Triss

They hauled the hare aboard, joshing him unmercifully. Oh deary me, you got wet paws, mind you don’t catch a chill!

Hahaharr, wot about the sharks, mate? Didn’t seem t’be botherin’ ye as much as yore ole lizard pals!

Evening shades lay gently over a calm sea. Sagax was making a pot of vegetable soup and warming barley scones against the firepot. Scarum hovered close to the food until the badger chased him away.

I can’t cook with you breathing down my neck. Go and help Kroova to open that bamboo thing. Be off with you!

The sea otter was still struggling to release the stopper from the bamboo cylinder when Scarum, looking back over his shoulder at the supper cooking, tripped. He fell, cracking his head against the bamboo tube.

It split in two pieces, lengthways.

Ouch! Haha, I say, that solved your jolly old problem. Hello, what’s that?

Kroova unwrapped some greasy canvas from around the object that had been packed inside the cylinder. A dagger, just like that’n you got in yore belt, matey. Lookit the carvin’ on it. Well, ain’t that odd?

Same marks as on yore dagger an’ the stern o’ this vessel.

Sagax left off his cooking and hurried to join them. I wonder what it’s supposed to mean?

It meant little to Scarum, who pushed past Sagax and sat watching the soup bubbling. Huh, prob’ly means this soup’ll be ruined if I don’t tend to it. Good job that bamboo thingy wasn’t as hard as my handsome head, wot!

Kroova and Sagax ignored him. Mystified and puzzled, they both sat staring at the carving on the dagger handle.

12

Plugg Firetail had a reputation as the slyest, most bloodthirsty fox afloat. His ship, the Seascab, was the biggest Freebooting vessel in all the northern waters, crewed by the rakings and scrapings of vermin to whom savagery was second nature. Since dawn, Plugg had been watching the beacon burning on Riftgard Head. Seeing the signal fading from his stern cabin window, Plugg rose in high bad humour. Grabbing his long, skirted coat of plush green velvet, which had seen better days, he swung it around his shoulders and seized the huge double-bladed axe that was his favourite weapon. Sneaking purposefully up the companionway stairs to the aft deck, the silver fox muttered darkly to himself. The blisterin’ barnacles on this ship’s keel are more use t’me than this lardbrained crew!

An enormous, fat wharf rat, with no ears to speak of, was fast asleep over the Seascab’s tiller. Plugg halted within a pace of the creature and spat on both paws. Holding the axe sideways, he swung it hard, slamming the blade flat across the rat’s substantial rump. Splat! It had the desired effect. Grubbage, the bosun, squealed in pain as he let go the tiller and danced in a little circle, rubbing frantically at his bottom.

Yeeeeeowowow! Mercy, Cap’n, mercy!

Plugg took over the tiller, bringing his vessel about until it was headed for the beacon. He kicked out at Grubbage. I’ll mercy ye, y’great wobble-bummed grubwalloper. Didn’t ye see the beacon blazin’ yonder?

Tears poured from the rat’s squinched-up eyes as, cocking his head to one side, he rubbed away at his smarting behind. Wot’s that ye say, Cap’n?

Plugg roared aloud into his bosun’s face, Are ye blind as well as deaf, lardgut? I said, didn’t ye see the beacon blazin’ on Riftgard’Ead?

Grubbage pulled up both sides of his turban, revealing the severed stumps of both ears. Wot’s that ye say, Cap’n, somebeast eatin’ an grazin’

on a guard’s’ead?

Plugg leaned over the tiller, clapping a paw across his eyes and sighing deeply. When he looked up again, his first mate, a thin, gap-toothed weasel called Slitfang, had arrived. He was pointing excitedly at the beacon.

Haharr, lookit wot I jus’ spotted, Cap’n, someplace afire!

Grubbage looked toward where Slitfang was indicating. D’ye think somebeast’s’avin’ a feast? Roastin’ fish prob’ly, eh, Cap’n?

Plugg gestured to the two of them. C’mere, stan’ close together, right’ere in front o’ me.

They obeyed without question. Plugg banged their heads together hard, then smiled genially at them. Take this tiller, Slitfang. Keep’er dead on to that light, or I’ll tie ye to a rock an’ use yer for an anchor.

Grubbage, rouse the crew an’ tell’em t’make full sail. The silver fox padded back off to his cabin.

Grubbage massaged the side of his head in bewilderment. Grouse’as flew with a cake full o’ pail? Slitty, me old messmate, d’you think the Cap’n’s gone soft in’is’ead?

Slitfang was wiggling a paw in his ear, the one that had collided with Grubbage’s head. I wisht the Cap’n wouldn’t do that, it makes a ringin’

in me’ead.

Grubbage nodded agreement with his mate. Aye, I’d sooner be a-singin’

in me bed too. Oh well, s’pose I’d better order the crew to make full sail. Huh, I got to do all the thinkin’ on this ship, while the Cap’n strolls round talkin’ rubbish!

Soon all the motley vermin crew were on deck, hauling at the ropes to raise sails. Grubbage swung a knotted rope’s end at any who were slacking.

Come on, ye sons o’slopbarrels, put some backbone into it. Let’s’ear ye sing a Freebootin’ shanty, an’ sing out loud. I hates the way youse whisper yore songs, ruins a good tune!

The Seascab’s crew roared out the ditty as they pulled on the ropes in unison:

When I was just a young’un,

I left me familee,

Wid all that I could steal off’em,

I ran away to sea.

An’ me Cap’n cried’ooray,

That’s the Freebootin’ way!

I took a course in wickedness, At plund’rin’ I came first, In slyness an’ at thievin’, I was voted best o’ worst. An’ to anybeast I’ll say That’s the Freebootin’ way!

I’ll rob the eyes from out yore’ead,

If you ain’t watchin’ me,

An’ anythin’ that ain’t nailed down,

I’ll take with me for free.

Who sez that crime don’t pay?

That’s the Freebootin’ way!

When I rolls in to dinner, I smiles at all me mates, I robs’em of their grog pots, An’ vittles off their plates. An’ if’n they complain I say, That’s the Freebootin’ way!

If early in the mornin’, I’ears a bluebird sing, I fixes’im right smartish, Wid a rock from out me sling. An’ me shipmates laugh’n’ say, That’s the Freebooters’ way!

Captain Riftun was still breathing hard from his run along the clifftops.

Having made his report to the three Pure Ferrets in the throne room, he stood to attention, awaiting orders.

Agarnu shrugged. Tell der Freebooters to anchor in de bay an’ bring dem up’ere. Ve must bargain mitt dem.

Kurda roughly jostled Bladd out of the way and stood in front of her father’s throne. No! I say tell dem to drop anchor outside de bay. Den dey must lower der rowin’ boat. Only der Cap’n an’ officers. I not havink de full crew o’ scum inside here. Yarr!

Agarnu did not like having his orders countermanded, but he saw the wisdom in Kurda’s statement and nodded to Riftun. Yarr, it be as she say. Bring de Cap’n an’ a few odders. Keep dem under close guard.

Riftun went back to the headland, taking with him a company of well-armed Ratguards.

Plugg, however, flatly refused to trek overland to the stronghold.

Filling his ship’s longboat with almost a score of crewbeasts, the fox had them row him up the fjord to the jetty, leaving Riftun and the others to march back along the meagre shoreline.

Riftun watched the Freebooters disembark. Blocking the jetty with his guards, he confronted the silver fox.

Leave yore weapons’ere, you ain’t allowed to walk in armed to a meetin’

with the Royal Family.

Plugg drew his axe, smiling dangerously. Stan’ aside an’ give way, soldier rat. Where a Freebooter goes,’is weapons go too!

Riftun held up a paw. His archers put shafts to string and stood with bows drawn. Now it was his turn to smile. You’ll carry out my orders or die!

Plugg did not seem unduly upset. He gestured back over his shoulder to a weasel balancing a lethal-looking stiletto by its blade tip. See Tazzin there? She kin throw a blade faster’n yore eye kin move. She can bring down a swallow on the wing. So if’n there’s any dyin’ t’be done, rat, you’ll be the first t’go. D’yew reckon y’can get’im through the eye, Tazzin?

The weasel was a stone-cold killer. She replied coolly, Yerrah, shore I can, Cap’n. Which eye d’ye fancy, left or right? I kin drop’im afore they move.

Brandishing his axe, Plugg pushed roughly past Riftun, chuckling to the shamefaced rat Commander. Don’t never try’n’ stop a Freebooter.

Yore only a landlubber, an’ lucky to still be alive, I reckon!

Shogg had lashed the tiller, leaving the small ship sailing on a straight course. He leaned over the side, surveying leagues of white-crested waves in every direction. Nowhere was there sight of land. Triss came up on deck from the cabin below, and she answered the otter’s wordless glance. Welfo still looks pretty ill.

Shogg squinted his eyes at the far horizon. Stands t’reason, she took a bad knock from that slingstone. I ain’t feelin’ too grand either.

There ain’t a scrap o’ food or a drop of fresh water aboard this craft.

Are ye sure there isn’t just a liddle bit o’ somethin’ stowed away, a flask of cordial or a mouldy old crust?

The squirrelmaid stretched her paws wide. Not a single thing. They were going to provision her that afternoon, but we stole the ship before they could. While you’ve been up here I’ve searched down below again.

All I could find was a couple of parchment scrolls, nothing else.

Shogg tightened his belt another notch. So, looks like we can starve t’death in freedom, mate. Let’s go an’ take a peek at those scrolls.

Who knows, there might be an island somewheres not too far off.

As the ship had no cargo holds, the cabin was fairly large and roomy, but low ceilinged. Welfo lay on a bunk, her head wrapped in a damp cloth.

The hogmaid was sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning. Triss did not like the look of her, seasick, hungry and injured. It was a worrying situation.

Shogg opened the two scrolls, shaking his head with disappointment.

He rapped his paw on the first one, calling Triss away from her patient.

Will ye come an’ take a look at this lot of ole rubbish? Wot’s all this gobbledygook supposed t’mean, eh?

The squirrelmaid peered closely at the symbols neatly marked out in black ink, recognising only a few. This little bit here at the top is the initials of the Royal House of Rift-gard. A mouseslave who was a woodworker told me he’d carved it into different objects many times: R.H.O.R. See.

The otter traced the symbols with his paw.

Of course, that’s even carved into the stern of this ship. But what does the other bit say, Triss?

Gnawing on a pawnail, Triss studied the rest closely. I can make out the odd letter here and there, but I’m sorry, mate, it doesn’t mean anything to me.

She continued to stare at the symbols.

I can make out the R, H, and O a few times, but I can’t make head or tail of the rest. Let’s take a look at the other scroll. That may be more helpful.

Shogg grew quite excited as he viewed the other chart. Haharr,’tis a map! I know this bit,’ere’s the place we come from, Riftgard: There’s the strong’old, the fjord, an’ the sea beyond. Strike me rudder, Triss, this is one big sea we’re sailin’ on. I never knew there was that much water in one place!

Triss traced the charted line, which had been marked out on the map.

It came out of Riftgard fjord, straight into the sea, travelling due west, then taking a broad swinging curve southward. Farther down, land was indicated, but only one side of the coast. Then the route went south, taking a sharp dip east toward the land where it indicated what looked like a river running out across a beach. Triss sighed.

Well, it all looks very nice, but how do we know where we are in relation to all this? We could be anywhere.

Shogg, however, did not share her bafflement. See that compass drawn in the left corner there? The North Star’s marked clear, right over the north point o’ the compass design.’Ere, wot’s this? Is it a blot of rnk or a tiny island, just off the route line where it starts to bend south? Look.

The squirrelmaid rubbed the dark speck with her paw. Could be a blot, I suppose, or it may be an island.

Welfo moaned and rolled over. She was nearly falling from the bunk as Triss reached her and turned her back again. Wringing out the scrap of cloth, the squirrelmaid wetted it again in a shallow dish of seawater and bathed her friend’s face with it. Still completely out of her senses, the hogmaid licked at the salty dampness.

Shogg pursed his lips grimly. She’s got to’ave water soon, fresh water.

We all need drinkin’ water, or we’ll perish afore too long. You tend to the pore creature, Triss. I’m goin’ up on deck for a look about, see if’n I can fix our position.

It was fully night, with just a sliver of moon, like a silvery nail paring, surrounded by stars in a cloudless sky. Shogg sat at the tiller, his head thrown back, exploring the countless points of starlight that dotted the velvet dark skies in dizzying numbers. After a while, the otter’s neck began to ache, but he had made his decision. Pointing up at one bright, still jewel of the night, he spoke aloud to himself.

That’n’s the North Star, it’s got t’be!

Setting the tiller on course, he trimmed the single sail and began heading away from the star.

Triss tended to Welfo until the hogmaid lay still. So that she would not roll out of the bunk again, the squirrelmaid lay down beside her.

It was not long before Triss closed her weary eyes and fell into a slumber.

In her dreams she saw the sea, ever restless, wave lapping upon wave, murmuring with that soothing noise that only the vast deeps can produce.

Gradually she realised that a voice was calling her, softly at first.

Triss ... Trisscar, my daughter ... I see you.

A squirrel and a mouse were floating towards her, their paws not touching the water, which flattened itself to make a path for them. Although she could not remember his face, Triss knew that the squirrel was her father. She called to him. Father ... Father! He smiled at her and pointed to the mouse.

Triss felt tears spill down her face as she heard herself saying, Trisscar, I am called Trisscar? I never knew ...

The image of her father began to fade as he spoke again. Drufo would have told you ... When the day came ...

He faded altogether, and Triss was left alone with the mouse. She sensed immediately that this was no ordinary mouse. He was clad in shining armour and held a wondrous sword, the like of which she had never seen.

Not even among the best blades in Princess Kurda’s armoury. The mouse had a kindly face, although Triss could see the light of a warrior shining in his eyes. He reached out with the sword and touched her right paw gently with its tip.

His voice was warm and friendly, but stirring somehow. Trisscar, that is a name for a great swordmaid. Sleep, my little Trisscar. Sleep!

Then the vision was gone and she descended into the comforting darkness of deep slumber.

It was bright day when she awoke. Welfo was still sleeping, but her breathing was shallow and laboured. Triss hauled herself stiffly from the bunk. Her mouth felt dry as a bone, her tongue swollen and awkward.

Blundering up on deck, she stood dumbly, watching Shogg. He was sitting at the tiller, shredding the strands from a short length of rope. It was several moments before he realised she was there.

The otter blinked wearily. Jus’ seein’ if 1 could put t’gether a fishin’

line. Don’t know wot I’m supposed to use for bait. How’s Welfo t’day?

The squirrelmaid sat down beside him, drawing her ragged gown about her in the slight morning breeze. Hmm, what? Oh, Welfo, she’s sleeping.

What d’you think, Shogg, are we going to die out here on this great sea?

The otter continued picking at rope strands. Where would ye sooner die, missy, back at Riftgard as a slave-beast, or out’ere on the deep with me at yore side?

Triss managed a smile. She patted Shogg’s paw. I’d rather not die, if it’s all the same to you, mate!

The otter put aside the piece of rope. Aye, I want to live, too, y’know.

That’s why I’ve set us a course by the North Star. We’ll see if that dot on the map’s a blot or an island.

Triss stared up at the bright morning sky. But how can you do that?

There’s no stars about now,

Shogg explained. I located the North Star last night, sailed through the dark with it t’guide us. Right up till’twas startin’ to dawn. Sun rises in the east, don’t it? That’s’ow I fixed me position. With a bit of luck we’ll find yore blot, missy, never fret.

Welfo appeared in the cabin doorway. She was shivering and could scarcely stand up. I’m thirsty ... so thirsty!

Triss hurried to help her, murmuring to Shogg, Find water, if only for poor Welfo’s sake!

She hurried the hedgehog maid back to her bunk and laid her down, talking soothingly to her. There now, you have a little nap. We’ll soon get you water. Let’s take a look at that slingstone wound. Oh, it’s looking much better today, I’ll just bathe it with some seawater. There, that’s nice and cool, isn’t it?

As Welfo’s eyes were closing, she spoke to the squirrel-maid. Is your name Trisscar? Triss was taken aback. Yes, it is, who told you that?

Welfo murmured as she sank into a daze, You did, last night. Trisscar, I am called Trisscar/ You said it out loud. The dream came back to Triss as she stroked her sleeping friend’s brow. Trisscar, that is a name for a great sword-maid!

13

Redwall Abbey’s twin bells pealed out to the new dawn. Down in the kitchens, Friar Gooch ceased ladling carrot and fennel sauce over a batch of mushroom pasties he was about to fold and crimp. Furrel, his faithful molemaid assistant, stirred a potful of hot honey ready for candying chestnuts. She allowed the ladle to rest, smiling fondly.

Hurr, oi loikes ee bells, they’m wunnerful musick to start off’n a h’extra sunny mawnin’. Wot do ee say, zurr?

Gooch nodded vigorously as he opened an oven door. I say you’re right, friend, especially as’tis the first day o’ summer our bells are ringin’

out for!

Furrel almost tripped on her long cook’s apron as she trundled swiftly to the kitchen door and called out. Ee zummer bee’s yurr, joy anarpiness to all!

The Abbey bells began ringing out an extra peal, to welcome in the new season. Gurdle Sprink came bustling up from the cellar, puffing as he carried a small keg. Skipper, who was returning from his morning exercises, bumped into the fat Cellarhog and relieved him of his burden.

Belay there, mate, let me carry that for ye. Oh, summer’s’ere, joy anappiness to all!

Gurdle shook the otter’s paw, returning the traditional greeting for the new season. Summer is’ere, sir, aye, joyan’ happiness to all, an’

especially t’you, my big strong pal!

Together they entered the kitchens, with the Abbot, clad in a fresh robe of clean linen, shuffling behind. Friar Gooch and Furrel met them, with much hugging, kissing, back-slapping and paw shaking as they exchanged greetings for the jolly occasion.

Summer is here, joy and happiness to all!

The Father Abbot’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. And what, pray, is in that delightful-looking keg?

Skipper placed it on the table. Curdle took out his little screw tap and knocked it into the bung keg. Sister Vernal appeared with Malbun and Crikulus in tow. They carried a tray full of delicate rock-crystal beakers, tiny things, which tinkled as they touched.

Before Gurdle could answer the Abbot’s question, old Crikulus chuckled.

Wild-cherry-an’-redcurrant cordial, made on the final day of last summer. Good beast, Gurdle, I knew you’d bring it up from the cellars today!

