Pearls of Lutra Page 9

  ‘Thanks for your hospitality, Log a Log. Peace be upon you also, and all of your Guosim this night!’

  Grath closed her eyes and slept then. But peace would have been the last thing on her mind had she known that not half a league out to sea beyond the reefs, Waveworm, the corsair ship, was sailing parallel to the shrew’s cave, bound south. It passed in the night, leaving only a broad wake which was soon swallowed up, lost in sweeping rain and the eternally flowing seas.

  13

  UP IN THE sick bay, Rollo finished reading Fermald’s cryptic message. Tansy narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then slowly repeated the strange little rhyme, having heard it only once. The hogmaid spoke out firm and clear.

  ‘Look not up, nor to the four main points,

  But where our paws do tread, the dead oak joints.

  There wrought by mother nature ’neath the main,

  Lies that which holds the beauty, or the bane.’

  Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Well done, miss! What a curious tale Fermald the Ancient had to tell. Sampetra, where is it? Emperor Mad Eyes, what sort of creature is he? Graylunk’s secret gift, the Tears of all Oceans, why are they so dangerous, what are they? I tell you, it’s a riddle within a riddle!’

  Rollo breathed hard on his spectacles and polished them with his sleeve, saying, ‘Aye, Martin, it has me baffled too.’

  Tansy tapped her paw on the unrolled parchment. ‘Oh, let’s get on and follow the clues,’ she cried.

  Rollo gave the hogmaid a severe glance over the top of his glasses. ‘But do you feel well enough yet, Tansy?’ he asked.

  Friar Higgle glanced up from a slice of pie and chuckled. ‘Hohoho! Well enough, did y’say? Just look at ’er. If’n I felt that well I’d be up an’ cuttin’ a jig. That one’s as spry as a whippy willow in a breeze!’

  Tansy leapt from the bed to prove her point. ‘See! Oh, come on, please, please, or I’ll make myself ill lying in bed thinking about it all. What d’you say, Martin sir?’

  The Warriormouse tapped a paw against his chin. ‘Mmm, maybe . . . But what if Sister Cicely comes back and finds one of her patients gone, what then?’

  Higgle licked redcurrant from his paws. ‘Then I’ll sling ’er into bed an’ feed ’er warm nettle broth, an’ see as ’ow she likes it! Hohohoho!’

  Amid the general laughter at Higgle’s outrageous suggestion, Rollo and Tansy clasped paws with Martin, their eyes shining as he spoke the words they were waiting to hear.

  ‘Right, let’s go and solve this thing, friends!’

  Three lanterns illuminated Fermald’s chamber as the trio set about their search. Rollo sat in the armchair and read out the first two lines of the rhyme.

  ‘Look not up, nor to the four main points,

  But where our paws do tread, the dead oak joints.’

  A faint smile hovered on Martin’s lips as he questioned Tansy. ‘Now, missie, tell me. Which are the four main points?’

  ‘Easy: north, south, east and west.’

  ‘Good! So if we can’t look north, south, east or west and we can’t look up . . . Where else can we look?’

  ‘I’d say down, Martin.’

  ‘Well done! And where do our paws usually tread?’

  ‘On the floor?’

  ‘Indeed they do. So, when an oak is dead our carpenters cut it lengthwise into long planks and joint them together into floorboards. D’you think we should look into the walls?’

  Tansy giggled. ‘You’re being silly now, Martin, we should look under the floorboards, of course!’

  Rollo spread wide his paws. ‘All very clever, but this is a big attic, so where under the floorboards do we start looking?’

  It was decided that they start at the far wall and together, working slowly, cover every bit of the attic floor. On all fours they went, pushing their lanterns ahead as they searched.

  About a third of the way down the attic Rollo got up with a sigh and went to sit in the armchair, saying, ‘I’ve had enough for one night, friends. My old back is killing me and these eyes of mine aren’t what they used to be.’

  Both Tansy and Martin remonstrated with the Recorder.

  ‘Oh, come on, Rollo, you’re no fun at all, you old grouch!’

  ‘Yes, please, mister Rollo, don’t fall asleep in that armchair.’

  ‘Up on y’paws now, or we’ll take you to the sick bay and let Sister Cicely feed you warm nettle soup!’

  ‘I’d help us if I were you, Rollo; that warm nettle soup tastes awful, it’s like trying to drink dirty ditchwater!’

