Pearls of Lutra

by Brian Jacques

  Leaping to their paws, the three Abbeymaids scampered down the wallstairs, stumbling in their haste, calling, ‘It’s the jackdaw, there it goes!’

  Gerul and Rollo descended the stairs as fast as they could, making haste out to the lawn. They arrived in time to see the three friends slipping out of Redwall by the small south wicker gate in the outer wall.

  The owl looked sadly at his damaged wing. ‘Faith, ’tisn’t the walkin’ I mind, but I do wish I could fly agin.’

  Rollo shaded his eyes with both paws, peering up into the blue. ‘I fear they’ll have lost that jackdaw by now; it would be far too difficult to follow a bird through woodlands.’

  The old Recorder’s fears proved true. Tansy and her friends were far too small to keep track of a high-flying jackdaw, but they were not about to admit defeat. Craklyn went scooting up a nearby sycamore with all the agility of a young squirrelmaid. Piknim and Tansy almost lost sight of her, until she emerged swaying among the topmost branches. She watched awhile, then pointed eagerly before scrambling down. Back on the ground, breathless and dishevelled, she shouted, ‘Circling south, the jackdaw’s taking a round sweep southward!’

  Tansy grinned and clapped her paws. ‘Of course, it’s headed to old Ninian’s church! Come on!’

  As they dashed by the southwest corner of the Abbey, the maids bumped into Gerul and Rollo, who had exited Redwall by its main gate.

  Rollo was agog for information. ‘Did you see the bird? Which way did it go?’

  Tansy nodded. ‘To the old church, I think!’

  Dust rose in a small column as the three Abbeymaids hurtled off down the path, Rollo and Gerul following them at a more sedate pace.

  The old Recorder explained to the owl about the ancient building. ‘Nobeast really knows when Ninian’s was built, or who built it. Every once in a while creatures will try to settle there, but it’s so damp and decaying they leave after a short time. It would be an ideal dwelling for scavengers like jackdaws.’

  Gerul hobbled along the dusty path as swiftly as he could, leaving Rollo behind. ‘Sure, if there’s more’n one jackdaw t’deal with, those young maids will be in trouble,’ he shouted as he went. ‘Those are bad’n’dangerous birds if’n they’re disturbed. I’ll try t’catch up with them.’

  Twilight’s first shadows were stealing gently over the woodlands when a long javelin sank deep into the ground next to the sleeping Dibbuns. Arven was wakened by a huge dark shape which swept him up into its powerful paws.

  ‘Yeeeek! It’sa blizzards, they got me, ’eeeeelp!’ he yelled.

  Still befuddled by slumber, Diggum and Gurrbowl found themselves hefted upward in similar fashion.

  ‘Hoo urr, let oi go, zurr, we’m nought but babes!’

  ‘Ee blizzards goin’ to eat uz all oop, oh woe!’ the molebabes cried out.

  Chuckling deeply, Rangapaw, daughter of Skipper, held the kicking, struggling Arven firmly. ‘Belay there, you liddle maggots, we ain’t goin’ to eat ye! Quit wrigglin’ or you’ll fall on yore ’ead!’

  Diggum scrambled up onto the shoulder of the otter who was holding her. Grabbing his whiskers, she stared into her rescuer’s eyes, and said, ‘Yurr, you’m bain’t no blizzard, you’m a h’otter!’

  Rangapaw tucked Arven firmly into her side as she retrieved her javelin. ‘Hoho, matey, lucky fer you we are. Now wot are you three rogues doin’ a wanderin’ off from yore Abbey? Can’t y’see ’tis close on nightfall? And we’re supposed to be searching for a volemaid, not blizzard-hunters.’

  Arven popped out of his captor’s grasp. Landing nimbly on the ground, he folded his paws across his small fat stomach and murmured darkly, ‘Us was ’untin’ for blizzards who took Farver h’Abbot an’ Voler, us was gonna catcherem an’ get all mucky an’ scratchered an’ bringem back to the h’Abbey an’ not get shouted at.’

  The big otter shook with silent laughter at the three Dibbuns. She could understand their predicament, having had many similar adventures when she was small. ‘You did well, mates,’ she said, ‘we saw a great crowd o’ them blizzards, just a short time ago. They was runnin’ fer their cowardly lives ’cos they knew three warriors like you was abroad trackin’ ’em. Ain’t that right, mates?’

  The otter crew caught her broad wink and nodded solemnly.

  ‘Ho aye, runnin’ scared stiff they was!’

