Brian Jacques - [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain

The young squirrel read aloud from the Geminya Tome.

“Linger sure for the lee,

I set my trick carefully,

my home lies o’er the sea,

you’ll find the title names me . . . Is.”

The ancient Recorder Librarian peered over his glasses. “Personally, I think Sister Geminya was only doodling, but you’ll find that out, if you’ve wit enough. Well, can any of you bright creatures throw some light on it?”

They stared at the four lines a while, then Brinty spoke. “I think it’s telling us to discover a name. Right, sir?”

Old Quelt shrugged. “Don’t ask me, my brain is old and slow. Try having confidence in your own judgement.”

Girry chimed in. “I think Brinty’s right. We’re looking for the name of somebeast, agreed?”

Sister Snowdrop adjusted her glasses. “That much is fairly obvious, but where among the lines of the poem do we begin to look?”

Skipper, who was studying the rhyme intently, spoke without taking his eyes from the page. “I think I know, Sister. I’ve read this thing through six times now. Most of it makes sense, all except one line.”

Tiria interrupted her father. “You mean the first line, Skip? ‘Linger sure for the lee.’ I noticed that, too. Hmm, wonder what it’s supposed to mean?”

Brink tried to help with a suggestion. “I know the lee is the sheltered side of anythin’. Is that a clue? Are we lookin’ for a shelter?”

Quelt shook his head. “No no, Mr. Greyspoke, you’re just confusing the issue. Try using the whole line as a guide.”

Tribsy wrinkled his snout comically. “Hurr, you’m means all ee wurds’n’letters of ee line?”

Sister Snowdrop began giving out charcoal sticks and scraps of parchment for everybeast to use. “Precisely! We must treat the entire line as an anagram. You know what that is—a lot of letters which you can jumble up to arrange into a new phrase.”

Molemum Burbee sucked her tea noisily. “Hurr, oi never see’d that dun afore, marm. Oi bain’t used to riggles’n’puzzlers. They’m makes moi ’ead ache.”

Abbess Lycian topped her friend’s mug up with fresh tea. “There now, don’t you fret about it, Burbee. Girry, maybe you and I could work at it together.”

They paired off into twos. Only Quelt sat alone, watching them like a master observing his pupils.

Tiria and Brinty were first to come up with something. The ottermaid cried eagerly, “Listen to this: ‘Eels rue fling her tore’!”

Brink scratched his headspikes. “Wot does that mean?”

Tiria shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? Have you two got anything yet?”

Skipper Banjon, who was Brink’s partner, read out their effort. “ ‘Forges the line ruler,’ or ‘Rules the line forger.’ Huh, I think we left a letter E out. It’s hard alright!”

Old Quelt polished his glasses nonchalantly. “Dearie me, you aren’t even close. Would you like me to tell you the answer?”

Girry called out abruptly, “No, we wouldn’t!”

Quelt answered with a touch of irony in his tone. “Please yourself, young ’un. I suppose you’ve solved it, eh?”

Abbess Lycian’s eyes twinkled. “Yes we have, actually. It says ‘The Ruler of Green Isle.’ Then there’s the last word of the rhyme, it says ‘is.’ I’d forgotten about that, but now it makes sense.”

Girry was elated. “Abbess Lycian and I solved it, by arranging all the letters of the line in a circle and staring hard at them. It suddenly just popped out at us. The Ruler of Green Isle . . . Is!”

Brinty looked expectantly at his young squirrel friend. “Is who?”

Sister Snowdrop pointed to the Tome. “We don’t know yet, apart from the fact that it’s somebeast who lives over the sea. Now listen carefully while I read you the second part of the puzzle.”

The little Sister recited the odd words slowly.

“Three aitches, two ee’s, two I’s, two N’s,

Wherever there’s Q , there’s a U , or two.

One G, one L , one A, one R,

So I leave the answer to you.”

Molemum Burbee covered her ears with both paws. “Ho gurt seasons! ’Tis enuff to droive a pore beast to discratchun!”

Lycian and Girry were already forming up the letters into a circle. The Abbess whispered to Girry, “She means distraction. Right, let’s see what we’ve got!”

Girry rubbed his paws together, chuckling happily. “Really enjoy doing these puzzles, Mother Abbess!”

Brink Greyspoke wiped charcoal dust from his paws in disgust. “Well, I’m glad ye do, Girry mate, ’tis all a duck’s dinner to me. I’m only good at bein’ a Cellar’og!”

Girry addressed Quelt in a bantering manner. “You’re the scholar here, sir. I don’t suppose you’ve got the solution yet?”

The Recorder Librarian eyed him severely. “No, I haven’t, and I don’t suppose you’ve got it in so short a time, young fellow!”

Girry stood up and began pacing the room. Clasping his paws behind him, he did a little hopskip, twirling his bushy tail.

Tiria stared at him incredulously. “Girry, you haven’t solved it, have you?”

Girry nodded, smirking like a Dibbun who had evaded a bath. “Got it as soon as I set eyes on it. Straight off!”

Molemum Burbee shook a huge digging claw at him. “Then take ee smugg lukk off’n ee face an’ tell uz!”

The young squirrel was enjoying his moment. Performing another hopskip, he stuck his nose in the air. “Shan’t!”

Sister Snowdrop pleaded, “Oh please, tell us. I’ll have Friar Bibble cook something special just for you!”

Girry grinned sweetly at her. “No, shan’t!”

Skipper rose menacingly from his seat. “Tell us right now, ye young rip, or I’ll kick yore fluffy tail down the stairs!”

Abbess Lycian cried out severely, “No you will not, sir!”

She cast an icy glance at Girry before continuing. “I will, and I’ll box his ears into the bargain. Come here, you annoying rascal!”

She made an undignified charge at Girry, who fled shouting, “Yaaaah! ‘High Queen Rhulain,’ that’s the answer!”

Lycian strolled back to her seat, smiling calmly. “So then, there we have it, straight from the mouth of my obedient assistant.”

She held out her paw to Girry, who had regained his composure sufficiently to announce, “The Ruler of Green Isle is High Queen Rhulain!”

He bowed elegantly but could not resist one last hopskip as he bounded to the Recorder Librarian’s side. “Hoho, this is the stuff! Come on, Quelt sir, and you, too, Sister. Where’s the next puzzle, eh? Just show it to us and we’ll crack it like Friar Bibble cracking a hazelnut with a bung mallet. Won’t we, mates?”

There was ready agreement from the rest until Sister Snowdrop put a damper on their enthusiasm. “I’m afraid we haven’t found anything else yet. You’ll just have to wait.”

Girry’s tail stood up like a flagpole. “You don’t mean to tell us that’s all, do you?”

Old Quelt closed the book, patting its cover. “Not at all, young sir. There’s probably lots more about Miss Tiria’s dream and the journey she’ll be making.”

Tiria could not conceal her disappointment. “Well, why can’t you find it for us now?”

Removing his glasses and dabbing at his eyes with a kerchief, the ancient squirrel explained. “I’m certain there has to be more, because Sister Geminya has given us a keystone clue, the High Queen Rhulain. I can follow her reasoning, though she could be an exceedingly aggravating creature. But when she has a tale to relate, or a mystery to set out, this is the roundabout way she has of writing it down. Sister Snowdrop and I must study the Tome carefully. Just one oversight, and we lose it all. It is not the work of a moment, you must understand. Our research will be long and arduous, but we’ll get there. Now, my friends, I am very old and very tired. It will have to wait until tomorrow morning. I bid you good night!”