The Pearls of Lutra

by Brian Jacques

A green-flighted arrow stretched its length on Grath Longfletch’s bowstring; the supple yew arched back as her powerful paw pulled against the beeswaxed string. Dipping the arrowhead into the fire, she watched it burst into flame. Sighting swiftly as she brought up the bow, Grath gave an extra heave against the yew and fired.

  Zzzzzzzzssssssssttt!

  Like a burning comet the shaft sped upwards, bending in a long arc, down to the palace courtyard. It struck the first firebale, which went up with a dull whump into a blazing mass.

  As soon as the first arrow was in the air Grath had another one zipping viciously from her bowstring, followed by another and yet another. The fiery messengers sped off to find their targets.

  A Monitor pointed with his spear, hissing, ‘The firebalez, the f—’ and fell, clutching the green-flighted arrow which had slain him.

  Now Grath was moving, changing position. Some arrows she sent to slay Monitors, others to lay Wave Brethren low. The pandemonium she caused was instantaneous. Ublaz came roaring into the courtyard, lashing about with a spearhaft at the terrified lizards. ‘Pull those bales away, tip them over the wall, save my timber!’ he yelled.

  The tremendous woodpile, having lain in tropical dryness for long seasons, was going up like a bonfire. Panic-stricken lizards leapt away from the inferno and cowered back against the palace, their fearful eyes glittering in the firelight. Ublaz dashed to and fro like a madbeast, unable to get near his precious timber because of the pulsating heat of the flames.

  ‘Do something! Fetch water! Pull away the bits that aren’t burning! Get wet sailcloths and beat at the flames!’

  He rushed about belabouring the dull-witted Monitors until his spearhaft broke on their thick-scaled hides.

  Rasconza ducked behind his canvas awning, grabbing Buckla and Deddgutt as they passed. ‘Send some o’ those Trident-rats, see if they can find the swab who’s firin’ those green arrows afore any more crewbeasts are killed!’

  Baltur and Gancho wriggled up through the sand, keeping their heads low. Gancho pointed miserably at the blaze crackling high above the rear palace wall. ‘Lookit that, will yer, there goes our chance to repair the fleet!’

  Rasconza did not seem unduly worried. ‘Never fear, mates, as long as we got one ship that kin sail we can always bring wood to Sampetra. Pretty soon that wall’s goin’ to collapse under the ’eat o’ that blaze. Then we’ll march in there an’ drag Mad Eyes out. Muster the rest o’ the Brethren an’ tell ’em to stand ready.’

  Plogg jumped onto the jetty and secured Waveworm by a stern line. Martin had drifted her in backwards, so that they could cut and run at a moment’s notice. Night was falling fast, the palace up on the escarpment silhouetted by the fire that raged behind it. Clecky noted that the harbour area was still deserted and silent.

  Plogg watched his three friends climb down onto the jetty. ‘Let me go with you, Martin, I’m good with a shrew rapier.’

  Martin pointed sternly to the ship. ‘Sorry, but you know your orders. Now back aboard and have her ready to take off like an arrow the moment you see us coming back.’

  Crestfallen but obedient, the young Guosim shrew did as he was told.

  Before Martin, Clecky and Inbar were halfway across the harbour area, Grath popped out from behind a tavern and joined them.

  ‘All goin’ accordin’ to plan, mates,’ she said, nodding at the fireglow, ‘that little lot’s keepin’ ’em busy at the moment. Now for the palace!’

  They raced to the double wooden door at the top of a winding hill. Clecky sized it up before commenting, ‘How’s a chap supposed to get inside? Looks like we’re stumped!’

  Martin located the centre jamb and thrust his sword through it. ‘Lend a paw here, Inbar, it’s only a wooden bar across these doors holding them shut. When I give the word, lift the sword up hard.’

  The big otter gently ushered Martin aside and gripped the sword handle in both paws. ‘Not enough room for both of us to hold this handle, let me try.’ Bracing himself squarely on the stones, Inbar bent slightly; the long muscles on his sleek back stood out as he swept the swordblade up. There was a clunk from the other side and, as Inbar pushed the doors, they creaked and opened inward.

  Clecky nodded in admiration. ‘Good idea that, I was about to suggest it m’self, wot!’

  As they passed through the portals into the silent palace, Grath murmured in Clecky’s brass-ringed ear, ‘Remember, we’re searching for an Abbot, not a dining room!’

