Triss, p.31
Triss, page 31
But ’earken, mates, to the tale o’ pore
Bladd, All fat’n’white, wid pink eyes,
Slayed by a cauldron of oatmeal,
Ain’t that an orful surprise?
Whacked on ’is royal ’ead, by a big iron pot,
Bladd liked oatmeal as much as the next,
But not the full lot, served up pipin”ot,
I’ll bet yer ’e felt rather vexed!
Aye, Cap’n an’ Prince, we ain’t seen ’em since,
Wot a sad gloomy story it makes.
One killed at lunchtime by brekkist,
An’ the other et up by snakes!”
Scummy took his bow amid fervent applause from both sides. Many of the Freebooters wept openly, tears coursing down their ugly, bewhiskered faces. Under Vorto’s watchful eye, the Ratguards bowed their heads, bodies shaking, as if racked by grief. However, they had difficulty controlling their laughter, as none of them had been particularly fond of the fat, spoiled Prince.
Kurda felt it was time to make her announcement. She stood by the fire, leaning on her sabre.
“Listen to vot I haff to say. No more do I go up against dat Abbey. Now ve must seek vengeance against der shnakes, der monsters vot slayed de good Captain Plugg! Hear me, tomorrow I hunt de serpints to der death, und you vill be at my side and make dem pay for our friend Plugg. Yarr?”
Slitfang emerged from behind the firelight and put the crew of the Seascab’s view bluntly. “We ain’t goin’.”
Vorto hurried forward, spear at the ready. “Silence! The Princess is the leader of this group now!”
Slitfang drew his cutlass and pointed it at Vorto. “Shut yore mouth an’ keep outta this. Leaders, eh? I’m the leader of the Seascab’s crew when the Cap’n ain’t ’ere, an’ I say we ain’t goin’ on no snake ’unt, see!”
Kurda curled her lip scornfully at him. “So, you are de coward now, you don’t care noddink about de Captain. Seascum, you are not fit to lead!”
Kurda was a bit taken aback when Slitfang laughed in her face. “Haharr, lissen to ’er, mates, she loved our Cap’n so much that she wants revenge fer ’im? Who do ye think yore foolin’, pink eyes, I ’eard you an’ Riggan talkin’ together when Plugg got taken. Vengeance, me eye, you saw the crown on the snake’s ’ead. Now ye know where the treasure lies, in the serpent’s den! That’s wot yore after, missy. Don’t lissen to ’er, mates, she’ll get the lot o’ ye killed!”
Kurda was trying to hold her rising temper under control. “All right, all I vant is de crown, an’ a pawring dat belongs to mine family. You can haff all der rest, shplit it like booty betveen you. It is mine command dat ve go, so obey!”
Slitfang was beginning to enjoy baiting the Princess. “Ho, we’ll go all right, first thing tomorrer, straight back to our ship. We’re Freebooters, not fools. I’ll tell ye somethin’ else, too: Don’t try an’ stand in our way. Right, crew?”
The Seascab’s company rose, cheering with him to a beast.
“Aye, we’ve ’ad enough, let’s ship out!”
“Yore givin’ the orders, Cap’n Slitty!”
“ ’Tis wot Plugg would’ve wanted!”
Kurda seemed to wilt under the weight of opinion against her. She lowered her sabre. Shrugging and smiling ruefully, she skirted the fire, her paw held out to Slitfang.
“So, you are a Freebooter who knows his own mind, yarr. Go if you must, no hard feelinks, eh, Slitty?”
The weasel chuckled. “Aye, an’ good luck wid yore snake ’unt, Princess.” Lowering his cutlass, he held forth his paw.
It was as if Kurda were back at Riftgard, chopping turnips in the armoury. Two lightning-swift strokes of the sabre, one across, one down. Tazzin reached for her dagger, but dropped her paw as a blade touched the back of her neck and Riggan whispered in her ear, “Just try it an’ yore a deadbeast for sure!”
Kurda stepped over Slitfang’s headless carcass, flicking his severed paw to one side. She nodded to Vorto. “Take diss out of mine sight!”
Later that night, Kurda lay down at the edge of the firelight to sleep. Riggan and Vorto spread their cloaks on either side of the Princess. She watched the flames reflecting off the pile of weaponry taken from the Seascab’s crew by her Ratguards. These would only be reissued at her command. The Pure Ferret sighed with satisfaction. “None of de Freebooters challenged me after I make de example mit Slitfang, yarr.”
