Skipper and Rollo hobbled up to the gate in front of Ninian's. Log a Log and several other shrews were binding Gerul with strips from their tunics and ditch mud mixed with herbs to staunch his dreadful injuries. Skipper hastened to his friend's side. He stared down at the owl's homely face. "Is he alive?"
Log a Log shrugged, totally at a loss. "Aye, mate, there's still life in this owl, though why that should be I don't know the bird's taken enough to kill any three of us! I counted four jackdaws in there that he'd slain. I've seen some tough 'uns in my seasons, but none like yore mate Gerul!"
A heart-rending cry, like that of a dying beast, escaped Rollo's lips. Rangapaw strode slowly out of Ninian's carrying a forlorn little bundle in her hefty paws. Log a Log held Rollo back as he tried to intercept the big otter. The old Recorder's body was racked by sobs.
"No! No! Not Piknim, my little friend! Say she lives. Please!"
Tears rolled openly down the sturdy face of Rangapaw. She clasped the limp form to her as if nursing a babe. "Pore young maid, she'll always live in the memories of 'er mates."
As Rangapaw walked off toward Redwall with her sad burden, Rollo tore free of Log a Log's grasp. Straightening himself up, he wiped his eyes upon his habit sleeves and turned to the other Chieftain. "Skipper, will you help me to do something?" he said.
The otter grasped Rollo's frail old paw. "Anythin', matey, just ask!"
Rollo pointed to the doorway. "Go in there and find a large pink pearl. It will probably be in the nest of the leader of those birds."
Skipper was not long gone. As he emerged, everyone held their breath. He opened his paw to reveal the fourth pearl nestling in his palm. He handed it to Rollo, who clasped it tightly.
"Now, I want you to put flame to this place and burn it down!"
Skipper's voice registered his incredulity at the proposal. "Burn it down?"
But there was no hesitation in Rollo's determined mood. "Aye, burn it down until it is just a heap of rubble and bad memories. This has become a place of evil. I have read in the Abbey Records that on two occasions the enemies of Redwall used this place as a refuge. The first was Cluny the Scourge in the time of Matthias the Warrior, then there was Slagar the Cruel in the time of Mattimeo, when I was but a Dibbun. Now it has been used a third time as a den of thieves and murderers. Burn it!"
Dawn the next morning was gentle and bright; a silence seemed to lie over Mossflower country, even the birds remaining mute. Goodwife Teasel and the badger Mother Auma stood together on the ramparts of the outer wall facing south. From where the path curved they could see a dark column of smoke rising above the tops of the woodland trees.
Auma nodded toward it. “Skipper and his crew are still down there, seeing that it burns to the ground and the fire doesn't spread. Will you pack some food for them, Teasel? I'll take it down myself."
The hogwife patted her friend's paw. "Aye, I'll pack plenty, knowin' wot good appetites yon otters 'ave. Though at the moment I detests to look at vittles or prepare 'em. Friar 'iggle, bless 'im, he sent me off from the kitchens an' stayed to fix hrekkist fer anybeast as wants some, but none came."
The hogwife threw her flowery apron up over her face and wept. "The pore liddle maid, to end up like that, an' she were so young too. I ain't no warrior, marm, but I 'opes those wicked birds got all they deserved off Log a Log an' Skipper's big gel!"
Auma stroked her friend's headspikes soothingly. "There, there, don't take on so, those birds paid dear for their evil ways. Log a Log told me all about it last night: 'twill be many a long season before we hear the call of a jackdaw in our land again, I promise you."
The grief at Piknim's death was so great in Redwall Abbey that Auma had to assume the mantle of Abbess and request that none came to the burying, because it would be far too upsetting for young and old. Accordingly at midday she and Rangapaw laid the young mousemaid to rest themselves. They chose a shady spot in the orchard, to one side beneath a great sweet-chestnut tree, where they held a simple ceremony. Small gifts of remembrance from every Redwaller were placed in the grave. When the task was done, both Abbey bells tolled slowly, their clappers muted with velvet to soften the tone.
Craklyn, Tansy and Rollo stood at an upper window overlooking the orchard, despite the protest of Sister Cicely regarding their condition. The otter Glenner supported Craklyn as she stood at the window and sang. Her sweet voice, which had sounded out in harmony with Piknim's many times before, was now alone. It echoed beautifully off the outer walls until it seemed to fill the entire Abbey and its grounds.
“ Fare you well upon your journey,
To the bright lands far away,
Where beside the peaceful rivers,
You may linger any day.
In the forests warm at noontide,
See the flowers bloom in the glades,
Meet the friends who've gone before you,
To the calm of quiet shades.
There you'll wait, O my beloved,
Never knowing want or care,
And when I have seen my seasons,
We will walk together there."
Glenner and Sister Cicely walked the three friends back to the room they were sharing at the infirmary. There they lay upon their beds, all with their own deep personal thoughts. Teatime passed and still they had not stirred. Tansy lay on top of her counterpane, fully dressed, watching the sunlight lengthening afternoon shadows through the window.
The door creaked open and Friar Higgle Stump crept in bearing a tray laden with slices of nutbread, a hot mushroom and leek pastie in gravy, a bowl of fresh fruit salad and a flagon of his brother Furlo's best dandelion and burdock cordial. He wiggled his nose at them.
"Good afternoon, friends. I couldn't bear the thought of you up 'ere bein' fed warm nettle broth; that shouldn't 'appen to anybeast. So I brought up a little summat to tickle yore appetites."
He placed the tray down, but they did not even look at it. The Friar shook his head sadly. “Dearie me, now if miss Piknim were about she'd 'ave beat you all to it an' gobbled everythin' up."
Craklyn sat up shaking her head. "No, she wouldn't. Piknim would have shared it with us 'cos we're her friends ... I mean, we were her friends."
Rollo sat up also, arching his eyebrows indignantly. "Were? You mean we're not still Piknim's friends?"
Then Tansy sat up, glaring at Rollo. "Craklyn never meant that. We'll always be Piknim's friends, her dearest and best most treasured friends, so there!"
A smile played around Friar Higgle's face. "I knows 'ow you can be such good friends with Piknim that nobeast'd believe it!"
Craklyn and Tansy spoke in unison. "How?"
The Friar perched upon the window sill, his face serious. "Just carry on like yore doin' now an' don't eat no more, you'll soon be reunited with yore friend by starvin' t'death!"
He winked broadly at Rollo, knowing the Recorder would recognize the wisdom in his words. Rollo did. He sat up, filled himself a beaker and chose a thick slice of nutbread, then, eating and drinking, he began to speak.
"I vote we carry on searching for the Tears of all Oceans. Now, you maids keep silent, just eat and listen to me. Eat!"
The old Recorder's voice was sharp and commanding; neither Tansy or Craklyn had ever heard him speak like that. Seating themselves close to the tray, they began eating.
Rollo tossed the fourth pearl in the air and caught it.
"See this thing? Piknim gave her life for it. Between us we vowed to find those six pearls because they may be needed to ransom our Abbot back from the enemy. I don't know about you two, but Rollo bankvole never breaks his word. I intend to find the other two pearls. Tchah! I'll wager Piknim would have had a very low opinion of us had she seen us a moment ago. Moping and moaning with no thought of carrying on the very quest that she died for. Is that the act of friends?"