Pearls of Lutra by Brian Jacques
Tansy stopped sneezing and regained control of herself. ‘Oh, nothing really, missus Stump, it was an accident, but Sister Cicely said we’ve got to clean the whole sick bay before we’re allowed any breakfast. Come on, Arven, get sweeping.’
Teasel chuckled as she watched the youngsters floundering about amidst the feathers. ‘You’ll be ’ere this time tomorrer at that rate, young ’uns. Get you down to brekkist, I’ll clean up ’ere. ‘Twon’t take long.’
Arven and Tansy hugged the kindly hogwife gingerly, careful of her spikes. Teasel patted their heads, saying, ‘Go on with you, be off afore I changes me mind!’
The pair fled downstairs, yelling their thanks.
Tansy and Arven joined the serving line at the kitchen doorway. Clecky, who was before them, turned to Gerul and remarked, ‘D’you see what I mean, strange creatures in this place, wot? Look here behind me, a little hedgehog bird, jolly odd, eh?’
Tansy, picking feathers out of her headspikes, said, ‘I’m a hedgehog, sir, my name’s Tansy, and he’s Arven, my friend.’
The brown and white mottled hare made an elegant leg and bowed. ‘Pleased t’meet you, I’m sure. My name’s Clecky and this chap is known as Gerul.’
Tansy nodded. ‘I know.’
Clecky wrinkled his nose inquisitively at her. ‘Oh? An’ how pray did you know, missie?’
Tansy was taken by surprise. ‘Er, er, I think somebeast told me . . .’ Thinking quickly, she took Clecky’s mind off the enquiry by saying, ‘You’re next, sir, you’d better jump to it if you want breakfast!’
The mention of food distracted the hare, who began jostling Gerul. ‘Not so fast, y’feathered frump, it’s my turn t’get bally well served, don’t fret y’beak, there’ll be plenty left for you!’
The owl lost out; he was forced to step aside as his companion loaded up an oversized platter. ‘Plenty left fer me, d’you say? Ah, I’m not so sure with you helpin’ yerself to all an’ sundry, sir.’ He turned and winked at Arven. ‘Sure he’s a turrible creature at eatin’ that one is, ’tis a fact.’
Tansy steered Arven to a back bench, well out of the way of Sister Cicely. They sat between the molemaid Diggum and Viola bankvole. Tansy kept her head down, applying herself hungrily to hot oatcakes, honey and a beaker of greensap milk.
Viola sipped mint tea, not looking at Tansy but pointedly remarking aloud to others within hearing range, ‘I’ve heard that certain creatures won’t be allowed to take Dibbuns out into Mossflower Wood again, ’cos they get into trouble and come back home very, very late, and filthy too, smocks torn, dirty paws’n’faces. Anyhow, that’s what I’ve heard!’
Diggum looked up from a bowl of barleymeal. ‘Hoo urr, who’m tol’ ee that, missie Voler?’
Viola pursed her lips prissily. ‘That’s for me to know and you t’find out, so there!’
Arven gave a wink to Diggum; the mole twitched her nose knowingly in return and pointed across to another table further up. ‘Wurr et thatbeast oo tol’ ee, that ’un thurr?’
Viola turned to look, craning her neck. ‘Where?’
As she turned away, Arven slid Diggum’s bowl of warm barleymeal porridge to one side, pointing and saying, ‘There, tha’ likklemouse, can’t y’see ’im?’
Viola slid off the bench and stood on tip-paw. ‘Where, which creature do you mean, silly?’
Arven quietly placed the porridge bowl in the spot where Viola had been sitting, and said, ‘Too late, ’e finished an’ gone now.’
Viola heaved a sigh of exasperation and sat down with a flounce.
Splodge!
Martin, who was sitting at the top table with the elders and Redwall’s two latest guests, heard the wail set up by Viola bankvole.
‘What’s going on over there?’ he said, starting to rise from his seat.
Auma pressed him back down with a firm paw. ‘Only Dibbuns and young ’uns fooling about, I’ll attend to it.’
Rollo peered over the top of his glasses. ‘It’s Viola, I might have known, if she sits next to Tansy there’s bound t’be trouble,’ he said.
The hedgehog maid’s name stirred Clecky’s memory, and he leaned across to Martin. ‘A word in your shell-like ear, old chap,’ he said. ‘I was just thinkin’, I introduced meself an’ Gerul to that pretty hogmaid this mornin’ in the breakfast line. Funny thing, when I told her our names she said she already knew them. Well, I jolly well asked her how, an’ she muttered summat about already bein’ told by some bod or other. Point is, all your young ’uns were abed by the time we reached the Abbey. How could she have known my name if she was fast asleep?’
