The Recorder of Redwall Abbey stared indignantly at Gerul. ‘Oh indeed? Somebeast took it, eh! From over halfway up the Abbey wall in a nest on a tiny ledge? Pray be good enough to tell me, sir, what sort of creature was it?’
Gerul finished his crumb-picking ablutions and hopped down to the floor, chuckling at the angry Recorder. ‘Ah, sure, yer gettin’ y’whiskers in a tizz over nothin’ at all. I hate leavin’ a luvly table o’ vittles like this, but if y’ll be kind enough t’follow me good self I’ll try t’help yer!’
The four friends followed Gerul up to Fermald’s attic. He waddled around the abandoned martin’s nest, touching it now and again with a hefty talon as he enquired, ‘An’ this is exactly as y’found it, just like it is now?’
‘Just as we found it,’ Tansy answered.
Gerul looked from one to the other. ‘An’ of course you all had yer eyes shut tight, did ye not?’
Piknim was running out of patience. ‘Silly owl, we had our eyes wide open,’ she said, stamping her paw down.
From amid the dried grass and mud of the nest Gerul picked a small greyish-black feather. ‘So, you had yer eyes open an’ never saw this, hah! Me ould mother would’ve given yez the length o’ her beak, so she would!’
Tansy twirled the feather in her paw, mystified. ‘What is it, Gerul?’
The owl hopped up onto the armchair and blinked at Tansy. ‘Faith, don’t y’know, missie? ’tis the neck feather of a jackdaw, the greatest robber ever to have an ould set of wings. Yore pearl was stolen by a jackdaw. They’ll have anythin’ shiny, the thievin’ blackguards, they’d have the eyes out o’ yer head if you weren’t watchin’ ’em, so me mother used t’say!’
Rollo plopped into the armchair glumly. ‘You mean to tell us that the fourth pearl was stolen by a jackdaw? It could be anywhere in Mossflower, or even beyond by now. How are we ever going to find it?’
Gerul leapt to the floor and started waddling off back to the remains of dinner in Great Hall.
‘Easy. I’ll show ye after breakfast tomorrer!’ he said.
Wullger the otter gatekeeper poked his head round the door of Great Hall and called to Auma, ‘Visitors t’see yer, marm, you too Skip!’
Led by Log a Log and half a score of burly otters, the Guosim shrews piled into the hall. Despite his still-healing wounds, Skipper dashed to meet them.
‘Ahoy, Rangapaw, you timed that nicely, dinner ain’t over yet. Log a Log, y’old son of a shrew, how are ye, matey!’
Greetings were exchanged as helpers ran to put out extra food for the newcomers. Log a Log and Rangapaw joined Auma and the otter Chieftain at the big table. Skipper poured October Ale for them, giving them a moment to slake their thirst.
Rangapaw was a large sleek otter. She stood almost a head taller than Skipper, her father. Mopping off a tankard of ale, she gave Skipper a friendly buffet across the back which nearly knocked him from his seat. He winked fondly at her.
‘Now then, y’great waterhound, stop knockin’ yore ole daddy about an’ make yore report.’
The big otter poured herself more October Ale. ‘Well, we travelled as fast as we could when word came from Log a Log that it was our mates the Redwallers in trouble, but we arrived too late. Ole Log a Log can tell you the rest; we met him on the shore.’
The Guosim Chieftain went on to explain how Lask Frildur and Romsca had sailed off with the Abbot and Martin had taken up pursuit of them with his small band. He told of Grath Longfletch rescuing Viola, then looked about, saying, ‘Is the volemaid not back yet? She should have arrived more’n a day ago.’
Auma looked shocked. ‘Back here? No. Surely Martin didn’t let the little maid travel alone?’
Log a Log shook his head. ‘Of course not, marm. She had an escort of two stout shrews. Hey, Jesat and Teno, what say you?’
Jesat and Teno stood forward. ‘We saw her right to the gates, marm. She thanked us politely, but insisted on going in by herself.’
Rangapaw quaffed her second tankard of ale and stood up. ‘Pack some o’ those vittles for me an’ the crew; we’ll go straight away an’ search for the liddle maid.’
When the otters had departed Log a Log patted Auma’s paw reassuringly. ‘Ahoy now, don’t fret y’self, marm. They’ll find her; and Martin an’ his crew won’t rest until they bring yore Abbot back ’ome. I know it, an’ you would too if’n you’d seen the iron in his eyes when he set sail after those wavescum. Hah! That’s one warrior they won’t shake off, I’d take me affidavit on that!’
