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Chapter Text

The travelers stepped into the Arfship's middle deck, a vast space still stained red with old paint and rust, full of benches hung with chains. Sunlight streamed in through hatches left open above, and the sound of the crashing waves below echoing up to their ears. Gonff trailed behind Trimp, Chugger, Dinny, Vurg, and Beau as they moved off the staircase and into the huge space, only at the last moment remembering to get out of the way and make room for Martin behind him. He gazed around at the faded monstrosity, full of awe.

Great Seasons, this thing sailed the seas once? What a story that would be to hear told!

He was shaken out of his reverie by the sound of a voice coming from somewhere ahead of him.

"Vurg? Is that you? I saw the tide going out; do you think you'd be able to take me back on the next—"

The voice paused as its owner ducked her head through a doorway and emerged onto the Arfship's middle deck. Gonff, turning to find out who it was, saw that she was a mousemaid who appeared to be about Martin's age; a few seasons older than Gonff himself. She was rather pretty, of medium height with hazel eyes and light fur, and clad in a worn tunic and boots, with a well-mended rucksack slung over her shoulders. She wore a sling around her waist like a belt.

The Mousethief was just about to step forward to shake paws and introduce himself—fellow travelers ought to stick together and all—when he caught sight of his best friend's face and stopped. Martin was frozen in place, one footpaw resting on the top step of the staircase onto the deck. His paw trembled where it rested on the banister. His mouth was hanging open a little way as if in disbelief, and his expression was filled with surprise, more than a little wariness, and the deepest and most desperate love Gonff had ever seen on another creature's face.

Ah-ha! Finally! The Mousethief suppressed a grin. The answer to the Redwall gossips’ eternal arguments: our Warrior does have some sort of love life! Or did once, anyway; it doesn’t look like it’s the first time these two have met. I wonder who she is?

The mousemaid had stopped in her tracks as well. Gonff noticed that her eyes were fixed on Martin's with the same expression on her face: shock, trepidation, and utter longing. He squashed his curiosity and made a rapid decision.

"Everybeast out," he muttered, flapping his paws at his fellow travelers and the old hare and mouse warriors who were their guides. "Vurg, Beau, mateys, take us somewhere else—leave 'em alone!" Trimp and Dinny each met his eyes in turn and nodded, and although Dinny seemed to take Gonff’s decision in stride, he could see puzzlement on the younger hogmaid’s face. She scooped Chugger up in her arms and hurried up the stairs past Martin to where the cabin door hung ajar. As they all filed out, Gonff took one last look over his shoulder and saw Martin swaying on the spot as he gripped the balustrade even more tightly. Then Vurg swung the door shut behind him with a click and the image was gone.

***

Martin's mind was whirling. No. It's not possible. I saw her die. I couldn't stop her from dying, no matter how hard I tried. It's not her, it can't be. Her daughter? Some other part of his mind seized on that and arose roaring in jealous rage before the arithmetic clicked into place and it backed down. No, this mousemaid is about my age; too old for that. So not Brome's daughter, either; he's younger than either of us. Did she have a sister? No, of course not. A cousin? Possible, but cousins don't usually look quite that much alike. Great Seasons, I'd forgotten how beautiful she is, how absolutely perfect—no, Martin, don't let yourself think that. It's not her. It can't be her.

But then she spoke, and the voice that had haunted his dreams for the last twenty seasons ripped through his doubts. "You're Martin the Warrior."

Dimly, through his confusion, he saw that she had taken hold of her doorframe, and was clutching it just as tightly as he was clutching his banister. He nodded, and when he spoke he found that he was whispering. "Aye. And you're—" he hesitated, and although his mouth formed the words, it seemed that his vocal cords were still reluctant to let go of that sacred, secret name that they had kept locked away for all this time.

The mousemaid whispered it for him, her voice cracking. "Laterose of Noonvale. You're— you're—" her eyes were far away, as if she was lost in memories—"the creature I came south to look for. I—I remember now."

"Remember?" The word sent a lightning bolt through him. Had she forgotten him, after he had half-worshipped her memory for all these seasons?
"Aye. I lost my memory after the battle. Pieces of it are still coming back. I knew your name, and I knew—" she paused and swallowed—"knew I had to find you. And I knew what Grumm and Roanoke and Pallum told me about you, and as I've traveled, I've remembered more and more for myself." She offered him the tiniest hint of a smile.

But Martin shook his head. "’Tisn’t possible. I saw you—I saw Rose—die, twenty seasons ago. I saw your—her—head hit that wall, and sh-she—" he paused, trying to govern the tremor in his voice—"didn't get up. Nobeast could get up after that."

"I did. I was terribly injured, my head was all but split open, but the healers worked night and day to save me. Two seasons, I was unconscious, and another sixteen without my memory."

"And you suddenly show up at the home of my father's best friends at the same moment that I arrive? No. That's not how life works. My Rose died." He caught himself too late and shook his head.

She had taken a few steps closer to him so that she was now halfway across the cabin, and a note of steel entered her voice. "And why shouldn't it be how life works? I came to find you as soon as I could, as soon as I'd re-learned my name and how to read and write and—and walk, and dress myself, and—"

"Oh, is that so? Very convenient, to suddenly remember me after all that time."

"Convenient? My parents didn't approve of you. They didn’t tell me about you, and the others didn't want to disobey them. But I knew there was something wrong. I never truly had peace. Sixteen seasons of that, before Roanoke poured memory potion down my throat against my parents' wishes and I started to remember everything!"

Martin was speechless for a moment. All the emotions whirling through him seemed to compress into anger. "How dare you call that suffering? I went mad after that battle when I found out I’d lost you, Rose!” For the briefest moment, the dark despair of those weeks reared out of memory to wash over him anew, but with an effort he shoved it aside. “Truly mad. Am I supposed to just believe you? And pity you? Oh, I like that!" He found that he had left the stairway and strode toward the center of the room. His voice was rising, and he was shaking.

Her voice rose to match it. "Well, how do you think I felt when I drank the memory potion? I found out that you'd run away from me and from Noonvale, not even talked to my family, just gone, and I wept for weeks because I couldn't recall your face! If I broke your heart, well, you broke mine, too!"

"Why should I have come back to Noonvale? Why would I go within a hundred leagues of that place, after what happened?" Tears were rising in his eyes and he was struggling to shout around a lump that threatened to block his throat.

"That's just it!" She was almost crying now, her voice catching on small sobs. "You ran away from me when I needed you!"

Martin could barely keep his own tears under control anymore, either. "Well, you died and left me alone in the world when I needed you!"

And then they were collapsing into each other's arms, sinking to the red ship's worn wooden deck, choking out whispered apologies through their sobs.

After a few minutes or an eternity, Rose pulled away from him. He tried to focus on her, but his eyes felt glazed and he was dizzy from the blood pounding through his head. She, however, fixed her gaze on him and spoke.

"Actually, I do have a memory that’ll prove it's really me. Do you recall the morning before the battle?"

The Warrior smiled. Great seasons, but she was beautiful, and he was so warm with her paws around his shoulders. "When you woke before any of the others and we took a walk down to the tide line alone? Aye, I do."

"It was the first thing I remembered about you, after I took the memory potion. Holding your paw, looking up at the moon setting behind you in the west toward Noonvale, talking of the life we hoped to build together after the battle, and then—"

He cupped her cheek in one paw. Her eyes swam hazel in front of him through his tears, and her lips looked so soft and inviting. "—And then we had our first—"

“—kiss.” She pressed her mouth to his, slow and sweet and gentle just like that morning long ago. This time, though, they did not pull away blushing and stammering, but kissed again, and the kiss went on and on and on until—

The door creaked open and a voice that was louder than its proximity to the floor would suggest bellowed, "You done fighting YET? Chugger wanna story!"

***

They sat side by side in the cramped kitchen, mugs of tea and plates of food in front of them, while Denno held the big book containing the story of Luke's journey. A little explanation would be required first, Martin judged, before the others could focus on the purpose of their trip north instead of wondering about the identity of this mysterious mousemaid he had been caught kissing. Already the realization that he hadn't seen his father's face among the old warriors around him had begun nagging at him, and he knew what that probably meant but he pushed it away into the warmth of Rose's paw in his and her body pressed up against him where they sat crowded around the small table.

"Rose and I met several seasons ago, after I—" he glanced at the elderly mice and the hare—"er, left these caves. She rescued me, in fact. More than once. I was being held captive by a vicious stoat warlord and she was there for her brother; he and I were in the same cell. After we escaped, we traveled along with some other friends to return to her homeland, raise an army, and defeat the stoat. She and I, er, became very close friends during that time." A bit of crimson colored Martin's cheeks as he met Rose's eye. She smiled at him, sending a wave of giddiness washing through him, and took up the tale.

"Unfortunately for us, however, I was wounded almost unto death in the battle against that warlord—which Martin won almost single-pawed—"

"Not nearly single-pawed, that’s never how it works; I had a great deal of help from the massive army she’d helped me raise—"

"Well, in any case he killed that no-good stoat and secured our victory. But I was so badly hurt that I lay unconscious for two seasons. Martin was recovering from his wounds at a friend's house outside of our tribe's village, partly because my parents disapproved of him. When I awoke, my memory of him was completely gone. It stayed gone for sixteen seasons. Then, one morning last winter, two of my friends cornered me with a flask and a goblet and fed me a memory potion."

Martin squeezed her paw as she continued. "Taking the potion didn't restore every single memory. But I remembered the general outline of our journey and of the battle, and I remembered Martin. I confronted my parents and they admitted that they'd kept his identity from me. They thought that because he hadn't come back to Noonvale to pay his last respects, he must not have cared about me.

"I understood their concerns, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. I spent the next season wavering between deep depression and ferocious anger. I stayed in my room most of the time, unless I was out walking in the woods at all hours of the night. I ate and drank only just enough to avoid falling ill. Finally, somebeast dragged me to a Noonvale feast, where a traveler regaled us all with tales of the great redstone Abbey being built far to the south. And when he told us about the warrior mouse who wielded a famous sword and who had defeated a wildcat queen, I wondered if it could be Martin.

"So after the feast I asked the traveler for more information. It became clear almost immediately that this warrior mouse was, in fact, Martin, and I knew I had to come south. The only problem was that the traveler had the stories secondpaw, so he didn't personally know how to get to Redwall. Then, early last season, my father retired from chieftanship in favor of my brother. Luckily Brome manifests our family stubbornness more in the way I do than the way our parents do, so he granted me permission to go as soon as the weather would let me. The only idea I had was to start at the place where Martin had been born so I could look for clues. When I arrived here, I met Vurg keeping watch in the caves. He had no idea where Martin was, but at least he knew who he was. Vurg invited me to stay with them for a few days to rest and replenish my food supplies for my journey south. I was just about to leave when you arrived." She bumped Martin's shoulder with her own, and he flashed her a rather foolish grin and took up the story again.

"Meanwhile, I had woken up from my injuries after the battle in the northlands, and—" He paused. A cloud passed over his face. "No, I don't think I'll talk about that time. I don't think I'll ever think about it again." He shook his head. "I set off south, determined not to discuss my past with anybeast I met. And that led me to Mossflower. Most of you know what happened then, and we'll fill the rest of you in later." He leaned back in his chair, surveying the awestruck smiles on the faces of all the other creatures who were sitting at the table. All except one, who was resting his head on his paws.

"Awrite, good. Can Chugger have his story now?"

Everybeast laughed. Martin and Rose exchanged grins and nodded, and Denno opened his book.

Chapter Text

The Honeysuckle sat in the middle of the grasslands, sails furled, rock wedges beneath its wheels keeping it still. Its passengers were huddled in blankets on the ground nearby, sleeping by the warmth of the banked fire at the edge of a small wood. Guards sat around the edges of the camp. Rose sat up from her restless half-sleep and saw Martin's familiar silhouette next to the fire. She stood, pulled a blanket around her shoulders, and padded over to join him.

The mousemaid laid one paw on his shoulder. "Can't you sleep?"

He turned to look at her in the light of the embers and the waning moon, and her heart started pounding. She hadn't been able to remember exactly what he looked like even after taking the memory potion, and it had been an extremely pleasant surprise to rediscover that with his strong features, easy smile, and clear gray eyes, he was one of the most handsome mice she had ever met. Now, after nearly a week and a half in his constant company, her memory had returned enough that she could picture him as he had been nearly twenty-one seasons ago. He hadn't lost any of his good looks; in fact, in her opinion he had grown more attractive with maturity.

Martin beckoned her to sit next to him, and when she did, he wrapped one paw around her waist. She leaned against his shoulder. It was very comfortable. "No. It's all too much still. It's...I don't know." He trailed off. "You can't sleep either?"

"Not really. Like you said, it's all too much."

They were silent for a moment. Then Martin spoke. "Are you nervous about coming to Redwall?"

Rose considered this. After a moment, she said, "Only a little. The Redwallers you have with you seem very nice, and if they're representative—no, I'm not too worried."

"Homesick, though?"

"Sometimes, yes. For my parents. For my friends. And especially for my brother and his wife, and my baby niece."

Martin turned to face her, and she saw surprise and happiness on his face. "Brome has a daughter? That's wonderful! Do I know his wife? How are they?"

Rose smiled. "I don't think you know her, no. Her name is Amber. She's from one of the other tribes near Noonvale. Traveled over with a trade delegation as the bookkeeper’s apprentice. She and Brome met over dinner, danced every dance together that evening, and then spent the next day and a half almost exclusively in one another's company. Father was thrilled—he’d never gotten Brome to stay awake through a whole trade meeting before! She transferred her apprenticeship to our bookkeeper the following week, and she and Brome were married by the end of the season. She's a wonderful creature; we all love her. And she actually manages to keep my brother from doing anything too foolhardy, which is better than anybeast else in Noonvale can say." She paused, and her smile widened. "Little Daisy is a delight. She started walking on her own just before I left, following me around everywhere. Calls me Auntie Wose. I adored being an aunt. I'll miss her."

The Warrior sighed, and the smile slid from his face. He took her paw and traced patterns on the back of it with his own. "You know, Rose, as much as I—I'm happier than I can express to have you back with me, I'd...understand if you were too—" he swallowed—"too homesick to stay."

She drew away from him. "Whatever made you say that? I risked my life to find you; of course I want to stay!"

"I don't know. I just...thought you should know. Just in case." He averted his eyes, face creased with unhappiness.

"What's bothering you, dearheart? Tell me."

He was silent, staring into the embers of the fire.

Suspicion crept up on her, and she shivered in the early autumn breeze. After a moment, she whispered, "Martin. Are you a father?"

The Warrior buried his face in his paws and shook his head. She barely heard his muffled whisper: "No. I'm not." His entire body stiffened, and Rose wondered if he was trying not to cry. Then he stood, still avoiding her eyes, and mumbled, "I have to go. Er. privy. Then guard duty. Good night, Rose."

The mousemaid watched him stumble off into the darkness, swallowing a lump in her throat. After a respectable interval, in case he was telling the truth, she got up to follow him. But when she made the rounds of the guard posts, he was nowhere to be found.

***

“Martin! Hey, matey, wake up!”

Martin swam back to consciousness to find himself, stiff and frost-covered, huddled on a pile of rope on the Honeysuckle's main deck. Gonff was nudging him with one boot, paws full of firewood. As he rubbed sleep from his eyes, the memory of the previous night’s conversation came crashing back. Great Seasons, what have I done? I’ve lost her already, haven’t I? He groaned.

“What are you doing over here instead of in your bedroll? I don’t recall you having that much to drink last night!” The mousethief set down his burden, and pulled his friend up by one paw, chuckling.

“No, just my usual, one tankard of wine.” Martin shook his head, feeling heat rise to his face. “I—argued with Rose last night. Well, no, not argued. Didn’t—didn’t tell her something she wanted to know. None of her business. So I came here to be alone afterward, and I suppose I fell asleep.”

“Goodness!” Gonff balanced the last of the sticks on the top of the pile and jerked his chin toward the natural spring a few yards away, and the two mice began walking. “What did she want to know?”

The Warrior glared at him. “It’s even less of your business!”

His friend attempted to raise his paws in a gesture of apology, but stopped before he dropped his firewood. “Sorry, matey, didn’t mean to pry!”

