Triss

Lalalah deedly dee,

I’ve forgotten the next flamin’ word ...

Shogg chuckled. Keep singin’ like that, mate, an’ they’ll banish ye from the picnic for frightenin’ the babes.

Dragonflies hovered low over platelike water lilies, butterflies and gaily hued moths stood swaying on reed ends, bees droned to and fro with a leisurely hum. The water meadow was a haven of peace and tranquillity, fringed with bulrushes and backed by willows, splurge laurel and catkin-laden osiers. The Guosim shrews lashed their log-boats to the small vessel, forming an island in the shallows that was hidden by reeds and treeshade. Food hampers and picnic baskets were brought out, lots of them.

Scarum could scarcely restrain himself. Oh corks, I say, these shrew chaps don’t believe in stintin’ themselves, do they, wot? Allow me to help you with that heavy grub container, marm. Hoho, your little ones look fine and chubbyÑI expect you feed’em jolly well!

He flinched as the hefty paw of Sagax drew him to one side. The young badger’s eyes had a no-nonsense look about them. Listen carefully to what I say, Scarum. If I catch you hogging food, or offending these good shrews, I’ll personally deal with you. No excuses this timeÑput one paw wrong and you’re on your own. Triss, Kroova, Shogg and myself will personally disown you, and our friendship will be ended. Now, did you hear me? Have I made myself clear?

Scarum twisted neatly out of the badger’s grasp. He appeared quite indignant. Me, are you talkin’ about me, old chap? Tut, pish an’

fiddlesticks, how you can say such things is beyond belief. You mind your own manners, sah!

He stalked regally off to join the feast. Triss murmured to Sagax, Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.

The jollity, singing, dancing, drinking and feasting in the sunlit water meadow made Triss happy, but wistful. Mimsy, the kind shrew wife who had invited them, passed the squirrelmaid a leek-and-turnip pasty.

Eat up, m’dearie, this ain’t no day for mopin’ about. What ails ye, little sad face? Have some raspberry fizz!

Triss accepted her offer, forcing a smile. Are your creatures always as happy as this, Mimsy?

The shrew chuckled. Only when we’ve got nothin’ t’be sad aboutÑwe’ve got our ups an’ downs, y’know. I can sense that you’ve not led a carefree an’ happy life, Triss, but try an’ be like us. When ye get the good times, don’t stop to mope about the bad’uns. Enjoy yoreself while ye can.

Scarum lifted his nose out of a high-piled plate to agree, Well said, marm, that’s my motto too, wot. Even though I was reared poorly, often beaten an’ starved constantly. Crusts, roots an’ springwater, that’s what I was jolly well brought up on. Pale, thin little chap, that was me. Oof!

Sagax, who had given the hare a playful buffet on the back/ laughed heartily. Plus being a terrible fibber, a great fat scoffbag, and the biggest bounder at Salamandastron. If your mum and dad could hear you talking like that! Pay no attention to the flopeared fraud, marm.

Mimsy stroked Scarum’s paw. Let him be. I like a beast who can tell a good fibÑthis hare is fun t’be with. Come on now, Scarum, I’m sure you can manage some damson crumble an’ cream?

From behind the backs of Triss and Mimsy, the incorrigible hare made a face at Sagax, as he allowed himself to be pampered. Seasons bless you, marm, I’ve never tasted damson crumble an’ cream in m’life. I’ve watched Sagax stuffin’ it down many a time, though. He’s the son of a mountain Lord, y’see, while I’m just a lowly peasant type. I say, that tart looks rather nice, wot!

Mimsy carved off a large slice. Oh, you poor beast, here, try some, an’ have some more raspberry fizz.

Sagax looked on aghast as Mimsy and Triss plied Scarum with delicacies from every hamper. The gluttonous hare accepted everything coyly.

Oh, I wonder if I’ll be able to eat a portion that big? I’m only used to nibblin’, y’know, but thank y’marm. I’ll certainly try my best t’get through it, wot.

Kroova flicked an apple pip at the young badger. You should see yore face, matey!

32

Plugg Firetail awoke in the late evening and found himself lying by a fire, covered in an old blanket. Scummy and Grubbage hovered about, watching him anxiously.

Take it easy, Cap’n, don’t try to sit up, you been wounded.

Plugg lay still, listening to them relate what had taken place when the jollyboat was rammed by a stake. He put a paw to his lower back and grimaced. It’urts like the blazes, mates, but I’ll be shipshape soon. No real damage done, eh? He glared quizzically at the pair as they kept silent. Wot? Tell yore cap’n, wot’s up, am I bad’urted?

Scummy’s paw scuffed the grass awkwardly as he explained. That sharp cob o’ wood, Cap’n, it stuck deep in yore, botÑer,’indquarters. We managed t’get it out, me’n Grubbage....

Plugg was fast losing patience. He gritted at them. Stop picklepawin’

round an’ tell me wot’s wrong!

They both moved out of paw range. Grubbage stammered, You ain’t got no tail, Cap’n, it sorta fell off.

The Freebooter’s ugly face squinched up in horror. Me tail? Fell off?

Where is it?

Scummy held up the severed tail. I got it, Cap’n.

The fox covered his face and groaned in despair. Plugg’s tail had been his proudest possession. He had been born silver-furred, unlike other foxes. However, his tail was a beautiful goldy-red-furred one. This had given rise to his second name, Firetail. Often as a young Freebooter Plugg would wash his tail each day, carefully shampooing it with soapwort and almond oil. On going into battle, he had always ordered a crewbeast to run behind, holding a lantern close to display the shine and sheen of that tail. But now the feared Freebooting Captain, Plugg Firetail, had not even a stump of this former glory. Swiftly he snatched the tail from Scummy, looking about furtively.

Who else knows I’ve lost me tail, eh?

Nobeast, Cap’n, we never told any of’em!

Aye, on me oath, Cap’n, only us knows, an’ you, too, o’ course!

Plugg’s eyes danced shiftily as he pondered a solution. Get sticky stuff.

Grubbage leaned forward, squinting. Why d’ye want skilly’n’duff, Cap’n, are ye’ungry?

The fox swatted him with the tail. You shurrup! Scummy, get me some sticky stuff, any kind, but make it good’n’sticky,’asten now!

He stuffed the tail under his blanket as Kurda approached. She eyed him up and down in disappointment. So, you don’t be dead, yarr. Vot a pity, I vas hoping der shtake vould haff slayed you.

Plugg spat, but missed her. So sorry not to please yer, but’ere I am, fit’n’well, yore’igh royalness.

Kurda shrugged. Never mind, der vound might get poisoned and kill you, den I be very glad, yarr.

Plugg bared his crooked teeth at the Pure Ferret. If’n it does, I’ll come back an’ haunt yew, missie!

She stalked off, sniggering to herself.

Scummy returned with a beaker that contained a few lumps of pine resin.

He placed it on the fire. This should do the trick, Cap’n. I’ll’ave ye lookin’ good as new in a tick. Grubbage, you sit on the Cap’n anold’im still. This is goin’ to’urt, Cap’n,’old tight!

Yeeeeguuurrr! BHsterin’ barnacles, that stuff burns. Pour some in the wound, too, mate, that’ll keep it clean. 1 ain’t about t’die, just ter please that snotty liddle madam. Well,’ow does it look, Grubbage? Tell the truth now!

Looks pretty as a summer morn covered wid roses, Cap’n.

The Freebooter stood up, wincing. Never mind no summer morn wid roses, long as it looks like my tail, in its proper place, too. Well, does it?

Both crewbeasts nodded furiously. Oh, it do, Cap’n, it do!

Before they could blink, Plugg had them both by their noses. His claws sunk in ruthlessly. Now lissen, buckoes, one word of this gets out an’

I’ll be a laughin’stock. So, you keeps yore gobs buttoned tight, or I’ll skin ye both alive an’ make a cloak of yore’ides. Do yew’ear me?

Say ÔAye aye, Cap’n’ if’n ye do.

Tears flooding their eyes, both crewbeasts danced tip-pawed on the spot as they obeyed the command.

Hi hi, Capin, uth heerth yith. Yeeeeek!

Plugg limped a few stepsÑthe tail held firm. He wheeled on Scummy and Grubbage. From now on, wherever 1 goes, you two follow right be’ind me. Everywhere! Keep yore eyes on me tail an’ fix it if’n it slips, afore anybeast can see. Aye aye, mates, look who’s sneakin’ into camp,’tis the slavecatcher.

Riggan padded noiselessly down the bank to where Kurda and Vorto were sitting at their own fire, apart from the Ratguards and crewbeasts.

Plugg and his two followers trailed in her wake, Kurda stared haughtily at the three Freebooters, but they did not move. Leaning on his battle-axe, Plugg sneered back at her.

We knew yore spy sneaked out o’camp. Well, go on, Riggan, make yore report to liddle miss pinky eyes.

Kurda could see there was no fooling the fox. She nodded for Riggan to go ahead with what she had learned. Firelight glinted off the tracker’s keen eyes as she spoke. 1 picked up the slaves’ trail, marm, further upstream. They stopped there awhile, then joined up wid some shrews. Nobeast spotted meÑI kept ‘idden. I tracked them up t’the far side o’ that big water meadow, where we lost the voles. Fools! They was all singin’ an’ dancin’ an’ feastin’. So I got as close up to ‘em as I could an’ lissened. The stripedog said they was bound fer a place called Red-wall Abbey, an’ the leader of the shrews said ‘e knowed where it was. Said ‘e’d take ‘em there. Tomorrow morn at dawn light they’re settin’ off. Four logboats an’ yore vessel.

Plugg interrupted maliciously, My boat ye mean, ratface. Haharr, Redwall Abbey, I’ve ‘eard grand tales about that place. Tis a treasure

‘ouse, ripe fer the pluckin’. We’d best break camp if’n we’re goin’

to follow ‘em.

Kurda smiled thinly. You injured, fox, not able to keep up mitt us, yarr.

The Freebooter winked roguishly. Don’t fret yore pretty ‘ead about me, I’ll be right up front with ye. An’ if’n I finds the goin’ a bit ‘ard, well, I’ll lean on yore fat brother’s ‘ead an’ use ‘im fer a crutch.

Hahaharrr!

Kurda ignored the insulting fox. Rising from her fire, she drew her sabre and pointed upriver. Ve march now, to der Abbey of Redvall!

Plugg set off at her side, but felt himself pulled back by Grubbage.

He turned irately on the fat searat. Will ye stop ruggin’ at me, wot is it?

Grubbage held the tail up. This just fell off, Cap’n, must’ve been the heat from that fire, he whispered.

With a swift motion, Plugg grabbed the tail and punched Grubbage on the nose. Why don’t ye shout a bit louder an’ let the ‘ole woodlands know, bigmouth!

Running stooped, Scummy panted as he fixed Plugg’s tail back in place, with the fox marching forward boldly.

Scummy muttered to Grubbage, I ‘ope this Redwall place ain’t too far!

Grubbage nodded agreement. Aye, mebbe we shoulda used tar!

The Abbot had finished his oft-interrupted breakfast in the orchard and was looking for means of escape from the boisterous horde of Dibbuns.

Wherever he moved there seemed to be one or other of the Abbeybabes, clinging to his robe, wanting to know the answer to a thousand and one unreasonable questions.

Friar Gooch came to his rescue, fending off the little ones. As he shepherded the Abbot from the orchard, the squirrel cook pointed with his ladle at the midwest wall-steps and remarked, Seems fbe a deal of disturbance over there, Father. Did ye hear young Churk whoopin’? Great seasons, I thought we were under some sort of attack!

Nodding absentmindedly, the Abbot replied, I was certainly under attack from those Dibbuns. D’you know why a gooseberry has its pips inside and a strawberry has pips on the outside?

The good Friar looked nonplussed. Never thought of it, really.

Shaking his head, the Father Abbot chuckled. Neither did I, until molebabe Roobil asked me. Right, let’s go and see what all the kerfuffle is about at the wallsteps. Nothing as difficult as Roobil’s problem, I hope.

Skipper, Mokug, Crikulus and Malbun waved and cried out to them across the lawn, Come and see, Churk has found the solution!

Churk waited until Friar and Abbot were seated on the sunwarmed sandstone steps. Skipper puffed out his chest and waved his rudder proudly When ye come t’think of all the scholars within our walls, an’ who was it solved the mystery o’ the scroll an’ pawring? Haharr, none other than me own pretty niece Churk. Let me tell ye, Father, an’ you, Friar, this ottermaid ‘as got an ‘ead on ‘er shoulders,ten, nay, twenny seasons beyond’er age. Ain’t that right, beauty? We’ll find that entrance now, sure enough!

Churk lowered her eyes politely. Uncle Skip, will ye stop embarrassin’

me in front o’ these goodbeasts an’ let me speak for meself?

The otter Chieftain patted her paw. Sorry, missy, you tell’em all about yore discoveryÑme lips are sealed!

Churk indicated the symbol on the pawring. The leaf is five times three, that’s the key to it all. She opened the scroll, pointing to the two bottom lines set apart from the rest. I wondered why this bit was written separate, so I counted the number of symbols on the line: Twenty-six, and each one is different. Now, what’s five times three, Father?

An immediate answer came from the Abbot. Fifteen, why?

Churk smiled secretively. Simple, really. Count along these signs, sir, an’ stop at the fifteenth one.

Moving his paw along the parchment, the Abbot counted. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Why, it’s the leaf!

Churk asked her next question. What’s the fifteenth letter of the alphabet, Crikulus, sir?

The shrew did a quick count on his paws. Letter O is.

Churk spread her paws triumphantly. Right! Don’t ye see, those twenty-six signs at the bottom are an alphabet, from A to Z!

Malbun seized the ottermaid and planted a resounding kiss on her cheek.

You, Churk, are a positive wonder!

Crikulus gnawed on his straggly whisker ends. Hmph! I stared at that scroll for long enough, but it didn’t occur to me that it might be an alphabet. Well done, miss!

Mokug began wriggling and rubbing his paws. At last, I’ll know wot it all means. Go on, Churk, put it all together an’ read us the message!

Friar Gooch straightened his apron decisively. This calls for somethin’

special. You bide here an’ do your message solvin’. I’ll nip off t’the kitchens an’ make us a celebration mid-mornin’ snack!

Mokug and Skipper were at his side in a flash. We’ll come with ye, Friar!

Churk looked up from her charcoal stick and birch-bark writing materials.

Why don’t ye all go. Leave Crikulus with me, we’ll get more done with a bit o’ peace’n’quiet.

Malbun leaped from the third wallstep and performed a small hopskip, quite out of character for one of her seasons and dignity. She led them off, striking up an old Abbey song:

When the sun sinks in the west, Sweet the nightingales do call, There’s noplace I love best, Like the Abbey of Redwall... Redwall!

When the moon does beam in splendour,

See the dew upon the lawn,

Mirror-bright twinkling starlight,

Waiting for the golden dawn.

No foebeast will I fear,

Me and all my good friends here,

Who live within our gates in peace,

For we hold our freedom dear,

And we’ve earned the right to sing,

As long as our Abbey bells may ring ... Redwall!

So let others quake and weep

As a stormy night will fall,

While at ease our Dibbuns sleep,

Safe within our Redwall... Redwall!

It was actually closer to lunch than mid-morning when the party returned from the Abbey kitchens. Pushing a laden trolley, they sang the marching song once more as they returned across the lawn.

Skipper bounded up the steps confidently. Ahoy there, charmin’ niece, did ye solve it all?

Crikulus answered, Oh, we’ve translated the message right enough, but one puzzle always brings another in its wake.

Friar Gooch whipped the cover off the trolley. Will this help t’feed your brains, then?

Churk grinned from ear to ear. Ooh, thank ye, I’m sure it will. Hazelnut wafers, candied chestnut cake, fruit salad with meadowcream, redcurrant cordial an’ hot dandelion an’ mint tea. I can feel my brain clickin’

away at the sight of it. But come ‘n’ see wot we’ve done so far.

Between them, Churk and Crikulus had set it all out on the birchbark parchment, neat and clear:

ABCDEFGHIJKLM

Af

NOPQRSTUVWXYZ

Churk and Crikulus took their friends’ congratulations calmly, like true scholars. Ever practical, the ottermaid sat eating her lunch, but like all true scholars, her mind was still probing.

What’s it all supposed to mean? Tis a very strange rhyme/’

Mokug helped himself to some candied chestnut cake. That’s the way to Brockhall, miss, the secret entrance. Ye could get in by that way without the serpents knowin’.

Malbun shuddered. I wouldn’t go inside that place for anything, knowin’

those dreadful creatures could be lurking in wait for me. Ugh! All those poison fangs an’ evil eyes!

Crikulus agreed with her. Nor me, 1 don’t care what we can add to our archives by going down into Brockhall!

Pouring himself some mint tea, the Abbot observed, One thing is clear, friends. Nobeast will be going down there until the message in the poem is solved. Shall we get down to it? Let us look at the first line: ÔMidday sun shines bright for you.’ Can anybeast explain what that’s supposed to mean?

Skipper pursed his lips thoughtfully. Sounds t’me like the midday sun is shinin’ for wotever beast is searchin’. But midday sun shines on us all, not just the searcher. Huh, it beats me.

But it’s not beaten me. Malbun put aside the hazelnut wafer she was nibbling. I think it means that the search must take place at midday.

The line is telling us exactly what time to go searchingÑnot dawn, or eventide, but midday.

Placing his paw on the second line, the Abbot agreed. I believe you’re right, friend. Tell me, then, what about this: Twixt leaning ash and poison gold’?

Crikulus snorted. Ash doesn’t lean. To me the word ash means a heap of black and grey dust from a fire. Right?

Nay, sir, it prob’ly means some ole ash tree.

Churk turned to Mokug, who had made the remark. That’s good plain thinkin’. You lived a long time in the woodlands, mate, d’ye know of such a tree, a leanin’ ash?

The golden hamster shrugged. I don’t know the names o’ trees, sorry, miss. Some of’em got different-shaped leaves an’ rough or smooth bark.

Big’uns an’ liddle’uns, they’re all the same to Mokug, just trees.

Friar Gooch began loading empty platters onto his trolley. Sure enough,’tis all a riddle. I wouldn’t even know where to begin findin’

out what’poison gold’ means.

Churk volunteered a suggestion. It looks like we’re stuck for answers.

Why don’t ye all go about yore business an’ leave me to try an’ sort it out.

Skipper had something to add. Aye, that’s good advice. I’ll go an’ get Log a Log an’ some o’ those Guosim shrews. We’ll take young Rumbol, too. Mokug, yore comin’ with us, mate. We’ll take a walk north, up the path. Per’aps if’n we point out some trees an’ tell ye their names, y’might recognise wot an ash tree looks like. We’ll stick to the path, just in case those adders are prowlin’ the woods.

33

A small flotilla wound its way upstream: the stolen craft and four shrew logboats. Mimsy and her husband Gulif, who were the unofficial leaders of the shrew party, sat in the prow of the little ship with Triss and Sagax. Scarum, who had become the model of politeness and decorum because of the amounts of food their hosts were feeding him, wandered up, munching on a honey and almond turnover.

Jolly decent types, these chaps. I say, marm, 1 hope we aren’t puttin’

you out of your way by havin’ you lead us to Redwall.

Mimsy peered ahead through the sunny green light created by overhanging trees. Bless ye, no, we was plannin’ on goin’ to the Abbey in the next day or two. I’ve got a feelin’ we should meet up with our Chieftain, Log a Log Groo. Him an’ some Guosim were sailin’ the streams not far from Redwall. They’d be sure to call in an’ visit awhile.