‘That may be so,’ said Rollo. ‘But we must not slow down our search for the pearls; if we find the ransom, we may be able to save some bloodshed.’
A moment later Sister Cicely stormed in and banged the table with a medicine spoon. ‘I’ll wager nobeast has seen those three Dibbuns! They’re not in the dormitory, I’ve searched all around the Abbey . . .’
Tansy interrupted the irate Sister. ‘D’you mean Arven, Diggum and Gurrbowl?’
Cicely brandished the medicine spoon fiercely. ‘Who else! Oooh, just let me get my paws on that little wretch Arven, he’s the ringleader, the other two babes would follow him anywhere. I’ll dose him purple with nettle soup when I get him! I’ll bath him until his ears are bright red, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’
Auma interrupted the Sister sternly. ‘You’ll leave them to me, Cicely. After all, they are only Dibbuns. No doubt they’ll be hiding somewhere, like last time. I say let us wait until they get hungry enough to come out, then we’ll see what they have to say for themselves.’
At that moment the three Dibbuns in question were wandering deep in Mossflower Wood. Wullger had left the Abbey main gate ajar when he admitted the otters and Guosim shrews, and the three Abbeybabes had seized their chance. Armed with sticks and a blanket, which they intended to make into a tent, they set off. They also had a big fruitcake, a bag of candied chestnuts and a flask of strawberry cordial purloined from the kitchens.
Arven smiled to himself as he muttered to his willing companions, ‘Thissa time we get lotsa mucky and dusted, catcher some o’ those blizzards an’ smack ’em wiv our big sticks. Then they be gladder to see us, I betcher!’
Diggum waved her stick about savagely. ‘Bo urr, us’ns be orful turrible h’aminals.’
Gurrbowl agreed wholeheartedly. ‘Yurr, an us won’t mightn’t cumm back till we be growed up. Hurr hurr, we’m shout at ’em all an’ purrem up t’bed early!’
The soft folds of velvet summer night descended over the woodlands, silencing birdsong as the three tiny figures were swallowed up in still-warm darkness.
31
DAWN BROKE HOT and warm over a sheltered inlet on the northwest coast of Sampetra. The ebbing tide had thrown up some flotsam from the vessel Bloodkeel. Still intact, the rudder and tiller lay among the shells and seaweed festooning the tideline. Lashed to it by a heaving line were Rasconza the fox and his steersrat Guja. Pounded and battered by the seas, they coughed up salt water as they extricated themselves from the ropes, tiller and rudder that had kept them alive for almost two days on the ocean. The pair dragged themselves painfully over the shore, into the shadow of a rock overhang at the foot of a hill. There they found fresh water.
Greedily the two corsairs lapped at the tiny rivulet of cold, crystal-clear liquid which threaded thinly and dripped from the mossy underside of their shelter. Rasconza picked salt rime from his eye corners, gazing beyond the cove, out to where the deep ocean glimmered and shimmered in early morn.
The fox’s voice was rasping and painful, bitter and vengeful. ‘A full crew, matey, an’ we’re the only two left alive t’tell the tale!’
Guja had scraped some of the damp moss off with his dagger. He chewed it until there was no more moisture or nourishment left, then spat it out viciously. ‘Aye, Cap’n, all our shipmates, either drowned or eaten by the big fishes, every beastjack o’ them slain by Mad Eyes’ treachery!’
Rasconza unbuckled the saturated belt which held his daggers, and laid the weapons out one by
one on the grass. Selecting his favourite blade, he began honing it on a piece of rock. ‘Mark my words, Guja, the worst day’s work Ublaz ever did was to leave me alive. Though he don’t know it, his dyin’ day is near!’
As Chief Trident-rat, it was Sagitar’s duty to report to her Emperor morning and night. As she entered the pine marten’s throne room, Sagitar could see that Ublaz was in a foul mood. He slumped on his throne staring at the lifeless form of Grail, his messenger gull. The great black-backed bird had died of exhaustion bringing news back to its master.
Ublaz touched the limp wing feathers contemptuously with his footpaw. ‘Hah! Grail was the only one of my gulls to make it back, and now look at him – useless bundle of birdflesh!’
In the silence that followed, Sagitar shuffled nervously. Feeling it her duty to make some comment, she enquired meekly, ‘Did the bird bring good news of your pearls, Sire?’