They walked on in silence until they reached the spring.

When Martin stepped back into the camp, he saw Rose immediately straighten up from where she had been pouring herself a mug of mint tea by the fire. She hurried toward him. Almost immediately, the warrior was overwhelmed with embarrassment. He blushed and murmured a brief apology, then took her paw and squeezed it. She squeezed back, and they walked paw in paw over to the campfire to get themselves breakfast.

Chapter Text

Ferdy Stickle hurried around the wallcorner, eyes casting left and right for his twin. He saw a mousemaid hurrying the opposite direction while carrying a swinging bucket, and stopped to give her a polite bow.

"Good mornin’, Lily, where are you off to?"

"Good morning, Ferdy. It's my turn to haul water for the breakfast dishes today, so I'm headed to the pond." She made a face at the hedgehog, who chuckled. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm looking for my brother. Have you seen him? Martin, Gonff, Dinny, and Trimp just got home with a crowd of guests—the entire Guosim, those otters from up the stream, and a few others—and I thought he'd want to pay his respects."

"Martin's home? And nobeast told me? I must go and change into my nice new frock! No, there isn't time. Oh, bother!" Lily tossed the bucket on the ground and started to hurry off toward the main Abbey building, then switched directions toward the front gate.

The hedgehog shook his head as he grabbed her paw to steady her. "I keep telling ye, Lily. You've got no hope—'tis plain he prefers malebeasts. We don't know a thing about his past; often as not that means a creature is ashamed of something. And there are plenty out there who think it's wrong to love your own gender, though why anybeast wastes their time tryin’ to force other creatures to change what can’t be changed, or objectin’ to honest love—well. 'Tisn't for me to say. Anyway, I'd wager you anything that he's been taught to be ashamed of what he is."

Lily shook her head. "And as I keep telling you, Ferdy, I refuse to believe it! He just hasn't found the right mousemaid yet. And have you ever seen him so much as glance at another malebeast? No, because it hasn't happened. He'll notice me someday. Just as soon as I've found the right way to tempt him!"

"Not if ye keep making a fool out of yourself around him, he won't." Coggs had appeared from across the lawn to join them. "Mornin', brother. I was just talkin' to Skip 'bout the new dormitory. He reckons it won't rain until after we've got it sealed up, long as we keep to the schedule. Anyway, Lily, even if he did have an interest in maids, which I don’t believe he does, he wouldn't want the ones that simper all over him. No, if our Martin ever settles down with another creature it'll be with some fellow warrior mouse from the northlands. Somebeast like him. Common interests and background, you know. Whoa, there Catkin! Take it easy; you'll hurt yourself"

Catkin had come pelting around the wallcorner toward them, tripped on a loose stone, and went flying into Coggs's arms. She extricated herself carefully from his spikes, rubbing at her stubbed footpaw and pricked arms. "Ouch! Sorry, Coggs. Come quickly, all three of you! The travelers are back, and you'll never guess—Martin's standing there bold as brass with his arm around a mousemaid!" Her eyes shone with the excitement of gossip.

"A WHAT?" Lily took off running alongside the ottermaid, her face rapidly leaving disbelief behind and twisting into fury.

The two brothers followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Well, I never! I was so sure we'd finally met another like our brother Spike and that hogmaid couple, Nell and Primrose."

"Aye! 'Twould be nice for Spike to have a friend to talk to. Nell and Primrose are wonderful creatures, but it must be different for malebeasts than for maids, just like everything else in romance."

"You're right about that, Coggs! Otherwise one of us would have managed to find a wife by now, eh?" He laughed. "Ah, well. Shall we hurry? This ought to be quite a show!"

"That it will. Let's go."

***

As they stepped back from the thinning crowd around the Honeysuckle, Gonff let go of his wife's paw just long enough to lift their son down from his shoulders. The little mouse shot him a grin, stooped to collect a stick from the ground to be his sword, and then dashed off to find his new friend Chugger. His father watched him go, smiling, as he took Columbine's paw again.

"I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am to see the two of you again, m'dear."

Columbine returned his smile. "I missed you every day. I'm so glad you've come home safe." She planted a kiss on his cheek and burrowed her face in his shoulder for a moment, then rounded on him. "Gonff, I want all the details about that mousemaid Martin brought back. Who is she?"

"Rose? Oh, you'll like her. They were a couple before he came to Mossflower. Apparently there was some other war up north and it looked as if she'd died in it, so he went mad with grief and escaped south, ending up here. As it turned out, instead of dying she'd lost all her memories in the battle. But some friends gave her some memory potion, and she came south to find him. We ran into her on the way up. She was trying to get here to Redwall, to look for him."

"Is that so? Well, then!" Columbine's eyes were shining. "That's quite a story! I knew he couldn't possibly prefer malebeasts to maids—Redwall is far too small for him to hide something that basic about himself for this long. And he’s never seemed the type to never experience attraction; we have plenty of those among our former Loamhedge mice, and having grown up around them I've always doubted he was one of them. He's loyal to a fault, so it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he was simply waiting for somebeast from his past." She turned around and shaded her eyes against the sun to study Rose. "Very pretty. His age, too; that's good. I didn't want him getting together with somebeast fifteen seasons younger than him. Is she intelligent enough for him?"

"Aye. Apparently she's saved his life several times. She knows how to use that sling she wears, but Martin called her 'a warrior of the voice, not of the sword.' And they've spent almost the entire journey back talking together."

"Good. They seem completely taken with each other. Oh, look at Lily's face! She's positively seething! Well, it serves her right—she should have learned how to take a hint by now. Excuse me; I want to introduce myself to Rose so she doesn’t think Lily is representative." She smiled at her husband, squeezed his paw, and hurried off.

***

"Let me help you with that sack of—whoops!"

Goody Stickle tripped at the unexpected voice behind her, and the package of flour tumbled out of her paws, landed on the flagstones of Cavern Hole, and exploded, covering the hogwife and the mousemaid with a fine white powder. Rose tried in vain to brush it off of their clothes as she apologized, her words tripping over Goody's protestations.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you—here, I can wipe that off—"

"My goodness, you gave me a fright, missie! No, no, I'm fine, let me brush that off you, no need to be so worried--"

Eventually, laughing, they got most of the flour cleaned up and the salvageable portion scraped to the center of what was left of the burlap bag. Goody sat back on her heels, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun that streamed through the windows and studying Rose.

"Well, now, who would you be? Guests are always welcome at Redwall, but we do like to know their names. Are you here with them otters and shrews?"

The mousemaid shook the proffered paw. "I'm Laterose of Noonvale, daughter of former chieftain Urran Voh and sister of the current chieftain Brome. Please call me Rose. I was on my way south to find Martin, and happened to meet him and his party on their way north." She smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Rose. M'name's Goody Stickle, and my family's lived here in Mossflower since time out of mind. My two youngest are the cellar hogs here at Redwall, and I mostly help out with the Dibbuns, along with Bella and Martin. You say you were on your way here to look for him?"

"Yes, I was. I've—well—" Rose found her face coloring, and she twiddled her paws. How to explain this? "I've been friends with him for rather a long time, you see."

The hogwife didn't miss the blush. "You have, eh? And you just happened to feel like a jaunt alone through dangerous country to visit an old friend?"

Rose pursed her lips and raised her eyes. "Aye. I did. Some friendships shouldn't be allowed to fall by the wayside."

"Aye, you're right about that, and I meant no offense. I've just never seen Martin show interest in a maid before—or a malebeast, for that matter, if ye give any heed to my sons' idle gossip. No matter how many fall for him, they always have their hopes dashed. The northlands are awfully far away to come just for that." Goody shook her head.

The mousemaid laughed. "Was I being that obvious? Never mind. Don't worry, Goody; I’m confident my feelings are returned. Here, I can lift this side of the burlap if you—"

But Goody had let go of the sacking and sat back on her heels. She shook her head. "Well, I never! Martin, in love at last? I’m not sure I can even believe it." She peered at the mousemaid. "And he's proposed properly, and all that?"

"Well, no. But we've only been reunited for a month after a twenty-one-season separation, so—"

"Twenty-one sea—by the stars, that puts it at before he came to Mossflower! That’s a long time ago, missie. If I were you, I’d be careful. A creature can have an infatuation as a young’un, and it doesn’t necessarily mean it lasts." Goody shook her head again, then smiled. “Well, it’s no business o’ mine, and you’re warmly welcome at Redwall regardless. Aye, if you'll take that side of the bag I'll take this one, and as long as we keep a paw on the ends the flour shouldn't spill too much before we get it to the kitchens. I'm grateful for your help, missie."

The mousemaid bent to help, pleased that her bowed head hid the frown that crossed her face.

Chapter Text

“And over here we have the orchards. I’m afraid I’ve been informed that we missed the apple festival a few days before we got back, but as you can see in this corner we have pear trees and raspberry bushes, and they’ve been—what are you smiling at?”

Martin looked over at the mousemaid who was holding his paw as they walked along the path between the raspberry bushes and the Abbey wall, and found her grinning at him.

“You. I’m smiling at you.” Rose swung their paws between them. “It makes me so happy to see how happy you are here.”

“Finally at peace, just like you always wanted me to be, hmm?” The warrior jostled her shoulder with his, his tone light and playful.

Rose jostled him right back, laughing. “Partly. But I know you wouldn’t have made that change without a good reason of your own. When we were younger, I used to think I could change you into a mouse of peace. Now I understand that that was a foolish idea, and it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t freely chosen it.” She smiled again, even wider. “No, mainly I’m just happy because I want you to be happy. It makes me glad to see you like this.”

Martin stopped walking and turned to face her. The raspberry patch was deserted around them, sheltered from the warm breeze, the only sound the drone of one of the last bees of summer. “Rose, I—” He trailed off, then lifted his paw to cup her cheek. So much I want to say to her. So much I’ve wanted to say for so long, and I don’t have the first idea of how.

The mousemaid leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and sighing in contentment. Her own paws came up and around his shoulders as she stepped closer to him. He felt as if his brain had jammed, tangled up in the scent of the dust of the road on her, in the softness of her fur and the warm nearness of her body. He found himself staring at her lips, and licked his own, nervous, before looking away again. But her eyes had opened at that precise moment, and she pushed him up against the Abbey's sandstone wall and kissed him urgently, whiskers tangling with his, whole body pressing into him. After a moment's surprise, he recovered and returned the kiss with the same ardor, wrapping his paws around her back and winding his tail up her ankle.

When they came up for air, Rose spoke. "Oh, Great Seasons, Martin, I love you. I've been wanting to do that with you for an entire month now—mmmm, don't stop that."

It took him awhile to respond because he was too busy kissing his way up her neck. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his and winding her paw into the fur at the nape of his neck. “Wasn’t listening, more like it. I said, I love you and I’ve been wanting to do that with you for an entire month now.”

I love you. The words echoed in Martin’s mind, and he found himself staring at her, openmouthed.

I love you.

Oh, how long I’ve loved her. How much I’ve wanted to say that to her, dreamed she might someday say it back to me, never quite dared to hope. Is this even possible? Great Seasons, are all my least likely hopes coming true now? Is that what’s happening?

He leaned forward to kiss her again, just a small, gentle one before pulling away and opening his mouth to speak. But the words wouldn’t come. “Rose, I—”

“Yes, Martin?”

Say it. Just say it.

He worked his jaw, but to no avail. Finally he pulled her into an embrace, kissed her on the cheek, and then took her paw for their silent walk back up to the Abbey.

***

The feast that night to celebrate the travelers’ return was a great success. By the time the candles had begun to burn low, the inhabitants of Redwall and their friends had feasted for hours, and the centerpiece of the entertainment had been the travelers' tales. Rose wasn't sure whether they had elicited more tears from the tale of Luke's journey, or the story she and Martin had told about their own past. Now, though, the tables in the Great Hall were emptying as creatures got up to socialize with friends who had sat elsewhere that evening or to begin clearing dishes, and for the moment Rose found herself sitting alone.

She leaned back in her chair and looked around. Redwall was certainly an impressive structure, all leaping vaults in red sandstone and towering glass windows. True, the upper floors weren't quite complete yet, but from what Martin had said, they had made much better progress over the course of the summer than he had expected them to. The building's frame was finished and the roof was nearly complete, and by winter there would probably be no more outdoor construction required. He really loves this place. To think that my Martin would ever help build a community that existed only for peace! If only my parents could see the transformation, I think they would finally be able to forgive him.

"What do you think of it all?"

Rose started at the voice. She hadn't realized she had been half-dozing until Columbine sat down in the chair across from her and spoke. But when she shook the tiredness from herself, she returned the young mousewife's smile. In spite of having only known one another for a day, Columbine and Rose had very much warmed to one another, and they were, Rose suspected, already well on their way to becoming fast friends.

She said, "It's beautiful. I can't believe I spent sixteen seasons doing nothing while you creatures spent that time building something like this."

"I'm sure you weren't doing nothing. We're all hoping that soon we can stop doing exciting construction work and settle into a nice, domestic routine."

Rose laughed. "I can see that there's a certain attraction in that. But tell me, Columbine. I thought you, Gonff, and your son didn't always live here."

"We don't, always. We have our own place about three quarters of an hour's leisurely walk down the path from here, and every few months we retreat there for awhile. Sometimes we want a bit of privacy, time strictly for our own little family, you might say." She pulled a lump of warm wax off a nearby candle and studied it as she rolled it around in her paws. "Gonff and I were both orphans. We both feel that as wonderful as it is for the Abbey Dibbuns to be raised by all these caring adults—and your Martin is particularly enthusiastic about the littleuns, by the way—we also want to raise him as our son, part of a three-creature, close-knit family. Does that make sense?"

"Very much so. In Noonvale each family has its own little cottage. We all live and work and socialize together, but we can also retreat when we want to. Of course, plenty of creatures prefer constant community, and you do get little knots of cottages full of families who all do everything together."

"I take it you didn't grow up in one of those little knots of cottages?"

"I'm the chieftain's daughter. The house is hereditary, and when we don't have any guests it's a bit large for a family of four." She laughed again. "But my brother inherited the chieftainship and not I, so if I had stayed, someday I might have chosen to live in one of them. Eventually." She half-glanced at Martin, who had excused himself from her side a few minutes before and was busy conversing—loudly, by necessity—with the Abbess a little way down the table. When she returned her gaze to her part of the table, she saw that Columbine had noticed the look.

The young mousewife leaned across the table and spoke in a whisper. "Listen, Rose. You probably know this as well as any of us do, but he isn't very good about expressing his feelings verbally. Don't take it as a sign that he doesn't care about you. When he wanted to journey north this summer, did he approach the other elders with a proposal for modifying the construction schedule so he could take a well-earned few months to make peace with his past? No, he sat in Mossflower pining and staring out into the trees for two weeks while the rest of our hearts broke for him. He simply…isn’t good at that sort of thing."

Rose nodded, still staring over at him. “I do know that, Columbine. That’s how he was when I knew him before, and I suspected when I came south to find him that he might still be like that.” She paused. “I only—”

Columbine nodded, a look of compassion softening her features. “It must make it harder, at the beginning, not to hear him say it.” She paused. “He hasn’t, has he?”

“No. He hasn’t.” She glanced up, a blush stealing across her cheeks. “But he’s kissed me three times now, including the one back up north when we first got together, and if I’m honest I’d describe the more recent two of them as extremely thorough snogs.” She reddened even further and giggled.

“Great seasons, has he now? Well, I am certainly glad to hear that.” She glanced at Martin, who was now laughing uproariously at a joke shared with the Abbess and Bella. “I can’t say it surprises me that that’s how he expresses himself. Still—well, you let me know if you need to talk to me about anything, Rose. You’re absolutely correct that creatures don’t change, and I’m glad you care for him just the way he is, but some of this lot—” she waved her paw at the room full of Redwallers—“get it into their heads that romance only looks one way and anything that looks different than that is just meaningless flirtation. My own courtship with Gonff was love at first sight for both of us followed by a wedding a season and a half later, so I dodged more or less all the gossip. But that’s not always how it works, and if you’re getting pressure from the bored and the nosy then that’s not fair to you.”

Rose smiled at her. “Thank you, Columbine. That means a lot. I think we’re going to be good friends, you and I.” She stifled a yawn. “Oh, my! I think I may take a walk for some fresh air, and then call it a night.”