Triss sat back, savouring the pleasant morning on the rippling water with tree foliage as a canopy. This is nice. I could go along like this forever.

Gulif sat down beside her. I knows the feelin’, miss, but the ford that crosses the north path’ll be a-comin’ up soon. Won’t be usin’ the boats no more, thenÑwe’ll stow’em away an’ walk south down the path to Redwall.

The squirrelmaid trailed her paw in the cool streamwa-ter. Pity, I was really getting to enjoy the waterway.

Mimsy spoke up helpfully. Well, p’raps we could tie up just before the ford an’ take lunch there, whilst we wait for the backscouts to catch up.

Scarum interrupted. Beg pardon, marm, but what are backscouts?

Gulif pointed downstream, I sent four of’em to check on those vermin ye said were trailin’ ye. It ain’t good sense to leave things to chance.

Mimsy’s right, we’ll moor up short o’ the ford an’ wait for’em. Don’t suppose they’ll’ave much to report, I took all the twists an’ turns to shake any followers off’n our wake,

It was mid-afternoon by the time they moored the vessels beside a mossy bank. Kroova and Shogg hauled them into a small inlet and hid them beneath shrubbery and boughs.

Sagax watched the Guosim cooks prepare a meal. Is there any way we can lend a paw, marm?

Mimsy gave him a long, studious look. Wot’s up? Ain’t our cookin’ good enough for ye?

Scarum drew the young badger to one side and lectured him. My good chap, keep y’self to y’self, wot. We don’t want to antagonise these good creatures. So mind your manners!

Sagax pulled a meaningful face at Kroova. Listen to the pot calling the kettle black!

Triss amused the little shrews by singing them a song she had made up.

They sat tapping their paws as they listened to the jolly air.

Bushes and treetops drifting by,

Fish gliding’neath our keel,

Soft and gentle breezes sigh,

‘Tis like a dream made real.

Whirl and gurgle, eddy and flow,

Past carp and dace and bream,

Dragonflies, mayflies, swooping low,

As we sail upon the stream.

Cuckoos call out from the trees,

Bees bumble busily by,

Telling of golden days like these,

When the sun smiles from the sky.

Some will pole and others row,

Let each one do their best,

Let the waters flow by slow,

Put up your paws and rest.

Blue smoke wafted through the trees. Kroova and Shogg sat on the bankside, dabbling their paws in the shallows. Sagax and Gulif checked that the boats were well concealed. Scarum had wheedled his way into a new position. Mimsy and the Guosim cooks had actually appointed him to serve the meal. Triss covered her mouth, turning aside to stifle her merriment at the sight of him. Scarum had bound a turban about his ears to stop them from flopping into the food. Clad in a flowery apron, he wielded a ladle officiously.

Attention in the ranks, chaps, lunch is served. Line up here in a jolly orderly manner. No nonsense now, I’m your disher-upper, so watch your behaviour, wot!

When Triss had been served with a delicious bowl of something the shrews called Streambank Stew, she took her beaker of cider and a small batch loaf of shrewbread. She sat between Kroova and Shogg. All three giggled helplessly as they watched Scarum chiding Sagax.

Good grief, sah, look at those paws. Traid I can’t serve you until you’ve washed’em in the stream. Move along, please, don’t stand there glarin’

at me like that. Next!

It was in the midst of all this that Gulif suddenly held up his paws for silence.

Hist! Sounds like our backtrackers returnin’, but they’re comin’ this way runnin’ like madbeasts. Break camp, Guosim, git the riddle’uns ready to leave fast!

The fire was quickly doused. Triss and her companions helped to round up the shrewbabes. There had originally been four backtrackers, but only two staggered into camp, one with a vicious spearwound in his paw.

Sagax threw a cloth around the injury, binding it speedily as the shrew gasped.

Git movin’ sharpish, Gulif, there’s a horde o’ vermin on our track, armed f the teeth an’ out fer blood. They slew Cadro an’ Elbun, but we got away. They’re ‘ard on our trail, mate, there ain’t time to ‘ang about!

Gulif drew his rapier as he heard the vermin crashing through the undergrowth downstream. The tough little Guosim leader growled out orders. Mimsy, Triss, get the old ‘uns an’ the babes goin’, make for the ford an’ head south down the path. Sagax, you two streamdogs an’

the rest o’ ye, we’ll form a rearguard an’ follow. Git goin’ now, quick!

Kurda, Vorto and Riggan raced ahead of the rest, while Freebooters and Ratguards thundered along both sides of the bank. Supported by Prince Bladd and Slitfang, Plugg Firetail stumped along not far behind.

Haharr, we’ll lay ‘em by the tails this time, buckoes!

Riggan put on a spurt, calling back to Kurda, I think I caught sight of ‘em, up ahead. There’s smoke an’ steam, though I don’t see no boats!

Kurda slashed at willow fronds with her sabre. Never mind der boats, ve find dem later. Get der slaves!

Vorto grinned triumphantly as they passed through the camp. Some o’

those ashes are still smolderin’Ñthey broke camp in a hurry. We’ll soon catch up with’em!

Mokug halted on the path, pointing out a tree. Is that’un an ash, Skip?

Skipper shook his head patiently. No, mate, that’s a rowan. The leaves look the same, but the ash is stouter an’ it don’t’ave red berries like the rowan tree. Log, old mate, will ye find an ash an’ point it out to’im?

However, Log a Log’s interest in trees had suddenly waned. Detaching himself from his score of Guosim, he cocked his head on one side, drawing his rapier. Cut the cackle a moment, will ye, I can’ear somethin’!

The young otter Rumbol walked ahead a few paces. Yore right, somebeast’s a-comin’ this way in an’urry!

Triss and the shrews appeared around a bend.

Log a Log dashed toward them. Mimsy, wot’s the rush, marm. Where’s old Gulif?

As he spoke, the rest of the party ran into view. Gulif sighted the Guosim Chieftain and roared out the shrew war cry: Logalogalogalogaloooooog!

Sagax boomed out a warning as they neared the Red-wallers. Vermin chasing us, a great load of’em!

Skipper had been staring strangely at Triss, but he recovered and took swift charge of the situation. Git yore party down t’the Abbey, marm, tell the Abbot to hold the gate’til we arrive. The rest of us, form up on the path’ere, slings an’ javelins. Look out, they’re comin’, I see the scum!

The vermin were hard on the heels of their quarry as they rounded the bend, with Kurda waving her sabre and screeching, Ve haff dem, kill, kill!

She dropped swiftly back as an unexpected volley of slingstones hit her front ranks. Plugg passed her, brandishing his huge battle-axe.

He laughed wildly.

Haharr, me beauty, ye ain’t in yore daddy’s castle now. We’ll show ye’ow Freebooters gets the job done. Chaaaarge!

Much to Skipper’s surprise, Scarum picked up a fallen spear and saluted smartly. Salamandastron trained hare, sah, ready for duty, stand aside if ye please. Javelin throwers to either side of this path! Pay attention in the ranks there! Shrews an’ slingers, form up across the path in three ranks, look lively. That’s the ticket, chaps. First slingin’ rank, throw an’ drop back two ranks. We’ll give ‘em blood’n’vinegar, me buckoes!

Eulaliiiiiiaaaa! Second rank, throw an’ drop back two ranks, make every stone count, steady the buffs an’ hammer ‘em!

Amazingly, the tactic worked. Hail after hail of speedily hurled stones halted the vermin charge.

Plugg wrung his paws as a big pebble reverberated against the blade of his axe. Press forward, ye spineless jellyfish, we outnumber ‘em ten to one. Drop t’the sides o’ the path an’ circle ‘em!

Skipper and Log a Log had their swords and javelins on either side of the path. The Guosim Chieftain murmured to his shrews, This ain’t no fight t’the deathÑwe only need to slow ‘em down until we can get to Redwall. Don’t let anybeast try to sneak by an’ surround us, or we’ll be cut off!

Down the path the battle ensued, with Kurda and Plugg urging their creatures on. Both the Princess and the silver fox were enraged that their force could make no headway against the efficiently organised band. Vorto dashed recklessly forward, but was repulsed by Log a Log skilfully wielding his rapier. Nursing a slashed cheek, the Ratguard Captain bumped into Kurda.

Princess, ‘ow can they be retreatin’ an’ beatin’ us at the same time?

It ain’t right!

Kurda pushed by him and slew a shrew with a sabre thrust. See, dey die, same as any odder beast. You turn back an’ I slay you, too. Plugg, vere you goin’? Come back, coward!

Leaning heavily on a cringing Prince Bladd, the Freebooter stumped off into the tree shelter, calling back to Kurda, 1 ain’t goin’ up agin that... Look!

They had fought almost up to the ramparts of Redwall Abbey. The battlements were thronged with young andold, flinging anything they could lay their paws upon. Abbot Apodemus stood out on the path, hurrying the remainder of the party inside.

Straight in, friends, don’t dawdle. You put up a brave fight there, come on in.

He stood calmly until the last one, Skipper, was safe inside. Only then did Father Abbot deign to retreat. Close the gates, Crikulus. Gooch, you and I will see to those extra bars. Get the gate locked safe and tight!

Late evening faded to night over the vast acres of Moss-flower Wood.

Somewhere in the undergrowth, not far from the Abbey, a mistle thrush stirred. The bird’s head moved slowly, taking in the view all around.

It skipped from cover and winged its way swiftly up into the clean night air, leaving behind it the terrifying odour of cloying evil.

Zassaliss the adder had taken his fill of a Ratguard carcass. Now Harssacss and Sesstra were dealing with the remains. Sarengo’s crown slid back slightly on the giant adder’s head as he watched the thrush slip off. Butting his brother and sister aside, Zassaliss leaned his lower jaw on the broken Ratguard spear, letting his forked tongue slither caressingly over it.

Lotsss of new beastsss crossssing our pathsss!

Sesstra lifted her head from the grisly meal. Yesss, lotsss!

The three bodies of the snakes wriggled pleasurably. Beyond where the mace of Sarengo remained buried in their flesh, the dead serpent tails lay still, bound together and exuding their rotten odor.

34

Forty creatures in all were guarding the battlements, ten to each wall.

Below, moles trundled trolleys of food from the kitchens, out to where the Redwallers were gathered on the lawn and gatehouse steps. Stories had been related, introductions made and old friends reunited. Memm Flackery had put all the Dibbuns up to bed and found berths for the new arrivals. She shook Scarum’s paw.

Heard good things about you, young buck, wot. Served at Salamandastron m’self in the young seasons, y’know. Hightor still Lord there, is he?

Sagax took his nose out of an October Ale beaker. Aye, marm, I’m his son.

She refilled the beaker for him. Hmm, stern old stick, ain’t he? I liked your mother, though. Lady Merola an’ I were good chums. Before you came along, of course.

Triss bore Skipper’s penetrating stare for as long as she could. Finally she felt she had to speak. Excuse me, sir, but do you know me from someplace?

The big otter Chieftain nodded. Everything in his dreams was filtering slowly back to him. Aye, Triss, I think we’ave met afore. Come an’ take a walk with me. Father Abbot, I’d like ye to come as well.

Registering only slight surprise, the Abbot rose from the steps and went with them.

Skipper took them both into Great Hall. Once inside, he spoke softly to the squirrelmaid. Take a stroll around, Triss, see if’n ye recognise anythin’.

The Abbot was mystified. What’s this all about?

Skipper placed a paw around the shoulders of the old mouse. Hush now, Father, let’s just watch the maid.

Triss stood rigid in front of the tapestry, gazing up at the likeness of Martin the Warrior. Moving in a dreamlike trance, she mounted the ladder that Skipper had placed there earlier. Her eyes were riveted on the sword that hung over the tapestry. She lifted it from its retaining pins and climbed back down. Not once did her eyes leave the fabled blade.

Welcome to Redwall Abbey, Trisscar Swordmaid! Skipper placed his paw on her. Oh aye, I know ye, all right. Yore the stuff my dreams’ve been made of, though I didn’t realise that’til just now. Martin the Warrior showed you to me while I slept. It’s all coming back to me.

The Abbot was astounded. You dreamed of this squirrelmaid? Martin showed her to you? How can this be?

Skipper squeezed Triss’s paw gently. Father,’tis all a puzzle t’me as’tis to you. But she was guided to Redwall by MartinÑwho are we to question’im?

The Abbot shrugged. Who, indeed. You look as if you were born to hold that blade, miss; can you use it?

Triss saw her own reflection in the bright steel as she spoke. I am the daughter of Rocc Arrem. Nobeast in all the Northlands could cross swords with him. Though I was a slave, I was brought up around swords.

But this blade, this is different. I know it like I know my own right paw.

Satisfied, the Abbot sized Triss up and down, smiling. Then you must wear it. Redwall is fortunate to find one such as you in time of danger, Trisscar.

The squirrelmaid undid her waist belt and buckled it across her back from left shoulder to right waist, then thrust the sword through, so it hung over her back. If you please, Father Abbot, I prefer to be called Triss.

They watched her go back outside to join the others. The Abbot transferred his gaze to Martin on the tapestry. Sir, I’ll wager you used to wear the sword in the same manner. Thank you for sending her to us.

Since the vermin had entered the woodlands, Kurda seemed a touch more affable toward Plugg. Her archers had brought down a fine woodpigeon, and she beckoned him to join her at the fire.

So, tell me, you haff conquered big stone places like diss?

The Freebooter sat down gingerly, having first assured himself that his tail was still hanging intact. The bigger they are, the richer they be, missy. If’n all the tales o’ booty an’ loot inside there are only

‘arf true, ye can bet yore white ‘ide old Plugg’ll find a way to get at it. Aye, on me affidavit I will.

Kurda stared into the flames. If diss be true, you can haff der booty.

I’ll take dose slavebeasts, yarr.

Grubbage and Scummy lingered behind their captain, keeping an eye on the unfortunate tail. Plugg sniffed at the bird cooking on a spit over the fire.

Is that bird fresh killed?

Kurda gave it a turn with her sabre point. Yarr, fresh diss very night.

Vy you ask?

The silver fox sniffed the air uneasily, then noticed his two crewbeasts lurking in the background. Ahoy, Scummy, d’ye reckon yew could find a stream ‘ere-abouts?

The stoat touched his ear dutifully. Aye, Cap’n, I could.

Plugg wrinkled his nose distastefully. Then take Grubbage with ye, an’

when yer come across the stream ye can chuck each other in an’ scrub yoreselves ‘til dawn. Rub some fresh mint on yoreselves, too.

The two vermin plodded obediently off, Grubbage waggling a paw in his ear, or what was left of it. Why’ve we got to put fresh mint on a shelf?

Don’t make sense.

When they had gone, Plugg continued sniffing. Phew! That stink’s still

‘angin’ about. Wot is it?

Kurda was about to suggest that Plugg join his crew-beasts in the stream.

But she thought better of it now that she really needed an ally. Der shmell? I don’t know, maybe all strange voodlands shrink like diss!

The silver fox picked up a burning twig and blew on it. No matter, we’ll see if it smells any better inside that Abbey place, once we’ve burned their doors down. Haha-harr!

Eight Redwallers, headed by Foremole Urrm, shouldered four stout poles running through the hooped iron handle of a massive cauldron. Urrm grunted.

Yurr, altogether naow, give et ee gudd lift, wun, two, hupp!

Filled almost to the brim with oatmeal boiled in honey, the great mass was lifted and carried, one step at a time, up the gatehouse stairs.

Only Memm Flackery and some shrew wives, who were seeing to the Dibbuns, were not present. Just before dawn, Skipper had ordered everybeast up to the battlements to provide a show of force for the vermin’s benefit.

Scarum strode the walltop jauntily. He threw an excellent salute to Skipper and Triss, who were both standing on the threshold directly over the gates. Beeyootiful mornin’, sah an’ marm, no sign o’ Plugg an’ his perishers, no white ferrets or rats to blight the day. I’m about ready for a spot of brekkers, wot!

Shading his eyes, Shogg peered up toward the northwest. You spoke too soon, Scarum mate. ‘Ere they come!

Figures could be seen scurrying out of the woodlands.

They crossed the path, negotiating the ditch on its far side. When a few score of them had made it, they began walking out west, across the flatlands, away from the Abbey.

Sagax watched the line of figures trudging through the clinging remnants of groundmist. The badger scratched his muzzle stripes. Looks like they’re going away.

Scarum merely shook his head. Coin’ away? ‘Fraid not, old lad, they’re just movin’ out of sling an’ arrow range.

Kroova saw them halt a good distance away, straight in line with the Abbey gates. Yore right. ‘Ow did ye know?

Scarum winked confidentially. Son of a colonel, sah, attended Long Patrol School at Salamandastron, learned a smidgeon there, y’know, wot wot!

Sagax tugged his friend’s tail playfully. Hah, Long Patrol School. We spent most of our time playing truant as I remember. Go on, then, what did you learn?

The young hare pointed to the vermin and scoffed, Pish tush an’

fiddleydee, oldest trick in the book, that one. Either they’re tryin’

to draw attention away from our rear, or they’re plannin’ chargin’ us head-on an’ doin’ somethin’ pretty awful to the front gates. See, told you. See those flames, they’re lightin’ a blinkin’ fire, the cads. I’ll wager you a salad to a sausage they’re goin’ to flamin’ well try an’

burn their way in, wot!

Yurr, moi guddbeasts, makeways, us’n’s bee’s a-cummin’ oop thurr wi’

brekkist!

Scarum hopped nimbly to one side, all agog. Oh, splendid show, chaps, hot honeyed oatmeal. Let me give you a lift with that, my good moletypes.

Nothin’ like a spot o’ the old honeyed oatmeal t’keep me handsome, wot!

Triss looked at the huge cauldron of steaming food. So did Skipper, Shogg, Kroova and Sagax. They exchanged grins.

Scarum had a ladlefull. He blew on it and tasted a little. Huh, dunno what you chaps are laughin’ at, this stuff’s jolly hot an’ pretty heavy I can tell you.

Triss and Sagax were now conferring with Foremole Urrm and his crew, leaning over the battlements and pointing out toward the vermin and their fire on the flat-lands. There was lots of whispering and nodding.

Urrm and his moles seemed to find the entire conversation hilarious.

Still trying to cope with his ladle of hot oatmeal, Scarum flapped his ears to cool it and muttered indignantly, Nothin’ funny about a chap tryin’ to have brekkers, wot?

Triss wiped the smile from her face. Of course not, Scarum. Listen, why don’t you take your oatmeal around to the east wall. Organise the sentries there. You said that the vermin may be trying to draw attention away from our rear. If there is anything going on over there, there’s nobeast we’d like better than you to take command.

Any idea of being a commander appealed to the hare. Throwing Triss an elaborate salute, he swaggered off around the ramparts, leaving the steaming cauldron behind and bawling orders to the shrews on the east wall. Attention there, you sloppy lot! Chins in, chests out, shoulders back! Steady in the ranks! First one who moves is on a fizzer! Officer comin’ over, prepare to salute!

Plugg Firetail stood with his back to the fire, enjoying its warmth in the misty dawn. The crew of the Seascab went about their tasks as they listened to him outlining his scheme. He was in high good humour.

Haharr, who needs Princess Pinky-eyes aner lackeys, eh? We’ll show em

‘ow Freebooters gets the job done. While they’re skulkin’ round in the woodlands, I’ll ‘ave us inside yon Abbey in time fer afternoon tea an’

some liddle cakes!

The crew roared with laughter. Their captain had never failed them when it came to plunder and the taking of booty.