The Cellarhog looked slightly nonplussed that anybeast should know what his surprise offering was to be. He grumbled. Aye, brought it up’ere, just like I do on the first day of every summer season.

Abbot Apodemus placed a paw carefully around Gur-dle’s spiky shoulders, smiling fondly. What would Red-wall do without you, my old friend? I’m sure this will be the nicest wild-cherry-and-redcurrant cordial ever tasted in our beloved Abbey!

The Cellarhog blushed to his spiketips as he busied himself pouring the sparkling cerise-hued liquid into the glasses. Kindly said, Father Abbot, Well,’ere’s long life an’ good fortune to us all!

Memm Flackery came hurtling in and relieved Gurdle of two glasses, which she quaffed instantly. A jolly loud hoorah for summer, wot? Joy an’

happiness to all you bounders, who never woke me t’say this was bein’

served.

I say, Gurdy old lad, this is absolutely toodle pip, well done, sah.

Congrats!

Foremole Urrm scuttled in and seized the last glass as Memm was about to reach for it. Yurr gudd’ealth, zurr an’ marms, ee summer bee’s yurr!

Friar Gooch bowed to the Abbot. Brekkist in the orchard I think, eh, Father?

Apodemus beamed. Why certainly, Friar, where else on such a day? I can’t think of a more pleasant place!

Memm Flackery interrupted. Only after you’ve sat in Great Hall an’ dealt with those dastardly Dibbuns who are on Abbot’s Report, sah, wot!

The Abbot’s face fell. He disliked dealing out sentences, particularly to Dibbuns. Skipper saw this and provided an instant solution to the problem.

Wot a mis’rable thing on the first day o’ summer. Bring’em up t’the orchard, pore riddle tykes. I was a Dibbun meself, y’know, we all were once.

The Harenurse cast a jaundiced eye upon the otter chief. Perish the thought, you a Dibbun? She shuddered.

Everybeast laughed at the indignant expression on Skipper’s face.

Seizing his otter friend’s paw, the Abbot hurried him off to the orchard gladly.

Thanks for getting me out of that task, you sensible ex-Dibbun. My my, but you have grown, haven’t you?

Beneath shady fruit trees, mottled by sunshine and shadow, Redwallers chattered merrily as they breakfasted at the long trestle tables and forms, which had been set up in the orchard by Log a Log and his Guosim shrews, who were enjoying a prolonged stay at Redwall.

Freshly scrubbed and wearing clean smocks, the Dibbuns were shepherded by Memm into their Abbot’s presence. Adopting an attitude of mock severity, Apodemus sat back, looking over the top of his spectacles at the two lines of apprehensive infants. He shook his head several times.

What in the name of fur’n’whiskers am I to do with you, eh? Dearie me, what have you got to say for yourselves?

Turfee the mousebabe stared hard at the ground. Rug-gum’n’Bikkle sez you gonna chop off us tails. It not fair! Roobil be a molebabe anim gotta likkle tail, but I bee’s a mousebabe wiv a long tail. Not fair, Farver Habbit/’

Apodemus weighed this statement, scratching his whiskers. Hmm, I take your point. What would you do with these villains, Skipper?

Brandishing his javelin and scowling savagely, the big otter confronted the trembling miscreants. Do with’em, sir! Do with’em! Why, I’d make the rogues dance twice round these tables singin’ Honeybee Soup. That’s wot I’d do, an’ serve’em right for their’orrible crimes!

The sentence was greeted with wild applause from the Dibbuns. Foremole Urrm took out a small moleedion and twiddled the opening bars of the jig, which was a great favourite with Abbeybabes. Ruggum and Bikkle deserted their seats and joined the little ones, prancing up and down.

Sister Vernal looked at them quizzically. You two aren’t on Abbot’s Report. You don’t have to do what Skipper asked!

Grinning from ear to ear, Ruggum replied, Hurr hurr, you’m troi an’

stop uz, marm!

Away the babes went, like a miniature whirlwind, jigging, hopping, leaping and singing wildly:

Mix honey with honey an’ honey in honey, Get a big pot here an’ pour it on thick, Honey, fine honey, so golden an’ sunny, We’ll stir it all up with a green willow stick.

Nod your head wag your tail,

Sup it from pan or pail,

Join up our paws an’ go round in a loop, Buzz like the bees do to flowers an’ trees, But fetch me a bowl of good Bumblebee Soup.

Oh bumblebee, don’t stumble or tumble, Come out of the flowers now, back to your hives, Fly back to your home, sir, an’ fill up each comb there, For granma’s an’ granpa’s an’ babies an’ wives.

Striped all with fluffy down,

Golden an’ furry brown,

Bow to your partner an’ yell a great whoop, Now form a square, an’ you may find it there, A bowl of your favourite Bumblebee Soup!

Right back to the first verse the little creatures went, paws joined as they whizzed around the orchard at an alarming rate.

Memm shook her head in despair. Will you just look at that villain Roobil!

I’ve tried to teach him the flippin’ words a dozen or more times. But will he pay attention, wot wot? Indeed he won’t. Rumpitty turn, that’s all he’ll sing, the little bounder. Listen to him. Rumpitty turn, rumpitty turn, rumpitty bloomin’ turn!

Foremole Urrm nodded admiringly as Roobil vaulted over his lap and shot off around the pear trees. Burr hoo, but ee doo’ave a foine turn o’

paw, marm. Thurr goes ee mole choild arfter moi own’eart, burr aye!

Malbun Grimp agreed wholeheartedly with him. Aye, I don’t think I’d be worrying about learnin’ words if I could dance half as good as Roobil!

Crikulus, who was sitting on the other side of Malbun, looked rather gloomy all of a sudden. He murmured to his companions, I don’t expect it’ll rain or storm tonight. That’s put the block on us goin’ out to search for Brock-hall.

Malbun pondered his words for a few moments before replying. You could be right there. But I don’t intend let-tin’ the weather, or lack of it, get in our way. All we needto do is to keep out of the way of those crows. Suppose I was to ask Log a Log and one of those big otters from Skipper ‘s crew to come with us. Surely a Guosim Chieftain and that hefty young otter Churk could get us through quietly, without upsetting those birds. Log a Log’s an expert tracker, and Churk is well versed in woodland waysÑI like her.

Crikulus nodded, keeping his eyes on the dancing Dib-buns. Good idea, Malbun, but don’t let anybeast save Log a Log and Churk know. No point in havin’ them all wor-ryin’ about us. We’ll slip off after supper, the four of us, eh?

Malbun agreed. Aye, after supper, but don’t breathe a word. If the Abbot finds out, he’ll forbid us to go.

It was right at that moment that the Abbot stood up and made an announcement. My friends, Redwallers all. It is my wish that we celebrate the new season this evening with a feast!

Everybeast applauded the good news wildly. A groan of despair came from Crikulus as he noticed that the two creatures cheering loudest were none other than Churk and Log a Log.

The ancient Gatekeeper sighed mournfully. They’ll never accompany us tonight, Malbun. We’ll just have to put the whole thing off until another time.

Malbun’s jaw set in a stubborn line. Not me, my friend. I’m going. Who needs those two to guide us? Look at us, we’re two well-seasoned creatures. Why shouldn’t we do the job ourselves?

Crikulus gnawed doubtfully at his whisker ends. Out in the woodlands at night, on our own. Dearie me, I don’t know, Malbun, I just don’t know....

Malbun, however, was not ready to brook excuses or arguments. Well, I’ll go alone. I’m not a Dibbun who’s afraid of the woodlands in the dark. Don’t you worry, I can fend for myself!

Crikulus clasped his old friend’s paw. No, no, I’ll go with you. This is a joint effort, y’know.

The Abbot was watching the pair. He commented to Skipper, who was sitting next to him, What d’you suppose those old fogeys are whispering about?

The otter spread damson preserve thickly on a scone. Wot, y’mean Malbun’n’Crikulus? I expect they’re plan-nin’ on singin’ their song at the feast, Father. You know, that funny one where they both dress up.

Apodemus turned his attention to a bowl of oatmeal. Yes, that’ll be it. I like that song, it’s good fun!

Throughout the day the buzz of excitement continued. Skipper and an assortment of moles and shrews went to lend a paw in the kitchens. Log a Log and some of the others vanished into the cellars with Gurdle Sprink.

Memm Flackery and Sister Vernal took the Dibbuns off to gather flowers and lay the tables. Foremole Urrm recruited Malbun and Crikulus to help him serve buffet lunch and afternoon snacks on the steps outside the gatehouse. Redwall Abbey became a hive of activity in preparation for the coming feast. Everybeast was busy and cheerful.

Memm and the Sister were hugely pleased at the way the Dibbuns behaved themselves. The Abbeybabes’ conduct was exemplary; not one objection was heard at bath time. They even stood uncomplaining whilst getting dried and dressed.

The Harenurse kept praising them as she combed and brushed each one.

Oh I say, J.G.D., you chaps, A and B the CofD.Wot!

Sister Vernal gave Memm an odd glance. What are all those letters you’re spouting, marm?

The Harenurse explained. J.G.D. means Jolly Good Dibbuns, an’ A and B the C of D? Thought you’d know that ‘un, Vernal. It means above and beyond the call of duty. Good, eh?

Lining the Dibbuns up and inspecting them, Sister Vernal nodded approvingly before dismissing the little creatures. Very good, right.

G and P and T.T.S.C.... O.E.!

Bikkle sniffed and wrinkled her nose at the Sister. Wot dat all mean, Sissa?

Vernal waved a cautionary paw under Bikkle’s nose. It means, go and play and try to stay clean.... Or else!

Crikulus and Malbun sat down on the wallstairs during a lull in their duties. Malbun murmured to her friend in low, frustrated tones, Did y’hear that, everybeast’s saying that you and I are going to do our dress-up monologue at the feast. Huh, that’s the last thing we’ll want to be doing this evening!

The ancient gatekeeper shrugged. Nothing for it, we’ll just have t’do it, I suppose.

Malbun’s eyes lit up as an idea occurred to her. Right! After the feasting is done, we’ll volunteer to go first with our performance. When we’ve finished, we’ll pretend that we feel tired and excuse ourselves. Nobeast will suspect us of leaving the Abbey then, eh?

Crikulus still felt slightly unhappy about the venture. Hmm, I suppose you’re right.

From its commencement at early twilight, the feast was a complete success.

Brilliantly decorated and lantern-lit tables groaned under the weight of superb food. Still warm from the ovens, fresh-baked breads with crusts ranging from gold to deep brown vied with vegetable salads, fruit junkets, cheeses, pasties, tarts, cakes and turnovers, plus a huge cauldron of the moles’ favourite, deeper’n’ever turnip’n’tater’n’beetroot pie.

There were hot herbal teas, cordials of all types and a barrel of Special October Ale on tap for the elders. Back and forth the delicious fare went from paw to paw amid banter, laughter and animated conversation.

Extra lamps and lanterns were lit as darkness fell and the entertainment commenced. Malbun and Crikulus performed their monologue, which was actually a duologue. It was a great favourite with all Redwallers, especially the Dibbuns, who had armed themselves with slapsticks for the finale. Malbun was dressed as a searat, with padded stomach and bottom, large floppy hat, brass earrings, a patch on one eye and a wobbly sword made from soft tree bark. Old Crikulus had garbed himself as a grandmother mouse. He wore a billowy frock, a lacy shawl and a fussy, beribboned bonnet. They strode toward one another, as if meeting on a woodland path. Malbun eyed Crikulus fiercely and declaimed aloud in a rough voice:

Here be I a searat fierce, an’ this to all I say, I’m evil, villainous, bad an’ tough,

Let nobeast stand in me way!

I’ve got two paws like iron claws,

Granite teeth an’ steely jaws,

I chopped me ole grandma up fer stew,

An’ I’ll do the same fer you!

Both elders and Dibbuns hissed and booed him heartily. Crikulus rendered the grandmother’s part in a quaky squeak.

I’m a little grannie mouse, frisky as a flea, An’ I say what ho, this is my motto,

No bullies dare mess with me!

‘Cos though I’m old, I’m feisty an’ bold, I’ve got twenty-two grandmice too,

I can spank the tail off any of’em,

An’ I’ll do the same for you!

Applause and cheers rose from the onlookers, with many Dibbuns calling out. Spank the naughty rat, grannie! Malbun rolled her eye and waved the floppy sword.

Hoho, liddle grannie mouse, scurry off to yore’ouse, Whilst I’m still in a good mood,

I eats a grannie fer brekkist each morn,

‘Cos grannies are my fav’rite food!

I’ll chop off yore tail an’ whiskers,

I’ll whack off yore nose an’ each ear,

Then you’ll be the lunch on which I munch, Wot think ye of that, me old dear?

The booing and hissing of the audience rose to fever pitch. Crikulus winked broadly at the Dibbuns to make them ready, then he began haranguing Malbun.

Hah, just try an’ eat me, an’ you’ll soon see Us grannies are tough ole things.

I’ll climb in your mouth an’ pull your teeth out, Then use your tonsils for swings!

But why should I bother to dirty my paws, On a sloppy great bully like you?

Here come all my grandmice, ahoy there,

Show this searat a thing or two!

This was the part the Dibbuns enjoyed most. Grabbing their slapsticks, they bounded out and began chasing Malbun, spanking away at her rear, which was heavily cushioned. Whooping and roaring, Malbun the searat fled the scene.

Crikulus whipped off his grannie bonnet and did a flourishing curtsy as the Redwallers applauded heartily Skipper and his two otters chased after the Dibbuns, preventing them from spanking the villain further.

Malbun came back and took her bow to loud cheers.

The Abbot wiped tears of laughter from his cheeks and congratulated them. Thank you, my friends, heeheehee. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen your performance, but it gets funnier every season. Heeheehee, splendidly done!

Malbun grinned ruefully, rubbing at her rear. Dearie me, those Dibbuns can really whack. I’ll have to get extra cushions in the future. Whew, I’m tired. How about you, Grannie Crikulus?

The ancient Gatekeeper mopped at his face with the bonnet. Ain’t as young as I once was, friend, I think we’ll take an early night in my gatehouse. You take the big armchair, I’ll take the bed. Goodnight to you, Father Abbot, goodnight all. Thank ye for a wonderful evening.

With the good wishes of everybeast ringing in their ears, the two old friends left the orchard and the continuing revelry of a happy Summer’s Day Feast.

Shortly thereafter, Malbun and Crikulus, cloaked and carrying a lantern apiece, left the Abbey and trudged off up the path. On entering Mossflower Wood, they immediately became aware of one thing: the silence.

Not a breeze stirred the still-warm air. The sound of night birdsong was completely absent.

Crikulus kept his voice to a subdued whisper as he remarked upon this to his companion. Strange, isn’t it? Not a breeze or a peep of anything about,

Malbun tried to make light of her friend’s concern. All the better for us, mate. I was dreading that any moment we’d hear the cawing of those rascally crows, but all seems nice and peaceful. That’s a bit of luck, eh?

Crikulus nodded wordlessly as they plowed on through the shrouded woodlands. He felt as if the atmosphere was not at all nice and peaceful.

A misty haze had woven a milky carpet around the trees. It was almost waist high, formed by the day’s heat turning the earthdamp into vapour.

The ancient shrew decided that everything seemed rather sinister.

Malbun trod on a twig. Its sharp cracking sound made Crikulus twitch nervously. What was that?

Malbun tried to tread more carefully to reassure him. Only a twig I stepped on. There’s nothing t’be afraid of.

Following the path they had travelled along previously with the Brockhall search party, they pressed onward into the woodlands, their lanterns held high, twinkling in the night like two fireflies. Now Malbun began to feel uneasy. She could not say for certain the cause of it, but a sense of foreboding hung over her. Crikulus was rightÑit was too quiet. Normally the woodland was alive with nocturnal sounds: owls, nightingales, insects, a healthy breeze rustling the tree canopy.

Just to reassure herself, the Healer Recorder spoke to Crikulus. We are on the right path, aren’t we?

The old shrew turned, his lantern light illuminating Malbun’s face.

She looked as scared as he himself felt. Aye, this is the path sure enough. Look, there’s where we stopped to have lunch and the crows attacked us.

Malbun found herself wishing that she could hear the caw of a crow, anything to break the oppressive silence. Fear and fatigue were beginning to overcome both creatures. Crikulus pushed through the undergrowth to the tiny clearing and leaned his back against a tree.

Let’s stop awhile for a breather here. My footpaws have gone all sort of wobbly an’ shaky.

Malbun hung her lantern on a branch. Not wanting to sit down in the mist, she stood alongside Crikulus. Well, where do you think Brockhall is? I know we’re somewhere in the area.

The shrew shrugged at her whispered enquiry. Could be anywhere in a wide circle from here. 1 haven’t a clue. I wish those Dibbuns could’ve remembered the way.

Slits of moonlight penetrated the trees, slivers of pale silver against the gloomy night. They stood wordless, each wishing they were back in the comfort of Redwall’s gatehouse. Though it was not cold, their dew-laden cloaks felt clammy clinging against them. Malbun removed hers first, with Crikulus following suit. A sound came from the grass nearby.

Crikulus whipped his head round in its direction.

What was that?

It was not an actual noise, more of a slight wet swish. The ancient shrew thought he saw some ferns tremble in a moonlit shaft. Then another sound was heard, from the opposite direction of the first one. Malbun held up her lantern, paws atremble as she peered into the blackness.

Her voice took on a strained, panicky edge.

Th-there’s another sound, like somethin’ moving through the grass towards us!

Then they smelt the odour, musty and bittersweet. It grew stronger.

The grass swished in both directions, then it swished behind them, getting closer. Crikulus’s voice was tight with terror. He swallowed hard.

That sound ... th-the smell... We’re being hunted by somebeast we c-c-can’t see!

Malbun felt every hair on her body standing up. The sounds and the vile, powerful smell were almost upon them. Her voice was little more than a petrified squeak. There’s m-more than one of th-th-them. Yaaaaaaah!

Dropping lanterns and cloaks from nerveless paws, the two ran headlong into the pitch-black woodlands, away from whatever was seeking them as prey. Blundering, bumbling, tripping, stumbling. Crashing through ferns and nettlebeds, stubbing footpaws on roots, they raced. Mists swirled about them, their habits ripping and tearing on tree branches that seemed to be grabbing at them as they passed. They plunged onward, heedless of any direction save that in which the unknown peril lurked.

They splashed through a small stream and raced through a bog, so fast that they hardly sank enough to impede their wild charge.

