Pearls of Lutra

by Brian Jacques

  The old otter grasped Martin’s paw firmly. ‘Tell me what to do, Martin of Redwall, and I will help you!’

  43

  AUMA THE BADGER Mother sat at supper flanked by Skipper and Foremole, the three of them highly amused as Arven and the Dibbuns served the meal. Further up the table Sister Cicely sniffed, ‘Those babes should have been abed hours back!’

  Skipper glanced down the table. ‘Trim me sails, wot’s the matter with the Sister? She looks as if she’s swallered some of ’er own nettle soup.’

  Auma directed the otter’s attention to Diggum and Gurrbowl trundling a laden trolley towards them. ‘Pay no heed to Cicely. She’s got a knot in her tail because her patients have deserted the infirmary and she’s got nobeast to boss around. Will you look at these babes, how nice of them to serve us supper!’

  Diggum clambered up onto the table, her tiny face creased in a serious frown as she set about tying table napkins around the necks of Auma, Skipper and Foremole.

  ‘Yurr, you’m keep’n these on, et’ll save ee splashin’ zoop all over ee. Doan’t ee take em off, or boi ’okey oi’ll send ee all oop t’bed wi’out no zupper. Hurr!’

  Gurrbowl ladled out hotroot soup for all three, which Auma attempted to refuse, saying, ‘No thank you, sir, it looks a bit too spicy for me. I’ll just have salad and a little nutbread, please.’

  The molebabe glared at the big badger Mother. ‘Yoo’ll ’ave wot oi gives ee, marm, an’ sup et all, ’tis gudd for ee. Cummon, finish et oop an’ ee’ll grow gurt’n’strong loik oi, bain’t that roight, Skip?’

  The Skipper of Otters nodded vigorously. ‘Oh, ’tis right enough, matey. I’ll see she eats it all, you go’n’attend to the others. Sister Cicely looks famished, serve ’er.’

  The Dibbuns ambled off, pushing their serving trolley.

  Arven was trying to feed a mousebabe, arguing furiously with him. ‘Likkle maggit, eatta up all dese scones or grayshuss me I tell badgermum to baff you inna baff wiv lotsa soap uppa nose, ho yes!’

  The rebellious mousebabe flung a scone at Arven. ‘No! I h’ain’t got ’nuff teeths to eat ’em, um like rocks, you maked d’scones, you eat ’em!’

  It was at that point that the door slammed wide as Craklyn and Tansy rushed into Great Hall, shouting, ‘The tapestry! The tapestry! The secret’s in the tapestry!’

  Immediately the diners deserted their seats to crowd round the Abbeymaids.

  Foremole held up a huge digging claw, calling over the ensuing din, ‘Yurr, missie, wot be in ee tarpesty?’

  Rollo came panting in and fought his way to the front of the huddle. ‘The fifth pearl, of course,’ he said, ‘at least that’s what the clues say.’

  Arven wriggled his way through and stood facing the tapestry. ‘Well, wherra purl, Tansy pansy?’

  Tansy tweaked the little squirrel’s bushy tail. ‘We’ll tell you when we find it, nosy!’

  Auma’s huge voice boomed around the hall. ‘Stand back, everybeast back, please! Make room for Rollo and those maids to do their job. Move yourselves, please!’

  Reluctantly the Redwallers shuffled back a pace. Auma joined Rollo. ‘I don’t like intruding, but perhaps we can all help. How did you know the pearl is in the tapestry?’

  Rollo unfolded the parchment scrap and, spreading it on the floor, he demonstrated how they had solved the puzzle of the poem lines and letters to make up the word tapestry.

  ‘That’s as much as we know at present, but we’re convinced the fifth Tear of all Oceans is hidden somewhere in this tapestry.’

  All eyes were on the mighty needlework hanging from the wall.

  It depicted Martin the Warrior in the bottom right hand corner, armoured and leaning both paws on his swordhilt. The warrior had a reckless smile upon his handsome features, and all around him was a woodland scene showing vermin, some lying slain, others fleeing in all directions from the Hero of Redwall.

  Auma read the rhyme aloud:

  ‘There is a warrior,

  Where is a sword?

  Peace did he bring,

  The fighting Lord.

  Shed for him is my fifth tear,

  Find it in the title here,

  Written in but a single word,

  An eye is an eye, until it is heard.’

  Foremole scratched his dark-furred head. ‘Hurr, ’tis a gurt puzzlement, if’n ee purler be ’idden in um tarpesty oi doan’t see et. ’ow do ee foind the h’objeck?’