Martin stroked his chin pensively as the answer became clear. ‘Hmmm, our little eavesdropper on the stairs last night.’
Gerul gazed owlishly at a half-demolished cheese flan on his plate. ‘Hah! Yer right, sir, indeed y’are. Like me ould mother used t’say, a hog on the stairs is worth two hares in a hamper, an’ that’s a fact, so ’tis!’
Martin smiled at the irrepressible owl. ‘Your mother must have been a very wise bird, Gerul. Hush now, here’s Auma bringing the culprits for sentence.’
The badger Mother led Viola and Tansy up to the main table, halting them both in front of Abbot Durral. ‘Stand up straight now, both of you, don’t slouch,’ she said sternly. ‘Tell the Father Abbot what you’ve been up to, the truth mind!’
Viola’s voice was a tearful whimper. ‘She made me sit in a bowl of porridge, Father Abbot!’
Tansy’s voice was indignant. ‘No I never! Even though you were teasing me!’
Hiding a smile, Abbot Durral stroked his whiskers slowly. ‘Fighting among yourselves, little maids, this is very serious! What d’you say, Martin?’
The Warriormouse kept his face straight. ‘Make them promise never to do it again. Kiss and make up, I say.’
Tansy was just about to protest again when she happened to glance at the table where Arven was shifting from paw to paw looking decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Well, all right,’ she said stiffly, giving Viola a swift peck, ‘I’m sorry I made you sit in the porridge. I’ll never do it again. Sorry!’
Auma shook a huge paw at Tansy. ‘Wipe that smile off your face, miss. Viola, apologize to Tansy.’
The bankvole kept her lips pursed tight as they brushed her enemy’s face. ‘Sorry for teasing you, never do it again!’
‘There!’ said Martin, sitting back, satisfied that justice had been done.
Auma gave him a look that would have curdled milk. ‘Is that all?’ she demanded.
Glancing meaningfully at Martin, Rollo the Recorder interrupted. ‘We can’t have young maids arguing and teasing and sitting in good porridge. I think they should be taught a lesson.’
Then Arven and Diggum wandered up sheepishly paw in paw. They had decided to own up to their part in the trouble.
‘Zurr h’Abbot, et wurr moi porridge as she sitted in.’
‘An’ I’m a maggit, I maked ’er look away so she din’t see.’
Abbot Durral made a swift decision. ‘Right, I sentence you both to play in the orchard all day; and for arguing, Viola can clean the gatehouse from top to bottom and Tansy can sweep the dormitory stairs.’
After breakfast Martin took a stroll in the Abbey grounds with Rollo, Clecky and Gerul. A high sun was warm on their backs as they enjoyed the fine spring morn.
Martin threw a paw across the old Recorder’s shoulders. ‘I’ve been thinking. Tansy is alone near the dormitories. If she was the listener on the stairs, I’ll wager she goes up to Fermald’s attic.’
The mountain hare winked at Martin. ‘Well, what d’ye think, Warrior, time we sneaked upstairs to see what young miss Tansy’s about, eh?’
He strode off jauntily in the direction of the Abbey. As they followed, Rollo commented to Martin, ‘It’s good to have a hare in our Abbey again. There’s not been one since old Basil in the time of your father, remember him?’
Martin smiled at some half-forgotten recollection. ‘Aye, just about.
9
THE SPIRAL STONE staircases, from Cavern Hole and Great Hall, up to the Abbey dormitories, needed only the lightest skim with a broom; they were passably clean before Tansy began her chore. It was the stairs above, from dormitory to attics, which intrigued the young hedgehog maid. She swept her broom along the bedroom corridor, glancing nervously to where the upper stairs were situated at the end of the passage. Curving up into the darkness, they looked very forbidding and gloomy. Tansy brushed the first three steps, conscious of the echoing swish her straw broomhead made in the eerie silence. Finally curiosity overcame her fear and, abandoning her work, she gripped the broomhandle like a quarterstave and trod silently, keeping to the broad edge of the spiralling wedges of stone, upward into the dim dusty attics.