Crikulus grabbed the cord girdle on his friend’s habit as they fled across a clearing and into a pine grove. Overcome by fright, Malbun turned her head to see what was holding on to her. Still running, she slammed side-on into the trunk of a thick fir. There was a sudden stab of pain as a broken branch stub pierced her cheek. Then she fell down senseless. The ancient shrew collapsed by her side,his hoarse rasping breathsounds mingling with those of his companion. He scrabbled around in the dark with the clean scent of pine needles banishing the musty odour from his nostrils. His paw struck Malbun’s face. He felt the broken branch splinter sticking from it and the sticky wetness, which he knew to be blood, upon his paw. Mai-bun, are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you? Speak to me! Say something, Malbun, oh please, say something!

There was no sound from her. Crikulus tried hard to get a grip of himself, moving along until he had his friend’s head resting in his lap. They were not being followed; he sensed that they were out of danger. But they were lost. Malbun was breathing heavily, still lying senseless.

The wood had gone deep into her cheek. He set his teeth round the broken fir twig and rugged it free. Spirting it out, he tried to compose his nerves by speaking aloud.

There’s no real harm done, mate, though a bit further up and you might have lost an eye!

The thought of such an injury, combined with the memory of swishing grass and musty odours, suddenly sent the old shrew into a violent paroxysm of shivering and shuddering. His teeth clattered like castanets and his entire body shook uncontrollably. He sat there alone in the night, trembling and nursing Malbun’s head in his lap, weeping.

Didn’t want to come. Good thing I did. Couldn’t leave you on your own, old friend. Hope somebeast finds the main gate unlocked. I only jammed it shut with that stupid bonnet. Oh, say something, Malbun, say something.

Don’t leave me alone here like this!

14

Moonlight danced on the waves. It was a clear night and the breeze was running fair. Kroova and Scarum lay sleeping under the bowspace. Sagax sat at the tiller, taking his turn as steersbeast. The shoreline was still in sight as the Stopdog steadily plowed her course north. All the young badger had to do was to tweak the rigging lines and check the vessel from veering landwards. He was also tweaking his conscience, trying not to think too hard about his mother and father back home at Salamandastron. Sagax had an idea that his parents had secretly allowed him to leave and go roaming; it was customary with young male badgers.

Yet somehow he had a feeling that he and Scarum had forced the issue through their rebellious behaviour. He decided that when they did eventually return home, he would become the model of good behaviour and obedience. Sagax chuckled to himself. But for now he would enjoy being a runaway!

Sitting there musing, he became aware of a flickering light coming across the waves toward the Stopdog. He sat, calmly watching until it appeared as a small boat with a tiny sail and two occupants. Hastily he roused Scarum and Kroova.

Wakey, wakey, you two sleeping beauties, we’ve got company coming.

Better arm ourselves in case they’re unfriendly.

Kroova took the cutlass. Scarum tossed a dagger to Sagax, clenching the other one between his teeth.

Trying hard to look fierce, he scowled. Haharr, buckoes! Woe to anybeast who crosses the path o’ Scarum the jolly wild tailslitter, wot!

The boat pulled alongside the Stopdog. It was crewed by a sleek grey seal and an old female sea otter. She sat calmly and cast an eye over the three, smiling at the sight of Scarum, who was trying to keep the dagger in his mouth whilst scowling around it.

Barnacles’n’binnacles! Will ye look at that pudden-headed young rabbit.

What’n the name o’ flukes’n’fishes are ye tryin’ to do, chop yore own tongue out?

Sagax could see that they were friendly. He extended a paw to help the sea otterwife aboard the Stopdog. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he did chop his tongue off, marm, it’d give us all a bit of peace. I’m Sagax.

The sea otterwife seized his paw in a grip that belied her many seasons and leapt sprightly aboard. My name’s Raura Shellrudd, pleased t’meet ye. That there seal is Slippo, me ole shipmate. Ahoy there, seadog, wot d’they call you?

Kroova winced as she shook his paw mightily. They calls me Kroova, marm, an’ that longeared scoffbag, well, y’can call’im anything, as long as ye don’t call’im late fer supper.

Scarum spat out the dagger, spluttering, Now see here, you two wavewallopers. One, I’m not a bloomin’ rabbit, an’ two, my name is Bescarum Lepuswold Whippscut, but you may call me Scarum. Tut rut, dear lady, no need for apologies, wot!

Raura shook his paw until Scarum flinched visibly. Wasn’t goin’ to apologise, matey. Kroova, I’m surprised at you. Yore no landlubberÑcan’t ye see a risin’ spring tide approachin’? Yore ship’ll get pounded t’splinters on the shore rocks if’n ye stays on this course, eh, Slippo?

Raising a shiny webbed paw, the grey seal called out, Room, kahonk woopa buhonk!

Scarum blinked at the seal. I say, what’s all that flippin’ great honkin’

row supposed t’mean?

Raura took a ropeline from Slippo and secured the prow of her boat to the stern of the Stopdog.

That ain’t no honkin’ row. Slippo’s just agreein’ with me. Shift yoreself, Sagax, I’ll take that tiller. Ye can come to our den an’ shelter from the’igh tide. I take it ye ain’t backward in coming forward if I was to offer youse a bite or two o’ supper, eh?

Scarum bowed gallantly to the sea otterwife. Beauty combined with brains, m’dear, a rare combination in these watery parts, wot. Supper! The word hangs on the bally night air like a lingerin’ melody!

Raura winked at Kroova, nodding toward Scarum. I bet that’n could eat the four legs off’n a table if’n there was no vittles on it.

Kroova sat next to Raura and trimmed the sails. You never spoke a truer word, marm!

High tide began rising as they beat their way up the coast. Seaspray shot in on the port side of the Stopdog. Raura took her visitors skilfully through a shoal of rock-strewn reefs. Slippo watched the friends’ faces, horrified as they sped through the perilous stone maze. The sleek seal clapped his flippers and laughed.

Ahuunk ahuunk ahuunkaaah!

Raura’s den was situated up a channel between some small cliffs. The passage twisted and doubled back upon itself so many times that it took all the force out of the sloshing water.

Slippo slid expertly onto a thickly seaweed-fringed ledge. He moored both vessels loosely, allowing them to ride up and down on the swell.

Raura explained.

Lashin’s o’ seaweed’ere, our liddle ships can bump against the rock forever. They won’t come t’no’arm. Away, boat’s crew, shift yoreselves, messmates, step lively now!

Sagax would never have guessed there was a cave at the rear of the ledge until Slippo drew aside a curtain of long trailing kelp. The friends hurried inside and stood staring wordlessly. It was a natural cave in the solid rock, with a crack in the roof serving as a chimney vent.

A fire, complete with stone-slabbed hearth and a rock oven, burned low but warm. Raura fed the flames with driftwood and sea coal as she chattered away.

Sit ye down there, you three. Slippo, where’s yore manners? Serve’em a drink an’ fetch me some bowls!

The seal rolled his huge liquid eyes. Kumhoo kohay! They sat on a shelf of rock padded with sailcloth cushions stuffed full of dried sea moss.

Slippo presented them with beakers fashioned from nautilus shells.

Scarum sipped warily. Hmm, this tastes like a bit of all right, wot!

Kroova smiled broadly. Crabapple an’ sweet woodruff tonic. I ain’t tasted this since I was nought but a shrimp!

Raura looked secretly pleased as she pulled a deep basin from the oven.

Fragrant smells wafted round the cave. Makes it to me own recipe. Nought like crabapple an’ sweet woodruff t’put a gleam in yore eye an’ a wag to yore rudder. Waif 11 ye taste my seastew an’ laverbread!

Scarum swigged away at his tonic drink heartily. Yours truly is willin’

to try anythin’, marm. But’laverbread’? What the deuce is that when it’s at home, wot?

Kroova accepted a wedge of the dark green loaf. Laver-bread’s made out of a special kind o’ seaweed. It’s a delicacy in coastal parts.

Sagax liked the laverbread. It was savoury tasting, a bit salty, but not unlike spring cabbage made into a loaf. The seastew was rare good eating, comprised of many types of shrimp and shellfish, thickened with cornflour and full of mushroom, potato, leek and carrot.

Kroova sampled it from his deep scallop-shell bowl. Beg pardon, marm, but’ave ye got any hotroot pepper?

Raura produced two small wooden boxes and a tiny spoon. This’un’s yore normal’otroot, but this other’un, hah, this is from my ole granpop’s store.’E used f make a livin’ fightin’ pirates. This pepper came from a corsair galley wot sailed from the far isles o’er the big ocean. I calls it Red Firebrand Pepper, ten times stronger’n’otroot!

Kroova sprinkled both peppers liberally on his seastew. He tried it, put the bowl down and bent double, making loud gasping noises. Grabbing his tonic, he quaffed a deep swig and straightened up. Tears poured from his reddened eyes and great beads of sweat stood out on his nosetip.

He recovered himself and grinned from ear to ear. Ph-wooooh! Now that’s wot I calls prime good pepper!

Scarum accepted another bowl of the stew, ignoring the boxes of pepper.

He remarked cuttingly to Slippo, These confounded seadogs, got no respect for their blinkin’ stomachs, wot wot?

Slippo raised his head from his bowl. Wharuumph bu-loooh!

The hare nodded drily. Couldn’t agree with y’more, old lad!

Waves could be heard from afar, booming against the rocks, with a strong wind driving them. Inside, the cave was snug and secure. Raura served the friends some of her special crusty plum slice and a small beaker of old elderberry cordial. They sat enjoying the flickering fireglow whilst Kroova told them of their journey, where they had come from and the destination they were bound for, Red-wall Abbey.

Raura took down a little harp and passed it to Slippo. Redwall Abbey, eh, I’ve’eard tell of it, but I never got that far inland. Tis said to be a wondrous place fer sure. But you young’uns must be tiredÑlie down an’ sleep now. Slippo, play us somethin’, maybe I’ll sing. I ain’t sung fer a while. I’ve fergotten most o’ me songs, but I can recall this one,’tis a nice ole ballad.

Stretching out gratefully on the covered ledges, the travelers closed their eyes and listened to the otterwife’s song.

’Tis a far cry from home for a poor lonely thing, O’er the deeps and wild waters of seas,

Where you can’t hear your dear mother’s voice softly sing Like a breeze gently stirring the trees.

Come home, little one, wander back here someday I’ll watch for you, each evening and morn, Through all the long season’til I’m old and grey As the frost on the hedges at dawn.

There’s a lantern that shines in my window at night, I have long kept it burning for you, It glows through the dark, like a clear guiding light, And I know someday you’ll see it, too.

So hasten back, little one, or I will soon be gone, No more to see your dear face, But I know that I’ll feel your tears fall one by one, On the flowers o’er my resting place.

Raura and Slippo crept quietly out to check up on the vessels. Sagax and Scarum wept brokenheartedly, moved by the old otterwife’s sentimental song. Then Kroova could not resist joining them. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled out over his cheeks, wetting the cushions.

I never knew me mum, but I’ll bet she was jus’ like the one in Raura’s song, a dear grey-’aired old thing. Waaaah!

Scarum rubbed at his eyes with both paws. Boohoohoo!

My old ma will be standin’ at the cottage door with a jolly brave smile on her face, hidin’ the blinkin’ tears, I know she will. Boohoohoo!

Sagax sat up, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. Waaha-haaa! But you don’t live in a dear old cottage, you live in a whacking great mountain, just like me. Waahaaah!

The hare used his long ears to mop at his eyes. Jolly nice thought, though, ain’t it. Boohoohoo!

Raura and Slippo sat outside until the otterwife was sure her young guests had cried themselves to sleep. She listened awhile, then nodded.

There, y’see, Slippo, me ole mate, that’ll teach’em a lesson!

The grey seal threw back his head and honked mournfully. Kuhoo umhoon kahooka, mowwwwwwwww!

Raura sniffed in agreement with Slippo. Aye, that’s the young’uns of these seasons for ye. Runnin’ off from’ome widout a second thought for their parents. Now me, I never’ad young’uns, but if’n I’ad, well, I wager they wouldn’t go skippin’ off an’ leavin’ me, eh?

Slippo smiled from ear to ear. Kuurhaaam oooh ko-honkahhh!

The sea otterwife smiled back at her friend. Yore right, mate, I would bring’em back an’ skelp the tails offen em. Come on, let’s go in an’

get some shuteye.

Breakfast next morning was an uncomfortable affair, with the three travellers avoiding their host’s accusing gaze. Raura commented drily, I’ve filled up yore bags with vit-tles for the trip.

Scarum kept his eyes fixed on the meal. Terribly decent of ye, marm, a thousand thanks from us.

She busied herself raking ashes from the fire. No need t’thank me, I’d do as much fer anybeast. Weather’s cleared up out there,’tis a prime day. There’s plenty o’ vittles to get ye back’ome, if’n youse was thinkin’ to sail that way. The goin’ is easier, too, if’n ye travel south.

Kroova rose, dusting crumbs from his paws. If’tis all the same with you, marm, we was figurin’ on goin’ to find Redwall Abbey,’cos that’s where we’re bound.

Raura passed her little harp to Slippo, smiling at them in a fond, motherly way. There’s no great rush t’get to Red-wall, as I sees it.

Why don’t ye stop until lunch? I’ll make us a nice apple an’ whortleberry pudden an’ sing ye a few old songs. I’ve remembered a few my ma used t’sing. There’s one called ÔA Mother’s’Eart Is Made o’ Gold/ aye, an’

another ditty called T’d Give the World fer a Slice o’ Mamma’s Nutbread.’

Then there’s the one about a mother’s tear bein’ like a pearl o’ grief...

Sagax grabbed the foodpacks. All three travelers were closely jammed as they fought to get through the cave doorway. No, thankee, marm, you’ve done quite enough for us!

Aye, we’ll miss the tide if we don’t go now, we wouldn’t dream of imposing on your hospitality any further, marm!

Sorry we’ve got to jolly well go, marm, er, toodle pip an’ all that, wot. Bye bye now, got to tear ourselves away!

Piling hastily into the Stopdog, they sailed off down the narrow rocky passage, fending off the stony walls with their oars. Only when the bright morning and the open sea lay before them did they chance to look back. Raura was standing on top of the rocks, singing at the top of her voice as Slippo twanged the harp for her.

Though she is wrinkled, grey and old, A mother’s heart is made of gold, And her smile is like a quiet sunny day, So hearken to my lonely song, Don’t stay away from home too long, There’s nothing crueller than a runaway.

A tear was springing to Kroova’s eye as he put on all sail and passed around chunks of laverbread. Stuff this in yore ears, shipmates, afore we ends up blubberin’ an’ puttin’ about to sail’ome!

By early noon the Stopdog was well out at sea, with the coastline a mere smudge of dark strip on the horizon. Sagax and Scarum were sitting atop the bow seat, their happy, carefree mood now restored.

Haha, imagine us wailing like babes just because we’re taking a short holiday from Salamandastron!

Rather! Did you see old Kroova? He was cryin’ buckets, an’ the silly great seadog hasn’t even got a home t’go to, wot. Look at him, sittin’

there fast asleep at the tiller, snorin’ like a toad with a toothache.

Hawhawhaw!

Scarum rolled a pellet of laverbread and flicked it at the sea otter.

It pinged him neatly on the nose. Kroova wakened with a start and blinked at them.

Ho, very funny, mateys, pingin’ me nose an’ wettin’ me footpaws, aye.

Very funny, I must say!

Scarum flicked another pellet and missed. Bit of an unjust accusation there, old lad. I pinged your nose, but neither of us wet your flippin’

footpaws, wot!

Kroova diverted his gaze to the water slopping round in the bottom of the ketch. Dismay crept across his features. Must’ve banged’er prow a bit’ard on those rocks when we came down the channel from Raura’s cave.

Scarum grinned mischievously as he rolled another pellet. Y’don’t say, me old scout. Nothin’ too serious, is it, wot?

Kroova turned the tiller, sending the vessel shoreward. Serious? You two shift yoreselves an’ git bailin’. It means we’ve sprung a leak an’

we’re sinkin’!

Book Two: Of Serpents and Paradoxes

15

Plugg Firetail sat studying the chart in his cabin aboard the Seascab, while Grubbage poured him a beaker of seaweed grog. Put that over’ere, where it won’t spill all over this chart. Tis the only one we’ve got wot shows the route.

Tazzin, the knife-throwing weasel, was hovering close by. She relieved Grubbage of the beaker and set it down carefully before she spoke. Cap’n, beggin’ yer pardon, but when do we do away wid the Princess an’ that fatbel-lied Prince?

Plugg gave her a smack that set her sprawling. Y’ain’t been lissenin’, Tazzin, yore like the rest o’ the numbskulls I’ve got fer a crew.

Now’earken t’me, an’ you, Grubbage, you, too, Slitfang. Clean the mud outta yore ears an’ pay attention. Right,’ere’s the plan. We don’t kill nobeast until this ship’s’omeward bound fer Riftgard. Agarnu promised me booty twice the value of anythin’ wot’s brought back from this Mossflower place.

Slitfang poured himself a beaker of Plugg’s best grog. Oh did’e now, an’ wot are we supposed t’be bringin’ back?

Plugg sneered. Ole King Sarengo, or’is bones if’n he’s dead, an’ a golden crown an’ a pawring. But I ain’t as green as I’m grass lookin’Ñthere’s got t’be more to it thanthat, mates! So let’s not git too ‘asty. We goes along wid everything make ‘em think they’re in charge, even that bossy Cap’n Riftun. Now, when we’re comin’ back from Mossflower, we gets rid of ‘im an’ that score o’ Ratguards ‘e brought with ‘im, accidental-like.

Tazzin sniggered and licked at her knifeblade.

Heeheehee, I likes the sound o’ that, Cap’n darlin’. Could I be the one who makes Riftun ‘ave an accident?

Plugg nodded. Aye, when the time comes, but not afore then. When we reaches Riftgard, we delivers Kurda an’ Bladd back to their daddy, old Agarnu. Of course, Agarnu gives us our reward then, twice the booty we brought back. Now, ‘ere’s the nice part. We slays Kurda, Bladd an’

Agarnu, all three of ‘em. We takes the reward an’ wotever they brought back, be it crowns or pawrings or a good haul o’ treasure. Simple! We ends up wid the kingdom o’ Riftgard, a lot o’ booty, a throne fer me to sit on, an’ all those liddle slaves to build us a big fleet o’ ships.

You lot can all be cap’ns!

Slitfang grinned in admiration as he poured another drink. Yore a Freebooter born, Cap’n, the slyest beast as ever walked a deck. I drink to ye!

