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

"Lost? Oh come off it, old sport, a chap of my perfect qualities is never lost, wot! I'll wager anythin' that pretty soon I'll hear Sagax shoutin' it's time for lunch. Huh, that stripeheaded baritone pal o' mine has a voice like a bloomin' bushel o' bullfrogs, lets the whole world know when he's hungry. Not like me, of course, the tiniest whisper is all I jolly well give when it's time for the old nosebag. Not one to yell about scoff, never was!"

He caught sight of the pond with a loud whoop. "What ho! Fresh clean cool water, just the thing for a growin' hare. Hope there's some o' those flippin' tasty little watershrimp whizzin' about in there, wot wot?"

Scarum crouched in the shallows, making the most outrageous guzzling noises as he sucked up lakewater. He belched and wiggled both footpaws. "Capital stuff, water! Fills the old turn, drives away the drought, an' cools off one's weary paws. Not as tasty as strawberry fizz, but it'll do at a pinch, eh wot!"

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

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

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

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

Kurda shoved Riggan forward. "Don't shtand dere! 'Elp Vorto!"

Scarum knew he was in trouble. The only advantage he had was the water at his back. Vorto and Riggan moved apart, getting on either side and outflanking their quarry. The young hare swung his pole left and right, beating off the menace of the spears, which were shorter than his weapon. Kurda stood on the bank, waiting, knowing he could not keep his defence up for any length of time.

After a while Scarum began to flag. The pole fell lower until it was splashing the water at each stroke. Posturing, with the sabre point held forward, Kurda entered the lake, wading forward toward her victim. The hare thrust at her with his pole, leaving his sides momentarily unguarded. Riggan swung her spear powerfully, catching Scarum a hard blow to the back of his head and knocking him senseless. Kurda retreated swiftly from the lake, not liking having her footpaws wet. "I hope you haff not slayed 'im. Pull der rabbit ash.o.r.e. He vill die bit by bit, yarr!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scarum could see by the way Riggan and Vorto turned their faces away that his time had come. He dropped all pretences and snarled at his tormentor, "Then do your worst, you milk-furred sc.u.m, I'll see you at h.e.l.lgates one day. Aye, and I won't be helpless then!"

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

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

"Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa! We're coming! Eulaliiiiiiaaaaaa!"

Crashing through the shallows of the lakesh.o.r.e, Sagax came thundering towards Kurda, swinging his ma.s.sive battle-axe in one paw. On the bank alongside him, Log a Log and Triss ran their hardest to keep up with him.

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

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

Triss put on a turn of speed, shouting at Sagax as she pa.s.sed him, "The white one's mine!"

Vorto's spear snapped like a twig as Sagax bulled him into the lake. The battle-axe cleaved midair, water, and the Ratguard Captain, all in one stroke.

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

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

It was the first time in her life Kurda had faced a crea- ture that was armed and ready for her. The others had never been a problem. They were usually bound and helpless, and she had always been surrounded by Ratguards to protect her. A chill of fear ran through the Pure Ferret. Rising slowly Kurda picked up her sabre. Triss circled her, the point of Martin's sword weaving and flickering about her sworn enemy, taunting her.

"My father was Rocc Arrem, the greatest swordmaster in all the Northlands. He was slain by your family, with arrows, because they feared him. You slew his friend Drufo, who was old and weak. I watched you kill him. So now, let's see what murdering one old creature and chopping lots of turnips has taught you, coward!"

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

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

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

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

Triss contemptuously turned her back and walked away. Kurda's anger at the way she was being treated overcame fear. She grabbed the heavy sabre with both paws and charged screeching at Triss's unprotected back. The squirrelmaid skipped to one side as the sabrepoint buried itself in the earth. Triss whirled and struck the blade with all her might. It was a st.u.r.dy sabre, but no match for the great sword of Martin the Warrior. There followed a loud metallic clang as the sabre snapped in two halves.

