Pearls of Lutra by Brian Jacques
Snipping through the binding she began reeling it off, her voice sounding more excited as she twirled the rod in her paws. ‘Hahah! I had a feeling we would find something, and I was right! Look, there’s a piece of paper underneath this binding!’
Thin parchment showed clearly. Piknim caught the flax, tugging it as Tansy twirled the rod swiftly, and the yellowed slip floated to the floor. As it landed, they could all see two words written large on the back: ‘Well done.’
The four friends sat on the floor as Tansy turned the parchment over and began to read Fermald’s clues to the fourth pearl.
27
SKIPPER AND GERUL ate hungrily, slopping down elderberry and rosehip cordial between mouthfuls of leek pastie and hazelnut cheese. Sister Cicely and Brother Dormal the herbalist worked diligently, cleaning and binding their dirt-encrusted wounds. The otter Chieftain had told their story to the Redwallers who crowded into the kitchen. Some of them shook their heads in disbelief at the narrative.
‘Great seasons, Skipper slew one o’ those awful lizards?’
‘He ain’t a Skipper of otters for nothin’, that’n’s tough!’
‘Look at that scar down Skip’s side!’
Skipper chuckled and patted Gerul. ‘You should’ve seen me ole mate ’ere. He gave ’em what for!’
Gerul lowered his head, modestly picking crumbs from his feathered chest. ‘Ah, ’twas nothin’, sir, as me ould mother used t’say, leave yer enemies like a plate after a good feed, well licked!’
Auma brought a pail of warm water infused with herbs for the pair to bathe weary paws and talons in. ‘Would it do any good to raise a force and follow Martin?’ she asked. ‘He and the hare may be in sore need of help if they’re still trying to rescue Viola and the Abbot. What d’you think, Skipper?’
The otter winced as Sister Cicely snipped away fur from a wound. ‘I don’t think Martin’d want Redwallers roamin’ the country lookin’ fer ’im, marm. I’ll send a score of my otters – they’ll make it down t’the sea followin’ the streams.’
Brother Dormal inspected Gerul’s damaged wing gingerly. ‘I think your flying days may well be over, friend,’ he said.
The owl was about to shrug, but thought better of it. ‘Ah well, not t’worry, sir, flyin’s not everythin’, y’know. Sure I’ll get about just grand on me stout talons, like me ould mother used t’say, walkin’s good as wingin’ whenever it’s wet!’
Friar Higgle placed a platter of fruit tarts between Gerul and Skipper. ‘At least it hasn’t affected your appetite.’
Standing on a bench next to an old stone sink, three apron-clad Dibbuns scoured away at breakfast platters and pots. Arven glanced across to where Gerul and Skipper were being fussed over and fed. The little squirrel nudged his mole companions.
‘Tchah! Looka them, they runned away an’ cummed back all muckied up an’ everybeasts be’s nice to ’em, but wot ’appen to us’ns? We on’y went missin’ a likkle time an’ didden get filfy like tha’.’
The molebabe Diggum scrubbed away halfheartedly at a pot with a wedge of soft sandstone. ’Ee be roight, mate, we’m be scolded an’ put t’work, hurr, but theybeasts be treated vurry noice, et bain’t furr!’
Gurrbowl pulled an oatmeal-crusted bowl from the sink. ‘Burr aye, may’ap if us’ns stayed away longer an’ cummed back lots dustier, we’m be treated gudd an’ get noice vittles.’
Arven clenched a chubby paw resolutely. ‘Me make a plan! Nex’ time us’ns be lotsa brave, runaway inna woodlan’s, take big bagga foods an’ weppins, we fight alla badbeasts. Hah! we come back very very muck filfy, mud splatty, yurk! Then they be much gladda t’see us!’
Tansy’s voice echoed round the attic as she read Fermald the Ancient’s message. It was very complicated, but the four intrepid searchers expected no less.
‘My fourth tear I shed,
For the Abbey Redwall,
Laid where it never
Should hatch or fall.
Below the mouth of a mouse looking south,
All in a deserted dewlling.
So sit o’er the maidenhair, gaze up north,
And solve what my next words are telling.
Put a home with our Abbey Warrior,
North East South at the start,
Then to complete this riddle,
Add the last thing in “my heart”.’
