The Pearls of Lutra

by Brian Jacques

  Gurrbowl, Diggum and Arven were in the kitchens, loading up a procession of Redwallers with food to take out to the pond’s edge. Diggum made sure Tansy was well laden.

  ‘Yurr, marm, ee be a gurt strongbeast, you’m be taken this cheese an’ yon breads, cummon, ’old out ee paws!’

  ‘I can’t!’ Tansy protested vigorously. ‘I’m already carrying a meadowcream trifle, a pear flan and a stack of mint wafers, any more and I’ll drop something.’

  The molebabe stared severely at Tansy and balanced a loaf on her head. ‘Thurr, doan’t run now an’ coom straight back yurr, oi’ve lots more for ee t’carry, hurr aye!’

  Tansy hid a smile from the bossy molebabe. ‘A slavedriver, that’s what you are, Diggum.’

  Arven prodded her none too gently. ‘Keep a movin’ y’likkle maggit, you ’oldin’ up d’line!’

  Tansy tottered, trying to keep her load balanced. ‘Yowch! You fiendish infant, what’s that you’re prodding me with?’

  Arven waggled the implement under her nose threateningly. ‘It my whip, now keepa goin’ or y’get more prodders!’

  Hurriedly Tansy unloaded her burdens onto a table and made a grab at Arven’s whip. ‘That’s Fermald’s old fishing rod. The rod!’

  Rollo let go of a heavy cheese he was rolling; it trundled off alone across the kitchen floor. ‘What rod?’

  Tansy showed it to him proudly. ‘This rod, Fermald’s old favourite. Think of the rhyme, travel east, six rods from the tip. When we do have to travel east I’ll wager this is the rod we measure off with!’

  The Recorder of Redwall chased off after his cheese, calling, ‘Well done, miss, it looks like things are coming together a bit!’

  Firelight and full moon reflected in the waters of Redwall Abbey pond. Every creature sat upon the sandy bank, leaving the food untouched until Auma had finished speaking.

  ‘Friends, Redwallers all, let us not forget in the midst of this summer night’s festivities, the names of our good Father Abbot Durral and young Viola bankvole. May the season protect them from harm wherever they may be this hour. Let us also keep in mind our Abbey Warrior, Martin. He and Clecky, with the sons of Log a Log and the otter Grath are probably out on the great waters, searching for Abbot Durral to bring him back safely home to our Abbey; and Rangapaw and her brave crew are ranging in the woods, still hunting for poor Viola. Let us wish them success in their endeavours. Strong hearts and true companions!’

  Every voice echoed Auma’s last words, ‘Strong hearts and true companions.’

  Arven flung a piece of fruit cake in the pond. ‘Anna likkle supper for d’big fish who live down der!’

  A silvery flash followed by a faint splash told them that the female grayling had taken the squirrelbabe’s offering. The Redwallers took this as a good omen, and cheered.

  Gerul sat with Skipper, Foremole and Higgle. The greedy owl grabbed the remainder of the fruit cake Arven had broken to feed the fish, saying, ‘Ah, now, don’t be givin’ any more vittles to that scaly divvil, ’twill only make it fat an’ lazy. Here, Skipper, would y’pass a pore bird some o’ that woodland pudden, it might do me broken wing a power o’ good, so it might. Foremole, pour the October Ale, will yer, before we all die o’ the drought!’

  Higgle laughed at the irrepressible owl as he set his talons on a chestnut and mushroom flan. ‘Hoho! Is there anythin’ I can do for ye, sir, may’aps you’d like me to wipe yore beak in between bites?’

  Gerul widened his great eyes at the Friar. ‘Ah sure there’s no need fer that kind o’ talk, me good feller, but seein’ as y’sittin’ there doin’ nothin’, why not gerrout that hogtwanger thing o’ yores an’ play us a tune? As me ould mother used t’say, y’can play dead, play sick or play yer friends false, but y’better playin’ a tune if y’can carry one.’

  Higgle produced the curious instrument and began tuning it on his headspikes. ‘I’ll play if you sing. D’you know “Trees o’ the Wood”?’

  Clearing his beak with a draught of October Ale, Gerul nodded. “Tis an ould ditty Clecky an’ meself sang together as a trio.’

  Craklyn grinned. ‘The two of you must have sounded amazing as a trio. You start, sir, and I’ll take the alternate line. Ready, one, two . . .’

