Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

He grabbed the nearest Brownrat and slapped his face several times with the cooked trout. "I likes eggs, d'yer know why?"

The unfortunate Brownrat tried to duck another slap from the trout. "'Cos eggs tastes better, Boss?"

Tossing the fish at Laggle, Gruntan wiped his paws on the Brownrat's head before kicking him away. "No, stupid, it's 'cos eggs ain't got bones'n'skin, an' slimy bits, too. Leastways, not when they're boiled proper, an' peeled well."

He turned his attention on Stringle, and the rest, who were lolling about, still huffing and puffing. "So youse lot are back, eh? Hah, the way ye came bowlin' down that ditch, it sounded like you was bein' chased. So tell me, 'ow many was after ye, ten score, twenny score, or was it just a bad-tempered wasp? Stan' up, Stringle, an' let's 'ear the sorry tale!"

Stringle stood, well clear of Gruntan Kurdly, and did his best to put a brave face on things. "We chased those

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seabeasts, Chief, jus' like ye told us to. When they saw us after 'em, they took off like scalded frogs, ain't that right, mates?"

There was a murmur of agreement, then Stringle carried on with his report. "Aye, they ran sure enough, but we charged after the gutless scum. Chased 'em right into their camp we did an' slayed 'em, left, right'n'centre!"

Gruntan raised his eyebrows. "All of 'em?"

Stringle tried hard to look injured and gallant at the same time. "Well, not exac'ly all of 'em, Chief, one or two of the cowards ran off, but we took care o' the main gang. Ye won't be bothered by that lot no more!"

Gruntan took a while to digest this information. "Hmm, an' wot 'appened to their chief, this fox, Fizzy Longteeth? Where'd he go?"

Stringle blurted out, "We catchered 'im!"

Gruntan picked a trout bone from his snaggled teeth. "Ye catchered 'im. Good! Well, where is he?"

Stringle hesitated, moving further away from Gruntan, or any missile he might choose to throw. "Well, that's wot I was goin' t'tell ye, Boss, it was like this, ye see. We 'ad 'im, all trussed up, comin' back 'ere along the ditch we was. When all of a sudden, there's this giant madbeast, wirra great big fork!"

Gruntan belched, then spat out another fishbone. "Wot sort o' giant madbeast?"

Stringle backed away even further. "One o' those stripe'ounds, but big as a tree, wid red eyes. Stabbin' away at us with 'is big fork an' shoutin'!"

Gruntan halted his captain's flow again. "Wot was 'e shoutin'?"

Stringle replied promptly, "Yooleeyayleeyer!"

The Brownrat chieftain jiggled a grimy claw in one ear, staring-hard at Stringle. "Yoolerwot? Say that agin."

Throwing back his head, and cupping both paws around his mouth for maximum effect, Stringle bellowed, " Yoooooleeeeyayleeeyaaaaaar!"

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Gruntan winced at the volume of the piercing sound. "Wot's it supposed t'mean?"

One of Stringle's command ventured a reply. "Some kinda war cry, prob'ly."

Gruntan stared directly at the speaker. "War cry eh, an' wot size d'ye say this stripe'ound was?"

The Brownrat soldier, who wished he had never spoken, echoed Stringle's original words. "'E was a giant, Boss, wirra great, big fork!"

Gruntan addressed his next remark to all the vermin. "Bigger'n me, was 'e?" It was common knowledge that the Brownrat leader could not stand the thought of anybeast being bigger than him. He was exceedingly vain about his size.

The horde hesitated, but Stringle shook his head. "Nah, nobeast's bigger'n the great Gruntan Kurdly!"

Swelling out his enormous stomach proudly, Gruntan pronounced, "Hah, then that must make me a giant. That don't make yore stripe'ound sound so big, do it?"

Stringle shook his head miserably, knowing he had fallen into the trap. "No, Boss, 'e ain't so big."

