Pearls of Lutra by Brian Jacques
Durral lifted the warmed honey from the oven top, protecting his paws with a cloth. ‘You would say right, Teasel. I’ve been dreaming lately of having a good pocketful of nice sweet coltsfoot pastilles.’
During breakfast, the Abbot called Tansy to his side and whispered in the hogmaid’s ear, ‘I’m off into Mossflower today, collecting plants. How’d you like to come with me? It will be mild and sunny – we could take lunch with us. What do you say?’
Much to his surprise, Tansy refused the offer. ‘Thank you very much, Father Abbot, but maybe you’d like to give someone else a chance. Take poor Viola bankvole with you.’
The kindly old mouse was pleased, but perplexed. ‘Certainly, missie, but why Viola?’
‘Because I feel sorry for her and I think we should be friends. Last night Viola had bad dreams, so I put her in my bed at the sick bay. I thought I was helping her, but Sister Cicely came in during the night and made her drink a big bowl of warm nettle broth. Poor Viola, she’s sitting over there unable to touch any breakfast. See, she looks a funny colour to me.’
Abbot Durral looked up from his mint tea. ‘You’re quite right, Tansy, a walk in the woodlands and a picnic lunch will do your friend a power of good, I think. But what will you do with yourself all day?’
Tansy’s voice dropped to a secretive whisper. ‘I’ve got business with Martin and Rollo. We’ve a riddle to solve. Very important.’
The glorious spring morning rolled on into early noontide, with Redwall Abbey abuzz as creatures went about their chores and young ones played across the lawns. Skipper of Otters and his stalwarts patrolled the ramparts, striding along the high battlemented outer wall, ever alert for the slightest sign of invading gulls.
At the woodland’s edge on the north path, a mass of cow parsley, with white flowering buds, stirred, which was odd, because there was not the slightest breeze to move it. The corsair ferret Romsca popped her head up momentarily, before dropping back out of sight.
‘Last time I saw that place I was with Cap’n Conva an’ we was on the trail of ole Graylunk. That’s Redwall Abbey right enough!’
Despite the warmth of spring sunshine, Lask Frildur was still shivering from a cold night spent wandering through the damp woodlands. He was not in the best of tempers.
‘Why not raize your voize a bit louder zo they can hear you properly, addlebrain!’ he snarled, drawing a heavy cloak tight about his quaking body.
Romsca leaned towards him, her voice contemptuous. ‘Button yer lip, sloptongue. I’ll talk when an’ ’ow I like, see! Hah, it don’t matter if they ’ears us, the moment those Abbeycreatures catches sight of you they’ll be dumbstruck fer sure!’
Lask loosened the cloak and puffed out his throat airily. ‘You zpeak nonzenze, fool!’
Romsca snorted as if in despairing amusement. ‘Lissen to ’im, messmates; every time ’e opens that gob ’e treads on ’is tongue! Let me tell yer somethin’, Monitor, a fact you’n’the Emperor overlooked. Them Abbeybeasts can’t abide searats, corsairs an’ suchlike, so imagine ’ow they’ll take to the sight o’ you an’ ten other reptiles, great flesh-eatin’ lizards from the tropics beyond the sunset. Haharr, never thought o’ that, did yer? They ain’t never seen the likes o’ you before. Wot d’yer think they’re goin’ t’do, invite yer inside fer cakes’n’wine? Tchah! They’ll slam the gates tight in yore face, give those Monitors a volley of spears, an’ send the lot o’ ye packin’ up the road! Just like any right-minded creature would, I’ll take me oath on that, matey!’
Deflated, the Monitor General drew away with his ten remaining Monitors, and went deeper into the woodland where they could hold a conference. Romsca had left a guard of six vermin aboard Waveworm, but her corsairs were still three times the number of Lask’s force. They too drew back into the wood, but only to light a small fire on which they could cook their supplies, supplemented by whatever roots and fruits they had foraged from the countryside.
Rubby the cook held out a young turnip he had spitted and roasted on his cutlass blade. Romsca accepted it and lounged nonchalantly in the sunlight.
Rafglan the bosun joined her, munching a stalk of wild celery. ‘So, wot are y’goin’ t’do now, Cap’n?’ he said.
Romsca spat out a tough piece of turnip. ‘Do? I ain’t doin’ nothin’, matey. Ole scaleguts is in charge o’ the land party, let Lask do all the doin’.’