  Ublaz ’finally saw that the timber was hopelessly lost. As he peered through the flames, he also noticed a sagging dip in the walltop. Soon the rear wall would start to crumble, its mortar turned to dust and its stones cracked and burst by the constant searing heat of the blaze. There was only one option left now.

  ‘Retreat into the palace,’ he called to his Monitors. ‘The vermin will charge once the wall falls. Retreat and we’ll hold out there.’

  52

  IN HIS FEVERED dreams, Abbot Durral was helping to carry a table out into the orchard at Redwall Abbey. He imagined it was autumn and a harvest feast would be laid out under the trees. The old mouse rambled on deliriously.

  ‘Lift higher, Sister Cicely, we’ll never get it out over the doorstep. What a heavy table this is! Where’s everybeast gone?’

  A voice came through his fogged mind. ‘Father Abbot, ’tis your friend Martin!’

  Feebly, Durral squinted one eye open. ‘Ah, Martin, but which Martin are you?’

  With tears in his eyes, Martin cradled his old friend’s head. ‘Durral, it’s me, Martin!’

  Opening both eyes briefly, the Abbot smiled. ‘Yes, my son, but are you the Martin from the tapestry or my Martin who lives at Redwall? I can’t tell, you see.’

  The Warriormouse realized how ill the old fellow was. ‘I’m your friend Martin who lives at Redwall with all our Brothers and Sisters. I’ve come to help you, Father Abbot.’

  Durral lifted a wizened paw and stroked Martin’s face. ‘I knew you would. This table is so heavy and Cicely is too small to lift it. Will you help us, please?’

  Then Grath called urgently from the doorway she was guarding. ‘Hurry and get him out o’ here, mate, somebeast’s comin’!’

  Viola was first to spot the glow lighting the night sky from the southwest. ‘There goes the signal, burn the ships!’ she yelled to Welko.

  The shrew already had a fire lit in a brazier aboard Barranca’s former vessel, Freebooter. Holding five torches ready, he shouted back to Viola who was descending from the hilltop. ‘Hurry up, miss, get aboard Freebooter with me!’

  The bankvole did as she was bidden, though slightly mystified by the odd procedure. ‘We shouldn’t be hanging about aboard this craft,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to set fire to it. What are you up to, Welko?’

  The Guosim shrew indicated the other ships. ‘Those’re the ones I’m goin’ to burn, miss, they’re ole tubs, just like Waveworm. But this Freebooter, now this’s wot I call a real ship. Look at the lines o’ her, the beam, draught, sails. This craft’s a real flyer, nothin’ in all the seas could catch the spray of ’er wake when she’s in full sail, I’ll wager. We’ll burn the other five an’ wait fer them aboard this’un. Grath knows about ships, she’ll agree with me.’

  Viola thrust the five torches into the brazier. ‘I suppose you know best. Come on, we’ll go to the last vessel in line and make our way back here, setting fire to each ship as we go.’

  Inside the palace Martin rushed to the throne room door to help Grath. Backed by a score of Monitors, Ublaz was coming up the stairs. The pine marten had not expected anybeast to be inside his palace. On seeing Martin at the stairhead, waiting with drawn sword, Ublaz did a swift about turn. Pushing his way through the Monitors on the staircase, he cried, ‘It’s only a mouse and an otter, slay them! Charge!’

  The Warriormouse knew that to conquer the palace he must first deal with its ruler. Hurling himself down the stairs he roared, ‘Redwaaaaaaaallllll!’

  But Ublaz was go
ne and Martin found himself surrounded by lizards. With battle light blazing in his eyes and a warcry on his lips, the Warriormouse swung his mighty blade on the crowded staircase. Monitors crowded upon him, pushed forward by the momentum of those behind; teeth bared, tongues flickering, hissing viciously as they sought to bring their long spears into play. The fabled blade of Redwall whirled into them, hacking, scything and slashing through spearhafts.

  Grath stood quivering at the stairhead. ‘Martin, come back, I can’t get a clear shot with my arrows while yore down there. Fight yore way back!’

  Clecky sailed past her and went bounding down to Martin’s aid.

  ‘Eulaliaaaaaaa!’

  In a flash he was back to back with the Warriormouse, and they fought their way upward together. The hare’s huge scimitar matched Martin’s sword, blow for blow, as they struck at scaly flesh, ripping claws, snapping teeth and baleful reptilian heads. When they came within reach, Grath and Inbar hauled them up by the backs of their tunics. Martin’s eyes were glazed over with a red mist of battle fury. Inbar broke the spell by shouting into his face, ‘Go and take care of your Father Abbot!’