  Craklyn picked up the parchment and strode back and forth in front of the tapestry. ‘Here’s how, we dismantle the poem bit by bit, eliminating the pieces we don’t need until we find the vital line. Right . . . There is a warrior.’ She pointed at the figure of Martin, continuing, ‘Where is a sword?’

  Foremole indicated the blade that Martin leaned on. ‘Thurr! Wot do et say nex’, missie?’

  ‘Peace did he bring.’

  Tansy pondered for a moment. ‘Doesn’t sound like a clue. Carry on, Craklyn.’

  ‘The fighting Lord.’

  ‘No, that’s not much help. What’s next?’

  ‘Shed for him is my fifth tear.’

  ‘That means Fermald gave the fifth pearl to Martin,’ Rollo interrupted. ‘Continue.’

  ‘Find it in the title here.’

  Skipper thumped his tail thoughtfully. ‘Title, wot title?’

  Arven snorted impatiently. Marching up to the tapestry, he gestured. ‘There, that’sa tykle, there!’

  Embroidered on the bottom border of the work, right beneath the figure of the mouse, was a word. ‘Martin.’

  Craklyn could not conceal her excitement. ‘Aye, that’s it, listen to the next line. Written in but a single word. A single word, and that’s it. Martin!’

  A buzz of conversation arose from the onlookers; everybeast seemed to be speculating and arguing with each other.

  Skipper was forced to roar over the hubbub to restore order.

  ‘Quiet now, silence! Stow the gab an’ let these maids git on with it. Oh, sorry, Rollo sir, an’ you too. Wot d’you think?’

  Rollo polished his spectacles carefully. ‘I think we should hear the last line. Craklyn?’

  The squirrelmaid read out the poem’s final line: ‘An eye is an eye, until it is heard.’

  The silence which had fallen over Great Hall deepened. Everybeast stood looking at the tapestry, mentally repeating the line.

  Gerul limped forward from the table, where he had sat through it all, staunchly chomping away at every morsel in sight. He waved a slice of heavy fruit cake at Craklyn and Tansy. ‘Sure aren’t none of yer lissenin’? As me ould mother used t’say, ’tis as plain as the paw behind yer back in a fog.’

  Tansy folded her paws resignedly. ‘Oh, that’s a great help. I thought you were going to tell us all something intelligent for a moment there!’

  The owl pecked a few crumbs from his wing feathers. ‘Faith, an’ so I am, missie. Will ye think of the line for a moment. An eye is an eye, until it is heard. Does it not tell you anythin’?’

  Tansy shook her head. ‘Not a thing!’

  Gerul pointed at one of his eyes. ‘What pray is this?’

  Tansy’s reply was swift. ‘An eye, it’s your eye!’

  The owl chuckled. ‘Ah, the brains of the young are surely marvellous. Now tell me, what’s this?’ He pointed at Tansy’s right eye.

  The hedgehog maid gave a long sigh of impatience. ‘It’s an eye, my eye! What are you getting at?’

  Gerul went to a nearby table and took up a knife. ‘Me ould mother always used t’say, if y’can’t see with yore own two eyes what’s in front of them, then y’better off closin’ ’em an’ goin’ t’sleep, ’tis far more restful!’

  As he was speaking, the owl was scratching something on the floorstones with his knifepoint. He pointed at it. ‘Now, what would y’say that was?’

  Tansy studied it for a moment. ‘It looks like the letter I to me . . .’

  Gerul smiled. He had made his point. ‘Right, you just said it, the
letter I, at least that’s wot I heard y’say. See, I point to me eye, that’s the eye y’can see, but you just said I, that’s the I y’can hear!’

  Arven was first to the tapestry. He ran his paw quickly over the name Martin embroidered on the hem and, thrusting his other paw behind the hem, he ripped something away from behind the dot of the letter I in the warrior’s name.

  ‘It d’purl!’ he yelled.

  The fifth pearl fell to the floor, bounced twice on the stones and rolled a little way, coming to a halt in front of Auma. The badger picked up the pretty rose-coloured orb. It glowed softly in the lamplight as she presented it to Tansy, saying, ‘I believe Gerul deserves a vote of thanks for his help.’

  Shamefaced, Tansy shook the owl’s talon gently. ‘Gerul, friend, forgive me for getting so snippy with you.’

  The friendly bird blinked his great eyes. ‘Ah sure, cut us an ould slice of fruit cake an’ yer forgiven!’

