Triss: A Novel of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  “Well, wot can y’tell us about trees?”

  Grifty was considering Log a Log’s question as he poked at the fire. “Trees, hmm, now let me see. I can do ye a rhyme about trees. Would that be any help?”

  Mokug chuckled. “We needs all the help we can git, mate. Do your rhyme for us, please.”

  It took Grifty a moment to recall the rhyme, then he looked up from the fire and began reciting:

  “Most trees are old, long-standing friends,

  With crowns of leaf and trunks of wood,

  Their lives o’er countless seasons span,

  And learn from them we should.

  Great oak is king of woodlands,

  It rules both copse and glade,

  To give us acorns from its cups,

  Midst wondrous spreading shade.

  Bold chestnut, too, has nuts for you,

  Some maples’ sap is sweet,

  Slim rowan, known as mountain ash,

  Bears berries red to eat.

  Dark baubles from the elder,

  And juniper so fine,

  Like fruits of good wild cherry,

  Can all be turned to wine.

  But other trees are not like these,

  Take caution and beware,

  Some are born to carry death,

  Although they may look fair.

  Bright berries of spurge laurel,

  Laburnum’s flowers of gold,

  And blossoms from a guelder rose,

  All beauteous to behold,

  But poison in their nature,

  I say to you, my friend,

  Ignore this timely warning,

  And your days will swiftly end!”

  Shogg slapped his rudder sharply on the ground. “Haharr, there ’tis, plain as the crust on a pie! Laburnum flowers o’ gold an’ they’re poison, too. ‘ ’Twixt leanin’ ash an’ poison gold.’ We’re lookin’ for a laburnum crossed by an ash tree wot ain’t growin’ straight!”

  Mokug tugged at Triss’s robe. “Wot does a laburnum look like?”

  Triss explained. “It’s not a big tree, but quite slender, with smallish spearhead-shaped leaves and long chains of bright yellow flowers hanging from every branch. Laburnum’s a deadly tree, though, not just the flowers, but the leaves, wood and bark and all.”

  She was interrupted by Log a Log calling to his scouts, “Take a look round the woods, mates, see if ye can bring back a laburnum branch to show ole Mokug.”

  Triss was surprised by the shrews’ alacrity. They seemed to have been gone no time at all, when one came racing back. In his paw he clutched a laburnum branch, wrapped around one end with dock leaves to protect himself.

  As soon as Mokug caught sight of it, he was beside himself with eagerness. “I’ve seen one of ’em before, a tree all covered wid those yellow flowers. I’ve seen one, I tell ye!”

  Shogg was caught up in the excitement. “Where, mate, where?”

  Mokug ceased jumping up and down. “Er, er, I couldn’t put me paw on it right now, but I’ll remember, never fear, mates. I know ’twas someplace east of where ye found me when that ole owl was slain. Aye, I’ll know it when I sees it!”

  Log a Log shook his head. “But that’s away from the vermin tracks we’re followin’, well away.”

  There was a momentary silence, then Churk spoke up. “All the better for us, I say. If the vermin are trackin’ the snakes to their den, they’ll be goin’ in by the front way. But if we can find the back entrance, we’ll know where both the vermin an’ the serpents are. Inside!”

  Sagax left off whetting his axe blade and viewed the sky. “How far off would you say the two trees are, Mokug?”

  The hamster scratched his ear. “Oh, a fair piece, I’d say, at least half a mornin’s walk.”

  Log a Log thrust his rapier into the earth. “Right, then we camp ’ere tonight an’ break camp at dawn. With any luck, that’ll bring us to the place before midday sun shines bright for us!”

  38

  Redwall’s rose-coloured sandstone walls still felt warm from the summer day’s heat. Blackbirds could be heard warbling throatily in the evening’s stillness. Father Abbot had gone back to his Dibbun days; he was enjoying himself down at the Abbey pond with a group of Abbeybabes. The old mouse cut a comical figure as, with his long habit tucked up, he dashed into the shallows and joined in with the fun of skipping stones, chortling happily, “Three, four, five, look, my stone bounced six times!”

  Ruggum glared at him suspiciously. “Yurr, oi only counted foive bouncers, zurr, b’ain’t that roight, Malbun, marm?”

  Malbun, who was sitting on the grassy bank with Crikulus and Memm, agreed with the infant mole. “Aye, Ruggum, five it was. You still hold the record for six bounces. You counted wrong, Father Abbot!”