  From somewhere behind the Monitors, Ublaz could be heard bawling hoarsely, ‘Charge! Rip them to bits! Charge!’

  Long spears bristling, the Monitors pressed up the stairs. Grath Longfletch already had a green-plumed arrow on her bowstring. She glanced coolly at Inbar Trueflight. ‘Let’s see ’ow good y’are with those red-feathered shafts o’ yores, mate. Ready?’

  Though Inbar was frightened of the big lizards scrambling up the stairs towards them, he found himself suddenly pouring shaft after shaft into their ranks. He roared at the top of his lungs to match his companion’s warshout, and their cries mingled: ‘Ruddariiiiing! Holt Lutraaaaaaa!’

  Clecky held up the chain that was holding the Abbot fettered to the wall. ‘Confounded manacle, and we haven’t even got a blinkin’ key to release the poor old buffer!’

  Martin, still quivering for action and in the grip of a berserk rage, gritted his teeth savagely. ‘Keep your paws wide and hold that chain tighter!’

  Sssshraaaakkk!

  The great sword flashed once through the air, its momentum causing the steel to whine like a tornado through ice.

  Clecky stared at the severed chain hanging from his paws. ‘Great seasons o’ fur’n’famine! You don’t dally about when you swing that blade, old scout! Well done that warrior!’

  Rasconza had massed his vermin at the foot of a low hill. Weapons bristled around him like a field of corn.

  ‘Come on, buckoes,’ he cried, ‘let’s put Mad Eyes’ lights out!’

  A panicked screech rang out from Gancho on the hilltop. ‘Fire! Fire at the cove! Some dirty scum’s settin’ light to our fleet! Fire!’

  Like a wave, the vermin turned and swept up the hill. They jabbered and clamoured, pointing to the blazing red glow that lit up the night sky over the northwest inlet.

  ‘Gancho’s right, ’tis fire!’

  ‘Aye, an’ it could only be the ships!’

  ‘Right, mate, there ain’t nothin’ else that big to set up a light like that! ’Tis our fleet right enough!’

  Rasconza hurried uphill, his heart sinking within him at the sight. Struggling to keep calm, he tried reassuring his crews. ‘No, no, ’tis only the grass, mates. I’ll wager ole Crabsear an’ the others ’ave gone t’sleep full o’ grog an’ their campfire’s gone an’ spread a bit. ’Tis only the grass, I tell yer!’

  With drawn cutlass, Baltur faced the fox challengingly. ‘Wot d’yer take us for? We ain’t stupid, mate, an ’alf blind toad could see that’s our ships afire o’er there!’

  Buckla backed him up aggressively. ‘Aye, an’ without ships we ain’t corsairs or searats no more. You carry on believin’ yer own lies, fox, we’re goin’ t’save our fleet. Who’s with us?’

  A mighty roar of agreement went up. Before Rasconza had a chance to say another word the whole horde was off, whooping and yelling behind Baltur, Gancho and Buckla, heading overland for the northwest cove. Rasconza’s voice was lost in the din as he called after them, ‘Come back, y’fools, can’t yer see, we’ve got Mad Eyes cornered! Settin’ that fire was only a trick to draw us away from the palace! Come with me, we’ll make the villain pay for those ships with ’is blood!’

  Finding his pleas fell upon deaf ears, Rasconza turned, to find himself standing alone, except for Sagitar. He glared at her. ‘Why didn’t yer tell me Ublaz was plannin’ this? Yore a cap’n of Trident-rats, you shoulda known.’

  Seeing the vengeful expression on Rasconza’s face, Sagitar backed off, shaking her head. ‘I knew nought of any such plan, believe me!’

  Rasconza drew his dagger, advancing angrily. ‘You lie. I never shoulda trusted one o’ Mad Eyes’ Trident-rats. Yore a traitor an’ a turncoat, Sagitar, I knows yore kind. You’d betray me the same way you did Ublaz!’

  Sagitar brought up her trident, hefting it with menace. ‘Keep away from me, fox, there’s none more skilled with a trident than I am. I’ll spit ye like a fish in a barrel!’

  Rasconza turned as if to walk away. Then, spinning round with frightening suddenness, he hurled his knife.

  Sagitar stared in shock at the handle of the dagger that seemed to grow from her middle. She fell to the ground.

  Rasconza stood over her, chuckling. ‘Haharr, you might be skilled with yon trident, but nobeast can sling a blade like me. I never miss!’