Tansy shook her head despairingly. ‘Well, I’ve seen some riddles in my time, but this one’s a beauty. It’s about as clear as a swamp-covered frog. Still, we won’t solve it sitting round here.’ She jumped up and led the way down the spiral staircase. ‘Let’s have lunch and spend all afternoon and evening on the puzzle.’
By midday it was hot, and the grass was curling and dry, as if spring mists and rains were long gone. Friar Higgle had set up a buffet table in the orchard, and now he sat in the shade of a spreading damson tree with Auma and some Redwall elders. The Friar gazed up at the thick white masses of flowers crowding the boughs overhead and recited a season poem.
‘When the damson tree’s crowned white,
And wild pear blooms also,
I thank the season for this sight,
That lets good creatures know,
Summer is come to shed its gold,
Warm days grow long as holm oak flow’rs
The bees hum songs they learned of old,
To shorten night’s long hours.
For spring is fled and summer’s come,
Gather its blossoms and bring me some.’
Rollo nodded appreciatively as he nibbled busily at the edges of a raspberry and apple turnover. ‘That’s a nice poem, Higgle. I’ve never heard it before. Did you write it yourself?’
The Friar took a deep draught of his October Ale. ‘Bless yer, no, Rollo, I couldn’t write verses t’save me spikes! ‘Twas Brother Dormal taught it t’me, he knows all about poems an’ seasons an’ growin’ things, ole Dormal’s a right clever ’un!’
Dormal lowered his eyes modestly, blinking away a white blossom that had fallen on his eyelid. ‘It’s nothin’ really, the verses write themselves in my head.’
Rollo licked raspberry juice from his chin. ‘But none knows more than you about growing things, right?’
Dormal was a shy old mouse; he shrugged lightly. ‘I suppose so. I love the things that grow as much as I like to write poetry. Why d’you ask?’
‘Because I would like to know if we have maidenhair growing anywhere within Redwall.’
‘You mean spleenwort,’ Dormal corrected.
The Recorder shook his head. ‘No, I mean maidenhair!’
Dormal warmed to his favourite subject. ‘The correct name is spleenwort, though it is also commonly known as maidenhair. It’s a wall-growin’ fern. Hmm, we do have some growin’ wild somewheres, now let me think . . .’
Rollo was about to urge the old mouse to hurry his memory up, when Dormal nodded knowingly, and said, ‘On the inside o’ the south wall, slap bang in the middle, about halfway up. I culled some for Sister Cicely last autumn. But why d’you want to know about spleenwort, Rollo?’
Dormal found himself speaking to thin air. Rollo had left.
Tansy, Piknim and Craklyn sat on the upturned wheelbarrow, giggling as they tried to protect their lunch against Skipper and Gerul, whose injuries seemed to have increased their insatiable appetites. Winking both eyes at the three Abbeymaids, the owl allowed his talons to rove perilously close to their food.
‘Ah now, what would three slender young beauties like yerselves want with stodgy hazelnut pudden, ’twill only make fatbeasts of ye, missies. My ould mother always used t’say, if yer not fat there’s a slim chance some creature’ll fall in love with ye, so she did, an’ herself as thin as a beanpole an’ greatly loved by all, so she was!’
Tansy pulled the pudding out of his reach. ‘Tut tut, mister Gerul, your mother couldn’t have loved you much, you great butterbarrel. Hahahaha!’
Skipper agreed with her, swiping a couple of blackberry muffins as
‘Hah! Look who’s talking, old famine-tummy himself!’ said Craklyn, then she neatly caught one of the muffins as it was halfway to the otter’s mouth and tossed it to Piknim.
Gerul intercepted the muffin, and before Piknim could stop him he had crammed half of it into his beak. ‘True words, miss, true words, I’d sooner keep Skipper in vittles for a day than a season, so I would!’
Rollo strode busily up and tapped his paws on the wheelbarrow. ‘No time for fooling about, friends – I’ve just made an important discovery. Follow me and forget lunch!’
Before they could argue he had ushered them off in the direction of the south Abbey wall. Gerul watched them go, dividing the hazelnut pudding in two with a spoon. ‘T’be sure, there’s somethin’ heroic about a vole who won’t let vittles keep him from his duty. That’n will be voted Abbot one day, Skip, you mark me words. Rollo the Righteous they’ll call him, so they will!’