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

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

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

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

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

Placing the sword back over Triss's shoulder, the Gu-osim Chieftain shook his head firmly. "Wot would ye 'ave done if'n you caught up with 'er, eh? Made Kurda fight on wid a broken blade? No, matey, that's not yore style. You couldn't slay a beast in cold blood, ain't that right, Sagax?" "Aye, right, friend. Kurda lived and died like a coward: running away. Think about it, Triss, you wouldn't allow yourself to dishonour Martin's sword by using it to slay that gutless craven when she wasn't properly armed. You aren't a killerthere's a lot more to you than that. Martin chose you for the creature you are, right?"

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

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

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

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

The hare closed his eyes and winced as the axe chopped clean through the ropes that bound his footpaws together. He tossed the rope ends huffily into the lake. "Great big showoff, y'nearly left me pawless. Oh, an' you, too, miss. Y'might have taken the trouble to cut a chap down properly. Leapin' about an' choppin' with that sword. Just look at this bloomin' wound on me bonceI fell right on top of that vermin, she had a blinkin' skull like a rock. Oh, woe is me, chaps, only half a flamin' set o' whiskers an' my young good looks ruined by this enormous b.u.mp!"

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

Scarum suddenly forgot his injuries. "What, er, oh that! Long an' complicated tale, had whacking great injustices done to me, y'know. Thought it best to relinquish command an' join me old comrades, couldn't let you lot face those vermin alone, wot!"

Sagax growled menacingly. "I hope you're telling the truth."

The incorrigible hare put on his n.o.blest face. "Shame on you for thinkin' otherwise, sah! Oh, er, I say, Triss, you're a good-hearted type. Would you like to put in a word or two for me when we get back? Talk to the Abbot an' Memm, an' those other old fogeys. Tell 'em how I found you three strung up by the footpaws an' risked life'n'limb to rescue you. Pretty maid with an honest face, they'll believe you, I bet. But don't get too jolly fancy about it, just picture me as a modest type doin' me duty."

Triss could not help laughing at the horrified look on the face of Sagax. She winked rea.s.suringly at Scarum. "Of course I will. And what about the three serpents you slew? Shall I mention them also?"

Scarum clapped Log a Log on the back cheerfully. "No no, old Log'll do that, won't you, me stout shrewchap. No need to go into detail, just mutter somethin' about me tyin' 'em up in knots an' pullin' their fangs out, that should do the trick. Er, Sagax, old pal of my Dibbun days, don't you say anything. Lips sealed, keep mum, nod's as good as a wink an' all that. Be a strong silent badger type, wot, don't say a blinkin' word!"

Both Triss and Log a Log nearly collapsed laughing. "Hohoho, don't say a blinkin' word, eh?"

"Heeheehee, he's speechless now. Just look at his face!"

Scarum did. "Huh, looks like a toad chokin' on a tadpole, if y'ask me. Yowchyow! Gerroff, y'big brute!"

Triss and Log a Log sat dabbling their paws at the lake edge. They watched Sagax chasing Scarum, aiming hefty kicks at his tailscut as the hare fled, complaining loudly.

"Wowch! Some pal you are, what've I done now? Woop! Where's your jolly old sense of humour, wot? Owch, ger-roff!"

4i Extract from the journal ofMalbun Grimp, Healer and Recorder of Redwall Abbey.

Joy and sorrow, sorrow and joy. There are times when the two go paw in paw. Sorrow for the goodbeasts we lost in battle, Redwallers and our friends, the Guosim shrews. There is always a price to be paid for peace. Though by Skipper's account, the vermin paid the heavier pricevery few of them escaped to tell of their defeat. Yet the saddest picture that remains in my mind is that of Kroova, the otter who stayed behind to guard our Abbey. He and Shogg had become close friends. I was standing beside him on the walltops as Shogg marched off after the vermin. He waved to Shogg and shouted that he would ask Friar Gooch to make some shrimp'n'hotroot soup for them to share on his friend's return. Poor Kroova, when he saw Shogg's body being borne back on the shoulders of Skipper and Churk, my heart went out to him. Though Shogg was only a visitor to Redwall, that brave otter will be with us always now, resting beneath a shady willow by the pond. I awoke this morning and watched the sun rise over Redwall. In that stillness I felt the joy that peace brings. Our home, free from the threat of serpents and roving vermin bands. There is no feeling on earth to equal it!

