Following him up the ornately carved staircase, they entered a roomy cabin with its skylights thrown open. It was a complete living area. Tables, chairs, bunks and cupboards were all about, clean and neat. Two mice, old and gray, were working at a table next to a big glowing stove with its smokepipe thrusting through the edge of the skylight. Vurg introduced them.

"This is all of us left from those who sailed off long ago from the north sh.o.r.es. Myself, Dulam and Denno."

The mouse called Denno went straight to Martin and took the Warrior's face gently in both his flour-dusted paws. "No need to tell ole Denno who you areI know. Luke's son Martin. Couldn't be no otherbeast. Yore the spittin' image o' the great Luke, though you got yore mother Sayna's eyes."

Martin shook visibly, blinking hard. "You knew my mother?"

Denno nodded. "Course I did, an' a prettier, more gentle creature there never was. I knew 'em all, Martin, everybeast. But we've got all night to talk of that. Sit and rest now, the food will be ready soon."

Barnacle ca.s.serole was a delicious concoction of sea vegetables and sh.e.l.lfish. Guosim cooks hurried back to the Honeysuckle Honeysuckle and brought up more supplies. Beau relented, and aided by Folgrim and Trimp he began mixing a big plum pudding. Gonff helped the Guosim cooks to bake scones and bread. Martin and Chugger cut up an excellent cheese, studded with beech mast and hazelnuts. Dinny put together a salad with any spare vegetables he rooted out. Mint tea was put on to boil, and dandelion and burdock cordial poured from a keg into serving jugs. and brought up more supplies. Beau relented, and aided by Folgrim and Trimp he began mixing a big plum pudding. Gonff helped the Guosim cooks to bake scones and bread. Martin and Chugger cut up an excellent cheese, studded with beech mast and hazelnuts. Dinny put together a salad with any spare vegetables he rooted out. Mint tea was put on to boil, and dandelion and burdock cordial poured from a keg into serving jugs.

After the tables were pushed together and set, they sat down. Gonff proposed a toast.

"To the end of a journey, to my best friend Martin the Warrior an' to the wonderful vittles an' good hospitality showed to us by the crew of the Arfship! Arfship!

Everybeast raised their beakers and drank cheerfully. As they ate, Furmo could not resist asking the question that was puzzling him greatly.

"Tell me, Vurg, 'ow did the for'ard half of a great ship land up 'ere? It just don't seem possible."

Vurg munched shrewbread and cheese as he explained. "Yore right, mate, I wouldn't 'ave believed it meself if'n I hadn't been aboard at the time, but 'ere's how it came about. Durin' the biggest storm anybeast'd ever seen, the Goreleech Goreleech for that was once wot this ship was calledstruck that big rock pillar out in front. I tell ye, waves twice as high as this vessel were runnin' on a sea driven by wind an' rain. 'Twas more like a hurricane than a gale. Well, she whacked that big rock side on, with a force you couldn't imagine. Smashed the for that was once wot this ship was calledstruck that big rock pillar out in front. I tell ye, waves twice as high as this vessel were runnin' on a sea driven by wind an' rain. 'Twas more like a hurricane than a gale. Well, she whacked that big rock side on, with a force you couldn't imagine. Smashed the Goreleech Goreleech clean in two, like an 'ot knife goin' through b.u.t.ter. On board the for'ard part were oarslaves an' Sea Rogues doin' battle. We were flung to the decks like wet leaves in a wind. There was screamin', shoutin' an' weepin'everybeast was sure they'd met their deaths. The stern half fell backward into the sea, and sank in the blink of an eye. clean in two, like an 'ot knife goin' through b.u.t.ter. On board the for'ard part were oarslaves an' Sea Rogues doin' battle. We were flung to the decks like wet leaves in a wind. There was screamin', shoutin' an' weepin'everybeast was sure they'd met their deaths. The stern half fell backward into the sea, and sank in the blink of an eye.

Now, the same great wave that sank it carried us, an' the other half, swirlin' 'round to the back of the big rock. Down, down we went as the wave ebbed away in a torrent of suckin' an' whirlin', an' we thought we was surely done for. Then another giant wave rounded the rock an' lifted us, easy as a paw lifts a grain o' sand. Up we rose, up, up, high in the air. From where I lay on the deck, I saw the two pinnacles as the wavecrest flung us forward. Suddenly a shudderin' shock ran through me from tail to eartips. Then everythin' went still.

