Thomas| Epilogue(s)

The boy smiled. He liked the Holy One and thought he looked very wise and serious, even if he was a fieldmouse. 

Aufwader’s Thoughts:  Yes, this book gets a special epilogue post, because it has not one, but two of the things, and oh boy do they deserve their own write-up.

As if the finale in the Black Temple and the heart-rending (to some) conclusion to Thomas and Woodget’s voyage across the globe were not enough of an emotional roller-coaster, we now learn that not only will Thomas live out his life believing that he murdered his best friend and turn to drink as a result, but that Woodget himself will have a sort of semi-existence as the Sadhu of a ruined Hara, with no memory of who he once was. If this book’s beginning is ‘gleefully bitter’, then its end is gleefully miserable. This has to be one of the most depressing endings in all of Robin Jarvis canon, and I love it to bits.

So, what about that, Robin? You wrote in the notes for this book that we ‘haven’t seen the last of Simoon’ and that you didn’t think it was right for Thomas to end his days in suffering.  If it is Woodget’s destiny to someday remember everything and for he and Thomas to be reunited just as Thomas takes a death wound so that Thomas believes Woodget to be only a vision of his dying mind, then happily I will read it and cry along with everybody else.

As it is, though, no suffering can be greater than having one’s beloved cruelly shoved off a mountain and one’s lizardy kin thoroughly crushed before one’s eyes, so I’m content to let Mr Triton sob into his rum for the time being. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have an appointment in a secret room above the Lotus Parlour.

 

Matt’s Thoughts:  Sixteen chapters and two epilogues! What can I say?

Actually, what I can say is that this ending has such a level of ambiguity about it, that I do wonder how younger readers made sense of it. (I only ever read it when I was in my 30s, so I don’t have the experience of knowing what it would have been like as a young adult.)

It’s the questions that I find haunting. First of all, the one that Thomas himself articulated: were the Green Council really above-board in their actions? Was there really no other way to defeat Sarpedon then to let hundreds of innocents be slaughtered as the Scale ravaged back the pieces of the egg? And given that it was a gamble whether that would even work, was it really the only thing that could have happened? I’m not sure on the answers to that question, but even if Jophet and the Holy One are now seen to be playing a long game, it does seem like awfully high stakes.

And then there’s those couple of paragraphs in the second epilogue where Gwen looks in despair at Thomas – he hasn’t written anything down, he hasn’t ‘made peace with the past’. There’s no guarantee he won’t stay alcoholic and haunted forever.

About the only slight ray of hope is that we instinctively feel that Woodget has a beauty of soul that makes him perfect for the role of the next Sadhu. But even that is tinged with melancholy, because it means Thomas (and Bess, for that matter) never realised that he survived. I think I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: it’s not a British children’s story until evil has been defeated, but everyone is still unhappy.

I think I need a soothing cup of tea and a long walk after this one. (Which is all to say, I loved it.)

 

Thomas | Chapter 16

‘Too long has His Dark Majesty been banished from the waking world. Too long have our enemies denied us the means for His deliverance. But now the hour is upon us. Sarpedon will rear amongst us again – the eternal night has come at last!’

Aufwader’s Thought’s: Mighty Sarpedon, Lord of the Star-bright Heavens, I dedicate my half of this post to You. Many times have I, a humble disciple, traversed the slightly faded pages of my Hodder Silver edition in pilgrimage to Your temple, and many times have I read in tearful devotion the chronicle of Your glorious return, and the tragedy of Your downfall at the hands of two accursed unpledged mice and a has-been jerboa.

Would that this, the final instalment of the Deptford Histories in which You play such a vital role, had ended differently. Would that the efforts of the Green Council had been in vain, and You returned to the world in complete and holy magnificence, heralded by Your High Priest and all of Your beloved subjects. Much would I have given to witness that most longed-for and blessed occasion, though I be squashed at the back with a sozzled lemur’s elbow in my face and a pillar blocking half the view. Happily would I have shed my mortality with everyone else and ascended unto lizardy perfection.

Alas, that is not how the tale ends, and this devout Scalian must remain cold-blooded in spirit only. Though Your subjects be shunned and the Black Temple cast down, as long as there are readers to fear You, the poisonous flame of Your reign can never be extinguished.

Besides, as this project has seen, lesser beings than You have unlocked the gates of death to trouble once more the unhappy land, and we all know that has-been jerboas aren’t always right about everything. I believe in You, O Sovereign of Darkness, and will go on telling all these unpledged heathens about you until one of them takes pity and peels me to shut me up.