Prince Bladd was with them. He giggled excitedly. You be der sly old fox, Captain. Vot is der plan?

Plugg threw a paw about the Pure Ferret, leaning on him like a crutch.

Listen now, mate, an’ I’ll tell ye. Those creatures on the wall will be watchin’ this’ere fire. That’s wot I wants’em to do, see. But they won’t see old Slitfang and Grubbage and some others. They’ll range out in two big’alf-circles an’ sneak up through the grass to the Abbey gates.

With them they’ll be carryin’ dry brush, some veg-gible oil an’ ship’s tar, an’ a smoulderin’ cob o’ tow rope. I’ll stay back’ere by the fire with a few mateys. We’ll distract those sillybeasts’ attention. Then Slitty an’ the rest’ll build the brush up agin the gates, douse it wi’

tar an’ oil, blow on the smoulderin’ tow’til it flames, an’ goodbye Abbey gates. Hahahaharr.

The fat Prince performed a little dance of delight. Diss is gutt, yarr!

Captain, I go vit dem, I make a gutt Freebooter. Let me carry der rope, I’ll set fire to de gates. I like playink mitt fire.

Plugg tweaked the fat Prince’s nose fondly. Right y’are, matey, we’ll make a Freebooter of ye!

Er, er, Cap’n, will ye move away from the fire, sir?

Plugg growled distractedly at Grubbage, who was behind him. Wot’ve you been told about interruptin’ yore cap’n?

Grubbage shrugged. I dunno about a tin cup for flap-pin’, but yore tail’s just fell off with the heat!

Plugg rasped out of the side of his mouth, Scummy, stick it back on, quick! Now then, Grubbage me ole darlin’, come round’ere where I can see ye!

The deaf steersrat knew what was coming. Plugg forced him to bend over by placing the flat of his battle-axe on Grubbage’s neck, then winked at Bladd. Let’s see ye land’im a good kick, me ole royal mate.

Bladd obliged willingly. Grubbage staggered a pace or two, then turned with a grin to his captain.

Bless’im, Cap’n, but’e’s got some kickin’ t’do afore’e’s as good a booter as you!

From the battlements, Churk’s keen eyes watched the activity around the fire. Without taking her eyes from the scene, the ottermaid called out, Is that oatmeal still’ot, Triss?

The squirrelmaid did not bother testing it. Aye, there’s still a bubble or two popping on it, and you can feel the heat from this iron cauldron a good pawlength away. Anything going on up there, Churk?

Looks like they’re startin’ to make their move.

Foremole popped up alongside Churk, squinting hard. Burr, oi doant see nuthin’ excep’ sum vermints a-dancin’ round ee flames, marm.

Triss came up to watch as Churk pointed them out. They’re fannin’ out two ways an’ circlin’ in toward our gates. See, there they go now, layin’

low an’ crawlin’ through the grass an’ heather.

Triss followed the direction of Churk’s paw. Ah, I see them now. Hey, Shogg, Prince Bladd fatbelly is with them, though I don’t see Kurda or any Ratguards.

Shogg was helping Skipper and Kroova place the carrying poles through the cauldron handle. Let’s take care o’ this lot first, Trissy, then we’ll worry about the others. You still keepin’ watch down there, Father Abbot? Tell us when the time’s right.

Abbot Apodemus was down behind the main gates with Malbun and Crikulus, peering through a gap by a lower hinge. I see them now, friend, but they’ve still got a way to come. We’ll let you know when they arrive.

Plugg and about six others were dancing a hornpipe around the fire, singing aloud:

Ho plunder, by thunder!

Ain’t nothin’ nice as plunder.

An’ booty, me beauty,

An’ loads o’ loot to boot!

There’s treasure, fine treasure!

Ye can count it at yore leisure.

All those not slayed an’ thrown in graves, We’ll trade ‘em off as slaves!

Freebooters, we’re looters!

Slingstone an’ arrow shooters.

They sigh now, an’ cry now,

O mercy, woe is me!

Wid cutlass, an’ spears,

We’ll carve off tails an’ ears,

An’ wid full sacks upon our backs,

We deals out blows an’ whacks!

The silver fox got so carried away at one point that he pulled off his tail and whirled it above his head.

Slitfang’s ugly head showed over the ditchbank. He stared up at the seemingly empty walltop. Come on, buckoes, over ye go!

The Abbot saw Bladd scramble out onto the path, grinning wickedly as he blew on the smouldering rope end. Sagax looked down. Crikulus was standing on the lower wallsteps and waving wildly as he nodded his head.

Skipper, Churk, Kroova and Shogg mounted the battlements as Foremole and his crew shouldered the poles, lifting the hot cauldron of honeyed oatmeal off the ground. Leaning over, Triss could see the Freebooters scurrying in pairs across the path, carrying dried brush, oil and tar.

The four sturdy otters at her side leaned down and grabbed the poles, heaving the cauldron off the moles, then straightened up, lifting the cauldron above the walltops.

Crouching down close to the gate, the searat called Ripper splashed vegetable oil on the timbers. He started with shock as a cry rang out from behind a lower hinge.

Yowch, there’s oil in my eye!

In the split second that followed, Skipper roared out loud and clear, Brekkist comin’ over, scum!

The four otters twisted the poles to turn the mixture over the wall, but the poles snapped and the lot fell, cauldron and all. Crikulus leaped back as hot oatmeal flooded under the gate. Malbun, are you all right, friend?

The woodmouse was mopping her eye on an apron corner. No damage, just some vegetable oil in my eye.

With his head ringing from the agonised screams outside the gates of his Abbey, the Father Abbot helped Malbun into the gatehouse and bathed her eye.

A dreadful solution, Malbun. Listen to those wretched beasts.

Crikulus entered, wiping oatmeal from the hem of his robe. Aye, Father, but the vermin could have saved themselves all that injury and agony by leaving Redwall in peace.

Slitfang rolled in the ditch bottom, where there was a lining of stale water and mud. The Freebooter weasel screwed his face up, whimpering from the pain of the scalding honeyed oatmeal that had flooded over his back. Ripper and a searat named Blear fell in on top of him, avoiding a lively salvo of slingstones from the walltop. Slitfang booted them aside and staggered from the ditch. Reeling from side to side, he headed in the direction of the fire on the flatlands.

35

Redwall Abbey’s twin bells tolled out the close of day. It was a warm, quiet summer evening. The Abbot stood at the southwest corner of the high ramparts, discussing the day’s events with his friends. Servers trundled trolleys along the walltops, dishing out meals to the sentries.

Scarum halted young Furrel the molemaid. Marm, would you kindly push that trolley over here? Hmph! Coin’ to make sure I get my grub this time, wot!

The Abbot looked over the top of his glasses. Dear me, you mean to say you’ve missed a meal?

Helping himself to salad, a wedge of leek-and-potato pie, cheese, bread, an apple turnover and a beaker of cordial, the hungry hare sniffed in annoyance. A measly ladle of oatmeal this mornm, that’s all I’ve jolly well had. I was far too busy commandin’ my troops most of the day, sah, dealin’ with scurvy vermin an’ whatnot. What really grieves a chap is how they disposed of the oatmeal. Whackin’ good scoff it was, too, wot.

Far too blinkin’ good t’be fed to those scoundrels at the gate!

Triss fetched him a bowl of rhubarb crumble. No, no, Scarum/ you’ve got it all wrong. We used the hot oatmeal to stop the vermin from burning the gates down. When Skipper and the otters tipped it over them, that oatmeal saved the day.

However, Scarum was not to be pacified. Bloomin’ waste of good tucker, if y’ask me. Now, if I’d been in command,’twould have been different, marm, oh yes! Let me tell you how I dealt with those bounders at the east wall.

A joint groan arose from the listeners. Kroova scowled. You’ve already told us ten times, mate, no need t’go on.

Scarum ignored him completely and launched into his heroic narrative once again. Never wasted a crumb or a drop of scoff, officer trainin’, y’see. Well, anyhow, I put an ear to the east wallgate, an’ I heard that white ferret givin’ her orders. Hello old chap, says I to m’self, what a bloomin’ spot o’ luck. So then... He looked around and found he was talking to himself. They had all moved off to the centre of the west wall. Ignorant bounders, you wouldn’t know a hero if he fell on your confounded heads. Er, excuse me, pretty miss, don’t go chargin’

off with that trolley, I’m only on my first course, wot!

Groans from the wounded and injured echoed around the vermin camp in Mossflower Wood. Kurda’s pink eyes flashed contempt at the Freebooter Captain. So, you showed dem how to do t’ings de Freebooter vay, yarr.

It vas clever de way you stole de hot oatmeal from de Red-vallers. You got mine brother killed, too, is dat how to do t’ings de Freebooter vay?

Plugg snarled back at the Pure Ferret, You been bad luck ever since we took ye aboard, an’ you ain’t sheddin’ no tears fer Bladd. Leaves the way clear for yew, don’t it? Yore brother’ad twice the guts you’ll ever possess,’twas just bad fortune an’ a cast-iron stewpot got’im slayed. Hah! I don’t notice yore crew doin’ any victory dances. I’eard you was beaten by that big rabbit!

A Ratguard was slumped nearby, nursing a broken foot-paw. The silver fox grabbed the injured limb and draggedthe rat forward screaming. Tell us wot ‘appened, matey, c’mon! He loosed his grip, allowing the cringing beast to speak.

Princess Kurda told some of us to try an’ force a way in through the liddle east wallgate. While we was tryin’ i’do it, the rabbit an’ his pals dropped a big fishin’ net over us an’ snarled us up in it. We was trappedÑthey battered us wid slingstones an’ anythin’ they could drop on us. Banged big long poles on our ‘eads, an’ we couldn’t get away.

The rabbit was callin’ us vermin cads an’ rat bounders an’ sayinwot wot’ all the time. We just ‘ad to lie there an’ take it, until they allowed us t’crawl away, still all knotted up in that big net!

Plugg kicked the agonised rat away from him. Picking up his battle-axe, he pointed it at Kurda, his eyes slitted coldly. You’ve got no room to curl yore lip at me, missie. I ‘eard wot you was doin’ while all that was goin’ on. Skulkin’ back in the trees, far away from it as ye could get, ye white-spined coward. At least I went back t’the ditch to ‘elp me mates get away from the slingstones, ain’t that right, Slitty?

Slitfang could scarcely move his head because of the poultice of wet mud and dock leaves covering his back from tail to ears. Aye, Cap’n, ye did that, you ‘elped yore crew!

There was a brief silence while both Ratguards and Freebooters watched their leaders. Plugg remained seated, but Kurda rose slowly, sabre in paw.

Nobeast calls der Princess of de ‘Ouse of Riftgard coward/The silver fox came upright, gripping his axe haft. Oh, is that so, me darlin’?

Well, I just didÑme, Plugg Firetail, an’ I ain’t pertickler who ‘ears it. Yore a coward! A snooty-nosed, lily-livered, cringin’, crawlin’, gutless, spineless coward!

Injured and wounded vermin scrambled to get out of the way. Danger hung on the air as Plugg and Kurda began circling each other, weapons raised.

The parting of their ways had finally come, and one was bound to die.

Kurda locked eyes with Plugg as she returned his insults. You are de scum of der sea, a common stupid foxbeast mitt not even a tail to your idiot name! You shtink, Plugg, de smell of you is all around us, even now! I t’ink dat smell gets stronger because you fear me, you are de coward! With a roar the Freebooter Captain charged. Yoooohaaaaarr!

Kurda swung her sabre, but the Freebooter’s huge battle-axe head struck it, turning the blade and sending the sword spinning from her grasp into the bushes. Carried on by his own momentum, Plugg rushed as she dodged aside. His battle-axe head thudded deep into a sycamore trunk.

Kurda ran into the bushes after her sabre, as Plugg gave the axe a tug, but it was buried too deep, caught fast in the sappy wood. Growling with rage, the silver fox left it there and sped after Kurda with teeth and claws bared. Before the Princess could retrieve her blade, the Freebooter was on her.

Saplings swayed, leaves and grass flew in the air as they battled tooth and claw. Everybeast watched in fascination as shrieks, roars and growls rent the air. Plugg came stumbling backward out of the undergrowth, blood pouring from his wounds. He gave a mad laugh and charged back in, throwing himself at Kurda, who was lying flat on her back, recovering from the Freebooter’s first sally. As the silver fox descended on her, she threw up all four paws rigidly. They struck Plugg, knocking the breath from him in a loud whoosh, and he went sailing over her, deeper into the bushes.

Scrabbling wildly, Kurda found her sabre. She wielded it and turned to face her adversary:The Freebooter jumped upright, ignoring his injuries. Everybeast present was witness to what happened next.

There was a loud hissing, and the bushes parted. Plugg half turned to see what was behind him. The three snakes hit him with terrifying force, sinking their fangs deep. The silver fox was wrenched screeching into the air, vanishing backwards into the woodland thickets with eye-blurring speed.

Mates, ‘elp meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

His piteous last cries hung on the still air. Then there was total silence.

Plugg Firetail, famous Freebooter Captain of the Seascab, was gone forever. The sabre dropped from Kurda’s nerveless grasp. All around her, Ratguards and vermin crew stood or lay, open-mouthed in shock.

Grubbage’s small whimper broke the stillness. It’s took our Cap’n.

A concerted wail arose from the Seascab’s crew.

Riggan picked up the fallen sabre and placed it back in Kurda’s paw.

Blood, fur anellgates! Did y’see that thing, marm?

Still staring into the woodlands, Kurda replied, You can track it, Riggan?

The slavecatcher gulped. Ablindbeast wid only a nose could trail that smell, but who’d want to track that thing?

The sabre point was suddenly forcing Riggan’s chin up. Unless you vant to die here, you vill track it. Dat is mine command. De t’ing vas vearing de crown of Sarengo. Dat crown is mine by right!

Morning arrived with pale skies and a light drizzle. The Abbot and Malbun followed the breakfast servers around the walltops, issuing blankets to the defenders. Scarum accepted his blanket and saluted.

Drizzle shouldn’t last long, sah, it’ll break before noon.

Scanning the sky, the Abbot nodded. You could be right, there. Enjoying a full breakfast this morning, I see?

The young hare dipped his spoon into an outsized bowl of oatmeal. I should jolly well say so, an’ I ain’t sharin’ it with any vermin, sah.

I say, those rotters don’t seem to have shown up this mornin’, wot?

Malbun chuckled. No, perhaps you scared them off altogether, after the brave show you put up yesterday.

Scarum made an elegant leg and allowed her a slight bow. Only doin’

my duty, marm, far too modest t’men-tion it. Though if they have turned tail, one would’ve thought the blighters’d let us know. It ain’t much fun standin’ atop of a bally wall for a couple o’days, wot?

Patting Scarum’s paw sympathetically, the Abbot replied, You’re right, of courseÑMayhap you’d be better off inside the Abbey, looking after the Dibbuns. They get a bit restless after a few days indoors ...

Scarum shot to attention, his eyes roving theatrically over the woodlands, as if expecting immediate attack. Wot, an’ leave the little ones unprotected? Not I, sah. Never can tell, the flippin’ bounders might be sneakin’ up on us even as I speak. I’ll hold my post, if y’don’t mind. Faithful unto death an’ true blue, that’s me, sah!

Triss was sitting within earshot of Scarum, taking breakfast with her friends. Sagax laughed. Listen to him, the rogue, he could talk his way out of a beehive with that silver tongue of his!

Kroova remarked drily, Aye, after he’d eaten the honey.

The squirrelmaid chided them. I think you two are being unfair to ScarumÑhe’s very brave and dependable. I’ve grown to like him a lot since we met/’

Shogg put aside his empty bowl. Well, that’s nice of ye, Trissy. Per’aps you’d like to go an’ mind the Dibbuns. It’d save the Father Abbot havin’

to ask Scarum again.

Triss murmured as she applied herself to the oatmeal, There is such a thing as stretching friendship too far, y’know.

Scarum had not heard the conversation, but he sniffed haughtily at the sound of their laughter. Hmph, gladthere’s some chaps enjoyin’

themselves, stuck up here on a drizzly mornin’, wot!

Over at the south walltop, Mokug and Crikulus took their blankets from the Abbot and made a small tent by draping them across the battlements.

Mokug and Crikulus heard the laughter of Triss and the others. The golden hamster remarked to the Abbot, Good t’see they’re keepin’ in’appy spirits, Father. I likes to see that. Young Triss there, she told me she was a slave at Riftgard since she was a babe. Nice to know a pretty maid like’er can come through it all an’ still smile.

The Abbot watched Triss bantering and joking with her friends. Yes, there’s a lot more to that young squirrel than any of us realise. See how she carries the sword of Martin the Warrior, as though it were part of her. I think that our Triss will leave her mark upon Redwall Abbey, one way or another.

Crikulus paused over his bowl of oatmeal. I’ll second that, friend, that young’un looks bound for greatness!

36

Without Plugg to lead them, the Freebooter crew was hopeless. Huddling together at one end of the camp, they sat about, slack-jawed and dull-eyed. Kurda watched them as she discussed the next moves with Vorto and Rig-gan. The Princess had little else than contempt for the Freebooters, and she showed it openly.

Tchah, look at dem, stupid bunch of mudbrains!

Vorto was inclined to agree with her. Aye, marm, they ain’t foraged for food, nor lit a fire. Scum like that are no use to anybeast, eh, Riggan?

The slavecatcher was not so quick to condemn the crew-beasts. Riggan was a thinker, with a wide knowledge of animal habits.

Mebbe they do seem in a bit of a mess, but look at our own Ratguards.

They ain’t farin’ much better, are they? We’ve all’ad an’orrible shock today. They’re frightened, an’ wid good reason, too.

Kurda respected Riggan’s advice, though she tried never to show it.

So, den, tell me more.

Riggan explained, sure that Kurda would take her advice. Well, first we needs to break camp an’ find some-wheres where that bad serpent smell ain’t hangin’ about. Wot everybeast needs is a strong leader, like yoreself, marm. Settle’em down in a new camp, get a good fire goin’Ñnot two fires, but one good blaze for all. Post sentries, get foragers searchin’ fer vittles. Crack’em back into shape.

Kurda was nodding as she listened. Gutt, gutt, go on.

Riggan warmed to her scheme. When everybeast’s lookin’ better, you got to make it clear that yore chief, marm. Don’t take no backtalk or nonsense from Plugg’s ole crew. Y’see, I know yore bound to’unt that monster down an’ git yore crown back. That’s goin’ to mean a lot o’ deaths.

So why waste the lives of me’n’ Vorto an the Rat-guards, when there’s a full gang o’ seascum fer ye to use?

The Pure Ferret allowed Riggan one of her rare smiles. Yarr, ve might even spare der liddle deaf’un, Grubbage, to sail de Seashcab back to Riftgard for us, eh?

The slavecatcher bowed her head briefly. Yore idea is a good’un, marm.

Right, Vorto?

The Ratguard Captain agreed immediately. Good idea, marm!

Kurda patted her sabre hilt. All mine ideas are gutt!

Nobeast objected to moving camp. Riggan chose a spot closer to the path, a clearing in a fir grove with a clean smell of pine. By nightfall things were beginning to look up; a large fire burned in a freshly dug pit and the foragers had brought in berries, roots and several fat wood-pigeons. The weasel Tazzin and a female ferret, aptly named Fatty, were self-appointed cooks. They set about providing a meal for everybeast. Riggan played her part well, jollying both sides along.

Ahoy, look at this, mates, the Ratguards just brought in fresh water an’ three nests full o’ coots’ eggs. Keep a good big fire burnin’ there, Freebooters, snakes don’t like fire. We’ll keep it goin’ an’ sleep round it tonight. Wot’s that you got there, Scummy?