"I opened me eyes and stood up. We were wedged fast, right up 'ere, the broken midships restin' flat on a ledge of one column, the prow on another, with the big iron spike that stuck out front, driven like a nail, deep into the rock!"

Gonff forgot the beaker which was halfway to his lips, and sat shaking his head. "An' what happened next, Vurg?"

The old mouse chuckled as he speared a scone with his knife. "Me'n'Beau rallied our fighters fast an' finished off those sc.u.mmy Sea Rogues afore they 'ad a chance t'get us. We've lived 'ere ever since. Nothin'll shift the ole Arfship. Arfship. She's weathered time'n'tides, storm an' seasons, aye, an' never budged a splinter. After a while we made a rope cradle an' rigged a line over t'the cliffs on sh.o.r.e. Many creatures left an' went off t'find their ole homes. A score of us stayed 'ere. But that was long ago. Now there's only Dulam, Denno, me'n'Beau left out o' them all. Most o' our mates died. They're wrapped in sailcloth, weighted down with stones, sleepin' on the seabed far below us. Fates be kind t'their memories!" She's weathered time'n'tides, storm an' seasons, aye, an' never budged a splinter. After a while we made a rope cradle an' rigged a line over t'the cliffs on sh.o.r.e. Many creatures left an' went off t'find their ole homes. A score of us stayed 'ere. But that was long ago. Now there's only Dulam, Denno, me'n'Beau left out o' them all. Most o' our mates died. They're wrapped in sailcloth, weighted down with stones, sleepin' on the seabed far below us. Fates be kind t'their memories!"

Martin decided that the time had come. "Tell me, Vurg, what became of my father, Luke the Warrior?"

Beau rose stiffly and went to a cupboard. He returned to the table with a large, dusty volume. " 'Tis all within these pages, Martin, everything, as best as the four of us can recall. We spent many a winter an' autumn night recordin' the entire tale. 'Twas a joint work. D'y'know, I thought it might be found by somebeast, long after we were gone. But fate an' fortunes've smiled on us, laddie buck. There's food'n'drink on the table an' a long night ahead of us, wot! Here, Denno, you young whipper-snapper, you can understand your own writing best. Read the journal to our friends, there's a good chap!"

Denno polished a tiny pair of gla.s.ses. Perching them on his nose, he looked over at Martin. "I was the scribe, y'see. Right, let's start at the beginning. I 'ope you like the t.i.tle. 'Tis called 'In the Wake of the Red Ship,' this being an account of Luke the Warrior, written by his friends."

Outside, the eternal seas washed against Tall Rocks, and breezes sighed a wistful dirge about the basalt columns where seabirds wheeled and called. In the cabin, high among the pinnacles, Martin of Redwall listened as the saga of his father, Luke the Warrior, unfolded.

Book 2

Luke

Chapter 17.

There were other mice in the tribe, older and more experienced, younger mice also, bigger and stronger. But everybeast regarded Luke as their natural leader. As mice? go, he was nothing special to look upon, of average height and stocky build. However, on closer observation it became obvious that Luke was a warrior born. Behind his calm dark eyes there lurked a flame, his stance bespoke fearlessness, some indefinable quality in his whole att.i.tude marked him as one in whom others could put their unquestioning trust. A mouse tribe could look to him for guidance, and he could always be counted on for fairness and wisdom in his decisions. Such a creature was Luke the Warrior.

Over many seasons the tribe had wandered under his leadership. Long ago they had left the warm areas of abundance, those places where verminous villains preyed upon any who sought the peaceful life. Constant warfare against outnumbering odds had forced Luke's tribe into the nomadic way, always seeking and searching for some place where they would not have to sleep paw on sword, with one eye open. From the fertile middle lands they roamed north, where the weather was cold and the land bleak and spa.r.s.e. On the day they reached the northland coast, Luke thrust his sword into the earth. This would be his tribe's new home. It was a lonely place, quiet and undisturbed.

The tribe approved Luke's decision. Hardworking beasts could wrest a living from the ground here, providing they were left in peace to do so. There were caves in the base of the cliffs which backed the sh.o.r.e, a high rocky cape thrusting out into the sea at the southern point. It felt safe, with cliffs at the back and the seas in front of them. There was good soil on the clifftops, which could be planted and farmed in spring, summer and autumn.

For the first few days they kept a low profile, living off what supplies they had stored, making the caves habitable. During this time, Luke and his friends patrolled the area, watching out for enemies, robber bands and vermin raiders. Luke knew that his tribe was only a small one, wearied by constant travel, and would not be able to resist any major attack from a large force. But happily there was neither sight nor trace of foebeast.

