The Pearls of Lutra

by Brian Jacques

  The goblet smashed upon the floor as it fell from Sagitar’s nerveless paws. She stared with speechless horror at the smiling pine marten. Ublaz spread his paws wide.

  ‘Now I have no enemies and I own the corsair fleet. Nobeast in all the seas and oceans is more powerful and wise than I!’

  The mad-eyed Emperor had emerged as victor in his murderous game against the wave vermin. However, he had reckoned without the chain of events he had set off by slaying Lutra and his kin for six rose-tinted pearls.

  29

  ON MOSSFLOWER SHORE, dawn arrived, bright and warm. Log a Log and his Guosim shrews had been busy most of the night, working on Grath’s longboat to make it seaworthy again. The big otter viewed their work admiringly, pacing up and down as she inspected her new craft.

  The shrew Chieftain pointed out the features his workers had accomplished. ‘We used eight long willow boughs, still green. See, we’ve made a double outrigger of yore liddle boat by fittin’ a shrew logboat to each side of ’er. My shrews put a longer keel on yore boat, too; you’ll need it on the high seas. She’s a good ’un now, matey!’

  Grath had to agree; the new craft was ideal for seafaring. It rode in the stream, with a logboat fixed either side by the willow boughs, leaving enough space between the outriggers to enable it to be paddled by oars. Shrews were wading into the stream, stocking the logboats with provisions, which left more passenger space on the main vessel. Clecky joined them, a bowl of soup in one paw, a slice of oatcake in the other, and a large seaweed poultice bound to the bump he had received between his ears.

  ‘Spiffin’ idea, wot! I’ve always fancied m’self as a jolly old nautical type, y’know. I say, d’you think we’ll have enough grub along for the voyage? A chap could starve out there without plenty of fodder. I’ll be captain, of course, natural air of command an’ all that, born to lead my old pater always used t’say, wot?’

  Martin placed a bowl of soup in front of the captive searat and sat down next to him. ‘Here, that’ll take the edge off your hunger,’ he said. ‘Now – what’s your name?’

  The rat grabbed the bowl gratefully. ‘They calls me Bladeribb, sir.’

  The Warriormouse tore off a hunk of shrewbread and gave it to the rat. ‘No need to sir me, Bladeribb. Where d’you think the ship has gone?’

  Lifting his lips from the bowl, Bladeribb nodded seaward.

  ‘Due west fer Sampetra, I’d take me oath on it.’

  Martin stared levelly at him. ‘Then your oath better be good, because you’re coming with us. How far away is this place you call Sampetra?’

  ‘Some say ’tis beyond where the sun sinks in the west, too far for yore liddle boat t’sail, I’d say.’

  Martin eyed the distant horizon as he strapped the sword to his back. ‘You let me worry about that. Now, tell me all you know about Sampetra.’

  By late morning they were ready to sail. Log a Log and the Guosim crowded around the bank as Martin, Grath and Clecky waded into the shallows, leading Bladeribb by a rope tied about his middle. Viola bankvole followed them, crying, ‘I’m going with you to help free Abbot Durral!’

  Martin had noted a change in Viola. She seemed more sensible and confident since her captivity; several times that morning she had requested to sail with them. Now, as before, Martin gave her his answer.

  ‘Sorry, little one, it would be far too dangerous for you. We’ll bring the Abbot back, I promise you. Go back to Redwall now, there’s a good creature. Log a Log and his shrews will see you get home safe.’

  Water splashed as Viola stamped her footpaw in the shallows. ‘Just because I’m not a grownup warrior you don’t want me! It’s not fair, I’m being treated like a silly little Dibbun!’ She turned and flounced off across the shore towards the woodlands.

  ‘Viola, we don’t think you’re a Dibbun,’ Martin called after her. ‘All of us know that you’re a very brave young bankvole, but you’re not old enough yet to find your way through the woods alone. Wait for Log a Log to take you home.’

  Paws akimbo, Viola turned and glared at Martin. ‘I know my own way back to the Abbey, thank you! I don’t need a whole tribe of shrews to hold my paw. Goodbye!’ With her apron strings streaming out in the breeze, she strode resolutely off.