  The hogtwanger struck up and the pair sang with a will.

  ‘Abroad I strolled in the forest one day,

  I walked till me paws were sore weary,

  I heard an ould mistle thrush close by me say,

  “O here’s to the woodland so cheery!

  There’s ash and beech and rowan and oak,

  Weepin’ willow with leaves trailin’ down O,

  Many rowans I’ve known full o’ berries when grown,

  And laburnum that wears a gold crown O.

  So of all the trees growin’ here in the wood,

  Tell me which is the finest and best, sir,

  I’ll find that one ere springtime is gone,

  And I’ll surely build me a nice nest there.

  There’s cedar and elm and hornbeam and yew,

  Sycamore buckthorn and alder so fine,

  Sweet chestnut and fir and shrub elder where,

  Grow dark berries on which I can dine.

  Aye I’ll find a stout tree for to make a safe nest,

  Just like a good-livin’ bird should,

  Then me chicks will all fly and just like I,

  Seek a tree for themselves in the wood!”’

  There was great applause, for ‘Trees o’ the Wood’ is a fast and difficult song, but neither the owl nor the squirrelmaid missed a note.

  Then Higgle played whilst the Dibbuns got up and did a Beedance. Huge roars of laughter greeted the Abbeybabes as they buzzed about, whirring their paws and jabbing the air with stubby tails.

  Sister Cicely retired early to her bed in the infirmary, and this gave Brother Dormal the opportunity of doing his tongue-twister.

  ‘If Sister Cicely serves some soup,

  She’ll surely see some sup it,

  Sip that soup if you’re sick,

  Swig it swift sure and slick,

  Should it set stiff’n’slimy, then suck it.

  If Cicely suspects that such soup has been scorned,

  She’ll slip slyly and even the score,

  So if Sister persists, woe to him who resists,

  Cicely’s certain to serve him some more.’

  Auma held a huge paw across her mouth as she shook with laughter. Teasel upbraided Dormal playfully. ‘Tut tut, Brother, ’tis just as well the good Sister went t’bed early. Let’s ’ope the young ’uns don’t learn yore rhyme, or they’ll be recitin’ it in Cicely’s presence, if’n I knows Dibbuns.’

  Dormal fiddled with the rope girdle of his habit, slightly chastened. ‘But ’tis all in good fun, I mean the Sister no real disrespect. Besides, any Redwaller who thinks they can get their tongue around my twister will have to think again if they try!’

  The perfect summer night continued happily. Wullger the otter was giving his hopskip jig when Tansy and Craklyn noticed old Rollo dozing off. They nudged him.

  ‘Come on, Rollo, this is no time for napping, we’ve got work to do in Great Hall. Let’s slip away quietly, shall we?’

  Noiselessly the three friends padded into the Abbey’s vast main chamber. It was deserted and so silent they felt obliged to converse in whispers. Whilst Rollo set flint to tinder lighting a lantern, Tansy and Craklyn gazed around. Dark shadowy niches and recesses gave way to patches of soft multicoloured light where the moon beamed through long stained glass windows. Looking up towards the high polished ceiling beams gave both Abbeymaids a feeling of insignificance in the massive hall.

  Rollo had the lantern lit; in its golden glow he spread the parchment on an empty dining table. ‘Now, where to begin? Have you got Fermald’s fishing rod, Tansy?’

  The hedgehog maid went to the tapestry, and from behind it she produced the rod. ‘I put it there this afternoon – Martin’s been keeping it safe for me. Read the rhym
e again, Craklyn.’

  The squirrelmaid did not need to read, she knew the rhyme off by heart because she had repeated it so often.

  ‘“My sixth and last tear I give unto you” . . . by that I take it Fermald means us three, the searchers. Then, “When Redwallers lie abed”. Well, in normal circumstances they’d all be in their beds now, save for the fact they’re holding a moonlight feast outside. See, these next two lines, here’s where the puzzle really starts. “At midnight see, in full moon view, the purple arrowhead.”’

  Lantern light glinted off Rollo’s spectacles as he shook his head. ‘There it is again, that confounded purple arrowhead. But where do we find it?’

  Tansy had a sensible suggestion. ‘Let’s split up. I’ll take one end of the hall, Craklyn, you take the other. Rollo, you can search the centre, here.’