Then, on the fourth day, Luke strode ahead of the rest as they made their way back to the caves. His step was light, and a shudder of joy ran through him. He felt that this forsaken northland coast was already bringing him happiness. Only two days before, his wife Sayna had given birth to their first little one, a son. They would call the new baby mouse by the name of Martin. Luke's grandsire had been named Martin, and when he was young, Luke had often listened to tales that were told of the formidable Warrior mouse. It was his sword that Luke carried in the sheath on his back, given to him by his own father. Luke was the third of his family to carry the old battleblade, and one day, when the time was right, little Martin would be the next.

The tribe was busy preparing a feast for Luke and Sayna's son, the first little one to be born on the northland coast. There was to be a great bonfire, too. As Luke came within sight of the caves, he could see the ever growing mound of driftwood and dead timber being piled above the tideline. Two young mice were struggling to drag a big chunk of driftwood along the sh.o.r.e. Luke approached them, a smile hovering on his face at their efforts.

"Well well, Timballisto and Fripple, when d'you plan on gettin' that log to the bonfire pile, next season?"

Both mice were little better than three seasons old. They sat down wearily on the log, big round eyes imploring Luke.

" 'S too blinkin' big for us, Luke. Will y'lend a paw?"

The Warrior mouse drew his ancient battlesword from its sheath on his back and swung it high overhead, bringing the sharp blade down to bite deep into the wood.

"Righto, you two rascals, grab ahold of the swordhilt with me. We'll see if it moves any easier with us three strong beasts pulling it. Come on!"

Heaving energetically, Luke tugged the lump of wood through the sand. He watched fondly as the two little mice pulled valiantly, each latched onto the crosshilt.

When they brought the log to the pile of timber, Luke allowed Fripple and Timballisto to help him loose the swordblade, though he could have easily done it alone. He pa.s.sed a paw across his brow, winking at them. "Whew! Thankee, mates, 'twas a job well done!"

The little mousemaid Fripple took hold of Luke's paw. "Please, Luke, will y'take me to your cave to see your new baby Martin, please, Luke?"

Luke could not help chuckling at the beseeching look on Fripple's face. He tweaked her paw gently. "Of course I will, pretty one. What about you, Timbal?"

Timballisto scowled fiercely. "I'll stay 'ere an' guard our wood 'til y'get back!"

Martin's cradle was a hollowed-out log, lined with soft moss and a woven blanket. The only family Luke had left in the world sat by it, his wife Sayna and her mother Windred. Crowing with delight, Fripple leaned over the cradle and took the baby's paw in hers. "Oh my my, isn't he a lovely likkle feller!"

Sayna held the mousemaid's smock, lest she fall into the cradle. "Aye, he's a good baby, no trouble at all. I think he will grow bigger and stronger than his daddy."

Martin's eyes watched solemnly as his father loomed over him. He raised a tiny paw, reaching for the hilt protruding over his father's shoulder. This delighted Luke.

"Hoho, look at this bucko, tryin' to draw my sword!"

Windred hovered around the cradle anxiously. "Be careful, he might cut himself on that blade!"

Luke rea.s.sured the fussing old mousewife. "Oh no he won't. Martin's a warrior born, I feel it. Let my son hold the sword. It'll be his one day."

Sayna watched her serious-faced babe trying to wrap his little paws around the blackbound haft with its redstone pommel. She shivered slightly. "May the fates forbid that he'll ever have to use it in war."

Luke released Martin's hold and stood up straight. "Don't worry, Sayna. That'll never happen while I'm around. Besides, I don't think we'll be bothered here, being this far north. We searched the sh.o.r.es an' cliffs both ways. There's nothin' much to the south, an' if you go farther north there's only some great tall rocks stickin' up out o' the sea about three days from here. Not a pawprint of vermin anywhere. Now, what about our son's feast?"

Windred turned to the cave entrance. Out on the sh.o.r.e the mice of the tribe were setting out what food they had foraged by the unlit bonfire. Each had brought what they could afford to spare, but it was not much. Windred spoke. "Hah! Feast, you say? 'Tis a wonder we keep fur around bone on this forsaken coast. You've brought us to a cold an' hungry place, Luke!"

Sayna checked Windred reprovingly. "That's not fair, mother. 'Tis not Luke's fault. Where the food was plentiful, so were our enemies. At least we have safety up here, and when spring comes we'll be able to farm and plant the clifftop lands. Luke says there's good soil up there. What about those berries old Twoola saw yesterday?"