The stoat had been laboriously scratching away at a piece of slate with a shard of flint. He held it up proudly.

’Tis a poem I writ fer our good ole Cap’n an’ pore Prince Bladd, just to remember’em by.

Vorto could not help sneering at the stoat. Hah, yew writin’? Rubbish.

Freebooters can’t write.

Riggan stamped on Vorto’s paw and glared at him. Leave Scummy alone, of course’e can write. I’ll wager’tis a good poem. Come on Scummy, mate, read it out!

The Seascab’s crew enjoyed the fact that one of their number had some learning. They encouraged him heartily.

Aye, go on, Scumm, you show’em, mate!

The stoat stepped into the firelight and began reading his efforts, slowly at first, but gaining confidence as he rendered his eulogy to Plugg and Bladd.

Cap’n Plugg’ad an’eart o’ gold,

He was good at lootin’ an’ slayin’.

Plugg could lay out some whacks, wid his battle-axe, An’ laugh, just as if’e was playin’.

Aye, but’e was like a father to us,

Ain’t a single beast’ere can say

They didn’t enjoy a kick from the Cap’n, Once the Seascab got under way!

But I tell ye, mates, I cried salt tears, When’is tail fell off in me paw,

Robbed of’is tail, by a foul sneaky trick, Far from’ome, on some foreign shore.

Whenever I thinks of dear ole Plugg,

The sight’ll haunt me mind,

Of me an’ Grubbage, fixin’ that tail,

Wid sticky stuff, to his be’ind.

But our Cap’n is gone, an’ everyone,

Must curse those’orrible snakes,

An’ live in’opes, Plugg was tough as ole ropes, An’ killed’em wid stummick aches!

But’earken, mates, to the tale o’ pore Bladd, All fat’n’white, wid pink eyes,

Slayed by a cauldron of oatmeal,

Ain’t that an orful surprise?

Whacked on’is royal’ead, by a big iron pot, Bladd liked oatmeal as much as the next, But not the full lot, served up pipinot, I’ll bet yer’e felt rather vexed!

Aye, Cap’n an’ Prince, we ain’t seen’em since, Wot a sad gloomy story it makes.

One killed at lunchtime by brekkist,

An’ the other et up by snakes!

Scummy took his bow amid fervent applause from both sides. Many of the Freebooters wept openly, tears coursing down their ugly, bewhiskered faces. Under Vorto’s watchful eye, the Ratguards bowed their heads, bodies shaking, as if racked by grief. However, they had difficulty controlling their laughter, as none of them had been particularly fond of the fat, spoiled Prince.

Kurda felt it was time to make her announcement. She stood by the fire, leaning on her sabre.

Listen to vot I haff to say. No more do I go up against dat Abbey, Now ve must seek vengeance against der shnakes, der monsters vot slayed de good Captain Plugg! Hear me, tomorrow I hunt de serpints to der death, und you vill be at my side and make dem pay for our friend Plugg. Yarr?

Slitfang emerged from behind the firelight and put the crew of the Seascab’s view bluntly. We ain’t goin’.

Vorto hurried forward, spear at the ready. Silence! The Princess is the leader of this group now!

Slitfang drew his cutlass and pointed it at Vorto. Shut yore mouth an’

keep outta this. Leaders, eh? I’m the leader of the Seascab’s crew when the Cap’n ain’t’ere, an’ I say we ain’t goin’ on no snake’unt, see!

Kurda curled her lip scornfully at him. So, you are de coward now, you don’t care noddink about de Captain. Seascum, you are not fit to lead!

Kurda was a bit taken aback when Slitfang laughed in her face. Haharr, lissen to’er, mates, she loved our Cap’n so much that she wants revenge fer’im? Who do ye think yore foolin’, pink eyes, I’eard you an’ Riggan talkin’ together when Plugg got taken. Vengeance, me eye, you saw the crown on the snake’s’ead. Now ye know where the treasure lies, in the serpent’s den! That’s wot yore after, missy. Don’t lissen to’er, mates, she’ll get the lot o’ ye killed!

Kurda was trying to hold her rising temper under control. All right, all I vant is de crown, an’ a pawring dat belongs to mine family. You can haff all der rest, shplit it like booty betveen you. It is mine command dat ve go, so obey!

Slitfang was beginning to enjoy baiting the Princess. Ho, we’ll go all right, first thing tomorrer, straight back to our ship. We’re Freebooters, not fools. I’ll tell ye somethin’ else, too: Don’t try an’ stand in our way. Right, crew?

The Seascab’s company rose, cheering with him to a beast.

Aye, we’ve’ad enough, let’s ship out!

Yore givin’ the orders, Cap’n Slitty!

Tis wot Plugg would’ve wanted!

Kurda seemed to wilt under the weight of opinion against her. She lowered her sabre. Shrugging and smiling ruefully, she skirted the fire, her paw held out to Slitfang.

So, you are a Freebooter who knows his own mind, yarr. Go if you must, no hard feelinks, eh, Slitty?

The weasel chuckled. Aye, an’ good luck wid yore snake’unt, Princess.

Lowering his cutlass, he held forth his paw.

It was as if Kurda were back at Riftgard, chopping turnips in the armoury.

Two lightning-swift strokes of the sabre, one across, one down. Tazzin reached for her dagger, but dropped her paw as a blade touched the back of her neck and Riggan whispered in her ear, Just try it an’ yore a deadbeast for sure!

Kurda stepped over Slitfang’s headless carcass, flicking his severed paw to one side. She nodded to Vorto. Take diss out of mine sight!

Later that night, Kurda lay down at the edge of the firelight to sleep.

Riggan and Vorto spread their cloaks on either side of the Princess.

She watched the flames reflecting off the pile of weaponry taken from the Seascab’s crew by her Ratguards. These would only be reissued at her command. The Pure Ferret sighed with satisfaction. None of de Freebooters challenged me after I make de example mit Slitfang, yarr.

Riggan half closed her eyes, ever watchful as she murmured, None would even look yore way, marm, you was quicker’n any snake wid that sabre!

Triss stood on the northwest ramparts, sipping a beaker of hot vegetable soup and watching a silver sickle moon peeking out from behind a small, fluffy cloud. Seated with his back against the battlements, Shogg yawned wearily and stretched.

Didn’t come back, did they? I’m not complainin’.’Tis good to’ave a day’s peace after wot we’ve been through.

Scarum slid his empty beaker on the walkway and picked up the otter’s half-full one. Shogg nudged him gently. I saw that, mate. You go on an’ finish it, though. It might get yore ears out of their grumpy position.

The young hare’s ears half rose, then fell back. Grumpy? Who said I’m blinkin’ grumpy, wot? Stuck up here for the flippin’ rest o’ me life with nothin’ t’do. Huh, I volunteered myself for duty in the kitchens, an’ that bloomin’ Friar Gooch said he’d sooner have the vermin helpin’

out there instead o’ me. The nerve!

Log a Log watched a moth hovering round the glint from his rapier blade.

Never mind, Scarum. I’ll tell young Furrel to pack ye an’ extra-big lunch tomorrow.

Scarum nodded. Friendly little molemaid, I like her.

Lunch, did you say lunch, old lad? Why would she be packin’ me a lunch, am I goin’ anywhere?

Skipper leaned over from his walltop perch and tickled the hare’s ear.

If’n the vermin don’t show up afore mid-morn, we’re takin’ a scoutin’

party out t’see wot’s goin’ on in Mossflower woodlands. Are ye comin’?

The hare tried to poach Sagax’s soup beaker and got a rap over the paw for his audacity. Count me in, old scout, anythin’s better’n sittin’

up here like a caterpillar waitin’ to change into a bloomin’ butterfly, wot wot wot!

Sagax gave Scarum his beaker, but it was empty. He smiled at his friend’s dejected expression.

Oh, stop looking like a boiled bumblebee. I know you’re bored, we’re all bored, and it’s a long time until dawn. Come on, Scarum, entertain us. Give us that monologue about your uncle GurdiloÑI like that one.

The hare sniffed. It’s Burdilo, not Gurdilo, an’ all you’ve given me tonight is a flarmn’ empty soup beaker. Shan’t!

Triss picked up the beaker. Oh, do it, please, I’ve never heard about your uncle Burdilo. I’ll fill this beaker with soup again if you recite it for us. Promise.

Scarum rose stiffly. You do know the way to a chap’s heart, miss, or is it his stomach? Same thing. Oh, all right, here goes. The hare soon had them all chuckling with his comic poem.

My uncle Burdilo was a chap that you’d like to know. He’d paws like iron an’ a back like oak, All in all quite a handsome bloke! They say he scoffed his own weight twice, In the space of a bloomin’ day, An’

licked ten times his weight in foes, At least that’s what they say, hey. Beefer yoofer arfer deefer, eyefer elfer oh. That’s how he spelt his name, y’know. My uncle Burdilo!

His eyesight was so jolly good, Do you know what they say? He could spot a fly on an apple pie, A score o’ miles away... even on a foggy day! So strong and tough a hare he was, D’you know what he did one day?

He stood in a pail an’ picked it up, An’ carried himself away, hey.

Beefer yoofer arfer deefer, eyefer elfer oh, That’s how he spelt his name, y’know. My uncle Bur-dilo!

He’d swim wide seas with skill an’ ease, And often for a joke, He’d run so fast, as he sped past, His footpaws puffed out smoke! Y’know what they say, he raced one day, Until his tail was burnin’, He ran, of course, with such great force, He met himself returnin’. Beefer yoofer arfer deefer, eyefer elfer oh, That’s how he spelt his name, y’know.

My uncle Bur-dilo!

During the laughter and applause that followed, Scarum bowed and flourished both ears outrageously. He flopped down beside Triss.

Now, then, how’s about that beaker o’ soup, m’gel?

She smiled sweetly at him. Oh, that. No need for me to go dashing off to the kitchensÑhere come Foremole Urrm and Furrel with two big jugs of soup for refills.

The hare’s face was the picture of outrage. You knew they were comin’.

Hoodwinker, charlatan! I’ll never trust a pretty face again, wot, you see if I bally well don’t, huh!

Sagax pushed him playfully. Oh, stop grumbling, it passed away a pleasant moment or two, didn’t it?

Scarum held out his beaker to be filled, muttering, Might have for you rotten lot, but it took quite a bit out of me, wastin’

my artistic an’ poetic talents on a pack o’ soup-guzzlin’ buffoons, wot. I say there, Furrel, you charmin’ young molemaid, keep pourin’.

This blmkin’ beaker’s only half fullÑkeep goin’, me pretty one!

The molemaid wrinkled her snout. Hurr hurr, you’m a gurt flatterer, zurr, h’oi can’t resist ee!

Kroova whispered to Sagax, I’m glad somebeast can’t! Scarum shot him an icy glance. I heard that, y’know!

37

As all the able-bodied Redwallers were guarding the wall-tops, there was nobeast to relieve them. Night’s dark hours dragged by with painful slowness. The defenders paired off, one napping whilst the other kept watch. Beyond the walls, Mossflower Woods lay calm and peaceful/ but to the sentries’ eyes they looked different. Every shifting moonshadow or breeze-swayed bough represented the threat of a fresh vermin attack.

Triss watched the silent plain spread out in front of her. Many thoughts wandered in and out of her mind. The friends she had left on Riftgard’s cold northern coasts, still trapped in a life of miserable slavery.

Agarnu, the fat white King, stumping about on his false limb, while his tyrannical mind dreamed up new schemes that added to the harsh existence of the wretched captives who served his every whim. The vow she had made to poor old Drufo.

Triss touched the hilt of Martin’s wondrous sword. Silently she renewed her vow to return and free the slaves. Martin the Warrior’s spirit had guided her across the seas to Redwall. She would do what she had to and help her new friends to defend their Abbey against evil. But the day would come when she would set paw again on Riftgard’s shores to avenge Drufo’s memory, and that of the father she had never known, Rocc Arrem.

Lying on a bed near the dormitory door, Memm Flackery stuck out a paw, stopping the Dibbun Bikkle from leaving the room. The Harenurse murmured.

Where d’you think you’re off to, little miss?

The squirrelbabe climbed up onto Memm’s bed. Breff-ist, it bee’s time for breffist, Bikkle,’ear a larker!

The bed creaked as Memm rose and carried Bikkle to an open window. Dawn’s first lark twittered thinly, ascending into the pale light of a new day. Delicate rose hues stippled the horizon, dispersing the dark blue of night as soft gold sunrays threaded out between creampuff clouds.

Ruggum trundled up beside Memm and Bikkle. Yurr, ee larker bee’s a-tellin’ uz et’s toime furr breffist.

Taking in the glorious scene before her, Memm absently patted the molebabe’s head. Hmm, the beauties of Mother Nature are never lost on you, Ruggum, wot!

Nodding solemnly, the molebabe agreed. Hurr, they’m surpintly b’ain’t, marm!

The morning wore on, with no sign of the vermin returning to attack Redwall. Skipper and Log a Log had shared their plans with the Abbot: a force was to be sent out into the woodlands. It was vital that they knew what had caused the Freebooters and Ratguards to break off the attack.

Triss was pleasantly surprised when they consulted her as to who should go and who would stay behind to protect the Abbey. Scarum was chosen to stay with the home-guard, as was Gurdle Sprink and all the shrews who had arrived with Mimsy and Gulif, most of whom had families. The rest would be Redwallers, those too young or old to travel, and possibly fight. Triss suggested that they leave at least one more capable warrior behind, to assist Scarum and Curdle. They decided it would be one of the four otters. Shogg, Kroova, Churk and Rumbol drew lots, and it fell to the sea otter.

Kroova was slightly disappointed, but he made light of it. Hah, it’ll be easy enough defendin’ the walltops, mates, but who’s goin’ to defend the kitchens against old Scarum?

Foremole and his crew were out on the path, having just finished burying the slain vermin and cleaning the oatmeal from the gateway. He touched a heavy digging claw to his snout as the tracking party emerged from the Abbey.

Hurr, gudd luck to ee, zurrs’n’marms, you’m be careful an’ watch owt furr ee vermint villyuns.

The remaining Redwallers flocked to the west walltop as Skipper, Log a Log, Triss and Sagax led off their crew at high noon. Guosim shrews formed the main body, followed by the three otters, Mokug and a half-dozen Abbey dwellers. The Abbot stood on the walltop with Scarum and Kroova, waving and calling goodbyes. The hare bellowed down to the trackers, Give’em blood’n’vinegar, chaps, an’ don’t let that Sagax too near the blinkin’ supplies. Badgers are born hogs, y’know. Hawhawhaw!

Triss threw a salute to the Abbot. Don’t worry, Father, I’ll bring Martin’s sword back safe and sound.

Apodemus smiled fondly at her. I’m sure you will, my child.

Shogg and Kroova had become close friends. The sea otter shouted down to Shogg, I’ll tell Friar Gooch t’make some shrimp’n’hotroot soup to share with ye on yore return, mate.

Shogg grinned from ear to ear. Yore a good’un, matey. I’ll look forward to that. We’ll scoff it t’gether.

Foremole and his crew were still out on the path. They watched until the last creature disappeared into the woodlands, then Scarum began exercising his authority from above.

Attention now, all moletypes will come inside an’ lock the gates, quick as y’like now, jump to it! Scarum saluted Kroova with a fine military flourish. Got to keep those wallahs on the move, y’know, wot!

The otter, still staring at the small dust cloud the party had left on the path, agreed absentmindedly. Wot, oh aye, right, mate, keep’em on the move ...

Ripper the searat and Tazzin found themselves in the vanguard of the vermin as they marched through the quiet, sunshafted woodlands. Without turning his eyes, Ripper nodded backward. I’ll wager that Princess Kurda is well perfected.

Tazzin took a quick peek. Oh aye, yore right there. She’s right in the middle ranks, guarded by spears. Not up front in the open like me’n’

you, mate. Still, there’s’er tracker, Riggan, scoutin’ up ahead of us.

If anybeast gets attacked by snakes, she’ll be the first.

Ripper did not agree. Not when we gets t’the snakes’ den, that’s when we’ll be given our weapons back an’ told to charge in the front door.

Well,’ere’s one wot won’t be goin’. I ain’t no fool. Let’er guards do the chargin’.

Tazzin’s gaze roved from side to side as she answered, You seen wot’appened to Slitfang, didn’t ye? Kurda ain’t a beast t’be crossedÑI never seen a creature so fast an’ deadly wid a sabre. She’d’ave slayed Plugg if’n the snakes didn’t get to’im first. That ferret’s a real swordbeast!

Not only had Kurda ringed herself with Ratguards, but she had split the unarmed Freebooters, keeping half in front of the column and the other half behind. The Princess was as frightened as any of them by the thought of the three snakes, but her mind was working constantly as she discussed plans with Vorto.

Ven Riggan finds der serpents’ den, you give de Freebooters der veapons back. I t’ink many of dem get killed in de shnakes’ lair. Who vill get mine crown back for me?

Vorto had been thinking up a new plan, which he outlined. No real need for ‘em t’go chargin’ in, yore ‘ighness. Suppose we was to stake one o’ the Freebooters out in front o’ the den? We could be layin’ in wait when the serpents come out t’get the bait, then we could send Plugg’s crew in to finish the snakes off.

Kurda liked the idea. Yarr, gutt! Den you an’ mine guards rush in an’

take mine crown from der dead serpents. Und if de lair is empty, den you go in an’ get der pawring. Gutt!

Vorto was not too happy about exploring the snakes’ den to find the royal pawring. But he said nothing, knowing that he could drive any surviving Freebooters in ahead of him. It was a good plan; all that would be sacrificed would be the crew of the Seascab.

Log a Log’s scouts tracked the vermin trail to their previous night’s camp. A Guosim shrew emerged from the undergrowth rather swiftly.

There’s a slayed weasel in there, with ‘is paw anead lopped off. They must’ve been quarrellin’ among themselves.

With one mighty tug, Sagax released Plugg’s battle-axe from the trunk of the sycamore. He wielded it in one paw. I like the feel of this weapon.

I think I’ll claim it.

Triss watched him heft the big axe. I think you’d better have it, it suits you, Sagax. There’s not many other beasts could lift it, let alone use it!

Log a Log stirred the dead fire ashes with his rapier, listening to the report of one of his scouts.

Still a smell of those adders yonder, faint, but track-able. Looks like they’re huntinem, Chief.

Wiping his rapier clean, the Guosim Chieftain replied, Aye, an’ we’re trackin’ them. So everybeast be double careful, an’ you scouts, watch yoreselves. Give a shout if’n ye get into trouble, we won’t be far behind.

Shogg threw some kindling on the dead fire and set flint to tinder, blowing on the sparks. Log a Log saw what he was doing and nodded approval.

No sense in catchin’ up to ‘em too soon, eh, mate?

Shogg dug bread and cheese from his pack. I figger if the vermin are huntin’ these serpents, we’d be better off lettinem go ahead an’ do it. No sense in runnin’ into the middle of a vermin snakefight.

Log a Log winked broadly at Triss. That’s a smart matey ye got there, miss. Let’s stop an’ take a snack.

The squirrelmaid sat down with Shogg and Mokug, who was going over the map rhyme, which he had remembered by heart.

Midday sun shines bright for you, ‘Twixt leaning ash and poison gold, Where the greenrock hidden lies, For keen eyes to behold.

All of the Abbey newcomers were familiar with the riddle. During the long watches on Redwall’s ramparts they had been told of the story of the quest for Brockhall. Mokug sat repeating the lines under his breath, his brow furrowed with concentration. Triss passed him bread and cheese.

