Chapter 17

The northern wallgate was propped shut to slow the Redwallers' pursuit. The vermin party ran through the forest, the sword safely sheathed on Rosno's back. When they were sure they had lost their pursuers, Rosno raised his paw. "C'mon mates, westward, th' Blackhull's waitin'!"

"The Blackhull??" Fayde glared, pawing at his bleeding ear. "We're goin' back t'camp with that sword! Ain't no treachery gonna be allowed by this cap'n!" He eyed the precious blade.

"Yew ain't gonna stop us, horderat," Rosno challenged. "Come wid' us or die."

"Gimme that sword!" Fayde as he lunged for the sheath, greedily and wide-eyed.

He fell forward inches from Rosno's footpaw, a corsair dagger in his back. Rosno eyed the rat coldly and kicked his limp, outstretched paw. "Kill them all," he ordered without looking up. The remaining four hordebeasts backed away, drawing their blades and watching the corsairs menacingly. Before they could blink an eye two went down with a dagger in their throat. The third fought helplessly but was swiftly run through. The last hordebeast turned and ran, but found himself face to face with Rosno, who clouted him in the head with his cutlass. The horderat sunk like a stone.

Rosno turned his nose. "Landlubbers," he mumbled. Then, raising his paw, he led his corsairs on and disappeared into the mist, the Sword of Martin strapped on his back.

.

"This way," Mother Brilla called. "I hear something." The Redwallers ran in blind pursuit through the pouring rain until they came to a small clearing.

Brilla stopped, causing the others to check themselves abruptly. She took in the scene before her slowly. "Fur and fang," she whispered. "Our search is over."

.

There had been quite a commotion when Mother Brilla and Skipper had burst into the Abbey carrying a bleeding, unconscious rat between them. He was put into the Infirmary and tended to hesitantly by Sister Sara. There was an enormous gash on his head, which the Infirmary Keeper did her best to bandage. "I don't think he'll live out the night, Mother Brilla," she said softly.

"He has to," the Badger Mother said grimly. "The sword's still missing, and I'm afraid he's the only beast who can tell us where it is."

Sister Sara nodded.

.

The next morning Cavern Hole was all abuzz. Tera had been tended to with only a minor bruise, and in light of the royal treatment she was receiving, she soon forgot the trauma of the previous night. Then there was talk of a rat up in the Infirmary with Sister Sara. For some this spelled outrage. For others it was a great curiosity.

Leslie, Lingen, and Stikle found this especially intriguing, although Stikle was not allowed to leave the sight of his parents, as they were heading back to Treestone as soon as the minor flooding of the previous night cleared up. But the mousemaid and squirrel soon found their opportunity to steal upstairs. They stood outside the Infirmary where two sturdy otters stood guard, but before they could knock they heard a loud crash from inside. They stood back as the door swung open and a surprised Sister Sara and angry Brilla slammed it behind them. "That's it," she growled. "Slimy ingrate, nobeast throws a tray at Brilla the badger."

"What about the sword, Mother?" Sara asked.

Brilla growled again.

"I don't know, Sister."

As the two went downstairs with the remains of the rat's breakfast, Leslie and Lingen looked at each other. The mousemaid shrugged. "He's awake then."

.

Later that day Abbess Avelle came with Brilla and Sara to check on their patient. "He's locked himself in there," the Badger Mother said.

"Have you found out his name?" the Abbess asked.

"Yes," Sister Sara answered, "he said it last night. Clotfin, they call him. He talked to me early this morning for a bit. He said he wasn't always a hordebeast, he used to be a sailor. That's all he said. Mother Abbess, I'm concerned. He's on the verge of dying, and raving mad right now. He won't let us help him."

"We'll never get him to tell us where the sword is if he won't talk to us," said Mother Brilla. "We're stuck."

.

Things did not change as the day progressed. The rat kept himself locked in the Infirmary, pacing the room and talking to himself incessantly. At other times there would be a scratching noise on the door, but he never unlocked it.

That evening the otters reported that the rat had ceased all sound and movement. There had been a small crash, then nothing. Mother Brilla raced up the stairs. "Sorry, Sister," she said, and in two blows tore the door off its hinges and ran into the room. Sister Sara followed.

Mother Brilla turned and stopped her, shaking her head. "Sorry, Sister," she said again. "He's dead."

.

"I wonder what he was like," Lingen Reguba said to Leslie as they slowly entered the empty Infirmary. It was a few hours after Clotfin the rat had gone on to Dark Forest, and although nobeast but Sister Sara really knew anything about him, he had received a proper burial.