Plugg pointed his dagger toward the weasel. Aye, an’ you’ll be the sorriest beast ever walked a deck, if’n you keeps ‘elpin’ yoreself to my grog. Now, that’s the plan.’Ave youse all got it in yore thick ‘eads?

Grubbage looked indignant. Why ‘ave we gotta take to our sickbeds, Cap’n?

Plugg came from behind his table. Wordlessly he faced the deaf rat to the cabin door, pressing on the back of his head until he bent over.

Taking a pace back, the Captain swung his seabooted footpaw and delivered a powerful kick to his bosun’s bottom. Grubbage shot forward, whooping.

At that moment the cabin door opened and he careered out.

Princess Kurda acted as if nothing odd had happened, as she strode in, sabre in paw, to face Plugg. Vy you can’t make dis ship go faster? You be free days out an’ ve don’t seem to be goink much far.

The silver fox regarded her sourly. That’s ‘cos the ship’ll only go as fast as the winds carry ‘er, dearie. Or ain’t ye ever been t’sea afore?

Kurda did not like Plugg. She pointed the sabre at him. I must catchen up mit der slaves who steal my boat. You vill make dis ship go faster.

Dis is my vish an’ my order!

The Freebooter captain, ignoring the sabrepoint, grinned. Ho right, ye ‘igh royalness, I kin see yore used ter givin’ orders. But I’m only an ordinary ship’s cap’n, ye see. Why don’t ye go up on deck? Go on, missy. Wave yore sword round an’ give orders t’the wind an’ waves. Yore a princess. The sea’n’weather’ll ‘ave to listen to you, ain’t that right, mates? Haharrharrharr!

Laughter froze on the crew’s lips as Kurda, with a murderous glint turning her eyes from pink to ruby, levelled the sabre blade a hairsbreadth from Plugg’s eye and hissed, You are insolent, fox. Dis could make you lose de head, yarr?

The Freebooter continued grinning, as he reached beneath the table and brought his big double-edged battle-axe into view. That there’s a pretty liddle sword ye’ve got, darlin’. We’ve all seen ye flourishin’ it round, real fancy-like. Now, git it outta me face afore I show ye wot a Freebooter cap’n can do with a proper weapon!

The grin had gone from the fox’s face, and his eyes were narrowed, icy slits, matching Kurda’s stare.

Bladd blundered into the cabin, breaking the tension as he complained aloud, De bed in my cabin, it is too hard! I vant a nice soft von!

Plugg’s grin returned. He brushed past Kurda, knocking her sabre aside, and threw a paw around Bladd’s shoulders.

Ahoy there, Slitfang, git a nice soft mattress for me shipmate, the Prince ‘ere. Wot are ye thinkin’ of, eh? Let-tin’ a royal ferret like

‘im sleep on an ‘ard bed?

Slitfang was chuckling as he bowed mockingly to Bladd. Ho dearie me, wot a shame. You come wid old Slitty, yer royal princeness. We’ll soon get ye a decent bunk!

Kurda sheathed her sabre and stormed out of the cabin, followed by Slitfang and Bladd, who were chatting away like lifelong companions.

You make sure it be nice an’ soft, diss bedbunk, yarr?

Why, bless yore’eart, matey, you’ll think yore floatin’ on a cloud o’

feathers!

Diss iz good, you are der fine fellow. I am likin’ you, Slitty You vill be mine shipmatey, yarr!

As the cabin door closed behind them, Plugg turned to Tazzin. When the time comes, you steer clear o’ Princess Kurda. She’s mine, d’ye’ear?

All mine!

With neither food nor water, the days at sea began to take their toll.

Welfo had slipped into a deep sleep. She lay limp and unmoving on the bunk. Triss lay alongside the hog-maid, gaunt-faced and hollow-eyed, drifting in and out of listless slumber. Shogg sat draped across the tiller on the open deck, licking at cracked lips with a swollen tongue.

He shaded a paw across his eyes, staring up at the beaming sun, which seemed to mock him out of a clear blue sky.

The otter croaked despairingly, Rain, why don’t ye! Rain, jus’ a liddle shower!

He fell asleep, his bowed head against the tiller, holding the vessel on course as his strength ebbed low.

Alone, like a leaf on an eternal breeze-ruffled pond, the little craft bobbed along aimlessly. With all hope gone, the three friends lay, overcome by weariness and starvation.

Triss was past caring. It might have been hours, days, or a full season that she languished in the cabin, alternately shivering and swearing.

Then one day there was a soft radiance; the voice of that strange mouse warrior visited her clouded mind. She saw him advancing through a mist, carrying his splendid sword, calling to her. Trisscar, Swordmaid, come with me, have no fear. He reached out to her. Triss held forth her paw to him.

Bump!The ship struck something, knocking her out of the bunk onto the cabin deck. Her eyelids fluttered. She was barely aware of a large, rough, prickly face filling her vision.

This’un’s in better shape than yon pore liddle’ogmaid. Lend a paw’ere, Urtica. Don’t fret ye, missy, thou’rt safe.

Triss felt strong paws lifting her, then she passed out.

Unaware that it was the following dawn, Shogg opened his eyes slowly and looked about him. He was no longer at sea on the ship! The ground was still and firm. He tried to sit up, but a gentle paw pushed him back.

Lie thee still, riverdog, thou art with friends. Thou lookest hungered.

Fear not, we will be breaking fast soon now.

The otter stared up into the face of an enormous but kindly-looking hogwife. He tried to talk, but his tongue was so swollen that only a husky noise came forth. Dipping a gourd ladle into a pail, the hogwife supported his head and fed him some water. It was the coolest, sweetest thing Shogg had ever tasted. She checked him from gulping it greedily.

Nay, drink slow,’tis not good taken fast. My name is Downyrose. My husband, Bistort, and our son Urtica found thy craft whilst we were gathering kelp. What is thy name?

The otter’s voice sounded strange to him as he spoke. Name’s Shogg, marm. Where are me mates, Triss an’ Welfo?

Downyrose allowed Shogg to sit up, leaning his back against a rock wall.

They be safe, worry not. Here, sip now, I must be about my chores.

Shogg took the gourd ladle and did as she instructed. Whilst drinking, he took stock of his surroundings.

He was seated on a ledge at the edge of a cave, overlooking a steep, terraced valley. It was like some huge inverted bowl, with high rocks surrounding the entire area. Other caves were dotted about the slopes.

Families of hedgehogs could be seen, either breakfasting or tending the fertile green steppes. All manner of vegetables and fruit were flourishing in the soft, cool climate. A small waterfall threaded its way down the far slope, cascading over the rocky outcrops to end in a beautiful little forest situated on the valley bottom. One of the biggest hedgehogs Shogg had ever seen came ambling up to him. His facial quills were silvery and he wore a rustic brown farmer’s smock.

Sitting down next to the otter, the big fellow proffered his paw. A good morn to ye, sir. I be called Bistort, Patriarch of Peace Island.’Tis a fair an’ pleasant spot.

Shogg shook paws with Bistort. Aye, mate, it is that. How long have ye lived’ere?

Bistort moved his great head back and forth solemnly My clan an’ kin have been here since the days of my parents. They sailed here seeking peace and contentment away from all strife, slavery and war. I was the firstborn here, and have never been away from this isle.

The young otter nodded admiringly. Can’t say I blame ye, Bistort. Do otherbeasts ever come to yore island?

The big hedgehog winked. Nay, never. Thou art the first. Look ye at this rock. Strange, is it not?

Shogg inspected the rocks around him. They were a bluish-green colour.

Nice rocks, but what’ve they got t’do with it?

Bistort spread his paws to the valley beneath. Outside of all this, our island is practically invisible, a mere smooth-sided lump of stone sticking up out of the sea. Freebooters, corsairs and pirates have all sailed right by us. They see neither beach nor anchorage, so they think this nought but a big piece of stone, if they chance to sight it at all. Twas once a fire mountain, though no more. The soil is fertile, and we have only one hidden coveÑthy ship lies moored there.

Shogg chuckled. A secret island, eh. I want to thank ye for savin’ our livesÑwe’d’ave perished out there at sea. Me W TrissÑthat’s the squirrelmaidÑwe was worried about pore Welfo. She looked sure t’die soon. She ain’t dead, is she?

The hedgehog Patriarch nodded back toward the cave. Thy friend lives.

She is in there now, with our healer. But it will be some long time ere she is well again, methinks.

An apple came spinning through the air at Bistort. He ducked neatly and spiked it on his head quills. Another young hedgehog showed up.

He was a jolly-looking creature, winking at Shogg as he called to Bistort, See thee, old hog, my apples are ready before thine this season. Try that one for taste!

Bistort unspiked the apple from his head and munched on it. Mmm, good an’ firm with sap aplenty. Shogg, this cheeky beast is my son UrticaÑhe helped to rescue thee.

The otter rose and shook Urtica’s paw. Thankee, mate.’Ere’s my paw anere’s my’eart. I owe ye my life, an’ my friends’ lives too!

Urtica kept one paw behind his back as he shook paws. Welcome to Peace Island, Shogg. Thou art recovering well.

Bistort craned his head to see what his son was hiding. Art thou keeping something from thy father?

The young hedgehog scrunched his spines together, a sign of obvious embarrassment among his species. He produced a posy of brightly hued flowers, freshly gathered.

Tis nought but some flowers for Welfo, the hogmaid we rescued. When she wakens’twill be a welcome to her. He hurried past them into the cave, his spines bunched tight.

The big Patriarch took another bite of his apple. My son seems greatly taken with thy friend. I have never seen him so attentive to another creature. Still, she is a pretty young maid. Would thou like to visit her, Shogg?

The otter patted Bistort’s paw and winked knowingly. Oh, I’ll see’er later, mate. Let Urtica keep’er company awhile. We’ll visit Welfo after brekkist.

Triss emerged from the cave when Downyrose called their new acquaintances to eat. Shogg was pleased to see her up and about, even though she still looked a bit shaky.

Ahoy there, shipmate, yore lookin’ pawfresh an’ perky!

Triss sat beside Shogg as Downyrose and several other bustling hedgehogs served them a breakfast of fresh fruit, new baked bread and cool pale cider. You don’t look too bad yourself, young seadog. My, this looks good! I’m famished. They have a wonderful old healer hereÑshe’s treating Welfo with all kinds of herbs. I think she’ll be able to sit up soon.

She was awake when I left her.

Shogg sunk his teeth into a farl of the crusty bread. Sink me rudder, that’s good news. Mmm, this bread’s great. It’s full o’ hazelnuts an’

almonds. Tastes wunner-ful!

They did the delicious breakfast full justice. Downyrose insisted on heaping their plates several times. Lackaday, such skinny young things!

Bistort chuckled as he watched them tucking in. Not for long, my dearie, not with the way thou’rt feeding’em!

After breakfast they went into the cave for a visit with Welfo. Her eyes were open, and she was propped up on cushions, being fed fresh vegetable broth by Turna, the old healer. Welfo took the food without even glancing at the spoon as it was brought to her mouth; her eyes were fixed on Urtica. The young hedgehog sat staring silently back at her, the flowers still clutched in his paw. The visitors stood in silence for what seemed an age, as both Welfo and Urtica seemed unaware of their presence.

Shogg interrupted, asking and answering his own questions. Ahoy there, Welfo, me ole mate,’ow are ye?

Oh, Shogg, I’m fine, I’m much better, thank you!

Ho that’s nice, now you git yoreself well, missie, an’ eat lots o’ good vittles.

Oh, I will. Thank you for coming to see me!

Aye, an’ thank ye for chattin’ t’me, mate. Nice talkin’ t’ye!

He nudged Triss and Bistort, indicating the outside. We might as well be talkin’ t’the wall. Let’s go.

Turna followed them as they left the cave. I’ll join thee. The little maid will recover, but poor Urtica looks strickenÑhe’ll never be the same again!

They left the pair still gazing into one another’s eyes.

Bistort took Shogg and Triss up a long, winding path with many steps cut into it. Morning was well advanced when they reached the crater rim. Smooth and sheer, the bluey-green rockface plunged to the sea far, far below. It was a dizzying prospect. Triss sat with her footpaws dangling over the edge.

I feel as if my head is touching the clouds!

Bistort hitched his smock and sat down beside her. See the crack in the wall o’er yonder?

Shogg was first to spot the fissure running from top to bottom, though he had to peer hard to find it. Hah! I sees it, though it’s very’ard to find.

Bistort pointed it out for Triss to see. ’Tis there where thy ship is secretly moored. Nobeast will ever see it from the sea. Thou art safe here, friends.

He took them along the rim and down again by another path. Cutting off the path momentarily, the big hedgehog showed them a cave, screened by bushes. He pulled the foliage aside and bade them enter. The interior was stacked with sturdy home-made weaponry. Shogg inspected the array, which consisted mainly of bows, arrows, slings, pikes and lances. All were tipped with razor-sharp shards of the natural bluegreen stone of the island.

The Patriarch indicated them with a wave of his paw. There are no swords here, as long blades cannot be made without metal. Most of our knives are made from stone. No weapons are allowed in our valley, but we made these, lest we ever had to defend ourselves from enemies. They have never been used, for we follow the ways of peace here.

Triss commented respectfully, That’s because no vermin ever found their way to Peace Island. Fate forbid that they ever will. We came from a land that was conquered by evil ones. Our lives were nothing but war and slavery.

Bistort placed a gentle paw on her shoulder. I was about to ask thee to stay here with us. But I see in thine eyes that this cannot be so.

The squirrelmaid touched one of the lances. No sir, not while there are still slaves in Riftgard!

Bistort turned his gaze on Shogg. Are ye of like mind?

The otter picked up a bag of sling pebbles, three pointed and sharp, every one knapped from the island rocks. We made promises to our mates that we’d return someday an’ free them. We’re not beasts to break our vows.

The hedgehog Patriarch gave a long sigh and nodded. So be it. Ye must do what ye are bound to. Thy ship will be stocked with some of these weapons when it sails. We will provision it with rations also. But’twill not be for a while yetÑthou are not ready to face the seas again so soon. Come, forget thy woes whilst ye are with us.

Hedgehogs throughout the valley ceased work on their crops for the remainder of that day. Everybeast gathered on a grassy plateau to feast and sport. Food was cooked in shallow trenches on fire-heated rocks.

Broad, shiny, dark green leaves were wrapped around the various fruits and vegetables, causing aromatic steam to rise. Welfo, borne down to the plateau in a form of palanquin, was carried by eight stout beasts, with Urtica walking alongside holding her paw. Though most of the hedgehogs were great strong beasts, they did not indulge in spike tussling or wrestlingÑthere were no displays of fighting skills. The competition was mainly prizes for the best grown fruits and vegetables, and each hedgehog stood beside carefully arranged tableaus of their own produce.

Triss and Shogg found themselves acting as judges, in company with Bistort. They were followed by a group of hogbabes, who had never seen creatures different from themselves.

Hogmothers chased after the little ones, chiding them. Grinfee, if ye pull yon squirrelmaid’s tail again, I’ll tell thy father, be warned!

Come off the otterbeast’s tail,’tis not for thee to ride upon, come off I say!

Triss and Shogg took the babes’ curiosity in good part. The food was superb, harvested only that morning. Shogg swore he had never tasted bread so fine, and so many types, too. Cider was the main drink, but that also had a lot of different varieties: cider with damson, plum’n’apple cider, dandelion burdock cidermix, to name but a few. Then two empty barrels were rolled out and used as drums, a hogwife played a rustic melody on a reed flute and a stout farmer sang out in a fine tenor voice:

My valley is green, the soil is good,

An’ I grows what I please,

All in the spring when birds do sing,

My wife grows flowers like these.

Pepperwort, trefoil, celandine,

Daffodil, woodruff, dandelion,

Paleflax, pansy an’ speedwell,

Sweet violet an’ bluebell.

She’s helped by all the busy bees,

An’ I grows what I please!

My valley is green, the soil is good,

With lots of shady trees,

So when the work is done each day,

‘Neath them we take our ease.

Hazel, willow, birch an’ all,

Oak an’ beech an’ elm so tall,

Chestnut, elder, aspen, too,

Make shade for me an’ you.

There’s laurel, lime, an’ rowan trees,

‘Neath which to take our ease!

My valley is green, the soil is good,

Our table for to fill,

I plant my fruit an’ veg’tables,

With pride an’ right goodwill.

Lettuce, turnips, carrots, beans,

Leeks an’ scallions, winter greens,

Damsons, plums, an’ apples red,

An’ pears grow overhead.

When we sits down, we eats our fill,

With pride an’ right goodwill!

Having been slaves at Riftgard since they could remember, Shogg and Triss had never experienced anything like the feast on Peace Island.

It was the happiest, most joyous of days. In the evening they sat round a fire with their new friends, watching the sky above the rim fade from powder blue to rich crimson gold. Hogbabes draped both their heads and necks with garlands of buttercups and daisy chains, while elders plied them with even more good food and drink.

Triss poked at the flames with a stick, watching bright sparks rise like dancing jewels to the gathering twilight shades. She felt a deep pang of regret for the passing of it all. Imagine if each day were like this, Shogg. Anybeast would be foolish to think of leaving this wonderful isle.

The otter noticed her eyes glinting damp in the firelight. Aye, matey, but fools such as we know wot must be done. We can’t live our time out’ere, knowin’ that others are still kept in wicked slavery, can we?

Triss sniffed and looked aside. No, we’ll be on our way in a few days, though I think there’s one who won’t be sailing with us.

She was looking at Welfo, who was still wordlessly staring into Urtica’s eyes. Both seemed unaware of everything around them, completely entranced with each other.

Shogg chuckled quietly. I see wot y’mean, Triss, it’d be a shame to part those two. Pore Welfo was never very strong, she’s a gentle creature.

Leave’er with young Ur-tica. She’s found’appiness’ere on Peace Island.

Triss patted her friend’s paw, smiling through moist eyes. There was no need for words.

16

Morning sunlight filtered through RedwalTs orchard trees, adding warmth and brightness to the merry chaos of breakfast. Foremole Urrm was ladling out a porridge of oats, chestnut and honey, a special favourite with Dibbuns. He was having difficulty keeping up with the demand. Noisy Abbeybabes banged wooden spoons on the tabletops, roaring for second helpings.

I wanna more porringe, I finish mine all up!

Me on’y gorra likkle bowl, gimme more, more!

H’over yurr, zurr, quick, afore oi starven away! Foremole glared at Ruggum with mock fierceness. You’m already ‘aved three porshings, villyun!