The mousewife patted her friend’s paw as the latter stood and stretched. “Good night, Rose.”

“Good night, Columbine.”

***

“So, Martin. You and Rose. How about it, hmm?”

Skipper nudged the Warrior’s shoulder and smirked. It was the day after the feast, and the two of them, plus Folgrim and Gonff, were sitting in Cavern Hole, inventorying and re-folding the contents of several chests’ worth of winter blankets.

Martin shot him a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. “What about it, Skip?”

“It’s just nobeast was expecting it at all, were they?”

Gonff cut in. “To be fair, it wasn’t any more or less likely than any of the other rumors.”

This time it was Skipper’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Hush, Gonff. It’s possible he didn’t know there were rumors about his love life. Or shocking lack thereof. Ah, we’re ready for the next chest. Pass me the key ring, will ye matey?”

Martin passed it to him. “Well, if that’s the best you can come up with—why the Seasons wouldn’t I know there were rumors about my love life? In a place this size? And you do all know how many times I’ve had to decline Lily and her ilk, don’t you? That would have clued me in, even if I hadn’t directly heard the rest. Which of course I had.”

Folgrim chuckled. “All right, now I’ve got to know.”

Martin rolled his eyes, but Gonff beat him to speaking, slinging a paw around his shoulder. “There were four main schools of thought, Folgrim. One: what turned out to be the truth, that he had somebeast buried in his past. That’s the one I’ve always held to, by the bye. Two: that he was going to settle down with one of the younger female mice, having decided all the ones our age weren’t for him. That one was always rubbish, but the young’uns always liked it, for selfish reasons of course. Three: that he prefers malebeasts. You may have noticed we’re one of the more accepting communities for those sorts of folks, and we’re proud to be. There’s Spike Stickle, you haven’t met him yet but he’s Ferdy and Coggs’s brother, lives out in Mossflower; there’s Nell and Primrose, the young hogmaids who spend all their time mooning over one another and aren’t necessarily aware than any other creatures exist in the Abbey besides each other; there’s wosstheirnames the squirrel couple ‘bout our age who just moved here shortly before we left; and of course there’s Abbess Germaine herself, who joined the Loamhedge order as a young mouse when her—well, I suppose it wasn’t her wife who died in the Great Plague. What d’you call it when you’re widowed but you hadn’t gotten ‘round to getting married in the first place?”

“Great Seasons, Gonff, you say ‘her sweetheart died,’ exactly like you’d have said about Rose and me this time last fall if you’d known. Since you’ve clearly forgotten all your grammar lessons from Dibbunhood, I’ll draw your attention to the fact that ‘sweetheart’ is a gender-neutral word!”

Folgrim was laughing by now. “Temper, temper, matey! What was the fourth one?”

The Warrior rolled his eyes and shrugged out from under Gonff’s paw, shooting him a dirty look. “That in common with many of the other Loamhedge mice, I was the sort of creature who only experiences strong attachments as friendships rather than as love or—” his face turned bright red, and his voice sank to a mumble—“or physical attraction.”

The other three cracked up at this. Martin glared at them again.

“I’ll have all you nosy fellows know that that one wasn’t actually too far off the mark either. I’ve not the least idea why, but Rose is the only creature I’ve ever had so much as a glancing interest in. And ‘tisn’t because I’m a hopeless romantic who had sworn eternal devotion to her—”

“Well, that, too, matey, to hear the pair of you—”

“Shut up, Gonff. Aye, all right, that too, but I’ve actually never even been interested in anybeast else. I can look at a mousemaid and notice she’s pretty, but it doesn’t affect me. It’s only ever been Rose.”

“I see.” Folgrim exchanged glances with his uncle; then, neither of them unable to hide a smirk, the younger otter barreled on ahead. “So I suppose what you’re saying in practical terms is that you haven’t ever—”

“Hello, you four, what are you up to?” It was Bella the Badgermum. Martin sagged in relief, his face crimson, as the conversation halted.

“We are inventorying all the woolen blankets, marm.” Meadowcream wouldn’t melt in Gonff’s mouth. Martin reached over and swatted him.

“Oh?” Bella raised one eyebrow, then resumed her passage through Cavern Hole. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Carry on, then. Martin, the Abbess needs to see you about tomorrow’s construction schedule, but she says it can wait a few hours if you’re busy.”

The Warrior threw down his inventory and charcoal stick so fast that they might have been burning his paws. “No, not busy, I’ll be right there!” He scrambled to his footpaws and hurried out of the room, leaving the other three rolling on the floor laughing.

Chapter Text

“Sssshhh—we mustn’t wake the others!” Primrose the hedgehog doubled over giggling even as she spoke.

“Pshaw, you’re the one making most of the noise—ow, you tread on my paw!” Nell hopped up and down on one footpaw, leaning on her sweetheart’s shoulder.

“Hehehe! Well, ‘tis dark; that cloud just went across the moon; I couldn’t see your moldy old footpaw!”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Not a clue. I can sneak in if we’re quiet, though. Oh, I’m so glad we did this!”

The two hogmaids dashed giggling and stumbling across the Abbey lawn in the darkness, just back from a long walk—and a snog, of course, but they weren’t going to mention that to any elders they came across—in Mossflower. It was, probaby, nearly midnight. Nell had officially come of age a month ago and no longer had a curfew, but Primrose still had two weeks to go until the nameday that would usher her into official adulthood, and she was still expected to be in the dormitories by midnight.

“Me, too! Do you know, I love you rather a—ARRRGGGHHH!!!”

Nell had crashed into something large and soft that hadn’t been there before but had risen out of the shadows to block them. Both hogmaids fell to the ground and sat there shaking their heads to clear them. After a moment, Nell peered upward in confusion as a dark lantern was uncovered to reveal the face of the Abbey Badgermum.

“Well, well, well. You two once again, hmm? I know it’s not long until Primrose comes of age and loses her curfew, but in the meantime we do expect you both to heed the rules. What have you got to say for yourselves, ladies?”

Primrose stood and shuffled her paws, blinking against the bright light. “Beg pardon, Miz Bella. We thought it wasn’t midnight quite yet, isn’t that right, Nell? We’ve been so busy lately helping to prepare for winter, and it was such a warm night, and the full moon was so lovely; all we wanted was to go for a walk and have a chat—I suppose we lost track of time."

“Aye, Miz Bella, everything she said is exactly right. We’re sorry; we truly didn’t realize it was so late.”

Bella barked a laugh and lowered the light. “Perhaps we ought to put you both in some remedial astronomy lessons. It’s full moon tonight; shouldn’t be that hard to tell when it’s midnight. Be that as it may, you normally do your sneaking off during the daytime, but you have indeed been working hard lately, not to mention I overheard your comment about having no idea what time it was. So I’ll wager you’re telling the truth. I’ll escort you upstairs now, and we’ll speak to the Abbess about this in the morning.”

The hogmaids exchanged glances, and Nell spoke. “Beg pardon again, marm, but we were going to speak to her in the morning anyway.”

The badger cocked her head to one side. “Oh yes, Nell? And why is that?”

“Because we’d—” Nell shuffled her footpaws, and in the bright moonlight and lamplight it was easy to see that she was blushing. “We had a talk tonight, and we’ve agreed that—” She shuffled her footpaws again, a smile wreathing her lips.

“What she’s trying to say,” Primrose interrupted, “Is we’d like the banns read for us. For a spring wedding, you understand, so I can be very thoroughly of age. We can put off the announcement until after my nameday if the Abbess wants, not that my parents will have the least objection. But—” she broke off and spread her paws, grinning.

Bella’s grin soon matched theirs. “Well, I must say, it’s about time the two of you were betrothed. How long has this been going on between you? Ten seasons? Twelve? You were barely out of Dibbunhood when you started being sweet on each other, as I recall. Yes, springtime, I believe that’ll be quite satisfactory.” She shook her huge, striped head. “No wonder you wanted the moonlight to sneak out by! Nonetheless, may I have your word that it won’t happen again until after Primrose’s nameday?”

“Yes, marm!”

“Oh yes, for sure, Miz Bella!”

“All right then. I’ll walk you inside. Congratulations, you two.”

***

“I know ‘tisn’t any of my business, but if you ask me ‘tisn’t right for Martin to be acting that way.”

Rose had been walking along the lawn between the Abbey and a copse of trees surrounding one end of the pond, pushing a wheelbarrow full of leaves. She didn’t recognize the voices of the creatures who were hidden by the trees, but she could hear the splash of water and assumed they were doing some washing. She slowed when she heard Martin’s name, then stopped and rested the handle of the wheelbarrow against one footpaw.

“I do believe you’re right,” a second voice responded. “Rose came all this way; she’s so brave to face that dangerous journey by herself. And what does he do? Behave disgracefully! I walked in on them snogging—snogging!—in an empty room upstairs the other day, d’you remember, when it was raining and construction wasn’t going to get done? Anyway, there they were, oblivious to the world or anything but each other, and both of them grown adult mice who’ve known each other for nearly twenty-one seasons, to hear them tell it. And is there any sign of formal courtship? Any sign of them asking for the banns to be read for them? No indeed! Just…snogging in deserted corners.”

“You expect such things of young couples like Nell and Primrose; they’ve got to get it out of their system, and goodness knows I enjoyed behaving that way at that age myself. As did you, if I recall. But not from creatures their age. And I’d never have thought of such behavior from an honorable mouse like our Abbey warrior, but ‘tis plain as day. He’s just leading her on. Simple as that.”

“Well, we can’t forget he wasn’t raised properly to know how to treat a maid. And I suppose if she’s apparently prepared to make allowances for his behavior, the rest of us must as well. But I’ll tell ye, sister, if he were any sweetheart o’ mine, I wouldn’t stand for it. And I can’t imagine why Rose does, either.”

“No, nor can I.”

The two creatures fell silent for a moment. Then, “Did ye hear about Lady Amber? She an’ her squirrels are recruiting for a play to be put on at the midwinter feast! I thought young Mayberry ought to try out, and I said as much to her last night.”

Rose picked up her wheelbarrow again and went on, a frown wreathing her face.

***

“All right, you lot. Go find Miz Bella at the gatehouse, ‘tis time for lessons now.”

“But we wanna play, Martin! Just five more minutes?”

“Burr, aye, zurr. Please?”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

The Warrior laughed, patting small creatures on the head and picking stray pieces of leaf off from between shoulder blades where they couldn’t be reached. “No, get on with ye, all you scallywags. Listen, I bet none of you can beat Chugger in a race to the gatehouse.”

“Pshaw, Martin, of course they can’t beat me!”

“YES WE CAN, Chugger!”

“Yeah, we can beat you! Everyone, on your mark, get set…”

“Wait, I’m not ready, my sandal’s untied.”

“Awrite, once Gonflet’s ready. To the gatehouse. On your mark, get set, GO!!”

Twenty Dibbuns raced off in a helter-skelter rush, giggling and shrieking. Martin watched them go, laughing as well. He threw his pawful of leaves back on the messy remains of the pile where they’d been jumping, then bent to pick up a nearby rake to re-form the pile.

“Well, you look like you’ve had a fun afternoon. Jumping in the leaves with the Dibbuns?”

Martin turned around to find Rose behind him with a full wheelbarrow of leaves. “Oh, aye. I can make much better leaf-showers than they can; most of them are so light they barely bounce off the pile.” He grinned at her.

“Here, you have one on your elbow and one between your ears.”

She stepped close to pick them off, and he caught his breath at her nearness, the soft floral scent of her soap, her hazel eyes changing color in the autumn light. When he bent ever-so-slightly to kiss her—there was barely more than a centimeter’s difference in their heights—she responded with enthusiasm, paws winding around his neck.

They parted eventually, needing to catch their breath. Martin simply stood with his paws at her waist, losing himself in the delight of just looking at her, her face blushing crimson beneath her fur. His heart pounded. I can’t believe she’s mine. Every day I wonder if this is a dream.

But Rose’s expression had turned serious. “We probably shouldn’t do that where we can be seen.”

“What do you mean? We’re alone. We’re always alone.” He wrenched his mind back to the present, frowning.

“No, we’re not. On the way here I just overheard two creatures—I’m not sure who they were; I couldn’t see them—gossiping. Apparently one of them walked in on us in that empty room upstairs the other day, when it was raining.” Her face flushed even redder, and she grinned, but it soon faded to a slight frown. “They think you have…impure intentions, that you’re leading me on just for a bit of snogging.”

Martin stared. “Excuse me? How dare they say such a thing!” He stepped away, clenching his paws. “Rose, you’re absolutely certain you don’t know who they were?”

“Oh, don’t get all worked up. ’Twas only some old biddies gossiping. They’ve got to gossip about something. I’m not planning to let it bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me. They’ve no right to treat you that way. ‘Tisn’t right. I’m so sorry you had to overhear something like that, Rose. Please let me know if you figure out who it was, and I’ll talk to them.”

“Hmm.” The mousemaid sighed as she stepped close again, putting her paws back around him and burrowing her face in his shoulder. “You smell like leaves. ‘Tis nice. All right, I will. And meanwhile when you want to kiss me let’s find a bit more privacy, all right?”

Martin felt her lips curve into a smile against his shoulder. He put one paw around her and stroked her back, feeling his heart continuing to pound as his own smile appeared. “All right then. Not a problem at all, if ‘tis what you want.”

Chapter Text

It was properly autumn now, the mornings cool and misty or chilly and bright. More varieties of apples hung low on the boughs in the orchard, vegetables and grain filled the fields just outside the walls, and the hustle and bustle of preparing for winter kept everybeast careening around under everybeast else's footpaws. Rose smiled to herself as she reached up to clip the bundle of herbs she was holding onto the drying string that stretched above her head in the brand-new infirmary. Autumn was full of nearly the same routines as the ones she had grown up with in Noonvale: gathering, drying, preserving, baking, repairing, sewing, knitting, chopping, and brewing filled every Redwaller's days, and only the very last few outdoor building tasks interfered. It was comforting, no matter how much work it required, to know that this season was the same everywhere.

Still, she and Martin had managed to escape to Mossflower for the occasional golden afternoon alone together between their chores, and they had—she felt her cheeks redden at the very thought—thoroughly enjoyed themselves at those times, in part due to the long and rambling conversations. A rather foolish smile crossed her lips, and her paws went slack as she gazed out the window, remembering.

"Acorn for your thoughts, Rose?"

It was Nell. Rose looked up at smiled at her. "Hello, Nell. Have a seat. Help me with these herbs. I was just thinking about how nice this season is."

The hedgehog deposited her armful of fresh linens on one bare mattress and seated herself across the table from the mousemaid. She picked up a piece of string and a clump of plants. "Aye. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right for the satisfaction of hard work all day and then spending the evening peacefully by the fire thinking about life."

Rose smiled at her again. "You've certainly been doing some thinking about your life. I was so happy for you and Primrose when I heard. We all were. Will you pass me that roll of string, please?"

Nell beamed as she did so. "I've never been happier in my life. It even fits just fine with our plans to wait for the spring, because we do so enjoy parties, and we want to take plenty of care planning every detail with the Abbess." She grinned.

"Oh, you're coming here for the wedding? That's wonderful! I look forward to it!"

They worked in silence for a few more minutes before Nell spoke again. "And what about you and Martin?"

The mousemaid hung another bundle of herbs on the drying line, as far away from herself as possible, and made a face. "Phew, those things smell foul. What do you mean?”

“Well—has he—” she trailed off, waving a paw vaguely. “I’ll take the rest of the marigolds from that pile over there, if you’d like.”

Rose handed them over, choosing her words carefully and trying to keep her tone of voice much gentler than she felt like being. “Nell, you do know, don’t you, that until a few months ago Martin and I hadn’t seen one another in twenty seasons? You and Primrose have been around one another every day of your lives, more or less. It’s…different when there’s a long separation.”

The hogmaid considered this, nodding as she bundled up the marigolds. “Yes, I suppose I can see that. Twenty seasons? That was when we were still fighting the big cats in Kotir Fortress. I was alive, but I was a tiny baby, far too young to remember.”