Now, let me tell you of some extraordinary events. My friend, Abbot Apodemus, told me that he is allowing Martin the Warrior's sword to leave Redwall! I could see clearly that Apodemus had been touched by the Warrior's spirit. He a.s.sured me that one day the sword would come backhe was quite positive of it in his quiet way. So here is what will happen. Trisscar Swordmaid, accompanied by Kroova, Sagax, that rascal Scarum, Log a Log, Skipper and Mokug, together with a few chosen others, are embarking on a voyage. Before the summer is out they will sail to that land called Riftgard in the Northlands, far across the wide seas. Churk the ottermaid, splendid young creature, is to take Skipper's place at the Abbey. Her brother Rumbol has recruited ten other otters, all huge trustworthy beasts, to hold Redwall safe. These and a full regiment of Guosim shrews, commanded in Log a Log's absence by Gulif, will stay with us until Skipper returns. I do not normally take to vermin, but the sole captive whom Redwallers took is a jolly fellow, and not at all unlikeable. His name is Grubbage. He is an excellent navigator, and will be going along on the voyage. Trisscar Swordmaid has sworn to free every slave in Riftgard. She has the bravest and best of companions to aid her. Good fortune go with them all.

Extract from the diary of Churk, ottermaid and Head Scholar to Redwall Abbey: The feasting is done and our friends have departed. But what feasting! Four nights and three days, the food, the fun, the poems and the singing. Even the Dibbuns will remember it for as long as they live. Gulif and I accompanied the voyagers to the coast. We rose quietly and left in the hours before dawn. Uncle Skipper said that if we had not, it would have taken another three days to say our goodbyes and have even more supplies of food loaded onto the travellers.

Gulif is the proudest Guosim shrew alive. Just up the stream from where the ford crosses the path, Triss uncovered the most beautifully crafted small ship from its hiding place in a backwater. She presented it to the Guosim tribe, promoting Gulif to captain. It now goes under a new name; the strange writings have been blotted from its stem. Triss renamed it with one single word: Shogg! Shogg! We journeyed down to the sand sh.o.r.es that fringe the wide blue seas. Grubbage took us to where a huge vessel was moored. We let Mokug rename it We journeyed down to the sand sh.o.r.es that fringe the wide blue seas. Grubbage took us to where a huge vessel was moored. We let Mokug rename it Freedom. Freedom. So much food went aboard that Scarum wanted it called So much food went aboard that Scarum wanted it called Scofftub. Scofftub. He was most disappointed not to be made cook, but Sagax would not permit it. It took a day to get the He was most disappointed not to be made cook, but Sagax would not permit it. It took a day to get the Freedom Freedom cleaned up and seaworthy again. She sailed on the evening tide. Gulif and I watched her go. We stood in the shallows and waved until she was out of sight, sailing over the deeps with a fiery setting sun turning her sails to crimson. May the wind be at their backs and the weather fair to speed them homeward one day. cleaned up and seaworthy again. She sailed on the evening tide. Gulif and I watched her go. We stood in the shallows and waved until she was out of sight, sailing over the deeps with a fiery setting sun turning her sails to crimson. May the wind be at their backs and the weather fair to speed them homeward one day.