Memm Flackery grabbed the bowl that Turfee mouse-babe had decided to use as a helmet. Don’t do that, you infant cad. Just look at y’self, you’ve got more porridge on your face than you’ve put in y’mouth, wot!

Sit still while I wipe it off. Sister Vernal, grab that blinkin’

miscreant, will you? Quick, before he escapes under the table, catch him!

Abbot Apodemus covered both ears, shouting over the din to Curdle Sprink, who was sitting alongside him. I know they’re excited about taking summer meals outdoors, but this is too much, old friend. Let’s go and find abit of peace with Malbun and Crikulus in the gatehouse, eh!

Curdle was about to help the Abbot up when suddenly he halted. Father,

‘ere come our Skipper, an’ Ovus, too. Wonder wot that ole owl wants?

He ain’t visited us in seasons.

They hurried to meet Skipper and the big tawny owl waddling at his side.

Apodemus beckoned them away from the orchard. The four creatures walked back slowly towards the gatehouse, with Skipper explaining the reason for the owl’s visit.

I noticed the gates weren’t locked early this mornin’, so I took a peek.

They was jammed t’gether with that bonnet old Crikulus was wearin’ at the feast last nightÑthe lockin’ bar wasn’t in place. So I goes t’the gate’ouse an’ it was empty. Crikulus was gone, Malbun too!

The Abbot halted. Malbun and Crikulus gone! Where?

Ovus the tawny owl blinked his huge jet-black eyes. Can’t say where they were going, but I can show you exactly where your friends are now.

Er, breakfast looked quite nice, a tad rowdy, but quite nice. Don’t suppose there’s any leftÑhaven’t had much since yesterday.

Curbing his impatience, Apodemus nodded graciously. I’m sure we can find you breakfast, friend, but will you please tell me immediately where Crikulus and Malbun are?

Ovus nestled his chin into his puffy breast feathers. Thank you, Father Abbot. Now, your two Redwallers, let me tell you their location. I’d left my home south of here and gone to visit some family, in the north, you know. Can’t say why they chose there to settleÑcold, hostile country, I’ve always thought. Never really liked the north, y’know.

Curdle whispered to the Abbot, Beats round the bush a bit, don’t he?

You think he’d get on with it!

Ovus swivelled his head in the Cellarhog’s direction. Iheard that, y’know. I didn’t come here to be insulted. Huh, I think I’d be better off keeping myself to myself!

Apodemus nudged Gurdle sharply, warning him to be silent with a severe glance. I must apologise for my friend. His back is playing him up a bit, touch of rheumatism. He didn’t mean to be rude.

The tawny owl gazed down at his own enormous talons. Hmm, the rheumatiz gets us all once the young seasons are gone. Take me, now, my talons give me dreadful twinges, especially in the winter. You wouldn’t think owls would have that complaint, would you? Well, we do, let me tell you!

Apodemus gave a polite cough. Ovus blinked several times, then got on with his account.

Hmm, let me see now, ah yes. I was on my way back south from visiting family in the north, night flying, of course. It must’ve been three, no, I tell a He, two hours before dawn. I heard weeping and sobbing, southeast of here, just beyond a patch of bogland in Mossflower Woods.

Recognised the pair right away, your old Gatekeeper shrew and that woodmouse who does a bit of healing. Malbun, is it?

Gurdle was about to speak when Ovus held up a wing. I know what you’re going to ask. Let me continue. I saw it was the old shrew who was crying.

The woodmouse was unconscious, not badly injured, merely knocked out by something or other. So I had a brief chatÑI can be brief, y’knowÑwith the shrew. Told him to stay put and not to move. Said I’d fly to Redwall and get help. Well, here I am!

Apodemus heaved a sigh of relief. Many, many thanks, Ovus, many thanks!

I take it you will be so kind as to lead us to them?

The owl spread his wings as if to take off, then thought better of it and folded them again. Of course I’ll lead you to them. I can put my talon on the exact spot where they are right now. Straight after I’ve had breakfast. Oh, one other thingÑdon’t expect me to gobble my food down. I suffer from indigestion, too, y’know!

Skipper looked at the Abbot resignedly. We’d best git our mate Ovus some brekkist, Father.

Crikulus tapped his paw upon a treetrunk impatiently and judged the sun’s traverse. Where in the name o’ seasons are they? It’ll soon be midmorn. D’you think the owl has really gone back to Redwall?

Malbun sat with her back against the tree, holding a compress of herbs against her injured cheek. No reason why he shouldn’t. Ovus knows he’s sure of a meal there. I never knew the owl who could resist a bite or two at our Abbey. Relax, they’ll come for us, I’m sure.

Neither of the pair had discussed the fear and horror that had caused them to flee on the previous night. Nor did they feel that they wanted even to mention itÑthe dreadful odour, the rippling grass, the horrific feeling. It seemed like a bad dream in the broad, sunny light of day, so they avoided speaking of such things.

Crikulus rubbed his lean stomach. Breakfast at the Abbey, I could use that right now!

Malbun pressed her paw gently to the bump that had developed on the side of her head, smiling ruefully. I’m absolutely useless without my first beaker of hot mint and comfrey tea in the mornings. I’d love to have one right now, with a drop of feverfew to reduce this headache.

The ancient shrew paced up and down, guessing who would come searching for them. It’ll be Skipper for sure, with them two big young otters.

I’ll wager Log a Log an’ his Guosim shrews come, too. Malbun, d’you think I’d best take a walk and see if I can spot them coming? I won’t be long.

Malbun held up a paw for silence and craned forward, listening intently to a distant sound. No need for you to go anywhere, Crikulus, I think I hear them coming. Listen, can you hear it, too?

The old shrew could not, even though he waggled a paw in his ears to clear them. No, I can’t hear a thine yet.

Malbun relaxed and leaned back against the tree. Let’s hope they’ve brought some food with ‘em, eh.

Crikulus rubbed his paws in anticipation. I’ll give them a shout, that’ll jolly ‘em along a bit. Let them know our position, too.

Cupping both paws around his mouth, he yelled aloud, We’re over here, over heeeere! Come on, you lazy lot, over heeeeeere! Bring us some foooooooooood!

He sat down next to Malbun. As they waited, Crikulus would give out with the odd shout, Over heeeeeere! He persisted in doing this until Malbun stopped him.

Great fur’n’feathers, d’you have to bawl your face off like that? My head is really beginning to bang!

Crikulus stopped then, but he became a bit sulky. Only trying to help.

Letting them know where we are.

Aye, so ye were. Thank ye fer the ‘elp, old feller!

Three rough-looking stoats strolled out of the trees. Malbun eyed them suspiciously. Who are you?

Their leader, a lanky specimen with yellowed broken stumps of teeth, drew a curved sword from his tattered robe. Grinning nastily, he pointed the blade at them.

Never mind who we are, mousey. Who are you, an’ who’s yer noisy liddle pal? Wot are ye doin’ in our woods, eh?

Swallowing hastily, Crikulus tried not to look scared. You’ll pardon me saying so, but Mossflower Woods do not belong to anybeast. They are free to all creatures.

One of the stoats, a fatbellied beast with a marked stoop, leaned on his spear, cackling. Heeheehee, ye’ll pardon me sayin’, ain’t that nice.

Heehee, ‘ow about that, Wicky. Are yer gonna pardon ‘im, or slit ‘is throat? I’ll do the job if ye like. Heeheehee! He advanced on Crikulus with his spear held ready.

Malbun stood up and called out indignantly, Don’t you dare! We are creatures of Redwall Abbey!

The third stoat, an undersized vermin with a big single brass earring, whipped out a hatchet, leering nastily So wot’s that to us, eh? Yew shut yer mouth, or I’ll part yore ears. Where’s yore vittles an’

valuables, quick!

Crikulus bravely placed himself in front of his friend. We don’t carry valuables an’ we haven’t any food. Now leave us alone, I warn you. Some other Redwallers will be here any moment, three big otters an’ a band of Guosim shrews.

The one called Wicky shaded a paw across his eyes and leapt about, waving his sword. Otters, shrews, I don’t see any otters or shrews, d’you, mates? May’aps they’re ‘idin’ close by.

The spear carrier thought it was all very funny. Heeheehee, Redwallers comin’, otters’n’shrews. Who d’ye think yer foolin’, granpa? That’s the oldest trick in the book. Tell us where yore vittles’n’vallibles are an’ we’ll let ye go. But no fibbin’Ñfibs make us angry.

Wicky unwound a long, thin line of greased cord from under his cloak.

He made a running noose and lassoed both Crikulus and Malbun with an expert cast. In a trice they were both bound to the tree that they had their backs to.

Crikulus whispered urgently to Malbun, Where in the name of seasons have Skipper an’ Log a Log got to? What’s keeping them?

Wicky cuffed the old shrew’s ear. Shut yer gob, I’ll tell ye when to talk! Now, I’m goin’ to ask ye once more. Where’s the valuables an’

vittles?

The wound in Malbun’s cheek and the ache in her head was doing little to improve her temper. She snapped sharply, And I’m telling you once more, vermin, so dig the mud out your ears. There aren’t any. Is that plain enough?

The stoat swung his sword, chipping a chunk of bark from the tree a fraction above Malbun’s head. He snarled, Me next strike’ll be lower, about where yer ears are!

His companion with the hatchet waved him out of the way. Yore not’avin all the fun, Wicky, gimme a go. Right, old shrew, you tell us. Cummon, where’s the stuff’idden?

Crikulus kept his voice reasonable, eyeing the hatchet. We have nothing but the robes we are wearing, nothing.

Well, let’s see’ow yer’op round with only one foot-paw!

The stoat flung his hatchet. Crikulus pulled his footpaw aside just in time. The hatchet buried itself in the ground, a hair’s breadth from the old shrew’s paw.

A rough growl came from the spear carrier as he hefted his weapon. Aarrh, I’m sick o’ playin’ around. I’ll slay one of’em, the other’11 talk soon enough then!

Looking directly at Malbun, he leaned back for a throw.

Skipper came hurtling out of the bushes and grabbed the spearbutt, pulling the stoat flat on his back as Log a Log and the others dashed in, surrounding the three vermin. Log a Log snatched the sword from Wicky and cut the captives loose. Skipper snapped the spear as though it were a twig. Roughly he hauled the floored stoat upright and shoved him toward the other two. Huddling miserably together, the three vermin stood dull-eyed, expecting no mercy.

Log a Log turned to Malbun and Crikulus, inspecting them. Are you all right, friends? Did these three harm you?

Malbun held the herbal compress close against her cheek. We’re all right, thank you. They were just about to start on us when you arrived. Please don’t slay them, they’re only three thickheaded, ignorant vermin!

Log a Log looked enquiringly to Skipper, who shrugged. Mossflower’d be better off without such evil scum. But if’n that’s yore wish, marm, then so be it. Ahoy there, vermin, ye’ve got this good mouse t’thank for sparin’ yore worthless lives. Speak up now, thank’er!

Hope gleamed in the stoats’ eyes as they cried out together, Thank ye, marm, thank ye kindly!

Skipper picked up the stoat’s hatchet and hefted it. Tie their footpaws t’gether, Churk.

The burly young ottermaid took the severed rope and lashed the stoats’

footpaws together, as though they were competing in a three-legged race, the middle one’s foot-paws bound to the left and right of his companions.

Skipper spoke. I’m goin’ to count to ten. I wouldn’t be’ere after the count if I was you. Take warnin’, vermin, next time you’re seen in Mossflower country yore deadbeasts, all of ye! One, two ...

Hobbling and stumbling, they fled off into the woodlands. There was no need for Skipper to count further.

Log a Log gave a snort of derision, shaking his head at Malbun. Yore too soft-’earted, marm. They’ll live to slay other pore honest beasts.

Oh well, come on, you two, let’s get ye back to the Abbey. I suppose yore hungry, eh?

Crikulus rubbed his stomach. Hungry’s not the word, friendÑtry famished.

What happened to the owl? I didn’t see him arrive with you.

That’s because you didn’t take the trouble to look up here!

Ovus was perched in a tree directly opposite. He swooped down to the ground and clacked his awesome beak at them. I’m not exactly famished, but I could manage lunch. Or if we’re too late, a spot of afternoon tea would be nice.

The party moved off, with Crikulus striking up a friendship with the talkative tawny owl. Toasted teacakes with a smear of honey on’em, now that’s my choice, with a good beaker of dandelion burdock cordial. Be my guest, sir, we’ll take it in my gatehouse. Would you like to join us, Malbun? Maybe we’ll have some of that soft white cheese with the celery bits in and a mushroom pasty or two, with lots of onion gravy, of course.

Squinching her eyes, the Healer Recorder shook her head gingerly. No, thanks. A bit of quiet and a lie down’ll do me.

17

Late-afternoon sunlight poured in through the Infirmary window at Redwall Abbey. Malbun lay on her bed, fiddling with the edge of the tasselled counterpane. Sleep was eluding her. There was a gentle tap on the door, and Abbot Apodemus entered, carrying a tray. Skipper and Log a Log came in with him. The Abbot checked to see if Malbun was awake.

Ah, having trouble taking a nap, eh, Mai? I thought you’d like a teacake and a nice beaker of mint and comfrey tea.

Malbun sat up. Indeed I would. Thank you, my friend.

As Malbun ate and drank, the Abbot began talking to her of the previous night’s events.

I take it, then, that you and Crikulus left the Abbey late last night during the feast. Still searching for Brockhall, probably. Well, Malbun, what did you find?

The Healer Recorder shrugged dismissively. Oh, noth-ing.

Log a Log and Skipper exchanged suspicious glances. The Guosim Chieftain kept his voice deceptively casual. Ye don’t mind me askin’, marm, but’ow come we found you an’ Crikulus miles from anywhere?

Malbun suddenly became interested in the teacakecrumbs on her plate.

She hesitated. Er, we got lost. Took the wrong path in the, er, dark.

Skipper dropped his question in casually. Wot were the two of ye runnin’

away from, marm?

Malbun looked surprised. Running? What makes you think we were running?

There was nothing chasing us, we never ran.

Seeing she had finished her snack, the Abbot removed the tray. Our Guosim trackers said that your trail looked as if you were dashing through the woodlands in a panic.

Detesting the lies she was telling to her friends, Malbun carried on unhappily. When creatures are lost in darkened woodlands, they crash and stumble about a bit, through bushes, across streams.... 1 assure you, we weren’t running or being chased.

Apodemus held his friend’s paw, staring into her eyes. Are you sure there’s nothing more you want to tell us?

Malbun pulled her paw free and lay back, closing her eyes. 1 can’t tell you anything more. I’m tired and injured, I need to have a sleep. Please leave me alone.

Apodemus signalled to Skipper and Log a Log that they should leave.

He parted Malbun’s footpaw. Of course you need to rest. Forgive us for intruding.

As Skipper opened the door, Malbun called out, Thank you for rescuing us from those vermin. Don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t arrived in time.

Log a Log bowed gallantly. Think nought of it, marm. You take a nice liddle rest now.

The door closed. Malbun opened her eyes and rubbed her aching head miserably, still fighting to rid her mind of the sickly-sweet odour of death and grass rustling in the night.

Halfway down the stairs, the Abbot turned to his companions. He looked mystified. Well, what d’you make of that? Malbun was telling lies, I’m certain of it. That’s not at all like her.

ã

Skipper sat down on the worn sandstone steps. I’m glad you said that instead o’ me, Father Abbot, It grieves me t’think of any Redwaller bein’ a liar. Especially that nice ole mouse!

Log a Log scratched his whiskers thoughtfully. She must’ve had a reason.

Hmm, I wonder wot ole Crikulus would say if’n we asked ‘im?

Apodemus folded both paws up his wide sleeves. Now, that’s a thought!

Leave this to me, friends. Let me go and have a word with our Gatekeeper, on my own.

With an appetite that belied his long seasons and frail appearance, Crikulus ravenously tucked into everything within paw range. He stuffed himself with toasted tea-cakes, slices of heavy fruitcake, cucumber sandwiches, a cheese-and-celery pasty, and a large tankard of October Ale, after which he retired to his beloved gatehouse and slumped in the big armchair with his footpaws resting on a dusty old hassock. Almost immediately he fell into a deep slumber.

Apodemus lifted the latch carefully and crept in, closing the door quietly behind him. Seating himself on the wide chair arm, the Father Abbot whispered into the ancient shrew’s ear, Ah well, we’re safe back in your gatehouse now, old fellow.

Crikulus moved his lips. Mmm, mmm, aye, safe ... safe ... Redwall...

mmm ... Who’s that?

He stirred, and the Abbot stroked his paw, relaxing him. Ssshhh, ‘tis only Malbun. My my, we were lucky out there in those woodlands, my friend, very lucky.

Crikulus nodded in his sleep, smiling at the recollection. Aye, near chopped my footpaw off with that hatchet. Vermin scum! Good job Skipper arrived. Log a Log, too. Redwallers, true friends, y’know. Those stoats were goin’ to kill us. Haha ... Bet they’re still runnin’... mmm.

Apodemus leaned closer, whispering urgently, We were running, too, last night, through the woodlands, me and you, running. What was it that was after us?

Crikulus thrust a paw out in front of him, his face screwed up. Shaking his head from side to side, he gave a hoarse, high-pitched whimper.

Eeehh! They’re in the grass, coming toward us! Malbun, oh, that smell, it’s everywhere! Can’t you hear the grass moving? ... Run!

I say, either of you two chaps spotted that scallywag Ruggum? Oops, sorry, were you takin’ a nap? Memm Flackery stood framed in the open door, sunlight streaming into the gatehouse around her.

Crikulus’s eyes popped open. He sat up, blinking. Eh? what’s th ...

Oh, it’s you, Memm. Father Abbot, what’re ye doin’ sitting on my chair?

What’s happening?

Swiftly the Abbot slid from the chair arm, making a pretence of searching around the gatehouse. Oh, nothing, sorry we disturbed you. We were searching for little Rug-gum, weren’t we, Memm?

The Harenurse stared stupidly at the furiously winking Abbot. Got somethin’ in your eye? Here, let me take a squint. She rolled an apron corner and licked it.

Apodemus was quickly at her side, muttering, Play along with me!

Memm did not have a clue what was going on. Play along, sari? Righto, what d’you want to play? Hunt the acorn, toss the pebbles? Bit silly playin’ flippin’ games instead of lookin’ for that confounded Ruggum, wot?

