Triss chuckled silently at the way her old friend often repeated phrases.
She set about gathering up the cut turnips. Lend a paw with these, you old grumbler, let’s get them out to the others. Every bit helps.
The squirrelmaid poked her head over the sill of the high chamber window and imitated the harsh skrike of a seagull. Far below a gang of creatures were working, laying a path of pine logs to make a walkway between the sloping grass hill and the rocky shore of the river. It would run from the gates of Riftgard fortress, along its edge, to the jetty. Moored at the pier’s end, facing downriver to the sea, was a ship. It was small, with one square purple sail, a very pretty little craft, skilfully built and wonderfully ornamented.
The workers, an assortment of squirrels, mice, hedgehogs and otters, looked upward at the window. A slim, pretty sea ottermaid named Sleeve murmured, Stan’ aside, mates, ‘ere comes supper, thanks to miz Triss.
As they dropped the turnips down, Triss questioned Drufo about her father, whom she had never known.
Do you remember my father? What was he like, Drufo?
The old squirrel shook his head fondly. Like no other, young ‘un, like no other! There was never a swordbeast born could cross blades with Rocc Arrem, an’ I knows, ‘cos I fought alongside him. We was like brothers.
Triss heaved more turnips over the sill to her friends below. But despite all that, he was slain.
Drufo paused for a moment, his face grim. Brought him down with arrows, more’n a score o’ those dirty Riftgard rats. I remembers it t’this day, but Rocc, yore pa, went down fightin’, snapped his blade an’ hurled it in their faces. Rocc Arrem wasn’t never one to surrender, never!
Triss sighed as she swept the last vegetables up from the floor. Wish I’d have been old enough to fight, they’d have never got him. We’d have still been free, living in the mountains upriver, all of us.
Drufo watched those below gathering the last of the turnips. He looked to the high mountains on either side of the river, thick pinewoods sweeping down their sides to the rocky banks, still patched with last winter’s heavy snows.
The old squirrel voiced his thoughts. Ah, ‘tis a cold hard place to live, this northland, I tell ye, an’ a harder place to be enslaved in than any I know.
Keeping her voice low, the squirrelmaid drew close to Drufo. Once we’ve got the boat built, it’ll be downriver and the open seas for us. We’ll find a better life in those lands beyond the great sea.
Drufo grabbed her paw anxiously. Triss, don’t be foolish, nobeast ever escaped from Riftgard an’ lived to tell of it. You’ve got to ferget those mad ideas!
Triss pulled her paw from his grasp. Four more days, that’s all it’ll take, Drufo. I’m not missing a chance of freedom by being fainthearted.
Shogg the otter and Welfo the hedgehog have been helping me. Our boat should be ready soon. You can escape with us, there’s room for one more!
Drufo looked at Triss anxiously, keeping his voice low. You three don’t know the danger yore in, missy. Y’just don’t know. Stealin’ wood from the King’s new walkway, pilin’ up vittles, an’ tackin’ t’gether rags for a sail, ‘tis too risky. I want no part of it, no part, d’ye hear me? I ain’t goin’ t’be responsible for the death o’ young creatures!
Triss cocked an ear to a sound outside on the stairway. She muttered swiftly under her breath, Stow it, some-beast’s coming!
The door was wrenched suddenly open. Captain Riftun and four of his rats marched into the chamber. Triss and Drufo fell upon all fours, making a pretence of cleaning the floor. Riftun was a mean-natured rat; cruelty was stamped on his narrow face. He leaned on his spear and placed a footpaw hard on the back of Triss’s neck.
So tell me, wot are slaves doin’ alone an’ unattended in a roomful o’
weapons, eh?
Drufo kept his tone humble as he explained. Princess Kurda gave us permission, Cap’n. We been attendin’ her at sword practice. Me’n’Triss is just cleanin’ up. We’re near done, Cap’n.
The rat Captain glanced round the chamber. Looks clean enough t’me, eh, lads?
The four rat guards nodded their agreement eagerly. Aye, Cap’n!
Riftun lashed out with his spearhaft, knocking Drufo flat. Don’t ever let me catch yer alone in here again. Get down t’the walkway an’ report for work. On the double!
Drufo scrambled up and made for the door. Triss was about to rise and go with him, when Riftun brought his spearpoint down to rest at the base of her skull.
Not you. I’ve had you watched, missy. Yore goin’ down in the cages t’keep yore two liddle pals, the otter an’ the spikepig, company. Bet you thought I didn’t know you was makin’ an escape boat. Take ‘er, guards!
Two rat guards grabbed Triss’s paws whilst the other two menaced her with their spears. Drufo tried to intercede.
But, Cap’n, it couldn’t have been ‘er, she’s been with me all the time fer days now. Triss ain’t done nothin’, I swear it!
Riftun gave him a kick that sent him staggering awkwardly down the stairs.
He winked at the four guards. Show me a slave an’ I’ll show yer a liar.
Take ‘er to the cages, she’ll sing like a lark when I’m done with ‘er!
Triss was hauled off downstairs, tight-lipped but struggling. She glimpsed Drufo’s pitiful, frightened face as they dragged her off to the punishment cages.
2
Beyond the trackless seas, far from the fjords and mountains of Riftgard, the late-spring afternoon was mellow as butter and blue as a periwinkle.
Great Abbot Apodemus and his old companion Malbun Grimp sat dozing peacefully on the sunwarmed ramparts of Redwall Abbey’s northeast wall.
Somewhere over the treetops of Moss-flower a blackbird warbled its rich, fruity aria to the season. There was hardly a breeze to be felt. Down below, the Abbey grounds basked still and silent in serene noontide.
Malbun was a wood mouse who held the position of Healer and Recorder of Redwall. She was drifting off into a slumber, both eyelids drooping as her chin dropped toward her chest. An admiral butterfly ventured to perch on Malbun’s nose. She banished it with a twitch of her snout and opened one eye.
Any sign of them coming back yet, Ap?
Apodemus had his eyes closed, but he was not yet asleep. I dunno. Why don’t you go and look, Mai?
Malbun opened her other eye, turning her gaze upon the yellow-necked mouse who was Father Abbot of all Redwall.’Cos I’m only a lowly beast around here. You’re the Abbot, they’re your responsibility.
Apodemus kept his eyes closed, relishing the warmth of the sun upon his ears. Tis a powerful position, being Abbot of Redwall Abbey.
Malbun considered this statement before replying. Aye, so it is.
A slow smile broke the repose of Apodemus’s features. Well, I’m glad you realise that, Mai. 1 order you to go and look to see if the whortleberry gathering party are return-ing!
With a sigh, the Healer Recorder pushed herself upright, smiling as she shuffled to the battlements. That’s a flagrant abuse of power, Father Abbot. I’ll do your bidding, but I’d like it noted, I’m doing it under protest.
The Abbot opened his eyes and winked at his companion. Protest noted.
Now go and look, will you?
Turning her back, Malbun leaned against the battlement. Don’t have to look, I can hear’em.... Listen!
Carrying over the still air, voices could be heard raised in song, young and old alike.
All in the days of spring,