  Log a Log turned to Martin. ‘She’s a bold creature sure enough. But yore right, Martin, she’s far too young to be travelling on her own. Jesat and Teno, follow the little maid and see her safely back to Redwall. Talkin’ of which, I’m not lettin’ you go without extra help, matey. There’s two ’ere who’d be proud to sail with ye. Plogg, Welko!’ Two stout shrews leapt forward and joined the party in the shallows.

  Grath Longfletch looked them over approvingly, saying, ‘Are you sure you can spare two strong beasts like these, Log a Log?’

  Throwing a paw fondly about the shoulders of the two, Log a Log nodded at his otter friend. ‘These are my two sons. They can eat, fight, sail and sing like no other shrews I know of. They’ve pestered me ’alf the night to let ’em sail with ye. Haharr, anythin’ to avoid the iron-pawed discipline of their father, ain’t that right, buckoes?’

  Plogg nudged his father’s ribs playfully. ‘I’ll bring ye back a nice walkin’ stick, ole feller!’

  He ducked a hefty swipe from his parent, who was grinning proudly. ‘Gerroutofit, you tadpole, bring me back any walkin’ sticks an’ I’ll break ’em o’er yore tail. Take care of each other an’ our friends, you two, an’ always remember yore the sons of a Guosim Chieftain. Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do, ye blood puddens!’

  Welko stamped back ashore, his face serious. ‘I ain’t goin’ on no ship that don’t ’ave a name!’

  Log a Log folded both paws across his fat stomach. ‘Yore right, Welko. Ahoy, Grath, that’s why yore vessel’s ’ad so much bad luck, matey – she ain’t got a name. Wot are ye goin’ to call ’er? Dabby, bring some markin’ dye to paint a name on.’

  The big otter scratched her scarred head. ‘Hmm, a name. I’ve never given it much thought . . .’

  ‘Freebeast!’

  They all turned to look at Martin. He pointed at the vessel, and said, ‘We’re all freebeasts and we’re on a mission to free a good old beast, the Abbot of Redwall. So let her name be Freebeast!’

  As the tide began to swell a short ceremony was carried out in the mouth of the river. Every creature present was issued with a beaker of shrewbeer. Log a Log was lifted aboard the craft bearing two beakers, one in each paw. Standing in the prow he recited a Guosim boat-naming poem.

  ‘Whether she sails on river or sea,

  May the wind be always behind her,

  May she always be welcomed by friends like me,

  May the foebeast never find her.

  Let her crew hold the lives of each other dear,

  And avoid every sharp rock or reef,

  Good seasons and fates now listen and hear,

  Keep this gallant Freebeast from all grief!’

  Amid rousing cheers Log a Log poured one beaker over the prow and drank the other in a single swallow, along with everyone else. Martin and his friends tossed their weapons aboard and hauled themselves over the side. Grath took the tiller as Plogg and Welko hoisted the sail upon its new ashpole mast. Martin and Clecky stood for’ard, punting deep either side with the oars. Freebeast skimmed out of the river and into the open sea, her sail billowing bravely as she caught the wind and bucked head on into the first rollers. Clecky shipped his oar as Martin did. Standing upright, the five crew members of Freebeast held their weapons aloft and roared their warcries across the sunflecked waters to the Guosim on the shore.

  ‘Redwaaaaall! Eulaliaaa! Holt Lutraaaa! Logalogalogalog!’

  Seabirds wheeled overhead in the bright summer day. Framed against the cloudless blue above, the sun beat down on the strange three-hulled vessel as it ploughed the waves. On into the unknown deeps of the wild ocean, questing for Durral the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey. The voyage had begun!

  30

  SITTING
ON THE south walltop alongside her friends, Tansy looked upward to the north. ‘Well, what do you see?’ she said to Rollo.

  Gazing in the same direction, the old Recorder answered, ‘I see the south face of the Abbey building as you do. Anybeast see anything different?’

  Piknim and Craklyn began giggling, a sure sign that they were on to something. Rollo glared sternly over the top of his glasses at the Abbeymaids.

  ‘Well, I’m glad some creatures find the situation amusing. No doubt you are about to tell us something, when you are quite finished with your fit of the giggles.’

  Struggling to regain control of themselves, the pair responded, ‘Teeheehee! Er hrmph! Don’t you think we should be paying more attention to the next words of the poem, sir?’

  ‘Teehee! Craklyn says we look like four fledglings waiting to be fed. Heeheehee! Sitting on top of a wall with our heads up.’