Riggan half closed her eyes, ever watchful as she murmured, “None would even look yore way, marm, you was quicker’n any snake wid that sabre!”
Triss stood on the northwest ramparts, sipping a beaker of hot vegetable soup and watching a silver sickle moon peeking out from behind a small, fluffy cloud. Seated with his back against the battlements, Shogg yawned wearily and stretched.
“Didn’t come back, did they? I’m not complainin’. ’Tis good to ’ave a day’s peace after wot we’ve been through.”
Scarum slid his empty beaker on the walkway and picked up the otter’s half-full one. Shogg nudged him gently. “I saw that, mate. You go on an’ finish it, though. It might get yore ears out of their grumpy position.”
The young hare’s ears half rose, then fell back. “Grumpy? Who said I’m blinkin’ grumpy, wot? Stuck up here for the flippin’ rest o’ me life with nothin’ t’do. Huh, I volunteered myself for duty in the kitchens, an’ that bloomin’ Friar Gooch said he’d sooner have the vermin helpin’ out there instead o’ me. The nerve!”
Log a Log watched a moth hovering round the glint from his rapier blade. “Never mind, Scarum. I’ll tell young Furrel to pack ye an’ extra-big lunch tomorrow.”
Scarum nodded. “Friendly little molemaid, I like her. Lunch, did you say lunch, old lad? Why would she be packin’ me a lunch, am I goin’ anywhere?”
Skipper leaned over from his walltop perch and tickled the hare’s ear. “If’n the vermin don’t show up afore midmorn, we’re takin’ a scoutin’ party out t’see wot’s goin’ on in Mossflower woodlands. Are ye comin’?”
The hare tried to poach Sagax’s soup beaker and got a rap over the paw for his audacity. “Count me in, old scout, anythin’s better’n sittin’ up here like a caterpillar waitin’ to change into a bloomin’ butterfly, wot wot wot!”
Sagax gave Scarum his beaker, but it was empty. He smiled at his friend’s dejected expression.
“Oh, stop looking like a boiled bumblebee. I know you’re bored, we’re all bored, and it’s a long time until dawn. Come on, Scarum, entertain us. Give us that monologue about your uncle Gurdilo—I like that one.”
The hare sniffed. “It’s Burdilo, not Gurdilo, an’ all you’ve given me tonight is a flamin’ empty soup beaker. Shan’t!”
Triss picked up the beaker. “Oh, do it, please, I’ve never heard about your uncle Burdilo. I’ll fill this beaker with soup again if you recite it for us. Promise.”
Scarum rose stiffly. “You do know the way to a chap’s heart, miss, or is it his stomach? Same thing. Oh, all right, here goes.” The hare soon had them all chuckling with his comic poem.
“My uncle Burdilo was a chap that you’d like to know.
He’d paws like iron an’ a back like oak,
All in all quite a handsome bloke!
They say he scoffed his own weight twice,
In the space of a bloomin’ day,
An’ licked ten times his weight in foes,
At least that’s what they say, hey.
Beefer yoofer arfer deefer, eyefer elfer oh.
That’s how he spelt his name, y’know. My uncle Burdilo!
His eyesight was so jolly good,
Do you know what they say?
He could spot a fly on an apple pie,
A score o’ miles away . . . even on a foggy day!
So strong and tough a hare he was,
D’you know what he did one day?
He stood in a pail an’ picked it up,
An’ carried himself away, hey.
Beefer yoofer arfer deefer, eyefer elfer oh,
That’s how he spelt his name, y’know. My uncle Burdilo!
He’d swim wide seas with skill an’ ease,
And often for a joke,
He’d run so fast, as he sped past,
His footpaws puffed out smoke!
Y’know what they say, he raced one day,
Until his tail was burnin’,
He ran, of course, with such great force,
He met himself returnin’.
Beefer yoofer arfer deefer, eyefer elfer oh,
That’s how he spelt his name, y’know. My uncle Burdilo!”
During the laughter and applause that followed, Scarum bowed and flourished both ears outrageously. He flopped down beside Triss.
“Now, then, how’s about that beaker o’ soup, m’gel?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, that. No need for me to go dashing off to the kitchens—here come Foremole Urrm and Furrel with two big jugs of soup for refills.”