 

Matt’s Thought’s: Obviously, the finale with Sarpedon has all the great twists and turns – he’s coming back, then it’s a bad egg (love that twist!), then he’s a giant statue, then the High Priest is still alive. It’s just relentless. (I also love that Sarpedon is defeated by Thomas’ nautical skills, which is an awesome finale to the piece.)

Thomas | Chapter 15

‘You no need teller of fortunes – Mother Lotus, she know what Lady Fate has is store for you.’ 

Aufwader’s Thought’s:  A quick scene change, and we arrive at the dingy dockyard dive that is the Lotus Parlour. (Or, if you’re a forktail, a pleasant and welcoming establishment where one might partake of the house vintage and meet with one’s jewel-encrusted, serpent-worshipping cronies in relative privacy.)

Personally I really enjoy the way we’re introduced to the Scale’s home turf – it’s implied that ol’ Ma Skillet has a gold-lacquered finger in every Singapore smuggler’s pie, and runs her bar something like a gangster’s speakeasy with added occult flair. I especially appreciate the notion that she has been in that job for several decades and is so bored with it that she has descended into hypnotising unsuspecting patrons for laughs to ease the monotony. Sure, evil’s fun at the weekends, but on a slow Tuesday you still have to mop the floors and polish the bar-top.

Or, as it happens, get a well-known and beloved side character in the backstory phase of her life to do it for you. Why hello, Madame Akkikuyu! We missed you!

The little origin-scene with Kiku really does make a perfect bookend. In The Dark Portal, Morgan and Madame Akkikuyu were the first villains we met aside from Jupiter, and in this, the backstory to end all backstories, we get a perfectly-mirrored look into how they came to be spitting insults at each other in 1990s Deptford. Readers, which origin story do you prefer, Morgan’s, or Kiku’s? Personally, I like them both.

As if Thomas and Woodget turning up and getting caught were not enough, Simoon has to poke his nose in and start causing a ruckus. But it’s all to the good (or rather, bad) for if he hadn’t, we would never have had another fantastic scene with the High Priest. While he trounces Simoon and has a heart-to-heart with Mother Lotus about the Black Sovereign’s return being imminent, I can almost forget my heartbreak over the events of last chapter. Almost.

 

Matt’s Thoughts:  How do I not remember this either? A backstory for Madame Akkikuyu thrown in for good measure!

But what struck me the most was the bitter irony that, as well as some good old hocus-pocus on Ma Skillet’s part, it is alcohol that undoes Thomas in this moment – which, of course, comes at just the right time in the story to remind all of us that everything that’s happening is essentially a horrible memory being replayed in Thomas’ alcohol-fuelled mind in the present day. It’s tragic, horrific. And, hey, with a Black Temple about to be revealed, a little bit Indiana Jones as well.

 

Thomas | Chapter 14

‘So be it’, he swore. ‘The blade of Hara against the teeth of Sarpedon. May the venom bite you slowly.’

Aufwader’s Thoughts: If you’re wondering what that pitiful and heart-wrenching sound is, it’s me sobbing inconsolably into my snake-embroidered handkerchief. Just give me a minute. Okay. I think I can manage a few words.

This chapter puts everybody through the wringer. If you’re Green-inclined, you’ve got the fall of brave Captain Chattan, some strong bonding moments for Thomas and Woodget, the final doom of Hara, and the uncertain fate of the fragments. If you’re a cultist, you alternately cheer and wince as the Scale’s fortunes rise and fall. If you’re me, you get to a certain point and have to stop reading so you don’t ruin your lovely first edition with tears of abject sorrow.

A lizard, though! A beautiful, terrible, magnificent reptile-demon! All right so he’s not described very flatteringly but that means nothing because Dahrem Ruhar is my cold-blooded, cold-hearted beloved and at least he gets to shine a little before he is cruelly torn from my arms.

Admit it, not a word rolls off his forked tongue that isn’t absolutely searing. If I were Chattan I wouldn’t even bother with a sword, I’d just chuck my red cape over my face and wait for the end. My personal favourite is immortalised in the quote for this post, but the taunts about vipers garlanding the walls of Hara, and that stinging line about the Green’s paradise choked with weeds, are definitely up there. When the Captain finally collapses in a froth of black blood you think that’s it, but no, there’s still that speech. Oh lordy, that speech. There’s nothing I can say. Please just bask in it. Imagine it in film form, or on audiobook, as it was tragically omitted from the tapes.

Of course, in the sorry tradition of all Robiny villains before him, Dahrem’s moment of glory is short-lived. Those of you who hold Piccadilly high in your affections will perhaps sympathise a little as my poor, defeated darling dies alone in a strange place, clutching something golden and precious, his empty eyes turned heavenward. He’ll live forever in my heart and in the pages of this chapter, for as the saying goes, love (and Sarpedon) conquer all.

