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18

The Summer of the Orange Buttercup had drawn to a close and with the christening of the new season preparations were underway for Abbot Sedges' jubilee feast. It was nearing harvest time and everybeast was hard at work. Down in the cellars Jube Stump and his ten sisters were hard at work fermenting the cider and wines for the feast. Jube was trying to make a inventory of what they already had but his sisters were sampling everything. They had already polished off three casks of elderberry wine and were moving on to the summer fruit cider. "Hoi, Olga, Freya, Sasha and Katy would you please stop your samplin'. There gonna be nothin' left at the rate you lot are knockin' it back." "Oh Jube do lighten yer mood," said Sasha. "'Cuse me ladies, but the Abbot's feast is just two days away an' I'm worried that we'll 'ave nothin' ter drink." "Well we ain't gonna 'elp in the kitchens. It's too hot ter slave away in front of an oven," said Olga. "Well we havn't 'ad a friar since ole Hugo got killed. So they're gonna need all the 'elp they can get." * Out in the orchard Abbot Sedge, Mattimeo, Sam Squirrel, Tim Churchmouse and Sandokhan were going over the guest list for the feast. Sedge adjusted the spectacles on his nose as he read the list. "Hmmm, this all seems to be in order. It'll be nice to see Log-a-log Flugg again. Does anybeast else have any other suggestions?" "Well I do know Cheek's going to beg me to invite George Stag Hare," said Mattimeo. "Any relation to Basil Stag Hare by any chance?" "'Fraid so Father Abbot. He's Basil's nephew," Mattimeo replied. "I didn't know Basil had a nephew. I didn't even know he had a brother!" "Last time I heard he got into the Long Patrol. Got promoted quite recently, he's a Lieutenant now." Abbot Sedge shook his head wearily, "I'll tell the kitchens to prepare for Lieutenant Stag Hares' arrival." "What about you Sandy?" Tim asked. "I would like to invite Francis Vole and his wife," the fox replied. "There you are!" The fox looked up to see Sister Stephanie standing over him, paws crossed. "You said you were going to help me with sorting out the storeroom today." The foxs' face was a picture of mock shock, "Goodness me you're right!" He then rose to his footpaws and bowed politely to the others, "Please excuse me." When they got down to the storeroom, Stephanie had paper and charcoal at the ready as she put Sandokhan to work. "Right, we'll start with the spices. Sandy, could you see to the nutmeg over there?" "Where?" "The sacks over there in the corner. Could you take them and pile them up in front of the door?" "Why?" The mouse-maid then seized the fox and kissed him deeply, "So we can't be disturbed..." "How about, we just sort out the storeroom for now." The fox comprimised. "We can do all that later on," "Oh..." Stephanie replied, her voice sounding crestfallen. Sandokhan then ruffled her ears before rubbing noses with her. "Tonight, my room." * The leaves on the trees were now starting to turn shades of orange, brown and gold but it was still warm enough to hold the feast outside in the grounds. Numerous woodlanders toiled away shifting tables, benches, stools and the Abbots' armchair. Mattimeo and the Skipper of the otters were fishing through the night to catch a centrepiece for the feast, just as his father did seasons ago. The kitchens were turning out food to feed hundreds of woodlanders for a very long winter. Salads, pies, trifles, quiches, tarts, flans and soups of all varieties. Foremole and his moles had just put the finishing touches to the fire pit in the center of the circle. Foremole wiped sweat off his velvety brow, surveying the work his crew had finished. "Roight lads, that'm be a foin foir pit fer t'morrows' feast," "Hurr, Oi just 'opes that zur Mattim'o don't catcher fish'n that won't taste noice," said one of his crew. At that moment they saw Auma help Mattimeo and the Skipper carry a greyling down to the kitchens. Foremole scratched his head puzzled, "Hmm, Oi thought all them greylin's been caught boi naow." One of his team slapped him heartily on the back, "Hurr Gaffer, looken loik we's gunna 'ave a treat at'n yon feast t'morrow. Bur aye!" Out in Mossflower Wood, the otter Cheek was lounging himself on an rocky outcrop off the main path leading to the abbey. He heard pawsteps coming towards him, he looked up and saw a gallous hare wearing a Long Patrol uniform walk past. The otter sprang to his footpaws and called after the hare. "You're late!" The hare turned round and addressed the mischievous otter, "Begin' your pardon, a Long Patrol offisah is neither late nor early for a Redwall banquet. He shows up as soon as he can smell the turnovers baking in the ovens, wot!" The pair then embraced, "If I didn't know better young otter-me-lad, I'd say you've grown." "Never mind me matey, look at you. Lieutenant now, eh?" "Oh that, got promoted after some cheeky weasel blighter got too big for his boots, don't cha know. Oh, one more thing. We hadn't any trouble from Scarface an' his lot in a while." "That was Sandy! If only you'd been there. It was so amazing," "Hold fast Cheek m'boy. Whom was so amazing as described?" asked George. "Nevermind, you'll meet him later on."