“Strictly speaking, it was before you were fighting them. Martin was up north with me; he didn’t live here yet. I know Corim existed, of course but from what I understand from Bella, it couldn’t do much except help the refugees. Not that that wasn’t important work. But you take my point.”

“I do, yes. Great Seasons, I’m glad to have mostly grown up in peacetime! Now that you mention it, I don’t know if I’d have had that kind of patience, Rose.”

Rose laughed. “Oh, my dear. I grew up in peacetime, too. When Martin and I first met—goodness, I thought it would all go just the way it went for you and Primrose. Of course, before I met him, I thought it would be some local mouse from a neighboring tribe; none of the Noonvale malebeasts were my type and I’m afraid I don’t have your interest in our own gender.”

Nell grinned back at her. “I’d say you weren’t missing much, except you are; you’re actually missing quite a lot! But to each her own, right? And perhaps I’m missing quite a lot myself, having never in my life been sweet on a malebeast. But if you asked me why Primrose has always been the only right one for me, ever since Dibbunhood, I couldn’t give you a reason. She’s just…her. And I’m me. And I do believe we were made for each other.”

“Oh? Then in that sense, neither of us is missing anything at all; we’ve had the same experience. I’m sure there are important differences, especially since I’m sorry to report that in some cases the tribes around Noonvale aren’t as accepting as the creatures around here seem to be, and as we all ought to be. But for those of us who are so lucky as to experience love at first sight, my understanding is that particular sensation is just the same.” Rose grinned back at the hogmaid. “Lend me your paw for a moment so I can tie this knot.”

Nell placed her paw in the knot, eyes shining. “What happened?”

“Well, it was a bit ridiculous at first. Strictly speaking it was friendship at first sight for me rather than love, but Martin was another story entirely.” She laughed fondly at the memory “He was smitten the very moment he saw me, and all I could do was laugh at what a fool he made of himself, spitting out his tea, not even able to talk properly. He was handsome, of course, but I’d gotten so used to the Noonvale mice who were forever falling in love with me and refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer, that it never occurred to me to consider him as anything more than an ally in rescuing my brother. But then--”

“Then what?” The bundles of herbs were forgotten, and Nell was listening intently, paws folded on the table as she leaned forward.

“He proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was more than just a handsome face. Worked harder than I’d ever seen a creature work, for the sake of it rather than for glory. Well, I’m used to dedication and teamwork in Noonvale, but not in the matter of selfless protection of others. But most of all, Nell, he listened to me and respected me. A few times he tried to put himself between me and danger, but when I could see there was a way to trick our way out without coming to harm, he would put aside his sword and listen to my ideas—and, most of the time, take them. He treated me as an equal in war-planning, even though I knew little about it in the formal sense—he either listened to my outsider’s perspective, or he taught me what he knew without lording it over me. I was used to that kind of respect from my own family and my close friends, but definitely not from suitors; most often they tried to sweep me off my footpaws, woo me with flowers or sweets and…I don’t know, be impressive and overbearing show-offs to try to win me. Martin did none of that. I could tell he was interested in me, but he focused on being my friend and ally. And of course, we could talk for hours. I’m sure our companions got quite tired of us chattering away all the time. Thank goodness my brother was elsewhere by then—I’d have never heard the end of it in teasing!” She laughed.

“How did you know you were in love with him?”

Rose snipped the last piece of twine off the roll and tied the herb bundle above her head. “Do you know, Nell, I’ve often thought about that, and the answer is that I’m not sure. I know I started fussing over making sure he was comfortable after about two days, we were getting knowing looks from our friends by the end of day three, and we were holding paws most of the time by midway through day four—which was a lovely day to walk together having an incredibly long and flirtatious conversation, by the way, and that was just what we did. I was thinking of it in terms of love by the end of the week when we got back to Noonvale, but—no, I don’t think there was one single moment that I suddenly knew for sure. I simply slid into it like it had always been there, waiting for us.”

Nell’s grin had only gotten wider, and she clapped her paws together. “Oh, Rose, that’s a lovely story!”

The mousemaid smiled. “Yes, it is, rather, isn’t it? But you see what I mean, don’t you, that since we were never formally courting in the first place before being separated for nearly your entire lifetime, things will naturally look different for us?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I do.”

“Good.” Rose stood up and took up a small brush to start sweeping dead leaves off the table, and her tone became tart. “Then perhaps you could mention it to some of the older folks around here, should they ever bring it up. To be perfectly honest, I’m getting quite tired of their gossip.”

Nell patted her paw and then stood as well, coming around to the edge of the table with a wastebasket. “Don’t worry, Rose. I’ll speak up if I hear anything.”

Chapter Text

Spike Stickle arrived at the Abbey on Samhain morning. Primrose was crossing the lawn from the pond to the front door with a full bucket of water for the kitchens, hurrying as much as she dared and shivering in the morning chill, when she looked up and saw him striding through the archway behind the gate as Bella closed and locked the gate after him. She carefully set her bucket down where it was unlikely to get tripped over, then hurried to greet him.

“Uncle Spike! Uncle Spike!”

The older hedgehog cackled and opened his paws for an embrace. “Primrose! How be ye, my dear? Happy coming of age to ye and all!”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, uncle. It was just a week ago; a lovely party. And you’ve heard about me and Nell?”

Spike’s smile grew even wider, and he pulled away from the hug to put his paws on Primrose’s shoulders. “Aye, that I have, and about time, I have to say. You two have been sweet on one another since Dibbunhood, my dear!”

Bella trotted up to join them, dusting the frost off her paws. “All ready, you two? Come on, let’s go inside. Don’t forget your pail of water, Primrose.”

Inside the Abbey, Spike was greeted with shouts and squeals of glee, and nearly every hedgehog in the place hurried to greet him.

“Uncle Spike! Uncle Spike!”

“Brother! Finally, ye come an’ visit!”

“Uncle Spike! Come sit here with us!”

“There ye are, my son. I’m so glad you could make time for us this Samhain.”

“Unca Spike! Unca Spike!”

Rose looked up from the empty breakfast plates she was helping Columbine load onto a trolley and surveyed the scene with a fond smile. “So this is the mysterious Spike, hmm? I’m glad for the chance to meet him. But Columbine, you simply can’t tell me that all those creatures are his nieces and nephews!"

“Hmm? Oh, goodness, no. The only one who’re his niece and nephew by blood are the tiny Dibbuns he’s tossing up in the air at the moment. They’re his sister Posy’s twins; I think you’ve met her?”

“Aye, just briefly. So I suppose he’s a family friend to all the rest, and they call him that in the same way that Gonflet occasionally calls Martin ‘Uncle Martin’?”

“Yes, precisely. Most of the hedgehogs call him that, actually. Primrose started it; she had some trouble at first accepting herself when she fell in love with a fellow maid, and Spike was the one who talked her through it. But it gained popularity—when you meet him you’ll see, he really does treat them all like family—and now they all call him that.”

Rose smiled again. “Oh, that’s a lovely story. As soon as he stops being mobbed by all the hedgehogs, I look forward to meeting him.”

***

But Spike was not the only visitor to the Abbey that day. A few hours before the Samhain feast was set to begin, Martin heard Gonff run toward the gates with a glad cry. “Sure, and if it inn’t me ould pal Murfo the Dunehog!”

“Gonff, Prince of Mousethieves! Oh, I am glad to see ye, my friend! Come an’ meet my companions!”

Murfo, son of Chief Dunespike, had brought ten Dunehogs with him. Their primary purpose, Martin gathered, was to negotiate trade: plates, bowls, and cups made of seashells in exchange for produce, since they’d missed the entire farming season in their new home. The Warrior shook paws with each Dunehog in turn, then left Gonff to show them to their quarters while he went to find the Abbess.

He found her in Cavern Hole, sitting by the fire and holding her ear trumpet in one ear. Mayberry was reading to her while her sister Catkin sat mending an apron nearby. The Abbess looked up as Martin approached.

“Abbess, the Dunehogs have arrived with a trade delegation.”

“The Dunehogs! Yes, I recall them from your trip north this summer. They’ve been shown a place to sleep and freshen up for the feast? Good. They’ll enjoy the feast with us tonight, and tomorrow morning we shall meet with them in council to trade.”

“That sounds like an ideal plan, ma’am.” Martin smiled at her, and made to turn away.

“Oh, and Martin? Come here.” She patted the arm of her rocking chair. “Mayberry, would you give us a moment please?”

Martin knelt down next to Germaine’s chair as she lowered her voice.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Martin: would you like your father to be among the honorees tonight? I know he died quite some time ago, but it seems unlikely that you’ve ever had the chance to name him among the Samhain dead.”

The Warrior swallowed heavily, his paws going cold. “Aye, ma’am, I’d appreciate that very much. And his friend Ranguvar as well, if it’s not too much trouble.” He paused. “Would it be better if his old friends spoke on his behalf instead of me?”

Germaine smiled. “No, Martin. I spoke to them before asking you. They held their own Samhain fire the autumn after he died, and they honored him then. They asked me to pass along the message that they encourage you to do this.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Aye, all right then. You’re right, Abbess, I’ve never honored him at Samhain. It seemed wrong when I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he still lived. But if I could toast them both tonight—”

She smiled. “Of course you may, Martin. I’ll talk to you later at the feast.”

Chapter Text

Dusk fell over Redwall, and as soon as the feast was set out and ready in the Great Hall, creatures drifted outside. Dinny Foremole had supervised the building of a large bonfire on the lawn, and everybeast had gathered on sawn log seats around it in a semicircle. There was only a low murmur of voices to be heard: as merry as the feast would be later, the first half of Samhain was a solemn occasion.

Martin shivered in the evening chill, but he couldn’t pull his cloak around him because his paws were full. The line for goblets of mulled wine had been long, and after helping with some last-minute feast preparation in Great Hall, he’d been one of the last few to get in it. He looked around for Rose in the crowd, walking slowly to avoid spilling either of their drinks. At last he saw her wave and made his way over to her.

“There you are, sweetheart. Let me take those so you can sit down. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a larger seat for us both. Was the line long?”

The Warrior smiled at her, handing over the goblets. “Aye, it was, and I got in it late. You don’t mind if I—” he gestured at the grass by her footpaws, and when she nodded, he sat in front of her and leaned back on her shins, finally able to pull his cloak around him. Rose handed him a goblet and took a sip from her own, but before she could speak, Bella stood and raised a paw for silence.

The Badgermum spoke, her voice carrying easily over the assembled. “Before we enjoy our feast, we gather as we do every Samhain, to honor those who have died since last we lit this fire. Should you wish to honor a friend or family member, please come forward in your turn, take one of the empty wheat sheaves I have up here, speak their name in a toast to all assembled, and throw the wheat sheaf on the fire. If ‘tis easier for you, you don’t have to speak the name aloud, but please still make the toast silently so we can honor your beloved dead with you, even if we do not know their name.” She looked around and caught nods of understanding. “We will begin in silence.”

Quiet stretched across the assembled, broken only by the crackling of the fire. After a few moments, Lady Amber stepped forth and picked up a wheat sheaf.

“I would like to honor my mother’s cousin, who died peacefully of old age in her sleep late last winter.”

She raised her cup of wine, and the creatures of the Abbey followed suit. “Jade.”

“Jade.”

The squirrel queen drank a sip, then threw the sheaf on the fire and watched it burn for a moment before returning to her seat.

One of the Dunehogs, a creature Martin didn’t know who was perhaps a few years younger than himself, stood and made his way to the fire. “Ye don’t know me, but I’m a friend an’ visitor to the Abbey this night. I’d like to do honor to my sister’s husband, killed by a Sea Rogue back in the spring. May his spirit be at rest.” He raised his glass. “Gale.”

They all toasted. “Gale.”

Martin relaxed against Rose’s footpaws, listening and raising his glass when called for. Some creatures made a toast in silence, and the Redwallers raised their goblets in equal silence to the unknown creature, holding them in their hearts even without a name to know. Every so often a creature would leave the circle after they spoke; finding a private space to grieve at Samhain was just as welcomed and encouraged as those who returned to their seats around the fire and sobbed where they sat, and those who found their places again with a sense of peace and relief. Martin tried to predict which group he would fall into in a few minutes, but he couldn’t imagine it. What is this, the…second time in my life I’ve personally honored a creature at the Samhain bonfire? No, the third. Only the third? How could that be? Because Bella spoke for Boar, and Skip for Mask, and…who for Felldoh? Oh, Great Seasons, did I forget Felldoh that autumn? I did. Well, I can hope Brome didn’t.

They were close enough to the fire that he could feel its warmth, but he still felt chilled. He shifted one paw to his neck, attempting to knead out the crick that was forming there, and was surprised when Rose’s warm paw entwined with his own. He looked up at her to see her smiling encouragingly.

“Go on then, dearheart.” It was barely a whisper.

He gave her a wan little smile back, then hauled himself to his footpaws and made his way to the front. The silence stretched around him as he picked up two wheat sheaths and looked at them. They were almost orange in the firelight. The Warrior tried to speak a few times, but was not able to until Bella put one paw on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, saw Denno and Vurg and Dulam and Beau sitting together off to one side. They were smiling at him—sad little smiles, but he felt encouraged nonetheless.

“Tonight I’d like to honor my—my father, Luke the Warrior, and his good friend Ranguvar, who died many seasons ago in battle, defending our people and our homeland.” He paused, then raised the cup of wine in his paw.

“Luke and Ranguvar.” He raised his wine and drank. It was the last few drops in the goblet.

The creatures of Redwall looked back at him, solemn, deep in the ritual silence, and raised their own glasses in a toast. A few rows back, he could see Rose joining in, and he focused on her as the group intoned, “Luke and Ranguvar.”

Martin looked again at the two wheat sheaves in his hand. They were fragile, already crumbling, and he took a deep breath and flicked his paw toward the fire. The dried leaves arched out of his paw and onto the flames, which flared for a moment before the sheaves vanished.

All of a sudden, Martin felt tears rising to his eyes and scrabbling at the back of his throat. He pushed his way back through the crowd, his empty wine goblet falling from his unknowing paws somewhere en route.

He didn’t stop until he’d gained the privacy of the copse of trees around the pond, and once there he sank to his knees and allowed the sobs to rip through him.

A warm paw touched his shoulder, and the Warrior jumped and yelped. Rose knelt down next to him, caressing his shoulder with one paw. Martin bit down hard on his lip in an effort to stifle his tears, embarrassed.

“So—sorry, Rose. Didn’t m-mean for you to f-find me like th-this.” He wiped his eyes on one sleeve, rather more aggressively than he’d meant to, and tried to give her a wan smile.

“Oh! No, my heart. It’s only fitting. Losing your father—finding out you’d lost him long ago—well, I know exactly how lucky I am that I can hardly imagine how painful that is. You go ahead and cry. I just wanted to be here for you while you did.”

Martin stared at her. “You—you what? You wanted to—be here for me while I cried? I—but—why?”

She frowned at him, puzzled. “Because I love you, of course. That’s what creatures do when they love one another. They’re there for each other when they’re sad. I can just—hold you, and you can cry as much as you need to.”

“You can hold—you can? What?” He gaped at her, bottom lip already trembling again with tears about to fall.

Rose settled her back against a tree trunk and gathered him gently into her lap. “There, there, my heart. It’s all right to feel like this. Nobeast will ever think less of you. I won’t ever think less of you. Just let me hold you. I’m here for you, my love.”

The Warrior gave in to his sobs, clutching her to him as his whole body shook.

***

Some time later, he looked up again, eyes red and paws still shaking, but breathing calmer and more still. Rose smiled at him and fished a handkerchief out of one pocket.

“There we are. Better?”

“Aye, tolerably.” He took the handkerchief and wiped his face, then blotted at her shoulder where his tears had soaked into the fabric. “That was…not how I’d expected to react. I’m proud of him for giving his life for us all, you know. And I’d have made the same decision in his place.”

The mousemaid chuckled softly. “If I didn’t know that by now—the number of times you’ve nearly died in defense of those you care about! But you’re still allowed to miss him and feel sad, you know. And I’ve never been best pleased that malebeasts feel the need to be embarrassed when they cry. It’s a perfectly natural reaction and there’s nothing in the world wrong with it.”