Matt’s Thoughts: While the cover of the silver-spined edition of Thomas is undeniably more dramatic, I must admit, there’s part of me that likes that moment of horror that greeted readers of the first edition of Thomas when they discovered that Dimmy was not just an evil mouse but he was a freaking evil reptile as well. It’s a phenomenal moment. In fact, it reminds me very much of the finale of the David Cronenberg version of The Fly, for anyone who has seen that. (I won’t go posting YouTube videos of movies with an 18 rating on this blog, but for those of you over that age, you might enjoy the similarities. And, Aufwader, it was also meant to be a bit sad as well, so you might appreciate it.)

It’s such a heady mix – body horror, action and rodents.

But … most freaky thing of all, it’s chapter 14, when we expect everything to be wrapped up and instead there are two more chapters to go! Oh no! What more could happen to Thomas and Woodget?

Thomas | Chapter 13

‘The Scale are here, the Scale are here! Awake, folk of Hara! The hour we have long dreaded is upon us! We must fight!’

Aufwader’s Thoughts: As The Oaken Throne attests, Mr Jarvis knows his grand and glorious fantasy battles, and he knows how do to them well. To be honest though I feel like the siege of Hara is that much more vicious than the clash of the bats and squirrels (or even bats and squirrels against Hobbers) because even though it was planned by both sides in advance, it feels sudden and brutal. The city’s best warriors are out cold, the stakes are high with not one but two fragments for the taking, and the Sadhu, Hara’s beloved Holy One, has condemned his innocent citizens to cruel and venomous death at the lethal claws of the Scale.

That said, siege of Hara is yet another reason why this is my favourite Robin Jarvis book. We’ve got the thunder and lightning and hammering rain, we’ve got drums in the night (as referenced by Thomas in The Dark Portal), we’ve got the Scale’s glinty, gilded warship named after the many-headed serpent of the Bhāgavata Purāṇ. The High Priest of Sarpedon the Mighty gets to make a characteristically theatrical entrance, our mousey heroes bravely do their best, and Sohban comes out of the Giri home wielding an honest-to-goodness sword. (On that note who else blooming loves Sobhan? What a great character, for all she gets so little page-time.)

Then, as if that weren’t enough to keep us as hypnotised as that hapless sea-snake from Chapter 11, Robin decides to chuck a few crocodiles into the mix and kill off poor Karim! Though I’m inclined to cheer for the Scale in this chapter as in all others, I have to say that Karim’s valiant and tragic demise did hit me quite hard, especially as we get that brief scene beforehand of Chattan telling him, ‘In the Green hereafter may your place be set high,’ in the same tone as funerary rites. Just so, Captain. Just so.

Matt’s Thoughts: Noble sacrifice. Crocodiles. Trusting the wrong person. There’s so much going on at an action level, that we almost miss the birth of Thomas Triton, the fearsome warrior that we’ll see defending the Cutty Sark in The Final Reckoning. Love a good origin story!

Thomas | Chapter 12

As a pale, crouching phantom he appeared; a colourless, shrunken spectre that patiently sat through the endless passage of time, growing old with the mountain and wasting with the world.

Aufwader’s Thoughts: Holy One? More like Wily One. That decrepit loris has more tricks up his figurative sleeve than the Starwife and Simoon combined. Even I wouldn’t trust him as far as he could walk without a stick, and as it is heavily implied, it should be the likes of me doing the trusting. The ol’ Sadhu seems to have heard a call other than the Green’s, if that little scene with Jophet is anything to go by.

Speaking of the Green, I was highly disgruntled to reread the part where Woodget has his little holy vision and discover that a certain theory I came up with during The Crystal Prison has been scuppered. After some thought, however, I decided that it could be amended rather than discarded completely, but I’ll talk about it when we’re finished this book because I don’t want to be peeled for spoiling twice in as many days.

 

Matt’s Thoughts: Phenomenal chapter. I think the Holy One is possibly my favourite of the Jarvis ‘wise’ characters so far. (Except maybe the Starwife, who will always be all-round awesome; but then she has a much bigger role and we know a lot more about her.)

How did a loris come to spend his time meditating up in the top of a massive statue? Again, so much mythology, so little back story!

Jophet is an interesting character. To be honest, I had forgotten about him, because he seemed more of a ‘red herring’ to take our focus off the sinister nature of Dimlon. But clearly he has his own sinister part to play in the proceedings as well. I am looking forward to how that one plays out.

And as for the scene with Woodget and the Green – well, that’s just another case of making the oncoming tragedy more poignant, isn’t it? By which I mean, it worked perfectly on me and I’m getting that feeling of oncoming dread.