Rafglan cast a glance through the bushes. ‘Ahoy, ’ere comes ole Lask ’imself, looks like ’e wants to talk.’
The Monitor General dismissed Rafglan with a nod and seated himself next to Romsca, saying, ‘Perhapz what you zay iz right, my friend.’
Romsca flung the half-eaten turnip away and wiped her mouth. ‘Oho, friend, is it? You’ve changed yer tune, lizard. So tell me, what’s the plan?’
Abbot Durral sat on the bank of a small stream with Viola bankvole. They ate nutbread rolls and cheese, washed down with sips of old cider, for lunch. The Father Abbot kicked off his sandals and lowered his footpaws gingerly into the cold clear water with a long sigh. ‘Aaaaah, that is truly delightful. Nothing like streamwater for refreshing the footpaws. You should try it, Viola.’
The bankvole maid stared doubtfully at the gurgling stream. ‘But I don’t like getting my footpaws wet, Father, and besides, there’s no towels to dry them.’
Durral smiled benevolently at the prissy little creature. ‘Grass, soft moss or dead ferns are as good as any towel, Viola. Come on, you’ll never know what it’s like until you try it.’
Slipping off her sandals, the volemaid lowered her footpaws into the water. She shuddered, then giggled. ‘Heeheehee! It tickles and it’s cold, but you’re right, Father, it does feel good. I think I’ll stand up and have a paddle!’
Lussak and Fraddle, two of Lask Frildur’s Monitors, had been unsuccessfully trying to catch birds with a net. Finding the stream, the two lizards had followed its course, searching for a likely spot where fish might be found.
Fraddle suddenly held up a heavily scaled claw, saying, ‘Hearken, lizzen, I hear voizez!’
Crouching low, they wriggled silently forward. From behind a screen of hemlock and dropwort they watched two creatures clad in green habits, an old mouse and a young bankvole, prancing in the stream shallows, laughing and splashing.
Lussak’s dark tongue snaked out hungrily. ‘Food at lazzzzt!’ he breathed.
Fraddle’s claw shot out as Lussak started to creep forward. Seizing him tight by the loose jawflesh, he dragged until it threatened to tear. ‘No, theze will be prizonerz for General Lazk!’
Viola and the Abbot sat on the streambank, rubbing their footpaws in the sunwarmed grass.
‘Oh, Father Abbot, what fun! You were right when you said tha— Eeeeeek!’
The tough twine meshes of a ship’s net trapped them both. They were pulled backward and hauled up the bank. Terrified, wordless and stiff with fright, the old mouse and the young bankvole found themselves staring into the foul-breathed faces of two reptiles they could not have imagined in their worst nightmares.
‘Be ztill or be zlain!’
15
APART FROM A few helpers, the kitchens were quiet after lunch had been served. Martin and Rollo sat on grainsacks with Tansy, questioning her closely.
‘Are you sure you can remember no more of your dream, Tansy?’
‘I wish I could, Rollo, really I do! I can remember seeing Martin the Warrior of ancient times, and he said many things to me, though it all seemed so fuzzy this morning. It was something about searching and never giving up hope. Then more words about friendship and loyalty . . . Oh! and he mentioned about one day giving the Tears back to their true owner. I’m sorry, but today my mind doesn’t seem to be working properly. Oh dear, it makes me so irritable when I can’t remember exactly what he said!’
Martin said understandingly, ‘No matter, Tansy, all will become crystal clear when our Warrior’s spirit wishes it so. The main thing at this moment is to solve the riddle. Would you read it aga
Tansy unfolded the flimsy parchment scrap.
‘I think the relevant part is in these last four lines – listen:
‘Go, find my gift, good Friar,
This tear is given free,
Not hid away in secret,
But there for all to see!’
Rollo donned his glasses and stared at the rhyme, saying, ‘Fermald meant this for Friar Higgle, really. Don’t you think we should go to him and ask for his help?’
At that instant Foremole and Higgle emerged from the winecellar ramp, rolling a small cask of elderberry wine between them.
Foremole unbent and grunted, ‘Yurr, zurr ’iggle, us’ll take et o’er to ee corner thurr.’
Rollo called over from his perch on the grainsacks. ‘Friar Higgle, can you spare us a moment, please?’
Leaving Foremole to trundle the cask, Higgle came over, his homely face wreathed in a big smile. ‘Whew! We none o’ us’re as spry as we used t’be, friends; good job I got Foremole to ’elp me. Now, wot can I do to ’elp you?’