Ublaz rose and, stepping over the dead gull, he stared out of the wide chamber window at the ocean beyond. ‘Lask Frildur and Romsca are sailing back to Sampetra. They didn’t get the pearls. Instead they’re bringing the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey as a hostage – the Tears of all Oceans are to be his ransom. What d’you think of that?’
Sagitar’s voice was apprehensive as she answered, ‘Well, at least you have something to bargain with, Sire . . .’
Ublaz whirled upon her, his eyes blazing angrily. ‘Bargain? I am Ublaz, Emperor of Seas and Oceans, I take! Twice my creatures have failed me. Twice! If I had gone after the pearls myself in the first place I would have them now, set in my new crown! There will be no more bargaining or playing of games. When that ship drops anchor here, we will sail again back to the land of Mossflower and Redwall Abbey. All of my ships and every creature on this island. That way there will be none left behind to seize power and plot behind my back. I will lead everybeast, Monitors, Trident-rats and corsairs, against Redwall. I will smash it stone from stone and rip those pearls from the wreckage. The ruins of that Abbey will remain as a marker to the deadbeasts that lie beneath them – the ones who tried to defy the might of Ublaz!’
Romsca ushered Abbot Durral into her cabin. With a few swift slashes of her sword she released him from his rope shackles. The corsair ferret sat Durral upon her bunk, issuing him with a beaker of seaweed grog and some hard ship’s biscuit.
The old mouse sipped at the fiery liquid, squinting without his eyeglasses as he stared curiously at Romsca.
‘Why are you helping me like this, my child?’
Romsca sheathed her cutlass blade firmly. ‘I ain’t yore child, I keep tellin’ yer, an’ I ain’t doin’ this to ’elp you, ’tis more fer my benefit you be kept alive. We’re sailin’ into bad cold weather, you wouldn’t last a day out on deck. Sit tight in ’ere an’ keep the door locked, d’ye hear?’
Abbot Durral smiled warmly at the wild-looking corsair. ‘You are a good creature, Romsca. What a pity you chose the life of a corsair.’
Romsca stood with one paw on the doorlatch. ‘It ain’t none o’ yore business wot I chose ter be,’ she said harshly, “tis a long hard story ’ow I come t’be wot I am. Any’ow, I likes bein’ a corsair an’ I ain’t ashamed o’ my life. Now you stay put, ole Durral, an’ don’t open this door to none but me. I don’t trust that Lask Frildur no more, he’s got a crazy look in ’is eyes of late.’
Slamming the cabin door, Romsca went aft. The weather was cold and the seas a slate grey. She faced for’ard and peered anxiously; the wind was dropping, a deep fogbank was looming up, and ice was beginning to form on the rigging. Turning, she looked aft, scanning the waters in the ship’s wake. Somewhere out along the eastern horizon Romsca thought she saw a small dark dot. She blinked and looked again, but she had lost the location of the dot owing to the ship’s movement on the oily waveless swell. A slithering sound behind Romsca caused her to turn swiftly, paw on swordhilt. Lask Frildur was standing there watching her. Though he looked cold and seasick there was a crafty glimmer in the Monitor General’s eyes.
‘Where have you hidden the Abbotmouze, Romzca?’ he hissed.
Romsca drew her cutlass and circled until the lizard was backed to the stern rail. She pointed the blade at him. ‘Never you mind about the Abbot, I’m takin’ charge o’ him. Keep yore distance, Lask; or I swear I’ll spit yer on this blade!’
Lask flicked his tongue at the corsair ferret. ‘Lzzzt! Food iz running low, weather iz growing colder, you have got uz lozt again.’
Romsca stared contemptuously at the Monitor. ‘Vittles is as short fer me’n’my crew as they are fer you an’ yore lizards. As fer the weather – well, it’ll get colder afore we’re out o’ these waters, an’ if you think I’ve got ye lost then yore welcome to navigate fer yerself. Other than that, you stay out o’ my way an’ don’t start any trouble that y’can’t finish.’
Lask stayed leaning on the rail, shivering, but still smiling slyly. ‘When I ztart trouble, Romzca, you will be the firzt to know!’
The longboat with the outriggers either side of it bobbed and swayed as Welko the shrew slid down from the masthead. Grath helped him to the narrow deck.
‘Well, was it the corsair ship you saw to the west?’ she asked.
Welko drew his cloak against the cold. ‘I’m not sure. I thought I saw a sail, then I lost sight of it. There could be fog ahead, mayhap she’s sailed into it.’
