Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

The realisation of what had happened hit Whippscut. O lack a bally day an’ a half! They’ve run off t’sea with him. No wonder I lost the confounded trail!

Hightor sat at the table, placing his striped head between both paws, his voice weary with resignation. Better not breathe a word to Merola or Dunfreda. No use worrying them further. Just say you lost the tracks over some rocks and shifting sands. I tell you, Whipp, those two have really done it now!

The Colonel twirled his moustache fiercely, tidying it up. You’re right, old friend, the worryin’ will be up to us from now on, wot!

4

Agarnu, King of Riftgard, hated the sea. Just the smell of it could make him queasy. He loathed sailing and detested boats or ships of any kind. He had been this way even when he embarked on that final ill-fated voyage with his father, Sarengo. Agarnu was quite content to rule his kingdom of fjords, mountains, pine forests and pebble beaches from the comfort of his father’s throne.

Only Pure Ferrets could rule Riftgard. Agarnu was a true Pure Ferret, snow white with pink, glittering eyes. Slumping down on the purple cushions of his shell-ornamented throne, he glared out over his gross stomach, which extended right up to his many chins. A false leg, carved from the white bone of some great fish, clicked against the floor, a dreadful reminder of that last voyage. Agarnu had been the only creature to make it back to Riftgard alive.

The peace of his throne room was shattered when Prince Bladd came hurtling in yelling and wailing, Dadda, stop Kurda, she come after me vit der sword!

He scrambled behind the throne as Princess Kurda bounded in, swinging her sword.

Agarnu nodded swiftly to his Ratguards. Six of them penned her in, grasping their spearhafts to form a barrier around the irate Princess.

Agarnu glared at her.

Stop dis fightink, you ‘ear me, Kurda. Now, vot you got to say for youself, eh?

The Princess strode forward with the Ratguards still penning her, but moving along with her as she went. She sighted her brother cowering behind the throne and pointed the sword at him.

Dat fat toad, he been tellink tales again, yarr!

Her father’s pink eyes continued glaring at her. Tales? T’ree barrels of herrink iz not tales. Dey’s food, not practice for der swordplayink, you no do dat vit food!

Kurda curled a contemptuous lip at her father and made some slashing motions in the air with her sword. Tchak! Der be plenty more fishes in der sea.

Agarnu stamped his carved-bone paw irately on the floor. Nodd if you keep choppink dem up for sword practice der von’t. But I not called you two here to talk about dat. Guards, leave us now. Bladd, gedd out from be’ind dat chair. Listen, I haff somet’ink important to talk about vit you both.

As the guards left, Captain Riftun strode in. Agarnu eyed him quizzically.

Yarr, Riftun, vot is it?

The Captain saluted with his spear. I’ve caught the creatures who were stealin’ the walkway wood, yer majesty. Three of em, a squirrel, an otter an’ a ‘edgehog. They was buildin’ an escape boat, stockin’ it up with vit-tles, too. Turnips, carrots an’ chopped ‘errings. Wot d’yer want doin’ with em? I’ve got all three locked up in the punishment cages.

Agarnu snorted and shrugged moodily. Vy tell me all dis? You de Cap’n, do vat you vant, don’t bodder me. A king have udder t’ings to do. Drown dem!

Kurda interrupted. No, I’ll deal wid dem. Live prisoners are good for der sword practice, ‘specially thiefs an’ es-capers!

Agarnu shook his head, regarding his daughter with distaste. Jus’ like you gran’father. Yarr, you a cruel one, Kurda. So be it. Save spoilin’

more barrels of herrink, eh, eh? The King’s stomach shook as he laughed at his little joke.

Kurda pawed her sword edge with anticipation.

Triss and her two friends shuddered with cold. The punishment cage was half submerged in the cold shallows of the fjord, which were fed by icy water from the mountains.

Welfo the hogmaid laughed bitterly. Brrr! Can’t stop me spikes from rattlin’!

Shogg the otter stared gloomily through the boards. Yore spikes’ll soon stop rattlin’ fer good, marm, Cap’n Riftun will see to that. It’s the death sentence fer us, mates, I’ll wager any thin’ on it!

Triss gritted through her chattering teeth, Stop that kind of talk, Shogg, we’re not dead yet. Let’s see what we can do about breaking out of this cage. We’ve got nothing to lose now.

The rest of the slaves labouring on the walkway cast sympathetic glances at the three creatures in the punishment cage. A guard flicked his whip out across their backs.

Get workin’, ye idle scum, lest yer wanna join yore pals in the cage.

C’mon now, get that wood laid, straighten that ground, keep those logs tight’n’even there, ye lazy lot!

Badly fed and poorly clad, the slaves toiled on, unable to stop and remove long pine splinters from their paws, or bandage scuffed, stone-scarred limbs with tufts of moss and grass. They were terrified to stop, lest they too end up in the dreaded cages, where they would face death from exposure, or execution at the sadistic whim of Captain Riftun.

Only when darkness fell were the workers allowed to halt in their chores.

Whips cracked as they were led off to the slave quarters beneath Riftgard.

There they would be fed on a single bowl of grain porridge, some vegetable roots and a pail of water between every group of ten.

Beneath the waning moon, cold night winds swept over the deserted worksite. Activity in the cage, which had begun furiously, had now slackened, owing to the intense cold eating into the bones of the three captives. They had groped around through the floor bars and collected rocks from the riverbed. First they had tried wedging them between the bars to see if the metal could be bent enough for them to squeeze through.

Then Shogg the otter, who was the strongest and most resistant to cold, battered away at the big well-greased padlock on the door grille. Neither method proved successful. Their limbs were growing slower and stiffer as the night advanced.

Welfo began to weep softly. Triss threw a paw about her shoulders and tried to comfort the hogmaid. Hush now, friend. Don’t cry. Keep your chin up, you wouldn’t want to give those vermin the satisfaction of seeing your tears now, would you? We’ll go down fighting to the last if we have to.

Shogg let his rock sink to the cage floor, whispering urgently, Quiet, mates, somebeast’s comin’!

It was Flith, Captain Riftun’s lieutenant. He stood watching them closely. Ceasing their activities, the three prisoners grasped the bars and stared dumbly back at the impassive rat.

Flith poked his spear out and rattled the bars. He tested the padlock by prodding it. Don’t worry, you three. We won’t let yer freeze t’death in there. We ain’t that cold-’earted, are we, ‘edgepig?

Welfo wiped tears from her eyes hopefully. No, Lieutenant.

Flith leaned on his spear and chuckled. Course we ain’t. Not one of us Riftgard rats is goin’ to lay a paw on ye. Princess Kurda is, though.

She’s got somethin’ special planned fer yew three. Goodnight an’ sleep well, now ... if ye can. Heeheeheehee!

Flith padded off, sniggering happily at his own joke. Triss felt her stomach turn over at the thought of Princess Kurda’s unimaginable designs for their fate.

No sooner had the lieutenant gone than another figure appeared from behind a stack of pine logs on the bank. Triss, miss Trissy, are ye all right?

The young squirrelmaid pushed her face to the bars, trying to keep the eagerness in her voice down. Drufo, 1 kept hoping you’d come. Good old Drufo!

The aged squirrel waded into the water, holding an earthenware jug above his head. He brought it close to the bars, but it would not go through.