Martin buried his face in her shoulder again and put his paws around her waist, flicking the hem of his cloak around their footpaws. “Aye, I know. It’s just a hard habit to break, I suppose.” He paused. “Do you know, that’s only the third time I’ve honored a creature at the Samhain fire? Me, with all the death I’ve known in my life!”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Luke and Ranguvar tonight. My friend Timballisto; you remember hearing about him. And—” he trailed off, listening to her pulse beat in her throat.

“And?”

The Warrior raised his head to meet her eyes, and he fished one paw out of his cloak to cup her cheek. “And you.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, looking away from her and out at the still pond water, dropping his paw to her shoulder. “I stopped in some little village on the edge of the northlands that first autumn after I left. To this day I don’t know where it was or what it was called. Probably one of the more distant tribes around Noonvale, to be perfectly honest; I wasn’t that far south of the Broadstream and I’d cut a bit further west than I’d meant to by that point. When I saw their bonfire being lit at dusk and realized what day it was, I just slipped in at the back. And when it was my turn, I did a silent toast to you and—” his voice ran dry.

“And then slipped away again?” Rose’s paw was on his cheek now, and her eyes were bright with tears. “Oh, my dear Martin. I’m so, so sorry.”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling fierce. “No! No, that’s not why I told you the story. We’ve already talked about this. We forgave each other months ago, and I know we both meant it. My only point was—” His jaw worked silently, no words coming out. That I love you so, so much. That I’ve loved you since the very moment I met you, and in all these seasons since I lost you I never imagined having this much joy and this much comfort and trust. And I don’t know why I can’t say the words to you, I know it makes it harder for you with the gossip we’re both having to endure, but please, please understand how true it is.

“Yes?”

Martin shook his head again, then leaned in and kissed her. It was just a little kiss, gentle and tender and sweet, but he tried to pour his love and gratitude into it and he must have succeeded because he felt her clutch at the front of his cloak for a moment as she returned the kiss.

He pulled away after a not particularly long time. “Thank you. My point was to thank you.”

Mmm. Not what I meant to say. Well, it’s a start. Better than nothing.

Rose smiled at him, ran her paws across his shoulders, and then hauled herself upright against him. “Are you ready to go back? I think it’s nearly time for the feast.”

The Warrior smiled, still shaky but much less so than before. “Aye. Let’s go.”

They headed off paw in paw, toward the glow of the fire and the presence of their community.

***

The feast was just as loud and boisterous as the bonfire preceding it had been quiet and introspective. Creatures chattered and laughed as they passed dishes from paw to paw across the table, enjoying the good food together. Martin chose not to sit with the Council at High Table, and Rose sat next to him as usual. On her other side, she found herself next to Gale’s brother-in-law, the Dunehog. He held out a paw to her, eyes twinkling.

“An’ whom do I have the pleasure of meetin’ this evenin’?”

“Charmed, I’m sure, sir. My name is Rose.”

“Ah, ‘tis pleased I am to meet you, Miss Rose. My name be Niel.”

They shook paws, after which Niel reached around Rose to shake paws with Martin, and across the table to do the same with the squirrel there, and, finally, Spike on his other side.

“Spike Stickle. My family all lives at Redwall, but personally I live out in Mossflower.”

Rose had taken a big bite of soup, but she nearly spit it out for laughing as she noticed Niel actually looking Spike up and down, clearly impressed. The two set to flirting almost instantly, and by the time five minutes had passed, Rose was convinced, they had no idea that anybeast else was at the table except them.

Martin nudged her and whispered in her ear. “D’you think we acted like that at that feast your parents gave us in Noonvale?”

The mousemaid laughed. “Yes, as I recall we absolutely did. In fact, we were so obvious that my father spoke to me about it afterwards”

“Aye, your mother spoke to me, as well. She was the soul of kindness in how she phrased it, mind you, but it was clear that everybeast in Noonvale had noticed instantly.”

They both smiled, and then Rose turned to Skipper across the table from her to draw him into conversation. “What do you think of the play Lady Amber is planning to present at midwinter, Skip? Are you going to try out? I know I certainly am!”

Chapter Text

The next morning, the weather drew in. Rain and sleet lashed at the Abbey windows, and even the roaring fire in the grate in the little ground floor room where the trade delegation met couldn’t drown out the sounds of the storm. The meeting was just drawing to a close, ink drying on the short-term agreement reached for an exchange of goods, and all creatures present beginning to drift from the serious focus of business-talk into more casual conversation, when Martin looked around.

“Murfo, you haven’t got the right number of creatures here. And in fact we’re minus a signature on the agreement. Who’s missing?”

The Dunehog looked up and squinted around the room. “Sure, an’ I’d never noticed, you’re right, Martin. ‘Tis Niel who’s absent. I wonder where he be?” He held out a goblet for the elderflower wine that was now being passed around, and shrugged. “Well, ‘tisn’t a grand matter if he slept through the meeting. We all trust one another; he can look it over and sign when he wakes.”

Bella had overheard their conversation. “Bit late for sleeping in; ‘twill be noon before we know it. I’ll have somebeast check on him, if you’d like, Murfo?”

“Aye, ma’am, that would be just grand.”

***

But in the end, it didn’t require a search party to find Niel. He emerged from the cellar, holding paws with Spike, both of them giggling uproariously. Within half an hour the rumor was flying around the storm-bound Abbey, and not in a positive way.

By the hour after lunchtime, Rose had had enough. The meal had been full of tension, creatures muttering and shooting covert glances from where Spike and Niel sat shoulder to shoulder, lost in their own little world, to where Martin and Rose sat together further down the table trying to ignore them all. Rose had gritted her teeth and tried to put a brave face on it as she ate. Martin had kept a protective paw on the small of her back all through the meal, and he’d tried to be bright and sociable to all around them and direct the conversation to the most neutral topics he could think of, but it did no good: the glances and whispers didn’t stop.

She stomped off after lunch and let her foul mood direct her to where Columbine stood alone, deep in the pantries, list in hand as she began ticking off the vegetables to be given to the Dunehogs. The mousemaid slammed the door behind her and flung herself down on a stack of flour sacks in the corner.
“Rose! Goodness, what brings you here in such a state?”

“I’m finished with that lot, Columbine, do you hear me? Absolutely finished! I’m sick of their rumor-mongering and their judgmental attitude toward anybeast whose relationship doesn’t look exactly like theirs does. Sick of it!”

Columbine shook her head, setting her parchment and charcoal stick down on top of the barrel of vegetables that she was filling, and crossing the room to sit down next to Rose. “I’m sorry you’ve been experiencing that. I so wanted to be wrong about them. Will you tell me what happened?”

Rose fiddled with the tassel on the flour sack. “Oh, nothing in particular. But I’ve overheard some gossip about Martin not having honorable intentions toward me, whatever that means, and I’m sure you saw how they were treating Spike and Niel at lunch this afternoon—and including us in their glances?”

The mousewife nodded, silent. “It’s not the sort of conduct I hoped for from Redwallers. And I won’t lie to you, it’s also part of why Spike chooses not to live here full time anymore. He likes to flirt around and have affairs, just for fun; he’s not the type who wants to settle down. In my personal opinion, as long as there’s consent on both sides that’s his business and only his business, but some around here—”

“It’s simply that—” Rose sighed. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. It’s none of their business. Any of them. And for us, for Martin and me—Columbine, I don’t want him to propose to me just yet—that is, someday I do, but not yet. Something is stopping him from telling me verbally that he loves me, and I don’t know what it is. I have no doubt whatsoever that he does love me; his actions make that more than clear on a daily basis. And I know I won’t hear it from him very often in any case, but he hasn’t even said it once, and I’m sure there’s a good reason for that. I would marry him in a heartbeat or even less, but whatever is holding him back, I want him to work through it and feel comfortable first. It’s been twenty-two seasons, Columbine! The separation was challenging for both of us and so is getting to know one another again. Do they have any idea how hard that is? Do they have any idea how much harder they’re making it than it already is?”

Columbine’s gaze filled with concern. “Aye, that’s absolutely right. Do you think he’s feeling pressure as well?”

“A little, yes. I catch him looking troubled sometimes after walking past gossiping groups of creatures, so I do think he overhears things just like I do. I don’t think he has as much of a problem with it as I do; creatures who have known him for a long time are more respectful around him.”

“I should think it’d be the other way around, that they’d be more respectful around you. You’re new here.”

“Well, thank you. But he couldn’t miss the daggers in everybeast’s glances at lunch today. And I’ve told him about most of the rumors I’ve heard—not in the sense of the pressure coming from me, of course, but in the sense that he can tell when I’m upset and I tell him the truth. But neither one of us should be feeling pressured! Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

“Aye. You’re absolutely right, Rose.” Columbine paused. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m assuming you’re already speaking up if you hear overt comments against us—”

“Of course I am, but that’s only happened once or twice; there’s only so much good it’ll do—”

“—Thank you, but I think you’re right, and beyond that I don’t know what you can do.”

“Do you and Martin want to talk to the Abbess?”

“Perhaps. Let’s see if it dies down when creatures get used to Spike and Niel.”

“Oh, they won’t get used to them. They’ll choose not to get used to them; I’ve seen it before. But I’ll respect your wishes. Just let me know if you want me to be there for moral support if you decide to talk to the Abbess. I’m confident she’ll take your side; their behavior is unacceptable.”

“I do appreciate that, Columbine. You’re a good friend.”

“I hope to be, Rose. I’m glad you’re here at Redwall.”

***

It was worse by dinnertime. Rose had spent the whole afternoon reading to the Abbess, and she gathered from Martin when they met up at the table that he’d been helping Bella mark the morning’s arithmetic work from the Abbey school. Since they were officially celebrating the end of the successful trade negotiation, they sat at High Table with the Council and the guests, and they found themselves sitting next to Niel again. As pleasant as the conversation was between the four of them, however—Niel told stories about his life in the Dunes, and Rose offered up stories of her own from Noonvale—Rose couldn’t stop noticing the glances and mutters from the creatures at the other tables. And this time, after her conversation with Columbine, she noticed that Martin’s body language was as uncomfortable as her own. So he is noticing, and he’s bothered by it.

When the meal concluded, she beckoned him to follow her. The storm had ended around mid-afternoon, and the evening air was chilly but the clouds were beginning to break up and reveal stars. They crunched through the fallen sleet on the lawn, not speaking for a few minutes until they got to the pond. Then Rose turned to Martin.

“Listen, Martin. What on Earth is going on with them?” She waved a paw vaguely back in the direction of the Abbey, looming almost purple in the starlight. “Why are they acting like this?”

The Warrior sighed, and gazed across the surface of the water. Little ripples of water, pushed by the breeze, lapped at the rim of frost around the shore. “You know the answer to that perfectly well, I think, Rose. We both do. It’s because I haven’t—” he trailed off, looking at her miserably.

She sighed. “Yes. Yes, I know you’re right. But you know I don’t want you to until you’re ready, don't you? There’s something stopping you, and if I can help, I wish you’d tell me what it was. But I also won't press you on it, and it's even less of their business. Why is that so hard for them?”

He stared at the ground. “I don’t—I really don’t know. I wish—”

“And now they’re taking it, whatever it is, out on Spike and Niel as well, which is just as unfair.”

“Well, there is some history there, you should know. Spike’s always been more than a bit of a flirt—”

“Martin, I DON’T CARE if he flirts with EVERY adult male hedgehog within a month’s march of Mossflower! Or if he expands his flirtation horizons to all hedgehogs regardless of gender, or even to other species of creatures, for that matter! It’s UNFAIR to him, and to us. They don’t get to define what a loving relationship looks like for other creatures, and I want it stopped, but I don't know how to go about that!”

His voice rose to match hers. “Rose, I’ve lived here for eighteen seasons, now. If I knew how to make them stop gossiping about me, I’d have done it long since. I’m sorry you’re being dragged into it, but I honestly have no idea what to do about this!”

“Nell and Primrose aren’t getting this kind of treatment. They’re getting a pass because they’re young. They’re childhood sweethearts. And that’s all very well and good, Martin, but we were suppose to be just like that. If we’d stayed in Noonvale we’d have had that same storybook romance and gotten all the indulgent smiles that they’re getting.”

“No, we wouldn’t have. You know perfectly well your parents—”

“Oh, leave my parents out of this, will you? I want to like it here, I truly do. But I can’t do this, Martin, I can’t. I want to stay at Redwall with you; I really do—and now that winter’s closing in I’m certainly not leaving by myself, so we have one and a half seasons to fix this. You don’t stand for creatures you care about being treated poorly; I know that about you. And this time it’s being directed at us and at our friends. So we need to work together to figure out what to do about this--this--bullying, because it is entirely unfair to us both!”

She whirled on her heels and stalked back to the Abbey, leaving Martin staring after her.

Chapter Text

“Yes, Nell, but consider this: almond cake with meadowcream and candied violets. That was your favorite back when we were Dibbuns.” Primrose looked up from the list she was writing and tapped her quill pen on her nose thoughtfully.

“It was indeed. But wasn’t your favorite always lemon cake?”

“In the summer it certainly is! But if we’re talking about the spring equinox for our wedding day, that’s far too early. ‘Tisn’t hot enough yet for lemons.”
Nell stretched her footpaws out in front of her, lounging in her chair. “We’ll have lemons, though; those voles from the south always come through here with them in late winter. And the oranges. Mmmm, oranges! I know you can’t stand them, though. I’m not suggesting them.”

“Well, we’ll also have almonds, love. We have almonds year-round. And meadowcream.”

“True. And candied violets. So you don’t want a lemon cake for our wedding cake?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not this time. Unless you do, of course; I can certainly live with a lemon cake—you’re absolutely right, I do like them in general.”

“No, no, that’s fine! I don’t mind them either, but I suggested them mainly because I thought you’d want one. Almond and meadowcream with candied violets, then?”

“I’d love that!” Primrose frowned. “Unless you wouldn’t?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t say that! I was just checking! Yes, I would enjoy that very much.”

“Wonderful! That’s settled, then?”

“Probably. Assuming we can get the kitchen on board with us, of course. Oh, here comes Iris now! Good morning, Iris!”

The squirrelwife smiled at the two hogmaids and hurried over. “Good morning, Nell. Good morning, Primrose. What are the two of you up to?”

“Choosing our wedding feast menu!” Primrose grinned as she slid the list she’d been writing across the table so that Iris could see it.

“Oh, lovely! Let’s see what we have here. Starters…soup…salads, lots of salads, good…main dishes…goodness, that’s a lot of main dishes!...let’s see, breads…pastries…oh, and an almond and meadowcream cake with candied violets, how lovely!” Iris’s voice was brisk, but when she looked up there was a worried crease between her eyebrows. “My dears, this is an awfully large amount of food.”

Primrose nodded, brisk and businesslike. “We know, ‘tis at Equinox, so the food won’t be as plentiful. Our families are taking that into account; my father and Nell’s have each committed to contributing produce and grain. We had good harvests this year; ‘twon’t be a problem.”

Iris nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’m simply a bit…surprised that you’d have this many guests.”

The two hogmaids exchanged glances. Nell spoke. “I think we’ve counted our guests fairly well, Iris. The food we’ll have will be just plenty. ‘Tisn’t as though we’ll have a different number of guests from any other Abbey wedding, really—the inhabitants of the Abbey itself, a few of the outlying Mossflower families, and our own families.”

“Well, I know that, but as it’s our very first wedding of two maids, it seemed as though it would be smaller—”

Silence fell. The three creatures looked at one another. Iris’s face reddened.

“That is—all I meant was, as sort of a—a trial run—”

Primrose and Nell stood. Nell felt Primrose reach for her paw, and she took it as she forced herself to breathe.

“Thank you very much for your input on our wedding, Iris,” Nell said, her voice hardening to steel. “I’m sure we don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

“Yes, you looked very busy earlier. We look forward to seeing you at lunch,” Primrose added.

The squirrelwife had the grace to keep silent as she hurried away. The two hogmaids watched, and as soon as she was gone, Primrose enfolded Nell into an embrace. She sighed.

“Finish this list some other time, love?”

“Aye, let’s.”

***

Martin didn’t see Rose at first when he came down for breakfast the following morning. When he finally caught a glimpse of her, she seemed to be trying to catch his eye, but he avoided it and hurried to sit at High Table with the rest of the Council. He spent breakfast pushing his food around on his plate, until finally Gonff grabbed him by the shoulder and beckoned him for a walk outside.

