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15

Within the following summer days, Sandokhan had fully recovered from the fight with Stumptail and his robbers. When Stephanie went to infirmary one day to check the wound for signs of infection, she was surprised when she found Sandokhan sat on one of the high windowsills. He was feeding crumbs of an oatmeal scone to a young sparrow. "How did you ever get up there, Mr. Sandokhan?" "With techniques I learned many seasons ago," he replied as he leapt down from the high ledge and landing nimbly on his footpaws. Sister Stephanie was taken aback by her guests' prowess, but the task at hand brought her back down to earth. "Anyway, I'm here to check your wound so arm up please." Sandokhan lifted his right arm as the mouse-maid examined the scar, "Hmm, more or less completely healed and there's no sign of infection. You're not having any effects from the poison are you? Feeling dizzy, being sick, that kind of thing?" "No, but I do feel a bit tired from all the travelling I've done," he replied. "Where have you been travelling from?" "Someplace far away," Sandokhan replied. "Noonvale?" "Er, further than that. From the far east, a land called Jima," "What kind of place is it? Is it anything like Mossflower?" "There are some similarities, but the flowers and trees are different and we have more hills and valleys," "It sounds lovely. But if you feel fatigued maybe you would care for a bath," "A bath sounds divine," Sandokhan replied extremely relieved. * Back in the abbey's study, Tim Churchmouse had already collected the last pieces of paper and now had the agonising task of sorting and trying to match the page halves together. Rollo was trying his hardest but it was going painfully slow. Every now and again Tim's attention would be drawn away from his task by the strange books Sandokhan had brought with him. He had already read through the first one but he couldn't make heads nor tails of the others. He bound up the matching pairs of pages and stored them away. "All right Rollo, lets have a break," Rollo stood up straight and stretched as Tim left the study to look for Sandokhan. * A good long soak in the bath was just what the fox needed, after scrambling out of the tub he sat cross legged in front of a window with a great view of Mossflower wood. He closed his eyes and started to breath slowly and deeply. As he meditated Sandokhan thought of his home and friends. In his mind he was back at the dojo before he graduated he stood outside on top of the stone steps in the relentless blaze of the summer sun. To his left he saw a mouse, with what looked like a great sword strapped across his back, sitting on a low wall by the dojo's gate. Sat next to him was the most radiant mouse-maid he had ever seen playing an instrument native to his homeland called a samisen. Sandokhan turned and looked at the two mice. The male mouse in return exchanged a smile and his mouth moved as if trying to talk but no sound came. Suddenly the fox found himself back at the battle of Niji gate, all around the same horrible scenes from Jima before he left. The fox then felt something bump into his footpaws, it was the severed head of his old master. The eyes suddenly snapped open... "Oh! Sorry Mr. Sandokhan I didn't know you weren't decent. I'll just leave your habit here." Sandokhan managed to catch just a glimpse of Stephanie as she closed the door behind her. The fox inspected the apparel he would be wearing whilst living with the abbey-dwellers. A green woollen novice's habit with a white girdle chord. He quickly changed and left the bathroom. When walking down one of the grand passages admiring the splendour of Redwall, he bumped into Tim Churchmouse. "Ah, you must be that fox they brought in," "I'm sorry, but you are?" Tim took the fox's paw and shook it warmly. "Tim Churchmouse, abbey recorder." "Sandokhan of Mochizuki," "Nice to meet you. Anyway I'm here to enquire about the books you've brought here. I don't recognise the script, all I know is it's not Loamscript nor butterfly-ese," "It's Jimanese. The language and writing of my homeland. If you are interested in my family's journals I guess I could help you translate, er, if you'd like." "That would be grand," replied Tim opening one of the books he brought down from the study with him. "First of all, why are the pictures upside down?" Sandokhan looked perplexed at Tim for a second before he took the book and turned it so the illustrations were right side up. "Because you've been looking at them upside down. First rule of Jimanese scripture; we read down and to the left. Not left to right." "Hmm, interesting..." Tim mused to himself as Sandokhan felt somebeast seize his paw and pull. "Come on Mr. Sandokhan, its supper time," it was Sister Stephanie. As he was being dragged down the corridor by the overexcited mousemaid, the fox called back to Tim, "I'll have to get back to you Churchmouse san." * The high rafters of Cavern Hole were ringing with the buzz of excited chatter from various creatures. As Sandokhan was led into Cavern Hole most of the clamour and chatter suddenly stopped as the woodlanders caught sight of the strange fox. The Samurai fox suddenly felt awkward and out of place, just as he did back at Lon's pagoda. As he looked around at the stunned beasts, Sandokhan noticed the coldest glare came from Mattimeo, who rose from his chair and left before the meal had even began. "It's alright Mr. Sandokhan, you can sit next to me," said Sister Stephanie as she lead the fox to his seat. Tess had risen from her seat about to follow her husband before Auma grabbed her elbow. "I'll talk to him, don't let your husband spoil your meal." Outside in Great Hall Mattimeo stood in front of the great Redwall tapestry, looking bleakly at the likeness of Martin the Warrior. He could hear heavy pawsteps behind him, he knew it was Auma. The badger opened her mouth about to speak, but Mattimeo got the first word in. "Don't Auma. Just don't," "To be honest, I don't even know where to begin. Why are you being very rude to our guest?" "Begging your pardon, but are you as blind as the rest of the beasts in this abbey? He's a fox!" "Is that it? Because