Luke glanced from one to the other. "What berries? Where did Twoola see them?"

Sayna explained. "He took a walk last evening, north along the sh.o.r.e, and said he saw lots of berries growing in a rift near the clifftop. But there were great seabirds up there, too, nesting. I thought it might be dangerous, which is why I didn't mention it yesterday. Seabirds can be very fierce creatures."

Luke patted his swordhilt. "Aye, an' so am I when our tribe needs food. Leave it to me. I'll take some good well-armed fighters with me, and Twoola can show us the spot. We won't harm the seabirds if they don't attacktis, and I don't think they will, for what need have they of berries? Seabirds live on what they can scavenge from the sea and the tideline. We'll gather the fruit and uproot a few young bushes to plant on the clifftops back here. Now there's no cause for worry or fuss. I'll leave some warriors back here to guard our camp, and I'll be back as soon as I can, with whatever we find up there. Carry on with the feastthe youngsters are expecting it. I'll try to return before 'tis finished."

Sayna placed Luke's warm cloak about his shoulders. "You'll need this. It gets cold out there at night. Bring me back a little blackberry bramble, and I'll plant it so that Martin will be able to help me pick the berries in a few seasons."

Windred adjusted the cloak around Luke's sword. "Aye, and be careful out there. This is still strange country to us, Luke."

With a score and a half of good mice that he could depend upon, Luke set out north along the sh.o.r.e. However, they could only travel as fast as old Twoola, and the ancient mouse hobbled along at a slow creaky gait. It was close to midnight when the foraging party reached the high crag where the berries grew. Twoola sat down wearily upon the sand, pointing upward. "That's the place, Luke, but I ain't goin' up there. Some o' those seabirds are big as eagles!"

Luke took off his cloak and wrapped it around the old fellow. "You did well getting us this far, Twoola. Stay here and restwe'll go up. Vurg, Denno, bring those ropes."

By those who knew the coasts and high seas, one name was whispered with terror and loathing.

Vilu Daskar!

The pirate stoat was known by other names. Butcher, thief, torturer, murderer. But none more frightening than his own.

Vilu Daskar!

Captain of the biggest vessel ever to plough the main. A trireme, with three banks of oars, pulled by wretched slaves. Crimson red, from the pennants fluttering at its forepeaks, down through the four mighty sails to its gigantic keel. Always leaving behind it a thin red wake, from the dyes which oozed out of its timbers. Jutting out from the prow stood an immense iron spike, rusted red by long seasons of salt water. Such was the red ship, named the Goreleech Goreleech by its master. by its master.

Vilu Daskar!

Evil was his trade, the red ship his floating fortress. Aboard it he could disappear into the trackless wastes of seas and oceans, materializing again to prey on the unwary. Coastal settlements, inland hamlets, even the island havens of other Sea Raiders and Corsairs. None were safe from the Goreleech Goreleech and its bloodthirsty crew, a mob of wild cruel vermin. Mercenaries, a.s.sa.s.sins, cutthroats, the flotsam and jetsam of earth and waters. These Sea Rogues were ruled by two things alone: a l.u.s.t for plunder and slaughter, and a blood-chilling fear of their lord. and its bloodthirsty crew, a mob of wild cruel vermin. Mercenaries, a.s.sa.s.sins, cutthroats, the flotsam and jetsam of earth and waters. These Sea Rogues were ruled by two things alone: a l.u.s.t for plunder and slaughter, and a blood-chilling fear of their lord.

Vilu Daskar!

He reveled in the dread his name instilled into all.

In the 'tweendecks of the Goreleech, Goreleech, relentless drums pounded incessantly. Chained to the oars, ma.s.ses of gaunt slaves bent their backs and pulled, straightening with a joint groan as they heaved on the long wooden sweeps. To the accompaniment of slave drivers cracking their whips and the ever-present drumbeat, the red ship sailed into the waters off northcoast. relentless drums pounded incessantly. Chained to the oars, ma.s.ses of gaunt slaves bent their backs and pulled, straightening with a joint groan as they heaved on the long wooden sweeps. To the accompaniment of slave drivers cracking their whips and the ever-present drumbeat, the red ship sailed into the waters off northcoast.

Vilu Daskar leaned against the stern gallery rail, his alert dark eyes watching constantly, like a snake about to strike. Unlike other seagoing vermin, he was highly intelligent, well-spoken and modestly garbed. He wore a long red cloak, beneath which was a plain black tunic, belted by a broad red calico sash through which was thrust a long bone-handled scimitar. The only concession to finery was his headgear, a white silken scarf bound about his brow, atop of which he wore a rounded silver helmet with a spike at its center. Tall and sinewy, he cut a quietly elegant figure, unlike the crew under his command, all arrayed in a jumble of tattered finery and sporting heavy tattoos and ma.s.ses of gaudy earrings, necklets and bracelets.