"He was vermin," Leslie answered. "But I guess even some vermin aren't necessarily bad. Like the Silvercoats. I wonder..." She pondered with her friend. "I wonder what his life was like before he got mixed up in all this. Sister Sara said he hadn't always been a hordebeast. He had done some sailing before that. Maybe he was a first mate. Or even a captain?" The mousemaid shrugged, then slapped her tail on the floor abruptly. "This is nonsense. We should go."

As the pair was about to leave the room, they stopped suddenly when they saw the door. It was impossible to tell who saw it first, but at the same moment the mouse and squirrel pointed at the unhinged door, saying to the other, "What's that?" They laughed, and then straightened it so they could see exactly what it was they had noticed. On the inside of the Infirmary door, there was a poem that had been scratched in with a knife. "Clotfin," Lingen whispered. Leslie nodded and read:

"Let the words of the dying,
I who have been made weak,
Aid you on your journey
To regain that which you seek.

Tread your own shadows-
Let your backs be warm.
Steer clear the quarries
To be safe from harm.
South you must go-
Avoid the grasses tall
Till you reach the river wide.
Mark well the heron's call;
Follow the waters out;
Be on your guard, friend,
There will be many beasts
To face before its end.
At the sea's waters, due north
Is the mountain of fire-
Receive what aid you will
But stay not long, nor tire.
South is where you must go
The great fortress of the sea-
Trust not the foxlord red
And return victoriously."

The friends looked at each other, trying to think of something to say. They couldn't, of course. Finally Leslie grabbed her friend by the tail and led him in tow. "C'mon, we'd better get going, before we're missed."

.

By that night, the poem had begun to grow and gnaw at the mind of Leslie the mousemaid. When she was sure Sister Sara was asleep, she sneaked out and went to Polly's dormitory. Everybeast there was asleep as well, so she silently found the bed of her friend, who was snoring happily. She clapped a paw over his mouth and roused Lingen with a slap to the belly. He looked up, trying to yelp but finding his mouth covered. Leslie put a finger to her mouth, motioning to be quiet and follow her. When they were outside the room on the stairway, Lingen, who was not at all happy at his interrupted slumbers, asked, "What's wrong, Leslie? It's the middle of the night."

"It's that poem," she whispered. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. That and Martin's sword. And... I'm going to get it back."

"Are you mad? We don't know where it is."

"Shh! We don't, but Clotfin did."

"Leslie!" started Lingen, but his mouth was covered up again.

"You'll wake the entire Abbey, acornbreath. Let's go outside with it."

When they got outside Leslie immediately took charge. "Now, we can't very well bring the door with us, so we'll need a parchment to copy the poem onto. I'll go--"

"Hold on, bossywhiskers! Who said we were going anywhere?"

"I did, of course," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Well, did I agree to it?"

Leslie crossed her arms. "Lingen Reguba, I'm going to go get this Abbey's sword back from whomever took it. I do not ask you to come with me, that's up to you. I was only hoping for the support of my best friend. But if that's too much to ask, then I'll just go it alone."

Before Lingen could come up with an answer to this, another voice chimed in. "Wot's this then? Where're ye goin' at this hour o' th' night?"

Leslie recognized the voice. "Stikle Furgin, what are you up to?" she demanded.

"What am I up to, missie? I 'eard a noise an' followed it outside. What are you up to?"

The mousemaid sighed. "Very well, Lingen and I are going to get the sword of Martin the Warrior back. Now you'd better get back before your family notices you're gone."

"Bosh," the hedgehog shrugged. "They're all asleep, they wouldn't know 'til morning. Let me come with you."

"Now hold on!" Lingen put in. "Lingen and you are what?"

Leslie sighed again. "Oh, very well," she said to Stikle. "The squirrel's staying here, but I am ever so grateful for the presence of a friend such as yourself, Stikle. At least there's someone I can count on. C'mon, I've got to get some parchment."

Leslie and Stikle left with the squirrel in their toll, who followed, saying, "Hold on, hold on! I never said I wasn't coming, I was-- Oh, slow down. You'd think you were in a race. Well, this is one squirrel who isn't going to be left behind. Aren't you listening? I said,--"

"Shh!" Leslie turned. "I heard you. You're going to wake up the whole of Mossflower. Now stay here while I get the parchment. Surely I can trust you with that."

Leslie climbed the stairs to the gatehouse and slowly opened the door. Entering, she shut it behind her and went to light a lantern. The light illuminated the small room to reveal an aged mouse sitting in the room, watching her. Leslie gasped and nearly dropped the lantern. "M- Martin?" she said, her heart racing from shock.