"Shame on youse all fer runnin' away from 'im then. Take 'em back out agin, Stringle, find the stripe'ound, bring me back 'is big fork, an' 'is skull, or 'is skin'n'bones, I don't care which, as long as ye slays the beast. Huh, Gruntan Kurdly ain't havin' giant stripe'ounds runnin' round 'is territory!"

Disobedience was out of the question. Stringle marched out at the head of his dispirited troop, back to the ditchbed.

Having dismissed them, Gruntan turned his attention to what he viewed as more important matters. "Now, about those eggs I mentioned, Laggle, where are they? Stir yore stumps, ye ole bat!"

The more Abbot Daucus saw of the Tabura, the more he was glad that the old badger had professed a wish to stay at Redwall as a healer and dispenser of wisdom. Even the

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Abbey Dibbuns had fallen under the spell of the charismatic Tabura. At the moment, he was seated by the pond, surrounded by young ones, and quite a few elders. Daucus joined them, listening intently as the wise badger held forth on the merits of simplicity. He took a russet apple, snapping it into two halves with a twist of his powerful paws. The Tabura sniffed the peach-hued flesh of the russet and sighed. "Ah, the scent of quiet autumn afternoon!" Dibbuns crowded around to smell the apple, as the Tabura continued. "And the taste, my friends, it is different to all other apples, try it." He smiled as the Abbeybabes lined up to take a nibble, each one pronouncing an opinion.

"Umyum, tasters very nice an' sweet!"

"Bo urr, oi do loikes a gudd h'apple, zurr!"

The Tabura passed them the other half. "There are many ways that your Friar and his cooks can use a russet apple, in sauces, pies, crumbles, fruit salads, or baked in honey and spices. Each of these ways produces a delicious new taste for us. But, if you are really hungry, there's only one way to really enjoy a good russet apple."

Dawbil the molebabe wrinkled her little snout. "Ho aye, an' wot way bee's that, gurt zurr?"

The Tabura allowed Dawbil to scramble onto his lap as he explained. "Just pick the apple from the tree, take a crust of newbaked bread and a wedge of ripe cheese, then eat them all, a bite from each at a time. Apple, crusty bread and cheese."

Abbot Daucus nodded. "Right, Tabura, I've done it myself, many a time. There's no taste quite like it!"

The old badger looked around at his audience. "Father Abbot is right, life's greatest pleasures are the simple ones. A drink of cold, clear streamwater when you're hot and thirsty, or apple, cheese and bread when you feel the need of plain, homely food."

Granspike Niblo stood up, straightening her apron. "By golly, sir, you've made me feel quite 'ungry, a-talkin' like that. Those russets in the orchard ain't ready yet, but Friar

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Chondrus has a big barrel of 'em, from last autumn, in his kitchen. I'm sure he could spare us some bread an' cheese. Would you little 'uns like t'come with me?"

There was an immediate clamour from the Dibbuns. As they set off in Granspike's wake for the kitchens, a Guosim sentry came running from the west wall. Osbil had been part of the Tabura's audience, the sentry hurried to his side, muttering urgently, "Come t'the walltop, Chief, we've just spotted vermin!"

Keeping low along with the other wallguards, the Guosim chieftain peered between the battlements following the sentry's directions.

"See there, just to the north, crossin' the path from the ditch, 'tis the Brownrats!"

Osbil watched. Stringle, Kurdly's second in command, was herding scores of Brownrats across the path and into the cover of Mossflower Woods.

The sentry shrew whispered, "Wot d'ye suppose those scum-faced murderers are up to?"

Osbil's teeth ground together audibly. "I don't care wot they're up to, we're goin' to be on them like wasps on honey, mate. Now's our chance. Rigril, Teagle, gather our Guosim. I want 'em armed t'the teeth and silent as pike in a midnight stream. Move lively now, we don't want to lose those villains!"

On hearing what had taken place, the Tabura, the Abbot and Skipper made their way to the north wallgate. The Guosim chieftain was marshalling the few late arrivals before setting forth.