Crikulus regarded them both curiously. He was not in the best of humour at having his nap broken. What, pray, are you two gabbling on at, eh?

Can’t I have a bit o’ peace after all I’ve been through? Clear off!

Memm sauntered out of the gatehouse huffily. Hmph, wish we could all sleep the bloomin’ day away, instead of gettin’ our bally jobs done.

Fine state the jolly old Abbey’d be in then. Wot wot wot?

Crikulus was settling back down. As the Abbot was leaving, he tried one more time to fathom the mystery.

I’ll leave you to get on with your nap, old fellow. But just a moment ago, as I came in the gatehouse, you were talking in your sleep. You seemed quite upset.

Crikulus opened one eye. Did I? What was I saying?

The Abbot spoke hesitantly, as if trying to remember, Something about a smell being everywhere and the grass moving. You seemed very unhappy about it all, because you were telling some other beast to run, shouting it aloud. Almost as if something was chasing you both.

Crikulus was wide awake now, and on the alert. Apodemus noted the look of horror on his face as he answered, It was nothing ... only a dream ...

leave me alone, Father!

Apodemus bowed. As you wish. He left the gatehouse.

Log a Log and Skipper were on the ramparts at the northeast corner, staring into the silent fastness of Mossflower Woods, when the Abbot joined them and told them what Crikulus had said.

The Guosim Chieftain felt the fur on his nape prickling. At first I thought they might’ve been attacked by the crows, but this is different.

I don’t like it, Father Abbot. Wot d’you say, Skip? A smell bein’

everywhere an’ grass movin’?

Grasping his javelin, the big otter shook his head. Crows don’t attack at night, leastways I never ‘eard of ‘em doin’ so. Mebbe ‘twas those three stoats trailin’ Malbun an’ Crikulus. They smelt pretty strong, but no worse’n any other vermin that ain’t washed in two seasons. Hmm,

‘tis a puzzler, right enough. May’ap you’n me might go an’ take a look tomorrow, eh, Log? In the meantime, Father Abbot, you’d best forbid anybeast leavin’ the Abbey to go wanderin’ round Mossflower.

Apodemus patted the otter’s well-muscled back. At least until this matter is cleared up. Thank you for your advice, my good friend.

The three stoats had gnawed through the ropes that bound their footpaws together. They sat in the thick woodlands, far from the spot where they had met up with the Red-wallers. Vanquished and humiliated, their mood was far from happy.

Wicky, the self-appointed leader of the trio, flung the rope scraps viciously into the bushes. He curled his lip scornfully at the other two. Hah, youse two was a lot of ‘elp. That shrew ‘ad me down, took me by surprise, ‘e did. Kligger, why didn’t yew grab yore ‘atchet an’

chop ‘im? An yew, Burgogg, fancy lettin’ a h’otter bust yer spear in arf like that. Idjits!

Kligger bared his uneven teeth at Wicky, snarling, Will ye lissen to

‘im?’E jus’ stood there an let the liddle shrew take the sword outta

‘is paws. I was too far away from me ‘atchet, I ‘ad four shrews’ rapiers at me throat. Huh, I didn’t notice yew goin’ for ‘em wid yore sword!

Burgogg picked rope strands from his teeth with a filthy claw. Didyer see the size of that h’otter? I didn’t stan’ a chance. That spear belonged to me old granpa. The shaft was strong as an oak, but ‘e busted it like a twig!

Wicky kicked out at him. Next time you lets a h’otter break your spear, I’ll bust you like a twig!

Burgogg spat at him, but missed. Huh, yew an’ who else, scringenose?

Jus’ try an’ put a paw near me!

Wicky stood up and cast about for a stick. Scringenose, is it? Right, I’ll show yew, barrelbum, toadbelly, plinky-paws!

Burgogg looked hugely offended. Ooh, didyer ‘ear that, ‘e called me plinkypaws. I’ll fetch a coggy lump on yore ‘ead, soon as I finds a good rock!

Kligger rose in disgust. Why don’t youse two give yer gobs a rest. We won’t git our bellies filled by callin’ each other daft names. I ain’t

‘ad vittles fer two days now. Let’s search around fer roots an’ things to eat.

Burgogg clapped a paw to his nose. Phwaw, wot’s that stink?

Wicky caught a waft of the foul odour and blanched. Pew! Yew’d better find a stream an’ gerra bath, yew greasy-eared wibble!

Burgogg looked quizzically at Wicky. Wot’s a wibble?

Wicky spotted something hanging from a tree behind Burgogg and pushed past him, remarking scathingly, I dunno, but if there was a wibble, I bet it’d smell jus’ like yew. An’ you ain’t gettin’ one o’ these!

He gathered up the two cloaks and two lanterns that had belonged to Malbun and Crikulus.

Burgogg’s face fell. Give us one o’ those cloaks. I ain’t got a warm cloak.

Wicky poked out his tongue like a naughty vermin babe. Ho no, yew ain’t gittin’ nothin’. I’ll give one o’ these cloaks an’ a lanting to Kligger, that’ll teach yer t’call me a scringenose. Hoi, Klig, ‘ere’s some booty fer ye!

The odour grew more powerful as he looked around, calling, Kligger, mate, where are yer, ‘ave yew found some vittles? I’ll trade ye, vittles fer a lovely cloak an’ a lanting!

Kligger had found a door, partly open, in the trunk of a great spreading oak. Though the smell was overpowering, he could not resist opening the door fully to see what lay inside.

Wicky and Burgogg heard his scream cut the quiet woodland air like a knife. Aaaaarrrreeeeegh! They dashed toward the sound and saw Kligger as he was dragged into the tunnel beneath the oak. They also saw the thing that had him.

No sound issued from their fear-clamped mouths. Eyes bulging with terror, both stoats stood petrified for a moment. Then the overpowering stench of the thing hit both stoats like a solid wall moving forward. They took to theirpaws and fled, running twice as fast as Malbun and Criku-lus had run.

A short while thereafter, the sounds of Wicky and Bur-gogg had receded into the distance as they tore through the woodlands running due north.

Around the area of the spreading oak, all was silent in the sunlit summer noon. Two cloaks and two lanterns lay forgotten on the ground amid the musty, bittersweet odour.

18

At first the water coming in through the Stopdog’s prow was no more than a healthy trickle. But the flow increased as she sat lower in the sea. Kroova, Scarum and Sagax bailed until they were weary. Then they saw the wind had changed and was blowing away from the shore, which was still a good distance off. Little time was left for tacking, so they furled the sails. Kroova took the bowrope around his shoulders and dived into the waves, towing the Stopdog toward land as his two shipmates, backsore and paw weary, continued bailing.

Scarum’s voice was shaky. I say, hope we make it to dry land, wot. Not too good at the old swimmin’ lark, y’know. The jolly old parents raised a hare, not a flippin’ fish, wot!

Sagax watched Kroova regretfully. There’s the only proper swimmer amongst us, mate. Oh, I can manage what they call a doggie paddle, but I’d hate to have to swim any distance. Land still looks pretty far off.

What in the name of fur’n’feathers are you doing, eating at a time like this?

Despite his woeful demeanour, Scarum was packing down food as though he were facing a famine. Mmff, gr-rmmfff! Eatin’ me fill before all this scoff gets ruined by bally seawater, old lad. Grrrmmmffchomp! No use leavin’ it for the fishesÑwaste not want not, y’know. Scrmmff!

Sagax sent a chunk of laverbread spinning from the hare’s paw. If you can’t swim and you stuff yourself, you’ll go right to the bottom with that weight of food in your stomach. Now, leave that food alone and bail!

Scarum stared guiltily at his midriff. You’re right, of course, never thought of that. Oh, what a confounded, absolutely rotten predicament: not bein’ able to swim on an empty tummy or drownin’ on a full one.

Oh, rats’n’fid-dlesticks an’ beastly bad luck, wot!

Kroova could really feel the drag nowÑthey actually were sinking. But the worthy sea otter laboured on until he heard Sagax calling, Kroova, we’re nearly under, we’d best abandon ship!

Judging the distance and trusting to his knowledge, Kroova shouted back to his distressed friends, Just a bit more. Sling the water out, keep’er head up. I ain’t goin’ to lose me dear old Stopdog just’cos of a leak.

Get t’work, mates, I’ll tell ye when to jump for it!

Water was pouring in as fast as Sagax and Scarum were bailing it out.

From a distance the scene would have looked like a badger and a hare standing on the surface of the sea, throwing water about. Sagax could see Scarum beginning to flag badly The hare had started bailing like a madbeast, but the gruelling toll was wearing him down.

Then the waves splashed in over the rails, swamping the ketch completely as the Stopdog sank.

Away, crew! Abandon ship, me’earties!

At the sound of Kroova’s call they both leaped into the sea. Scarum let out an almighty spluttering yell. Floundering wildly, he grabbed at Sagax. The young badger was about to shout for Kroova to come and help them when his footpaws touched bottom.

The sea otter floated on his back, still holding the rope and laughing at them. Sucking up a mouthful of seawater, he squirted it at his bewildered friends. Haharrharr! We made it, mateys, we made it!

Sagax and Scarum were standing with the water at chest height in the shallow seas offshore. Forgetting his former panic, Scarum waded toward Kroova, berating him.

You! Y’great barnacle-ruddered, slipskinned, splay-pawed bounder!

Allowin’ a chap t’think he was drownin’. Not very funny, I’d say, wot.

No sah, not the least bit droll!

Sagax splashed water in the hare’s face and chuckled. He saved us, didn’t he? What more d’you want? Ahoy, mate, why did you wait so long before you told us to abandon ship? You had me a bit worried there!

Kroova explained the reason for his strange behaviour. See those rocks stickin’ up out of the sea yonder? Well, I tell ye, 1 was worried too, until I spotted’em. Then I knew: This is a great big reef! Look be’ind you, see where the water goes from light to dark blue? That’s the edge.

I fig-gered if’n we could sail’er out o’ the deep an’ onto this ledge, we could not only wade ashore, but I could save ole Stopdog by runniner onto the reef. If the tide takes a good long ebb around’ere, there’s a chance we can tow’er ashore an’ beach’er for repairs. Come on, mateys,’tis only a brisk wade to dry land!

Making the headrope fast to a small rock poking out of the water, Kroova ensured that their boat would not be swept away. Side by side, they waded wearily forward. The beach looked to be sandy, though strewn with outcrops of rock. The water was now about waist height.

Scarum’s mood had changed, and he was feeling happy One thing about bein’ a jolly old shipwrecked seabeast, it works up a good appetite, wot. Right chaps, when we get ashore I’m in charge of the foragin’ party.

Though I warn you, I’m a pretty stern commandin’ type, so you’d best find loads of scoff, or you’ll have me to deal with!

Sagax glanced back over his shoulder. The Stopdog’smasts could be seen sticking up at a tilt out of the waves. Suddenly a sinister triangular fin appeared, passing the sunken craft, heading their way.

Shark! Quick, charge for the shore, shark!

However, charging through waist-deep seas would be slow and difficult.

Kroova slapped their backs.

Get ahead, mates, move yoreselves! It’s comin’ after us! Turning away from them, the sea otter plunged into the waves and swam straight for the big fish.

Without looking back, Sagax and Scarum plunged ahead, the going getting better as the water ran shallower. With tiny ripplets splashing round their paws, the pair made it onto the firm wet sands.

Scarum sat down, badly frightened and shaking. Sagax threw himself next to him, panting heavily as he stared around. Where’s Kroo... Oh, great blood’n’vinegar, look out there!

Kroova was at waist depth, with the shark circling him. The sea otter had hold of something. He tugged it this way and that, sometimes tugging it sharply, which seemed to send the great seabeast in another direction.

Seawater, pounded creamy white by the struggle, leaped high about Kroova and the shark.

Scarum gnawed at his whiskers in anguish at the dangerous spectacle.

Oh my fat aunt, it’s followin’ him in!

Then Sagax saw what Kroova had hold of. No, he’s towing it! That’s a ropeÑit’s stuck to the shark somehow. He’s playing it as if he were fishing!

They both jumped up, yelling and bawling.

Don’t let it get you, mate, stay clear!

Watch the blighter, old lad, he’s got better teeth than me!

Rolling and thrashing, the shark showed its huge pale underbelly. They saw its wicked round eye and rows of curved, razorlike teeth. It made a dive at Kroova. The sea otter leaped the opposite way and hauled the rope hard, forcing his adversary to flounder off in another direction.

All the time the two were getting closer to the shore.

Now the shark’s body was sticking up out of the water. It would not give up, though it was beginning to roll and flop slightly. Suddenly Kroova whipped the rope deftly round a nub of rock and raced to the safety of dry land.

The two friends helped him ashore, where he sat blowing and heaving awhile before turning to Scarum with a comical grin on his tough face.

That there shark’s an ole pal o’ yores, messmate. See the rope ‘angin’

out its mouth? That’s the one you caught it on. The villain’s still got yore ‘ook stuck in its mouth!

Scarum stared in amazement at the fish, which, now that it could stretch the rope by pulling against it, was biting through the fibres.

Good grief, so it is. The hare began shouting at the shark. Hi there, old lad! Remember me, the chap you took for a boat ride? Hoho, missed me again, didn’t you? Silly great blighter, that’ll teach you t’mess with fearless seafarers. Go on, be off with you, fishface!

At that moment the rope snapped and the shark wallowed awkwardly out to deep water again, still towing a small tail of rope from its mouth.

Scarum flung several pebbles after it. Call back anytime if y’want more of the same, wot!

Arrh, weel now, sorr, ye must be awful brave beasts!

They turned to see a little hogmaid standing watching them. She had her headspikes tipped with flowers and wore a clean tunic of green woven linen with a flowery patterned pinafore over it.

Scarum put on a courageous, carefree face. All part of the job, pretty miss. We’re shark hunters really, chase the old sea monsters hither an’ thither, wot. Not a bally shark in the seas won’t turn tail an’

run at the mention of us. So then, me spiked beauty, where d’you live?

Completely friendly, the little hogmaid took Scarum’s paw. If yore honour’ll come wid me, I’ll be showin’ ye.

The hare nodded at his companions to follow. Making an elegant leg at the little hogmaid, he allowed her to lead him off to some dunelands backing the shore.

It’ll be a pleasure, m’gel. I’ll go with anybeast who looks as plump an’ jolly well fed as you. Your family got plenty of grub, have they?

Hawhaw, lead on, little charmer!

A hogwife appeared on the dunetops, waving a ladle as she called to the little hogmaid, Is that yourself, Fridilo Migooch? An’ wot’ve ye been told about wand’rin’ off alone? Tis a ladle I should be takin’

to yer tailspikes. Ah shure an’ where in the name o’ fleas did ye find those three raggity ould tramps?

Scarum murmured to Kroova, Raggedy ould tramps, I say! Bit much, isn’t it, wot wot?

The sea otter winked at him. Leave this t’me, mate. He bounded up the dune and smiled disarmingly at the hog-wife.

Pleasant day to ye, inarm. We’re pore shipwrecked creatures who found yore liddle ‘un lost, so we was just bringiner back ‘ome to ye.

The hogwife waved her ladle at Fridilo. That’n lost? Arrh, ‘way with ye, she’s no more lost than a dumplin’ in a soup pot. So now, ‘tis yoreself an’ those other two a-fetchin’ the babe home. At least yore not pirates.

Ye look fair famished, all of ye. I’m thinkin’ ye’d best come t’the tenty an’ take an’ ould gobfull.

Scarum was beside her in a bound, holding the little one in his paws, grinning bravely as he was prickled by her. My dear lady, I take it that you mean we’re invited to dinner. May I express the hope that it tastes as good as you look, beautiful creature, wot!

A half-smile appeared on the hogwife’s homely features. Away with ye, y’great silver-tongued ould hooligan, I’m not yer dear lady. I’m Mammee Migooch, so I am!

The tentys, as Mammee called them, were great sand-coloured tents of hessian weave, almost invisible among the dunes. They were the home of the roving Migooch tribe, nomad hogs who wandered the coastline.

There were roughly a hundred of them, all shapes and sizes, cheerful creatures who lived from day to day without any thought for the morrow.

The travellers stood to one side as Fridilo related the shark incident with lots of comical dancing and rapid baby talk. When she was done, a fat old male, wearing a tattered straw hat and a soupstained smock, shook Kroova’s paw heartily.

Arrh, antis yoreself the great shark wrestler? I raise me hat t’ye, sorr, I do indeed. Cumarnee Migooch is proud t’be shakin’ the paw that shook a shark!

Scarum strode forward, flexing his ears. Actually, old chap, ‘twas me who wrestled the blighter, doncha know. When the jolly old shark was worn out, I sent Kroova in to deal him a whack or two, Scarum Sharkslayer at y’service, sah!

Cumarnee raised his bushy eyebrows. Weel now, aren’t ye the bold feller?

We’ll take a trip down t’the shore later an’ let ye show us how you wrestle wid d’great sharks. How’ll that suit ye?

The garrulous hare had his answer ready. Er, I’m restin’ at the moment.

Besides, y’won’t see a fin for miles around. Sharks know I’m here, y’see.

Oh yes, mention Scarum Sharkslayer an’ they paddle off pretty fast.

Can’t blame the poor cads really, can you, wot!

A pretty hogmaid of about sixteen seasons gazed adoringly at Scarum.

Faith, sorr, ye must’ve had some tumble times wid the ould sharks. I’d be afeared just to see one!

Sagax and Kroova were having trouble stifling their laughter. The hare glared at them and whispered, Titter not, chaps, got to impress the locals. They don’t give tramps very big portions, y’know. But I’ll bet they feed heroes like bloomin’ kings.

He turned to the hogmaid. No need t’be feared of sharks, m’dear, not whilst I’m around. Just before we go in to dinner, let me tell you the story of how I fought the great giant monster hog-eatin’ shark. Hah, that was a day I’ll never forget, eh, wot!

The Migooch tribe loved nothing better than a good story. They sat down on the sand and listened to Scarum’s horrendous, and totally untrue, account. He strutted about with his chest puffed out, shutting one eye and glaring ferociously at his audience.

This happened down the coast, south from Salaman-dastron, about, er, two summers ago. Were any of you chaps there at the time?

An oldster raised his paw. Meself was there, sorr!

Scarum twitched his whiskers. Er, no, ‘twas three summers back, now I come t’think of it. Paws up, anybeast who was there three summers back?

No paws were raised, so the hare continued with his lies. Ah yes, chaps’n’chapesses, ‘twas a bright sunny day an’ I was walkin’ along the shore, when all of a bally sudden two small hedgehogs, dear little types, came chargin’ out of the sea, cryin’ an’ wailin’ in pitiful voices.

