The Legend of Luke

by Brian Jacques

  Martin sat there a long time, staring at the spot where sunlight ended in seagreen haze. From that beaded bag he took a stone, a rounded, medium-sized pebble, banded with various colours. The sort his father might have picked up from the beach, long ago, and brought back to the cave for his wife or little son. Martin held it awhile, until the stone took on warmth from his paws. Then he dropped it gently into the sea, watching it sink rapidly from sight into the depths.

  ‘This is for you, my father, from Sayna, the wife you lost, and Martin, the son you strove to return to. But I have made good your promise, I returned to find you. Ranguvar Foeseeker, I know not if you had any family, but you have two friends for ever. Luke the Warrior and Martin of Redwall. I will carry your memories in my heart.’

  Martin left the tall rock then, with the seas still booming in his ears as they broke against it. In all his life he never went back to that place. On the next ebb tide the skiff Honeysuckle sailed away from Tall Rocks, bound south for Redwall.

  Skipper of Otters craned his head back, staring up into the pale blue summer mom. Bella the Badgermother of Redwall waited patiently, already knowing what her burly friend’s question would be.

  ‘Of course I can tell the squirrels to set up more scaffoldin’ at the south end, marm, but why, pray?’

  Bella spread her paws wide, as if the answer were obvious. ‘Because summer is nearly done and autumn will soon be here.’

  Sitting back on his powerful tail, the big otter shrugged. ‘Huh, ’fraid you’ve lost me, marm. What difference will that make? Autumn always follered summer, ’tis the way o’ the seasons. What’s that got t’do with scaffoldin’?’

  Bella sat beside him, fiddling with the strings of her apron. ‘Mayhap ’tis just a foolish fancy of mine, Skip, but I’d like to see the south gable built right up as far as it will reach. According to Abbess Germaine and Martin’s plans, that’s where the weather vane will be, at the highest point.’

  Columbine approached them and sat down, unfolding a clean white linen cloth to reveal a scone still warm from the window ledge where it had lain to cool. ‘Taste that and tell me what you think?’

  Breaking it in two, she gave them a piece each. Bella inspected the pastry, sniffing it appreciatively.

  ‘Smells wonderful. I can see chopped nuts and bits of crystallised honey in there, but tell me, why is the scone pink?’

  ‘Because it’s a Redwall Abbeyscone,’ the pretty mousewife explained. ‘I used wild cherry juice in the mix, to give it the colour of our walls. I plan on making them in the shape of the sandstone blocks we’ve used to build our Abbey with. D’you like them, Skip?’

  The otter had bolted his piece in one great mouthful, and now he picked crumbs from his whiskers and nibbled them.

  ‘Very tasty, Columbine marm, exceedin’ nice! But yore goin’ t’need a big oven to bake ’em big as sandstone blocks.’

  Columbine gave Skipper a playful shove. ‘Oh, you great puddenheaded riverdog, they’ll only be little scones, baked in the shape of the big stones!’

  The ofter Chieftain scratched his head. ‘Aye, marm, seems I can’t get a thing right t’day. D’you know why autumn follows summer, an’ that’s why the squirrels must build more scaffoldin’, so that we can build the south gable end up to its peak with a weather vane atop? ’Cos I’m blowed if’n I do, ole pudden’ead that I am!’

  Columbine hugged Bella’s huge paw. ‘Oh, what a lovely, wonderful idea! Our south gable built high, with a weather vane sticking up on it. When my Gonff comes marching down the path with Martin and Dinny and Trimp, why, they’ll be able to see it from a great distance. How nice!’

  A slow smile spread across Skipper’s face as the reason for Bella’s request dawned upon him.

  ‘Haharr, so that’s it! Swoggle me rudder, why didn’t I think o’ that?’

  He fell backward as Bella and Columbine tugged his footpaws, chuckling aloud as they chorused together, ‘’Cos you’re a great puddenheaded old riverdog!’

  Bella made the announcement right after breakfast. It was wholeheartedly supported by all the creatures of Redwall.

  Lady Amber added to the excitement. ‘An excellent idea. I’ll get my squirrels to work straight away on the scaffolding. Though ’twill take most of the day erecting it up on the south end, so here’s what I suggest. Friends, you’ve worked hard and long all summer, why not have a day’s rest? Perhaps a picnic by the pond can be arranged for early evening. We’ll have finished the scaffolding by then, so we’ll be able to join you. First thing tomorrow everybeast can pitch in and we’ll really go to work and top off that south gable. How’s that?’ Rousing cheers greeted the Squirrelqueen’s scheme.