When they were as out of earshot as they were likely to get, the Mousethief stopped to face his best friend. “Listen, Martin, I know you like to be alone when you’re upset. But when you’re in a serious relationship with a mousemaid—no, don’t look at me like that, I know what this is—it’s different.”

“Gonff, trust me, I know her. I know—”

“No, you trust me. I’ve been married for eighteen seasons now, and believe me, I learned this one the hard way! If you need to get away and calm down when you argue with her the next time—and it is when, not if, by the way—then that’s perfectly reasonable. But once you’re feeling better, you’ve got to go back and say something to her. She’s worried, you understand? And when she’s worried, she’s liable to get even madder. Or some mousemaids fall to bits instead. I don’t know. In any case, go back and talk to her. Otherwise nothing gets solved. How would you feel if she were refusing to talk to you about something?”

"Hmm. Well, when you put it that way—"

***

He found Rose in the kitchen with a couple of squirrels and a Dunehog, helping to chop vegetables for lunch. He tapped her on the shoulder, and when she turned around, he offered her a small smile.

"Listen, Rose, I owe you an apology. D’you think we could take a walk?"

She frowned, but nodded. “Yes. I’d like that very much. Out to Mossflower for maximum privacy, d’you think?”

“Aye.”

They parted briefly to return to their dormitories for cloaks, then made their way through the Abbey, across the lawn, and out the east wall gate into the forest. Leaves crunched underpaw, and the wet silhouettes of bare trees rose black and stark against the high, white clouds that covered the autumn sky. After a few moments, the Warrior spoke. “You’re wondering why it looks as though I won’t commit to officially, publicly courting you. To be perfectly honest I don’t think that would entirely stop the rumors; creatures around here—the same as anywhere—like their patterns, and since we’re older than most new couples, I think rumors will happen no matter what. However, you’re absolutely correct that you deserve to hear my reasoning, and it’s not because I’m not—Great Seasons, Rose, it’s not at all because I don’t—”

She took his paw. “I believe you. Go on.”

He took a deep breath. "I've never told this to anybeast before, and it isn't going to be easy for me, so I'll ask you for your patience. I would also appreciate it if you didn’t repeat it."

"Of course."

Martin let the silence stretch for a little while longer, then began to speak.

"You know that I fought the wildcat queen, Tsarmina, two summers after I fought Badrang. It was an even more vicious battle, and in the end my injuries were even worse. A few days after I awoke, the Abbess—she had been in charge of healing me; you know by now what a talented healer she is—sat me down and told me something. She told me that—"

He stopped, shut his eyes, and took a deep breath against the tremor that threatened to creep into his voice. "Told me that, based on the nature of my injuries, she strongly suspected I would never be able to father a child."

"Oh."

He risked a glance at her. The mousemaid had her paws clasped in front of her body, knuckles white with pressure. Her face was set, rigid. Martin turned to face her. “I won't go into the medical details right now. But it's why I—why I haven’t…officially said anything. Please don't misunderstand me; I don't want you to go, not at all! My—my darling, I—well. If you need to leave Redwall once it’s spring again, given that—that I can’t offer you that kind of a future—" He stopped, unable to continue, and searched her face for some sort of emotion, anything at all, fighting the lump in his throat. At last, he whispered, “It needs to be your choice. You deserve that.”

After a moment, Rose spoke. “Martin—” she paused. “I appreciate your honesty. But how could it have possibly been my choice if you didn’t say something to me?”

The Warrior sighed. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

They stood in silence for a moment, not making eye contact. Then Rose spoke again. "Martin, do you love me?"

The question caught him by surprise, and the answer tumbled out before he had time to think. "I—yes! I love you more than life itself!"

He couldn't be sure, but he thought that when she flicked her paws into a fold in her tunic, she may have been hiding a tremble. "Do you trust me?"

"Completely. But above all, I want you to be happy."

Rose stepped forward and put one paw over his lips to quiet him. Up close, he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears. "I had to be certain before I said this." Her voice quavered. "I can see that it broke your heart to learn—that—about yourself. It’s only recently that I’ve suspected you wanted children, but I can tell you that I did, too. Very much. But Martin—" She stopped, took a deep breath, slid her paws into his, and continued. “You must understand that I came south because I wanted you more than anything. More than anything, do you understand me? I could have stayed safe in Noonvale with my family and forgotten about you. Found somebeast else and had a gaggle of children by now. It would have been so easy; I’ve told you how many admirers I’ve always had. I was sick of them by the time I was sixteen seasons old, frankly! But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

She was crying now, tears running down her cheeks. “And part of that is that we can be there for each other when something is wrong. You can always tell me. You can trust me with your feelings. I said it the other night, and I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it: that’s one of the things I mean when I say I love you.” She pressed her forehead to his.

Relief began pouring through him. She wants to stay! She wants to stay! He pulled her close to him, burying his face in the soft fur at her neck. Thank the seasons I haven’t lost her.

“Can you promise to tell me next time something is bothering you?”

“I’ll try. I can promise to try.” He took a shaky breath. “Great Seasons, Rose, I love you so much.” And now it’s not so hard to say after all.

“Thank you, my darling. That’s all I ask.”

She leaned back from his embrace to kiss him, and he caught the back of her head in one paw and deepened the kiss until they were both gasping for breath. When they came up for air, Martin stroked her cheek with one paw, then dropped it to her shoulder. “Let’s get back, hmm?”

They walked off, paw in paw, silent except for the wet, fallen leaves shifting under their footpaws.

Chapter Text

“Who in here wanted the apples?”

As a singer, Rose was always very good at projecting her voice to be heard over a general babble. She needed that skill nearly every time she worked in the kitchen, and today was no exception. Heads turned as creatures looked up from their chopping, peeling, roasting, and stirring, and within only a few seconds Goody Stickle’s paw went up.

“I did, my dear. Bring them over here, will ye—and if you aren’t busy, I wouldn’t say no to some help peelin’ and choppin’ them, either.”

Soon the mousemaid was standing alongside the old hogwife, paws deep in apple peels.

“How are you settling in, dearie?”

“Oh—you know, not so badly. It’s an adjustment, as I’m sure you can imagine. But this truly is a beautiful place, and I’m happy to be with Martin at last.”

“Good, I’m glad. And you’re making friends and all?”

“Yes, I’m starting to.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

They worked in silence for another few minutes. Then Rose spoke. “It must be nice for you to have your son Spike home to visit.”

Goody hesitated as if she were choosing her words with care. “Aye, it is. Mind you, as much as he’s my son and I love him no matter what, I can rather see why he doesn’t choose to live here full time anymore. The way he carries on.”

Rose tried to squash the irritation that flooded her. His own mother! “Oh, well, some creatures do like to flirt. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Well, when I was young nobeast held with that kind of behavior. You fell in love, you had the banns read, you were married, just like that. None o’ this…hangin’ around snogging in corners for months. It simply wasn’t—oh my.” She stopped, paw covering her mouth, seemingly realizing what she had said and whom she had said it to.

“Now, mum, I love you very much, but I think that’s going a little too far.”

Rose looked up, face as red as the apple in her paw. The kitchen had gone silent, and everybeast was watching Spike. The hedgehog had come in silently with an satchel of firewood, and now stood behind his mother. He spoke again.

“I know ‘tis hard for you to accept how I live my life. Great Seasons, I know ‘twas hard enough for some of you to accept it when I figured out I prefer malebeasts! Now, ye’ve all come a long way, and I’m proud of how naturally you’re treating Primrose and Nell. But you’ve all got to understand that even if you don’t like the fact that yes, I like my flirtations, and yes, Martin and Rose are taking their time working out what I’ll remind you is a twenty-two season gap in their relationship and making sure they’re still suited for one another after all this time—that you simply can’t go talking about creatures behind their backs like this. Not me, and not them. Our relationships don’t have to look like yours. ‘Tisn’t the friendly image you’re all striving for, and you’re all better than that. Just…live and let live. Accept that other creatures are different from you.”

A squirrel in the back of the kitchen, whose name Rose hadn’t caught yet, piped up. “Aye, you’re right, Spike. We owe you, Niel, Martin, and Rose an apology. We owe the four of you individuals an apology, mind. But some of us don’t care for the broader example you’re setting for our young’uns. We aren’t looking for Dibbuns to be born out of wedlock here.”

Rose’s temper snapped. “How does that have anything whatsoever to do with it? Teach them what you expect of them. We’re older than them. We’ve taken our knowledge of our own selves into account. Leave us to take care of ourselves and focus on your own younguns.”

A general murmur arose from the creatures gathered in the kitchen, and heads shook.

“What is going on in here?”

Martin’s voice was loud and commanding, but all eyes went to the Abbess. Nobeast at Redwall had ever seen Abbess Germaine radiate such disapproval. She stood framed in the doorway, leaning on Martin’s paw while she held her conch ear trumpet up with her other paw. At her signal, Martin handed her the walking stick he’d been carrying for her, and he crossed the room to stand next to Rose.

“We were passing by and I heard raised voices. Are you all right?”

Rose only looked at him. He slid a paw around her waist.

It was Spike who answered. “Bullying, Abbess, marm. Bullying directed toward myself and Niel, and obliquely reflected on Martin and Rose.”

Germaine didn’t speak. She merely looked around the kitchen, profound disappointment filling her face.

“That’s a very serious accusation to make against a fellow Redwaller, Spike, but unfortunately, I must say that based on the rumors I’ve heard flying around lately, I am more than inclined to believe you. The three of you are to come with me. You may find other duties for the remainder of the afternoon; that is, after we have arranged a time to discuss this accusation with the creatures directly implicated, in private, with my mediation. As to the rest of you—” she fixed the other creatures in the room with an icy glare—"we will address this in the morning. Carry on.”

The four of them marched out of the room, leaving the kitchen in stunned silence.

***

Eight creatures gathered in the Abbess’s gatehouse study after dinner: Martin, Rose, Niel, and Spike; along with Skipper, Goody, and two older squirrelwives Rose didn’t know, but one of whose voices she'd recognized on the walk over as one of the two creatures from the overheard conversation by the pond. Columbine, who had escorted the Abbess to the gatehouse, moved around the room taking cloaks, moving the comfortable armchairs around the room into a circle, checking that the Abbess was settled in her own chair, pouring beakers of dandelion cordial, and poking the blazing fire in the grate. All of this accomplished, she took her leave. Nobeast talked much, and not much could be heard except for the muffled click of goblets on the wooden table and the gentle crackle of the fire.

“Now then, I want to have this out in a civilized manner. I want to hear exactly what happened from all sides before I make a decision about what is to be done. We’re not talking about deciding punishment for anybeast or putting any of you in your place; I want that extremely clear. We’re here to mend a fruitless quarrel in a way that will be fair and just for all involved. Have I made myself understood? Good. Rose, my dear, will you hand me my conch shell. Thank you. Who wants to go first?” She looked around the room.

After a short silence, Spike raised a paw. “I will, marm. You know some of my complaint for the past several seasons—that many of these creatures do not respect the way I wish to conduct my life, simply because I’m not the settling down or marrying type. I don’t think it’s directly got to do with my inclination toward other malebeasts, or at least not anymore—but we discussed that long ago. Anyway, it’s come up again lately, what with Niel here. What’s made me especially frustrated these past few weeks, though, is how Martin and Rose have been swept up in it all. I keep hearin’ creatures remarking that Martin must not have honorable intentions toward her, or that Rose must be out to manipulate him, and all because they’re not asking you to read the banns for them yet. Abbess, marm, I’ve long since made my own decision about how I wish to live, and if some don’t like it, that’s their concern. But how any creature can begrudge them the chance to heal twenty-two seasons’ worth of hurt and loss before making a bigger commitment to one another—setting aside the plain fact that anybeast who’s calling our own Warrior dishonorable is clearly living in dreamland—I simply don’t know.”

Germaine nodded. “Thank you, Spike. Niel, Rose, and Martin, do any of you wish to add anything?”

Rose and Niel shook their heads, but Martin, clutching Rose’s paw so tightly that she winced, spoke. “’Tis all just like he says. And I have to say, I’d have expected better of how you treat Rose and Niel, at least, seeing as they’re new here!”

The others shifted and murmured.

Abbess Germaine let the silence stretch for a moment, then nodded crisply and turned to face the other group of creatures.

“And what have all of you to say for yourselves?”

Skipper shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. “Abbess, marm, I can’t speak for anybeast but myself, but this was no coordinated effort. For my part it was intended as simply teasing, and I’d no idea that it would grow into rumors of this magnitude. I was giving Martin a bit o’ grief over his inexperience in romantic relationships, no more so than I’d do for any other friend. Great Seasons, if he’d been with every mousemaid in the Abbey I’d have teased him about that instead! It’s simply my way; you know that and so does he.” Here the otter sought Martin’s eye; the latter nodded, and he continued. “But I didn’t realize he was so sensitive about it, and while I did tell others about the conversation, I certainly didn’t intend that to be the start of a rumor. All four of you, I offer you a heartfelt apology for any role I played in this.” He placed a paw over his heart and bowed to them.

“Thank you, Skip. I appreciate that.” Martin nodded to his friend.

“Iris?” The Abbess beckoned to the squirrelwife whose voice Rose recognized.

“Well, now I must say, I’ve never held with any of this. I can begin to see, thanks to Nell and Primrose’s shining example, why we all ought to accept creatures loving those of the same gender. But why they must shove it in our faces like Spike and Niel are doing—and more to the point, why anybeast can’t simply court in a nice, simple, old-fashioned way like everybeast did when we were younger, Abbess, I have to say I fail to understand.”

“Because the world changes, Iris.” Martin shifted in his seat, letting go of Rose’s paw to lean forward across the table. “Because my life and Rose’s life have been very hard, and we deserve the time space to be trusted and treated like adults while we work everything out. Because if Spike were a confirmed bachelor who was interested in maids rather than malebeasts you’d be rolling your eyes rather than spreading vicious rumors. Because when I came upon Nell crying in the cellars the other day, you’d told her you didn’t think she should have a lot of guests at her wedding simply because she’s marrying another maid.”

“Really, Martin, with all due respect, I fail to see—”

“None of this has the least bit to do with the example any of us are setting for the young’uns. We are quite old enough to make our own decisions, and they can certainly be told that ‘tis better to wait until they’re old enough to know their own mind before deciding to commit or not. Certainly Nell and Primrose got that lesson loud and clear, and apparently they listened to it. But isn’t it a better example to show them that love is love, and that all forms of love—young or old, male or female, longstanding or brand new—meet with acceptance and joy here at Redwall? Is that not what we stand for?”

The Abbess nodded. “Well spoken, Martin. Iris, have you anything to say to that? Or Goody?”

They were silent for a moment, and then Goody spoke. “Aye, I do see what you mean, Martin, and it seems I owe all of you—particularly my son—” she glanced at him—“an apology. It’s so easy to fall into old patterns and assume everybeast around you will as well, and all I want is for all of you to be happy.”

“Have you grasped, Mum, that being treated like this doesn’t make any of us happy? That perhaps what made you happy was all very well and good but that it's not for everybeast?”

She chuckled. “Aye, son, I have indeed grasped that. It took me long enough, to be sure, but I’ll do my best to mend my ways.”

Spike smiled. “Thank you, mum. I love you.”

“I love you too, son.” They clinked glasses, and Spike covered his mother’s paw with his own on the table as they drank.

Germaine turned to the others, one eyebrow raised. Iris nodded.

“Well, put like that, I do see what you all mean by what you say. I apologize as well; I’ll watch my words more carefully in the future. I see you’ve all got the best of intentions.”

“Thank you, Iris.” Rose nodded.

The Abbess shifted in her seat so that her shawls covered her more thoroughly. “All of you know the story of how I became Abbess of Loamhedge. You know that for personal reasons as well as the usual moral ones, I absolutely will not stand for bullying of this variety at Redwall. The four of you—” she nodded at Martin, Rose, Spike, and Niel—“I require to tell me if you hear anything else of this sort. Meanwhile, I’ll speak to the entire Abbey at breakfast tomorrow morning. The rest of you, your job is to speak up if you hear rumors or mutterings; help quash them. Help others learn to be better. Is that perfectly clear?”

