Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Mhera spoke the answer before she had realized it. "Monocles are for seeing through. Maybe she placed it there so somebeast could climb up there and look through it."

Cregga smote a paw against her forehead. "Of course! It was placed facing north, Fwirl said."

The squirrelmaid allowed Broggle to fill her beaker with cordial. "From the position of the monocle in between the boughs, I'd say anybeast looking through it would be viewing the Abbey building on its south side, if that's any help."

Gundil wiped a serviette across his mouth. "Us'n's ull foind that owt doireckly arfter lunch, hurr aye!"

The second visit to the ash tree involved taking along one of Drogg Cellarhog's stout ropes. Fwirl took it up into the tree, and looping it around a high bough she let the end down, scampering to the ground behind it.

"Have you got the monocle, Mhera? Come on, I'll help you up."

Cregga gave the ottermaid final instructions. "Place the monocle back in its slot and look through it. The instant you see something, shout down and tell me. Up y'go, friend!"

Assisted by the treewhiffler, Mhera climbed into the spreading ash, hauling herself up on the rope whilst allowing Fwirl to find holds for her footpaws. She chanced a glance down. "We're getting rather high up, aren't we?"

Fwirl placed her shoulder under Mhera's footpaw to steady it. "Don't look down, Mhera. Keep going. Nearly there now."

The friends below on the ground stood patiently waiting. After a while they heard sounds.

"Hurr. Et's Miz Mhurra an' she'm larfin' fit t'burst."

Cregga turned her face upward. "Mhera, have you found anything? What are you laughing at?"

Ottermaid and squirrelmaid were both chortling. Mhera called back down to the bemused Badgermum. "Hahahaha! You, haha, you'll never believe it, Cregga. Ahahaha! I'm staring straight into your bedroom window. Hahahaheeheehee!"

Chapter 12

Rain drizzled lightly through the early-morning mist rising from the surface of the broad stream. The two voles Krobzy and Sekkendin emerged from the secret tunnel with Tagg. The otter carried a small sack of supplies and a cloak, which they had presented to him. Krobzy blinked up at the indifferent milky sky.

"Yarr, drizzlin' won't last long; my ingrowed paw claw ain't twingein' enough. 'Twill clear up afore noon an' the sun'll smile on us again. Tagg, I wish ye wouldn't go, mate. Stay 'ere wid us. Ye could make an 'appy 'ome midst our voles."

Tagg clasped the bankvole's chubby paw fondly. "I've never had such a happy time as I spent with your tribe, friend, but I must go. There's bound to be Juska beasts following me, Sawney for one, and I don't know how many others. It would not be the act of a friend to bring trouble upon your creatures. Juska are thieves and killers. Stay out of their way. Keep to your homestead and be watchful for the next few days."

Two more voles emerged from the tunnel, carrying what appeared to be a large basket. Sekkendin showed it to Tagg. "This is a coracle. When yer finished wid it, just cast it out into the stream. 'Twill drift back 'ere by itself."

Tagg tried to hide a smile as he inspected the flimsy craft. "A coracle? Are you sure I'll fit into it?"

Krobzy chuckled. "Ye've still gotta lot tlearn, big feller. A coracle's a good liddle craft, light an' easy on the paws. There's just one paddle, see, wid a blade on each end. Yer paddle's a mast, too, when y'slip it atwixt those two blocks." Two small chunks of sycamore had been tied into the woven rushes of the craft's base. Tagg stood the paddle end up between them.

"Good idea, but where's the sail?"

Sekkendin indicated the cloak Tagg had been given. "That ain't just a cloak, matey. 'Tis a sail, too, an' I'll tell ye somethin' else. Our cloaks are special made, wid beeswax an' secret plant oils soaked into the weave. Yell find rain an' water don't affeck them. They'll keep ye dry anywheres!"

Krobzy tossed the sack of supplies into the small round coracle. "Yarr, those vittles too, they're travelin' rations. Full o' goodness t'keep yore strength up."

They launched the coracle into the water and Tagg got in. Despite his size it floated well, and he pushed off into the current, dabbing left and right with the double-ended paddle.

"This is wonderful! 'Tis so easy to steer, even going upstream against the current. Thanks, friends. My best wishes to you and all your tribe. I'll never forget your kindness. Please don't stand waving on the bank. Go in, and keep your heads low for a while. Keep a weather eye out for Juska vermin. Goodbye, and may your seasons be long and happy!"

The voles scuttled into their secret tunnel, calling back, "Yarr yarr, Tagg, call back an' see us agin. Yore alius welcome!"

Krobzy stayed at the entrance for a time, watching the sturdy otter paddle his coracle off into the drizzly mists. "Good fortune to yer, Taggerung. I 'opes you meets friendly beasts like us along yore way!"

Drizzle was still falling in moist curtains when the hunters woke, damp and uncomfortable, in unfamiliar woodland after a night spent out in the open. Gruven huddled into a dry space beneath a fir tree, irate and hungry. He snarled at the weasel Milkeye. "What's the matter with you, deadlamp? Did y'never learn to light a fire properly? You'll be all day puffin' an' blowin' there!"

Milkeye turned from his flint and tinder, so that his good eye could see the stoat. "Wood's all wet with the rain. Can't make a fire with damp wood."

Gruven turned his bad temper elsewhere. Vallug Bowbeast was gnawing some dried fish from the meager rations they had brought along. Gruven tossed a pinecone at him. It missed.

"Hey, Vallug, are you goin' to sit there stuffin' your face 'til it bursts? Where's my breakfast? I'm clan Chieftain."

"Not yet you ain't," Vallug commented with his mouth half full. "Sawney always said that a leader had to prove 'imself first. We ain't seen you do nothin' yet except complain. I'm not yer mother. Get yer own vittles!"

Gruven sat glaring at the big ferret. Vallug was a killer, a dangerous beast to get the wrong side of. He wished he had picked on somebeast weaker. He tried to save face by growling, "When I catch up with that otter, then I'll prove myself all right!"

Eefera strode into view. He had been up before dawn, searching for tracks. Without reporting to Gruven, he threw himself down and grabbed some dried fish. He addressed himself to Rabbad, a small, sly-looking fox. "Waste o' time tryin' to track in this weather. There's a stream over yonder. Otters favor streams."

Rabbad collected water, dripping from the trees, onto a dock leaf. He poured it into his mouth and swallowed. "Ye reckon we should follow the water course, then? Which way d'ye think the streamdog went?"

Vallug shouldered his bow and quiver of arrows. "Prob'ly north. That's the way he was travelin'."

Gruven decided the time had come to assert his authority. Leaving his shelter, he strode off purposefully, snarling orders. "Right, we're headed north. Break camp, you lot, no time for squattin' 'round eating. Follow me!"

There were definite sounds of gruff laughter from the group. He wheeled around to see Eefera pointing in the opposite direction. There was a hint of contempt in the weasel's voice. "It's this way . . . Chief."

Gruven found himself trailing at the rear. It was too narrow a trail to push past the others and regain the lead.

By midmorning they were well along the riverbank, traveling at a fast lope. Though Gruven was big and well built, he found it difficult to keep pace with the others. They were older than him, but lean and hardy for the most part. He was silently relieved when Vallug stopped them for a short rest on the bankside. Eefera scouted ahead whilst the others sat under the shade of some weeping willows, out of the continuous drizzle. Dagrab nodded northward. "Riverdog'll be makin' for the big mountains."