Taken from the writings of Merola, Badger Lady of Salaman-dastron on the western sh.o.r.es of Moss/lower territory: This very afternoon a huge vessel sailed into the bay. Alarms were sounded; my husband, Lord Hightor, and Colonel Whippscut turned out the guard! Myself and the Colonel's good lady, Dunfreda, watched from an upper window of the mountain. Imagine our surprise when our sons Sagaxus and Bescarum came wading ash.o.r.e at the head of a very strange-looking crew! Well, we brought them all to the banqueting hall and the cooks went to work. Hightor and Whippscut kept pacing around Scarum and Sagax, patting their backs, calling them young rips, winking a lot, and enquiring about their adventures. But they are not young rips any longer, it is plain to see. In the s.p.a.ce of a single season they have become warriors. They seem to have growneven Dunfreda stopped wailing into her kerchief long enough to remark on this. They stand straighter, they even look perilous. My Sagax carries a battle-axe, of all things! I was astounded to hear that Memm Flackery sends her best regards and dearest wishes to me. We were the best of friends. Oh dear, suddenly I feel quite old. But proud also, like Lord Hightor, to think our son has grown up as we wished he would: strong, honest, and true to his friends. Do you know, I've even taken a liking to that rascal Kroova Wavedoghe's growing up nicely, too. Scarum's appet.i.te hasn't been affected, though he does look funny with half a set of whiskers. The stories I heard him telling his parents, he must be very, very brave! The pretty squirrelmaid and that fine big otter, Skipper, sat up almost all night, conferring with Sagax, Scarum, my husband and Colonel Whippscut. Unfortunately I had to take Dunfreda up to her room, as she was wailing so much n.o.beasts could hear themselves speak. She cried herself to sleep, saying it was because she was so happy. I fell asleep in the Colonel's comfy armchair, overcome by the day's events.

Next morning after breakfast, Hightor broke the news to me. Sagaxus is sailing away again! After being back home little more than a day, would you scarce credit it? However, I heard the full story, and I wish I was young enough to go with him. All those poor creatures across the sea, forced to live in slavery. My son and his friends will soon put a stop to all that, believe me. Hightor immediately put extra provisions and twenty veteran Long Patrol fighting hares aboard the ship to accompany them. Quite rightly, too!

My paws still ache from waving them off. I had to tear up an old bedsheet for poor Dunfreda's tearsyou know how she always weeps. Both our sons a.s.sured us they would be back, if not permanently, then at least once every two seasons for a longer visit. I am sad and happy at the same timeit is all very confusing. Dunfreda and I hugged and kissed them so much, we got our gowns wet, standing there in the shallows. Skipper is the dearest of ottershe would not let either of them aboard until they had said goodbye properly. I let Sagaxus go, because I felt I was embarra.s.sing him in front of his friends. As the Freedom Freedom got under way, I had to borrow some of Dunfreda's bedsheet. I could not stop myself from weeping. Hightor's cheeks were damp, too, but he said it was seaspray. There they go, out onto the deeps, to who knows where. Goodbye, my son, I know you will make me even more proud of you than I am now. Sagaxus ... Sagaxus ... got under way, I had to borrow some of Dunfreda's bedsheet. I could not stop myself from weeping. Hightor's cheeks were damp, too, but he said it was seaspray. There they go, out onto the deeps, to who knows where. Goodbye, my son, I know you will make me even more proud of you than I am now. Sagaxus ... Sagaxus ...

Section from the log of the good ship Freedom, Freedom, written by Bescarum Lepusivold Whippscut, formerly of Salamandastron: written by Bescarum Lepusivold Whippscut, formerly of Salamandastron: Rotten bounders, the whole crew of 'em! Makin' me get my dainty young paws covered in blinkin' ink. I hate messin' about with quill pens, an' parchment an' ink. I'm a jolly good cook, y'know, but they won't let me near the galley, cads! Oh well, as my dear old ma always says, make do with what you've got an' weep a lot until they give you what you want, wot?