  Sagitar’s lips moved. Rasconza leaned down to her. ‘Wot’s that y’say?’

  Still gripping her trident, Sagitar thrust it upward with a final effort. Gasping, she spoke her last words to the fox lying alongside her. ‘I said, I never throw my weapon away. I always keep hold of it!’

  But it was too late for Rasconza to hear her.

  Martin tore down a velvet wall hanging and wrapped the Abbot in it. The old mouse appeared to be sleeping contentedly since the appearance of his Abbey Warrior.

  Despite the rantings and shouting of Ublaz, the Monitors had retreated around the curve of the staircase, out of arrow range. Inbar found he could scarce contain himself from trembling all over now that the action had ceased. Grath patted his shoulder. ‘You did well, mate, we thinned their ranks a bit.’

  The big otter looked at his shaking paws. ‘I’m no good at this sort o’ thing. I was frightened.’

  Grath was already creeping downstairs to retrieve some arrows. She turned to her huge honest friend with a grin. ‘You were frightened? Matey, ’ow d’ye think I felt when I saw those flesh-eatin’ monsters chargin’ us? I couldn’t keep me teeth from chatterin’ to each other an’ me paws felt like jelly. We ’ad a good right t’be frightened, I can tell yer!’

  Clecky and Martin joined them at the stairhead for a council of war. The hare was not overly optimistic.

  ‘Righto, here’s the picture, chaps. These stairs are the only way up or down, and we’ve got to get the jolly old Abbot out o’ this palace an’ aboard the Wavethingy. Any suggestions?’

  Grath passed a bunch of arrows to Inbar. ‘We don’t know ’ow many more of those lizards are waitin’ downstairs, an’ the pine marten’s still commandin’ ’em. I can’t see ’im lettin’ us out o’ this place alive.’

  With a swift wrench, Martin pulled down another velvet wall hanging. ‘There’s one way. If we can get at Ublaz and slay him, I don’t think those lizards will have any heart left to fight. There’s enough of these velvet wall trappings to make a rope. If I take Clecky with me, we could reach the ground from that window, come back into the palace and attack them from behind. Grath and Inbar could charge down the stairs at them and we’d have ’em both ways. It’s a risky plan, I know, we’re outnumbered ten to one, but with the element of surprise on our side we could escape from here.’

  Inbar had a suggestion to make. ‘Can we not all escape by the window, Martin?’

  The Warriormouse shook his head. ‘Too steep, rocky and dangerous. Besides, there’s the Abbot. I still haven’t
figured how we’re going to get him out.’

  Inbar glanced over to where Durral was lying wrapped in velvet. ‘I’m the strongest here, leave him to me. We’ll carry out your original plan, Martin. When I attack with Grath I’ll sling the old mouse in that velvet hanging across my back.’

  Clecky began knotting the wall hangings together. ‘Righty ho, crew, let’s get movin’, wot!’

  Aboard the Freebooter, Viola and Welko had pushed off. Once away from the five burning ships, they dropped anchor in a safe position. Viola made a quick search of the vessel, and emerged from the galley to announce, ‘Well, there’s plenty of supplies aboard.’

  Welko silenced her with a wave of his paw. ‘Quiet, miss, lissen, can y’hear anythin’?’

  Yelling madly, the searats and corsairs breasted the covetop and came pouring downhill towards the inlet. They stood in the shallows, their cries dying away into silence, faces registering horror in the ruddy glow of the firelight. Ships’ timbers crackled and bellied, sails and rigging sent off black ash smuts like dark bats, to flit about on the breeze. Cascades of sparks and burning pitch shot skyward into the night. The entire scene was mirrored like a fiery portrait in the still-dark waters of the cove.

  Gancho bellowed like a wounded beast, ‘Waaaaaah! They’re burnin’, our ships’re burnin’, mates!’ Throwing himself down in the shallows, he kicked and beat the water, bawling aloud like a babe in a tantrum.

  Buckla stepped out of the firelight as far as he could and peered into the blackness until his eyes became accustomed to it. ‘Haharr, mates, see! There’s Barranca’s ole craft, the Freebooter, sittin’ out there as fancy as y’please with not a mark on ’er!’ Pulling off his seaboots and tossing aside sword and belt, he plunged deeper into the water, shouting, ‘Let’s swim out to ’er! Firstbeast to clap a paw aboard o’ Freebooter ’as the right to call ’isself cap’n!’

  Ridding themselves of all encumbrances, searats and corsairs flung themselves into the water and began striking out for the ship which was riding at anchor on the swell.