  But Rollo refused to be moved. ‘No, my mind’s made up. You’re strong, Martin, and Tansy’s young, you carry on, I’m too old . . .’

  Martin had been creeping up behind the armchair as Rollo spoke, and suddenly he gave it a mighty shove. Rollo squeaked out in surprise; so did the little caster wheels as they rumbled along the floor, stopping just short of the far wall. Martin wagged a warning paw. ‘Now will you get up and help us, you old fraud?’

  ‘Look, see here!’ Tansy was on all fours inspecting the floor where the armchair had formerly stood. Rollo leapt from the chair to join Martin and Tansy at the spot.

  ‘Where, what is it? Hold the lantern closer!’

  It was a crude black ink drawing, sketched at a joint lengthways where one floorboard ended and another began: a simple picture of a spoon.

  Martin forestalled their enquiries. ‘Before you ask me . . . Yes, I have Fermald’s spoon right here in my belt.’

  He produced the polished buckthorn spoon and inserted it into the crack between both floorboards, muttering, ‘What am I supposed to do with it now, lever the board up?’

  ‘No, sir, the spoon is too fragile. It’d break.’

  ‘Hmm, you’re right, Tansy. Any ideas?’

  ‘Perhaps if you wiggled it from side to side,’ Rollo suggested.

  Martin tried, but nothing happened. He sat pondering the problem until Tansy said, ‘Try pushing it down, sir.’

  The Warriormouse pushed the spoon firmly into the crack. ‘Good try, Tansy, but there’s still nothing happening.’

  Rollo peered at the problem from all angles. ‘Maybe if we all moved off the floorboard – come this side of it, you two. Try pushing the spoon in now, Martin.’

  Martin did. There was a click and the floorboard lifted slightly, just enough for the Warriormouse to get a grip with his paws. He lifted and the board came out easily. Tansy scooped a small linen flourbag out of the space beneath.

  ‘Hahah! Got it, good old Rollo!’

  The Recorder beamed with pleasure as he inspected the empty space. ‘Yes, ’twas rather clever of me, wasn’t it? The floorboard would never have risen while we were all kneeling on it. See, it was just a simple lever, the spoon pushes one end and the other end further along rises up and moves the floorboard. Shall we adjourn downstairs where we can sit comfortably by the fire in Cavern Hole? Everybeast should be abed by now. We can look at what we’ve found in peace and comfort; it’s a bit chilly up here.’

  They were halfway along the dormitory corridor when Viola bankvole came bursting out of the main bedrooms. She was quaking and sobbing. Martin and Rollo caught hold of her.

  ‘Viola, what’s wrong, miss? Why are you so upset?’

  The bankvole snuffled tears onto her nightgown sleeve. ‘The big bird, it was horrible! It came right against the gatehouse window and nearly got me, it had a sharp beak and great eyes and it was screeching. Waaahaaah!’

  Tansy led her to the sick bay, comforting her. ‘Hush now, Viola, there there. It was only a dream. You can sleep in my bed, it’s nice and quiet in the sick bay. There’s only Friar Higgle and he’s fast asleep. Lie down now.’

  They left a lantern by the bed to reassure Viola.

  Walking back out into the corridor, Rollo gave a start and leaned fearfully against Martin. A small white-clad figure had materialized out of the gloom.

  ‘Toogle doo Tansy pansy, I’m a likkle maggit!’

  It
was Arven, in a long white nightshirt. He tripped giggling into Tansy’s outstretched paws. The hedgehog maid chided him. ‘You should be fast asleep. What have you been up to, eh?’

  Arven drew two big gull feathers from his nightshirt. ‘A been ticklen Vola bankee onna nose. Heeheeheehee!’

  Martin took the two feathers from the tiny squirrel. ‘You dreadful creature, so it was you frightening poor Viola into having nightmares! What are we going to do with you?’

  Arven shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Phwah! Can’t do anyfink wiv Dibbuns, not choppa tail off wivva big sword, ho no, Arven on’y likkle!’

  Rollo shook his head despairingly. ‘He’s right, y’know, there’s not a lot we can do to a naughty Dibbun. There’s only the fun things, like letting Mother Auma give him a good bath. It’s nice when the soapsuds go up your nose and down your mouth and your eyes smart and you have to be still while she scrubs your tail with that hard brush and . . .’

  The rest of Rollo’s words were lost on Arven as he wriggled out of Tansy’s grasp and fled back into the dormitory, muttering, ‘Nono, I be good, I be good now, not lerra m’Auma get me inna baff.’

