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

She smiled and shook her head. "You feathery old fraud, your wings were supposed to be far too badly injured for you ever to fly again!"

Plucking a redcurrant from the hedge, Gerul chewed thoughtfully. "Yore right, missie, you ain't wrong, sure an' I thought the same thing meself till just a moment ago. I didn't know I could still fly, then I saw you all so upset over losin' yer bee, and I was in the air flyin' before I could stop meself, so I was!"

Brother Dormal scratched his nose to hide a smile. “No doubt your old mother would have had something to say about it all, had she been here, of course."

Gerul crammed several more redcurrants into his beak. "Yer right, sir Brother, so she would. I remember when I was a chick fresh out o' the egg, my ould mother used t'say, you'll never fly till yer try, an if yer never try you'll never fly, so try'n'fly an' y'll find out why, it's good to try an' nice t'fly!"

Tansy shook Genii's taloned claw energetically. "And never a truer word was spoken! Well done, sir!"

Brother Dormal listened as they told him how they had come to find the bee. He inspected the body closely, and said, "Hmm, 'tis just a long-dead bee, friends. How am I supposed to help you?"

Craklyn curtsied prettily, playing up to the good Brother by flattering him. "It was me, Brother. I said, let's go and ask Brother Dormal, of all Redwallers his knowledge of plants and insects is the greatest by far. Brother Dormal is a clever and educated creature, I said."

Dormal smiled, pleased but slightly embarrassed by the compliment. "Ahem, thank you, young maid. Hmmm, let me think, perhaps while I'm mulling the problem over, you could stop that owl bolting all my redcurrants, or he'll make himself too heavy to fly again."

Gerul was shooed from the orchard complaining loudly. "Ah, faith'n'seasons, 'tis a bitter day when a pore bird tries to help friends an' they reward him by starvin' the wretched creature. An' after me wearin' me ould wings t'the bone catchin' dead bees for ye, shame on y'all. Sure I'll take meself off to the kitchens an' tell me good mate ma Teasel about it, no doubt she'll toss me a few ould candied chestnuts t'keep beak an' feathers together. Oh, 'tis a hard, cruel Abbey I'm livin' in!" He ambled off doing small practice flights, followed by the three friends' laughter.

Dormal took a piece of blackberry creeper vine, wound the dead bee in it so that it would not blow away again, and gave it to Craklyn.

"My thoughts on this are very simple. Everything in its place, and a place for everything. For instance, if I had a dead fish I would immediately think of the pond; a cracked egg, the nest; an empty acorn cup, the oak tree. Any object originates from somewhere, so if you present me with a dead bee, straight away one word springs to mind. Hive!"

Rollo slapped a paw hard against his own forehead. "Of course, the hive! You make things seem so simple with your straightforward logic, Dormal. How can we ever thank you?"

The good Brother smiled shyly. "Oh, I have a feeling you won't be thanking me yet, at least not until I have discovered which beehive your pearl is hidden in. After all, I am the Abbey beekeeper, an unofficial title which I share with our cellarhog Furlo Stump. Actually I think our friends the beefolk like Furlo the best, he has a way with them. Let's go and ask him."

Chapter 50

Furlo Stump and Foremole were in the winecellars, their table-top a barrelhead and their seats small kegs. The sturdy cellar-keeper was always glad of company.

"Come ye in, friends, we'd be be'olden fer yore advice!"

Tansy glanced at the array of food on the barrelhead table. "They say fair exchange is no robbery, sir, and we've come for your advice on a matter of importance."

Foremole moved the kegs apart and placed a plank between them, making a seat for all to sit upon. "Yurr, mates, bain't nuthin' so apportant as vittles, you 'uns 'elp us'ns furst."

Dormal sat willingly, eyeing the food. "Certainly, what do you want us to do?"

Furlo brought out extra plates, beakers and knives. "We're a tastin' cheeses against drinks to go with 'em. Now, 'ere's dandelion an' burdock cordial, October ale, strawberry fizz, elderberry wine, mint tea an' plum'n'damson cup. The cheeses are t'be matched with 'em. There's the big yellow with chestnut an' celery, a white wi' hazelnuts in it, that pale gold with chives'n'apple an' the soft cream with almonds. Any'ow there's a few others that y'know, so take a nibble an' a sip o' anythin' suits yore fancy an' give us an opinion."

They all set about the delightful task with a will.

"Ooh! The soft cream and almond tastes lovely with strawberry fizz!"

"Hurr, thurr bain't nuthin' loik 'tober ale an' ee gurt yeller 'un wi' chessnutters'n'cel'ry, boi 'okey thurr bain't!"

"Yes, I'm inclined to agree with you, Foremole, but this one over here, the fawn-colored one with carrot and acorn in it, now that really goes well with mint tea. Try it."

"I like the plum'n'damson cup with chive and apple cheese. What's that one you've got, Tansy?"

"It's a sort of solid reddy one with radish and onion in it; it tastes marvelous with a sip of dandelion and burdock cordial."

The tasting went on at length. Ever the Recorder, Rollo had been jotting down notes on a length of bark parchment as he sipped and nibbled, taking heed of their opinions with his own choice.

When they were finished, Rollo gave the parchment to Furlo. "I've written it all down here, friend, which cheeses are matched with each drink by popular agreement."

Furlo Stump accepted the list gratefully. "Thankee all, now when there's a feast I only 'ave to glance at Teasel an' my brother 'iggle's menu, an' I knows which drinks to serve. You don't know 'ow much of an 'elp this'll be to us."

Foremole nodded his velvety head in agreement. "Burr aye, zurrs'n'missies, 'twill save a lot o' rushen abowt oop an' daown ee stairs on our ole paws, hurr hurr!"

Furlo cleared his barreltop table. "Now, wot service can I render you goodbeasts in return?''

Sitting in respectful silence they watched the stout hedgehog move the dead bee this way and that, peering closely at it. He made small tutting noises as he turned the object back and forth on the tabletop, shaking his head.

"This ain't one of our bees," he said. "We 'ave good ole honeybees at Redwall, they don't carry as much fuzz on 'em as this feller."

Brother Dormal nodded in agreement. "Aye, that's what I thought, Furlo. Perhaps it's a redtailed bumblebee, what d'you think?"

Furlo picked the bee up and brought it close to his eyes. "Redtailed bumblebee, eh? Well, you could be fergiven for thinkin' that, Brother, but this'n ain't no redtail, though it looks like one. I only ever seen a few o' these in my seasons. This is a mason bee, quite a rare insect in these parts."

Craklyn looked at the carcass questioningly. "A mason bee, what sort of hive does that live in?''

Furlo warmed to his subject. "Mason bees don't 'ave a hive, missie, they're solitary creatures. They'll burrow into the side of a wall, 'twixt the gaps in stones where the mortar's gone soft. Sometimes they'll do it in solid sand, like the dry side of a riverbank, though walls is mainly their favorite place. The male an' female roots out a single space, and there they leave one egg with honey an' nectar t'feed the young when it 'atches. They seal the nest with mud an' go off to build the next one."

Rollo threw up his paws in despair. "So we're not looking for a hive, just a crack in a wall! This is a big Abbey with lots of stonework, it could be anywhere!"

Furlo took off his work apron and patted Rollo's paw. "Don't look so down 'earted, sir. There's six of us altogether, and me'n Foremole will 'elp you look, 'tis the least we could do."