Maidenhair spleenwort grew spiderlike from the cracks in the stonework of the high south wall. Fronds of different lengths spread in all directions, each stem covered in tiny spearhead-shaped leaflets ranging from pale to bright green. Upward of a dozen or more plants clung to the sandstone, forming a tracery almost from ground to ramparts.
‘So sit o’er the maidenhair, gaze up north,’ Tansy said, as she checked the poem parchment.
Piknim and Craklyn were already racing away towards the wallsteps. ‘Last one to the steps is a crawly old caterpillar!’
Rollo stared over the top of his glasses at Tansy. ‘I know I’m the crawly old caterpillar, but where are they going? Have I missed something?’
Tansy took the old Recorder’s paw. ‘The only way we can carry out Fermald’s instructions is to sit on the battlements of this wall, over the maidenhair. Then we’ll see what to make of this riddle. Come on, no hurry, we’ll be crawly caterpillars together.’
28
DAY BROKE HOT and hazy over the isle of Sampetra as the murderous game between Ublaz and Rasconza took a new turn. The fox was asleep in his cabin when a sharp rat tat on the door awoke him. He sat up groggily, yawning and blinking.
‘Quit that knockin’ an’ come in!’
The door swung open to reveal the mad-eyed pine marten. Rasconza leapt for his sword, which lay on a nearby table. Ublaz held both paws wide to show he was unarmed. ‘Leave your blade, friend. I could have crept in here and slain you as you slept.’
Rasconza poured himself a beaker of seaweed grog, careful not to lock eyes with Ublaz. ‘So, what gets you outta yore bunk this early?’ he snarled.
The Emperor had dressed in brown silk that morning. He looked around at the stained benches and chairs, and chose to stand. ‘I merely called to tell you that the first new rudder and tiller are ready. My workers toiled through the night to finish them. Even as we speak my creatures are fitting them to this vessel.’
Rasconza was nonplussed. He stood staring at his beaker. ‘Well, I’ll say this for ye, matey, y’ve got some nerve comin’ down ’ere. Don’t ferget, I could order the crews to attack. We still outnumber yore forces!’
Ublaz gestured elegantly towards the open door. ‘I took the precaution of arriving silently. Your sentries are asleep and the other five crews snoring inside their cabins. A simple but effective operation, Rasconza. Oh, and one other thing. Stay away from your sword – you would have to face me if you were intent on slaying me. Then our eyes would meet. And if I can put a poisonous water snake under my spell, a simple fox would present no problem. It’s your move, friend.’
Rasconza could hear the Trident-rats hammering the rudder pins home and fitting the tiller above decks. Smiling with a confidence he did not feel, the fox answered Ublaz, ‘I still hold five of yore creatures, the captains, remember? One shout from me and they’ll all be fishbait!’
The pine marten had painted his claws red to offset the brown silk. He breathed on them and buffed them on his flowing sleeve as he murmured, ‘Shout away, fox, shout away. Do you think I gave you valuable fighters to captain these ships? Like Orlug, whom you slew, those five are worthless fools. Kill them if you want to.’
Rasconza scratched his matted tail with grimy claws, baffled. ‘Well, what do y’want? You’ve got me cornered in ’ere; y’don’t care about yer own creatures, and now yer fixin’ me ship up with a new rudder an’ tiller? You’ve probl’y got a gang of yer best lizards waitin’ outside to slay me, is that wot yer want?’
Ublaz leaned back against the cabin door, smiling. ‘I’ve already said I don’t want to slay you, Rasconza. Friendship and trust, that’s what I want. Look, here’s what I propose. Forget the rats I appointed as captains. Choose your own from among the crews, and I’ll give the order for mine to stand down. Then I want you to pick out all those loyal to you and crew this ship up. If we are to rule Sampetra together you must prove yourself to me, Rasconza! I want you to captain this vessel, sail anywhere you please, but bring me back the finest cargo of plunder ever seen on a corsair ship. Prove you are my Captain in Chief!’
Rasconza’s eyes lit up. ‘You mean that? Fair enough, Ublaz, I’ll pick me crew an’ bring back plunder t’this isle that’ll make yer eyes pop out!’
The Emperor grinned wryly. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’d like that to happen, but I’m glad you see things my way. You are a worthy partner, Rasconza. I like having cleverbeasts around me, there are too many fools in this world.’