  ‘Harr, I wouldn’t ’ave liked to be one o’ them if’n you three’d caught up with ’em!’

  ‘Save us from those bloodthirsty Dibbuns, they was cryin’ – I ’eard ’em wid me own two ears!’

  Arven scowled ferociously, picking up his stick and shaking it. ‘Cummon, you c’n ’elp us, we soon catchem!’

  Rangapaw swept the tiny squirrel up onto her shoulder. ‘Nah, leave ’em, mate, they ain’t worth it. We got to get you roughnecks back to Redwall. Ahoy, Rushcutter, break out some supplies so these warriors can eat on the way back.’

  Gurrbowl prodded the otter in question.

  ‘Hurr aye, an’ ’urry ee up, oi be gurtly ’ungered!’

  Back at the Abbey, Higgle Stump checked the contents of his ovens for the third time that evening. ‘What’ll I do, Teasel? Serve the meal or empty these ovens an’ let the vittles cool before they get spoiled?’

  Goodwife Teasel continued ladling cooked gooseberry and rhubarb into a bowl. She was making a crumble. ‘Can’t serve food if’n they’re all still out searchin’. Wait’ll I finish this, then I’ll go an’ find Mother Auma, see wot she wants us t’do with all this good fare.’

  Auma was sitting on the Abbey doorstep with Skipper, scratching her muzzle worriedly. ‘We should have started searching for those little ones last night,’ she said. ‘Sister Cicely wanted to and I stopped her, leave them I said, they’ll come out of hiding when they’re hungry enough. Now look, we’ve searched all day long, everybeast in the Abbey, and still not a trace of them. It’s all my fault, Skipper – and there’s poor Viola too, out there in the woods alone – lost or captured, or worse . . .’

  The tough otter laid a gentle paw on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you go blamin’ yoreself, marm. I’d ’ave said the same, knowin’ those three liddle snips. Hearken, wot’s that?’

  Bong boom, boomabong!

  Furlo Stump’s shouts rang out from the belltower between the peals of Redwall’s twin bells. ‘Otter crew comin’ down the path with three Dibbuns, I see ’em clear. Open the gates, Wullger!’

  The big badger Mother of Redwall swept away a tear with her apron corner as she hurried to the main gate. ‘Praise the fates! They’re safe! But what of Viola?’

  Sister Cicely caught up with her. ‘There’s no sign, but at least these three are alive, seasons be thanked. Outside the Abbey walls, if you please, wandering all over Mossflower without a care in the world, I’ll be bound. Well, just wait until I have a word with those three. I’ll wager it was that little ragtag Arven who kept them out in those woods!’

  A single bell tolled four times, calling all Redwallers to the meal in Great Hall. Owing to the addition of Log a Log and his Guosim shrews, who had stayed to help with the search, and Rangapaw’s otter crew, extra tables had been laid.

  Auma approached Rangapaw anxiously. ‘Was there no sign of our little volemaid?’ she asked. ‘I can’t bear to think of her lost and alone out in those dark woods.’

  ‘Sorry, marm,’ replied Rangapaw, ‘but rest assured. As soon as we’ve dealt with these three little ones we’ll resume our search.’

  Sister Cicely and several of the other Abbey elders were of the opinion that the three Dibbuns should be sent straight to bed after a good dressing down for all the trouble they had caused. However, it was not to be. Skipper’s daughter Rangapaw defended the babes stoutly, winning Auma and many others to her side. The otter went into comical detail relating the attitude of Arven and the two moles, and soon had everybeast nodding and smiling. Finally, she seated the trio among her otters.

  ‘Mates, I can’t think of no better tribute t’these thr
ee warriors who saved this ole Abbey from bein’ overrun by blizzards, than bein’ made official members of my otter crew. We need brave beasts like Arven, Diggum an’ Gurrbowl t’protect us in our ole age, when they’re growed an’ we’re staggerin’ about all grey-furred.’

  Before Sister Cicely could protest, Log a Log stood up, saying, ‘I second that! No sense in breakin’ their spirits by shoutin’ at ’em an’ sendin’ them off t’bed with no vittles. They’re three good ’uns, what d’you say, Skip?’

  The otter Chieftain stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. ‘Well, if y’put it thatways, matey, wot c’n I say? We could’ve all been slayed or taken prisoner by blizzards, wotever they be, but fer these three. I’ll say this, though, if’n they’re to be otter crew then they got to abide by our laws . . .’