The hare’s face was the picture of outrage. “You knew they were comin’. Hoodwinker, charlatan! I’ll never trust a pretty face again, wot, you see if I bally well don’t, huh!”
Sagax pushed him playfully. “Oh, stop grumbling, it passed away a pleasant moment or two, didn’t it?”
Scarum held out his beaker to be filled, muttering, “Might have for you rotten lot, but it took quite a bit out of me, wastin’ my artistic an’ poetic talents on a pack o’ soup-guzzlin’ buffoons, wot. I say there, Furrel, you charmin’ young molemaid, keep pourin’. This blinkin’ beaker’s only half full—keep goin’, me pretty one!”
The molemaid wrinkled her snout. “Hurr hurr, you’m a gurt flatterer, zurr, h’oi can’t resist ee!”
Kroova whispered to Sagax, “I’m glad somebeast can’t!”
Scarum shot him an icy glance. “I heard that, y’know!”
37
As all the able-bodied Redwallers were guarding the walltops, there was nobeast to relieve them. Night’s dark hours dragged by with painful slowness. The defenders paired off, one napping whilst the other kept watch. Beyond the walls, Mossflower Woods lay calm and peaceful, but to the sentries’ eyes they looked different. Every shifting moonshadow or breeze-swayed bough represented the threat of a fresh vermin attack.
Triss watched the silent plain spread out in front of her. Many thoughts wandered in and out of her mind. The friends she had left on Riftgard’s cold northern coasts, still trapped in a life of miserable slavery. Agarnu, the fat white King, stumping about on his false limb, while his tyrannical mind dreamed up new schemes that added to the harsh existence of the wretched captives who served his every whim. The vow she had made to poor old Drufo.
Triss touched the hilt of Martin’s wondrous sword. Silently she renewed her vow to return and free the slaves. Martin the Warrior’s spirit had guided her across the seas to Redwall. She would do what she had to and help her new friends to defend their Abbey against evil. But the day would come when she would set paw again on Riftgard’s shores to avenge Drufo’s memory, and that of the father she had never known, Rocc Arrem.
Lying on a bed near the dormitory door, Memm Flackery stuck out a paw, stopping the Dibbun Bikkle from leaving the room. The Harenurse murmured. “Where d’you think you’re off to, little miss?”
The squirrelbabe climbed up onto Memm’s bed. “Breffist, it bee’s time for breffist, Bikkle, ’ear a larker!”
The bed creaked as Memm rose and carried Bikkle to an open window. Dawn’s first lark twittered thinly, ascending into the pale light of a new day. Delicate rose hues stippled the horizon, dispersing the dark blue of night as soft gold sunrays threaded out between cream-puff clouds.
Ruggum trundled up beside Memm and Bikkle. “Yurr, ee larker bee’s a-tellin’ uz et’s toime furr breffist.”
Taking in the glorious scene before her, Memm absently patted the molebabe’s head. “Hmm, the beauties of Mother Nature are never lost on you, Ruggum, wot!”
Nodding solemnly, the molebabe agreed. “Hurr, they’m surpintly b’ain’t, marm!”
The morning wore on, with no sign of the vermin returning to attack Redwall. Skipper and Log a Log had shared their plans with the Abbot: a force was to be sent out into the woodlands. It was vital that they knew what had caused the Freebooters and Ratguards to break off the attack.
Triss was pleasantly surprised when they consulted her as to who should go and who would stay behind to protect the Abbey. Scarum was chosen to stay with the home-guard, as was Gurdle Sprink and all the shrews who had arrived with Mimsy and Gulif, most of whom had families. The rest would be Redwallers, those too young or old to travel, and possibly fight. Triss suggested that they leave at least one more capable warrior behind, to assist Scarum and Gurdle. They decided it would be one of the four otters. Shogg, Kroova, Churk and Rumbol drew lots, and it fell to the sea otter.
Kroova was slightly disappointed, but he made light of it. “Hah, it’ll be easy enough defendin’ the walltops, mates, but who’s goin’ to defend the kitchens against old Scarum?”
Foremole and his crew were out on the path, having just finished burying the slain vermin and cleaning the oatmeal from the gateway. He touched a heavy digging claw to his snout as the tracking party emerged from the Abbey.
“Hurr, gudd luck to ee, zurrs’n’marms, you’m be careful an’ watch owt furr ee vermint villyuns.”