Evening light was fading fast over the cold seas when, from high on the mainmast, a searat called Grigg sang out from the crow's nest: "Laaaand awaaaay off larboard, cap'n. I sees a light onsh.o.r.e, sire, to the north o' that rocky point!"

Vilu flicked his eyes in the direction given, without moving his body. Akkla, the ferret steersbeast, held the ship's wheel steady, awaiting his captain's command. Even if it meant running the Goreleech Goreleech onto rocks, he knew better than to change course without Vilu's order. onto rocks, he knew better than to change course without Vilu's order.

The stoat spoke without raising his voice. "Sweep south and take her in behind that big rock point."

Two other vermin stood waiting as Vilu peered hard at the faint glow, far off on the sh.o.r.eline. He issued orders to them without turning, knowing they would obey instantly.

"Reef and furl all sails, and increase the oarstroke to double double speed. We need to get out of sight quickly."

Abruptly he strode off for'ard, where his bosun, the sear at Parug, had a better view of the sh.o.r.e.

"So, my keen-eyed bosun, what do you see?"

Parug scratched at his beribboned whiskers, plainly bewildered. " 'Tis 'ard to tell, cap'n. Ho, that's a fire right enough, an' a good big 'un, t'be seen from this distance, sire."

A thin smile hovered on Vilu's lips. "But?"

The bemused bosun shook his head. "But anybeast'd be mad t'light a fire that big on northland sh.o.r.e. Wot are they up to, cap'n?"

Vilu lost sight of the glow as the Goreleech Goreleech turned south, the headland blocking his view. "Well, no creature in their right mind would set up a signal beacon on that sh.o.r.e, so they are either out of their minds, or ignorant of the danger. Maybe that's it, Parug, they might merely be simple beasts having some kind of celebration, eh?" turned south, the headland blocking his view. "Well, no creature in their right mind would set up a signal beacon on that sh.o.r.e, so they are either out of their minds, or ignorant of the danger. Maybe that's it, Parug, they might merely be simple beasts having some kind of celebration, eh?"

Parug's dull face broke out in a grin. "Oh, like a kinda feast, y'mean, sire?"

The stoat's paw strayed to his bone-handled scimitar. "Quite. Not very courteous of them. The least they could have done was to invite us!"

Parug's grin widened. "So we anchors the other side o' yon point, comes over the rocks, an' invites ourselves, eh, cap'n?"

Vilu stroked the white bone scimitar hilt. "Exactly. We might not attend the feast, but the least I can do is present my calling card."

Parug stared blankly at his captain. "Callin' card? Wot's a callin' card, sire?"

With lightning speed the scimitar blade's tip was touching the bosun's throat. "This is my calling card!"

Parug's throat bobbed nervously under the sharp bladetip. "Oh, er, I see, sire, er, haha!"

Vilu Daskar tired of the one-sided conversation. He put up his sword and strode off.

Darkness had fallen. Luke's tribe laughed and sang around the bonfire, unaware of the big red ship anchoring on the other side of the south point.

Chapter 18.

Luke threw the first rope up into the darkness. A moment later he heard the wooden bar tied to its end clack upon some rocks. He tugged it, making sure the bar held in the rocks it had wedged itself among. Paw over paw Luke went up, whispering to Vurg, "Follow on with the other rope, mate, but be quiet. We don't want to disturb any of those seabirds."

Vurg climbed up after him, and they balanced together, lodging their footpaws in the sides of the fissure. Luke took the second rope and began twirling it, paying the coils out as he swung it wider before throwing it strongly upward.

This time there was no sound of wood striking stone, but the rope went taut. A gruff friendly voice called down in quaint speech, "Oi got et, zurr, oi'll make ee rope farst whoile ee clamber up yurr!"

Vurg grabbed Luke's paw in the darkness. "Sounds like a mole t'me. What d'you think, Luke?"

"Aye, 'tis a mole sure enough, though what he's doin' up a cliff I don't know. He sounds friendly enough, anyway. Come on!"

Both mice climbed until they reached a flat ledge, where there were several other moles and some hedgehogs to meet them. The mole who had hailed them took tinder and flint and lit a lantern, rumbling on in his curious mole dialect.