Keep trying, mate, you’ll get the answer sooner or later.

Packing food into his cheek pouches, the golden hamster chattered his teeth in frustration. Well, I ‘opes ‘tis sooner, missy, J likes to ‘elp me friends. These Redwallers ‘ave been good to me! Skipper’s showed me wot an ash tree looks like, but I don’t know anythin’ about poison gold an’ greenrocks. Huh, nor does young Churk, an’ she’s cleverer than most of us put t’gether.

A glimmer of pride for his species shone in Shogg’s eyes. Aye, mate, us otters knows a lot more’n most beasts think!

Mokug looked hopefully at him. Could you solve it, Shogg?

The otter shuffled his paws awkwardly, Well, er, I dunno, I ain’t had as much learnin’ as Churk ...

Triss clasped his paw, encouraging her friend. Give it a try, Shogg, go on. What do you think of it all?

He stared hard into the fire, scratching his chin. Hmm, it seems t’me that we’re lookin’ for an’idden green rock, an’ the clue to it is in the midday sun. But yore puzzle is in that second line. Twixt leanin’

ash an’ poison gold.’ D’ye think I’m on the right track, Triss?

The squirrelmaid ran mentally over the second line. You could be. We’ve found out that leaning ash is probably an ash tree that leans in some way. Now, what about poison goldÑcould that be a tree as well?

Mokug suddenly brightened up. Aye, it might be a tree!

Shogg became aware that other members of the party were listening to the conversation as they sat eating. So he attempted to enlist their help. Ahoy, mates, any of ye knows about trees?

Log a Log pointed out a serious-faced shrew. Grifty, yore always spoutin’

poems an’ songs about the woodlands. Yore ole mum was a healer, wasn’t she?

The Guosim shrew Grifty prodded the fire with a stick. Aye, best healer in all Mossflower, my mother was. She knew all the names o’ plants, bushes, trees an’ flowers. She needed to use all of’em for’er remedies.

Well, wot can y’tell us about trees?

Grifty was considering Log a Log’s question as he poked at the fire.

Trees, hmm, now let me see. I can do ye a rhyme about trees. Would that be any help?

Mokug chuckled. We needs all the help we can git, mate. Do your rhyme for us, please.

It took Grifty a moment to recall the rhyme, then he looked up from the fire and began reciting:

Most trees are old, long-standing friends, With crowns of leaf and trunks of wood, Their lives o’er countless seasons span, And learn from them we should.

Great oak is king of woodlands,

It rules both copse and glade,

To give us acorns from its cups,

Midst wondrous spreading shade.

Bold chestnut, too, has nuts for you,

Some maples’ sap is sweet,

Slim rowan, known as mountain ash,

Bears berries red to eat.

Dark baubles from the elder,

And juniper so fine,

Like fruits of good wild cherry,

Can all be turned to wine.

But other trees are not like these,

Take caution and beware,

Some are born to carry death,

Although they may look fair.

Bright berries of spurge laurel,

Laburnum’s flowers of gold,

And blossoms from a guelder rose,

All beauteous to behold,

But poison in their nature,

I say to you, my friend,

Ignore this timely warning,

And your days will swiftly end!

Shogg slapped his rudder sharply on the ground. Ha-harr, there’tis, plain as the crust on a pie! Laburnum flowers o’ gold an’ they’re poison, too. Twixt leanin’ ash an’ poison gold.’ We’re lookin’ for a laburnum crossed by an ash tree wot ain’t growin’ straight!

Mokug tugged at Triss’s robe. Wot does a laburnum look like?

Triss explained. It’s not a big tree, but quite slender, with smallish spearhead-shaped leaves and long chains of bright yellow flowers hanging from every branch. Laburnum’s a deadly tree, though, not just the flowers, but the leaves, wood and bark and all.

She was interrupted by Log a Log calling to his scouts, Take a look round the woods, mates, see if ye can bring back a laburnum branch to show ole Mokug.

Triss was surprised by the shrews’ alacrity. They seemed to have been gone no time at all, when one came racing back. In his paw he clutched a laburnum branch, wrapped around one end with dock leaves to protect himself.

As soon as Mokug caught sight of it, he was beside himself with eagerness.

I’ve seen one of’em before, a tree all covered wid those yellow flowers.

I’ve seen one, I tell ye!

Shogg was caught up in the excitement. Where, mate, where?

Mokug ceased jumping up and down. Er, er, I couldn’t put me paw on it right now, but I’ll remember, never fear, mates. I know’twas someplace east of where ye found me when that ole owl was slain. Aye, I’ll know it when I sees it!

Log a Log shook his head. But that’s away from the vermin tracks we’re followin’, well away.

There was a momentary silence, then Churk spoke up. All the better for us, I say. If the vermin are trackin’ the snakes to their den, they’ll be goin’ in by the front way. But if we can find the back entrance, we’ll know where both the vermin an’ the serpents are. Inside!

Sagax left off whetting his axe blade and viewed the sky. How far off would you say the two trees are, Mokug?

The hamster scratched his ear. Oh, a fair piece, I’d say, at least half a mornin’s walk.

Log a Log thrust his rapier into the earth. Right, then we camp’ere tonight an’ break camp at dawn. With any luck, that’ll bring us to the place before midday sun shines bright for us!

38

Redwall’s rose-coloured sandstone walls still felt warm from the summer day’s heat. Blackbirds could be heard warbling throatily in the evening’s stillness. Father Abbot had gone back to his Dibbun days; he was enjoying himself down at the Abbey pond with a group of Abbeybabes.

The old mouse cut a comical figure as, with his long habit rucked up, he dashed into the shallows and joined in with the fun of skipping stones, chortling happily, Three, four, five, look, my stone bounced six times!

Ruggum glared at him suspiciously. Yurr, oi only counted foive bouncers, zurr, b’ain’t that roight, Malbun, marm?

Malbun, who was sitting on the grassy bank with Criku-lus and Memm, agreed with the infant mole. Aye, Rug-gum, five it was. You still hold the record for six bounces. You counted wrong, Father Abbot!

Abbot Apodemus pulled a face that had the Dibbuns squeaking with laughter.

You just don’t want me to win the candied chestnut trifle, you old cheatÑbet you’re going to share it with Ruggum. You’re both in this together!

Crikulus looked sternly over his glasses. Six bounces gets the trifle, sirÑyours was only five. I counted’em me-self!

The Abbot registered an expression of comic shock. You’re both on Ruggum’s side now! Memm Flackery, tell them my stone bounced six times, please.

The Harenurse’s ears twitched. I certainly will not, sah! An Abbot of your age, cheatin’! What’s Redwall comin’ to?

Friar Gooch solved the dispute by marching up with Furrel, his molemaid assistant, in tow. My candied chestnut trifle’s been stolen!

Wading out of the pond, the Abbot unhitched his wet habit. Are you sure you’re right, Gooch, stolen?

Furrel assisted him up the bank. Burr aye, zurr, ee troi-fle’s bee’d stoled roight enuff. Oi see’d ee Friar putten et on ee gurt slate shelf, to let it be coolen.

Gooch cut in, fluttering his jaws wildly. A moment later, there it was, gone!

Paws akimbo, Memm stared accusingly at one or two likely Dibbun candidates. Own up, you villains, who’s sneaked back to the kitchens instead of playin’ skimmin’ stones, wot?

Kroova’s head broke the surface of the pond’s centre, where he had been acting as lifeguard, and swam ashore. None of these liddle’uns been away from this pond, marm, I’ve kept a close check on’em since we arrived’ere. The question ye should be askin’ is, where’s Scarum?

The Abbot gaped disbelievingly at Kroova. Scarum? You don’t mean he ...

The otter nodded decisively. Aye, Scarum. As hares go, beggin’ y’pardon, miz Memm, Scarum is the biggest glutton’twixt’ere an’ the cracks o’

doom. Come on, let’s find’im!

The young hare in question was snoring in an upturned barrow at the orchard entrance. A candied chestnut was stuck to the fur between his ears, meadowcream liberally festooned his whiskers, and traces of redcurrant, blackberry, maple sponge and other trifle ingredients clung to his narrow chest and bulging stomach.

He grumbled dreamily as Kroova poked a paw into his midriff, Gerroff, it’s all mine, go an’ get your own, rotter! Memm took the wheelbarrow and turned him out with a mighty heave. Scarum sat up, blinking.

What’n the name ... I say there, chaps, have a care, wot. A gentle shake’s all that’s needed t’wake your jolly old military commander. Ho hum, what’s up with you bounders, all standin’ round with faces like flippin’

fried frogs?

Memm seized his ears and hauled him upright. Candied chestnut trifle, sah, where is it?

Scarum transformed into the picture of outraged innocence. Candied chestnut trifle, marm, what’re you wafflin’ on about, wot wot? Never come across one in me life, no marm!

He winced as Kroova ripped the sticky chestnut from between his ears and stuck it on the end of his nose. Quite deliberately, the sea otter wiped cream from Scarum’s whiskers and smeared it along his top lip like a moustache. Kroova brought his face close until they were eye-to-eye.

That candied chestnut trifle, you’orrible great food-bag. Don’t tell lies, yore only makin’ it worse for yoreself!

Scarum forced a weak smile. Oh, that one! Well, why didn’t you say, old lad? I, er, spotted it in the kitchen an’ just took a small nibble, nothin’ too drastic, wot.

The Abbot stared questioningly at him. A small nibble?

Scarum nodded emphatically. Yes, sah, barely a smidgen. Don’t know what happened to the rest of the confounded trifle. 1 expect those moles guzzled it. Small types, but incredibly greedy, those molechaps, I say, what d’you think you’re doin’? Yowch! Owch! Lemme go, mercy!

Memm and Kroova had him by an ear apiece. They hauled him off to the Abbey, with Malbun giving him the dressing-down of his life, accompanied by hard paw prods.

That trifle was to be shared out among the Dibbuns as a treat/ with the winner of the stone-skimming getting the first portion. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, depriving those poor babes of their special treat?

Opening the Abbey door, the Abbot took charge. Thank you, Memm and Kroova, you may release him now. Right, master Scarum, follow me!

The door slammed behind them. There was an awed silence as the Dibbuns stood looking at one another on the doorstep. Ruggum spoke in a hoarse whisper. Boo urr, oi wunners wot zurr h’Abbot bee’s goin’ t’do to Scarum?

Mousebabe Turfee had some definite views on the subject. Choppa off’n his tail an’ baff de daylights out of him, an’ make’im go fbed for fifty’leven days. Ho yes!

Memm picked the mousebabe up. Is that all? Lettin’ the cad off far too easy, if y’ask me, wot!

Later that evening, Friar Gooch and Furrel made it up to the Dibbuns by creating another trifle and serving it out to them in the orchard.

The Abbot came out to join them, gratefully accepting a bowl of the delicious trifle and a beaker of strawberry fizz. Crowding around him, the Dibbuns eagerly wanted to know what punishment had been meted out to the greedy hare. As each enquiry became more gruesome, the Abbot called for quiet.

No, no, I never chopped off his tail or boiled him up in the soupÑwhat a bloodthirsty notion!

Crikulus could no longer restrain his curiosity. Then how did you deal with the wretch, Father?

Putting aside his bowl, the Abbot explained. Well, the first thing I did was to put him on a diet for three daysÑonly one portion of lettuce leaves and water per day. Then I locked him in the main Dibbuns’ dormitory with pail, scrubber, broom and duster. Scarum must scrub the place from top to bottom, floor, walls, windows, everything. After that he must restuff all the mattresses, make up the beds with clean bed linen and wash all the old stuff. That should keep him amused!

Opinions were divided, with Dibbuns still muttering darkly of tail chopping and soup boiling, whilst the elders nodded sagely.

Kroova smiled with satisfaction. Three days with just one meal a day of lettuce an’ water? You’ll’ear ole Scarum yowltn’ a league away!

Looking over the top of his glasses, the Abbot agreed. I’ve no doubt we will. I’ve also stripped him of his command. Kroova, you’ll be in charge of the wallguards. Every other beast can sleep out here in the orchard.’Tis a fine warm night here, and out of yowling range, too.

The Dibbuns cheered gleefully. Sleeping out in the orchard was an adventure for them. Sister Vernal, Mimsy and Memm exchanged grim looks; their night’s work was cut out for them, keeping the Abbeybabes together in one place.

Dawn was well up and a fresh summer’s day was under way. A needlepoint of sunlight pierced the gloom of Brock-hall. Zassaliss uncoiled, dealing the other two adders light blows with his blunt nose.

Hisssst! Sssomething goesss on outsssside, let usss ssseeee!

Kurda had chosen the skinniest, most useless-looking Freebooter, an old searat called Whidge. The remainder of the Seascab’s crew were forced to watch, helpless and unarmed, as Vorto and three Ratguards laid paws on Whidge, dragging him shrieking to an open spot within view of the door in the oak tree. When Whidge saw the stake, driven deep into the ground, with a rope collar attached to it, he dug his footpaws in and wailed aloud to his comrades, Don’t let’em do this t’me, mates,’elp me,’elp me!

Ablow to his jaw from Vorto’s spearbutt knocked the old searat senseless.

Ratguards menaced the Freebooters with their spearpoints as Kurda addressed them warningly.

Dat von is old and useless. Anybeast tryink to rescue’im vill take his place, yarr?

Cowed and leaderless, they hung their heads in silence. Vorto swiftly bound Whidge’s paws together and tightened the rope halter at the back of the searat’s neck, where he could not reach it. Riggan signaled everybeast back to the cover of the undergrowth where Vorto placed two Rat-guards with each group of Freebooters. They held the crewbeast’s weapons, ready to distribute at a nod from their captain, while Kurda took to a high fernbed, where she crouched with Vorto and Riggan on either side of her. The Pure Ferret could see the door from her vantage point. She drew her sabre.

Und now ve haff only to vait!

From his spyhole behind the door, Zassaliss and the other two snakes had seen all that went on. Sesstra hissed softly, They leave ussss food, they fear usssss! Her brother Harssacss flickered his tongue sensuously.

Brother Zassaliss, doessss not the ssssight of food make usssss ravenousssss?

Zassaliss was bigger and more powerfully built than his brother and sister. He retreated down the tunnel, pulling them along with him.

Sarengo’s rusty mace chain clanked as he halted a safe distance away from the entrance.

Can you not ssssee, it issss a trap. We will sssstay here, sssstill and sssssilent. The day will be warmÑat noon they will tire of waiting and sssssleep. Then we will sssstrike fasssst and sssseize the bait!

You two take him. I will watch over ussss and take care of any foolsss who try to attack usss!

Triss left the main body of the column and went ahead to catch up with Mokug. The sprightly old hamster was scurrying along, with his eyes fixed on the woodlands ahead. He pointed. Haharr, we’re gettin’ near there, missy, see. Laburnums, there’s plenty of’em in this neck o’ the woods.

Triss saw the splotches of hanging yellow blooms amid the trees. D’you know which is the right one?

Mokug plowed onward. I will when I sees it, I’m shore!

Skipper caught up with them, looking doubtful. We’re a good way east o’ the place where 1 found the capes an’ lanternsÑquite a ways, in fact.

Ahoy, Mokug, are you sure it’s round here someplace?

The golden hamster halted. Tis our lucky day, matesÑthere’s the leanin’

ash, dead ahead!

Some unknown force of nature had caused the ash tree to grow at a strange angle. A laburnum had caught the ash trunk in its fork as it sprouted.

Being stronger, the ash had forced the laburnum to bend. Together they formed a rough diagonal cross with their trunks.

Skipper placed his chin in the cross joint. All I can see is the sun in me eyes.

Churk shook her head at his efforts. Then try comin’ round the other side an’ lookin’ that way.

Skipper rubbed his eyes. That’s wot comes o’ bein’ born wid brains.’Ere, Sagax, you give it a go, matey!

The young badger took up his place on the other side of the tree. With his chin in the intersection, he gazed ahead. I’m afraid I don’t see anything except woodland, trees, bushes, ferns. No, sorry, can’t see a thing!

That’s probably’cos it ain’t midday yet. Shogg stared upward at the sky. We’ll just’ave to wait.

Skipper winked broadly at Log a Log. Wot would ye do without us otters, I ask ye?

The Guosim Chieftain replied nonchalantly. Share out yore vittles atween the rest of us, me ole mate!

Sagax brightened up. Vittles, that’s a nice idea. Thank goodness we don’t have Scarum along with us.

They dined on some of Friar Gooch’s oatloaf, which had honey and nuts baked into it, together with apples and flasks of dandelion and burdock cordial.

Triss felt better than she had in a long time, surrounded by good friends, true honest beasts. A sudden wave of affection for Shogg swept over her. She watched him joking and chuckling with some Guosim shrews as they shared their food. Good old faithful Shogg! He had been with her from the start, through thick and thin. It would be pleasant for them to live out their seasons at Redwall, with all its happy atmosphere and trusty companions.

The squirrelmaid gazed at her reflection in the blade of Martin the Warrior’s great sword. She could see in her own eyes that this could never be. Not whilst there was a single creature living under the yoke of slavery, across the seas in Riftgard. Drufo’s voice was still burned into her memory: Get away from’ere, Trissy. Get away! I ain’t goin’

nowhere! This is as good a day to die as any. Remember me, remember yore father. You’ll be back to free the slaves one day, I know ye will.

Now go, don’t waste the chance we gave ye!

As Triss gazed at her reflection in the swordblade, the noise of creatures talking, laughing and eating together blended into a fuzzy background hum. The squirrelmaid’s eyes were fixed on the bright blade.

However, it was not her features staring back at her; it was Martin, the Warrior of Redwall, whose strong, gentle voice echoed through her mind:

’Twixt leaning ash and poison gold, Trisscar Swordmaid, look, behold, What is sought by everyone. Now! Ere high noon light moves on.

Shogg poured out a drink for Triss, but as he held it out to her, she rose dreamily and brushed by him. Log a Log watched her go toward the two trees.

She looks like she’s sleepwalkin’, mate. Hi, Trissy, where are ye off to?

Shogg silenced the shrew hurriedly. Hush, mate, let’er be!

Triss’s odd behaviour caused the entire camp to quieten down, Churk whispered to Sagax, Look, the sun’s dead centre, it must be exactly midday at this moment!

Placing her chin in the treeforks, Triss narrowed her eyes, peering straight ahead. Then it was as if the spell was broken, for she became her usual cheerful self.

Leaving her position, she strode resolutely forward. Passing Churk, she gave the ottermaid’s ear a tweak and laughed aloud. Haha, I caught a glimmer! Go and put your chin in that tree fork, mate. Don’t look until I give you a shout.

Mystified, Churk carried out the request. Triss continued walking until she was almost obscured by trees and shrubbery. She halted at what appeared to be a hump in the ground. Picking up a rough, paw-sized pebble from the top of the hump, she began polishing it hard against her tunic.

Having done this, she replaced the pebble and called out, Churk, get your chin in the fork and take a look!

A short moment went by. Then Churk could be heard yelling, Yaharr! Great wallopin’ rudders, mates, come an’ take an eyeful o’ this. Trissy, me pal, yore a wonderÑhow did ye know?

Crowding round, the entire party struggled to get a glance.

I see it, the light, it shines like white fire!

Sagax and Shogg dashed through the woodland to Triss’s side. She was leaning proudly on a massive bulge with bright green liverwort moss growing all over it. Small, tight and curling fronds completely obscured the stone. Triss pointed to the rough rock crystal pebble standing at its centre.