Ho, Scarum Sharkslayer, they cried, save our granma!

A hogmaid tugged at Scarum’s footpaw. Pray, sorr, what was their names?

He stared down at the hogmaid. Don’t know, m’dear, I’d never met ‘em before. Now sit quietly an’ listen.

But she would not. Arrh, weel how did they know your name if ye didn’t know theirs, ‘cos you’d never met ‘em afore?

Scarum fixed her with an icy smile. Because, my inquisitive beauty, everybeast down that way knows the name of Scarum Sharkslayer, wot!

The oldster raised his paw. But I was never knowin’ your name afore today, sorr, an’ I been down thataways many times.

Shaking with mirth, Sagax and Kroova held their sides as Scarum began losing patience with his audience. He bellowed at the oldster, Well, y’must be flippin’ well deaf if you’ve been down south of Salamandastron an’ never bloomin’ well heard of Scarum Sharkslayer. Now shut your snout an’ listen!

He was about to continue when another paw was raised. Beggin’ yer pardon, sorr, but what was that shark’s name?

How should I flippin’ well know? Scarum roared. The blighter didn’t have a name, it was ... it was the blinkin’ great, bloomin’ giant, confounded monster, wot-jermacallit, hog-eatin’ shark. At least that’s what all the hedgehogs called it. Satisfied, eh, wot?

A hogwife shook her head wonderingly. Ah now, isn’t that the grand ould name for such a beast!

The hog sitting next to her ventured his opinion. D’ye think so? Well, I’m a hedgehog, so I am, an’ I never knew a shark with a name like that.

What was it called again, yer honour, I might be rememberin’ if’n ye tell me?

The hare danced up and down, waving his paws. The thing wotsabloomin’

name shark-eatin’ monster hog!

The little hogmaid tugged his footpaw again. Ah now, that’s not what ye said the first time, sorr.

The rest of the audience began discussing it among themselves, ignoring the storyteller.

Shure the maid’s right, he said a different name!

Away with ye, how’d you know, you was half asleep!

What, a monster shark-eatin’ hog? I’m thinkin’ that Scarum feller’s been out in the sun too long!

Ah now, you leave him alone, doesn’t he tell a fine ould tale. You go on, sorr, we’re lissenin’ to ye!

You lissenin’, hah,’twas you doin’ all the interrupting I take that from nobeast, stand up an’ say it t’me face if’n ye dare!

The storytelling became an argument, which broke out into a fight. Scarum gave up and sat down with his head in his paws. Sagax and Kroova were helpless with laughter as Cumarnee led them off.

Come an’ get some vittles. I forgot to tell your friend that the Migooch tribe is tumble at arguin’ an’ fightin’, so they are!

They were treated to huge bowls of vegetable soup, hot brown bread and some delicious mixed berry cordial, followed by an apple and pear turnover. Whilst they dined, the tent shook and bellied as the conflict raged outside. Cumarnee and Mammee carried on eating as though nothing was happening.

Cries from the combatants echoed round the dunes as Cumarnee and his wife passed the pie and poured cordial.

Take that, y’ould pincushion!

Yowch! Wait’ll I get me paws on ye!

I say there, chaps, steady on. Oof!

Owp! Kick me, would ye, well try this fer size!

Yerrrk! Ye great lump, you bit me nose, take that!

Steady on, chaps, now stop all this fightin’. Ooch!

Scarum staggered into the tent, one eye half-closed and rapidly changing colour, his nose looking puffy and swollen. Cumarnee moved over and made a place for him to sit.

The hedgehog chuckled. So now, me bold beast, how did the story end?

Scarum touched his swollen nose and winced.

The shark ate me, I think. Jolly ungrateful lot, your tribe. I say, that turnover looks rather good!

Kroova licked his lips and grinned happily. It certainly was, me old messmate. I’m just eatin’ the last slice.

The hare’s ears drooped in dejection as he gazed longingly toward the pot. An’ the soup?

Mammee picked up her ladle. Tis all gone nearly, but I’ll scrape ye up a drop from it. Here, take this ould crust of bread, sorr, ‘tis the last bit. Have ye any cordial left fer the great Sharkslayer?

Little Fridilo shook the empty flagon. None at all, Mammee, but there’s a beaker of fresh water over here. Drink that, sorr, ‘twill do ye good.

As Sagax and Kroova discussed the possibility of the Migooch tribe helping with the repairs to their ship, Scarum could be heard muttering complaints to himself.

Rotten lot, hoggin’ all the scoff while a chap’s out there defendin’

his reputation an’ tryin’ to restore order. Huh, I’d sooner face a score of sharks any day. Savage cads, bad-mannered bounders, hope a bloomtn’

great shark comes along an’ eats them all, wot!

19

In the misty dawn of the following day, they went out to the ledge, accompanied by all the able-bodied hogs of the Migooch tribe. It was the time of day when the tide was at its lowest ebb. The ketch Stopdog lay heeled over, almost high and dry.

Kroova stood on the tideline, explaining what was to be done. We’ve got to get’er back’ere for fixin’. I know she ain’t a big craft, but’twill be’eavy goin’.

Cumarnee spat on his paws and rubbed them together. Ah, now don’t ye fret. Us Migooches are well up t’the job!

He was right. The tribe were expert salvagers, having spent their lives living off the flotsam and jetsam thrown up by the seas on all types of coastlines.

Carrying huge coils of rope and pushing a cartload of rounded wood logs, they padded out over the wet sand. When they reached the ketch, Cumarnee began shouting orders to his tribe. Sagax was surprised at the energy and obedience of the normally disorganised beasts.

Hear me now, buckoes, Cumarnee yelled. Make fast those lines t’the bowsprit, for’ard peak an’ amidships. I’ll draw ye a grand ould line in the sand with me stick, lay the logs straight on it. That’s the way, yer doin’ a lovverly job. Right now, shoulder those ropes an’ I’ll mark the pullin’ time for ye with an ould shanty!

Cumarnee perched in the lopsided bows of the Stop-dog, singing the hauling shanty, the pullers joining him on the appropriate lines as the ketch rolled forward on the logs.

Ahoy, me lads, when I was young, Many’s the lively song I sung. Way haul away! Way haul away! Me paw was strong, me back was, too, I’d pull a ship from under you. Way haul away! Way haul away! An’ though’tis not me way t’boast, I’ve towed a ship off many a coast. Way haul away!

Way haul away! We’ll pull’er to the sandy shores, So bend yer back, dig in yer paws. Way haul away! Way haul away! For when I was a babe so young, Me mother o’er me cradle sung. Way haul away! Way haul away!

Kroova and Sagax were out in front, ropes looped about their shoulders, hauling heartily with the hedgehogs. The badger nudged the sea otter.

Scarum’s on the midship side with a rope, can you hear him?

Kroova smiled as he listened to the hare’s nautical bellows.

When I get our ship to the shore,

I’ll need some scoff an’ then lots more.

You can haul away! I’ll just eat all day!

Soup’n’salad, pudden an’ pie,

Just load me plate up, don’t ask why.

Bloomin’ rotten hogs! Scoff-pinchin’ dogs!

Mammee and some others were waiting the other side of the tideline with a couple of pails full of nettle-and-dandelion beer. No sooner was the Stopdog dragged onto the warm dry sand than the toilers cast aside their ropes and gratefully gulped down great beakers to quench their thirst.

However, their rest was short-lived. Cumarnee soon had them up on their paws again, bustling about as he sent his orders left, right and centre.

Tis a good fire I’ll be needin’! Light one right here! Build me an ould sandhill, a long one, about the height of the Stopdog’s decks. Here now, start pilin’ up the sand alongside the ship. Mammee, did ye bring along the pitch an’ resin with ye? Bring it here t’me. Fridilo, me likkle dar-lin’, fetch me that ould bushy rope. Aye, that’s it!

Sagax and Kroova helped to build the long sandhill and wedge the Stopdog hard up against it. Another sandhill was built on the vessel’s other side, so that she stood straight and upright. They sat, taking a rest, sipping beakers of nettle-and-dandelion beer, watching the pitch and resin bubbling together in a cauldron over the fire.

Kroova’s eyes searched among the workers. I don’t see Scarum around, ain’t seen ‘im in a while. Any ideas where that flopeared layabout’s got to, mate?

Sagax refilled his beaker. Anywhere there’s food, that’s where you’ll find him, I suppose. That pitch and resin looks about ready.

The crew went back to work, plugging up the gaps between the planking staves of the Stopdog’s bows. Old rope was hammered into the cracks with mallets and flat-bladed chisels, after which the molten pitch and resin were poured liberally over the whole job. By early evening the ketch was completely shipshape and watertight once more.

Sagax congratulated Cumarnee and the Migooch tribe. Thank you, friends, thank you for your hard work and fine skills. I don’t know how we’d have managed without your help. Alas, my friends and I have nothing to offer you in return but our gratitude.

Cumarnee swiped playfully at them with his straw hat. Arrh, away with ye, we did it ‘cos yer grand beasts an’ we’ve takin’ a likin’ to ye.

A Migooch doesn’t look for any reward from friends, at all at all!

All the Migooches shook their heads and echoed the words. At all at all, ah no, not at all!

Mammee waved her ladle at them. Faith, an’ will ye be after standin’

there all day, tellin’ each other wot fine creatures ye are, or will I go back to the tenty to cook dinner an’ eat it meself?

The sudden mention of food to hungry workers sent them all trudging smartly back to the tents.

Sagax covered his eyes and groaned at the sight that greeted him on entering the tent. Oh no!

Snoring blissfully, Scarum lay amid a debris of half-eaten pies, breadcrusts, salad scraps, empty flagons and the remains of what had once been a large fruitcake. The hare’s stomach resembled an inflated balloon. His whiskers, ears and nose were liberally sprinkled with crumbs.

Some of the Migooch hogs regarded him with awe.

Muther Nature, will ye look at him!

Ah shure, he must be a grand ould scoffer!

The bold feller must have t’keep up his strength after wrasslin’ an’

slayin’ all those sharks!

Kroova and Sagax had never felt so embarrassed in their lives. Shamefaced, the otter averted his eyes from Mammee. Marm, what can we say, after all yore ‘ospitality, for a friend of ours t’do this!

The good hogwife patted his paw comfortingly. Ah now, don’t be fussin’

yerself, ‘twas not yore fault a hare has the appetite of a wolfpack.

Wot d’ye say we do about it, Cumarnee?

The Chieftain of the Migooches had the answer instantly. Do? Is it me advice yer after askin’? Well, I’ll tell ye! We goes to yer sister’s tenty for dinnerÑshe’s gotten more vittles than ye could shake a stick at. Arrh now, Mr. Sagax, an yerself, Mr. Kroova, if’n ye’ll permit me,’tis me-self will decide a penance for the bold Scarum. Now don’t be worryin’, I won’t go too hard on the ould beast. He can’t help bein’

a hare, after all.

Sagax bowed respectfully to Cumarnee’s wish. You can do what you like with the villain, sir. No penance could be too severe for a creature who abuses a friend’s good nature. We leave him in your capable paws.

Mammee’s sister Roobee was a jolly fat sort, and the equal of her kinhog at cooking. They sat down to a spread of cabbage’n’turnip pasties, carrot’n’mushroom bake topped with cheese, wild beetroot soup, and Roobee’s special baked fruitloaf, with elderberry and plum cordial, or pen-nycress and comfrey tea for those who liked it. Roobee’s husband, Birty, thought Scarum’s gluttony was hilarious and kept remarking upon it.

Heeheehee, curl me spikes, that Scarum Sharkslayer’s a real boyo. He’s got a belly on him like an ould stuffed duck. I wager his ma danced a jig the day he left home!

Roobee noticed Sagax and Kroova’s silence at Scarum’s gluttonous acts.

She nudged her husband none too gently. Arrh, will ye shove some vittles in yer ould gob an’ give it somethin’ useful t’do, Birty. Eat up an’

hold yer peace!

That night they all slept in Roobee’s tent, leaving the disgraced Scarum to himself.

Dawn came misty, with a light drizzle that would give way to brighter weather in the course of the day. Scarum slowly sat up, clutching his stomach, alone in the deserted tent.

Ooooh, me poor old turn. I say, you chaps, just leave me here to die, would you? Tell my ma that the last words her sufferin’ son spoke were’no breakfast this mornin’ for me!’

He groped around in the grey half-light and groaned. Cor, sufferin’

icecakes! What sort of a bally good mornin’ is this, wot? A faithful pal lyin’ here with his head bangin’ an’ his tummy bustin’, and not a flamin’ beast around to comfort him. Rotters, I s’pose they’re all out fixin’ that blinkin’ boat, thoughtless lot o’ bounders!

Staggering out of the tent, he spotted a firelight shining through the walls of Roobee’s dwelling. Hah, now that’s more the ticket, wot. A jolly good fire to sit by whilst some good-natured hogwife fetches a chap a drop or two of herbal tea to bring him round. Splendid!

Entering the tent, Scarum got quite the reverse of what he had been expecting. It was a makeshift court, with Mi-gooch hogs sitting solemn-faced and silent. Cumarnee seemed to be presiding, with Sagax and Kroova standing stiffly either side of him. Scarum gave them a feeble smile, but received only stern glares.

Er, haha, I say, wot. Bit gloomy this mornin’, ain’t it?

The tribe leader’s voice lanced into his aching head. Be it known to all the hogs of Migooch that this creature stands accused of idleness, slacking, la/iness, vittle robbery and damage to pies, cakes, salads and other sundry eatables. What has the accused to say in his defence?

Clutching his stomach, Scarum stammered and waffled. Er, wot, er, steady on, chaps, can’t blame a young hare for havin’ a measly snack, especially a shipwrecked type.

Cumarnee stamped his footpaw down hard. Silence! He approached the hare, pointing accusingly at him.

Babes had to go hungry to their beds because of you! Hogwives were left weeping over their spoiled supplies because of you! Workers who had laboured hard all day, repairing your vessel, were left starving because of you! 1 want a show of paws. Do we find this hare guilty?

Every paw in the tent shot up, and there was a loud shout. Guilty!

Pleadingly, Scarum looked toward his two cold-eyed friends. Sagax, Kroova, my faithful old messmates, can’tyou put in a jolly good word or two for a chum, wot wot? The young badger shook his head. Sorry, it’s not up to us. The Migooch tribe’s laws have been broken; you must answer to them. The only advice I can give is, stand up straight like a Salamandastron hare and take the medicine Cumarnee dishes out to you.

Scarum tried to straighten up, but his aching stomach kept him half bent. His ears drooped limply. He looked mournfully at Cumarnee and spoke in a hoarse whisper. Sentence me t’be slain, sah, it’ll put me out of my misery. Tell me dear old ma an’ pa that it was my stomach which caused all the trouble, not me!

Cumarnee shook his head resolutely. Death? Hoho, me fine buckoe, that’d be too easy. Your punishmentll be to serve the Migooches as a slave for ten seasons, no, better make that twenty!

Several hogs nodded. Aye, twenty, that’s about right for the tumble ould glutton, twenty good long seasons!

Scarum’s face was the picture of shock and misery. Twenty blinkin’

seasons, that’s a bit jolly much, wot? I’ll be on a perishin’ walkin’

stick, old’n’grey by the time twenty confounded seasons have passed.

O mercy!

However, the stern, righteous faces of the Migooch tribe dashed any of the hare’s hopes for leniency.

The Stopdog bobbed at anchor, repaired and provisioned, straining at her bowline as high tide swelled, like a dog eager to be unleashed.

Followed by all of the Migooch hogs, Sagax and Kroova waded out to the ketch. The pair climbed aboard and made ready to sail.

Cumarnee and Mammee exchanged paw shakes with them. May the wind be at yer back an’ the sun not in yer eyes!

Thankee, marm, an’ our thanks for loadin’ us up with yore fine vittles.

We’ll think of ye when we’re eatinem!

Sagax saw Scarum standing dejectedly nearby, ears drooping, tears dropping from his cheeks to mingle with the salt water. Cumarnee shook the young badger’s paw, passing him a secret wink.

Weel now, me buckoe, I’m hopin’ ye find Redwall. Good fortune attend ye on yer voyage!

Sagax made sure Scarum was not watching as he returned the Migooch Chieftain’s wink. My thanks to you, sir. I’m just sorry that our visit was ruined by that hare’s unforgivable behaviour. I trust you’ll make him serve every day of his sentence and work him hard!

Cumarnee stroked his headspikes pensively. Ah now, I was meanin’ to mention that to ye. Twenty seasons is a long time t’be feedin’ some ould gluttonfaced rabbit. Would ye not think of takin’ him back to do his penance aboard the Stopdog, afore he eats us out o’ spikes ‘n’home?

Sagax shook his head firmly. No sir, a glutton’s a glutton no matter where he is, on land or sea. He’ll never repent.

Scarum knelt. With the water lapping his chin and his paws clasped beseechingly, he moaned aloud to his two friends, I’ll change me ways, I’ll be good! Only take me aboard! I’ll do all the work, scoff’11 scarcely pass my lips, you’ll see! Don’t leave me here for twenty seasons with these spiky savages, oh, er, I mean dear little hoggybeasts. Sagax, Kroova, dear old jolly old faithful old pals, I’ll do any bally thing for you, just take me aboard!

Sagax looked doubtfully at Kroova. What d’you think?

The sea otter tapped his rudder up and down. Hmm, ain’t much of a catch, is he?

As he was talking, Kroova was untying the bowrope from its rock mooring.

But I wouldn’t feel right, inflictin’ Scarum on our good’edgehog friends for twenty seasons. Oh well, I s’pose we’ll’ave to put up with’im. Come on, you lopeared excuse for a messmate, git aboard!

With a bound, Scarum landed on the Stopdog’s deck, playing his new role as beast of all work. Now, sit back an’ put y’paws up, you chaps, leave this t’me. I’ll see to the wotsits an’ unfurl the hoojimacallits an’

till the turnerÑI mean turn the tiller, wot wot wot!

With a twinkle in his eye, Cumarnee called out as he and his hogs waved goodbye, Now, go easy on those pore sharks, an’ don’t slay too many!

Evening sun reddened over a placid sea as the three travelers continued their course northward. By this time Scarum had taken on a change of mood.

