Constance gazed fondly at Auma as she stroked the young one’s headstripes. “You will, Matthias, you will, someday. Now, we must find quarters for our new friends. Sister May and Brother Rufus will open the infirmary to all, for sore paws and old wounds must be treated. I’m afraid there’s no supper tonight. You’ll have to go straight to bed. Anyhow, you lot look as if a long rest will do you good.”

Basil’s ears flopped with disappointment. “What, no supper? I say, Constance old fruit, the only thing that’s kept B. Stag Hare on his paws for nearly a full season was the hope of a good old scoff at Redwall. I mean, what’s a chap to do if he’s had the old nosebag cut off, wot, wot? Bad form, old gel, t’ say nothin’ of rank bad manners to our guests. No supper. I don’t believe it!”

Mrs. Churchmouse slapped Basil smartly upon the paw. “Mr. Stag Hare, will you kindly give your overworked jaws a rest and be quiet! Thank you. Now let me explain. The reason that we are not cooking supper is that the season is to be named first thing tomorrow: the Autumn of the Warriors’ Return. All our Abbey dwellers have volunteered to work through the night, but new arrivals must sleep and keep out of the way. Starting at sunup, we are going to hold a feast in the orchard.”

Basil’s ears stood up like two signals. “A f-feast, y’ say, marm. Will it be a big un?”

Cornflower spread her paws. “The biggest one you’ve ever sat down to, Basil.”

“Golly! Bigger than the summer feast?”

“Far bigger!”

“An’ you’re all goin’ to cook right through the night?”

“Oh yes, that’s why we don’t want you under our paws. Otherwise we might not have it ready on time.”

“Got it, marm. All the weary warriors sleep while you sportin’ creatures cook up a whackin’ beanfeast. Right?”

“Right!”

Basil shot out of the Abbot’s study like a rocket, calling over his shoulder as he went, “Last one in bed and fast asleep’s a rotten egg. Yaaaah!”

Foremole entered the study, rubbing his nose. “Oi jus’ bin a-runned over boi a mad creatur’. Hurr.”

Orlando laughed so hard he hurt his jaw.

54

The feast of the Autumn of the Warriors’ Return began just after dawn. Mist rose in the orchard as the sun began to mount in the sky, and rosy apples dripped dew onto the heads of the creatures who sat beneath the trees. There were far too many for tables, so the entire party sat on the grass.

Chestnuts were baked and roasted on the fire pit dug by the moles; cheeses were rolled from the larders; fresh fruit lay in heaps between honeycombs and small hillocks of new baked bread.