Right, here goes. We've been out at sea now for exactly, er, a jolly long time. All the landlubbers aboard have become pretty salty old dogs (which means they're all done with bein' seasick). The other mornin' I heard one of those Guosim types yellin' out from the crows' nest (don't know why they call it that, I've never seen a bloomin' crow sittin' up there)anyhow, he woke me up with his shoutin'. Somethin' about two points north an' a tack west, an' all that nautical jimjam. What the blighter meant was that he'd spotted an island. Bloomin' great mountain o' greeny blue rock glimmerin' away in the sunlight. Triss called it Peace Island. Had to agree with her, it's the hugest piece o' rock I ever saw stickin' up out o' the briny, wot. We didn't go ash.o.r.e really, too many of us t'be clamberin' up a whoppin' great mountainside. But the chaps who live there came t'see us. St.u.r.dy-lookin' b.u.mpkins, big healthy hedgehog types. Spoke quite oddly, I can tell you. Theein' an' thouin' an' thyin', bit of a rum do, wot? But the scoff they brought with them, great fur'n'frog feathers! I've never clamped eye on fruit'n'vegetables so big an' plump an' tasty. A good old mammy-type hog, name of Downyrose, took a shine t'me an' fed yours truly enough to stuff a tribe o' toads! I gave her a kiss an' a hug (got the old paws p.r.i.c.kled a bit, but well worth it, I'd say).

Whilst this all was goin' on, Triss is weepin' an' kissin' a hogmaid she calls Welfo, an' another young chap named Urtica, an' a big old daddy hog, name o' Bistort. They did carry on, though, all laughin' an' cryin' an' sayin', "Thou hast returned, welcome to thee!" n.o.beast seemed t'be payin' much attention to the tuck, so I located a rhubarb'n'apple crumble, an' let 'em get on with it.

Naturally there were lots more tears when Triss gave 'em the sad news about poor Shogg, but when she told Welfo and her friends about the pretty little boat named after him, it cheered 'em up a touch. D'you know, I can't stand that blinkin' Sagax, he paces the deck with that flamin' great hatchet thing, watchin' every mouthful I take. Keeps remindin' me that there's others aboard, an' that we've got the rest o' the voyage to complete, wot? As if I didn't jolly well know. I told him if he didn't like it he could swim behind the ship with his axe in his mouth, keepin' an eye out for sharks the rest o' the way. Good job he's a pal o' mine, or I might've tossed him overboard myself!

N.B. There is a s.p.a.ce in the log here, also several stains on the parchment, which look like blueberry juice, leek-and-mushroom soup, and an unidentifiable pudding with honey and nuts in it. Then the log continues on the following day.

Life's flippin' rotten at times, ain't it! We've hardly been here since last noon, an' it's furl the anchor, lower the bilges, rattle your reef sails (an' all that seagoin' codswallop). We're leavin'? All that wonderful scoff, those delectable dishes, that fabulous fruit, those . . . (what's a word that begins with V?) those very very nice vegetables, an' we're sailin' off, leavin' the bloomin' lot behind! Miss Triss is lookin' pretty edgy, I notice. Even old chubbycheeks Mokug has gone all pensive an' grim. I expect it's 'cos the next stop is Riftgard. Well, forward the Buffs say I, true blue an' never fail. A perilous hare like me should gain a few medals in the battle to come, wot. I'll show 'em! Not a blot on me copybook an' covered in glory, that's how this young hero will return. Wonder what the food's like on Riftgard?

This ink gets everyflippin'where, I'll have to change me name to Scarum Bluepaw. Righty ho, then, ship's log finished for the day, gorgeous smells waftin' from the galley Good cooks, those Guosim lads. Oh, that reminds me. Log a Log an' Sagax want a word with me, something important probably, wot. I hope they don't mention that blueberry-an'-pear pudden missin' from the galley last night. It wasn't me, I was never near the placethis is ink on me paws, not blinkin' blueberry juice. Bet it was Skipper, I don't know where he puts it. Must have a hollow rudder. Think I'll go an' hide in the fruit locker for a bitpleasant in there, wot! Bescarum Lepuswold Whippscut, Esquire, signin' off.