1 saw it glimmer in the midday sun. It was a bit dull and dirty, so I gave it a good polish to make it shine properly.

Sagax touched the bulge reverently. So this big mound is the greenstone!

Churk ran her paws through the moss covering the stone. The rear entrance to Brockhall! But how did ye find it, Triss?

The squirrelmaid shrugged, her vision of Martin unre-called. I don’t know, really. Just a bright idea, I suppose.

Skipper gave a great belly laugh. Hohoho! Bright idea, that’s a good’un.

Lookin’ at that crystal pebble, I’d say’twas a shinin’ idea, miss. Now, mates, anybeast got more bright ideas as to’ow we move this big hump of rock?

Churk and Triss were already on all fours, doing a tour of the rock’s base. The squirrelmaid suddenly halted. Without looking up, she shot out a paw. Sharp knife, please!

A dozen daggers appeared like magic. She grabbed one, talking as she scraped busily away. Moss isn’t growing as thick here. Somebeast scraped it away a long time ago, but it takes a lot of seasons for liverwort as thick as this to grow properly again. What d’you make of this, matey?

Churk was at her side, inspecting the symbols scratched into the bare limestone. She nodded knowingly ’Tis that crazy ole alphabet again.

Mokug, get me that key I made, it’s in my pack. I’ll soon tell ye wot this says!

By the time they had cleaned off the stone sufficiently, Mokug found the translation and brought it to Churk. Using birchbark parchment and a charcoal stick, Shogg wrote the symbols as Churk called out the letters: turn halfway and slide south

Sagax scratched his striped muzzle. Turn halfway and slide south. Let’s give it a try, Skip!

Between them, both otter and badger possessed considerable strength.

However, they could not budge the stone a bit, no matter how they threw their weight against it. Triss could not help smiling at their efforts.

Stop pushing and shoving before you do yourselves an injury. It’s pretty clear that nobeast has moved this stone for ages. Wouldn’t it be better to clear the ground around the base first, get rid of all these weeds and rubbish?

Skipper blew a sweat bead from his nose tip and grinned. I was waitin’

for me niece Churk t’suggest that, miss, but I’m willin’ to accept yore solution!

Log a Log swept his rapier blade along the ground. When he pulled away the moss where the rock met earth, he heard a scraping sound. It’s stone, a stone laid on a stone base. Let’s get to it!

It did not take long for the efforts of the entire party to clear a wide circle. The Guosim Chieftain was right. Their work revealed a wide flat stone base, with scratches in it that had been made every time the badgers of old had shifted the greenstone to open the rear exit.

Streamwater and soapwort were brought, and they washed the base off and rubbed soapwort plants onto the stonework. Skipper, Sagax and Shogg tried this time. At first the greenstone refused to budge, then Triss and Churk lent a paw. The ottermaid lent a suggestion, too.

Try turnin’ it left to right, instead o’ right to left.

Skipper muttered to Shogg, Y’know, I think she inherited a double portion o’ brains!

Shogg stifled a giggle. Aye, but not from yore side o’ the family, mate!

The stone moved without too much difficulty. When it would turn no further, Churk gave it a healthy shove southward. It slid aside. Triss peered down a dusty flight of steps into the darkness below.

Welcome to Brockhall, friends!

39

Whidge had regained consciousness, finding himself bound to the stake in front of the serpents’ lair. He moaned and whined piteously, until both Ratguards and Freebooters were tired of his whimpering.

Tazzin shook her head in disgust. I wuz never too fond o’ that ole misery.

If’n’e keeps that weepin’ up, I’ll finish’imoff meself!

Kurda gave Riggan a sly wink before she answered Tazzin. No, no, mine friend, ve need ‘im alive or der serpents might lose de interest, den ve get no booty. Keep der rat quiet, but don’t slay ‘im.

Tazzin crept out from cover. Hurling herself on Whidge, she gagged the wretched searat with his own broad belt. There, that’ll keep ye quiet.

You just lie there an’ wiggle about a bitÑI’ll see ye get yore share o’ the loot!

Whidge lay wide-eyed, staring into his former shipmate’s hard features.

The only noise he could make was Mmfff!

Tazzin patted him reassuringly Aye, that’s the stuff, but mind now, if’n ye get much noisier’n that ... well. She licked the blade of her knife, grinned wickedly at him and departed to hide behind a sycamore with Grubbage.

Kurda conferred with Riggan. Get dem finking about loot und booty an’

ve haff dose seascum on our side, yarr. You sure der serpents are in dere?

Riggan watched the door in the oak trunk. Oh, I’m shore, marm. Trackin’

that ‘ellish smell to yon oak was no trouble. Those snakes are in there, all right, I’d stake me life on it.

Kurda’s pink eyes were as cold as ice as she tested her sabre edge.

You better hope you don’t lose your stake.

The bright summer day drifted by with the pace of a leisurely snail, warm sun and humming insects combining to soften the menace that hovered over the still, green woodland. The stoat Scummy spread out on some moss behind an elm and closed his eyes. A nearby Ratguard prodded the Freebooter with his spearbutt.

Hoi, yore s’posed to be watchin’, not snoozin’.

Scummy opened one eye and glared balefully at the rat. Mind yer own business, I’ll do wot I like, see!

The Ratguard was slightly taken aback. Better not let Cap’n Vorto or Princess Kurda catch ye!

Ripper the searat curled his lip at the speaker. Wot are we supposed t’do, then, sit ‘ere to attention all day? We’ve ‘ad little sleep anardly a bite to eat. I’m gonna get some o’ those whortleberries growin’ over yonder. Yew stay awake an’ keep guardÑyore a Ratguard, ain’t yer? We’re Freebooters, we do wot we like!

As time meandered slowly by, summer cast its warm spell over the glade.

Anybeast out of Kurda and Vorto’s sight took advantage of the torpor and dozed off, crew-beasts and soldiers alike. Even Kurda could not halt her eyelids from drooping.

Vorto tried to remain attentive, whispering to Riggan, who was still watching through half-closed eyes, Those serpents would’ve showed theirselves by now if’n they was really in there. You sure you saw ‘em go in?

The tracker gave Vorto a pitying look. I trailed’em’ere. I never saw the snakes enter, I got’ere too late fer that. But they’re in there, all right.

Whidge was lying quite still. Vorto did not realise that the old searat had been suffocated by his own belt. Look at’im. Don’t seem t’be too bothered by it all, does’e?

Down inside the dusty gloom of Brockhall, Zassaliss slithered forward, pulling his brother and sister along with him. Ssssssoft now, sssssssilent! Let usssss sssssee what issss happening outssssside.

As they passed the mummified remains of their mother and King Sarengo, locked together in death’s eternal embrace, Sesstra hissed malevolently, The time hasssss come to make them pay for thisssss!

Leaving a rearguard of Guosim shrews aboveground, Triss led the woodlanders down the steps into Brockhall. It was gloomy and musty, with the awful odour hanging thick upon the still air. Sagax tried to keep his voice from echoing into the tunnel as he murmured to Skipper, D’you think we should chance a light?

The otter Chieftain mentally debated the point for a moment. A light could get us seen. But I think we should’ave one down’ere,’cos we need to see. Hmm, we’d be best off with a small’un that don’t flare up too bright.

Churk felt along the rough rock wall until she encountered a bend.

There’s one here, will this do?

It was a candle lamp, with a good thick candle stump in it. Log a Log set flint to tinder and lit it. Aye, this’ll do fine. The crystal glass is all dusty, but it’ll give us enough light t’see wot we’re doin’.

The lamp gave off a soft golden light upon an eerie scene. Brockhall, the once-legendary home of badgers and their woodland friends, was in a sad state of neglect. Cobwebs clung everywhere and tree roots hung like tentacles from wall and ceiling. The whole ancient place was deeply coated in dust, with sinister drag marks down the centre of each winding passage. There were side chambers, some with the doors broken down, others screened by curtains, which crumbled and disintegrated at a touch.

Sagax and Shogg entered one and looked around. It had once been a comfortable bedchamber, but now the wonderfully carved furniture was woodworm-riddled and broken. Snake-skins, shed in previous seasons, caused revulsion among the seekers as they burst and crinkled underpaw.

Out in the corridor, Triss called in an echoing whisper, Stay together, don’t anybeast stray off alone.

Mokug shuddered. Good advice, missy, I’m all fer that!

Log a Log placed a paw against the hamster’s mouth. An’ don’t speak lessen ye have to, t’ain’t safe in’ere!

Scarum strode blithely up the path, munching on a hefty apple-and-blackcurrant flan. Chuckling to himself, he cut off into the woodlands. Dozy old bunch, wot! Jolly impudent, too, I’d say. Fancy thinkin’ y’could demote a garrison commander to a drudge of all work, cads! Chap of my blinkin’ skills, wot? Didn’t take me a bloomin’ tick to escape that lot. Huh, starvin’ for three days on lettuce leaves an’

water, fat chance! They’d find my young wasted body dead after just two flamin’ days o’ that nonsense. Hey ho for the open air an’ fiddle dee dee for those old buffers. Join up with the chaps, that’s the ticket!

Comrades staunch an’ true, with lots of rations an’ so forth. Y’can’t go paw-sloggin’ without loads of fodder t’keep fur’n’scut together, no sah!

The incorrigible young hare strode jauntily along, armed with a pillowcase full of food from Red wall’s kitchens and a window pole with a metal hook on one end, his chosen weapon. With neither care nor conscience, he composed a marching song as he went on his way: I’m a one chap regiment,

Don’t y’dare stand in me way,

No Abbey cell could suit me well,

On such a jolly day.

O trampitty tramp I’m marchin’,

Stand fast the Buffs, I sing.

If I had a drum I’d go rumpetty turn,

I’d biff it like anything.

I’m a perilous hare y’know,

Just like me dear old dad,

A word’s as good as a blow, hoho,

Though some may think me mad ...

He paused and pulled a face. Mad? No, no, not the right word at allÑhave t’change it. Let’s see, mad, bad, glad, sad, old lad? Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one.

In the midst of still-shimmering noontide, the trio of serpents struck.

Everybeast was unprepared for the lightning move. One moment the glade was quiet and peaceful, save for an occasional muted snore. Then, in the blink of an eye, the whole scene changed. Zassaliss had spent the last hour inching the oak tree door open, fraction by fraction. Suddenly the adder saw that the way was clear. He hissed, Sssssstrike!

Together the trio of snakes boiled out of the entrance. Straight across the glade they rushed, with the mace chain clanking behind, right past the carcass of Whidge, whom they already knew to be dead. Crashing into the fern bed, they snatched a plump sleeping Ratguard, who shrieked as they seized him.

Kurda came awake immediately. Grabbing her sabre, she yelled urgently, Stop der shnakes! Arm der crew! Don’t let de serpents get back inside der den. Hurry!

To their credit, the Ratguards roused themselves swiftly. Vorto kicked the pile of weapons, scattering them as he ran by, shouting, You ‘eard the Princess, git yore swords, cut ‘em off afore they escape!

But the adders were faster. Bunching their coils jointly, they slithered backwards like lightning, dragging the feebly kicking Ratguard into Brockhall with them. Vorto paused momentarily, looking to Kurda for orders. Her eyes shone madly at the sight of the coveted Crown of Sarengo vanishing into the darkness.

In! In! Get in after dem, kill de serpents! Get der booty! De cowards run, dey are scared of us! In! In!

Tazzin swung a dagger about her head, fired by the mention of booty and the excitement of the chase. Did ye ‘ear that, mates? Booty!

Chaaaaaarge!

Both Ratguards and Freebooters piled into Brockhall, roaring and yelling after Zassaliss, Harssacss and Sesstra.

Skipper had just led the party into the big main cavern beneath the oak tree roots. Log a Log held the lantern up as the others stared in awe at the mighty structure. Then a deafening cacophony of noise filled the chamber: clanking chains, hissing, pounding paws and yelling vermin.

Before they had a chance to group themselves, it broke in upon them like a dark tidal wave. The three snakes collided with the Redwallers, Mokug turned to run, his head butting Triss under her chin. She slipped and fell, the sword kicked from her grasp by the milling paws of shrews.

Zassaliss spat the dying Ratguard from his mouth and, pulling the other two adders up with him, reared over the fallen squirrelmaid and struck.

Shogg hurled himself between them, slashing wildly with his spearpoint.

Zassaliss pulled to one side, attacking the otter with his poisonous fangs as the spear struck Sesstra straight down her open mouth. There was a roar like thunder breaking over the sea, as Sagax swung his battle-axe, leaping into the fray. Zassaliss ducked his head, and the big axe slew his brother Harssacss. Triss rolled over as the adder’s chin hit thefloor. Her paws clasped about the sword hilt, she sprang upright, driving the keen blade straight through the throat of Zassaliss.

Then followed a scene of utter chaos as the Ratguards and Freebooters came tumbling on them in the wake of the snakes. Both sides were confused until Skipper took out a Ratguard with his javelin and gave the battle cry: At’em, mates! Redwaaaaaaallllll!

Triss gathered in the vanguard with Churk, Sagax, Skipper and Log a Log. Backed by Guosim and Redwallers, they rushed the vermin, catching them off guard. Warcries rang out, echoing and bouncing off the walls of Brockhall as they drove the vermin back up the corridor.

Eulaliaaaaaa! Redwaaaaaalll! Logalogalogalooooog!

Spear cracked against javelin, sword clashed upon cutlass, rapier rasped against daggerblade. But above it all, two stood out: the young badger wielding the fearsome battle-axe, and the squirrelmaid armed with the sword of Martin the Warrior. They were like twin whirlwinds, slaying and roaring as they went. Triss was wreaking retribution for the death of her father and Drufo. Vermin fell before her like chaff beneath a scythe. Sagax’s eyes shone red in the gloomÑhe was possessed of the dreaded Blood-wrath, inherent to great Badger Lords of Salamandastron. Neither injury nor foebeast could hurt him as his awesome weapon swung into the vermin ranks like a windmill.

Tripping and stumbling, the vermin broke and ran in defeat, the Redwallers swarming after them. Their cries echoed off down the gloomy passage as Kurda, Vorto and Riggan sneaked out of a side chamber. Leaping over the carnage of dead and mortally wounded creatures, Kurda grabbed the crown from the head of Zassaliss. She slashed cruelly at the dead snakes, growling frantically,

Vere is der pa wring, dat is mine birthright!

Riggan jumped aside, narrowly missing the sweeping blade. It ain’t’ereÑye can see thatforyoreself,marm. Leave it, we got to get goin’

afore those Redwallers come back!

Kurda leaned on her sabre, breathing hard. Yarr, you are right, but I must find mine pawring!

Vorto, catching Riggan’s glance, interrupted. Yore’igh-ness, we can come back’ere when they’ve gone. Me’n’ Riggan’ll find yore pawring for ye. Come on, Princess, there must be a way out the back, or’ow did the Red-wallers get in? Can ye get us out safe, Riggan?

The slavecatcher nodded. Just follow the trail backwards where they’ve disturbed the dust an’ broke the cobwebs. C’mon!

Taking their advice reluctantly, Kurda put up her sabre and followed them to the rear exit.

Triss and Sagax threw themselves on the grass to regain their breath.

Vermin could be heard in the distance, pursued by Redwallers as they fled in ignominious retreat, scattering widespread.

Sagax picked up a fallen water flask. Taking a deep swig, he passed it to Triss. Whew, I can’t remember half of what went on in there. Don’t think I want to, really.

Triss stared bleakly in front of her. I can. I still remember the whip strokes I received from some of those Rat-guards when I was a slave.

I grew up with them!

Triss, Trissy mate,’elp me!

Dragging himself along on his stomach, Shogg emerged through the open door. Triss was at his side in an instant. Shogg, what happened, where have you been, are you hurt?

Without allowing him the time to answer, Triss poured water into the otter’s mouth as Sagax held his head up. The otter drank a drop, the rest trickling from his lips as he gasped, Snake ... the big’un... bit me neck... Triss, lis-sen. Kurda, still alive... Vorto an’ the slavecatcher, too... She got the crown... Gone out the back... Get’em, Triss!

The squirrelmaid saw her friend’s eyes beginning to mist over. She hugged him close, rocking to and fro, murmuring, We’ll get them, mate, together, when you’re better. But first we’ve got to get you to the Abbey. Malbun and the Abbot will know what to do. You’ll be all right, my Shogg.

Slowly the otter raised his paws until they held either side of the squirrelmaid’s face. His voice sounded tired. Too late fer that, me old matey.... Promise me, Triss, promise me ye’ll go back to Riftgard an’ free the slaves. That’s wot we were always goin’ t’do, wasn’t it?

Her tears spilled onto his paws as she looked into his eyes. Aye, right from that day we stole the boat and escaped. That’s what we vowed and that’s what I’ll do, you know that.

Shogg smiled. That was a day to remember, eh, Triss? The first slaves ever to escape from Riftgard. The otter’s eyes looked away from Triss, over her shoulder. Welfo, liddle maid, wot are ye doinere? Did ye come all the way from Peace Island t’see me?’Tis kind of ye, mate.

Shogg’s eyes closed and his head lolled loosely to one side. Sagax gently prised the otter’s paws from Triss’s cheeks.

Triss stared in disbelief at the badger. Shogg ... you’re not...

The young badger picked Shogg carefully up. He held him like a babe, blinking back huge tears. I’ll let him rest in the shade of that oak.

When the others get back, we’ll take him to Redwall. Triss, I’m sorry.

The squirrelmaid just sat there and wept. Sagax came back from his task and placed a paw about her shoulders. His heart has gone out across the seas to visit your friend on that beautiful isle you told us of.

Triss wiped her eyes with the back of a paw. I’ve known Shogg ever since I can recallÑwe were slaves together. First I lost my father, then Drufo, and now Shogg, the best friend I ever had, is gone. Stay away from me, Sagax, I’m bad luck to know!

The powerful badger heaved her upright and brought his face close to hers. I’m not leaving you anywhere, Trisscar. When you return to Riftgard and free the slaves, I’ll be at your side. You can take my word as a warrior on that!

Mokug and Log a Log returned first. With them they had an unhappy Grubbage.

The hamster and the Guosim Chieftain were desolated by the news of Shogg’s death, but Log a Log was not a beast to sit around grieving for long. He took charge immediately.

Mokug, tie our prisoner to a tree. Then stand by pore young Shogg’til our friends get backÑtogether ye can take our mate’ome to the Abbey.

Come on, Triss me dar-lin’, an’ you, too, Sagax. We got business t’finish wid that white polecat aner cronies. Weepin’ won’t git the job done.

If’n our matey Shogg was alive,’e’d be’ard on the paws o’ those scum right now. Wot d’ye say?

With her eyes blazing hotly through the tears, Triss tightened her grip around Martin the Warrior’s sword. You’re right, friend. What are we wasting time for?

Sagax shouldered his formidable battle-axe. I’m with you!

Throwing caution to the winds, they lit a torch of pine and brushwood and marched boldly into Brockhall. Through the carnage of the battle they strode, ready for anything.

As Log a Log passed the trio of slain serpents, he commented harshly, Yore killin’ seasons are done. Moss-flower’s air will smell sweeter without ye!

As Sagax mounted the steps to the greenstone exit, a shrew voice challenged him gruffly: Who goes there? Show yoreself!

The four Guosim guards they had left behind were in a sorry state. One lay dead, two were unconscious and the remaining shrew was wounded, though not badly. He pointed west into the woodlands.

Three of ‘em, Chief, the white ‘un an’ two rats. They pretended they was surrenderin’ an’ tricked us. Let me go with ye.