  Ferdy and Coggs, the hedgehog Cellarkeepers, trundled barrels, kegs and casks out of the main Abbey door on to the lawn. Baby Gonflet was waiting with his gang of Dibbuns, all armed with wedge stones and prodding sticks. Coggs narrowed his eyes. ‘Wot are you up to, Gonflet, ye liddle wretch?’

  Gonflet waved his barrel-prodding stick dismissively. ‘You’n’Ferd go now, Cogg, us take these barrels down to a pond. Not wurry, us good barrel rollers!’

  Coggs exchanged glances with his twin brother. ‘Wot d’ye reckon, Ferdy, shall we let ’em?’

  Ferdy smiled at the Dibbuns, who were dancing about and waving their sticks eagerly.

  ‘Aye, they got to learn sometime, I s’pose. But roll that big barrel o’ strawberry fizz slow now, Gonflet, an’ go easy with those firkins o’ elderberry wine. An’ the rest of ye, stay be’ind the barrels all the way, don’t go runnin’ in front. We don’t want yore mammas after our blood ’cos you’ve been run down by some keg or cask!’

  Bella walked by, followed by a group of Redwallers carrying canvas and poles.

  ‘We’ll make a good leanto,’ the Badgermother was saying, ‘it’ll provide shade for the food and the elders can rest there. Mayberry, will you and Catkin get a trolley, line it with blankets and fetch Abbess Germaine down to the pond? Go easy with her, please – remember, she’s very old and frail.’

  Mayberry and Catkin, the two ottermaids, bobbed curtsies to Bella and trotted off, feeling very important.

  Columbine supervised the kitchens, bringing order and calm to the bustle of cooks and helpers. ‘Clear those window ledges of scones now, we need room for the turnip and parsley flans to cool. Miz Woodspike, would you like to top those blackberry tarts off with meadowcream? I don’t know anybeast who does it as neat as you do. Mister Pitclaw, could you help me to get the oatloaves out of the ovens, please? Oh, and tell your moles we need more charcoal to heat that back oven for cheese and mushroom flans. No, don’t worry about your deeper’n ever pie, I’ll watch it whilst you are gone. Now, let me see, strawberry shortcake, rhubarb crumble, leek and onion turnovers, deep apple pie, is that everything? Oh dearie me, I’ve forgotten the salad!’

  A fat bewhiskered bankvole broke in on Columbine’s musings. ‘Never fret, missus, I been choppin’ salad an’ mixin’ it since hard after brekkist, ’tis just about made. Gurbee, did we remember to pick some fennel?’

  A jolly-looking mole dug both claws into his apron pocket, rocking back and forth as he announced, ‘Hurr, you’m may ’ave furgitted ee fennyel, zurr, but oi bain’t, oi gurtly loiks moi salad well fennyelled. Burr aye!’ Beamingly he pointed to a sizeable pile of fennel.

  Lady Amber stood high up on the south gable, heading the line of squirrels passing up thick yew scaffolding poles to others, with knives held in their teeth and lengths of stout cord draped over their shoulders. They chatted away nonchalantly, clinging by tails and paws from their perilous positions. Below them the lawns of Redwall Abbey looked like a series of green kerchiefs.

  ‘Chuck me that big ’un with the forked top, Barko, aye, that’s the one. Ashtwig, grab this end while I tie it off to the main platform. Pass more cords up, will ye!’

  Swift and sure they toiled away, with a clear blue sky above and a breathtaking void beneath them.

  ‘Looks nice’n’cool d
own by that pond, they’re puttin’ a leanto up, see.’

  ‘Aye, an’ lookit, there’s miz Columbine an’ the others, carryin’ trays o’ vittles from the Abbey. What’s that noise?’

  ‘My tummy, mate. Mmmm, I can almost smell cheese’n’mushroom flans from up here. Hope they don’t start afore we get down.’

  ‘If you don’t cut the gab an’ tie off that pole we’ll be up here come this time t’morrow. Shape yoreself, matey!’

  Mayberry and Catkin delivered Abbess Germaine to Bella, who was waiting beneath the canvas awning. Both the young ottermaids bobbed another curtsy together.

  ‘Here she is, safe’n’sound, miz Bell!’