Every creature around the table nodded.

“Then drink to it. To love, and to kindness.”

Eight voices echoed her, and their glasses clinked. “To love, and to kindness.”

Chapter Text

Dawn had not yet begun to wash out the blackness of the sky outside the dormitory when Martin finally got tired of lying abed and trying not to fidget enough to wake the otter in the next cot. He rose and dressed as silently as he could in the darkness, then pulled his sword and swordbelt out from beneath his bed and tiptoed out of the room, placing a paw on the door to stop it from slamming shut.

It was a week after Midwinter, and it was still early enough in the morning that the fires hadn’t yet been properly lit in the common room between the four third-floor dormitories—two for single adult malebeasts and two for single adult femalebeasts—and the Warrior was glad to seek the warmth of the last dying embers of the previous night’s fire. He settled down on the hearth and unsheathed his sword, examining the blade for notches and the leather bindings on the hilt for tears or worn spots. Both were as flawless as ever, and Martin found himself ruminating over the long seasons he had spent carrying it. He sighed and shook his head. It had brought him pride in his family heritage, the satisfaction of excelling at a useful skill, and more fame than he knew what to do with, but it had never brought him the least bit of happiness. The Warrior sighed, casting his mind back to the days before he had won Luke's blade back from Badrang. I was so sure that having the thing in my paws again would make me happy, but I was wrong. All the true joy in my life has come from my love for the creatures of Mossflower and my love for Rose.

Martin heard the faint sounds of movement coming from the ladies' dormitory off the other side of the common room, sheathed his sword and sat quietly on the hearth, rubbing his paws together for warmth. He had chosen this particular morning after he had looked at the lists of volunteers to be the first awake and light the fires and saw Rose's name on this date. She needed to share in this moment. It was hers just as much as it was his.

After a few minutes, Rose appeared through the doorway. He stood up and smiled at her as she approached, and she hurried toward him.

"Martin! What are you doing up this early?" She leaned in to kiss him.

"Mmm. G’morning, love. I was waiting for you. I want you to come and see something."

"All right. Wait just a tick while I light the fires, will you?"

He glanced at the sky out the windows high up in the wall. The small strips of sky visible through them were turning indigo. "No, you need to come now. Krar is waiting for us. It won't take long."

"Krar? Your goshawk friend? Well, as long as we hurry back."

Outside the fog was stained purple with dawn light, and stray snowflakes drifted off of tree branches in the breeze and stuck to the two mice's cloaks and fur as they hurried in silence around the Abbey toward the east wall. The grounds were silent and still except for the sound of their footpaws crunching through the fallen snow. When they reached the east side of the Abbey grounds Martin led her up the stairs to the walltop, treading carefully for fear of ice, and turned to face Mossflower. The woods made a rustling sea of snow and treetops, still dark as the very first pink streaks of dawn began to creep across the eastern sky.

"Kreeech! At last! I had been afraid that thou hadst forgotten our appointed meeting."

The Warrior jumped in surprise and whipped around at the sound of the goshawk's voice. He composed himself quickly, however, and addressed Krar in a solemn tone.

"Nay, sir, I had done no such thing. I believed it well that my lady Rose should be present for this, as I have chosen this course of action as much to be a gift to her as for my own sake."

He could see Rose looking from one to the other in mounting curiosity, but before she could speak, Krar asked, "That is well indeed. Thou art still resolved, then?"

"Aye. Entirely so." He raised a paw to his chest, unbuckled the strap from which his sword had hung for twenty-three seasons, and handed the sheathed sword to the goshawk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose gasp and clap both paws to her mouth. "Hereby do I lay down the title of Warrior and the burden of my sword. Take it to the place appointed, Krar, and there let it remain until the one who is worthy of its legacy has need of it in Redwall's defense."

Krar flapped his wings and took off without another word. Martin turned to Rose and found her beaming. He returned her smile, and although he hadn't worn his sword around during the day in many weeks, his shoulders already felt much lighter than he could ever remember.

"Martin! You're—you're becoming a mouse of peace?"

He nodded and traced her cheekbone with one paw, smiling too widely to be able to speak.

Say it now. That's half the reason you dragged her up here at this hour of the morning, isn't it? To force yourself to stop thinking it and start saying it. You'll never have another chance like this again!

And so, in the split second before she could throw herself into his arms, Martin took both her paws in his and dropped to one knee on the cold sandstone walltop. Rose went utterly still. He looked into her face for a long moment, watching the tears rapidly welling in her eyes in the broadening light. The sight of those eyes can still make my heart pound, even after all this time. Great Seasons, she's beautiful.

He had lain awake half the night choosing the exact words he wanted to use with all a poet's care, crafting exquisite speeches in which he poured out his soul to her syllable by syllable, working until it was perfect, but now that the moment had come he found that he had forgotten it all. When he opened his mouth, all that came out was, "Rose, darling, will you marry me? Please?"

She nodded. "Oh, yes!"

Then she fell to her knees beside him and kissed him. Their paws wound around each others' necks and shoulders and their whiskers tangled as their lips pressed together again and again. Martin had just fallen back on his heels against the parapet for balance when he heard Krar's voice to one side.

"Kreeeeagh! I take it, then, that thy lady accepts thy gift?"

They scrambled to their footpaws, brushing frost from their clothing and straightening their cloaks, faces hot in the chilly air. Martin spoke. "Aye, Krar, she does. She has also—" he glanced at Rose, and elation began to fill him as the magnitude of what had just happened started to sink in—"just consented to become my wife. I am sure we would be honored by thy attendance at the wedding, although we have not yet chosen a date."

It was hard to tell, but the goshawk seemed to be smirking. "I offer you both my good wishes. If I am near Redwall at the appointed time, then I would be delighted to accept thy gracious offer." He flapped his wings. "But for now, I must go. Good fortune and long life travel with thee, sir Martin and lady Rose!" He took off and circled once around them where they stood on the walltop, then banked south and disappeared into the woodlands.

Rose laid her head on Martin's shoulder and slipped a paw around his waist. She gazed out at the Abbey, now pink and glowing as the sun cleared the horizon. After a moment, she spoke. "Oh, my. Talk about worth the wait! Those gossips can go jump in a lake, if you ask me. That was better than I ever imagined."

As she turned and smiled at him, he found that he couldn't resist kissing her again. When the kiss ended, he said, “I’m glad you liked it. I wanted to tie it to this moment when I gave up my sword, but I confess I put it off for nearly a week because I couldn’t find the right words.”

Rose laughed. "Finding the right words? Martin, you picked the most straightforward ones possible and they were perfect anyway! How hard could it have been?"

"Wasn't what I meant to say. I had a whole speech planned, but it just wasn't what came out of my mouth when it came down to it." He shrugged. "I suppose I got the point across in the end."

She was still smiling fit to burst, but she managed to narrow her eyes in suspicion. "That you most certainly did. But don't think I won't try to wring the original out of you someday!" The mousemaid launched herself at him and started tickling every part of him that she could reach. Martin fell back against the parapet, laughing and trying to fend her off, and was just about to mount a counterattack when she stiffened and looked up at the spiral of smoke that rose from one of the Abbey chimneys.

"The fires! I forgot!"

***

Gonff woke in the dormitory at first light, shivering and wishing for his own bed and his wife's warm, sleeping presence next to him back at St. Ninnian's. He, Columbine, and Gonflet had moved back there the minute the first snow fell, electing to be in their own comfortable space over even the relatively reasonable privacy of the fourth-floor family quarters. But they still made the short walk up to the Abbey nearly every day to help with the chores and to see their friends. Gonff had spent the day before out in northern Mossflower with a group of other Redwallers, bringing food, medicine, and good cheer to a young mole couple, Daffodil and Urthclaw. Daffodil had borne their first daughter a week before, and while the little maid seemed to be thriving, Daffodil herself was healing slowly, and she and Urthclaw welcomed any and all company and advice. By the time the party had seen to their needs, made sure a neighbor was on paw for emergencies, and made the long trek back to Redwall, it was well past midnight, and the Mousethief had been glad to accept a cot in the dormitory for a few hours' sleep before he tried to head home down the icy path.

Now, freezing in the half-light of dawn, Gonff shivered into his clothes, stuffed his footpaws into his boots, and hurried out of the room in search of hot water. When he got downstairs to Cavern Hole, however, he found the banked fire flickering into ashes and the wood and kindling for the day's lighting still sitting in a neat pile off to one side. Gonff shook his head and clicked his tongue impatiently. What young dunderhead had slept through his or her turn to light the fire? He crossed to the kitchen door and glanced at the sign-up list posted on the wall.

"Let's see. What's today's date? Here we are. That would be...Rose. Well, forgetting her chores isn't like her at all. I suppose 'tis getting harder to get up in the mornings as it gets colder; we all struggle with that."

The Mousethief sighed and set to work with flint and tinder. Rose would just have to take over one of his chores later in the day, which was just as well because all that Gonff felt like doing was trudging home for a nap.

As he finished building up a blaze that would last all day with tending, he heard pawsteps behind him and looked around. Nell was just coming out of the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, turning in a puzzled circle in the middle of Cavern Hole. Gonff hurried toward him, and she raised a paw in greeting.
"Good morning, Gonff. Ah, there, I was just wondering who was supposed to light the fires; they aren't lit in the kitchen either and I was supposed to start heating up the breakfast. But you didn't have an easy day yesterday, so—"

He held up a paw to forestall her. "Actually, missie, 'twas Rose signed up this morning, not me, but there's no sign of her. Would you please go and wake her for me?"

"Certainly." The hogmaid hurried back upstairs to the dormitory, and Gonff set to work on the kitchen fire. She returned just as he was standing and brushing off his paws, but stepped into the kitchen wearing an even more puzzled expression. "She's not there. Her cot is made, and her shoes are gone."

Gonff frowned, the beginnings of worry beginning to scrabble at his stomach. "Wandering off isn't like her, either. I'd better wake Martin just in case something's happened."

But when he made his own trip back upstairs to the dormitory and looked along the rows of still-slumbering creatures to Martin's usual spot against one side, he saw that his friend's cot, too, was empty. He returned downstairs to find Nell, shaking his head and fastening his cloak.

"He’s not there, either. We’d better go look for them."

***

Martin and Rose slowed to a walk as they drew in sight of the Abbey doors and saw Gonff rounding the corner of the building.

"Good morning, Gonff!" Rose called, both unable and unwilling to keep the smile out of her voice. "How are you this fine morning?"

The Mousethief hurried forward. “There you are, you two. I was just starting to get worried. The fires aren’t lit—Rose, it’s not like you to leave chores unfinished, so I was worried Martin had found something wrong and you’d gone with him.”

Martin was grinning and shaking his head. “No, Gonff, everything’s fine. 'Tis my fault the fires didn't get lit, not Rose's. She wanted to stay back for a few minutes and do her job, but I insisted she come with me to meet Krar on the eastern walltop just at dawn."

"Krar? On the eastern walltop? What—"

"I've given up my sword, Gonff. Retired as Abbey Warrior; the Abbess and I discussed it a few weeks ago. I wanted Rose to be there for it."

"Oh, I see. Of course." The Mousethief paused, and it seemed to Rose that what Martin said suddenly hit him, and his facial expression did an abrupt turnaround. "You did? Matey, that's excellent! Congratulations!" He bounded forward to wring Martin's paw.

Rose’s smile still stretched from whiskertip to whiskertip, "Listen, Gonff. I don't apologize for going with Martin this morning—it was quite thrilling to watch his face when he handed the sword over—but I do apologize for making you do the chores I signed up for. May I take over one of yours instead?"

Gonff laughed. "Yes, that would be splendid. I'm supposed to be painting in the new dormitories this afternoon, but I don't know if I'm going to manage to stay awake that long. Would you—?"

"Of course! I haven't got much planned after lunch anyway." She had been planning to corner Martin somewhere privately, but Gonff was right: duty was duty, and there would be plenty of time later for leisure.

By the time the three mice got back into the Abbey, creatures had begun trickling downstairs to Cavern Hole and somebeast had brewed tea. As she hurried past the open kitchen doors, the mousemaid could see that Nell and the other breakfast helpers had just taken the first batches of hot rolls out of the oven. Rose joined the queue for food while Martin made his way over to the Abbess, where she was sitting in a corner with a mug of tea and a book on her lap. He crouched down by her chair and spoke to her for a few seconds. Rose, watching from a distance, saw a smile appear on the old mouse's face, which quickly grew into an even bigger one. Germaine grasped Martin's paw and shook it, beaming, and then found Rose with her gaze and beckoned her over. The mousemaid ducked out of the queue and hurried over to Martin and Germaine's side.

"Well, missie, Martin's told me everything and I am thrilled to be the first to offer you both my congratulations. Nobeast could ever deny him the right to retire after all he's done for us, and I'm so happy for you both on your betrothal. Do you want me to read the banns today?"

"Yes, please, ma'am. Then we have your permission?"

"Permission? Rose, you have my wholehearted enthusiasm! She flashed them both a grin. "Now, will one of you fine young creatures help me up? We ought to announce this now before any more rumors start flying about."

They hauled the Abbess out of her chair and supported her over to a low bench on one side of Cavern Hole, where Martin helped her stand up on the seat of the bench and then scrambled up next to her. Rose joined them, then cupped a paw around her mouth and called out, "Everybeast! Listen up!"

The general chatter of good mornings and plans for the day straggled to a yawning halt. A few creatures exchanged glances and smiled, but all were silent to wait for their Abbess's announcement.

The old mouse drew a deep breath and began, her thin, quavering voice nonetheless carrying to every corner of Cavern Hole. "Good morning. I have two announcements to make, both of which concern all Redwallers. If anybeast knows of a friend or family member who is not present, or who is still asleep, can somebeast please be sure to tell them?"

There was a murmur of general agreement, and she continued. "The first announcement is properly Martin's to make, so he will do it himself."

All eyes turned to Martin. Rose saw him take a deep breath, and she took his paw to steady him. He smiled at her, then spoke to the room at large: "It has been my honor and privilege to serve you as Abbey Warrior, but Mossflower is at peace and the time has come for me to retire. A few weeks ago the Abbess gave me permission to step down, and this morning I hid my sword where none may find it until Redwall has need of defense once more. From this day forth, I am a mouse of peace."

The Redwallers were quiet for a moment, and then the room exploded in cheers. Paws reached up to Martin, pulling him down from the bench and carrying him around on first one set of creatures' shoulders, then another. When they set him down, more paws rained down on his back and shoulders in praise, and Redwallers jumped up and down and wrung his paws, whooping and cheering. Rose felt tears rising to her eyes. She slung a paw around the Abbess's shoulders as the old mouse shook with delighted laughter.

Eventually, the noise settled once more. Martin clambered back up onto the bench, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. When the Abbess raised her paw for silence again, it descended immediately.

"The second announcement is for me to make."

The text of the betrothal banns was ancient and shared throughout many woodland tribes up and down the countryside. Rose, as a chieftain's daughter, knew it by heart as thoroughly as most tribal leaders did, and as the Abbess took her left paw and Martin's right, as a gasp and a few muffled squeals of delight arose from the assembled, as the silence became absolute, the mousemaid felt her heart beating rather quickly. When she was growing up she had always looked forward to her father doing this for her, and for a moment she felt a brief pang of regret that it wasn't. But the mouse by her side had to be Martin and no other, and she couldn't have both.

"Be it known to all," Abbess Germaine began, and Rose spoke along with her in her mind: Be it known to all

"That these two mice, Martin of Redwall and Laterose of Noonvale—"

have plighted their troth to one another in good faith and in love—

"and shall be wed with their own consent and mine after the passage of no less than a season and a day. Should—"

anybeast know of anything that prevents their union they must come forward within that time, but—

"barring that, I do hereby join their paws as they shall be bound—"

together with the cords of marriage on the day of their wedding. Let—

"all who approve of their union say 'Aye.'"

There was a second of shivering silence, and Rose felt the Abbess pull their two paws together. She shut her eyes, forced back the tears of joy that threatened to spill down her face, and grasped Martin's paw. The mousemaid felt as though she could jump from her bench and soar to the top of Cavern Hole from the lightness of joy spreading through her. As they raised their joined paws in the air, the silence broke into a deafening "AYE!" that shook the rafters. Then they were both being pulled down from their bench and carried through the crowd, hugged and twirled around and danced with and patted on the back, and there was no time for anything else but sinking into the outpouring of joy coming from her fellow Redwallers.