  Craklyn swept the half-cake that was left from the table. ‘You deserve it all, and I’d bake your mother one twice this size if she were here!’

  Arven had been gradually sidling away until he was at the foot of the stairs. Suddenly Tansy caught sight of him and shouted, ‘The sixth clue! Arven, bring it here this instant!’

  The squirrelbabe did a little dance, wobbling his head comically. ‘Tansy pansy toogle doo! I foun’ it, d’paper’s mine!’

  Waving the scrap of parchment, which had been stitch-tacked lightly behind the tapestry to hold the pearl, Arven fled upstairs giggling.

  Rollo threw up his paws. ‘You two run and catch him. I’m too old for this sort of game. Well, go on, last one to catch Arven is a something or other, shall we say a baggy-bottomed beetle?’

  But Tansy and Craklyn were not listening. They were dashing headlong for the stairs to catch the squirrelbabe.

  Arven stood on a dormitory window sill, hidden by the drape of the curtain. He wriggled in anticipation as the door slowly creaked open. Tansy popped her head in. ‘Aaaaarven, are you theeeere?’ she called in a singsong tone.

  A small giggle sounded as Tansy and Craklyn tip-pawed into the dormitory. Craklyn pointed silently to the moving curtain as it wriggled and flapped against the sill. Tansy smiled, and called out in the same singsong voice, ‘Aaaarven, you’re hiding on the window siiiiiill!’

  A small giggly reply came from behind the curtain. ‘Teeheehee! Nooohooo, Arven not heeeeeeyer!’

  Craklyn whipped the curtain aside, revealing the squirrelbabe grinning mischievously, the crumpled scrap of parchment held tight to his small fat stomach.

  Tansy injected a note of serious authority into her demand. ‘Give me that paper, sir, immediately!’

  ‘Kyeeheehee! No, it mine, I foun’ it!’

  Craklyn launched herself at Arven, but he was too quick. Grabbing the curtain he swung outward, let go and somersaulted onto a bed. Tansy jumped upon Arven, and immediately he stuffed the parchment into his mouth and shut it tight.

  Tansy shook him. ‘Open your mouth at once, we need that parchment!’

  Arven shook his head, attempting to speak. ‘Nmff, ut mahn!’

  Craklyn leapt to her friend’s assistance. ‘Right, you’ve asked for this, you little maggot!’

  Grabbing both Arven’s footpaws, the squirrelmaid tickled furiously.

  ‘Yahahahahoohoostoppiiiiit!’

  Triumphantly, Tansy held up the damp scrap of parchment. ‘Got it!’

  Craklyn stopped tickling, only to find Arven’s footpaws thrust in her face.

  ‘More tickles, want more tickles pleez!’ he squealed.

  Later that night the three friends sat in Great Hall taking a late supper together. In front of them lay the scallop shell, open to reveal five rose-coloured pearls and one remaining space in the soft red cloth that lined the shell case. Rollo nibbled celery and cheese turnover briefly before rubbing his paws together.

  ‘Well, let’s see the final clues. I trust the parchment was not damaged too much by that little savage stuffing it in his mouth.’

  Tansy spread the parchment carefully on the tabletop. ‘No, it’s still quite legible. I dried it off in the kitchen ovens, but treat it carefully, it’s a mite crispy.’

  The friends read the lines slowly together.

  ‘My sixth and last tear I give unto you,

  When Redwallers lie abed,

  At midnight see, in full moon view,

  The purple arrowhead.

  Travel east, six rods from the tip,

  To the rose that blooms ever fair,

  See if you can find the right hip,

  Turn west and you’re halfway there.’

  Rollo pushed away the remains of his supper, cupped his head in both paws and leaned on the table dejectedly. ‘Huh! And we thought the last five clues were difficult?’

  Craklyn stared miserably at the oak-grained pattern of the tabletop. ‘Right! I don’t think poor Piknim would’ve sorted any real information from that rhyme, and she was far brighter than I am.’

  Tansy yawned and stood up, stretching. ‘I agree with both of you, but enough is enough for one night. I’m off to join all the other Redwallers who are lying abed.’

  The last thing Tansy heard before dropping off to sleep was the voice of Martin speaking to her.

  ‘The Abbess will find it for Piknim on the same ground where the fifth was found.’