Huh, are you two blighters goin’ t’sit there forever with your paws up? Lazy bounders, a chap needs help around here. What d’ye think I am, a one-hare crew? Sagax, why don’t you take the tiller, an’ Kroova can manage those ropes an’ sails. I’ll make the supper. Ah, supper, what a jolly nice thought. All’s I’ve had to eat was a snack last night.

Flamin’ famine-faced hogs, wot? That Mammee gave me a whack on the paw with a ladle when I mentioned brekkers this mornin’, flippin’ spiky old tyrant!

Sagax reached out with a powerful paw and grabbed Scarum by the scruff of the neck. He had him half overboard in a trice. One more word and I’ll make you swim back to serve your twenty seasons with those spiky old tyrants!

Kroova smiled wryly, shaking his head. Ole Scarum don’t change much, does’e?

Sagax was also smiling as he whispered in Kroova’s ear. I wouldn’t want him to, would you? This would be a dull, boring trip with a well-behaved hare for company.

20

Kurda pointed with her sabre at the rock sticking up in the distance, framed purple by the setting sun, Vot is dat island called?

Plugg Firetail had already seen it; he did not even turn to look at Peace Island. That ain’t no island,’tis nought but a big rock stickin’

up out o’ the main. A big lump o’ stone, that’s all.

The ferret Princess kept her sword pointed at the object. You vill sail over dere. I vant to see it, yarr!

Slitfang was on duty as steersbeast. Plugg gave him a look. Keep’er steady on course, I’m the Cap’n o’ the Seascab. He turned his attention back to Kurda.

Yore daddy didn’t say nothin’ about stoppin’ ter look at rocks. My job is t’get ye to Mossflower country an’ catch those runaways if’n we spots’em. Now, why don’t yer let me gerron wid me job. Go an’ lissen t’the crew entertainin’ themselves on the fo’c’sle’ead. Run along now, there’s a good liddle missy!

The Pure Ferret’s eyes blazed scarlet in the setting sun-rays. Von day I cut out your insolent tongue, Freebooter.

Seething with rage, she strode off to the forecastle of the big ship.

Plugg grinned at Slitfang. That proud liddle beauty frightens me t’death.

Hawhawhaw!

Prince Bladd was seated amidst the crew. Tazzin and Grubbage had their paws around his shoulders, teaching him an old Freebooter ditty: Ho’tis nice t’be a villain, wot all honest creatures fears, An’ terrorise the beasts for miles around.

Their scringin’ wails fer mercy is music to me ears, Aye us bad’uns loves to’ear that mournful sound!

A weasel twiddled the last two words on a one-string fiddle as the Freebooter crew echoed them soulfully: Mawhawhawhawnful soooound!

A searat with a ribbon-braided beard took the next verse.

Lissen, mate, I’m tellin’ you, we’re a dirty desperate crew, Each wid a cloud o’ flies around’is’ead.

Filthy Fox an’ Fatty Ferret an’ old Stinky Weasel, too, We’re enough to fill an’onest soul with dread!

Wihhihith derrrread!

He threw his paw affectionately around another searat.

Lookit my old matey’ere, we all calls’im Ripper Rat, Wid no tail, one eye, anarf a greasy ear, Burnt down’is granpa’s’ouse, now wot do ye think o’ that, Just because’is granny called’im’er sweet dear!

Sweeeheet deeeeear!

Ripper smiled bashfully. Pointing at another crewbeast, he sang: Now you take this bully’ere, Scummy Stoat’s’is given name, ÔE’s never’ad a bath,’e’s proud ter say,

‘Til one day far out at sea,’e fell in the watery main, An’ the fishes all jumped out an’ ran away!

Rahaaan awaaaaay!

Grubbage wiped away a tear and blew his snout on Prince Bladd’s embroidered sleeve. Ain’t it luvverly? That’s me favourite ditty.

Though I can’t’elp sheddin’ a tear at the verse where old Scummy fell overboard, it breaks me’eart, mate, every time!

Kurda did not like what she saw. The Riftgard soldier rats were mingling with Plugg’s crew in a free and easy manner. She called their captain to her. Riftun, get de guards down der maindeck. You vill tell dem to stay avay from de Freebooters. Make dem see to their uniforms an’ keep de spears sharp an’ polished!

Keeping his expression blank, Riftun saluted with his spear. I’ll see to it right away, yore’ighness!

Watching from the stern deck, Plugg nodded approvingly. Now, there’s a maid after me own’eart. It ain’t good manners t’make shipmates o’

those Riftgard rats, especially when we’re gonna slay’em later on. Not nice, Slit-fang, I don’t’old wid false’ood.

The steersbeast chuckled. Yore a real gentlefox, Cap’n!

The vast dark bulk of the Seascab plowed on into the night.

Next day was well advanced when Triss and Shogg took their leave of Peace Island. Bistort waited patiently by as they made their farewells to newfound friends.

Welfo stood paw in paw with Urtica, tears shining in her eyes. Say you’ll come back one day, please!

Triss was lost for words, but Shogg replied, We’d be lyin’ if we did, you know that, mate. But no matter where we goes, you’ll be in our thoughts, you’n’Urtica. So both of ye,’ave a good’n’appy life, an’

remember us fondly, that’s the best thing for all. Goodbye, friends!

Bistort caught the otter’s glance and nodded. Come now, else’twill be dark ere you reach your ship. He strode off swiftly, and they followed him without a backward look.

A long meandering fault in the rock ran from the crater rim down to their vessel, which lay hidden in a secret cove. There were pegs, a long rope and some rough steps at intervals. Bistort left them on the rim.

Thy craft lies ready. I wish to thank thee for bringing Welfo to our island. She will be a wife to my son and a daughter to Downyrose and myself. Mayhap the seas will carry ye back this way one day, who knows?

Speak no more now, but go, Let good fortune attend thee and may thy desires be fulfilled, the earth needs good creatures like thee.

No sooner had they cast off than the small craft was swept out into a swiftly running sea, even without the aid of a sail. Triss took the tiller as Shogg unfurled the sail and trimmed up the ropes. The sea made little noise. There were no crests of white foam on the grey-green waves, which moved with an alarming speed and smoothness. When Triss looked back, Peace Island was far away and rapidly diminishing below the horizon.

There was little time for talk or reflection as they hurtled along with the massive oily swells. Shogg relieved the squirrelmaid at the tiller, allowing her to prepare some food for them both. Triss glanced anxiously at the towering green walls of water as the ketch scudded from valley to peak of each one. There was hardly any wind, yet the current was running faster.

She enquired cautiously of her friend, Are we still on course, Shogg?

Staring dead ahead and clenching the tiller tight, the otter replied, Can’t say, matey, we’ve even lost sight o’ the island to use as a point.

I reckon we’ll do well just to stay alive in waters like these. Better reef in our sail, Triss, afore a wind springs up. It might come from the wrong direction, an’ these waves’d swamp us.

There was no sign of the high seas abating as darkness fell. It was going to be a long and sleepless night. Taking a crust of bread and a flagon of water, Triss stationed herself in the bows, keeping a lookout for anything at all that lay ahead. She found herself gazing over desolate watery wastes every time they rose on the waveswell.

Shogg manoeuvred the tiller, hoping against hope that Triss might sight land. Dark cloud masses, muddy purple and smoky cream, began obscuring the stars as they boiled up over the horizon ahead. There was no hint of a breeze. Then suddenly an earth-shattering boom crashed overhead and lightning ripped the heavens into fleeting brightness.

Shogg roared at Triss, Get back’ere with me, there’s a big storm brewin’!

The wind came then, howling out of nowhere. It soaked Triss, whipping water over the bows as she retreated to the stern and grabbed the tiller with Shogg.

Squinting their eyes against the blinding rain, they huddled together, awed by the mighty forces of nature. Every moment Shogg expected one of the mountainous waves to crash down on the tiny craft, but miraculously it stayed afloat, still whipping onward over the storm-rent deeps.

Triss dashed water from her eyes, pointing ahead. What’s that?

Shogg saw it also. A light, it’s a light!

Seaspray washed into the squirrelmaid’s mouth as she shouted to make herself heard. Is it land, Shogg?

Prince Bladd lay in his bunk, a blanket wrapped about his head as he wailed in terror, Der shtorm, it vill sink de boat! Help me!

At that same moment, Kurda staggered across the deck, holding on to Captain Riftun’s spearhaft as he went ahead of her. They barged into Plugg’s cabin, where the fox was swilling grog with Tazzin and Grubbage.

He looked up.

Aharr, ‘tis the lovely Princess ‘erself. Wot can ole Cap’n Plugg do for ye on such a pleasant night, me dearie?

Kurda was shaken by the sudden storm, but she would not let the Freebooter see her fear. Is der ship in danger? Vill de shtorm sink us?

Plugg, grog slopping down his chin, grinned crookedly. Nah, it wouldn’t dare sink a ship carryin’ a prince an’ a princess, specially one who’s as good wid a sword as you!

Riftun banged his spear angrily on the table. Watch yore mouth, Plugg.

Is there a safe cabin aboard, one where Princess Kurda can ride out the storm?

Plugg gestured upward with his grog beaker. Aye, there’s one above this on the stern peak, comfy liddle berth. I usually sleep there meself, but ‘er ‘igh royalness can ‘ave it fer the night. Best cabin on the ole Seascab, still as a rock an’ safe as ‘ouses!

Kurda rapped out imperiously. It vill do for der night. Captain Riftun, you vill take me dere!

A mixture of wind, rain and seaspray whooshed into the cabin as Riftun opened the door. He was slammed back against the bulkhead, Kurda with him.

Plugg roared at them, Gerrout an’ shut that door!

The pair departed, with the rat captain struggling to close the door behind them. In the silence that followed, the silver fox hooted with laughter.

Aharrharrharr! Still as a rock an’ safe as ‘ouses? Hawhawhaw! She’ll spend the night goin’ up an’ down like a toad in a bucket. I’ll teach the snotnosed liddle whelp t’stand there givin’ Plugg Firetail orders.

Hawhawhaw!

Grubbage, as usual, had not heard his captain properly. But he joined in the laughter, pretending he had. Heeheehee! A frog an’ a fly take borders. I like that’un, Cap’n. Heeheehee!

Chit on deck, Kurda and Riftun negotiated the small set of stairs to the stern peak, their heads bowed against the storm’s onslaught.

Immediately after they gained the top deck, Kurda knew that Plugg was playing one of his wicked jests on her. The Seascab was rolling wildly, plunging up and down like a madbeast in its death throes. The Princess was flung against the stern rail, where she clung grimly for dear life.

Riftun slithered and skated about on the seaslick deck, then dug his spear point in the timbers and hauled himself to her side. Thunder rumbled out of the distance and banged overhead in a loud explosion.

A sheet of lightning followed. Kurda was bent over the rail, facing the sea. In the brief illumination from the lightning flash, she screeched, There dey are, there dey aaaaaare!

Not half a boatlength away and slightly astern of the Seascab was the small stolen vessel, with Shogg and Triss, soaked to the skin, clinging to the tiller. The small, light craft was rapidly overhauling the huge Freebooter ship. Kurda saw the pair look up, their faces showing clearly in the lights from Plugg’s rear cabin window. She seized Riftun’s paw.

Get one of dem mitt your spear, de streamdog. I vant de other von alive.

T’row, kill der streamdog!

Shogg and Triss were horror-stricken. The light they had been sailing for was a huge Freebooter ship, with their archenemies, Kurda and Riftun, aboard. Frozen with shock, they sat staring up at the mad-eyed Princess urging her captain to slay Shogg. Riftun raised his spear, grinning cruelly down at them. It was a throw he could hardly miss. He brought the weapon back over his shoulder for a stronger cast. Bang! Craaaaaack!

A bolt of lightning struck the iron spearblade.

Hurling the tiller to port, Shogg sent the little craft skipping nimbly by, narrowly missing the Seascab’s stern.

Kurda did not know what had happened for a moment, as she had been watching Shogg, waiting for the spear to strike him. Turning, she saw the rat Captain lying rigid on the deck, every hair on his body standing up like a needle. His paw was welded to the smoking and shattered spear, rain sizzling as it spattered on the momentarily red-hot iron blade.

Riftun was dead as a doornail.

The beautifully built little ship, which Agarnu had commissioned for his royal offspring, flashed by and was swallowed up into the gale-torn night.

Plugg shielded his grog from the wetness that blew in as the cabin door slammed open again. Was you born in a field? Shut that clatterin’ door!

Looking anything but regal, the saturated Pure Ferret left Grubbage to struggle with the door as she staggered into the cabin, flailing her paws like a windmill.

Mine ship, I haff seen mine ship, mitt two slaves in it, sailing by ...

out dere!

The Freebooter fox took a gulp of grog and belched. Well, ain’t that a turnip fer the ship’s log. Where’s ole pastyface Riftun, swimmin’

after it?

Kurda ignored the fox’s heavy-pawed sarcasm. Riftun is slayed by der lightnink, he vos stricken! Mine ship is getting avay, you vill catch her!

Plugg shrugged noncommittally. I never took to that Riftun, ‘e was a snootynosed rat. Don’t worry about yore pretty liddle ship. If’n she’s still afloat by mornin’, we’ll run ‘er down all right. Just one other thing, missy, if’n ye ain’t got double the value o’ that ship, well,

‘tis mine. Yore pa said I gets double the value of any booty we bring back. So if I sails back inter Riftgard with ‘er in tow, ye can kiss yore ship goodbye. She’ll be sailin’ under Plugg’s colours!

Kurda did not have her sabre to paw. She stood in front of the Freebooter, shaking with murderous rage. If I had not left my sabre in der cabin, you vould be a deadbeast now, seascum!

Plugg winked at Slitfang and smiled sweetly. Ain’t she the one, mate.

Pity ye didn’t bring yore sword out on deckÑthe lightnin’ would’ve struck you, me pretty one. That might’ve brightened yore night up, aharrharr!

The Princess stamped her paw as she poured forth venom. You stupid mudbrained slug, von day I vill haff your head on a spike, den ve see how you laugh, yarr! I vill tell mein father how I vas treated by you.

De only double revard he vill give is to haff you chopped in two halves!

Plugg tossed his empty grog flagon aside and got another. Teh tch, naughty naughty! A bargain’s a bargain when anybeast makes it wid Plugg Firetail, missie, ye’ll soon find that out. Well now, ye can stand stampin’ yer lid-die paw there as much as ye like. There ain’t a thing t’be done ‘til this storm blows over an’ we got daylight enough t’see wot we’re chasin’. So you toddle off now, to that there snug liddle cabin I let you ‘ave fer the night.

Kurda curled her lip and scowled at him. I go back to mine own cabin, but first I vill choose a Ratguard to attend me. I do not trust you, yarr!

Plugg turned to his messmates, speaking with mock sincerity. D’you lot

‘ear that? She don’t trust dear old Plugg! That’s ‘ow you never got t’be a princess, Grubbage, by puttin’ yore trust in me.

Grubbage nodded sagely. Aye, a rusty flea, Cap’n, that’s me. Shall I show the Princess back to ‘er cabin?

Kurda pushed Grubbage roughly aside. I find my own vay! She strode regally from the cabin, with the raucous laughter of Plugg and his cronies ringing in her ears.

21

Sometime just before dawn the storm abated. Thunder echoed dully, far off across pale, slate-streaked skies. Rain slacked to a drizzling curtain in wan daylight. The sea was still running high. Shogg and Triss were sleeping, sitting draped over the tiller, worn out and exhausted after their tempestuous ordeal. The otter slid forward bit by bit, until his nose bumped against the tiller arm. He sat up straight, blinking through salt-crusted eyes, immediately aware of the sound of waves pounding across reefs and breaking on the shore.

Triss, wake up, mate! Tis land, straight ahead. Land! The squirrelmaid woke, shivering, damp and cold. She stared at the approaching coastline, rocks and shingle broken by patches of sandy shore. It did not appear very welcoming, but it was a marvellous sight to a pair of escaped slaves.

Where are we, Shogg?

Her friend applied his attention to the tiller. I ain’t got a clue, but well be in big trouble if we runs afoul o’ those reefs, matey. Let’s try to slide in easy-like.

Recalling the previous night, Triss scanned the horizon. Where’s the big ship gone, d’you see it anywhere?

Shogg smiled grimly. T’the bottom o’ the sea, I’ope. I don’t see it about, but there ain’t any sense in takin’ chances. We won’t put up the sail in case it gives us awayÑa sail can be seen from a good distance off. You see if’n there’s any dry vittles left, an’ water, too. I’d give me rudder for a mouthful of fresh water right now. Attend to that an’ keep yore eyes peeled. I’ll try an’ get us to shore safely.

Viewing the strange new land, Shogg felt a thrill of anticipation as the shore loomed closer. He used all his skills to tack between the perilous rocks, some poking up out of the sea, others lying beneath the surface. Centering his attention at a sprawling stone outcrop on the tideline, Shogg sent the vessel toward it.

Triss found some apples that were undamaged. She uncorked a flagon of drinking water and tipped it to her mouth, washing out the heavy salt taste of the sea. It was sweet and refreshing. She passed it to Shogg, who wedged it against the tiller.

I’ll take a drop when I gets us past this tricky bit, mate. There!’Tis a straight run to land now. Let’s drink to our escape, Triss, we made it!

As the keel scraped upon sand, Shogg leaped over into the shallows and hauled on the headrope. Triss was about to join him when she spotted the double sails bellying out on the horizon.

It’s the big ship! Look!

The otter acted promptly as he sighted the Seascab. Quick, let’s pull’er in behind these rocks. I’ope they ain’t caught sight of us!

Between them they managed to push and shove the vessel to the lee side of the outcrop. Shogg began stripping the sail from the mast and rolling it up, whilst Triss salvaged what food she could from their spoiled stores.

Empty grog flagons rolled about on Plugg’s cabin floor as the ship swayed gently. He sat with his head on the table, snoring in his chair.

Laaaaaand hoooooooo!

A moment later the silver fox was stumbling out on deck. Land ye say, where away?

Tazzin, who was on duty as steersbeast, pointed. Straight on as she lies, Cap’n, dead ahead!

Kurda came bounding up from amidships. De land, mine new captain see it first, yarr. He say somet’ink move, over by der rocks. See!

Plugg was too preoccupied with their position to pay the Princess much heed. He scanned the coast up and down.

Kurda slapped her sabre blade against the rail. Vot you lookin’ for, vy you don’t listen to me?

Plugg spoke as he continued inspecting the shoreline. There should be a river runnin’ out across the beach. That’s where the chart says we make our landfall. I’m lis-senin’ to yer, missy. Now who saw wot, eh?