Chapter Text

Spring came early that year, bringing with it clear days full of sunshine or warm, gentle rains. The daffodils were already in bloom by the equinox, and the cherry trees burst into flower a week later. However, it rained hard that entire week, so Nell and Primrose were persuaded to put off their wedding for just a few days longer. They were married beneath a cloud of pink-and-white petals, which settled like snow on the shoulders of their robes and impaled themselves on their headspikes. The Abbess had given them the very last of the fine silk she’d brought from Loamhedge to use in the cords that bound their paws at the end of the ceremony. (“She didn’t say they were supposed to be for hers personally, but from the expression on her face when she handed them to us, I really think they were,” Primrose remarked to Columbine as they wove together the garlands that would decorate the high table.)

Martin and Rose had decided to wait until later in the spring, until the flowers that were Rose's namesake were in bloom. It was a clear, blue May Day morning when Rose woke in the ladies' dormitory to find herself surrounded by bouquets of flowers. She let her paw trail across the blooms in one of the vases and smiled.

"Rise and shine, Rose, it's going to be a big day!" Columbine came bustling in with a tray of breakfast. "We have porridge, toast, jam, tea, and dandelion fizz this morning, with a side of heaps of ribbon and piles of pollen. How does that sound?"

Rose laughed. "That sounds wonderful, Columbine! Let me wash and dress, and then I'll join you."

When she came back wearing an old tunic and carrying her towel over her shoulder, most of the Abbey’s female creatures and a number of the older Dibbuns were crowded into the dormitory for the traditional wedding flower crown-making, which, today, coincided with the traditional May Day flower crown-making. They all worked together to push the beds up against the wall and clear a large space in the middle of the floor, where they sat in a circle with Rose at the center, talking, laughing, and eating as they chose blossoms and ribbons to weave together into circlets. Rose took advantage of having first pick of the flowers to choose a magnificent set of blossoms: red roses for passion, bluebells for faithfulness, lilacs for first love. She snipped off thorns and wove stems together, then fastened on blue and green ribbons to trail down her back.

By the time they were all finished, the sun was high in the sky, the room smelled of greenery, the breakfast trays held only crumbs, and the dormitory floor was strewn with discarded leaves, stems, and pieces of ribbon. As they all cleaned up, Rose heard the others talking and laughing, but she herself was beginning to feel solemn.

"It's going to be all right." She looked up to find Columbine patting her shoulder. "I know exactly how you feel. Everybeast is nervous on their wedding day. Marriage isn’t easy, but knowing you and Martin, I truly do think you've made the right choice. I think you'll both be very happy."

Rose smiled at her friend. "Thank you, Columbine. I appreciate that. I think we made the right choice, too."

"Come on. We have to be outside soon. Let's get you into your robes."

***

Martin stood around the wallcorner from the orchard, listening to the murmur of voices beneath the trees. The day had become warm and bright, and if he shaded his eyes against the sun he could see Rose and Columbine as a pair of blue-and-green figures far away on the other side of the orchard. His vision blurred, and he shook his head and turned away.

"You'll be fine, matey." Gonff had come up behind him. "I know you weren’t able to attend my wedding because you were still recovering from your battle with Tsarmina, but I can't even begin to tell you how nervous I was! Dinny had to lead me to the arbor by the paw, practically! But if I could go back, I would hardly change a thing about any of the seasons since."

Martin nodded. "I know. But especially after all that nonsense last fall, it’s easy to be nervous. What if—" He trailed off.

Gonff smiled. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind, all right?"

"All right."

"Do you want to go through with this?"

"Great Seasons, yes!" The word tumbled out of his mouth before he had had time to think, and he felt the thrill of the truth of it in his very bones.

"That's what I thought. You'll be fine. For now, just enjoy today."

Martin smiled at his friend. "I think you're right. I think we'll be fine." I've never wanted something this much in my life. I know it'll be fine.

"Columbine gave me this to give to you." The Mousethief pulled from his pocket a small spray of blossoms—a red rose, a bluebell, and a lilac—and pinned it to his friend's green Redwall robe. "There. Handsome as can be." He tilted his head to one side, listening. "And there's the music. Are you ready to go?"

Martin took a deep breath and nodded. "Aye."

They soon fell into time with the music, flutes and fiddles playing sweetly in the orchard ahead. Martin glanced over to his left and saw Rose and Columbine making their way along the other side of the wall as well, and he walked a little straighter. This is real. We're really doing this. And then they were crossing in front of the gathered crowd, approaching one another and the white wooden arbor where the Abbess waited, seated comfortably in her chair and framed by winding roses. But Martin was suddenly glad for the previous day's rehearsal, because had eyes only for the mousemaid who was walking toward him.

She was dressed in a simple blue linen robe, unbelted and unadorned except for a smattering of fine green lace around her collar and cuffs and at the hem. A perfect circlet of flowers wound with blue and green ribbon sat between her ears, the ribbon trailing down her back and fluttering behind her in the slight breeze. Even from the distance of several paces, he could tell that the ribbons and lace somehow brought out every fleck of color in her hazel eyes. Martin suddenly found that he had forgotten to breathe, and he forced himself to inhale and exhale a few times as they walked closer and closer to the center of the arbor.

This is going to be like the night we met, isn't it? At least I haven't got any tea in my mouth this time. Great Seasons, she's beautiful.

Lost in such pleasant thoughts, it occurred to him that the music had stopped and so had he, and that he was standing there staring at Rose. She was smiling at him. He returned her smile, the grin suddenly coming easily to his face.

Abbess Germaine smiled at them both, then raised her voice to address the crowd in the orchard beyond the arbor. "Redwallers, friends, family, welcome. We have gathered this day to celebrate the union of two of our own, mice from far distant countries who came together in a time of war and have found in each other a chance for peace and for love. Laterose of Noonvale and Martin of Redwall were betrothed last autumn and have stood up today to declare themselves a family at—if I may say so—long last."

There was a rumble of laughter from the audience, but Martin barely heard it. Declare ourselves a family. Yes. He felt a lump rising to his throat.

"Gonff and Columbine of St. Ninnian's in Mossflower country, are you prepared to act as witnesses should this marriage ever be disputed?"

The other two mice, who stood on either side of their friends, nodded. It was an old formality, Martin reflected, since a wedding hadn't been disputed in living memory in Mossflower, Loamhedge, or Noonvale, but he thought it was a good one. To know that one had the support of one's friends on such a day was a priceless gift.

"Good. Martin, Rose, please take each other's paws. Left to left and right to right."

He reached out and felt her warm paws slide into his, then tighten briefly in encouragement. He returned the squeeze.

The Abbess spoke again. "Rose, do you come to be married of your own free will?"

"I do." Martin heard her voice shake, but she was smiling.

"Do you come with the intention to commit your life to this relationship, giving it the same priority and consideration you would give to any other close tie of kinship?"

"I do."

"Do you come with love and respect for Martin in your heart?"

"I do." Her voice wasn't shaking anymore.

Germaine turned to Martin. "Martin, do you come to be married of your own free will?"

"I do." Has her smile always been that dazzling? Am I just now noticing it?

"Do you come with the intention to commit your life to this relationship, giving it the same priority and consideration you would give to any other close tie of kinship?"

"I do." I have no other ties of kinship, but if I did she would already be as dear to me as any of them.

"Do you come with love and respect for Rose in your heart?"

"I do." Always.

"Then you must both speak your vows to one another before me and before these witnesses." Germaine lowered her voice. "Now, if either of you have forgotten any of it, I've got what you've written right here on this piece of parchment. Goodness knows you wouldn't be the first or the last to need it, so don't hesitate to ask."

Rose laughed, and Martin remembered the image that had sprung to mind the first time he had heard her laugh: like a summer breeze among bluebells. She closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and looked at him, and he stood a little taller to see the love that welled in their depths.

"I, Laterose of Noonvale, do hereby take you, Martin of Redwall, to be my wedded husband from now until we are parted by death. You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself, but I shall give you that which is mine to give: my respect, my fidelity, and above all my love, in good times as well as in bad. You cannot command me, for I am a free creature, but I shall be a shield for your back as you are to mine and I shall cherish and honor you and our union throughout the days of our life. From this day forth, you are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my body that we two might be one. I give you my spirit 'till our life shall be done." She stopped speaking and took a deep breath, smiling into his eyes.

A long moment passed. Martin's heart was pounding, and his mouth formed the first words, but no sound would come out. He thought the lump in his throat was blocking his vocal cords. Finally, he stammered,

"I, Martin of Redwall--" He stopped, swallowed, breathed, and tried again.

"I, Martin of Redwall, do hereby take you, Laterose of Noonvale, to be my--"

And then the tears came, pouring down his face and splashing on their intertwined paws. All of the pain and misery of the twenty seasons they had spent apart, and the staggering joy of the past three that had brought them together, mixed together in his heart and streamed out of his eyes. This is the happiest day of my life, and it shouldn't have taken this long to get around to it. I love her more than words can express.

A kerchief materialized beneath his nose, and he looked around to see Gonff holding it out and smiling at him. Martin fished one of his paws out of Rose's grasp to take it and wipe his face, chuckling a little in his embarrassment, then handed it back to his friend. Gonff spoke to the crowd at large.

"Knew that was going to happen. He always looks like he'd dearly love to cry at weddings. I figured he wouldn't be able to stop himself this time, considering."

A shout of laughter arose from the audience, and Martin found himself and Rose joining in.

"Are you ready now, Martin?" The Abbess's voice was gentle. "Would you like to repeat after me?"

"Yes, ma'am, I would." He took Rose's paw again, smiled at her, and took a deep breath.

"All right. Say: I, Martin of Redwall"

"I, Martin of Redwall"

"Do hereby take you, Laterose of Noonvale, to be my wedded wife,"

"Do hereby take you, Laterose of Noonvale, to be my—my wedded wife," The tears threatened again, but he pushed them aside.

"From now until we are parted by death."

"From now until we are parted by death." Martin paused for a fraction of a second, and then pushed on, his voice growing stronger with each word. "You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself, but I shall give you that which is mine to give: my respect, my fidelity, and above all my love, in good times as well as in bad. You cannot command me, for I am a free creature, but I shall be a shield for your back as you are to mine and I shall cherish and honor you and our union throughout the days of my life. From this day forth, you are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my body that we two might be one. I give you my spirit 'till our life shall be done."

The Abbess was smiling at him. Rose was smiling at him. Martin noticed that he had a huge grin plastered on his face, too. Germaine patted their joined paws, then reached behind her to a small table. She held two plaited silk cords coiled in her paws, one sky-blue and the other deep green, and she shook them out of their tangle and held them up.

"These two mice have pledged themselves to one another in good faith, from this day until they are parted by death. I ask of ye, when I have bound their paws and formalized their union, can we all pledge to accept and support them, individually and as a couple, for the rest of their lives?"

"AYE!" The shout was deafening.

"Then Martin, Laterose--" Germaine laid the two cords across their paws, and Martin felt a shiver travel up and down his spine as she caught the dangling ends and brought them up, around their wrists, crossing in the air, back down into a knot--"I declare you husband and wife."

A roar went up from the assembled, but Martin was barely conscious of it. All he knew was that he was leaning forward to meet Rose, tilting his head, and they were kissing, sweet and soft and almost innocent in a way that they hadn't kissed since that first night on the shore in front of Marshank.

She was grinning at him, and Martin didn't think he would ever stop smiling again. The Abbess shooed her paws at them. "Go on, you two."

They turned and held up their bound paws for all to see, and soon they were enveloped in a swarm of all their friends as the entire Abbey rushed forward to hug and congratulate them.

***

Gonff leaned back in his seat at the dinner table and closed his eyes. Twilight was falling, and Dinny had just led a band of moles off to light the May Day fires for couples and individuals to jump over for good luck in the coming seasons. The Mousethief heaved a sigh of satisfaction. His best friend was riotously happy, his best friend's brand-new wife was riotously happy, and the party was likely to be in full swing for hours yet. There was nothing like a wedding, Gonff reflected, and this spring had had two of them, which was even better.

Off to his right, the dance music screeched to a halt and voices bubbled up in laughter and confusion. He opened one eye and peered in that direction. Was it his turn to play again? No, it was—goodness, what was going on? He rose to investigate.

Several of the dancers seemed to be sprawled on the ground, paralyzed with laughter, while Martin and Rose got to their footpaws a few feet apart in the center of the chaos. They seemed, Gonff surmised, to have collided and sent everybeast else around them flying.

"But Martin, we don't come back to each other for four counts at the end of each phrase!"

"Yes, we most certainly do! I've been dancing this set for seasons and seasons, and I'm rather good at it! You were at Primrose and Nell's wedding; you must have danced—"

"No, they didn't do Strip the Willow, I'm sure of it. It was the, er, what do you call it, Flying Northlanders."

"If you say so, I believe you. The point is, I know that in Strip the Willow we come back to the center and turn each other for four counts, in addition to the two every half-measure!"

"No, we don't! I grew up dancing Strip the Willow in Noonvale and I'm rather good at it, too! We each work straight down the opposite sides of the set! We only come back to each other every half-measure, and for two counts only!"

Denno hauled himself to his footpaws from where he sat in a chair, laughing as he watched the attempt at dancing. "Calm down, ye two! There are two different versions! Mossflower does it one way and the northlands do it the other way. Martin’s family is from Mossflower, so that’s how he learned it despite having been raised in the north, and I’m sure Rose learned the northlands way."

"Oh, are there? Phew!" Martin wiped his forehead in mock relief. "It was either that, or I was losing my mind! Let's do the Noonvale version; I've had too much wine to count any more than I have to."

Gonff chuckled and shook his head, returning to his seat as the dancers laughed and re-formed the set, most of them attempting through their laughter to agree with Martin's observation, and music started up again.

Ten minutes later, Martin and Rose stumbled, laughing, up to the table and sat down in a heap next to Gonff. Rose's flower circlet, brown around the edges from the day's warmth, was askew over one ear, but she didn't seem to have noticed.

"Did you hear that, Gonff? Oh my, that was fun!" Rose grabbed her beaker, filled it with water from a nearby pitcher, and gulped several mouthfuls.

The Mousethief laughed. "I most certainly did! And I do agree that I like the Noonvale version better for this stage of the party, don't you?"

Martin nodded. "Definitely. We can save the other one for times that we get around to it earlier!" His gaze lingered on Rose as she set her beaker down and slumped back in her chair from exhaustion. Gonff saw his friend's paw drift to play with the ends of the blue silk cord Rose had tied around his waist when they unknotted their paws in order to eat. She was wearing Martin's green cord around her waist.

The Mousethief smiled and shook his head. He had never seen Martin this happy in all the seasons they'd known one another, and even though he hadn't known Rose for nearly as long, he at least knew enough about reading creatures' emotions to tell that she was probably also happier than she had ever been. He drew breath to tell them so.

But just then, Goody Stickle bustled up to the two mice. "Listen, you two. I think I owe you an apology for my conduct last fall. 'Twasn't any of my concern, and I should have trusted the two of you to know what was best for yourselves." She held out a paw to them.

Rose grasped her paw and shook it. "Thank you, Goody. I appreciate that. But you’ve learned and changed your ways. For my part, you’re forgiven."

"Aye." Martin shook her paw in turn. "And for mine, too. Thank you for your apology and for your changed actions; let’s put this behind us now."

"Ahoy, Gonff, matey, want to take a turn playing for the dancers?" Skipper called across from the musicians' area, brandishing his pennywhistle in one paw and a mug in the other.

"Be right there, Skip, matey!" Gonff grabbed his flute from the table and stood. "Are you two going to stick around for a little longer, or will you be heading out?"

They exchanged glances, smiled, and shrugged. "'Tisn't quite dark yet," Martin said, leaning back with his paws behind his head. "We have all the time in the world, don't you agree, Rose?"

Waving as he walked away and chuckling to himself, the Mousethief left them chatting and laughing at the dinner table and headed in the direction of the other musicians.