42.

The following is an eyewitness account by a sea ottermaid.

My name is Sleeve. I am a slave, born and bred in the fortress of King Agarnu at Riftgard. I know no other place. It is a hard and cruel life. My mother and father died here when I was very young. We bend our backs to the whips of Ratguards, working from before dawn until long after dusk. We are always hungry. I was taught to write by an old squirrel called Drufo, who is gone now, slain by a princess of the Royal Blood. It was he who used to recite "The Slave's Lot" to me. I can still recall the words as he spoke them: Bend your back beneath the lash, Straighten it and feel some more, Sleep and wake, work and starve, That is what a slave is for. Speak in whispers, never smile, Serve the masters, bow your head. The only time a slave is free, Is when that slave is dead.

Yet I can remember the first day I really smiled. The day when three slaves stole a royal ship and escaped. My heart leapt within me to know that they had gone from Riftgard and all its miseries. I charged forward, with no weapon but my paws and teeth, me and many others. We stopped the Ratguards from capturing those brave three. But then we were outnumbered, Drufo was slain and I was beaten senseless. They threw us in the dungeons beneath Riftgard and locked us there, starving for many days. Yet we smiled, we laughed, because three of our number had found liberty and lived. Later, I was one of the group who carried food aboard that monstrous Freebooter ship, the Seascab. Seascab. I saw the Princess screaming with rage, vowing to bring the fugitives back and punish them. I saw Riggan the slavecatcher come aboard with Captain Riftun. 1 saw the wicked Prince Bladd join the ship. My heart sank within me. How could three half-starved slaves on a little vessel escape such a dreadful force? I saw the Princess screaming with rage, vowing to bring the fugitives back and punish them. I saw Riggan the slavecatcher come aboard with Captain Riftun. 1 saw the wicked Prince Bladd join the ship. My heart sank within me. How could three half-starved slaves on a little vessel escape such a dreadful force?

But hope lives in every living thing, even a slave. We would whisper together as we toiled all day beneath the whips, we would dream every night as we were locked inside to sleep on stone floors. Where were our three friends, Triss, Shogg and Welfo? Had they really escaped? Were they living in some sunny peaceful place? I would join them in my dreams, wandering through summery green woodlands, singing and laughing, with plenty of good food, and soft mossy banks where they could lie at night. Gazing up at the stars in an open sky Sleep can be glorious freedom to a slave, if the dreams are beautiful. But then the guards come, banging and shouting. Then you are forced into a waking nightmare. We were put to work on the King's new idea: a stone tower on the clifftops, where he could watch for the Seascab's Seascab's return. As we laboured, we watched also, hoping that it would never return, for then we would be sure the three had made good their return. As we laboured, we watched also, hoping that it would never return, for then we would be sure the three had made good their bid for freedom. Our new captain, Hydrad, used his spearb.u.t.t instead of a whip. Anybeast caught gazing at the sea got badly beaten by him, yet still we took the chance to scan the horizon whenever we could.