Log a Log applied a hasty bandage of dockleaves and grass to his clanbeast’s injured side and made him comfortable. You stay ‘ere an’

do wot ye can for yore mates. You’d only slow us down. Don’t fret, well get ‘em for ye!

Riggan halted on the bank of a small, shady lake and sat down gratefully.

This’ll do, we’ll rest ‘til nightfall. Then if’n you still want t’go back for that pawring, things should be quieter at that Brock’all place, marm. That’s if’n ye want t’go, of course.

Kurda was polishing the crown with some dried moss. She breathed on it and rubbed busily, admiring the way the light caught the heavy gold circlet with its two large jetstones. The Pure Ferret paused and glared regally at her slavecatcher. Dere is no question, I must return to dat place und find mine pawring. Vorto, go und get somet’ink for your queen to eat. I am hungry!

Saluting with his spear, the Ratguard Captain obeyed. Riggan, the more forward of the two, commented drily, So ye ain’t a princess no more, marmÑ’tis Queen now, eh?

Kurda drew her sabre. Sliding the crown over its blade, she held them both out to Riggan. I am Queen by right und conquest. If you vant to be Queen, all you haff to do is lift der crown from dis sabre blade.

Riggan chuckled nervously, knowing what would happen the second she reached out to touch the crown. Wot gave ye the idea I want t’be Queen, marm? My duty is to serve you an’ yore father, Agarnu. Er, wot about

‘im?

Kurda’s eyes narrowed, and she giggled like a naughty infant. Dat von-legged fool? I giff him der same offer I make to you, mine friend.

Yarr, I vill be Queen of all Rift-gard!

Vorto came stealing furtively back to the lake bank.

Kurda gave him a questioning look. Vere is der food I send you for?

The Ratguard Captain placed a paw to his lips. Not so loud, yore ‘ighness, I just seen somethin’. D’yer remember that big rabbit at Redwall Abbey, the one who snared our guards in a net an’ whacked ‘em? I saw ‘im by chance out in the woodlands, but ‘e didn’t see me, ane’s comin’ this way!

Kurda’s face was the picture of smug self-satisfaction. I remember dat von. Hide now, ve vill ambush ‘im!

40

Scarum was lost. Between stopping to eat, napping, and composing heroic ballads about himself, the young hare had wandered willy-nilly through Mossflower and missed all trace of his friends. But he was not unduly bothered; anything was better than skivvying at Redwall on a restricted diet. He rambled on, holding a lively conversation with himself.

Lost? Oh come off it, old sport, a chap of my perfect qualities is never lost, wot! I’ll wager anythin’ that pretty soon I’ll hear Sagax shoutin’

it’s time for lunch. Huh, that stripeheaded baritone pal o’ mine has a voice like a bloomin’ bushel o’ bullfrogs, lets the whole world know when he’s hungry. Not like me, of course, the tiniest whisper is all I jolly well give when it’s time for the old nosebag. Not one to yell about scoff, never was!

He caught sight of the pond with a loud whoop. What ho! Fresh clean cool water, just the thing for a growin’ hare. Hope there’s some o’

those flippin’ tasty little watershrimp whizzin’ about in there, wot wot?

Scarum crouched in the shallows, making the most outrageous guzzling noises as he sucked up lakewater. He belched and wiggled both footpaws.

Capital stuff, water! Fills the old turn, drives away the drought, an’

cools off one’s weary paws. Not as tasty as strawberry fizz, but it’ll do at a pinch, eh wot!

Glancing down at the shaded surface, he saw the reflections of Kurda, Vorto and Riggan standing behind him. Catching sight of a flashing sabre blade, Scarum went into quick action. Grabbing his window pole, he did a straightforward roll into the lake. Twisting about, he came up almost waist deep, facing them with his weapon at the ready.

Bounders, what did your mothers tell you about sneakin’ up on a body, eh? Jolly bad form, if y’ask me!

Kurda grinned out through clenched teeth. Gedd ‘im out, Vorto!

The Ratguard waded in, thrusting with his spear. Scarum countered with his metal hooked window pole, landing Vorto a thwack on one ear which set his head ringing.

Kurda shoved Riggan forward. Don’t shtand dere! ‘Elp Vorto!

Scarum knew he was in trouble. The only advantage he had was the water at his back. Vorto and Riggan moved apart, getting on either side and outflanking their quarry. The young hare swung his pole left and right, beating off the menace of the spears, which were shorter than his weapon.

Kurda stood on the bank, waiting, knowing he could not keep his defence up for any length of time.

After a while Scarum began to flag. The pole fell lower until it was splashing the water at each stroke. Posturing, with the sabre point held forward, Kurda entered the lake, wading forward toward her victim.

The hare thrust at her with his pole, leaving his sides momentarily unguarded. Riggan swung her spear powerfully, catching Scarum a hard blow to the back of his head and knocking him senseless. Kurda retreated swiftly from the lake, not liking having her footpaws wet. I hope you haff not slayed ‘im. Pull der rabbit ashore. He vill die bit by bit, yarr!

Ô

Scarum’s skull throbbed remorselessly. He opened his eyes to find the earth had turned upside down. Riggan was squatting nearby, chewing on a half-ripe pear. She winked at the young hare. Yore goin’ to wish I’d finished yer off in the lake!

Craning his neck painfully upward, Scarum saw that he was bound by both footpaws, suspended from the limb of an alder tree. Riggan gave him a push, which set him swinging. The rabbit’s awake now, marm!

Kurda had been honing her blade on a stone. She came over and stood in front of her prisoner, Scarum decided that he had better mind his manners. Er, good day to you, madam.

The Pure Ferret clipped the top from a rush with an expert flick of the sabre. I am not der madam, I am Queen Kurda of Riftgard. Nobeast in all der Nort’lands has mine skill mitt der sabre/’

Scarum tried a warm smile. Pleased t’meet you, I’m sure, skilful with the old sabre, wot. Need lots o’ practice for that sort o’ thing, I’ll wager.

Kurda brought the point to rest against Scarum’s nose. Oh yarr, lots of practice, I alvays practice. Sometimes mitt turnips, but dat’s no fun. I like to practice mitt mine sabre on livink beasts.

Scarum gulped. Actually I come from a jolly long line of turnipsÑa dull bunch we are. Er, haha, you should see my old granny turnip, she’s really goin’ to seed this season!

The sabre flicked sideways, shearing the whiskers from one side of Scarum’s face. Kurda narrowed her eyes. First de whiskers, den de ears, von at a time. Ve haff all day to play diss liddle game, yarr?

Scarum could see by the way Riggan and Vorto turned their faces away that his time had come. He dropped all pretences and snarled at his tormentor, Then do your worst, you milk-furred scum, I’ll see you at Hellgates one day. Aye, and I won’t be helpless then!

Scarum raised his voice and yelled out the old Sala-mandastron war cry, hoping to go out bravely. Eualiiii-iaaaa! Blood’n’vinegar, chaps!

Eulaliiiiiiaaaaa!

Kurda’s sabre was upraised when suddenly there came a huge booming answer, which she knew was no echo.

Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa! We’re coming! Eulaliiiiiiaaaaaa!

Crashing through the shallows of the lakeshore, Sagax came thundering towards Kurda, swinging his massive battle-axe in one paw. On the bank alongside him, Log a Log and Triss ran their hardest to keep up with him.

Kurda screeched to Vorto and Riggan, Shtop dem, quick!

She had her back to Scarum. Swinging himself forward, he grabbed her around the back of her neck and hung on grimly. Riggan turned to run away, but Log a Log’s rapier, hurled like a javelin, stopped her for good.

Triss put on a turn of speed, shouting at Sagax as she passed him, The white one’s mine!

Vorto’s spear snapped like a twig as Sagax bulled him into the lake.

The battle-axe cleaved midair, water, and the Ratguard Captain, all in one stroke.

Kurda was struggling wildly in Scarum’s grip as Triss went bounding by, leaping like an acrobat. Her sword sheared the rope from the alder branch, dropping Scarum onto Kurda. They both went down in a huddle, and the sabre was knocked from Kurda’s grasp. She reached for it, only to find a footpaw resting heavily on the blade. Scarum extricated himself and scrambled free.

Triss stepped away from the blade and stood over Kurda. The squirrelmaid’s voice shook with pent-up rage as she grated at her foe, Remember me, Princess? I used to throw turnips up for you to practice on. I’m the escaped slave who stole your ship. Well, you’ve chased me across the great seas, and now you’ve found me. Pick up that sabre, stand and face me!

It was the first time in her life Kurda had faced a creature that was armed and ready for her. The others had never been a problem. They were usually bound and helpless, and she had always been surrounded by Ratguards to protect her. A chill of fear ran through the Pure Ferret.

Rising slowly Kurda picked up her sabre. Triss circled her, the point of Martin’s sword weaving and flickering about her sworn enemy, taunting her.

My father was Rocc Arrem, the greatest swordmaster in all the Northlands.

He was slain by your family, with arrows, because they feared him. You slew his friend Drufo, who was old and weak. I watched you kill him.

So now, let’s see what murdering one old creature and chopping lots of turnips has taught you, coward!

Triss deliberately lowered her sword. Kurda tried a swift sabre slash at her opponent’s head. Like lightning Martin’s sword came into play, whipping through the basket-hilted sabreguard and flicking the weapon out of Kurda’s paw. Triss moved back a pace. Pick it up and try again, turnip chopper!

Kurda felt her paws shaking as she retrieved her sabre. This time Triss allowed her two thrusts before disarming her with a similar swift twist.

Log a Log murmured admiringly to Sagax, Great seasons, I never saw anybeast that good with a blade!

Kurda dived to grab back her sabre, panic-stricken. Triss slapped the flat of her blade across the Pure Ferret’s rump, admonishing her like a clumsy novice. I never told you to pick it up again. Tell me, how does it feel, being treated like a slave?

Triss contemptuously turned her back and walked away. Kurda’s anger at the way she was being treated overcame fear. She grabbed the heavy sabre with both paws and charged screeching at Triss’s unprotected back.

The squirrelmaid skipped to one side as the sabrepoint buried itself in the earth. Triss whirled and struck the blade with all her might.

It was a sturdy sabre, but no match for the great sword of Martin the Warrior. There followed a loud metallic clang as the sabre snapped in two halves.

Kurda stood shocked, staring at the broken weapon in her paws. Then she ran for her life. Triss sped after her, yelling, You can run, but there’s nowhere you can hide, coward. I’ll get you!

Kurda looked back as she ran full pelt, to see Triss hot on her trail.

It was a fatal mistake. The Pure Ferret tripped on a protruding tree root and slammed down heavily on the lake bank. She was lying curled up and still when Triss reached her. Triss saw the broken sabre blade, which was still held tight in both of her enemy’s paws. Kurda had fallen onto the broken blade. She stared up at the squirrel-maid through dead eyes.

Sagax picked up the Crown of Sarengo from where it had fallen and gave it to Triss. I think this belongs to you now.

Bitter tears welled in the squirrelmaid’s eyes as she sat gazing at her slain foe. She cheated me of my revenge! Log a Log gently removed the sword from her grasp. No, she never, Trissy. You defeated’er, fair’n’square!

Grasping the shrew’s paw, Triss pulled herself upright. But she killed herself by accident.

Placing the sword back over Triss’s shoulder, the Gu-osim Chieftain shook his head firmly. Wot would ye’ave done if’n you caught up with’er, eh? Made Kurda fight on wid a broken blade? No, matey, that’s not yore style. You couldn’t slay a beast in cold blood, ain’t that right, Sagax?

Aye, right, friend. Kurda lived and died like a coward: running away.

Think about it, Triss, you wouldn’t allow yourself to dishonour Martin’s sword by using it to slay that gutless craven when she wasn’t properly armed. You aren’t a killerÑthere’s a lot more to you than that. Martin chose you for the creature you are, right?

Triss tucked the crown into her belt. Thank you for your kind words, SagaxÑyou are right!

Log a Log threw a paw about her shoulders. Of course’e is. Come on, let’s go home, Trisscar Swordmaid.

Scarum came hopping up, rubbing a bruised forehead. I say, chaps, would somebeast mind cuttin’ this confounded rope off me footpaws? It’s tight as blazes!

Sagax took a mighty swing with his battle-axe. Eulali-iiaaa!

The hare closed his eyes and winced as the axe chopped clean through the ropes that bound his footpaws together. He tossed the rope ends huffily into the lake. Great big showoff, y’nearly left me pawless.

Oh, an’ you, too, miss. Y’might have taken the trouble to cut a chap down properly. Leapin’ about an’ choppin’ with that sword. Just look at this bloomin’ wound on me bonceÑI fell right on top of that vermin, she had a blinkin’ skull like a rock. Oh, woe is me, chaps, only half a flamin’ set o’ whiskers an’ my young good looks ruined by this enormous bump!

Sagax caught Scarum, none too gently, by his ear. I thought we left you to guard the Abbey. What are you doing out here in the middle of the woodlands?

Scarum suddenly forgot his injuries. What, er, oh that! Long an’

complicated tale, had whacking great injustices done to me, y’know.

Thought it best to relinquish command an’ join me old comrades, couldn’t let you lot face those vermin alone, wot!

Sagax growled menacingly. I hope you’re telling the truth.

The incorrigible hare put on his noblest face. Shame on you for thinkin’

otherwise, sah! Oh, er, I say, Triss, you’re a good-hearted type. Would you like to put in a word or two for me when we get back? Talk to the Abbot an’ Memm, an’ those other old fogeys. Tell’em how I found you three strung up by the footpaws an’ risked life’n’limb to rescue you.

Pretty maid with an honest face, they’ll believe you, I bet. But don’t get too jolly fancy about it, just picture me as a modest type doin’

me duty.

Triss could not help laughing at the horrified look on the face of Sagax.

She winked reassuringly at Scarum. Of course I will. And what about the three serpents you slew? Shall I mention them also?

Scarum clapped Log a Log on the back cheerfully. No no, old Log’ll do that, won’t you, me stout shrewchap. No need to go into detail, just mutter somethin’ about me tyinem up in knots an’ pullin’ their fangs out, that should do the trick. Er, Sagax, old pal of my Dibbun days, don’t you say anything. Lips sealed, keep mum, nod’s as good as a wink an’ all that. Be a strong silent badger type, wot, don’t say a blinkin’

word!

Both Triss and Log a Log nearly collapsed laughing. Hohoho, don’t say a blinkin’ word, eh?

Heeheehee, he’s speechless now. Just look at his face!

Scarum did. Huh, looks like a toad chokin’ on a tadpole, if y’ask me.

Yowchyow! Gerroff, y’big brute!

Triss and Log a Log sat dabbling their paws at the lake edge. They watched Sagax chasing Scarum, aiming hefty kicks at his tailscut as the hare fled, complaining loudly.

Wowch! Some pal you are, what’ve I done now? Woop! Where’s your jolly old sense of humour, wot? Owch, ger-roff!

41

Extract from the journal ofMalbun Grimp, Healer and Recorder of Redwall Abbey.

Joy and sorrow, sorrow and joy. There are times when the two go paw in paw. Sorrow for the goodbeasts we lost in battle, Redwallers and our friends, the Guosim shrews. There is always a price to be paid for peace. Though by Skipper’s account, the vermin paid the heavier priceÑvery few of them escaped to tell of their defeat. Yet the saddest picture that remains in my mind is that of Kroova, the otter who stayed behind to guard our Abbey. He and Shogg had become close friends. I was standing beside him on the walltops as Shogg marched off after the vermin. He waved to Shogg and shouted that he would ask Friar Gooch to make some shrimp’n’hotroot soup for them to share on his friend’s return. Poor Kroova, when he saw Shogg’s body being borne back on the shoulders of Skipper and Churk, my heart went out to him. Though Shogg was only a visitor to Redwall, that brave otter will be with us always now, resting beneath a shady willow by the pond. I awoke this morning and watched the sun rise over Redwall. In that stillness I felt the joy that peace brings. Our home, free from the threat of serpents and roving vermin bands. There is no feeling on earth to equal it!

Now, let me tell you of some extraordinary events. My friend, Abbot Apodemus, told me that he is allowing Martin the Warrior’s sword to leave Redwall! I could see clearly that Apodemus had been touched by the Warrior’s spirit. He assured me that one day the sword would come backÑhe was quite positive of it in his quiet way. So here is what will happen. Trisscar Swordmaid, accompanied by Kroova, Sagax, that rascal Scarum, Log a Log, Skipper and Mokug, together with a few chosen others, are embarking on a voyage. Before the summer is out they will sail to that land called Riftgard in the Northlands, far across the wide seas.

Churk the ottermaid, splendid young creature, is to take Skipper’s place at the Abbey. Her brother Rumbol has recruited ten other otters, all huge trustworthy beasts, to hold Redwall safe. These and a full regiment of Guosim shrews, commanded in Log a Log’s absence by Gulif, will stay with us until Skipper returns. I do not normally take to vermin, but the sole captive whom Redwallers took is a jolly fellow, and not at all unlikeable. His name is Grubbage. He is an excellent navigator, and will be going along on the voyage. Trisscar Swordmaid has sworn to free every slave in Riftgard. She has the bravest and best of companions to aid her. Good fortune go with them all.

Extract from the diary of Churk, ottermaid and Head Scholar to Redwall Abbey:

The feasting is done and our friends have departed. But what feasting!

Four nights and three days, the food, the fun, the poems and the singing.

Even the Dibbuns will remember it for as long as they live. Gulif and I accompanied the voyagers to the coast. We rose quietly and left in the hours before dawn. Uncle Skipper said that if we had not, it would have taken another three days to say our goodbyes and have even more supplies of food loaded onto the travellers.

Gulif is the proudest Guosim shrew alive. Just up the stream from where the ford crosses the path, Triss uncovered the most beautifully crafted small ship from its hiding place in a backwater. She presented it to the Guosim tribe, promoting Gulif to captain. It now goes under a new name; the strange writings have been blotted from its stem. Triss renamed it with one single word: Shogg! We journeyed down to the sand shores that fringe the wide blue seas. Grubbage took us to where a huge vessel was moored. We let Mokug rename it Freedom. So much food went aboard that Scarum wanted it called Scofftub. He was most disappointed not to be made cook, but Sagax would not permit it. It took a day to get the Freedom cleaned up and seaworthy again. She sailed on the evening tide. Gulif and I watched her go. We stood in the shallows and waved until she was out of sight, sailing over the deeps with a fiery setting sun turning her sails to crimson. May the wind be at their backs and the weather fair to speed them homeward one day.

Taken from the writings of Merola, Badger Lady of Salaman-dastron on the western shores of Moss/lower territory: This very afternoon a huge vessel sailed into the bay. Alarms were sounded; my husband, Lord Hightor, and Colonel Whippscut turned out the guard! Myself and the Colonel’s good lady, Dunfreda, watched from an upper window of the mountain. Imagine our surprise when our sons Sagaxus and Bescarum came wading ashore at the head of a very strange-looking crew! Well, we brought them all to the banqueting hall and the cooks went to work. Hightor and Whippscut kept pacing around Scarum and Sagax, patting their backs, calling them young rips, winking a lot, and enquiring about their adventures. But they are not young rips any longer, it is plain to see. In the space of a single season they have become warriors. They seem to have grownÑeven Dunfreda stopped wailing into her kerchief long enough to remark on this. They stand straighter, they even look perilous. My Sagax carries a battle-axe, of all things! I was astounded to hear that Memm Flackery sends her best regards and dearest wishes to me. We were the best of friends.