  Abbot Apodemus pulled a face that had the Dibbuns squeaking with laughter. “You just don’t want me to win the candied chestnut trifle, you old cheat—bet you’re going to share it with Ruggum. You’re both in this together!”

  Crikulus looked sternly over his glasses. “Six bounces gets the trifle, sir—yours was only five. I counted ’em meself!”

  The Abbot registered an expression of comic shock. “You’re both on Ruggum’s side now! Memm Flackery, tell them my stone bounced six times, please.”

  The Harenurse’s ears twitched. “I certainly will not, sah! An Abbot of your age, cheatin’! What’s Redwall comin’ to?”

  Friar Gooch solved the dispute by marching up with Furrel, his molemaid assistant, in tow. “My candied chestnut trifle’s been stolen!”

  Wading out of the pond, the Abbot unhitched his wet habit. “Are you sure you’re right, Gooch, stolen?”

  Furrel assisted him up the bank. “Burr aye, zurr, ee troifle’s bee’d stoled roight enuff. Oi see’d ee Friar putten et on ee gurt slate shelf, to let it be coolen.”

  Gooch cut in, fluttering his jaws wildly. “A moment later, there it was, gone!”

  Paws akimbo, Memm stared accusingly at one or two likely Dibbun candidates. “Own up, you villains, who’s sneaked back to the kitchens instead of playin’ skimmin’ stones, wot?”

  Kroova’s head broke the surface of the pond’s centre, where he had been acting as lifeguard, and swam ashore. “None of these liddle ’uns been away from this pond, marm, I’ve kept a close check on ’em since we arrived ’ere. The question ye should be askin’ is, where’s Scarum?”

  The Abbot gaped disbelievingly at Kroova. “Scarum? You don’t mean he . . .”

  The otter nodded decisively. “Aye, Scarum. As hares go, beggin’ y’pardon, miz Memm, Scarum is the biggest glutton ’twixt ’ere an’ the cracks o’ doom. Come on, let’s find ’im!”

  The young hare in question was snoring in an upturned barrow at the orchard entrance. A candied chestnut was stuck to the fur between his ears, meadowcream liberally festooned his whiskers, and traces of redcurrant, blackberry, maple sponge and other trifle ingredients clung to his narrow chest and bulging stomach.

  He grumbled dreamily as Kroova poked a paw into his midriff, “Gerroff, it’s all mine, go an’ get your own, rotter!”

  Memm took the wheelbarrow and turned him out with a mighty heave. Scarum sat up, blinking.

  “What ’n the name . . . I say there, chaps, have a care, wot. A gentle shake’s all that’s needed t’wake your jolly old military commander. Ho hum, what’s up with you bounders, all standin’ round with faces like flippin’ fried frogs?”

  Memm seized his ears and hauled him upright. “Candied chestnut trifle, sah, where is it?”

  Scarum transformed into the picture of outraged innocence. “Candied chestnut trifle, marm, what’re you wafflin’ on about, wot wot? Never come across one in me life, no marm!”

  He winced as Kroova ripped the sticky chestnut from between his ears and stuck it on the end of his nose. Quite deliberately, the sea otter wiped cream from Scarum’s whiskers and smeared it along his top lip like a moustache. Kroova brought his face close until they were eye-to-eye.
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  “That candied chestnut trifle, you ’orrible great foodbag. Don’t tell lies, yore only makin’ it worse for yoreself!”

  Scarum forced a weak smile. “Oh, that one! Well, why didn’t you say, old lad? I, er, spotted it in the kitchen an’ just took a small nibble, nothin’ too drastic, wot.”

  The Abbot stared questioningly at him. “A small nibble?”

  Scarum nodded emphatically. “Yes, sah, barely a smidgen. Don’t know what happened to the rest of the confounded trifle. I expect those moles guzzled it. Small types, but incredibly greedy, those molechaps. I say, what d’you think you’re doin’? Yowch! Owch! Lemme go, mercy!”

  Memm and Kroova had him by an ear apiece. They hauled him off to the Abbey, with Malbun giving him the dressing-down of his life, accompanied by hard paw prods.

  “That trifle was to be shared out among the Dibbuns as a treat, with the winner of the stone-skimming getting the first portion. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, depriving those poor babes of their special treat?”

