Authors Note: I decided to read Redwall. Big mistake. I can't get it out of my mind. Only two of Redwall books are available translated to my language, and I have yet only read the first one. Never the less I had to write this down, and I hope I have not made too many mistakes. I am rather uncertain regarding when in the Redwall timeline this occurs, but I believe it to be some hundred years after "Redwall" and "Mattimeo" but as I said, I really don't know what I'm talking about. As always I would appreciate reviews. Anything will do, but please be nice.
Disclaimer: The world of Redwall and historical characters like Matthias and Martin belong to the genius know as Brian Jacques. The rest of the characters are mine, to the best of my knowledge.
Redwall: The Prince of Cats
Or
The Basilisk Crown
Part II
Snowflake chewed on the last piece of fish. The Abbot had been right, it did taste wonderful. He felt better then he had in weeks, and understood why the Redwallers could walk freely among every creature in the forest. He felt at peace.
But a soldiers work is never done as long as his mission is not completed. He sat up and wondered if he was strong enough to stand upright. A mousemaid came in and saw him.
"You should lie down, Master Silverslash," she said. She tried to sound firm, but he could hear the fear in her voice.
"I know," he said. "But if I have to lie hear and pretend to be dead I will go mad. Where are my things?"
"Your weapons and belongings are in the room next to this one," she answered. "I am afraid your chainmail was so damaged that we sent it to a smith to be repaired."
"Is he skilled?" the cat asked.
"Oh, very skilled, master Silverslash."
"Very well," Snowflake said. "I do not need it quite yet. Fetch my axe for me, my dear."
The maid doubted for a moment. "I am not sure that would be…"
"Please," the cat begged. "You need not to fear me. Even if my honour would allow me to assault you, I am still too weak to face your warriors. I only want it for training."
The mouse was still not sure of what to do, and Snowflake laughed. "Very well, little one, I shall fetch it myself."
Ignoring the mousemaid's protests he walked over to the next room and grabbed the engraved battleaxe from the shelf. He left his dagger and helmet, and his shirt had not yet been returned after being washed and fixed. He left the room and soon found the door leading to the outer corridor.
"Oh, my," the mouse said to herself. "I better go tell someone."
The large creature watched the great walls of the Abbey from his hideout in the bushes of Mossflower. What he was to do was not an easy task. In fact, few had ever succeeded. They said that every try to rob the Abbey was either doomed to fail or cursed with great unpleasantness for the thief.
That was why Dirk Velvetpaw had come. He knew it would be a worthy challenge.
The marten would now wait until sunset, and hidden in the shadows he would strike, swift and silently.
He sneaked back to his camp and sat down to get something to eat. One should never try to steal anything on an empty stomach.
Bleys was rather angry as he stepped out in the garden. The blasted creature was gone! When he heard that the cat had left his room and taken his axe with him he had immediately fetched his trusty broadsword, suspecting that the cat was up to no good. He found Michael sitting with his back towards a tree along with Old Hortense Ashstripe, the ageing badgermatron of Redwall. Both of them smiled when they saw the fox coming, which he found odd since he could not see anything funny in the situation.
"The cat…" he said plainly. "…has left his room."
"We know," Michael said.
"He took his axe," Bleys said.
"Yes, we have come to understand that," Hortense said.
"Do you realise that he can be anywhere?"
"Indeed he can," the badger said. "But now he happens to be over there."
Bleys turned his head in the direction Hortense pointed. Snowflake Silverslash was standing on the battlements, barechested except for his bandages and with his axe in his hand. The setting sun turned his fur into gold, and the light played on the weapon as he slowly moved it through the air in a strange and beautiful dance. Bleys did not need his training in the arts of war to realise that if dance had been made faster, the cat would suddenly be an opponent of lethal magnitude.
"Relax, young one," Hortense said. "We understand that you do not trust him, but you can not guard him day and night."
Bleys sighed. "Am I being paranoid?"
Michael and Hortense looked at each other.
"No," Michael said.
"Not at all," Hortense said and shook her head.
Then they both exploded in laughter.
"That was not very nice of you," Bleys said with a wounded tone in his voice.