  Step by step Tansy combed the far end of Great Hall, around sandstone columns, inspecting every stick of furniture, feeling wall hangings and peering behind them, even scrambling onto low window ledges to check the sills thoroughly. Her search proved fruitless. Then the moon went behind a cloud. Tansy could see the small golden pool made by Rollo’s lantern in the dimness, and she made her way towards it. The old Recorder was inspecting the east wall, unaware that the hedgehog maid was behind him. He was at the edge of a passage leading off the hall when Tansy’s voice cut the silence shrilly.

  ‘Rollo, stop where you are, don’t move!’

  The Recorder froze, wondering if he was in any danger. Behind him he heard Tansy calling out, ‘Craklyn, come and see this!’

  Leaving off her search, the squirrelmaid came scurrying up, not knowing what to expect. Tansy was pointing to the back of Rollo’s robe, just below the old bankvole’s neck.

  ‘What d’you think of that?’

  Craklyn gasped in surprise. Beaming faintly luminescent purple, a perfectly shaped arrowhead was formed on the Recorder’s back.

  Rollo could stand the suspense no longer. He turned around to face them, and demanded, ‘What is it? What’s all the excitement about?’

  Tansy was still pointing. ‘Look at the front of your robe, it’s there now!’

  Rollo stared down at the purple arrowhead of light. ‘Hah! So ’tis, it must reflect on this wall when I’m not standing here, like this . . .’

  He moved a pace to one side, leaving the spectral thing shining softly upon the wall. Adjusting his spectacles, Rollo stared upward to the apex of two curves at the top of a long narrow side window on the west wall, high above the tapestry.

  ‘I thought so, it’s the moonlight coming through that window, see, where it is pointed at the top like an arrowhead. The glass is reddish during the day, but in the moonlight it appears purple.’

  Craklyn giggled; the whole thing struck her as rather funny. ‘And you couldn’t see the arrowhead because it was on your back!’

  Tansy had Fermald’s fishing rod ready. ‘Travel east six rods from the tip, that’s what the rhyme tells us. We’re at the east wall, the only way we can go further east is down this passage!’

  Rollo stared down the darkened passageway. ‘This only goes off to the cellars, but let us see how far six rodlengths will take us.’

  He held the lantern high whilst Tansy and Craklyn measured off six lengths of the fishing rod at the same height on the wall as the arrowhead. At the end of six lengths there was a wall decoration carved in relief standing out from the stone: a single rose on a long stem rising up from the floor.

  Craklyn ran her paw over it. ‘There it is, pals, the rose that blooms ever fair, summer or winter. It doesn’t matter what the season, this rose still stands halfway down the passage, carved from stone, blooming eternally. It’ll never shrivel or lose a single petal.’

  Rollo stifled a yawn. Despite the excitement he was starting to feel drowsy. ‘Yes, very poetic, missie, extremely touching. Now will you be kind enough to get on with the next clue. When you’ve seen as many seasons as I have you’ll understand the value of a bed!’

  Craklyn repeated the last two lines of the rhyme. ‘“See if you can find the right hip, turn west and you’re halfway there.”’

  Tansy seemed to be performing some kind of awkward dance step.

  Rollo held up the lantern and peered at her curiously. ‘What in the name of fur and feathers d’you think you’re up to?’ he said.

  The hedgehog maid continued with her strange manoeuvre. ‘Well, I’ve found my right hip and now I’m turning west, why?’

  The old Recorder slid down the wall into a sitting position. ‘Oh, nothing, you continue with your dance. Craklyn and I will concentrate on the carving. See, halfway up the stem is a leaf either side, and beneath each leaf is carved a rosehip . . .’

  Tansy stopped her quaint movements. ‘Rosehips?’

  Rollo nodded. ‘Aye, rosehips, you know, those round things the size of a plum, tapered at one end. You’d usually see them after the roses have bloomed and faded, we make rosehip syrup from them!’

  Craklyn grasped the rosehip on the right side of the stem. ‘Shall I turn it to the west and see what happens?’ she asked breathlessly.

  Rollo smiled wearily. ‘Please do, miss!’

  Craklyn turned the rosehip. It budged slightly, but nothing else happened. She turned to Tansy. ‘What d’you think I should do now?’

  The hedgehog maid bounded forward. ‘Keep turning as hard as you can, and I’ll give it a good shove!’

  As Craklyn struggled to turn the stone protrusion a bit more, Tansy hurled herself at the wall. Her body struck the stone, and a portion of it began moving inward. She pushed harder; this time it made a grating noise and opened completely.

