Brian Jacques - [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain

an’ a scowl on his wicked features.

Oh I dearly do love vermin,

I think I always will,

while I can afford to draw me sword,

there’s always time to kill!

’Tis true that a stoat will never float,

with a javelin through his liver,

an’ a rat’ll never get thirsty,

after sinkin’ in the river.

Ole Blood’n’guts they call me,

’cos I sends ’em to Hellgates,

a fox, a weasel or anybeast evil,

along with their foul messmates!”

Tiria bowed to the ruler of Salamandastron. “You wished to see me, Lord?”

Mandoral held a massive paw out to the ottermaid. “Yes, I think you’d best come with me. We’ll go somewhere quieter. It can get rather rowdy in here at mealtimes.”

As they passed the alcove, Cuthbert could be seen standing on a table, waving his sabre whilst treating his audience to an even more bloodthirsty ballad.

The badger shook his huge, striped head disapprovingly. “Normally I wouldn’t allow that sort of thing in the mess. It’s a bad example to the younger hares. But Frunk is a law unto himself—he says what he pleases and comes and goes whenever the mood takes him. I take it Captain Granden told you his story?”

Tiria replied. “Yes, sir, a sad and terrible tale it was. I don’t think he can really be blamed for the way he is, in view of what happened.”

Mandoral agreed. “That’s the way I feel also. The major has become a berserker, one who courts death. I allow him more leeway than any of my Long Patrol. It would come as no great surprise if he left here one day and never returned. I’d know then that he got his wish.”

Tiria followed the Badger Lord down a passage, then up several flights of rock-hewn stairs. They passed dormitories and barrack rooms, all quite spartan but very neat. Salamandastron looked to be an even more solid proposition than her Abbey home of Redwall, but after all, she reasoned, it was a military fortress. They ascended more stairs. Tiria had begun to wonder how much farther up they would go, when Mandoral halted in front of a wide beechwood door. He opened it, showing her in.

“This is my personal chambers and forge room.”

Tiria found herself in a wide, spacious blacksmith’s shop. Three of the walls were hung with armour, shields and weapons. On the seaward wall a long, unshuttered window faced a view of the restless main beneath a moonlit canopy of star-strewn darkness. At the centre of the room was a great glowing forge with two iron anvils and barrels of oil and water close by. The ottermaid went to the window where she stood admiring the panorama.

Lord Mandoral joined her there. “Salamandastron has always protected the western shores of Mossflower Country against foebeasts and wrongdoers. Of late we have been fortunate to live through long peaceful seasons, but it has not always been thus. Many times we have taken up arms against invaders from both land and sea. I myself prefer the peaceful life. Besides being a warrior lord, I have learned to study. I have educated myself in the legends, lore and history of this mountain, its various rulers and our proud traditions.”

Tiria could feel the soft night breeze caressing her face and the heat from the glowing forge upon her back. She chanced a sideways glance at the Badger Lord, well believing that he was a fearsome warrior, with his formidable size, firm, thrusting jaw and quick, hooded eyes. However, there was no doubt, by his words, that he was a creature who possessed both knowledge and wisdom.

Mandoral pointed out at the sea, directing her gaze. “Look there, Tiria, slightly north and straight ahead, between the bay and the horizon. What can you see?”

She peered into the night sea intently. “What am I supposed to be looking for, sir?”

The badger was moving away from her as he replied, “The tide has started to ebb. Keep looking if you want to know more of the High Queen Rhulain.”

Tiria was totally taken aback. “Lord, how do you know of the Rhulain?”

Tiria turned to ask the badger more, but she was facing an empty room. He had vanished!

23

Returning swiftly to her former position at the window, Tiria continued to scan the sea, though her mind was in a state of turmoil. How did Mandoral know about the Rhulain? Why had he told her to watch that area of the sea, and where had he disappeared to? She tried to fathom it all out. In the midst of her deliberations, Tiria suddenly saw something which set her senses tingling.

The ebbing tide had receded sufficiently to expose a rock, in the very spot she was watching. In a flash, Tiria recalled the dream she’d had on the night before she left Redwall Abbey: the Rhulain appearing out of the sea to deliver the message which had sent Tiria in search of Green Isle. When the High Queen had sunk back beneath the waters, she had left what appeared to be the tip of her hooded figure, showing above the waves. There it was now, far out on the deep—a rock shaped like the top of the Rhulain’s hood!

A deep voice sounded close by. “The rock is only visible when the tide is at its lowest ebb. It shows quite clearly in moonlight, don’t you agree?” Mandoral had returned. He was carrying a sheaf of scrolls, which he placed on a barrelhead.

The ottermaid stood wide-eyed. “I’ve seen that rock in my dreams! What is it? I mean, what does it stand for, sir?”

The dark eyes of the Badger Lord widened in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”

Pointing to the rock, he explained solemnly. “That is where the Queen of Green Isle was lost forever—she, her brother and an entire crew of Wildlough otters. Their ship was wrecked on that rock, and they were slain by murderous wildcats!”

Tiria felt very young and ignorant in Lord Mandoral’s presence. “But how do you know all of this, sir? It must have taken place in the far distant past, long before your time.”

The Badger Lord indicated the pile of scrolls. “Recorded history, Tiria. Did I not tell you that I have become a student of all the events at Salamandastron?”

The ottermaid gazed longingly at the scrolls. “Let me study the history, too, Lord. I must find out more about the High Queen.”

Mandoral allowed one of his rare smiles to the young otter. “No need for that, I can tell you all about the Rhulain. I have researched the subject thoroughly.”

The big badger swept Tiria up, as if she weighed no more than a leaf, and deposited her on the windowsill. “First, you must understand that the queen was no stranger to Salamandastron. She had visited here before. This was in the reigning seasons of Lord Urthwyte, the great white badger. Through my studies I learned that they were friends. Throughout the ages, Badger Lords have possessed formidable skills in the making of weapons and armoury. Take, for instance, Boar the Fighter. It was he who made the fabulous sword for your Martin the Warrior. Lord Urthwyte was gifted with a particular talent, the manufacture of armour. Nobeast before or since ever produced shields or armour of such strength and beauty.”

“And did he make armour for the Rhulain, sir?”

Mandoral’s massive paw touched Tiria’s mouth gently, silencing her. “I am always saying to the young hares here, the only way you will ever learn is by listening, not by speaking.”

Tiria watched in silence as Mandoral went to the pile of scrolls. He selected one, which he spread on the windowsill alongside the ottermaid.

“This is a sketch drawn by Lord Urthwyte. It was to be a new armoured breastplate he had designed for the High Queen. Now you know why I mentioned her to you. Look!”