  Here Rangapaw turned to the three Dibbuns and stopped them stuffing their faces with strawberry junket for a moment. ‘D’you three take an oath by fur, fire’n’water that you don’t go wanderin’ off agin, unless it’s with my permission? Also, d’ye swear that you’ll act like proper otter crew warriors, obeyin’ the orders of yore elders, never tellin’ fibs, bein’ good to allbeasts, an’ growin’ up well mannered? D’you take the oath?’

  Diggum stood up on her chair, waving a spoon. ‘Ho aye, zurr, us’ns take ee oats!’

  There was general cheering and laughter as the three Dibbuns stood nobly, paws on stomachs, because they were not sure where their hearts were located. Even Sister Cicely managed a smile.

  Rangapaw called her scouts together and spoke gravely to Auma before silently slipping away to resume the search for Viola. ‘Don’t you fret, marm. We won’t rest night or day until we’ve searched every tree, nook and hollow of Mossflower woods and found the little maid.’

  The merriment ceased abruptly when the Abbey door banged open wide and Wullger the gatekeeper staggered in, holding up Tansy and Craklyn. They made it to the front of the main table then collapsed on the floor, breathless and sobbing.

  Wullger looked pleadingly at Auma. ‘I can’t get no sense outta them, marm, but I think somethin’ terrible’s ’appened down at ole Ninian’s church!’

  Auma was around the table surprisingly quickly for one of her long seasons and great girth. The big badger bathed the Abbeymaids’ tearstained faces with cold water from a bowl. Skipper and Log a Log kept back the press of anxious Redwallers who had left their seats to crowd around the two exhausted creatures.

  Goodwife Teasel assisted, bathing Tansy’s brow and calming her until she had recovered enough to speak coherently. Teasel leaned close to the hedgehog maid, stroking her cheek, and said, ‘Easy now, liddle ’un, take your time, yore among friends.’

  Tansy’s voice was racked by sobs, and great tears coursed down her face as she explained breathlessly, ‘Ran all the way here . . . Attacked by jackdaws . . . Ninian’s . . . Rollo hiding . . . in ditch . . . Gerul said get help . . . Piknim . . . Piknim . . . Oh, no . . . Oh, Piknim!’

  Auma was nursing Craklyn; she heard what Tansy said as if from afar. The badger clasped the squirrelmaid’s face between her paws and asked, ‘Is this true?’

  Craklyn nodded, her head falling forward in exhaustion. The badger Mother looked at her paws, bloodstained from the deep scratches on the squirrelmaid’s face.

  Log a Log drew his rapier, his paws trembling with rage as he turned to Skipper. ‘Fetch back yore daughter an’ her crew. Guosim, arm yoreselves, we’ve got business to attend to double quick. Come on!’

  35

  THE EMPEROR UBLAZ Mad Eyes rose in a thunderous mood. He had been awakened by timid tapping on his bedchamber door.

  ‘If you must knock, then knock! Don’t stand around there all day tipping and tapping. Get in here!’

  Chief Trident-rat Sagitar gingerly stepped into the bedchamber. A shaft of early morning sunlight cut across the rumpled silk sheets onto the face of the pine marten. Ublaz shaded his eyes with a paw, blinking irately at the hapless rat.

  ‘What is it now? Speak up!’

  Sagitar took a deep breath before launching into her report. ‘Sire, one of your Monitors was washed up on the tideline this morning at dawn. He was lashed to a rudder and tiller, slain. This was stuffed in his mouth, Sire.’

  Ublaz snatched the damp scrap of sailcloth from the rat’s nerveless paws, unrolled it swiftly and sat staring at the message written in the blood of the Monitor.

  ‘Death to Mad Eyes from Rasconza and the Wave Brethren!’

  Flinging the sailcloth from him, he ran to the window and glared out at the hot tropic seas, peaceful and quiet in the early morn. ‘That makes four altogether in two days, all Monitors! Tell me, have the wavescum returned to the taverns?’

  Sagitar shook her head decisively. ‘No, Sire, nor have they sought to board their ships; the whole harbour area lies deserted. The corsairs and searats have taken to the hills . . .’

  Ublaz pushed the Trident-rat aside with a snarl. ‘I know that, blockhead. They have food, supplies and arms that they took with them.’

  ‘Could we not hunt them down, Sire?’ Sagitar suggested helpfully.

  Ublaz whirled on her, his temper rising. ‘No, we could not. They are only waiting for me to leave this palace unguarded and they will be in here immediately! Go away, marshal all your Trident-rats and the remainder of my Monitors, place guards around the whole area and keep me informed of any movements out there. Leave me now, I must think.’