"Hohoho! I am sorry, lad," Hortense chuckled. "You are careful, but there is a thin line between Careful and Paranoid, and you are dangerously close to it."
"Haha! Dangerously close? He is practically standing on it!" Michael laughed. "My dear friend, the badger is truly right. I know I can not expect you to trust him like a brother, but I at least want you to give him a chance."
"Very well," Bleys said and smiled, since the merryness of his two friends was affecting him. "I promise that I will try."
"Good," Hortense said. "My God! Look at the sky, burning from the touch of the setting sun! This is perfect weather for a swim in the pond."
"Honestly, Hortense, I do not understand how you could become so old when you have habits like that," Bleys said.
"Habits like that keeps a badger young, lad," Hortense said. "I wonder if the otters are interested in a swimming contest."
Michael and Bleys watched the old badger as she left the garden, humming slightly to herself.
"Can she still outswim a otter?" the fox asked. "I was surprised the first time I saw it. I did not believe it was possible."
"With old Ashstripe everything is possible," Michael smiled. "There are legends about that badger and her exploits."
"How old is she?"
"No one knows," Michael said and shrugged his shoulders. "She has been here since I was little, and she was old already then. But I swear that one day I am going to look thought the chronicles and find out her age."
"Why not ask her?"
"Ask her yourself, but I happen to enjoy breathing."
The fox shrugged his shoulders. "Fine." He started to walk away.
"Where are you going?" Michael asked.
Bleys turned towards him and blazed a silvery grin. "I am going to give our guest a chance."
"Oh my," Michael sighed.
Snowflake stood on the battlements, performing the ritual movements his father had teached him long ago. It seems so far away now. He heard someone coming towards him from behind. He twirled around with his axe raised, more on reflex then anything else. Before him stood the fox with one had resting on the cap of a large sword.
"Training, Master Silverslash?" Bleys asked.
Snowflake relaxed and let the weapon slide down the leather-loop on his belt. "Please do not call me 'master'," he begged. "I am not a tailor. If you feel a need to call my be a title, use 'sir'."
"You are a knight?" Bleys asked, suddenly interested.
"One of the best," Snowflake said with a slight bow. "Prelate of the First Claw Order and personal guard of Prince Thomas Tilldrum, at your service."
"That may be," Bleys said. "But I must tell you that I do not trust you at all. However, my friends has bid me to give you a chance, so I wanted you to know that I intend to treat you like the guest you are for as long as you are staying." His eyes suddenly sparked and locked with Snowflake's. "But if you betray our trust, I swear I will hunt you down and cut your heart out, be you a knight or not."
"Your loyalty to your friends honours you, fox," Snowflake responded. "I understand that you resent my kind. Why I do not know, but I do not blame you. I have had bad experiences with foxes myself. I only hope we can come to respect each other."
"So do I," Bleys nodded and changed the subject. "Those movement you did, where have you learned them?"
"Passed down by the warriors of our kind since generations." The cat pulled up his axe again and held it for the fox to behold. "Works both with shield and without. Every now and then improvements are made, refining it into an true art of deadly simplicity."
"It sounds fascinating," Bleys said and meant it.
"Would you like me to show you?" Snowflake asked. "It works with swords too."
The interest in Bleys' eyes sparked once again. "It does?"
Michael was smiling when Thorn and Cal came to him some minutes later.
"Hello, brother, have you seen Bleys?" Thorn asked.
"Over there," the Warrior said and pointed.
"Well, I've never…!" she gasped. The squirrel only stared.
On the battlements Bleys were standing next to Snowflake with his sword drawn. He tried to follow the movements made by the cat, and though they could not hear them speaking, they could clearly see the cat giving Bleys instructions and they both seemed to get along quite well.
"Now I have seen everything," Cal proclaimed.
"You said it, Cal," Thorn smiled. "You said it."
The sun had now almost disappeared behind the horizon, and stars could already be seen on the dark sky. Dirk knew it was time to act. He filled his backpack with his equipment and headed of to the Abbey to wait for the right moment. That night he would enter Redwall. He knew it in his heart.