Clecky was seated aft, guarding a small cooking fire he had made on a bed of sand surrounded by slate. The lanky hare had taken to being very nautical. ‘Ahoy there, me heartychaps, grub – er, vittles are about ready,’ he called out to everyone. ‘I say, Plogg old cove, nip over into the larboard shrewboat an’ dig out a few apples, will you, there’s a good ol’ barnacle, wot?’
The two shrewboats that served as outriggers to the longboat were loaded with supplies; Martin had made space in the starboard one for Bladeribb, their searat captive. The searat stared sullenly at Plogg as the latter climbed across to the far logboat. The shrew rummaged through the ration packs before calling back to Clecky, ‘There’s not many apples left!’
Grath glared across at Bladeribb. ‘Have you been sneakin’ across at night an’ stealin’ apples?’
Martin patted Grath’s broad back. ‘No, he’s been right there all along, I’ve kept my eye on him. Clecky, you haven’t been pinching the odd half-dozen apples, have you?’
The hare’s ears stood up with indignation. ’Er, d’you mind belayin’ that statement, ol’ seamouse, I haven’t touched a single apple. Hmph! Bally cheek of some crewbeasts. Take a proper look over there, I’m sure you’ll find heaps of jolly ol’ apples rollin’ about somewheres, wot!’
Plogg began turning the packs over and checking them. Suddenly he gave a shout of alarm as he rolled back a crumpled canvas cover. Drawing his sword, Martin leapt aboard the logboat, only to find Plogg wrestling with a kicking, screaming Viola bankvole.
Martin caught her sharply by the ear. ‘What in the name of thunder are you doing here, miss? I told you to go back to the Abbey. You could have been drowned or injured or . . . or . . . How did you manage to stow away on this logboat, and what happened to Jesak and Teno?’
Viola wriggled free of the warrior’s grasp and skipped nimbly over to the longboat, where she hid behind Clecky, shouting, ‘I gave them the slip and doubled back and stole aboard while you were all drinking and naming the boat. I wasn’t drowned or injured, see! Told you I was going to help rescue Father Abbot, didn’t I! Well, what’re you going t’do now? You can’t turn back or throw me overboard!’
Grath Longfletch grinned and winked at the volemaid. ‘Yore right there, young ’un. My, yore a peppery one an’ no mistake. Looks like we’re stuck with you.’
Clecky looked over his shoulder, viewing the stowaway sternly. ‘You’re lucky we aren’t searats or those corsair bods, m’gel, or we’d have chucked you overboard to the fishes just t’save feedin’ you, wot!’
Martin shook his head in despair as he gazed at the defiant volemaid. ‘
Think of the distress you’ve caused Mother Auma and all your friends back at the Abbey. They probably think you’re still a prisoner aboard that ship with the Abbot. If you’d gone back to Redwall as I told you, it would have saved a load of worry for everybeast who cares what happens to you, miss!’
The sudden realization of what she had done caused tears to flood down Viola’s cheeks, and she hung her head in shame.
Martin could not bear to see a young creature so unhappy. He patted the volemaid’s head gently. ‘There, there, now, don’t cry. Your motives were good and I know you were only trying to help. Welcome aboard, Viola. Come on, smile, and we’ll try to make the best of it.’
They dined on toasted cheese and hot shrewbread, half an apple apiece and some oat and barley cordial. Martin carried a plateful across to Bladeribb; the searat was quite comfortable, wrapped in a cloak and a blanket.
The warrior once again questioned his captive. ‘Could that have been the vessel Waveworm that Welko sighted earlier? Are we on the right course?’
The searat grabbed his plate of food, nodding. ‘Aye, that’ll be ’er. You’ll be sailin’ into wintry seas now, cold an’ dangerous, fog an’ ice. If’n we gets through it you’ll prob’ly sight ’er agin in the good weather. She’ll be ’eaded due west towards the settin’ sun, like I told yer.’
Martin caught the searat’s paw as he was about to eat. ‘Play me false just once, Bladeribb, and I’ll slay you. Is that clear? Steer us true if you want to stay alive.’
The searat shrugged. ‘I’m bound t’die sooner or later, if not by your paw, then it’ll either be Lask Frildur or Ublaz Mad Eyes for allowin’ meself t’be taken captive.’
32
VIOLA GOT ON famously with Plogg and Welko, the sons of Log a Log. As night began setting over the deep, the small crew wrapped an old sailcloth around them and sat in a circle with Clecky’s little fire at the centre to keep out the intensifying cold.