Then one morning it happened. Small at first, a mere dot out in the dawn light, but as it drew nearer, every slave fell silent. That ship, the Seascab, Seascab, like a great dark bird of ill omen, was returning- We were swiftly marched down to the pier and jetty by the fjord. Messengers were sent to the fortress. King Agarnu was carried out on a litter, for he has become too heavy to walk on that false leg of his. Captain Hydrad estimated that the like a great dark bird of ill omen, was returning- We were swiftly marched down to the pier and jetty by the fjord. Messengers were sent to the fortress. King Agarnu was carried out on a litter, for he has become too heavy to walk on that false leg of his. Captain Hydrad estimated that the Seascab Seascab would make land on the floodtide and sail up the fjord. Spear-carrying Ratguards, freshly uniformed, were lined up along the route to the fortress. We slaves were forced to kneel at the Fjord edge in rows. Instructions were given. It was our honour to receive a day off work, and we were told that when the would make land on the floodtide and sail up the fjord. Spear-carrying Ratguards, freshly uniformed, were lined up along the route to the fortress. We slaves were forced to kneel at the Fjord edge in rows. Instructions were given. It was our honour to receive a day off work, and we were told that when the Seascab Seascab docked, we were to keep chanting, "Hail Princess Kurda! Hail Prince Bladd! Hail Agarnu, King of all Riftgard!" What choice does a slave have? As soon as Hydrad laid about one or two with his spearb.u.t.t, we started the hateful chant. docked, we were to keep chanting, "Hail Princess Kurda! Hail Prince Bladd! Hail Agarnu, King of all Riftgard!" What choice does a slave have? As soon as Hydrad laid about one or two with his spearb.u.t.t, we started the hateful chant.

The sandbars and shallows at the estuary were deep under the running floodtide. The Seascab Seascab sailed into the fjord smoothly. Some of the slaves were weeping openly. I felt a lead weight inside my chest. Mental images of the three escapers being dragged in chains from the ship invaded my mind. Then I saw Triss the squirrelmaid. She was holding a magnificent sword. She was actually smiling! The hairs on my rudder still stand up when I think of how she raised that sword and yelled, "Freedooooooom!" The deck became suddenly alive with warriors. Not vermin, but hares, otters, shrews and a ma.s.sive young badger holding a battle-axe. Triss swung over the side on a rope, shouting, "Agarnu, I am Trisscar Swordmaid, I have returned!" sailed into the fjord smoothly. Some of the slaves were weeping openly. I felt a lead weight inside my chest. Mental images of the three escapers being dragged in chains from the ship invaded my mind. Then I saw Triss the squirrelmaid. She was holding a magnificent sword. She was actually smiling! The hairs on my rudder still stand up when I think of how she raised that sword and yelled, "Freedooooooom!" The deck became suddenly alive with warriors. Not vermin, but hares, otters, shrews and a ma.s.sive young badger holding a battle-axe. Triss swung over the side on a rope, shouting, "Agarnu, I am Trisscar Swordmaid, I have returned!"

Then the warriors poured off the ship, which had the word Freedom Freedom painted in large letters along its side. Agarnu called to his guards to engage the newcomers. painted in large letters along its side. Agarnu called to his guards to engage the newcomers.

Caught up in the fantastic moment, I found myself yelling "Freedom/' and rushing the guards who stood over us with whips. Then something heavy hit the back of my neck and I went down. Captain Hydrad was standing over me with his spearpoint at my throat. I was going to die. Magic happened then. I saw Hydrad's eyes roll up to the whites as he gave a sigh, let go of the spear and fell across me. A sea otter like myself pushed Hydrad's body off me. He had the nicest smile as he held out his paw and said, "Sorry about that, miss. I meant 'im t'fall the other way. You stick by me, I'll see ye safe!"

That was how I met Kroova Wavedog.

The Warriors made short work of the King's Ratguards. The vermin were overwhelmed by hares and shrews, who gave no quarter and took no prisoners. I turned my face away from the guards with whips, who vanished beneath roaring crowds of slaves, each one wanting to get at them. Those guards paid the final price for their seasons of cruelty. But it was Agarnu who screamed loudest. The slaves who had been carrying his litter, groaning under the weight of their burden, waded into the fjord and set it afloat. It did not sail far before it sank into the deep icy waters. Agarnu was sobbing, "I cannot svim, I cannot svim!" I saw the badger holding Triss back, then the King of Riftgard went under and never came up.