  ‘Snug as a bug in a rug with all those cushions an’ blankets, miz Bell. We was very very careful with ’er, marm.’

  Twinkle-eyed, the ancient Abbess peered out of the trolley. ‘Mm, mm, if they’d pushed me any slower we would’ve stopped. Two snails passed us on the way, would y’believe!’

  Both ottermaids’ lower lips began to tremble. Abbess Germaine chuckled, nodding fondly at them. ‘Mmm, mm, now don’t fret, little maids, I was jesting. An old fogey like me couldn’t ask for more gentle or better care than you two showed to me. Cheer up now!’

  Bella ruffled the ears of both affectionately. ‘That’s why I sent them. Mayberry and Catkin are my two best and most trusted helpers. Run along now, you two.’

  Smiling and curtsying, they prepared to skip off.

  ‘Thankee, miz Bell, nice t’be of service to ye!’

  ‘An’ you too, Mother Abbess, just call if’n you needs us!’

  Germaine was a bit warm. She shrugged off the blankets as she watched the two ottermaids looking for others to assist.

  ‘Such good little things, Bella, a credit to Redwall, eh?’

  ‘I’ll say they are. They’re both Skipper’s granddaughters, y’know. I was only saying to him the other day— Yaaaah! Look out! Everybeast out of the waaaaaay!’

  Amid squeaks of dismay and a great bumping and rumbling, Bella seized both Abbess and trolley. Heaving them up in her strong paws, she dashed from the leanto, not a moment too soon. Gonflet and his Dibbuns had let Coggs and Ferdy’s cellar stock get away from them. Down the slope a thundering stampede of kegs, barrels, firkins and casks leaped, bounced and spun. In their wake came Gonflet and his gang of little Abbey creatures, hallooing and whooping wildly.

  Bella ducked, covering the Abbess with her body as a keg of pennycloud cordial bounced and whizzed by overhead, missing the badger’s ears by a whisker. In a trice the leanto was levelled, flattened to the ground. In a resounding boom of splashes the picnic drinks in their oaken containers hit the pond’s surface, drenching everybeast within range in a cascade of pondwater.

  Dripping from ears to tail, Bella turned to the saturated gang of Dibbuns. Gonflet grinned from ear to ear, pointing with his stick at the array of floating barrels bobbing about in the pond.

  ‘All go’d too fast t’stop, miz Bell. But pond keep d’drinks nice an’ cool, I fink!’

  Bella could not be angry in the face of the little fellow’s irresistible charm, though she hid a smile and tried to sound stern.

  ‘I knew a young mouse one time who was just like you, a scamp, a rascal and a complete pickle!’

  Gonflet pawed water from his eye, wrinkling his nose as he stared up at the big Badgermother. ‘Wot was him name, miz Bell?’

  The huge striped muzzle lowered, until it was level with Gonflet’s face. ‘If I recall rightly, his name was Gonff!’

  This sent the tiny mouse off into tucks of laughter. Waving his stick he raced off with his Dibbun gang, shouting, ‘Heeheehee! Jus’ wait I tell my daddy. You a scamp! Raskill! Pickler! That wot miz Bell call you. Heeheehee!’

  Creakily Abbess Germaine emerged from the swathe of blankets and cushions in her trolley. She began sorting out poles from the pile of collapsed canvas.

  ‘Hmm, mmm, ’tis some long seasons since I built a leanto. Lend a paw here, Bella, come on!’

  The Badgermother sighed as she dragged the canvas aside. ‘Gonflet was right, though, the pond will keep those barrels nice and cool on a day like this, Mother Abbess!’

  That evening the picnic was a huge success. Lady Amber and her squirrels skipped nimbly down the scaffolding, navigating the sheer walls as if they were on level ground, singing as they descended.

  ‘The dull old ground is not for me,

  I can’t stand it somehow,

  Leave me in a good stout tree,

  Upon a knotty bough!

  ’Tis hey ho and up we go,

  Above the ground we dwell,

  Where every leaf’n’twig we know,

  And every branch right well!

  A squirrel a squirrel so nimble,

  Can climb most anywhere,

  A tail in a tree is a symbol,

  That I’m at home up there!

  So ash oak rowan or pine,

  Stately elm or beech,

  They’re all fine, they’re all mine,

  They’re all within my reach!’