Oh dear, suddenly I feel quite old. But proud also, like Lord Hightor, to think our son has grown up as we wished he would: strong, honest, and true to his friends. Do you know, I’ve even taken a liking to that rascal Kroova WavedogÑhe’s growing up nicely, too. Scarum’s appetite hasn’t been affected, though he does look funny with half a set of whiskers. The stories I heard him telling his parents, he must be very, very brave! The pretty squirrelmaid and that fine big otter, Skipper, sat up almost all night, conferring with Sagax, Scarum, my husband and Colonel Whippscut. Unfortunately I had to take Dunfreda up to her room, as she was wailing so much nobeasts could hear themselves speak. She cried herself to sleep, saying it was because she was so happy. I fell asleep in the Colonel’s comfy armchair, overcome by the day’s events.

Next morning after breakfast, Hightor broke the news to me. Sagaxus is sailing away again! After being back home little more than a day, would you scarce credit it? However, I heard the full story, and I wish I was young enough to go with him. All those poor creatures across the sea, forced to live in slavery. My son and his friends will soon put a stop to all that, believe me. Hightor immediately put extra provisions and twenty veteran Long Patrol fighting hares aboard the ship to accompany them. Quite rightly, too!

My paws still ache from waving them off. I had to tear up an old bedsheet for poor Dunfreda’s tearsÑyou know how she always weeps. Both our sons assured us they would be back, if not permanently, then at least once every two seasons for a longer visit. I am sad and happy at the same timeÑit is all very confusing. Dunfreda and I hugged and kissed them so much, we got our gowns wet, standing there in the shallows. Skipper is the dearest of ottersÑhe would not let either of them aboard until they had said goodbye properly. I let Sagaxus go, because I felt I was embarrassing him in front of his friends. As the Freedom got under way, I had to borrow some of Dunfreda’s bedsheet. I could not stop myself from weeping. Hightor’s cheeks were damp, too, but he said it was seaspray. There they go, out onto the deeps, to who knows where. Goodbye, my son, I know you will make me even more proud of you than I am now.

Sagaxus ... Sagaxus ...

Section from the log of the good shipFreedom, written by Bescarum Lepusivold Whippscut, formerly of Salamandastron: Rotten bounders, the whole crew of’em! Makin’ me get my dainty young paws covered in blinkin’ ink. I hate messin’ about with quill pens, an’ parchment an’ ink. I’m a jolly good cook, y’know, but they won’t let me near the galley, cads! Oh well, as my dear old ma always says, make do with what you’ve got an’ weep a lot until they give you what you want, wot?

Right, here goes. We’ve been out at sea now for exactly, er, a jolly long time. All the landlubbers aboard have become pretty salty old dogs (which means they’re all done with bein’ seasick). The other mornin’

I heard one of those Guosim types yellin’ out from the crows’ nest (don’t know why they call it that, I’ve never seen a bloomin’ crow sittin’

up there)Ñanyhow, he woke me up with his shoutin’. Somethin’ about two points north an’ a tack west, an’ all that nautical jimjam. What the blighter meant was that he’d spotted an island. Bloomin’ great mountain o’ greeny blue rock glimmerin’ away in the sunlight. Triss called it Peace Island. Had to agree with her, it’s the hugest piece o’ rock I ever saw stickin’ up out o’ the briny, wot. We didn’t go ashore really, too many of us t’be clamberin’ up a whoppin’ great mountainside. But the chaps who live there came t’see us. Sturdy-lookin’ bumpkins, big healthy hedgehog types. Spoke quite oddly, I can tell you. Theein’ an’

thouin’ an’ thyin’, bit of a rum do, wot? But the scoff they brought with them, great fur’n’frog feathers! I’ve never clamped eye on fruit’n’vegetables so big an’ plump an’ tasty. A good old mammy-type hog, name of Downyrose, took a shine t’me an’ fed yours truly enough to stuff a tribe o’ toads! I gave her a kiss an’ a hug (got the old paws prickled a bit, but well worth it, I’d say).

Whilst this all was goin’ on, Triss is weepin’ an’ kissin’ a hogmaid she calls Welfo, an’ another young chap named Urtica, an’ a big old daddy hog, name o’ Bistort. They did carry on, though, all laughin’

an’ cryin’ an’ sayin’, Thou hast returned, welcome to thee! Nobeast seemed t’be payin’ much attention to the tuck, so I located a rhubarb’n’apple crumble, an’ let’em get on with it.

Naturally there were lots more tears when Triss gave’em the sad news about poor Shogg, but when she told Welfo and her friends about the pretty little boat named after him, it cheered’em up a touch. D’you know, I can’t stand that blinkin’ Sagax, he paces the deck with that flamin’ great hatchet thing, watchin’ every mouthful I take. Keeps remindin’ me that there’s others aboard, an’ that we’ve got the rest o’ the voyage to complete, wot? As if I didn’t jolly well know. I told him if he didn’t like it he could swim behind the ship with his axe in his mouth, keepin’ an eye out for sharks the rest o’ the way. Good job he’s a pal o’ mine, or I might’ve tossed him overboard myself!

N.B. There is a space in the log here, also several stains on the parchment, which look like blueberry juice, leek-and-mushroom soup, and an unidentifiable pudding with honey and nuts in it. Then the log continues on the following day.

Life’s flippin’ rotten at times, ain’t it! We’ve hardly been here since last noon, an’ it’s furl the anchor, lower the bilges, rattle your reef sails (an’ all that seagoin’ codswallop). We’re leavin’? All that wonderful scoff, those delectable dishes, that fabulous fruit, those ...

(what’s a word that begins with V?) those very very nice vegetables, an’ we’re sailin’ off, leavin’ the bloomin’ lot behind! Miss Triss is lookin’ pretty edgy, I notice. Even old chubbycheeks Mokug has gone all pensive an’ grim. I expect it’s’cos the next stop is Riftgard. Well, forward the Buffs say I, true blue an’ never fail. A perilous hare like me should gain a few medals in the battle to come, wot. I’ll show’em!

Not a blot on me copybook an’ covered in glory, that’s how this young hero will return. Wonder what the food’s like on Riftgard?

This ink gets everyflippin’where, I’ll have to change me name to Scarum Bluepaw. Righty ho, then, ship’s log finished for the day, gorgeous smells waftin’ from the galley Good cooks, those Guosim lads. Oh, that reminds me. Log a Log an’ Sagax want a word with me, something important probably, wot. I hope they don’t mention that blueberry-an’-pear pudden missin’ from the galley last night. It wasn’t me, I was never near the placeÑthis is ink on me paws, not blinkin’ blueberry juice. Bet it was Skipper, I don’t know where he puts it. Must have a hollow rudder. Think I’ll go an’ hide in the fruit locker for a bitÑpleasant in there, wot!

Bescarum Lepuswold Whippscut, Esquire, signin’ off.

42

The following is an eyewitness account by a sea ottermaid.

My name is Sleeve. I am a slave, born and bred in the fortress of King Agarnu at Riftgard. I know no other place. It is a hard and cruel life.

My mother and father died here when I was very young. We bend our backs to the whips of Ratguards, working from before dawn until long after dusk. We are always hungry. I was taught to write by an old squirrel called Drufo, who is gone now, slain by a princess of the Royal Blood.

It was he who used to recite The Slave’s Lot to me. I can still recall the words as he spoke them:

Bend your back beneath the lash, Straighten it and feel some more, Sleep and wake, work and starve, That is what a slave is for. Speak in whispers, never smile, Serve the masters, bow your head. The only time a slave is free, Is when that slave is dead.

Yet I can remember the first day I really smiled. The day when three slaves stole a royal ship and escaped. My heart leapt within me to know that they had gone from Riftgard and all its miseries. I charged forward, with no weapon but my paws and teeth, me and many others. We stopped the Ratguards from capturing those brave three. But then we were outnumbered, Drufo was slain and I was beaten senseless. They threw us in the dungeons beneath Riftgard and locked us there, starving for many days. Yet we smiled, we laughed, because three of our number had found liberty and lived. Later, I was one of the group who carried food aboard that monstrous Freebooter ship, the Seascab. I saw the Princess screaming with rage, vowing to bring the fugitives back and punish them.

I saw Riggan the slavecatcher come aboard with Captain Riftun. 1 saw the wicked Prince Bladd join the ship. My heart sank within me. How could three half-starved slaves on a little vessel escape such a dreadful force?

But hope lives in every living thing, even a slave. We would whisper together as we toiled all day beneath the whips, we would dream every night as we were locked inside to sleep on stone floors. Where were our three friends, Triss, Shogg and Welfo? Had they really escaped?

Were they living in some sunny peaceful place? I would join them in my dreams, wandering through summery green woodlands, singing and laughing, with plenty of good food, and soft mossy banks where they could lie at night. Gazing up at the stars in an open sky Sleep can be glorious freedom to a slave, if the dreams are beautiful. But then the guards come, banging and shouting. Then you are forced into a waking nightmare. We were put to work on the King’s new idea: a stone tower on the clifftops, where he could watch for the Seascab’s return. As we laboured, we watched also, hoping that it would never return, for then we would be sure the three had made good their bid for freedom.

Our new captain, Hydrad, used his spearbutt instead of a whip. Anybeast caught gazing at the sea got badly beaten by him, yet still we took the chance to scan the horizon whenever we could.

Then one morning it happened. Small at first, a mere dot out in the dawn light, but as it drew nearer, every slave fell silent. That ship, the Seascab, like a great dark bird of ill omen, was returningÑWe were swiftly marched down to the pier and jetty by the fjord. Messengers were sent to the fortress. King Agarnu was carried out on a litter, for he has become too heavy to walk on that false leg of his. Captain Hydrad estimated that the Seascab would make land on the floodtide and sail up the fjord. Spear-carrying Ratguards, freshly uniformed, were lined up along the route to the fortress. We slaves were forced to kneel at the Fjord edge in rows. Instructions were given. It was our honour to receive a day off work, and we were told that when the Seascab docked, we were to keep chanting, Hail Princess Kurda! Hail Prince Bladd! Hail Agarnu, King of all Riftgard! What choice does a slave have? As soon as Hydrad laid about one or two with his spearbutt, we started the hateful chant.

The sandbars and shallows at the estuary were deep under the running floodtide. The Seascab sailed into the fjord smoothly. Some of the slaves were weeping openly. I felt a lead weight inside my chest. Mental images of the three escapers being dragged in chains from the ship invaded my mind. Then I saw Triss the squirrelmaid. She was holding a magnificent sword. She was actually smiling! The hairs on my rudder still stand up when I think of how she raised that sword and yelled, Freedooooooom!

The deck became suddenly alive with warriors. Not vermin, but hares, otters, shrews and a massive young badger holding a battle-axe. Triss swung over the side on a rope, shouting, Agarnu, I am Trisscar Swordmaid, I have returned!

Then the warriors poured off the ship, which had the word Freedom painted in large letters along its side. Agarnu called to his guards to engage the newcomers.

Caught up in the fantastic moment, I found myself yelling Freedom/’

and rushing the guards who stood over us with whips. Then something heavy hit the back of my neck and I went down. Captain Hydrad was standing over me with his spearpoint at my throat. I was going to die. Magic happened then. I saw Hydrad’s eyes roll up to the whites as he gave a sigh, let go of the spear and fell across me. A sea otter like myself pushed Hydrad’s body off me. He had the nicest smile as he held out his paw and said, Sorry about that, miss. I meant’im t’fall the other way. You stick by me, I’ll see ye safe!

That was how I met Kroova Wavedog.

The Warriors made short work of the King’s Ratguards. The vermin were overwhelmed by hares and shrews, who gave no quarter and took no prisoners. I turned my face away from the guards with whips, who vanished beneath roaring crowds of slaves, each one wanting to get at them. Those guards paid the final price for their seasons of cruelty. But it was Agarnu who screamed loudest. The slaves who had been carrying his litter, groaning under the weight of their burden, waded into the fjord and set it afloat. It did not sail far before it sank into the deep icy waters. Agarnu was sobbing, I cannot svim, I cannot svim! I saw the badger holding Triss back, then the King of Riftgard went under and never came up.

We made a bonfire in the courtyard of the fortress. Whips, spears, uniforms and anything, including the throne, which had the royal symbol on it, were burned: cushions, drapes, scrolls, tables, chairs, beds, everything! Some slaves took a white silk bedsheet and painted on it, in green dye, the word FREEDOM! in large bold capitals. Kroova and I hung it out on two spearpoles over the fortress gates.

Food, we found food! Large stocks of it locked away in storehouses and pantries. Food that slaves had grown in the fields of Riftgard’s slopes.

Our cooks put on an amazing banquet. I was sitting by the bonfire, between Kroova and Triss, eating and singing. My face was hurting from smiling and laughing. Log a Log, the Guosim Chieftain, and a funny hare called Scarum followed Sagax down to the dungeons belowstairs. I was told later that the badger demolished each cell door with a single blow from his big battle-axe. The prisoners had to be treated carefully, for they were very weak and puzzled. When I told them they were free, some of them could not stop crying. We had to stop one or two who wanted to go back to the cells, afraid of what would happen if they were caught outside.

Mokug the old hamster came up from the cells carrying a small bundle.

It was a tiny mousebabe. Nobeast knew who he belonged to. Kroova and I took him, fed him and wrapped him in silk sheets. Triss could see we liked the little fellow very much. She asked what we were going to call him. Kroova never hesitated. Freedom, that’s wot he’ll be called.

Freedom!

Triss took a golden crown and a gold pawring from under her cloak. Both were studded with jetstones. She watched the baby’s eyes shining in the firelight as he gurgled and reached out with his tiny paws for the shiny objects. Triss gave both the pawring and the crown to him. She patted his head and said, Pretty toys, that’s all they are, pretty toys for a babe to play with. If he gets tired of them, let him throw them in the sea, because they’re no use to any other creature.

This account of what happened at Riftgard, I entrust to Skipper. He has promised to let others read it. I do this because I want to thank all those good friends across the seas whom I have never met. Without them I would still be a slave. The Badger Lord and Lady of Salaman-dastron, the kind hedgehogs of Peace Island, and the Abbot of Redwall, together with all the dear creatures who dwell at the Abbey. There must be others I do not know about, honest beasts, who in some way or other helped Triss to honour her vow and free the Northlands of tyranny. My thanks goes out to all of you. I hope the reading of my letter conveys the gratitude I owe to you. Drufo, Shogg, and many slaves who died so others could live in the sweet light of liberty, did not give their lives in vain. The memory of their courageous deeds will be with us always.

There are no more kings or rulers here; we live together as one great family, though everybeast seems to look to Kroova and Mokug for guidance, they having been out across the seas to other lands. Talking of families, with Mokug acting as grandfather to our mousebabe, and Kroova and I treating him as if we were his parents, we have our own little family, the four of us. We have a lot to learn, never having known parents of our own. But from what Kroova and Mokug experienced at Redwall, its way of life and kind treatment to all, I think between them they will make our home a happy place to live. Yes, Kroova is staying here with me. He is sorry to see his old friends sailing away, but glad to have finally made something of his own. Perchance we may meet again one day, who knows? I will often go to the sea. There I will gaze out over the deeps and think of you all. You, who have made us straighten our backs and smile. May your seasons be long and peaceful.

ÑSleeve.

43?

Written personally into the Abbey Archives by Apodemus, Father Abbot of Redwall in Moss/lower Country:

Autumn mists have given way to winter’s first frost. Our Abbey prospers in calm and safety. Normally I would lie abed a little longer, now that the mornings are cold and dark. But today 1 walked in my sleep! That is something I have never done before. It must have been the spirit of our Warrior, Martin. Just before dawn he led me up to the northeast walltop and left me standing there in my nightgown. Crikulus and Malbun joined me, having heard me pass by the gatehouse door. Those two! They had been up all night, studying the artefacts they gathered from Brockhall after it had been cleared and cleaned up. So we stood there in the silent grey fog, all three of us. I told them how I came to be there. Crikulus said that Martin had his reasons. We decided to stay and find out what they were.

Dawn arrived with a pale sun piercing the oatmeal-hued gloom. We heard creatures coming down the path towards Redwall. They were marching, singing a song to keep their paws stepping in time. I knew it was one of that rascally Scarum’s Salamandastron barrack-room ballads. He was leading the singing:

Straighten up those shoulders,

Keep your chins up, chaps,

Step lively in the ranks there,

Don’t ye dare collapse.

I know the road’s been long, sah,

We’ve all been far away,

But smile, ye laggardly, dusty lot,

We’re comin’ home today!

Home! Home! Home!

Wake up the fat ole cook.

Home! Home! Home!

You’ll see it if ye look.

We’ll kiss the babes an’ pretty ones,

Ring out the welcome bell,

An’ if the grub is good enough,

We’ll kiss the cook as well!

Hurrah! Hurrah!

Salute the Colonel, sah,

An’ pin a medal on me chest,

Three ribbons an’ a bar ... Hurrah!

The noise ended abruptly, because Scarum marched through the mist and straight into the wall. They had to carry him in.

And so our friends returned. We rang the bells until I feared they would crack. The whole Abbey was immediately aroused. Sister Vernal, Memm Flackery, Curdle Sprink, and a pack of squealing Dibbuns came running.

They hurried the travellers inside, served them hot drinks, bathed their footpaws in warm water and applied salves. I was not surprised to see that our Triss had come back. She presented me with Martin’s sword and told me to hang it up in Great Hall. I am vastly relieved that should we ever have need of a Warrior, one lives right here. Trisscar Swordmaid!

I think Sagax will stay, too, and Scarum also (if the kitchens can stand it). They said they will visit Salaman-dastron every spring, and arrange for their parents to visit our Abbey. I would like that.

Well, the feasting, the song, the stories they had to tell about their adventures! We did some laughing, I can tell you. There were also a few tears shed, but that is life, sunshine and showers. The main thing is that they are all home safe and well. Scarum is furious; he allowed Log a Log to trim his right whiskers to match the left ones, which were chopped off short. Unfortunately, Log a Log is no expert with shears.

He cut the right side whiskers too short. Now the poor hare has hardly a whisker on his snout, he looks like a bemused rabbit. But they’ll grow backÑtime heals all. Did I tell you Malbun is retiring, Churk is to become our new Recorder and Sister Vernal is taking over as Healer and Herbalist? Ruggum and Bikkle are training as bellringers. Dearie me, will we ever get used to being wakened for breakfast in the middle of the night? They are so enthusiastic, bless them.

So, here we are, back together again, all the old faces and one or two new ones. Looking forward to resting up through the winter. Fires and storytelling in Cavern Hole, wonderful aromas coming from the kitchens.

Harvest all in, October Ale not long barrelled up, and our Abbeybabes plump and healthy. Who could ask for anything nicer? And remember, guests are always welcome at Redwall Abbey, anytime. Here is your invitation.

About The Author

The cheers and cries of Redwall bands and their adventures have been heard around the globe, as storyteller Brian Jacques has explored the many worlds of the Mossflower mouse kingdom. An actor, a dramatist, a commentator for the BBC, Jacques has long had a following in England.

But it was the publication of Redwall, the first volume in the epic, that brought him and his story to the world’s children.

In recent years, Jacques has formed a dramatic company who have created audio presentations of his books. The Nelvana Company presents weekly, on PBS stations across the United States, the now-famous epic. And Jacques has invented another series, as different and magical as the first, in Castaways of the Flying Dutchman, an epic about a boy and his dog who, having escaped an evil ship, are destined to walk the world in search and aid of goodness.

When not writing or performing or commentating, Brian Jacques enjoys cooking, singing, taking long walks with his dog, and spending time with his friends and family at his home in Liverpool, England.