Skipper of Otters was a big, tough-looking beast. He turned on the walltop as one of his otter crew called across from the south ramparts. ‘Nary a sign of gulls again today, Skip!’
Skipper’s deep gruff voice rang back in reply. ‘Keep yore eyes peeled though, Glenner, we’ll give it another day or two yet; may’aps they’re watchin’ us from afar.’
As he took his eyes away from the cloudless blue noon sky, Skipper saw a ferret emerge from the woodland fringe. Everything about her, from the brass earhoops to the tattooed paws and ragged silks she wore, branded her as sea vermin.
She waved in a cheery fashion at the big otter. ‘Ahoy there, ruddertail, is this the place they call Redwall?’
Skipper became immediately alert. ‘What if it is, snipenose? What’s yore business ’ere?’
‘Oh, just some information. No need t’get offended.’
Skipper chuckled, amazed at the ferret’s impudence. ‘Bless yer ’ide, matey, I’m not offended at a corsair callin’ me ruddertail, though if’n I was down there now I’d give yer such a clout you’d land up in the middle o’ next season!’
Romsca laughed back, giving as good as she got. ‘Yer a big saucy beast, talkin’ all brave from up there. Why not come down ’ere an’ try yer luck, riverdog?’
Skipper wagged a hefty gnarled paw at her. ‘My ole mother never raised no fools, corsair. Where’s yer sword an’ daggers, lyin’ in the undergrowth with the rest o’ yer slimy crew? Now say yore say an’ begone, quick an’ sharpish!’
The hogwife Teasel arrived up on the walltop carrying a basket. ‘Good afternoon, mister Skipper. I brought up a snack for you an’ yore crew . . . Who’s that creature down there?’
Skipper peered into the basket, his face lighting up in appreciation. ‘Nothin’ to worry yore good ’ead about, marm; thankee for the vittles, though. Beg yore pardon whilst I deal with this villain.’ Immediately the Skipper of Otters became serious, whirling his sling until the thongs hummed. ‘Say yore piece, scum, or stand by to eat stone!’
Romsca spoke out smartly. ‘Where’s Graylunk? I wants ter speak with ’im!’
‘Yore wastin’ yore time, there ain’t no Graylunk ’ere!’
‘Arr, cummon, you c’n do better’n that. Either bring the weasel out or return wot ’e stole!’
Skipper and his crew were infrequent Abbeydwellers, living mainly in Mossflower’s woodlands and waters, and he had no idea what Romsca was talking about. And he was not a beast to stand arguing.
Whokk!
The slingstone bounced off a sycamore trunk a hairsbreadth from the corsair’s skull.
‘Next one goes down yore throat, vermin – now clear off!’
Romsca leapt behind the sycamore trunk, shouting, ‘We know you’ve got Graylunk in there, an’ the pearls. It’d be a lot easier on yer if you brought ’em out!’
Hogwife Teasel popped her head over the battlements, and cried, ‘Graylunk left ’ere seasons ago – they found ’is remains not two nights back in the woodland rocks, the red ones east of ’ere. Graylunk’s dead long ago, so be off with you!’
‘So you say. I’ll be back again at this time tomorrow!’ Romsca yelled.
When it was obvious Romsca had gone, Skipper chided Teasel gently. ‘You should’ve told that’n nothin’, marm. I’d advise you to find Martin an’ tell ’im all that ’appened.’
Back in the kitchens, Friar Higgle had been shown the rhyme and told all about the situation. He shrugged.
‘Alas, I know nothin’ about any gift; old Fermald never gave me nothin’ but smiles. I wish I could help you, but I can’t. A tear for all to see? That’s a real poser, friends. I must start bakin’ for supper now. You’ll ’ave to excuse me, but good luck to you.’
Feeling defeated, the three wandered about the kitchens on a futile search. Then Clecky ambled in, followed by Gerul. The mountain hare looked about hungrily.
‘I say, chaps, is it nearly teatime? I’m famished. Sorry, are you lookin’ for eatables too, wot?’
Rollo walked around Clecky, investigating the shelves behind him. ‘No, we’re not, you great famine-fetcher. We’re looking for a tear that is in plain view.’
Gerul blinked several times, shifting from one talon to another. ‘Ah well now, if me good friend Clecky here doesn’t get sumthin’ to devour soon, no doubt you’ll see plenty of tears in plain view, sirs, an’ you too, miss. Ould Clecky here can blubber up a storm if the food isn’t forthcomin’, indeed he can!’
