Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Botarus went into an ungainly run, but once he took to the air there was nothing awkward about his graceful flight. He soared and wheeled to gain height, then flew off with a long cry. "Krrrrrrooooooooommmmmmm!"

Chapter 14

It was baking hot out on the flat scrublands. Dry heather, furze and teasel dotted the landscape, grasshoppers everywhere kept up a dry chirruping, butterflies in swarms visited every scrap of flowering vegetation. Bees hummed busily as they bumbled around the blossoming heathers. Tagg strode out energetically, tasting the light lemonish tang of some dandelion buds he was sucking, his eyes on the cool white of the snowcapped mountain, shimmering in the distance. The place belied the name flatlands. Hollows, hummocks and rises, combined with dry watercourse beds, made it extremely lumpy going. At midnoon he found sheltering shadow in the lee of an oddly shaped hillock. Conserving his meager rations, Tagg ate sorrel, wild onions and some cornsalad leaves. He drank sparingly from his remaining flask of pear cordial and dozed off with the background noises of the heathlands lulling him into slumber.

It was not shouts or screams that wakened him, but a series of smothered grunts, mingled with hissing noises. He listened until he located the sounds, which came from the other side of the hillock where he was resting. Tagg drew his blade and went to investigate.

He had seen smooth snakes before, but this one was a particularly large specimen, light grey in color, with a narrow head and a dark stripe across both eyes. The snake had a harvest mouse in its coils and was trying to crush it to death by constricting its slim smooth-scaled body. However, the mouse was a game little fellow, and he kept struggling loose and inflicting some sharp bites upon the predator's flanks. Never once did he shout or cry out for help. Tagg admired his courage and jumped smartly in to help. Stamping down, he pinned the snake's head to the sandy ground and grabbed its tail firmly, straightening it out. Once the reptile had nowhere to anchor itself for purchase it was virtually helpless. Tagg winked at the harvest mouse.

"Best get out o' the way, friend. This villain's not going to be very pleased when I let him go!"

The harvest mouse straightened his little yellow tunic and bared his teeth. He performed a dance of rage. "Then pass me that dagger o' yourn, mate, an' I'll chop that stringy mouse mangier into bite-sized bits, the scaly-nosed scumtail, the fish-eyed field forager, the legless land lizard! Just gimme the blade, an' I'll show that 'un how t'make a new tunic out of snakeskin!"

Tagg was taken aback at the mouse's ferocity. He flicked him aside with his rudder. "I said stay clear. I'll deal with this."

The mouse was practically doing somersaults in his anger. "Well, gerron with it an' quit jawin', will ye? You came along just when I had that snake well an' truly whipped. Don't stand there like a weasel on a washin' line. Kill it!"

Tagg twirled his knife so he was holding the blade, and dealt the smooth snake two sharp blows on its head. It went limp.

"There, that's put him to sleep for a while, though he'll have a rare old headache when he wakes. Come on, let's get going."

The mouse stamped his footpaw and ground his teeth. “ 'Y'mean you ain't going to slay the blaggard? Are ye soft in the head or wot? Fine big lump of an otter like you an' you can't even kill a rotten reptile! Wot's wrong with ye, eh?

Tagg swung the mouse up onto his shoulders and strode off. "Bloodthirsty little scoundrel, aren't you? No reason to kill the snake; you got away all right. By the way, my name's Tagg."

A tiny paw appeared for him to shake. "Please t'meetcher. I'm Nimbalo the Slayer. Next time y'see me finishin' off a snake, just leave us alone, will ye?"

Tagg tried his best to stop laughing. "How did y'come to be out here alone, Nimbalo?"

"Got taken by an eagle," the harvest mouse replied airily. "Caught me asleep, y'know. Anyhow, he was flyin' me off t'the mountain, so I broke his claws an' dropped off down here. I fell into some soft sand, an' that's where that overgrown worm found me. Huh! Lucky for it I was a bit dazed!"

Tagg now had his laughter under control, and merely nodded. "It certainly was, Nimbalo, but where did you come from? I mean, your tribe, your family, where do they live?"

Nimbalo gave the otter's ear a tug. "Bit nosy, ain't you? Where do I come from? Oh, 'ere an' there, y'know. I've been 'round the rocks a few times, matey. As for families an' tribes, huh, who needs them? They ain't nothin' but a load o' bother. Nimbalo the Slayer travels alone!"

Tagg raised his eyebrows as the mouse shifted position. "Except when you're traveling with me, eh?"

Nimbalo leaned over Tagg's head and stared down into his eyes. "Don't contradict me, riverdog. It don't pay to cross Nimbalo. Any'ow, what're you doin' 'round this neck o' the land? Let's 'ear you doin' a bit of talkin' fer a change."

The otter told Nimbalo the story he had made up for Botarus and the squirrel, about being captured by vermin and trying to escape being one of their tribe. The harvest mouse chuckled.

"Yore right there, Tagg. Steer clear o' tribes an' families, they'll only bring ye grief. So, why are ye goin' to the mountain?"

Tagg stared longingly at the snowy peak ahead. "It's hard to say, really. It looks so cool and clean, sort of free and away from it all. I think the mountain might be a good place to live, though I've never been there. Have you?"

Nimbalo spread his paws expansively. "Mountains, I've been 'round 'em, down 'em, up 'em an' about 'em. I've crossed more mountains than you've ate dinners, me ole mate!"

Tagg halted. He took the harvest mouse down from his shoulders and faced him. "You've certainly led a long and adventurous life, my friend. Tell me, how many seasons old are you?"

Nimbalo started to count upon his whiskers, then dismissed it. "A lot older'n you, pal, by a good stretch. Ho yerss, us 'arvest mice could fool anybeast. We're usually about ten times older than ye'd think!"

The otter put his next question flatly. "Why do you tell so many lies, Nimbalo? Don't you ever tell the truth?"

Nimbalo punched Tagg's paw lightly and grinned. "Truth? What's the truth, eh? Just a pack o' lies made up by otherbeasts so you'll believe 'em. Of course I always tell lies. What's wrong wid that, Tagg? They don't 'urt you, do they?"

Tagg stood bemused, stuck for an answer. His companion swaggered jauntily onward, in his odd hopskip manner.

"Come on, me ole riverdog. Life's too short t'worry about things like that. I'll go to the mountain with ye. Hah, suppose I'll 'ave to. Big honest streamwalloper like you, ye need a smart 'un like me to look after ye. Well, are you comin'?"

Over the remainder of the day, Tagg grew quite fond of Nimbalo, who was an excellent traveling partner and never at a loss for words. At one point he had Tagg cut him the thick stem from a gentian flower. Nimbalo gnawed holes in it, hollowed it out and made a whistle. As they trekked along a dry streambed he kept Tagg amused by tootling tunes on it and singing comic ditties in between.

"I'm the fiercest mouse livin' in all the wide land,

Me fur is so fine an' me muscles are grand,

If I ever meet with some ole vermin band,

I give all the rogues a good towsin'!

For although I'm real savage, me temper I'll bide,

But beware of me dander, ye'd best step aside,

Or you'll find out why so many blaggards've died,

Givin' lip to Nimbalo the Slayer!

When I meet a bad crew all the warriors do hide,

'Cos me fame goes afore me both far an' both wide,

But to mothers an' young 'uns I bow with great pride,

That's the way o' Nimbalo the Slayer!

So take care when you see this mouse passin' by,