  44

  UBLAZ STOOD ON top of the mighty piles of timber heaped against the back walls of his palace, and peered over the walltop at the rocks where Rasconza had agreed to meet him at dawn. There was still an hour to go before daybreak, but the pine marten was leaving nothing to chance this time. With his superb vision, he could make out tiny moving shapes on the low hill in the distance. Searats and corsairs were beginning to mass on the hilltop. Ublaz checked that his remaining threescore Monitors were waiting, armed with long lances, in the courtyard behind him. To the left and right, behind the hill where the Wave Brethren waited, two fire arrows flared briefly in the dark skies.

  The Emperor’s eyes glittered with fiendish delight. The trap was laid. During the night, Sagitar had secretly left the palace at the head of the entire army of Trident-rats and, at her Emperor’s bidding, she had split the force and hidden them well among the hills. When he arrived, Rasconza would be walking into a well-laid trap. The massed Trident-rats would sweep down behind his wavescum and ambush them from the rear. From there they would be driven against the back outer palace wall, where Monitors could thrust down into their ranks with long spears, followed by flaming bales of dried wood and grass.

  A jubilant lark arose to greet daybreak, chirruping happily as she ascended the upper air, sunrays from the east making her wings almost transparent against the still blue skies. She was unaware of what was taking place on the ground below. Rasconza was of the opinion that only a fool would go unarmed to any meeting with Ublaz, and the wily fox had slid a keen-edged dagger inside his tunic. Grinning wolfishly at his captains, he strolled down from the hilltop with them.

  ‘Sink me ship’n’drown me crew, would he? Well, today’s the day the Emperor o’ Sampetra gits toppled off ’is throne an’ fed to the fishes. Wait ’ere until I give the signal, buckoes, ’tis supper in the palace fer the Wave Brethren tonight. Right, I’m off! I ’ates ter keep anybeast waitin’ t’be slain!’

  The corsair fox strode jauntily to the meeting place, where Ublaz’s arrow had fallen on the previous day.

  Ublaz issued final orders to four Monitors standing nearby. They were holding a long, heavy rope with thick knots at short intervals along its length.

  ‘Lower me down gently and leave the rope hanging over the wall. I will return fast, so be ready. When I grab the rope haul me up with all speed. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yarr, Mightinezz!’

  Moments later Ublaz was lowered to the ground outside the palace and, alone and unarmed, he marched forward to where Rasconza awaited him.

  Both beasts halted within three paces of each ot
her. Since the pine marten had dispensed with wearing a transparent silk scarf across his eyes, Rasconza was careful to keep his gaze averted in the presence of his enemy. Rasconza was the first to break the silence.

  ‘So then, yore ’ighness, I unnerstand yer want peace. Well now, that’s a bit of a turnaround fer the Ruler of Sampetra an’ Terror of all the Seas, ain’t it? Still, I s’pose it makes sense, since all y’ve ’ad to deal with afore was fools an’ lizards.’

  Ublaz sneered at the swaggering corsair. ‘You may think you’re a clever fox, but you made a big mistake the day you tried to pit wits against me. Watch!’

  Ublaz raised his paws high and spread them, roaring at the top of his voice, ‘Attaaaaack!’

  Rasconza picked a small flower and sniffed it appreciatively. ‘Save yer breath, Mad Eyes. I’m the only one who’ll do the attackin’ this day. Take a look at yonder ’ill, wot d’yer see?’

  An uneasy feeling began to stir within Ublaz. Something was wrong.

  A figure, garbed in a long cloak and hood, stepped forward from the Wave Brethren crowded on the hill crest. Now it was Rasconza’s turn to shout.

  ‘Unsheet yerself fer the mighty Ublaz, matey!’

  It was Sagitar. Immediately she showed herself, tridents began to bristle among the vermin horde. Rasconza’s paw began slowly moving towards the dagger hidden in his tunic.

  ‘Yore Trident-rats ’ave changed sides,’ he gloated. ‘They’ve got a new leader. Me! Sagitar says to tell you ’er ’ead ain’t decoratin’ no trident on the jetty. Yore finished, Ublaz!’

  Then, whipping out his dagger, Rasconza pounced.

  But Ublaz was fast; he sprang to one side and, dealing the fox a smart blow on the back of his neck, he knocked the corsair flat on his face. Then he landed a swift kick to the fox’s side, driving the wind out of him.

  Unarmed and seeing the massed creatures pour from the hilltop towards him, Ublaz took to his heels and ran. Rasconza was tough; he leapt up and gave chase after his foe. With his paws pounding the earth like pistons, Ublaz dashed for the wall; a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears. Rasconza was coming after him and the fox could run like the wind. He was quickly closing the gap between them.