  Opening the Abbey door, the Abbot took charge. “Thank you, Memm and Kroova, you may release him now. Right, master Scarum, follow me!”

  The door slammed behind them. There was an awed silence as the Dibbuns stood looking at one another on the doorstep. Ruggum spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Boo urr, oi wunners wot zurr h’Abbot bee’s goin’ t’do to Scarum?”

  Mousebabe Turfee had some definite views on the subject. “Choppa off’n his tail an’ baff de daylights out of him, an’ make ’im go t’bed for fifty ’leven days. Ho yes!”

  Memm picked the mousebabe up. “Is that all? Lettin’ the cad off far too easy, if y’ask me, wot!”

  Later that evening, Friar Gooch and Furrel made it up to the Dibbuns by creating another trifle and serving it out to them in the orchard. The Abbot came out to join them, gratefully accepting a bowl of the delicious trifle and a beaker of strawberry fizz. Crowding around him, the Dibbuns eagerly wanted to know what punishment had been meted out to the greedy hare. As each enquiry became more gruesome, the Abbot called for quiet.

  “No, no, I never chopped off his tail or boiled him up in the soup—what a bloodthirsty notion!”

  Crikulus could no longer restrain his curiosity. “Then how did you deal with the wretch, Father?”

  Putting aside his bowl, the Abbot explained. “Well, the first thing I did was to put him on a diet for three days—only one portion of lettuce leaves and water per day. Then I locked him in the main Dibbuns’ dormitory with pail, scrubber, broom and duster. Scarum must scrub the place from top to bottom, floor, walls, windows, everything. After that he must restuff all the mattresses, make up the beds with clean bed linen and wash all the old stuff. That should keep him amused!”

  Opinions were divided, with Dibbuns still muttering darkly of tail chopping and soup boiling, whilst the elders nodded sagely.

  Kroova smiled with satisfaction. “Three days with just one meal a day of lettuce an’ water? You’ll ’ear ole Scarum yowlin’ a league away!”

  Looking over the top of his glasses, the Abbot agreed. “I’ve no doubt we will. I’ve also stripped him of his command. Kroova, you’ll be in charge of the wallguards. Every other beast can sleep out here in the orchard. ’Tis a fine warm night here, and out of yowling range, too.”

  The Dibbuns cheered gleefully. Sleeping out in the orchard was an adventure for them. Sister Vernal, Mimsy and Memm exchanged grim looks; their night’s work was cut out for them, keeping the Abbeybabes together in one place.

  Dawn was well up and a fresh summer’s day was under way. A needlepoint of sunlight pierced the gloom of Brockhall. Zassaliss uncoiled, dealing the other two adders light blows with his blunt nose.

  “Hisssst! Sssomething goesss on outsssside, let usss ssseeee!”

  Kurda had chosen the skinniest, most useless-looking Freebooter, an old searat called Whidge. The remainder of the Seascab’s crew were forced to watch, helpless and unarmed, as Vorto and three Ratguards laid paws on Whidge, dragging him shrieking to an open spot within view of the door in the oak tree. When Whidge saw the stake, driven deep into the ground, with a rope collar attached to it, he dug his footpaws in and wailed aloud to his comrades, “Don’t let ’em do this t’me, mates, ’elp me, ’elp me!”

  A blow to his jaw from Vorto’s spearbutt knocked the old searat senseless. Ratguards menaced the Freebooters with their spearpoints as Kurda addressed them warningly.

  “Dat von is old and useless. Anybeast tryink to rescue ’im vill take his place, yarr?”

  Cowed and leaderless, they hung their heads in silence. Vorto swiftly bound Whidge’s paws together and tightened the rope halter at the back of the searat’s neck, where he could not reach it. Riggan signaled everybeast back to the cover of the undergrowth where Vorto placed two Ratguards with each group of Freebooters. They held the crewbeast’s weapons, ready to distribute at a nod from their captain, while Kurda took to a high fernbed, where she crouched with Vorto and Riggan on either side of her. The Pure Ferret could see the door from her vantage point. She drew her sabre.

  “Und now ve haff only to vait!”

  From his spyhole behind the door, Zassaliss and the other two snakes had seen all that went on. Sesstra hissed softly, “They leave ussss food, they fear usssss!”

  Her brother Harssacss flickered his tongue sensuously. “Brother Zassaliss, doessss not the ssssight of food make usssss ravenousssss?”

