"Ninian's cider, I calls this. Comes from the ole place down south on the path, where I live from time to time."
They sipped the cold sweet cider appreciatively, in silence. It was cool and shady in the gatehouse after the bright noon sun outside. Martin leaned forward. "Trimp, where did you hear that song?"
"My grandmum Welff Tiptip used to sing it. She told me that she once knew a little mouse named Martin, too. Was that you?"
Gazing into his beaker, he slowly swirled the cider. "That was me. I am Martin of Redwall, son of Luke the Warrior. My mother's name was Sayna. Strange, I had almost forgotten it, until you sang your shanty. Sayna was the name my father gave to his ship as well. Being little more than a babe at the time, I don't remember much. But it comes back to me a little now. Tell me, miss, what else did your grandmum say? Anything at all?"
Holding her beaker with both paws, Trimp sipped and pondered. "There were names . . . Coll, Denno, Cordle, and others I can't recall. Is that any help to you, Martin?"
"I'm afraid not. But carry on, please."
"Hmm, now let me see. She used to talk of old Twoola, er, Drunn Tunneller and Windred"
"Windred! She was my grandmother!" Martin grabbed the hedgehog maid's paws. "Think! Did I have brothers or sisters? A grandsire? What was my father really like? Tell me about Sayna, my mother!"
Even though her paws were hurting in the vicelike grip, Trimp's heart went out to the Warrior. "I can only tell you what I know, sir. Grandmum died when I was very young. She told me that I was born on the northland coast, but we fled when the slavers attacked your tribe's settlement. Our family moved to the midnorth hills. When I became old enough, I left to go roving, and the first place I set out to see was my birthplace on northland shore. Alas, there was nothing left there of our old home, so I carried on roving until I met Ferdy and Coggs, and they brought me to Redwall."
Gonff placed a paw on his friend's shoulder. "Steady on there, mate. You'll crush miss Trimp's paw!"
Martin released her, and went to stand in the doorway, blinking to hold back welling tears. "I used to know things, I'm sure of it. But after the injuries I suffered battling the wildcat Tsarmina, I've hardly been able to recall a single thing. D'you remember Timballisto?"
Gonff nodded. "He was yore friend from the north-lands, who was released from slavery and came here. A good mouse."
Martin struck his paw hard against the doorpost. "We must have been crazy, both of us. He lived here, yet for some unknown reason we never discussed our past. Poor Timbalhe died the winter following the great Moss-flower war."
Gonff poured more cider for his friend. "Mayhap 'twas too painful for either of you to mention, what you went through when you were young 'uns?"
Martin stood staring out across the sunlit lawns. "You're probably right, Gonff. Perhaps it was. Trimp, can't you remember any more names at all?"
The hedgehog maid smiled pensively. "Only that Grandmum used to say if we didn't stop our noise and go to sleep, Vilu Daskar would get us. Aye, Vilu Daskar. Does that name ring a bell, Martin?"
“ No, not a thing. 'Tis all too hazy, too long ago now."
The Warrior walked off toward the Abbey. Gonff watched him, sad for his friend and the forgotten past. "I ain't seen Martin like that afore, miss."
Trimp put aside her drink and stood up. "Only since I came to Redwall and sang that song. This Abbey's a beautiful place, Gonff, but I wish I'd never come here and caused Martin such unhappiness. I'd best leave."
Gonff barred her path to the door, chuckling. "Sorry, me young beauty, but I can't allow it, and neither would Martin, or anybeast calls themselves a Redwaller. Come on now, cheer up, earn yore afternoon tea. I'll show ye how I collect honey from our beesyou can lend a paw."
They strolled from the gatehouse toward the northeast wall corner, where the hives were situated.
"But I've never tried taking honey from bees, Gonff. Don't they have a nasty habit of stinging you?"
"What? Sting me, the Prince of Mousethieves? Never! Not as long as I can pretend I'm a bumblebee an' sing while I steal the honey from under their noses, missie."
Trimp giggled. "Oh really, Gonff? What do you sing to a bee?"
"Oh, this'n'that, y'know. I usually start like this.
"Ho fuzz buzz buzz, look who's a-buzzin',
Good day, sir bee, I'm Gonff yore cuzzin ..."
Trimp's laughter mingled with the Mousethief's song on the sunkissed noon air as they skipped paw in paw across the lawns of Redwall Abbey.
Chapter 2
In the days following Trimp's arrival at Redwall Abbey it became obvious to everybeast that something was wrong with their Warrior. Martin was no longer his customary jovial and helpful self. Often he was missing at mealtimes, and he spent more and more time outside the Abbey. It was a worrisome situation: Martin, the very backbone of Redwall, silent and pensive, with a faraway look clouding his eyes. Skipper and Dinny Foremole wandered up onto the east walltop, which was an ideal place to view the beauty of Mossflower Wood in summer. Lady Amber and Coggs were also up on the ramparts. Foremole greeted them with a wave.
"Gudd day to ee. You'm bain't seen Marthen, 'ave ee?"
Lady Amber placed a paw to her lips, cautioning silence. Pointing downward over a battlement, she said in a low voice, "Martin's sittin' down there alone!"
Skipper crouched below the walltop, shaking his head. "So that's where our Warrior goes when he leaves the Abbey. Still, y'can't blame him. 'Tis a good place for anybeast seekin' solitude from others."
Coggs peeped over at the lonely figure sitting below. "I tell ye, friends, 'tain't like Martin to act this way. He's just sittin there with his back agin the wall, starin' out at the trees. What'll we do?"
Ever the sensible otter, Skipper began descending the wallsteps, down to the lawn behind the orchard.
"Come away, mates. I'd hate t'think Martin would know we're up 'ere a-spyin' on him. While he's outside, we could 'old a quick meetin' with the Abbess to sort the problem out."
All concerned gathered in the gatehouse. Ferdy and Coggs served them elderflower cordial and slices of plum cake. Old Abbess Germaine held a trumpet, made from a spiral seashell with its end cut off, to her ear. Though her body was frail and her hearing none too good, the ancient mouse's other senses were still sharp and her eyes twinkled and shone keenly. She let them rove over the assembly, Bella, Columbine, Skipper, Dinny Foremole and Lady Amber, finally coming to rest on Trimp and Gonff.
"Hmm. My intuition tells me that our guest Trimp and the Mousethief know more of this affair than we do, friends. So I want you to speak up clearly, one at a time, please. Start at the beginning, always the best place to begin. Pray keep silent, the rest of youI'll hear from everybeast in due course. When the story is complete, I'll give you my decision as Mother Abbess, based of course on your facts."
There were smiles and nods of agreement all around. Even as a young mouse, Abbess Germaine had possessed great sense and wisdom. Now, with the experience of countless seasons upon her old head, every Redwaller trusted her judgement without question. They were certain that their beloved Abbess could solve any problem.
It was late afternoon when Martin entered the Abbey by the main gate. He was immediately set on by a group of Dibbuns, the infant creatures of Redwall. Baby Gonflet was clearly the ringleader, wrestling fiercely with Martin's footpaw, until the Warrior allowed himself to be laid flat on his back. Martin was immensely fond of the abbey-babes, always managing to make time for them and their odd little games. He gasped as they sat on his paws and held his ears. Baby Gonflet knelt on Martin's chest, shaking a paw under the Warrior's nose.