"No," the figure said, "worse. Lucas."

"Brother Lucas!" she whispered. "I was-- just-- I--"

The Recorder laughed. "I know what you were doing," he said, leaning forward. "Martin told me."

Leslie looked up at the name. "You dreamt of him too?"

"Aye, I did."

"What did he say?"

"You know what he said, he spoke it to you also. That's why you're up here, it is not?"

"Yes, Brother Lucas. I was getting some parchment. Lingen and I, we found a poem in the Infirmary--"

Brother Lucas stopped her. "Aye, yes, the poem," he laughed. "So I wasn't the onlybeast to notice it. I have a copy already written, if you wouldn't mind taking it off my paws."

"Thank you, Brother Lucas," Leslie said as she received the parchment and made ready to leave.

"Hold on, young Leslie," the Brother said. "There was more that Martin spoke. He spoke of your family."

Leslie stopped and turned around. "My family? But I'm-- an orphan. Nobody ever knew my family."

"We never did. But Martin, on the other paw, is a different story. He told me something tonight, about you. He said you had the blood of a warrior in you. I laughed, because I already knew that. He said no, you had the blood of a Warrior-- Matthias's family, no less."

Leslie was speechless. "Matthias," she breathed at last.

"Aye, Matthias. Matthias never knew it, but he had a family as well. His grandfather's name was Matthias, a great warrior and chieftain. His father's brother, Martin said, had also died opposing Cluny the Scourge, way back in the Vermin Wars. He had a son, Marklo, who was carried to safety. Marklo, too, devoted his life to the protection of the weak. He married and passed on this calling to his son, who in time passed it on to his own children." Lucas placed a paw on Leslie's head gently. "That is your line. Your parents were noble as any; Martin would not tell me how they died, but only that they died honorably. You are a daughter of Matthias the Old, and that is something to be proud of." Lucas took the lantern from her, placing it on an empty table. "You'd better be off then."

.

Leslie walked back down the stairs, parchment in hand. Something had happened to her up there, but neither Stikle nor Lingen knew exactly what it was or how to ask. She broke the silence. "I've got the poem. Brother Lucas was in the gatehouse, but don't worry, he said he wasn't going to stop us. Quite the opposite."

"Then oughtn't we be going?" Lingen asked impatiently. "We'd better get as much ground covered as possible before morning comes and they find us missing."

"Hurr, you'm ain't a-missin', oi sees ee wit' moi own eyes. Burr aye." How he had made his way into the group unnoticed, nobeast knew, but Leslie turned at the sound of the voice and found Grubo the mole among them.

"Grubo! You too, eh?" Leslie scolded.

Lingen rolled his eyes and sighed hard. "How many more are going to pop up before we actually leave?"

Leslie ignored him. "What are you doing here, Grubo? You should be asleep."

"Hurr, oi followed ee. You'm wuz quoite loud when ee were talkin' to zurr Lingah, so oi decoided to see what ee wurr up to."

Leslie looked at the squirrel. "I told you," she muttered. "Well, we're going on a trip and we don't want to be followed, so please don't give a word about this to anybeast, alright?"

Grubo stomped his footpaw. "Oi won't tell nobeast, oi bain't no tartletell! Oi bain't been a Dibbun for ee whole seezun, oi be's a growed mole now!"

"Good then," Leslie laughed. "You'd better get back now, we've got a long way to go tonight and a short time to do it."

"Hurr," Grubo grunted persistantly. "They'm treat me loike ee choild 'ere, carn't oi cumm with you? Mayhaps they'm'll start treatin' oi as ee growed beast. Oi promises on moi honor, oi won't get in ee way!"

Lingen shook his head. "I don't think so, Leslie, it's not such a good idea."

"It'll be too dangerous," Stikle agreed. "He'd be better off--"

"Martin," Leslie interrupted firmly. "Martin the Warrior."

"Pardon?" Lingen asked.

"Martin the Warrior. He was the one who said to go, and told Brother Lucas to help us. Grubo, you can come."

Stikle looked at her. "But what's Martin got to do with this?"

"Think about it. Martin already said for Lingen and me to go, and brought you to help us. He may have sent Grubo as well. I think he should come. We may thank Martin for it later."

"Ahh," Stikle said after a pause. "I guess may'aps you're right."

Lingen threw in as well. "Me too, either way, the more the merrier. C'mon, Grubo." He looked around. "Grubo?"

Grubo called to them from outside the opened gates. "Burr, ee best be getten ee move on, zurrs and mizz, bain't but ee few hours t'sunroise! Hurr!"