  Zassaliss was bigger and more powerfully built than his brother and sister. He retreated down the tunnel, pulling them along with him. Sarengo’s rusty mace chain clanked as he halted a safe distance away from the entrance.

  “Can you not ssssee, it issss a trap. We will sssstay here, sssstill and sssssilent. The day will be warm—at noon they will tire of waiting and sssssleep. Then we will sssstrike fasssst and sssseize the bait! You two take him. I will watch over ussss and take care of any foolsss who try to attack usss!”

  Triss left the main body of the column and went ahead to catch up with Mokug. The sprightly old hamster was scurrying along, with his eyes fixed on the woodlands ahead. He pointed. “Haharr, we’re gettin’ near there, missy, see. Laburnums, there’s plenty of ’em in this neck o’ the woods.”

  Triss saw the splotches of hanging yellow blooms amid the trees. “D’you know which is the right one?”

  Mokug plowed onward. “I will when I sees it, I’m shore!”

  Skipper caught up with them, looking doubtful. “We’re a good way east o’ the place where I found the capes an’ lanterns—quite a ways, in fact. Ahoy, Mokug, are you sure it’s round here someplace?”

  The golden hamster halted. “ ’Tis our lucky day, mates—there’s the leanin’ ash, dead ahead!”

  Some unknown force of nature had caused the ash tree to grow at a strange angle. A laburnum had caught the ash trunk in its fork as it sprouted. Being stronger, the ash had forced the laburnum to bend. Together they formed a rough diagonal cross with their trunks.

  Skipper placed his chin in the cross joint. “All I can see is the sun in me eyes.”

  Churk shook her head at his efforts. “Then try comin’ round the other side an’ lookin’ that way.”

  Skipper rubbed his eyes. “That’s wot comes o’ bein’ born wid brains. ’Ere, Sagax, you give it a go, matey!”

  The young badger took up his place on the other side of the tree. With his chin in the intersection, he gazed ahead. “I’m afraid I don’t see anything except woodland, trees, bushes, ferns. No, sorry, can’t see a thing!”

  “That’s probably ’cos it ain’t midday yet.” Shogg stared upward at the sky. “We’ll just ’ave to wait.”

  Skipper winked broadly at Log a Log. “Wot would ye do without us otters, I ask ye?”

  The Guosim Chieftain replied nonchalantly. “Share out yore vittles atween the rest of us, me ole mate!”

  Sagax brightened up. “Vittles, that’s a nice idea. Thank goodness we don’t have Scarum along with us.”

  They d
ined on some of Friar Gooch’s oatloaf, which had honey and nuts baked into it, together with apples and flasks of dandelion and burdock cordial.

  Triss felt better than she had in a long time, surrounded by good friends, true honest beasts. A sudden wave of affection for Shogg swept over her. She watched him joking and chuckling with some Guosim shrews as they shared their food. Good old faithful Shogg! He had been with her from the start, through thick and thin. It would be pleasant for them to live out their seasons at Redwall, with all its happy atmosphere and trusty companions.

  The squirrelmaid gazed at her reflection in the blade of Martin the Warrior’s great sword. She could see in her own eyes that this could never be. Not whilst there was a single creature living under the yoke of slavery, across the seas in Riftgard. Drufo’s voice was still burned into her memory: “Get away from ’ere, Trissy. Get away! I ain’t goin’ nowhere! This is as good a day to die as any. Remember me, remember yore father. You’ll be back to free the slaves one day, I know ye will. Now go, don’t waste the chance we gave ye!”

  As Triss gazed at her reflection in the swordblade, the noise of creatures talking, laughing and eating together blended into a fuzzy background hum. The squirrelmaid’s eyes were fixed on the bright blade. However, it was not her features staring back at her; it was Martin, the Warrior of Redwall, whose strong, gentle voice echoed through her mind:

  “ ’Twixt leaning ash and poison gold,

  Trisscar Swordmaid, look, behold,

  What is sought by everyone.

  Now! Ere high noon light moves on.”

  Shogg poured out a drink for Triss, but as he held it out to her, she rose dreamily and brushed by him. Log a Log watched her go toward the two trees.

  “She looks like she’s sleepwalkin’, mate. Hi, Trissy, where are ye off to?”

  Shogg silenced the shrew hurriedly. “Hush, mate, let ’er be!”