The remaining Redwallers flocked to the west walltop as Skipper, Log a Log, Triss and Sagax led off their crew at high noon. Guosim shrews formed the main body, followed by the three otters, Mokug and a half-dozen Abbey dwellers. The Abbot stood on the walltop with Scarum and Kroova, waving and calling goodbyes. The hare bellowed down to the trackers, “Give ’em blood’n’vinegar, chaps, an’ don’t let that Sagax too near the blinkin’ supplies. Badgers are born hogs, y’know. Hawhawhaw!”
Triss threw a salute to the Abbot. “Don’t worry, Father, I’ll bring Martin’s sword back safe and sound.”
Apodemus smiled fondly at her. “I’m sure you will, my child.”
Shogg and Kroova had become close friends. The sea otter shouted down to Shogg, “I’ll tell Friar Gooch t’make some shrimp’n’hotroot soup to share with ye on yore return, mate.”
Shogg grinned from ear to ear. “Yore a good ’un, matey. I’ll look forward to that. We’ll scoff it t’gether.”
Foremole and his crew were still out on the path. They watched until the last creature disappeared into the woodlands, then Scarum began exercising his authority from above.
“Attention now, all moletypes will come inside an’ lock the gates, quick as y’like now, jump to it!” Scarum saluted Kroova with a fine military flourish. “Got to keep those wallahs on the move, y’know, wot!”
The otter, still staring at the small dust cloud the party had left on the path, agreed absentmindedly. “Wot, oh aye, right, mate, keep ’em on the move . . .”
Ripper the searat and Tazzin found themselves in the vanguard of the vermin as they marched through the quiet, sunshafted woodlands. Without turning his eyes, Ripper nodded backward. “I’ll wager that Princess Kurda is well pertected.”
Tazzin took a quick peek. “Oh aye, yore right there. She’s right in the middle ranks, guarded by spears. Not up front in the open like me ’n’ you, mate. Still, there’s ’er tracker, Riggan, scoutin’ up ahead of us. If anybeast gets attacked by snakes, she’ll be the first.”
Ripper did not agree. “Not when we gets t’the snakes’ den, that’s when we’ll be given our weapons back an’ told to charge in the front door. Well, ’ere’s one wot won’t be goin’. I ain’t no fool. Let ’er guards do the chargin’.”
Tazzin’s gaze roved from side to side as she answered, “You seen wot ’appened to Slitfang, didn’t ye? Kurda ain’t a beast t’be crossed—I never seen a creature so fast an’ deadly wid a sabre. She’d ’ave slayed Plugg if’n the snakes didn’t get to ’im first. That ferret’s a real swordbeast!”
Not only had Kurda ringed herself with Ratguards, but she had split the unarmed Freebooters, keeping half in front of the column and the other half behind. The Princess was as frightened as any of them by the thought of the three snakes, but her mind was working constantly as she discussed plans with Vorto.
“Ven Riggan finds der serpents’ den, you give de Freebooters der veapons back. I t’ink many of dem get killed in de shnakes’ lair. Who vill get mine crown back for me?”
Vorto had been thinking up a new plan, which he outlined. “No real need for ’em t’go chargin’ in, yore ’ ighness. Suppose we was to stake one o’ the Freebooters out in front o’ the den? We could be layin’ in wait when the serpents come out t’get the bait, then we could send Plugg’s crew in to finish the snakes off.”
Kurda liked the idea. “Yarr, gutt! Den you an’ mine guards rush in an’ take mine crown from der dead serpents. Und if de lair is empty, den you go in an’ get der pawring. Gutt!”
Vorto was not too happy about exploring the snakes’ den to find the royal pawring. But he said nothing, knowing that he could drive any surviving Freebooters in ahead of him. It was a good plan; all that would be sacrificed would be the crew of the Seascab.
Log a Log’s scouts tracked the vermin trail to their previous night’s camp. A Guosim shrew emerged from the undergrowth rather swiftly. “There’s a slayed weasel in there, with ’is paw an”ead lopped off. They must’ve been quarrellin’ among themselves.”
With one mighty tug, Sagax released Plugg’s battle-axe from the trunk of the sycamore. He wielded it in one paw. “I like the feel of this weapon. I think I’ll claim it.”
Triss watched him heft the big axe. “I think you’d better have it, it suits you, Sagax. There’s not many other beasts could lift it, let alone use it!”
Log a Log stirred the dead fire ashes with his rapier, listening to the report of one of his scouts.