  Tansy stifled a smile at the thought. Rollo unrolled the thin parchment rather huffily, spreading it on the walltop.

  ‘Ahem! Just as I was about to do,’ he said. ‘Now let me see.

  ‘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”.’

  Nodding to each other, Piknim and Craklyn gave the answer.

  ‘Another name for a home?’

  ‘A house!’

  ‘Who is our Abbey Warrior?’

  ‘Martin!’

  ‘Put them together and name me a little bird . . .’

  ‘House martin!’

  Tansy was about to speak when Rollo jumped in ahead of her. ‘North East South start N E S. The last thing in my heart is the letter T. Put them together and we have nest! We’re looking for a house martin’s nest!’

  Not to be outdone, Tansy swiftly added her contribution.

  ‘Below the mouth of a mouse looking south,

  All in a deserted dwelling.

  So sit o’er the maidenhair, gaze up north,

  And solve what my next words are telling.

  ‘Look, a small attic window, and see carved in the stone above it, I’ll wager that’s the head of a mouse. See!’

  Four pairs of eyes peered keenly up at the highest window on the north side of the Abbey. Sure enough, the arched apex of the stone was decorated with a carved head.

  Rollo polished his spectacles hard, blinking, and said, ‘Yes, it is a creature of some sort, but it’s too high up to tell what it is. The only way to be sure is to go up there . . .’

  Tansy tugged at the old Recorder’s sleeve to gain his attention. She pointed to the spot where Piknim and Craklyn had been sitting a moment before. ‘They’ve already gone. Come on, old friend, let’s follow.’

  She assisted the old bankvole down the wallsteps.

  ‘I wonder what the last one up there is this time?’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘A tottering tadpole or a boggled beetle?’

  The hedgehog maid smiled as they crossed the lawn. ‘I’d better not tell you, or you’d have Mother Auma send ’em to bed with no supper.’

  The high window in question was the one in Fermald’s attic. It was filled by a large chunk of translucent rock crystal. Tansy reached it by standing on the back of Fermald’s armchair. Craklyn climbed up to help her, whilst Rollo and Piknim held on to the battered old chair, steadying it.

  The hedgehog maid gave a cry of delight as she felt the lump of crystal move beneath her paw. ‘Haha! It’s not even cemented in. Mind your paws, Craklyn – look out below!’

  She pulled it loose; the crystal sent up a cloud of dust as it thudded onto the cushioned armchair seat. Craklyn crawled into the window space and poked her head out to look around.

  Piknim danced up and down with impatience. ‘Can you see the house martin’s nest, is the pearl there?’

  Only when Tansy and the squirrelmaid were safe back on the attic floor did Craklyn make her report. ‘Phew! I felt awfully dizzy looking out of the window. D’you realize how high up we are? But I could see the nest – it’s on a narrow stone parapet, wedged in a corner.’

  Rollo was obviously trying to keep calm as he asked the vital question. ‘Hmm, did you see the . . . er, pearl?’

  Craklyn perched on the chair arm, looking at her friends’ expectant faces, framed in the sunlit shaft from the window. ‘I saw the nest, a typical house martin dwelling, almost like a round ball with a small hole for an entrance. But I don’t think any birds have used it for some seasons. It looked empty.’

  Tansy nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Exactly as the rhyme says. “Below the mouth of a mouse looking south, all in a deserted dwelling.” The nest is the deserted dwelling. But the thing that really mystifies me is, how did a very old squirrel like Fermald manage to get the pearl into the nest?’

  Piknim clapped a paw to her mouth, but could not stop the giggle that bubbled forth. ‘Teeheehee! Ask mister Rollo, he’s pretty ancient. Heehee – he should know!’

  Quite unexpectedly, the old Recorder smiled and made a slight bow to the mousemaid. ‘Thank you, Piknim, nice to see you showing some respect for your elders. As a matter of fact the question puzzled me for a while. However, I think I know how Fermald managed to place the pearl in that house martin’s nest.’

  It was the three Abbeymaids’ turn to look surprised. Rollo seated himself in the armchair and explained in three words. ‘Fermald’s fishing rod!’

  Tansy clapped her paws in delight. ‘Of course! I’ll go and get it!’

  Craklyn lay in the window space, leaning outward, while Tansy and Piknim held tight to her footpaws as she fished for the nest. It was a lot simpler than they thought. With a triple-barbed hook attached to the line the nest was easily snagged. Craklyn reeled it up carefully, as Rollo paced the floor chatting away to himself, highly pleased with his own wisdom.