  Whilst the Redwallers made merry, otters fished the barrels of drink from the pond. Gonflet and his Dibbun gang had everybeast roaring with laughter as they performed a dramatic re-enactment of the barrel incident. Skipper held his sides to stop them aching, tears of helpless merriment streaming from his eyes, as a small mole, acting a barrel of dandelion and burdock cordial, tumbled downhill into the pond. Columbine hauled him out and attempted to give the tiny creature a strict lecture, but was unable to do so because she collapsed laughing.

  Lanterns were lit at the pond’s edge when evening shadows deepened, the still water reflecting their glow. Mayberry and Catkin performed a graceful dance to the accompaniment of Ferdy and Coggs on drum and fiddle, playing a time-honoured favourite called ‘Bide in the Rushes’. Columbine left off serving drinks, and sat eating pensively. Abbess Germaine watched her closely.

  ‘An acorn for your thoughts, my dear.’

  Columbine recovered herself as Gonflet hurled himself into her lap. ‘What? Oh, er, sorry, Mother Abbess, I was in a bit of a daze. I was just thinking how much I miss Gonff – Martin and Dinny too, of course. I wish autumn would hurry and they’d return to Redwall.’

  Gonflet yawned and looked up at his mother. ‘I want my daddy. When it be h’autumn, mamma?’

  The dancing had stopped, and all eyes turned on Columbine. Gonflet’s lids began drooping as she stroked his head and softly recited an old poem.

  ‘Round the seasons slowly turning,

  Faithful as the stars and moon,

  Summer fades, the earth is yearning,

  Softly whisp’ring, autumn soon.

  Drape the woods in mist one morning,

  Now small birds have learned to fly,

  Mother Nature’s gentle warning,

  See green leaves turn brown, and die.

  In old orchards on the bough,

  Fruit hangs russet, red and gold,

  Purple scarlet berries now,

  All the rambling hedgerows hold.

  Hazel, beech and chestnut too,

  Each displays its burden fair,

  They will shed them, all for you,

  Ere winter lays their branches bare.

  Fields of ripened grain and corn,

  Swaying to a murm’ring breeze,

  Shaking off the dew of dawn,

  When the eye sees signs like these.

  Summer’s long hot days are ended,

  Harvest moons o’er stream and mere,

  Tell the tale, as ’twas intended,

  Autumn’s peaceful dream is here.’

  Columbine shifted slightly, trying not to disturb her sleeping babe. ‘Ooh, this fellow’s getting heavy these days.’

  Bella relieved her friend of the burden, scooping Gonflet neatly up in one huge paw. She nodded knowingly. ‘Little wonder. See, the pockets of his smock are full of wedgestones to use on the barrels. Pity the scamp never bothered to use ’em!’


  Abbess Germaine could not help remarking, ‘Think of the fun we’d have missed if he did. That one’ll grow up a bigger rascal than his father. But you’re right, Columbine, Redwall isn’t the same without Martin, Dinny and your Gonff. Let’s hope they’ll make it back safely.’

  Skipper paused, a cheese and mushroom flan halfway to his mouth. ‘Only beasts I’d be worried about, beggin’ yore pardon, marm, are those foolish enough to try an’ stop ’em returnin’ to our Abbey. Huh, I’d sure enough feel sorry for those!’

  Columbine topped the otter’s beaker up with October Ale. ‘I suppose you’re right, Skip, but my Gonff attracts trouble no matter where he is. I think he enjoys it.’

  Abbess Germaine patted the mousewife’s paw. ‘That’s why he has two good friends – Martin, who has never been defeated by anybeast, and Dinny, full of caution and sensible mole logic. Don’t fret yourself over those three, my dear, they could overcome anything!’

  Bella winked at Skipper, to lighten the evening’s end and take Columbine’s mind off worries about Gonff and his friends.

  ‘Getting late, Skip. Come on, you haven’t sung tonight. Send us all off to our beds with one of your funny ditties.’

  The burly otter was only too willing to oblige.

  ‘Good night, sleep tight!

  Don’t forget t’close the door,

  Good night, sleep tight!

  Use the bed an’ not the floor,

  Good night, sleep tight!

  Now don’t let me hear you snore,

  Good night, sleep tight!

  An’ don’t sleepwalk any more.

  Blow out the candle,

  Turn down the bed,

  Stop yore yawnin’ sleepyhead.

  Good night, sleep tight!

  Up the wooden stairs y’creep,

  Good night, sleep tight!

  Put on yore nightie go t’sleep,