The Lutra - Jacques, Brian - Redwall 09 - The Pearls Of Lutra

Auma nodded toward it. “Skipper and his crew are still down there, seeing that it burns to the ground and the fire doesn't spread. Will you pack some food for them, Teasel? I'll take it down myself."

The hogwife patted her friend's paw. "Aye, I'll pack plenty, knowin' wot good appetites yon otters 'ave. Though at the moment I detests to look at vittles or prepare 'em. Friar 'iggle, bless 'im, he sent me off from the kitchens an' stayed to fix hrekkist fer anybeast as wants some, but none came."

The hogwife threw her flowery apron up over her face and wept. "The pore liddle maid, to end up like that, an' she were so young too. I ain't no warrior, marm, but I 'opes those wicked birds got all they deserved off Log a Log an' Skipper's big gel!"

Auma stroked her friend's headspikes soothingly. "There, there, don't take on so, those birds paid dear for their evil ways. Log a Log told me all about it last night: 'twill be many a long season before we hear the call of a jackdaw in our land again, I promise you."

The grief at Piknim's death was so great in Redwall Abbey that Auma had to assume the mantle of Abbess and request that none came to the burying, because it would be far too upsetting for young and old. Accordingly at midday she and Rangapaw laid the young mousemaid to rest themselves. They chose a shady spot in the orchard, to one side beneath a great sweet-chestnut tree, where they held a simple ceremony. Small gifts of remembrance from every Redwaller were placed in the grave. When the task was done, both Abbey bells tolled slowly, their clappers muted with velvet to soften the tone.

Craklyn, Tansy and Rollo stood at an upper window overlooking the orchard, despite the protest of Sister Cicely regarding their condition. The otter Glenner supported Craklyn as she stood at the window and sang. Her sweet voice, which had sounded out in harmony with Piknim's many times before, was now alone. It echoed beautifully off the outer walls until it seemed to fill the entire Abbey and its grounds.

“ Fare you well upon your journey,

To the bright lands far away,

Where beside the peaceful rivers,

You may linger any day.

In the forests warm at noontide,

See the flowers bloom in the glades,

Meet the friends who've gone before you,

To the calm of quiet shades.

There you'll wait, O my beloved,

Never knowing want or care,

And when I have seen my seasons,

We will walk together there."

Glenner and Sister Cicely walked the three friends back to the room they were sharing at the infirmary. There they lay upon their beds, all with their own deep personal thoughts. Teatime passed and still they had not stirred. Tansy lay on top of her counterpane, fully dressed, watching the sunlight lengthening afternoon shadows through the window.

The door creaked open and Friar Higgle Stump crept in bearing a tray laden with slices of nutbread, a hot mushroom and leek pastie in gravy, a bowl of fresh fruit salad and a flagon of his brother Furlo's best dandelion and burdock cordial. He wiggled his nose at them.

"Good afternoon, friends. I couldn't bear the thought of you up 'ere bein' fed warm nettle broth; that shouldn't 'appen to anybeast. So I brought up a little summat to tickle yore appetites."

He placed the tray down, but they did not even look at it. The Friar shook his head sadly. “Dearie me, now if miss Piknim were about she'd 'ave beat you all to it an' gobbled everythin' up."

Craklyn sat up shaking her head. "No, she wouldn't. Piknim would have shared it with us 'cos we're her friends ... I mean, we were her friends."

Rollo sat up also, arching his eyebrows indignantly. "Were? You mean we're not stillPiknim's friends?"

Then Tansy sat up, glaring at Rollo. "Craklyn never meant that. We'll always be Piknim's friends, her dearest and best most treasured friends, so there!"

A smile played around Friar Higgle's face. "I knows 'ow you can be such good friends with Piknim that nobeast'd believe it!"

Craklyn and Tansy spoke in unison. "How?"

The Friar perched upon the window sill, his face serious. "Just carry on like yore doin' now an' don't eat no more, you'll soon be reunited with yore friend by starvin' t'death!"

He winked broadly at Rollo, knowing the Recorder would recognize the wisdom in his words. Rollo did. He sat up, filled himself a beaker and chose a thick slice of nutbread, then, eating and drinking, he began to speak.

"I vote we carry on searching for the Tears of all Oceans. Now, you maids keep silent, just eat and listen to me. Eat!"

The old Recorder's voice was sharp and commanding; neither Tansy or Craklyn had ever heard him speak like that. Seating themselves close to the tray, they began eating.

Rollo tossed the fourth pearl in the air and caught it.

"See this thing? Piknim gave her life for it. Between us we vowed to find those six pearls because they may be needed to ransom our Abbot back from the enemy. I don't know about you two, but Rollo bankvole never breaks his word. I intend to find the other two pearls. Tchah! I'll wager Piknim would have had a very low opinion of us had she seen us a moment ago. Moping and moaning with no thought of carrying on the very quest that she died for. Is that the act of friends?"

Tansy slammed her paw down on the tray so hard that she broke the bread platter. "We'll find those pearls together, all three of us!"

Craklyn whirled her bushy tail fiercely. “Aye, and when we do we'll stuff 'em down the throats of those scum who kidnapped our friends, one by one!"

Friar Higgle crept smiling from the infirmary, murmuring, "Very nice talk for young Abbeymaids, charmin'. Enjoy yore tea."

Chapter 38

Tansy split the acorn shell that held the scrap of parchment. Unfolding it, she read aloud,

"There is a warrior,

Where is a sword?

Peace did he bring,

The fighting Lord.

Shed for him is my fifth tear.

Find it in the title here,

Written in but a single word,

An eye is an eye, until it is heard."

Tansy paused, shaking her head in despair. "Written separate to the rhyme is a pile of numbers which don't seem to make any sense at all. Listen to this: Lines. One of one. Eight of two. One of three. Three of four. One of five. Six of six. Two of seven. Four of eight."

She tossed the scrap of parchment to Craklyn. "There you are, friend, sort that little lot out!"

Chewing slowly on a wedge of pastie, the squirrelmaid narrowed her eyes, glaring a challenge at Tansy. "Do you think I can't?"

Rollo peered over the tops of his glasses at her. “We have great faith in you."

Craklyn took a great swig of her dandelion and burdock cordial. "Then you're both a pair of dimwits, 'cos I haven't the faintest clue what it all means!"

The three friends sat staring at one another for a moment, then broke out into spontaneous laughter.

Rollo dug his spoon into the fresh fruit salad. "If we're a pair of dimwits then that makes you a blockhead, so among the three of us we'll solve it. Hahaha!"

The Skipper of Otters was on his way upstairs to the infirmary when he met Sister Cicely coming down. Waving his rudderlike tail politely at her, he said, "Good noon t'ye, marm. I was just on me way up t'see Gerul. How is he today? Prob'ly still slee-pin' his injuries off, I wager."

The good Sister glared frostily at the husky otter. "Hmph!" she replied.

Ever the gentlebeast, Skipper nodded courteously at the Sister. "Humff, marm? I s'pose there's a wealth o' meanin' in the word, but it don't tell me naught about ole Gerul. The pore bird was so badly wounded he was at death's doorstep last night. Pray tell, wot's his condition today, marm?"

Cicely was in no end of a huff. "That... that.. . owl!He rose not an hour ago, refused all treatment and hurled a pot of my best warm nettle soup from the infirmary window! You want to know his condition, go and find out for yourself, sirhe's down in the kitchens, surrounded by otters, shrews and Dibbuns, cooking and eating everything in sight." Brushing Skipper aside, Sister Cicely flounced downstairs.