Girry shook his head. “They’re not the names I’m after. How about calling a coward a cur?”
Skipper repeated the name. “Cur, aye, that’s a good ’un.”
Girry continued. “Now look at the last two words of that line: ‘in at.’ Move them about, and they become ‘tain.’ Add the ‘cur,’ and what do you have?”
The otter smiled brightly. “Cur . . . tain . . . curtain!”
Sister Snowdrop looked over her small square glasses. “And ‘you’ll find your heart’s desire, by adding a backward liar.’ ‘Liar’ spelled backward is ‘rail.’ You see?”
Abbess Lycian clapped her paws. “How clever, curtain rail! What splendid creatures my Redwallers are. The lance of Corriam has been up there for ages, pretending to be a curtain rail!”
Skipper took hold of the lance, examining it carefully. “ ’Tis a fine ole weapon, sure enough. Made o’ good hard wood. I’ve never seen timber like this afore. Good balance, too, a real warrior’s lance. Look at the middle, made o’ silver!”
Spitting on the metal, he rubbed dust upon it, then polished it against his tunic until it glittered. “Aye, silver! Didn’t the story say that the lance was smashed, an’ ole Corriam mended it by wedgin’ a silver sleeve over the broken bits? A clever piece o’ work.”
Touching one of the lancetips, the Abbess shuddered. “Beautiful but dangerous, like most weapons. Built for only one purpose—to kill. Things like this frighten me!”
“Ahoy upstairs, here’s yore rope comin’ up!”
Brink had returned again. He threw the rope, but not high enough. It snagged on a ledge lower down. Skipper reached out and looped it over the lancetip. He hauled the rope up and tied it round himself.
“I’ll lower ye down one at a time. You first, Sister.”
Once they were safely back with the main party, molemum Burbee hugged her friend the Abbess. “Oi’m surrpintly glad to see ee back in one piece, moi dearie. May’ aps us’n’s should be takin’ tea an’ cakes down in ee kitchings.”
Lycian kissed Burbee’s velvety old cheek. “A splendid idea, lots of tea and plenty of cakes for everybeast. I certainly think we all deserve it!”
Happy that their mission had proven successful, the Redwallers made their way downstairs, laughing and chattering. They had hardly entered the kitchens when Brother Perant came hurrying up in a state of great agitation.
“Skipper, Brink, come quickly, before that crazy bird kills somebeast. It’s out on the lawn!”
Gripping the lance, the otter chieftain raced out across Great Hall. “Keep those Dibbuns inside. Brink and you others, come with me!”
As they reached the Abbey door, a cacophony of sound could be plainly heard from outside. The harvest mouse Gatekeepers, Oreal and his wife, Hillyah, were frantically trying to distract the gannet away from Irgle and Ralg, their twin babes. The hungry predator loomed over the little ones, determined to eat them. Oreal and Hillyah kept running at the big bird, shouting and waving their paws, which were bleeding from where the maddened bird had pecked them. The babes were wailing piteously, hugging each other tight, trying to hide in a clump of lupins. Having tasted blood, the gannet was shrieking and squawking defiantly, bent on taking its prey. Adding to the din and confusion, Brantalis waddled speedily into the fray. Honking and hissing, the barnacle goose attacked the gannet, beating wildly at it with outspread wings.
Sizing up the situation at a glance, Skipper roared out above the melee, “Everybeast, stay back! Brink, take Girry, Tribsy an’ Brinty with ye! Circle round an’ get the main gate open! We’ve got to herd that bird outside an’ lock it out!”
Wielding the lance of Corriam, Skipper charged the gannet. Brantalis was fighting gamely but was getting the worst of the exchange. He was no match for the ferocious bird’s webbed talons and lightning-swift beak.
Skipper came quickly to his rescue. The courageous otter plunged into the brawl of feathers, flapping wings, beaks and claws. He dealt the gannet a punishing blow to the neck, using the lance like a quarterstaff.
Skipper was calling to Brantalis, “Don’t let that bird get back to the Abbey. Keep it movin’ toward the main gate!”
The Cellarhog and his three helpers had the gates open wide, all shouting words of encouragement as Skipper and the barnacle goose drove the enraged gannet toward it.
“Keep the villain comin’, Skip!”
“Burr, watch ee owt furr he’m beak, zurr!”
“Don’t let the rascal get behind ye, mate!”
“Oh well done, sir! Give him another whack on the tail, he didn’t like that at all!”
The gannet was still looking for a chance to do some damage, though now it was in retreat and almost out of the main gate. In their anxiety to get the bird out, Brantalis and Skipper collided. They went down in a heap.