  As they went through the kitchens, they found that Teasel the hogwife had left a big parsnip and mushroom pastie to cool for morning before she went to her bed. Safe inside Cavern Hole, Martin grinned as they divided a slice between them. ‘I haven’t stolen a slice of pastie since I was a Dibbun, huh, us three are worse than little Arven!’

  Tansy blew on a slice of pastie to cool it, licking the dark rich gravy from her paws. ‘Wrong, Martin, if there were ten of us we couldn’t make more trouble than that maggot. He’s the terror of all Dibbuns, take it from one who knows!’

  Rollo burnt his tongue on the hot pastry. ‘Whooh! Excuse me, but are we going to sit here discussing Abbeybabes or is somebeast going to open that bag tonight?’

  Martin twirled his paw towards Tansy. ‘The honour is all yours, my friend!’

  Inside the flourbag was the shell of a scallop, a huge one. Deep ridges on both sides met where the shell closed in a perfect watertight seal. At some time a clever and artful creature had created darkwood hinges to the shell’s back flanges and a cunning clasplock on the front. As Tansy opened the shell, she recited the second half of the rhyme:

  ‘There wrought by mother nature ’neath the main,

  Lies that which holds the beauty, or the bane.’

  Both halves of the scallop shell fell open before their eager eyes. The interior of the shell was lined with soft red cloth. One perfectly round ball of thin fine parchment nestled in a holder; five more holding spaces were empty.

  Rollo sighed with disappointment. ‘I told you, Martin, this is only the beginning of a wild goose chase. What a tricky and aggravating squirrel Fermald the Ancient was – though fates preserve her memory.’

  Martin heard Rollo, but he was staring at Tansy. ‘What’s on your mind, missie? You seem very pensive.’

  The hogmaid let her paw stray across the five vacant holders. ‘Sea shell, sea birds . . . oh, I don’t know. What is sure is that there are five empty spaces, which must mean that there are five missing balls of paper.’

  ‘Well, let’s not waste any time,’ said Rollo. ‘Let’s open the one we’ve got and see where fortune leads us.’

  Rollo’s paws shook as he worked, carefully peeling the delicate tissue of the flimsy orb open. ‘Gently does it, I don’t want to rip the paper. Ah, there!’

  The three friends scanned Fermald’s spidery writing.

  For you my old friend Higgle,

  I shed a single tear,

  The kindnesses oft showed me,

  Your food and smiling cheer,

  Go, find my gift, good Friar,

  This tear is given free,

  Not hid away in secret,

  But there for all to see!

  Rollo stared into the fire, watching the intricate flame-dances around log and charcoal. ‘Tears, tears, always tears,’ he said.

  Tansy could not resist a little joke. ‘If tears are the answer you need go no further than Viola bankvole; she’s always weeping and whining about something or other. Let’s try her!’

  Martin gave the hedgehog maid a sideways glance. ‘Probably because she’s easy to pick on. I’m surprised at you, Tansy, making fun of the misfortune of others.’

  The regret Tansy showed at her ill-chosen remark was sincere. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I’ll try to be kinder to Viola in future.’

  Rollo patted her paw cheerily. ‘Well spoken, young ’un, that’s the true Redwall spirit. Here, finish this pastie off before it grows cold.’

  Tansy needed no second bidding; Teasel’s pastie was delicious.

  For a long while the three friends sat in silence, staring at the thin scrap of parchment and pondering its meaning. Cavern Hole was peaceful and warm, and soon Rollo’s glasses started to slip further down his nose as his head began to slump forward. Martin winked at Tansy and nodded towards the drowsing old Recorder, then he blew gently on Rollo’s eyelids.

  The bankvole blinked several times and sat up straight, as if he had never dozed off, saying, ‘Ahem! Right, where are we, still studying this rhyme, eh?’

  Martin kept a straight face as he replied, ‘Aye, still studying. Have you come up with any good ideas?’

  Rollo’s paw shot up decisively. ‘I’ve got it. Here’s what we must do next!’

  Martin and Tansy exclaimed together, ‘What?’

  A twinkle shone in Rollo’s tired old eyes. ‘Go straight to bed before we all fall asleep here and wake up with stiff necks and rickety backs. Now don’t start pouting, miss, we’ve got to sleep sometime. Tell her, Martin.’