  The three friends found themselves staring into a small dark room. Picking up the lantern from the floor, Craklyn entered; Tansy and Rollo followed her in. They moved together towards the room’s single piece of furniture, a small angler’s stool made from canvas and strips of wood. On the seat of the stool, the lantern light revealed a tiny box made from yew wood.

  Rollo picked it up and opened it.

  47

  IT WAS STILL dark, humid and windless. The Hawm of the sealfolk gave a quick flick of his head and tossed the rope he had been pulling back into the logboat. Martin and his crew had been standing ready for hours, since the first glimpse of Sampetra loomed upon the night horizon.

  Clecky leapt overboard into the shallows. ‘So this is the place, eh,’ he said, his voice booming from the high hills surrounding them. ‘Jolly good work, you sealchaps!’

  Martin was alongside him swiftly, his paw clamping tight over the hare’s mouth. ‘Keep your voice down! No need to advertise our arrival!’

  Inbar Trueflight held a brief conversation with the seal king before joining Grath and Martin on the sandy beach of a small cove where they had landed. ‘The Hawm can no longer help us now. He is worried about the young ones of his tribe being in these waters; they are leaving.’

  Martin bowed, clapping his paws gently at the seal king. ‘Gittarra, Haaaaaaawm! Manyahooday!’

  Blinking his dark round eyes, the seal king snuffled gently. ‘Manyahooday, Haaaaaaaaawm Ma’tan!’

  There was a quick flurry of water and the sealfolk disappeared into the nightdarkened seas.

  Standing on the hilltop overlooking the cove, Martin issued instructions to his crew.

  ‘There’s still a few hours left until dawn; we’d better take a look around. I think we’ve landed on the east side of this island, so we’ll meet back here at noon. Inbar, Grath, you take Viola with you, travel northwest and see what you can find. Clecky, Plogg, Welko, come with me, we’ll travel southwest. I’ve no need to tell you all to be careful, travel silent and stay low. Make your way back here by following the coastline. That way we’ll have covered most of the island between us. Any questions?’

  ‘Ahem, er, what time’s food at, old scout?’

  Martin shook his head in bewilderment at the irrepressible hare. ‘Clecky, stop thinking of how to keep your stomach full and
give a little thought to keeping your skin in one piece.’

  The hare saluted smartly, dipping both ears. ‘Forget jolly old tum, keep skin in one piece. Gotcha, sah!’

  They split off into two groups and set off across the island.

  Ublaz Mad Eyes was worried. His hopes of getting reinforcements on Waveworm’s return were dashed. All his force consisted of now was less than threescore Monitors, since random sniping from the Wave Brethren had accounted for several lizards who had been slain by arrows and spears. The time for talking was gone – there would be no further communication with Rasconza, no more double-dealing. It was war to the finish, and now Ublaz was under siege, a virtual prisoner in his own palace.

  Ublaz strode across his throne room to the corner where he had chained the Abbot and watched him. Durral tugged feebly at the manacled chain that hung from a ring in the wall. He was lying on a bed of rushes, a bowl of water and a piece of dried fish nearby. Still delirious, the old mouse rambled on, half conscious and unaware of both his surroundings and the pine marten who stood over him.

  ‘Wullger, will you help me and Brother Dormal? All this fruit has to be gathered in before winter, and it’s frosty already, I can feel the cold. Let go of my footpaw, little one, we must harvest all that good fruit from our orchard before it perishes.’ He continued tugging at the chain that held his footpaw.

  Ublaz turned callously away, and went to lean on the window sill.

  ‘Less than threescore lizards and a crazy old mouse,’ he muttered to himself, ‘one ship and not a searat under my command. Oh, Rasconza, fox, give me time to think and I will dance upon your grave!’

  Striding regally over to a burnished metal mirror plate set in the wall, Ublaz stared at his reflection. The strange eyes narrowed and widened alternately as his voice rose shrilly.

  ‘I am Lord of the Oceans, Emperor of Sampetra, I, Ublaz! If I had the Tears of all Oceans now, they would be set in my crown, all six of them, wondrous rose-coloured pearls! I would don my green silk mantle, or maybe the black one with gold trim. Then I would walk out among those tavern rats, those wavescum! I would stare at them, snare them with my gaze! Then they would bow to me, salute me, because they would know who I am. Ublaz!’