Tansy fidgeted with her apron restlessly. ‘Oh bother! How can you hide something and yet leave it in plain view? It doesn’t make sense!’
Friar Higgle looked up from the rhubarb crumble he was making. ‘Aye, ’specially when you don’t know what it is you look for!’
Clecky knew what he was looking for. The hungry hare had spotted a box of candied chestnuts on a far corner shelf. He sidled slowly over and tried to snatch some of the delicious sweets. Unfortunately there was a huge ornate wooden candlestick standing between Clecky and the shelf. The immense candle it held was lit only once every four seasons, at the first summer feast. Wax had melted upon wax over the seasons, crusting the top of the carved holder. Clecky stood with his back against the candle, trying to appear as though he were doing nothing. However, behind him his paws were working furiously. With one paw around each side of the candlestick, he grappled and grabbed furiously, trying to reach the box standing on the shelf behind the giant candle. As Tansy and her friends wandered about searching, Friar Higgle became alerted by the scrabbling noises. He looked directly at Clecky.
‘What are you doin’ over there, sir?’
The hare stood with both paws searching madly behind his back for the box as he tried to stand still, smiling casually. ‘What, er, who, me? Er, ahaha, old feller, nothin’ at all, nice an’ snug in this corner, doncha think, wot wot?’
The Friar advanced on him, shaking a ladle threateningly. ‘Yore up to some prank, I know it! Now get out o’ my kitchen; tea’ll be ready when I’ve made it!’ He grabbed hold of Clecky’s tunic and pulled sharply. ‘Come on, out I said!’
But the hare had hold of the box in both paws and was unwilling to let go. He tottered forward and overbalanced, shouting indignantly, ‘I say, leggo, y’ great foozlin’ Friar! Yaaaahah!’
Higgle dodged to one side as the hare fell, bringing the candlestick crashing down to the floor with him. Candied chestnuts from the fractured box rolled around the kitchen floorstones. Martin and Higgle helped Clecky up. The Friar was furious.
‘Now lookit what you done, an’ all through sheer greed for a few chestnuts. The great summer candle is broke, snapped clean in two pieces! You’ll pay for this, sir ten-bellies!’
Rollo, Tansy and Gerul were gathering up the spilled nuts. Tansy could not help grinning as she nudged the old Recorder. ‘Rollo, shame on you, don’t eat them, put them back in the box. Really, a vole of your seasons pinching candied chestnut
By accident, she had trodden on a lump of the congealed candlewax, which had broken from the holder in its fall.
As the candlewax broke under Tansy’s paw, a large pink globe rolled out across the floor.
Martin stared at it in wonder. ‘A pearl,’ he whispered. ‘A perfect pink pearl.’
‘So that was it,’ said Rollo. ‘Hidden in plain view! Fermald pushed the pearl into the molten wax and it set around it. Clever!’
Rollo sat flat upon the floor, watching Tansy breaking up the rest of the hardened wax globules. ‘Tears, the Tears of all Oceans – we’re hunting for pearls! Why didn’t I think of it before? The most precious thing to come out of the great waters; though I’ve never heard them referred to as tears of oceans before. What a charming description! Tansy, you’re making a dreadful mess breaking up all that wax over the floor. What are you doing?’
The young hedgehog maid produced a greasy ball of rolled-up paper, the same size as the pearl, from among the wax pieces.
‘Hah! I found it, the clue to the second pearl!’ she cried.
Clecky tried to look as if he was not chewing three chestnuts as he swaggered about dusting himself down. ‘Mmmff snch! Knew I’d be able to help you chaps, mmf glupp! Takes an eagle eye an’ a sharp brain t’hunt the jolly old pearls y’know, gronnff snch! No need to thank me, all in a day’s work, wot? Youch!’
Friar Higgle’s ladle caught him smartly on the tail, and he fled from the kitchens, yelling amid the laughter that followed him, ‘Base ingratitude. Yowp! Desist, sir, I say. Owch!’
16
OF ALL THE seagoing vermin frequenting Sampetra, Rasconza was the only fox. He was bosun to Slashback, searat captain of the ship Bloodkeel. Rasconza was tough, ambitious and smart; after the captains’ revolt he had appointed himself leader of the rebel crews roaming the island’s high hills.