Peering down a passage, Tansy saw a pale shaft of light, and crept forward to investigate. She came to a long, low-ceilinged room, with light filtering through a high cobwebbed window of chunked crystal. Picking her way through the jumble of musty furniture, Tansy knew she had found the dwelling of Fermald the Ancient. Locating lamp, flint and tinder, the hogmaid soon had better illumination for her exploration. It was a sad and lonely place, furnished by the old squirrel with forgotten odds and ends she had found in this and other attic chambers. Dust rose in a small cloud as Tansy plumped down into a battered armchair.
‘Found anything interesting, missie?’
Unable to stifle a shriek, the hedgehog maid leapt up.
Martin and Rollo strode into the attic, followed by Clecky and Gerul. Tansy began stammering and sweeping, avoiding the eyes of the Warrior and the Recorder as she tried to make up excuses. ‘I was . . . er, I just . . . atting the brushic . . . er, I mean brushing the attic . . . !’
Rollo held a sleeve across his nose and mouth, saying, ‘Will you stop stirring the dust, missie! Put that broom down!’
Martin sat in the armchair, bringing his eyes level with Tansy’s. ‘Why were you sneaking about on the stairs last night, listening in on our conversation?’
The hogmaid fumbled with the corner of her apron. ‘I wasn’t sneaking, sir. I woke up in the sick bay, it was dark and I was hungry. Then I remembered, as you were taking me and Arven back home through the woodlands, you said something about a feast. So I came downstairs; it was very quiet and I heard voices. I peeped around the stairs and saw the feast was over. I couldn’t help hearing what you were talking about and I didn’t want to disturb you, but then I trod on a plate that some Dibbun had left on the stairs and it broke and clattered down. So I dashed straight back up to bed . . .’
Rollo perched on the chair arm. ‘But you obviously heard all that we said, about Graylunk and Fermald and the time they spent together up here.’
Tansy stared miserably at the dusty floor. ‘Yes sir, I couldn’t help but hear, it sounded so interesting and exciting, that poem the Abbot recited and all. I wanted to come up here and look for clues. I was only trying to help.’
Martin felt sympathetic to the little maid. He patted her paw and said, ‘Yes, I’m sure you did, Tansy, but there’s not much up here to see, is there? A few old sticks of furniture and lots of dust, and you shouldn’t be up here really, should you? It was your job to sweep the dormitory stairs. Obedience is one of the first things young ’uns learn at Redwall.’
A light of indignation arose in Tansy’s eyes. ‘But I did sweep the dormitory stairs, both flights. You must have noticed that when you came sneaking up here after me. Sir!’
Clecky burst out laughing at the hogmaid’s pert reply. ‘Hahaharr! She’s got y’there, Martin, those stairs looked clean enough t’me, wot! By the left, marm, you’re a snippy little ’un an’ no mistake!’
Rollo was smiling too. ‘She’s right, Martin, we did come sneaking up here after her; and give Tansy her due, the stairs are well brushed. Righto, missie, your chores are done for the day. Away with you now and play out in the sunlight. Dirty old attics are no place for a pretty one like you on a bright spring day.’
Martin took Tansy by the paw, as she seemed reluctant to leave the attic. ‘Come on, Tansy pansy, I’ve got another job for you. If I recall rightly this is Abbot Durral’s seventh season as Father Abbot of Redwall. Here’s a good idea: supposing you and our two guests here went to the kitchens and baked him a surprise cake!’
Clecky rubbed his paws with delight. ‘I say, what a spiffin’ wheeze! I bet ole Abbot Thingummy’d be highly jollificated to get a surprise cake, what d’you think, Gerul?’
The owl blinked furiously. ‘Aye, that he would, sir. Me ould mother always said, there’s nothin’ like a surprise when yer not expectin’ it, ’tis surprisin’ how it can surprise yer!’
Clecky led the way downstairs enthusiastically. ‘Oh, tickety boo! I’ve never made a cake before, you’ll have t’show me an’ Gerul how it’s done, young hog m’gel!’
Tansy found herself as excited by the prospect as her companions. ‘Well, the first thing you need is spotless clean paws, then we’ll ask Friar Higgle to give us an oven to ourselves an’ a big table. We’ll need fruit an’ nuts, cream too, lots of it, oh, honey as well, an’ a beaker of October Ale to go in the mix – Father Abbot likes good dark cake, nice an’ moist . . .’
Martin winked at Rollo as the happy voices receded downstairs. ‘Sounds like fun, shall we go down and watch?’
The Recorder slid from the chair arm into the seat vacated by his friend. ‘No, you go, Martin. I want to stay up here a bit and have a think and a glance around.’