We made a bonfire in the courtyard of the fortress. Whips, spears, uniforms and anything, including the throne, which had the royal symbol on it, were burned: cushions, drapes, scrolls, tables, chairs, beds, everything! Some slaves took a white silk bedsheet and painted on it, in green dye, the word FREEDOM! FREEDOM! in in large bold capitals. Kroova and I hung it out on two spearpoles over the fortress gates.

Food, we found food! Large stocks of it locked away in storehouses and pantries. Food that slaves had grown in the fields of Riftgard's slopes. Our cooks put on an amazing banquet. I was sitting by the bonfire, between Kroova and Triss, eating and singing. My face was hurting from smiling and laughing. Log a Log, the Guosim Chieftain, and a funny hare called Scarum followed Sagax down to the dungeons belowstairs. I was told later that the badger demolished each cell door with a single blow from his big battle-axe. The prisoners had to be treated carefully, for they were very weak and puzzled. When I told them they were free, some of them could not stop crying. We had to stop one or two who wanted to go back to the cells, afraid of what would happen if they were caught outside.

Mokug the old hamster came up from the cells carrying a small bundle. It was a tiny mousebabe. n.o.beast knew who he belonged to. Kroova and I took him, fed him and wrapped him in silk sheets. Triss could see we liked the little fellow very much. She asked what we were going to call him. Kroova never hesitated. "Freedom, that's wot he'll be called. Freedom!"

Triss took a golden crown and a gold pawring from under her cloak. Both were studded with jetstones. She watched the baby's eyes shining in the firelight as he gurgled and reached out with his tiny paws for the shiny objects. Triss gave both the pawring and the crown to him. She patted his head and said, "Pretty toys, that's all they are, pretty toys for a babe to play with. If he gets tired of them, let him throw them in the sea, because they're no use to any other creature."

This account of what happened at Riftgard, I entrust to Skipper. He has promised to let others read it. I do this because I want to thank all those good friends across the seas whom I have never met. Without them I would still be a slave. The Badger Lord and Lady of Salaman-dastron, the kind hedgehogs of Peace Island, and the Abbot of Redwall, together with all the dear creatures who dwell at the Abbey. There must be others I do not know about, honest beasts, who in some way or other helped Triss to honour her vow and free the Northlands of tyranny. My thanks goes out to all of you. I hope the reading of my letter conveys the grat.i.tude I owe to you. Drufo, Shogg, and many slaves who died so others could live in the sweet light of liberty, did not give their lives in vain. The memory of their courageous deeds will be with us always.

There are no more kings or rulers here; we live together as one great family, though everybeast seems to look to Kroova and Mokug for guidance, they having been out across the seas to other lands. Talking of families, with Mokug acting as grandfather to our mousebabe, and Kroova and I treating him as if we were his parents, we have our own little family, the four of us. We have a lot to learn, never having known parents of our own. But from what Kroova and Mokug experienced at Redwall, its way of life and kind treatment to all, I think between them they will make our home a happy place to live. Yes, Kroova is staying here with me. He is sorry to see his old friends sailing away, but glad to have finally made something of his own. Perchance we may meet again one day, who knows? I will often go to the sea. There I will gaze out over the deeps and think of you all. You, who have made us straighten our backs and smile. May your seasons be long and peaceful.

Sleeve.

Written personally into the Abbey Archives by Apodemus, Father Abbot of Redwall in Moss/lower Country: Autumn mists have given way to winter's first frost. Our Abbey prospers in calm and safety. Normally I would lie abed a little longer, now that the mornings are cold and dark. But today 1 walked in my sleep! That is something I have never done before. It must have been the spirit of our Warrior, Martin. Just before dawn he led me up to the northeast walltop and left me standing there in my nightgown. Crikulus and Malbun joined me, having heard me pa.s.s by the gatehouse door. Those two! They had been up all night, studying the artefacts they gathered from Brockhall after it had been cleared and cleaned up. So we stood there in the silent grey fog, all three of us. I told them how I came to be there. Crikulus said that Martin had his reasons. We decided to stay and find out what they were.