  ‘Quite basic, really. Fermald hooked the nest, reeled it up here, placed the pearl in it and lowered it back into position again. Hah! You can’t beat an old head on old shoulders!’

  Craklyn swung the nest inside, and Tansy caught it skilfully. Seasons ago a clever little house martin had formed the circular structure of grass, leaves and mud, leaving a round opening. She had probably used it several times to rear her eggchicks.

  Rollo grinned broadly at the three eager faces as he upended the nest and shook it.

  ‘Just as the rhyme says. “My fourth tear I shed, for the Abbey Redwall, laid where it never should hatch or fall.” Behold, here is our fourth pearl, young maids!’

  But only an acorn shell fell out onto the attic floorboards.

  In complete silence Tansy took the nest from Rollo. The hedgehog maid rummaged inside it with her paw, then she shook it and held it up to the light, her face a picture of disappointment. ‘There’s no pearl! It’s gone!’

  Piknim and Craklyn were both shocked. They too inspected the empty nest, but no amount of looking could conjure up a pearl that was not there. All four friends slumped on the attic floor totally dejected.

  Tansy picked up the acorn shell and looked closely at it. ‘This is an empty shell – it’s been cracked and stuck together again. See!’ She split the shell and drew forth the scrap of parchment which had been rolled up inside. ‘Here’s the clue to our fifth pearl, though I don’t intend opening or reading it until we find the fourth pearl. Agreed?’

  Rollo spoke for himself and the other two maids. ‘Agreed, it would not seem right. We must discover each pearl in the order that Fermald intended us to. Come on, cheer up, friends, we’ll discuss our next move after dinner.’

  Auma sat with Gerul and Skipper at the table in Great Hall. Late evening sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows onto a table that did full justice to the culinary skills of Redwall cooks. Neither beast had let injury blunt his appetite. With no great interest in the elderberry tart or the small beaker of plum cordial before her, the badger Mother turned to Skipper, saying, ‘No news of Martin and Clecky yet
?’

  The brawny otter looked up from his summer salad, took a draught of October Ale and wiped his mouth on the back of a paw. ‘I’m afraid not, marm, though I expect the otter patrol I sent out to be back with some information before dawn tomorrow. Who knows, may’ap they’ll bring Martin an’ Clecky with ’em, the Abbot an’ Viola too with any luck.’

  Auma sniffed hard, blinked back a tear and sighed. ‘Poor Durral and Viola. I hope they’re not still in the clutches of that foul lizard thing and those scurvy searats.’

  Gerul demolished a wedge of celery and mushroom turnover with all the ease of a seasoned trencherbeast. ‘Ah now, don’t be a worryin’ yerself over things y’can’t control, marm. Sure, as me ould mother always used t’say, ten seasons from now y’ll be wonderin’ wot you were bothered about today, if yer still around t’bother. Will y’look at ould Rollo an’ those young maids over there, they’ve got faces on them like frazzled frogs, so they have. Hi there, Tansy! Bring y’friends over here an’ join the Redwall worriers.’

  When the four friends had joined Auma, Skipper and Gerul, the owl applied himself back to a chunk of heavy fruit cake. ‘There now, aren’t we the grand ould miserable tablemates, what are you lot lookin’ so down in the whiskers about?’

  Tansy explained in detail about the house martin’s nest. Gerul listened carefully as he helped himself to Auma’s tart. ‘Hmm, so there was no pearl in the nest, eh? Well, wot d’yer suppose happened, did it fall out, have y’searched the grounds below the nest?’

  Rollo picked at a slice of apple pie. ‘Oh yes, we went over the ground below with a fine-tooth comb. There was no sign of anything resembling a pearl.’

  Gerul picked crumbs from his chest as he talked. ‘So, where in the name o’ faith d’ye think the pearl went?’

  Rollo pushed away his apple pie and shrugged. ‘How should I know?’

  The owl blinked his enormous eyes. ‘Tchah! Me ould mother wouldn’t be too pleased with you, Rollo. A beast of yore long seasons an’ wisdom not bein’ able to see wot’s starin’ ye in the whiskers. If the pearl never fell, then sure it was taken by somebeast or other, that’s clear enough!’