  Buckla the searat captain, Guja the steersrat and Groojaw the stoat captain had captured another Monitor. They had the lizard bound and gagged; he tottered ahead of them as they prodded him forward with stolen tridents.

  Rasconza sat roasting a lobster over the embers of a campfire at the northwestern inlet of Sampetra. He nodded affably at the trio as they hurled the lizard to the sand.

  ‘Haharr, another prisoner, eh, mates? Wot’s ’appenin’ down at our Great Emperor’s palace?’

  Buckla squatted in the shade of a rock, away from the sun’s fierce heat, and took a draught from a jug of seaweed grog. ‘Aaaah, that’s better, ain’t gettin’ much cooler, is it? Ole Mad Eyes is forted up in ’is palace, afraid t’move out. We delivered the last Monitor like y’said, floated ’im in all pretty like. Sagitar took yore message up ter Ublaz. We caught this’n guardin’ the ships on the jetty.’

  Rasconza prodded the glaring lizard with his swordpoint. ‘Don’t you fret, matey, you won’t ’ave to suffer such rough company as us much longer. We’ll deliver yer back to ole Ublaz by nightfall, one way or another, eh, mates?’

  The corsairs and searats lying about the camp laughed uproariously at their leader’s crude jest.

  ‘Do we deliver ’im back in a bit, or bit by bit? Hawhawhaw!’

  Groojaw was not interested in the banter. ‘When do we take back our ships?’ he said, scowling at Rasconza.

  The fox smiled craftily. ‘When we’re good’n ready, mate; that’s wot Ublaz is expectin’ us t’do, raid the jetty to get back our vessels. Hah! Ole Mad Eyes’d ’ave a plan laid to stop that, never fear. No, the palace is more important than the ships to us right now. We’ll keep Ublaz ’emmed in there until he’s ready to parley . . .’

  Guja looked quizzically at Rasconza. ‘Then wot?’

  The fox drew his favourite dagger and licked the blade slowly. ‘Then we plays ’im false an’ kills ’im. Pine martens ain’t the only ones good at treachery, y’know.’

  Groojaw was still not happy. ‘But we need ships. What about our vessels?’ he said.

  Rasconza thought about this for a moment, then he stood and walked to the hilltop overlooking the cove. He pointed down at the vessel that had been scuttled there.

  ‘Yer want a ship, Groojaw, see, there’s Barranca’s ole craft the Freebooter, she’s only been scuttled. I’ll wager a goodbeast like yerself with a decent crew could seal ’er up, bale ’er out an’ drag ’er ashore at low tide. Once the ole Freebooter is seaworthy agin there ain’t a faster craft in all the seas.’

  Groo
jaw took a crew down to the cove. When he had gone, Rasconza lay back and cracked the shell from his roasted lobster. ‘There, that should keep Groojaw ’appy. Besides, we could do with ’avin’ a ship afloat that Ublaz don’t know about, it’ll come in useful.’

  As night fell Ublaz himself went down to the escarpment to view the body of the Monitor that had been dumped there by Rasconza’s crew. Surrounded by an armed guard of Monitors and Trident-rats, the pine marten paid little attention to the dead lizard. He was more interested in the sailcloth that had been thrust into its mouth. Retrieving it, he stood to one side and read Rasconza’s scrawl.

  ‘We will talk together tomorrow. Ignore this and I will burn you out. Hoist a green flag if you agree to meet me, mid-noon in middle of island. Rasconza.’

  Ublaz motioned Sagitar away from the rest, then he walked her out of earshot along the escarpment before whispering to her, ‘Bring six good archers to my throne room before midnight. Let nobeast see them and speak of this to none.’

  Ublaz smiled to himself as he strode back to his palace. He was once more back in the game. The fox would soon know he could not outsmart an Emperor.

  Waveworm had been free of the fog and ice for more than two days. She ploughed on westward as the weather grew more clement. The sun shone, although the wind was still cold and the seas were rough. Abbot Durral sat in the cabin of Romsca the ferret captain. He gnawed hard ship’s biscuit and sipped at a beaker of none-too-clear water. Durral’s mind was anywhere but aboard a corsair vessel; mentally he was back at his beloved Abbey, picturing himself pottering about in the orchard with his friend Rollo, or helping Teasel and Higgle with the baking. The old mouse wrinkled his nose, sniffing, and imagined laying a tray of hot scones, fresh from the oven, on a window ledge to cool. Smiling, he had a vision of several mischievous Dibbuns loitering near the scene, to see if they could liberate the odd scone. Durral actually wagged a paw, warning them off. Little rascals!