When the attic was quiet, Rollo sat alone in the armchair. He sighed and leaned back, then, closing his eyes, he let his paws stray down the sides of the seat cushion.
Tansy stood on a stool, checking the ingredients spread around the tabletop next to the oven.
‘Hmm, I think that’s everything. Gerul, would you tip the flour into the bowl, please? Mister Clecky sir, stop that!’
‘Yowch! I say, that jolly well hurt!’
Tansy brandished the wooden mixing spoon under the hare’s nose. ‘Then stop pinching the hazelnuts! They’re supposed to go in the cake mix, not into your fat tummy! That’s enough flour, Gerul; now you add the greensap milk slowly and Clecky can stir. I’ll dribble the honey in bit by bit like this. Oh, and just let me catch you trying to lick that spoon, Clecky flopears!’
The hare stirred vigorously, muttering rebelliously to himself. ‘Humph! Lick the spoon indeed, bossy little spikebonce, what’s the point of makin’ a cake if a chap can’t lick the bally old spoon once in a while, prickly little slavedriver!’
Hazelnuts, chestnuts, almonds and beechnuts were added to the mix under Tansy’s watchful eye, though she missed Gerul taking a quick swig of October Ale because she was busy checking on the hare pouring in a small noggin of dark elderberry wine. Friar Higgle chuckled as he watched Tansy’s efforts to supervise the gluttonous pair whilst concentrating on her mixture.
‘Tch, tch, Gerul, take those dried apple rings off that talon!’
‘Mmm, I say, these little purply things are just the job!’
‘You villain! Stay away from my dried plums. Mind out, let me get this crystallized fruit in the bowl before you two get your thieving paws into it!’
The cake mix was finally emptied into a circular oven dish that had been lined with thin maple bark soaked in vegetable oil to prevent the cake sticking. Tansy allowed the hare and owl to place it in the oven whilst she got the covering ready.
Clecky’s ears stood up and his nose twitched. ‘What ho, m’gel, is that cream an’ marchpane I see, wot?’
Narrowing her eyes fiercely, Tansy shook the ladle at them both. ‘Yes it is. Keep your distance – go and get more charcoal for the oven fires – do something useful!’
Clecky sniffed indignantly. ‘Tchah! Have a care, marm, we’re chefs, not stokers. Here you, small molechap, more fuel
The young mole whom Clecky addressed was quite taken aback. He saluted the hare and dashed off to get charcoal.
Gerul clacked his beak admiringly, remarking to Friar Higgle, ‘Isn’t he the good one at the givin’ of orders, sir? Why, if I wasn’t so disobedient to him I’d obey him meself so I would!’
Higgle stepped in and came to Tansy’s rescue. ‘You carry on mixin’ the cream, missie; I’ll set these two to rollin’ out marchpane.’
The good Friar instructed them both in the use of the doughy golden mixture. ‘This ’ere’s marchpane, see. ’Tis made from ground almonds, stiff comb honey an’ sweetchestnut flour. Mister Clecky, you take this roller an’ roll it out flat, so’s it’ll go over the cake afore Tansy tops it off with meadowcream. Now, Gerul sir, I wants you t’make seven lovely round balls with this lump o’ marchpane. They’ll go atop of the cake for Father Abbot’s seven seasons. Look busy now, sirs, an’ mind, no nibblin’. Martin, will you stand by with yore great sword an’ keep an eye on ’em?’
The Warriormouse chuckled. ‘Oh, I won’t need my sword, Higgle, this copper ladle should do!’
10
ROLLO KNEW FROM experience how many times he had lost things only to find them again down the sides of his armchair in the gatehouse. He smiled, producing a parchment scroll from a gap between cushion and chair. Fermald the Ancient had not been very different from him when she lived. Balancing his lantern on the chair arm and donning his spectacles, the old Recorder carefully unfastened the ribbon from the parchment and unrolled it. The writing was thin and spidery, but quite legible.
Unusual it is to call a vermin friend, but this weasel Graylunk, a poor lonely creature whose mind was sore troubled by his past, I call him friend. But why? Have not the vermin, more so those who come from the seas, always been the foebeast? I call Graylunk friend because he called me friend. Creatures below stairs did not understand him, they grew weary of his constant weeping. But I knew by the deep wound in his head that he could not help behaving in the way that he did. Ah, cruel wound! to cut short the seasons of one still young.