When Ublaz had departed Rasconza called the crews together and gave them a highly falsified version of what had taken place between himself and the Emperor, giving them the impression that he had outsmarted Mad Eyes. The wave vermin cheered wildly, and began to break open kegs of grog. Then the fox banged his sword hilt on the jetty for silence, and continued his narrative.
‘So I sez to ole Mad Eyes, get those rats o’ yourn off our ships. I won’t ’ave nobeast commandin’ these vessels but our own. So, Baltur, Gancho, an’ you Groojaw the stoat, an’ you, Deddgutt the ferret, an’ you Buckla the searat – yore my five new cap’ns now! Stan’ up lively, the rest o’ yer, I’m takin’ my ship Bloodkeel on a plunderin’ trip, an’ I wants none but the best alongside o’ me!’
Amid scenes of wild revelling on the sunlit jetty, Rasconza chose his crew for the voyage. They leapt aboard Bloodkeel yelling and roaring in anticipation of plunder and slaughter.
Guja, the former steersrat of Barranca’s ship Freebooter, was made steersrat of Bloodkeel because there was none better for the job. The vermin laughed and cheered as he twiddled a tune on his melodeon, singing in a cracked baritone,
‘Would yer plunder from yer mother?
Yes I would, yes I would,
For me mother always said I was no good.
I’m a searat bred an’ born,
An’ I’m sailin’ in the morn,
Stan’ aside, me lucky buckoes, let me go!
Cut me teeth upon a cutlass
Yes I did, yes I did,
An’ me pore ole daddy ran away an’ hid,
Sayin’, “That’s no child o’ mine,
Let ’im sail across the brine,
Stan’ aside now for the vermin, let ’im go!”
If there’s plunder in the offin’
That’s fer me, that’s fer me,
An’ I never charge, I’ll kill you all fer free,
Give me lots o’ lovely loot,
An’ a cask o’ grog ter boot,
Up the anchor, loose the sails an’ let me go!’
Sinking majestically into the western horizon the sun burned skies of blue and gold to a crimson hue. Ublaz and Sagitar watched from an upper window as the hot day drew to a close. Bloodkeel was a mere speck far out to the southeast.
The Emperor poured two goblets of rich dark wine, and pushed one in the direction of his chief Trident-rat.
‘Now you may ask me,’ he said.
‘Ask you what, Sire?’ replied Sagitar
The pine marten sipped his wine, still watching Bloodkeel diminishing into the hazy distance of the ocean. ‘What is on your mind,’ he said. ‘Why did I repair the fox’s ship, why did I let him sail off with a crew of his own choosing, why did I not crush the wave vermin this morning when I had the chance? These are the questions on your mind, am I correct?’
Nervously, Sagitar swallowed the wine in one gulp. ‘Mightiness, you have read my mind!’
Ublaz refilled the goblets, narrowing his eyes to keep Bloodkeel in his vision. ‘You are only thinking what every otherbeast on Sampetra is thinking at this moment, so I will tell you. Rasconza is a born troublemaker, ambitious and deceitful. Like Barranca, he is popular with the corsair crews. This would make him dangerous in the long run, so I decided to dispense with him. First I let him choose a crew, knowing he would choose his closest allies. You see, there may be those among them who would also be future trouble to me, so I dispense with them also. But I do not want the other crews to know I am responsible for the slaying of Rasconza and his friends. I want them to think that their Emperor is benevolent to them – if they consider me their friend I will have their loyalty. So, there you have your answer.’
Sagitar paused, the goblet half lifted to her lips. ‘But Sire, you have not slain Rasconza and his crew. They have sailed away alive, free to return to Sampetra when they will.’
Ublaz smiled, shaking his head at the Trident-rat’s simplicity. ‘Look out to sea, Sagitar. If you can still see Rasconza’s ship, then take a last look at it. Bloodkeel has only one place to go, straight down! When my workers fitted the new tiller and rudder this morning they were carrying out my instructions. Below the waterline, they hewed the stern until the wood was thin, then they fitted the rudder. It has a special metal spike protruding from the back of it. Every time the steersrat moves the tiller, that spike gouges into the thinned stern below the waterline. By morning Bloodkeel will be where I have sent her with all aboard, deep down on the ocean bed!’