  The Warriormouse rose and stretched. ‘He’s right, Tansy. You’ll see, a clear morning after a sound night’s sleep and a good breakfast always improves a creature’s brainpower. You’d best sleep in the dormitory, Viola is in your infirmary bed. Come on now, up you go!’

  Despite her protestations that she was not the least bit tired, Tansy found the dormitory bed soft and comfortable. Sleep stole up, gently closing her eyelids and leading her into the realm of odd dreams.

  Martin appeared, but he was not quite like the Martin she knew so well, and he was wearing a magnificent suit of armour. Tansy realized that this was the other Martin, the Warrior Founder of Redwall – the same mouse whose likeness was woven into the tapestry which hung in Great Hall. He wore the same sword she had often seen the present Martin wearing.

  Tansy felt happy in the presence of the Warrior. He radiated strength, safety and confidence, and his voice was soothing when he spoke.

  ‘Maid of Redwall, search and never give up hope. You will find joy, frustration and sorrow in your quest. Never forget that friendship and loyalty are more precious than riches. Remember these words on the day you must return the Tears to their true owner. Happiness can be brief, but it knows no time in the land of dreams. Sleep on and I will show you.’

  The Warrior’s image faded and Tansy went deep into the most pleasant dream. Like a leaf she was borne upwards, and she wandered with the breeze through quiet summer woodlands, resting in sunlit coppices, drifting on margins of still water meadows and dancing lightly over faraway flower-clad hills.

  14

  FRIAR HIGGLE STUMP was up and about early the next morning. He trundled down to his beloved kitchens, grumbling to himself.

  ‘I wager breakfast ain’t but ’alf started yet, best be about my business, ’ungry mouths t’feed. That Sister Cicely, she’d ’ave a body lyin’ abed all season for no good reason. Us Stumps’re made of stern spike, ’tis plain no seagull can bother me!’

  He strode boldly into the kitchens, only to be met by his wife Teasel’s accusing eye.

  ‘I knowed there weren’t nothin’ wrong wi’ you, ’iggle, I ’spect it was you sneaked down last night late an’ took a slice of that parsnip an’ mushroom pastie I left out to cool afore I went abed!’

  The good Friar brushed past her stiffly, saying, ‘Shame o
n you for even thinkin’ such a thing about me, marm! When did I ever filch food from me own kitchens, eh?’

  He set about measuring oatmeal and barley into a mixing bowl before livening up the oven fires with fresh charcoal. Teasel took a tray of nutbread rolls down from her cooling shelf, her muttering blending with that of Higgle. Both hedgehogs chunnered to themselves as they went about their cooking chores.

  ‘A pastie that eats itself? Ain’t nought but mysteries of late in this ’ere Abbey, mysteries an’ mischief!’

  ‘Huh! This honey’s stiff as glue, I’d best leave it atop the oven t’warm through. Parsnips don’t agree with me, why should I want to eat ’er pastie?’

  ‘We’re goin’ t’need more white cheese afore the mornin’s done, aye, an’ this oven fire needs a good rakin’ out . . .’

  Abbot Durral had also risen early. He strode into the kitchens rubbing his paws in a lively fashion. ‘Good morrow to you both, can I lend a paw? Here, that fire needs raking out, Teasel – let me do it!’

  The three friends went about their work as the atmosphere lightened and mouth-watering aromas began pervading the air. Durral helped Higgle to carry a small churn of greensap milk from the cooling slab to the mixing bowl, explaining his day’s plans as they measured it into the oatmeal and barley.

  ‘I thought I’d take a stroll into Mossflower woodlands today, collect some coltsfoot and brooklime, maybe find a clearing where some red clover is showing. It’s going to be a nice warm day, I feel we’ll soon have a hint of summer.’

  Friar Higgle winked knowingly at his friend, and said, ‘Who knows, may’aps I’ll be able to make you some pastilles if’n you collects enough o’ those plants, Father Abbot.’

  Durral hid a smile, putting on a mock-defensive tone. ‘Coltsfoot pastilles are good for the young ones, keep them fit, good for coughs and any number of small ailments.’

  Teasel had been eavesdropping on the conversation, and now she tapped the Abbot’s paw lightly with her ladle. ‘I don’t suppose it’d ’ave anythin’ t’do with a certain Abbot o’ Redwall who likes to carry a liddle bag o’ coltsfoot pastilles to suck. Some elders are worse’n Dibbuns, I say!’