Thomas | Chapter 11

‘What a place,’ was all he could find to say. 

Aufwader’s Thoughts:   This is where things get a bit awkward for me, because even as I hiss in the faces of Hara’s forces and sneer at their city, I have to admit that it is a very pretty city. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see its fair streets run with blood and all that good stuff, but there’s no slithering away from the bald truth that Hara is a truly fabulous setting. Even, dare I say it, one of Robin’s best.

This Gondolin of the Deptford Histories is a fascinating look at how the worshippers of the Green do their goody-goody thing in other parts of the world. Here at Myth & Sacrifice we all love the original Deptford Mice Trilogy, and I hazard that we were interested enough in the mousebrass-toting denizens of London and surrounding areas that we didn’t give much thought to wider Green Mouser culture during the reread of those books.

Far though it might seem from Audrey’s world, Hara is the stronghold which anchors the past to the present in the Deptford universe, and, though to say too much about this would be to commit the peelable offence of cross-book spoiling, to the future. (Stay tuned for part two of this point when we get to the Almanack next year.)

Like Greenwich, Hara has crouched on its hill through long and weary years, guarding its esotericisms close and presided over by an ancient and powerful ruler. It is connected to the present through Thomas, who, as we are wryly aware, plays a large role in The Deptford Mice. To join it up with the past, we need only contemplate the notion that this age-old city of the Green was probably up and running long before the first squirrel annoyed the first bat (or vice versa) and the wars that ended in Ysabelle’s time, began. What a place, indeed!

 

Matt’s Thoughts:  I also agree that this is possibly one of the greatest Jarvis settings ever. Completely fictional, and thus awesome. Also, I can’t help but wonder – where is the city of Hara actually located? Not what country it’s in, but physically located in that country. For instance, we know the Deptford Mice live in empty houses, we know the Greenwich squirrels live under the ground. So you can imagine all these places actually existing.

But an entire city with a massive statue of the Green Mouse towering over it? Is it built deep in the jungle somewhere where no human ever sees it? Does the same magical mist that protects the ships of Hara from being seen by evil eyes also protect them from human eyes?

I don’t even want to overthink it too much anyway, because regardless of how it works, the city is just a brilliant concept overall and another layer to the mythology of the Green.

 

Thomas | Chapter 10

‘Know now the truth of Suruth Scarophion. He whom we in Hara name Gorscarrigern – the Coiled One.’ 

Aufwader’s Thoughts: I spoke a little about settings in Chapter 4, but I want to add to that a bit by saying that in that little corner of Crete, strewn with shipwrecked corpses and acrid with the reek of despoiling fires, Mr Jarvis has really excelled himself. The Shrine of Virbius and its environs are vivid and multi-layered enough to host an entire novel, and the drama which unfolds upon its shores in the brief time we spend there is certainly enough to fill one.

There is the shrine itself; ancient, crumbling, now despoiled for good. There are the groves and grasses sloping down to the sands, upon which the twin tragedies of Neltemi, last of the Twelve Maidens, and Mulligan, last of his line, are enacted. Then there’s the shore itself, already a place of death, into which the bearers of the book’s second act march with silver helms and grim intent. What a place, what a stage, and what a well-orchestrated transition into the next part of Thomas and Woodget’s quest.

Behold noble Captain Chattan, ten times the warrior that Fenlyn Purfote ever was, a paragon of grace and righteousness. As a character, he’s impeccable – strong but gentle, brave but compassionate, endearingly rash in his endeavours to get at those pesky forktails. He is Rikki-Tikki-Tavi in armour, a friend to all who abhor the Serpent’s brood, and Sarpy help me but I really like him. Who wouldn’t? Look at that red cape, and those adorable little mask markings around his eyes! If nothing else, he’s a foe I’d be pleased to face in battle, should the occasion ever arise. Karim is equally worthy, but I’ll get to him later on.

Of course, the greatest joy for me in this chapter is that my darling snookums is so far evading discovery. I’d pray to the Dark Despoiler to keep him safe, but I daresay they’re both too interested in what the fragments are doing to take any notice.

 

Matt’s Thoughts: I’m in a rush to catch up on my Thomas reading, so forgive me if my contributions for the rest of the book are somewhat shorter than my esteemed Scottish colleague. 

So all I’ll say on this chapter is: Mongooses. Genius, genius Jarvis character invention. Because of course, as Aufwader has mentioned with her Kipling reference above, if you wanted rodent-like creatures from India as hero characters, what other type of animal would they be?

Thomas | Chapter 9

So perished Mulligan, the last of his line, and penultimate custodian of the ninth fragment. 

