High Rhulain

Leaning out of the window, the four Redwallers watched as the gannet made a bumbling attempt at flight but lost height immediately. The huge bird fell onto an outward sloping roof below, then rolled off and plunged earthward, still flapping about like a huge, rumpled quilt. A thickly blossoming rhododendron, growing beside the Abbey wall, finally broke the bird’s fall. From there, it tumbled to the lawn, where it flapped about, apparently unhurt.

Dusting off her paws, little Sister Snowdrop called down to the fallen gannet, “There! Let that be a lesson, you great plumed bully!”

Abbess Lycian put a paw to her brow and sat down with her back against the wall, exclaiming, “Whooh! Dearie me, I’m all atremble!”

Gallantly, Skipper helped her up. “You did fine, marm, just fine. An’ you, too, Girry!”

Sister Snowdrop nudged him indignantly. “Excuse me, but did I take no part in all this?”

Skipper laughed as he threw an affectionate paw around the old mouse’s shoulders. “Oh, you did better’n all of us, Sister. Yore a rough ole customer, an’ I wouldn’t like t’cross yore path up a dry stream on a dark night, no marm!”

Snowdrop smiled sweetly. “You’re a dreadful flatterer, sir!”

A shout echoed up through the ruined stairwell. It was Brink. “Ahoy, Skip, is everybeast alright up there?”

The otter chieftain called back down to his friend, “Right as rain, matey! We’ll be down as soon as ye throw a rope up to us.”

He turned to the Abbess. “Well, did ye find wot ye were lookin’ for up here, marm?”

Lycian cast a reflective eye over the deserted bedchamber. “Not just yet, Skip, but I have a feeling that we soon will. Sister Snowdrop, do you have a copy of the rhyme?”

The old mouse tapped the side of her head. “No need, Mother Abbess, I can remember every word. It goes like this.

“Twixt supper and breakfast find me,

In a place I was weary to be,

Up in that top tactic (one see)

Lies what was the limb of a tree.

It holds up what blocks out the night,

And can open to let in the light.

For a third of a lifetime one says,

Looking up I could see it sideways.

Tell me what we call coward (in at)

Then when you have worked out that,

You’ll find your heart’s desire,

By adding a backward liar.

Ever together the two have been set,

Since Corriam’s lance ate the coronet.”

Skipper nodded admiringly. “Well done, marm! Wish I had a memory like that. So, ye’ve found this place, the top attic. Next thing to look for is the limb of what once was a tree. What d’ye think that’ll look like?”

Girry gave a prompt reply. “Oh, I’ve already guessed that—it’s Corriam’s lance. It’s probably made of wood, so it must have once been the limb of a tree. Right?”

Skipper agreed. “Right, young ’un, but have ye sorted out the rest o’ the riddle?”

Girry pursed his lips, endeavouring to look wise. “Er, not right now, sir, but I soon will, never fear.”

Sister Snowdrop smiled fondly at her young friend. “No need to, I’ve already done it, Girry. I’ve been repeating that rhyme to myself for so long that some of it’s starting to actually make sense. When I saw the bed, it began to click into place.”

The little Sister smiled smugly until Abbess Lycian spoke to her rather sharply. “Well? Don’t stand there grinning like a ferret at a feast, Sister. Tell us!”

For answer, Snowdrop went to where the bed had stood against the wall. She lay down on the floor, facing the window.

The Abbess sighed impatiently. “What are you doing now, trying to get your habit dustier?”

Snowdrop ignored the comment and began her explanation. “I was wondering what ‘a third of a lifetime’ had to do with our search. Then I remembered. We have three parts to each day—one third is used for work, the second for eating and enjoyment, the third part is set aside for sleep. So, for a third of her lifetime, Sister Geminya would be lying in her bed, which was about here, right? I’m lying on my side, just as she might have. So, what could she see from her sideways position?”

Girry spoke up. “The window and the curtains, I suppose. Though the curtains are nothing but tattered rags now.”

Snowdrop continued, “Yes, but a long time ago they could either block out the night or let in the daylight. Now tell me, what holds the curtains up?”

Skipper shrugged. “Prob’ly a curtain rail.”

Without warning, Girry gave a great leap. He went bounding up the windowframe and tore the curtain rail from the staples which held it. “Geminya used it as a curtain rail. This is the lance of Corriam!”

Skipper scratched his whiskers in bewilderment. “Sink me rudder, it’s been layin’ up there in full view all the time. How did ye guess that was it, young ’un?”

Girry brandished the ancient weapon triumphantly. “I never guessed anything, Skip, I worked it out a moment ago. You know how good I am at anagrams. Well, listen to this: ‘Tell me what we call coward (in at).’ Well, what would you call a coward?”

Skipper pondered a moment before replying. “A lilylivered spineless toad! Beggin’ yore pardons for the language, marms.”