he's a fox? That's no excuse to be acting the way you have been," "Slagar! Remember him? The harlequin fox who was going to sell us into slavery?" "Of course I remember!" Auma snapped. "I was there as well AND so was MY father!" "Now can you see where I'm coming from?" "No. Not all of his kind are like Slagar. I must say Matty, I'm very disappointed in you," Auma said, crossing her arms. "You know Auma you're starting to sound like my father," "Good, at least somebeast here's talking sense. Now, are you coming in for supper?" Mattimeo turned back to Martin's picture, "I don't want any supper. I just want to be alone." * "Some more strawberries and meadow cream, Mr. Sandokhan?" Asked Sister Stephanie as she passed a freshly piled bowl to the fox. However Sandokhan just brushed it aside, "No thank you, I couldn't eat another thing! That was a fantastic meal." "Glad you enjoyed it," replied Stephanie. "I apologise if I've offended your warrior," "Oh don't worry about Matty. He's just feels a bit, erm... uneasy around foxes. He was kidnapped by one. But it was a long time ago." "I doubt the story of my great grandfather will change his opinion," Sandokhan mused out loud. "Ah, Sandokhan," the fox looked up and saw Tim Churchmouse standing over their table. "Should we retire to the study? You cannot believe how many questions I have to ask you!" Sandokhan excused himself and bowed politely to Sister Stephanie. The mouse-maid simply returned a giggle and curtsied. The pair first went to the cellars where Jube and his sisters gave them a flagon of elderberry wine before heading for Tim's study. The first thing Sandokhan showed interest in was the sword, his sword. He clutched it close to himself as if embracing an old friend. "I wouldn't show much interest in that if I were you. The abbot will never allow the brandishing of weapons in Redwall," said Tim. "The abbot will never understand. Because he is not samurai," "Samurai?" Tim asked. "Translated into your tongue, a servant," "You mean as in serfdom to a master?" "Not quite. Our master only calls upon us to fight for glory in his name. Without our master, we samurai are lost and must take our own lives as an apology for our gross failure to serve him." Tim's eyes went wide, "you would willingly kill yourselves if your master was killed in battle?" "Not if he had a dying request. Then it is our duty to ensure we fulfil it," Sandokhan explained in a narrative posture. "The oldest legend from my land says that Jima was made by the sword. At the dawn of creation the gods dipped a ginormous sword into the sea. When they quenched the blade and pulled it out, three drops fell back into the waters. These drops became the islands of Jima." Tim grabbed paper and quill, "Not so fast! I want to write all this down. I feel with your knowledge I could write a book about it." Sandokhan chuckled as he propped the katana up against Tim's writing table, before pouring himself a beaker of wine. "The first journal seemed to start after some great event in your great grandfather's life. So what's his story?" Sandokhan took a long swig of wine before sitting opposite Tim and related the tale of his great grandfather. "My great grandfather was once a corsair. He served under the Master Corsair, Gabool the Wild. He was a mid-ship beast on his ship and the captain of that vessel was extremely ruthless indeed. After coming back to port at Terramort Isle my grandfather would join his shipmate Greypatch for a post-plunder drink. One day his ship had successfully plundered a vessel and stole a massive brazen bell..." "Ah! The Joseph bell," Tim interrupted mid sentence. "I don't really know much about that," Sandokhan replied shaking his head. "Pardon my interruption friend, please continue." "Well, after they bring the bell back to port Greypatch as usual was in the tavern with my grandfather and after several rounds Greypatch gets him into a discussion whether murdering and plundering is a good thing. Then Greypatch convinces my grandfather to resign from his position. So, very, very drunk, my grandfather goes to Gabool, tells him he quits, throws down his cutlass, pulls down his pantaloons and then moons him." "What happened to Greypatch?" "Spouted lies that my grandfather was a traitor to Gabools' cause and stays loyal to his master. In recognition for his loyalty Greypatch was promoted and given a command of his own. So my great grandfather was then beaten to within an inch of his life and then tied to some rocks in the bay, where high tide would do the rest. But the bonds snapped in the current and he was carried away. The next thing he remembers is waking up on some beach in Southsward. Then he gets the idea in his head that the sea spared him for a reason and decided to make something of his life. The citizens of Southsward of that time would never embrace a fox as one of their own so my grandfather picks a direction and travels on. It was on his travels to the eastern coast that he met my great grandmother, a vixen called Naga. Her plan was to follow him and then kill and rob him. However in time, something unexpected happened, the pair started to fancy each other and eventually fell in love. When they reached the eastern shoreline, my great grandfather joined a merchant ship bound for a principality in the western block of Osea..." "Osea?" Tim interrupted yet again. Sandokhan pulled a folded parchment from the second journal and spread it out on the table. Tim studied it with great interest, "Is this the world as we know it? This is invaluable!" "May I continue?" Tim returned a nod as Sandokhan continued. "After landing in Osea my great grandfather and Naga got married and then pressed on further east. They both travelled for many seasons before they reached Jima. A season after they arrived, Naga gave birth to my father's father and then my great grandfather died and from then on my family's been living there ever since. These journals are not just his memoirs, each generation thereafter have added their own volume. These books have been treasured much by my family." "That was a good story. I would like to hear yours one day," Tim said. "My story is still not over," the fox replied.