Aufwader’s Thoughts: I loved the scene with Woodget and Zenna so much that it was the first drawing I ever posted on Silvering Sea. The mermouse and her shadowy realm suggest, but never explain, some fundamental things about the Deptford universe. Though I said earlier that I don’t really want to know anything more about the sea-daughters, those ‘nameless spirits and cloistered intellects’ of the deep dark oceans are definitely something to mull over.

Of course, what everyone really remembers about this chapter is Mulligan’s grisly demise. I will happily clutch my pearls with the rest of you over any number of distressing Robiny deaths. Piccadilly? Ouch! Oswald? Get me a hanky to mop my tears! Dab? Vesper? Tysle? Squirrels in the Ring of Banbha? Dreadful, awful, horrific, don’t even talk about it!

Almost any manner of morbidly-imagined exit can make me wince in the right circumstances, but the black blood of Sarpedon runs in my veins, and I’m sorry everybody but however much I like Mulligan, I honour the Dark Despoiler more. Take that, Green Council! Take that, goody-two-shoes wholetails! May your paltry endeavours crumble before your eyes!

On a more wholesome note, bless Woodget in this chapter. Look at him, being all stoic and getting on with things despite that he’s just been in an honest-to-goodness shipwreck and almost drowned. His character journey is similar to Vesper’s in some ways, in that he slowly loses his naiveté as a result of the suffering he endures. It’s heart-rending to read, even for a jaded old reptile such as I. Fare you well, Master Pipple. May you come out of this chapter’s cliffhanger with your fluffy little head still attached to your shoulders.

Matt’s Thoughts: What a dark and devious co-blogger I have …

But I must admit, was there any precedent anywhere in the realms of anthropomorphic animal tales for inserting this sort of body horror? I feel with the original Mice trilogy that the violence was visceral but within enough bounds that it could possibly become an animated film (albeit of a darker shade).

However, by the time you get to Thomas, I feel like Mr Jarvis had worked out his readers’ limits and how far he could go – and then just goes there. It’s violent, it’s high stakes, it reels us right in. Someone like Nathaniel Crozier might well be one of the darkest villains, but the Scale have a love of violence and suffering that puts them in a class of their own as Jarvis villains.

Anyway, I can’t natter when we’ve got a chapter ending like that hanging over our heads (gag intended). Onwards!

Thomas | Chapter 8

Night bright stars from out the void, shining up on high. 

Aufwader’s Thoughts: I did not enter the forktail fold for reasons of romance – I am one of the Scale out of devotion to Him Wot Kips Up In Them There Bright n’ Sparkly Heavens, and proud I am of my constancy in that regard. However, perhaps by chance or perhaps because the Dark Despoiler watches over His own, romance found me but a few short chapters after my rapturous conversion.

Permit me a soppy sigh at the mention of Dahrem Ruhar; love of my life, holder of my heart, my chevalier in shining talons. He to whom I was solemnly wed in the sight of Sarpedon the Mighty, and to whom I pledged an everlasting vow second only to that which we both swore to our terrible and most majestic Lord.

If any of you are still reading at this point (and frankly I wouldn’t blame you for skipping down to Matt’s section in double quick time) you may be wondering what in the very name of the nine stars I could possibly see in a snizzly little whippet of a mouse with the world’s most irritating disguise. I admit, his real voice is partly to blame, but let’s just say that there’s more to this vile villain than meets the eye.

 

Matt’s Thoughts: I know my blogging colleague has a great love of all things Scale but I will be honest – this chapter got under my skin a bit more than I expected. Obviously, I think a lot of us saw Dimlon coming from a while back. But I think this chapter gets to me because, even six or seven years ago when I read this book, things like ritual beheadings and bloodthirsty cults were mostly a thing of fantastic fiction. There was a certain distance to it.

Whereas, nowadays, I feel like we live in bleaker times, where that line between fact and fiction is not so clearly defined. And so I find the Scale just that bit more dark and dangerous relative to other Jarvis villains. (Except perhaps for the characters in the Dancing Jax series, but we’ll talk about them next year.)

But then, by the same token, I think the reason I have been drawn again to Robin Jarvis books in my late 30s is because he does tackle the issue of evil head-on. The world does contain people and groups who sometimes do act in cruel ways – and even if we don’t encounter people who are that bad, we all have to deal with the fact that life throws us curve-balls a lot of the time.

The question is: are we going to be brave? Are we going to stand up, even at great cost to ourselves and do the right thing? And this chapter, with the brave final actions of Mulligan and Neltemi, is a terrific example of that noble sacrifice element that runs through his stories and thrills all his fans.