Windred watched her grandson dash down to the sea, where he stood throwing pebbles into the waves. "I'm sorry, Luke, I should have kept my silly mouth shut."
Luke rested a paw gently on her shoulder. "Don't be sorry, Windred, I'd have had to tell him sooner or later. Martin's made of tough stuff. He'll grow to be a fine warrior, though the only way he'll learn is to be told the plain truth. 'Twould be no good telling him lies."
That night, a feast to mark the completion of the vessel Sayna was held in Luke's cave. Autumn's harvest had been good and the cooks had excelled themselves. Martin cheered up as he and Timballisto joined a young hog-maid called Twindle and Drunn's nephew Burdle. The four sat together, giggling and joking beneath a lantern at the rear of the cave, ruddy firelight twinkling in their eyes. They had never seen such a sumptuous spread. "Yurr, lookit ee gurt plum pudden!"
"Oh, an' see those likkle tarts, they've got cream on top that looks like a twirl. Bet my mum Welff made those!"
"Mmm! Have you tasted the soup yet? 'Tis full o' rockshrimps an' veggibles!"
"I want a slice o' that big cake, the one with honey an' redcurrants all over the top!"
They sipped Drunn's fizzy apple cider and munched hot wheat scones that contained chunks of candied pear. The elders drank special barley beer and cut off slices of celery and onion cheese to go with it. Old Twoola raised his beaker and broke out into song.
"Oh the weather's cold outside outside,
But we're all snug in here,
With thee an' me, good company,
An' lots o' barley beer!
Oh the snow comes down outside outside,
An' winter winds do moan,
But sit us by a roarin' fire,
An' you'll not hear one groan!
Oh the night is dark outside outside,
But the soup is good an' hot,
Good food, fine friends an' happy hearts,
I'd say we've got the lot!"
Amid the laughter and applause that followed, old Twoola poured himself another beaker, crying out, "That's the stuff. 'Tis a feast an' we be here to enjoy ourselves. Who's got a song?"
Drunn began using a gourd as a drum, beating out a rhythm on it with two wooden spoons. "Goo urr, missus Welff, show 'urn 'ow ee can sing!"
Goodwife Welff was immediately up, apron swirling as she danced a jig, clapping her paws and singing.
"Two plums grew on a pear tree,
A wise old owl did say,
Oh dearie me I'm certain,
They shouldn't grow that way.
For beechnuts come from beech trees,
While Mother Nature rules,
As long as acorns come from oaks,
No wisdom comes from fools!
Then came a little hedgehog,
Who said with simple smile,
Good day to you, wise creature,
Now list' to me awhile.
Why does a tree stay silent,
And yet it has a bark,
An' why do shadows fall at night,
But never leave a mark?
Though you may think me silly,
I know 'tis only fair,
Most any fool can tell you,
That two plums make a pair!"
The mice had never heard this quaint ditty before, and they chuckled at the logic of the little hedgehog.
Dulam poured Welff a beaker of cider, offering her his seat, so that she could catch her breath. "Good song, marm, that was very clever."
The hogwife winked at him. "If'n you think that's clever, then ponder on this. How many pears in a dozen pair, six or twelve?" She watched the bemused mouse trying to work it out.
"Er, six, I think, aye 'tis six."
Goody Welff chuckled. "Then I wouldn't send you to the orchard for my pears."
Dulam scratched his head and did some more figuring. "No, twelve, the answer's twelve!"
"Twelve pair o' pears, are you sure?"
"Er, er, aye! I'm sure, marm!"
Goody Welff drained her beaker, eyes twinkling. "But that's twenty-four, twelve pairs o' pears."
Dulam scratched his head furiously. "You've got me all mixed up, marm!"
Drunn patted the puzzled mouse's back heartily. "Ee try wurkin' et out in apples, zurr!"
Late into the night they carried on feasting, singing and setting riddles. The fire was burning low when Windred moved the cave barricade a little and peered outside. She shuddered and hurried back to the fire. "Brr, snow's beginnin' to fall out there!"
Luke took his cloak and spread it over Martin and Burdle, who had drowsed off together in the corner. Windred waited until Luke returned to the fire, then asked, "Couldn't it bide until the spring?"
Luke stared into the red embers. "No. I have stayed too long already. Snow or not, I'm bound to sail in the morning."
Windred sat silent awhile, listening to the snow-laden winds sweeping the shore outside. Suddenly she leaned forward and gripped Luke's paw fiercely. "Go then, and seek out Vilu Daskar. Slay him and destroy his blood-colored ship. Steal the life from him who robbed us of our Sayna. I'll take care of Martin and when he's grown enough, he'll care for me. But swear to me that one day you'll return here to the creatures who love you, Luke the Warrior!"
Holding his swordblade over the fire, Luke watched the embers reflecting red against it. "I swear that when I'm done the seascum will murder no more innocent creatures. On my oath I will return here when my work is done!"
Chapter 21
It was a bitter winter noon when the ship Sayna, crewed by Luke and a score of his fighting mice, slid down its shale runway on the ice the season had provided. With one fluke buried in the sand, the anchor held the ship against an ebbing tide. Even though her sails were furled, the Sayna strained against the anchor rope, as if eager to be gone. All the farewells had been made, and the crew had sent their friends and families back into the caves, not wishing them to stand out tearful and freezing to wave the ship off. Luke was last to leave. Martin sat stone-faced outside the cave. Luke could not reason with him.
"Son, son, you would not last two moons out there on the high seas. I cannot risk your life pitting you in battle against the seascum I am sworn to do war with. Listen to me, I know what is best for you!"
But Martin would not listen. "I want to sail on the ship and be a warrior like you!"
Luke spread his paws wide and sighed with frustration. "What am I going to do with you, Martin? You have my warrior spirit and your mother's determination. Listen, son, take my sword."
It was a fighting sword and well used. Luke pressed it into his son's paws. The young mouse gazed wide-eyed at the battle-scarred blade and gripped the handle tight as if he would never let go.
Luke smiled, recalling the time when his father had passed the sword on to him. Tapping a paw against the crosshilt, he said, "I can see it is in you to be a fighter, Martin. The first thing warriors must learn is discipline."
Martin felt as though the sword were speaking for him. "Tell me what to do and I will obey."
Relief surged through Luke, as he commanded the would-be warrior. "You will stay and help defend our cave against all comers, protect those weaker than yourself and honor our code. Always use the sword to stand for good and right, never do a thing you would be ashamed of, and never let your heart rule your mind." He tapped the blade once more as its pitted edge glinted in the winter morning. "And never let another creature take this sword from you, not as long as you live. When the time comes, pass it on to another, maybe your own son. You will know instinctively if he is a warrior. If not, hide the sword where only a true warrior who is brave of heart would dare to go and find it. Swear this to me, Martin."
"I swear it on my life!"
The young mouse's gray eyes reflected the wintry sea as he spoke. Luke saw that the tide would soon be turning.
"It might be some seasons before I return, but I'll be back, son. Meanwhile, Timballisto is a promising and sensible creature, with more seasons under his belt than you, and I have left him in charge of our tribe. Obey him."