Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Bells tinkled on Boorab's ears and cap as he shook his head in admiration of Filorn's understanding nature. "You, marm, are an opal among otters, if you'll allow a chap t'speak poetically. A diamond midst the dreary dross of daily duties, wot!"

Fwirl placed her paw on the windowsill, judging it as accurately as she could. "There, that's about dead center, I'd say."

Mhera approved her decision. "Right, put the nail right on that spot, please, Broggle."

With a stone-headed hammer, Broggle drove a small clout nail into the woodwork, to about half its length. Fwirl explained her plan as she worked. "This is how you make a plumb line. I tie one end of the thin cord to this knife hilt, and now I let it out over the windowsill."

Gundil scrambled up onto the sill. "Ee knoife be's goen' daown an' daown on ee corder, miz."

Fwirl played the cord out slowly. "Tell me when 'tis almost near the ground, Gundil."

The mole watched the knife's steady descent. "Jus' ee likkle bit more, miz . . . Stop! That be furr enuff!"

Fwirl tied the cord around the nail as Cregga called from her chair, "What's going on? Keep me informed, please."

Brother Hoben did the explaining. "Fwirl has made a plumb line. It runs straight and true, right from the center of your window to the ground below."

Cregga levered herself up out of the chair. "Of course! The clue that Song could see through the monocle before the ash tree grew will be somewhere on that line, probably between the cracks or on the wall itself!"

Gundil thought he had found a flaw in the plan. "Oi' bain't a-climberin' oop ee gurt 'igh walls. You'm be needen summ turrible long ladders furr ee job!"

Cregga lifted Gundil down from the windowsill. "Who needs ladders when we've got our Fwirl?"

"But that'n be ee flatted wall, et bain't ee tree," Gundil protested. "Miz Furl be a-fallin' off on she'm skullbones. Hurr!"

Fwirl reassured the doubting mole. "Don't fret, Gundil. I can walk up a wall as easily as you can walk about on the ground, you wait and see."

Gundil scurried to the bed. Burying his head beneath a pillow, he cried out in a muffled voice, "Ho no, luvly mizzy, oi cuddent burr to watch ee. Moi 'ead wudd be assidurably dizzied a-wurryin' abowt ee. Burr, lackeeday!"

Redwallers gathered on the grass below, necks craned upward, while those in the bedchamber leaned over the windowsill to stare downward. All eyes were on the squirrelmaid, searching the wall, spreadeagling herself parallel with the plumb line as she moved back and forth. Broggle was practically bursting with pride and admiration.

"Now that's what I call a champion climber. Skillful, magnificent!"

Fwirl stopped moving, concentrating on one particular block of wallstone. She studied it for a moment, her bushy tail twirling with excitement, then she shot upward like an arrow, straight back through the window and onto Cregga's lap.

"I've found it! Writing carved into the stone, but I can't read or write words down. What should I do?"

Mhera and Brother Hoben came up with a simple scheme right away, and shortly thereafter Fwirl scampered back down and found the sandstone block with the carving on it. She spread a clean white table napkin, its four corners smeared with honey, over the writing. Then, taking a stub of beeswax candle, the squirrelmaid colored in the white linen all over and made a perfect rubbing of the characters beneath the cloth. A cheer went up from the onlookers as she pulled it from the wall and waved it like a banner, crying shrilly, "I did it! I've got it!"

Cregga's room became jammed to the door again. Everybeast listened in breathless silence as Brother Hoben read out the message carved into the wall of the Abbey long seasons ago.

" Twas I slew the Scourge in days of old,

Then I was one, but now we are two.

We who are dumb, yet sound so bold,

Day and night to order you.

We are those who announce a feast,

Or victories of the brave-hearted.

We are those whose solemn farewell,

Mark sadly a loved one departed.

On our oak see knowledge unfold,

We never speak 'til we're told?

We never speak 'til we're told?"

In the brief silence that followed, Fwirl shook her head. "What a puzzle. Great seasons, what's it supposed to mean?"

Her comment was greeted by roars of laughter. Broggle bristled. "Don't laugh at her, it's not fair!"

Mhera pounded the small tabletop until she restored silence. "Broggle's right, you shouldn't laugh at Fwirl. She's only just come to our Abbey. How is she supposed to know about Redwall?"

Everybeast began explaining at once, until Cregga roared, "Silence, please! Floburt, would you like to explain it all to Fwirl? I don't want to hear a murmur from anybeast except Floburt, thank you!"

The hogmaid recited what every Redwaller had learned at Abbey school.

"The poem means our two Abbey bells. They're called Matthias and Methuselah. A long time ago Redwall had only one great bell, called the Joseph Bell, after its maker. Our Abbey was captured by an evil rat, Cluny the Scourge, but a mouse named Matthias fought him. Matthias took the great sword of Martin the Warrior and cut the ropes holding the Joseph Bell. It fell on Cluny and killed him, but the bell was split by its fall. Later, the metal was melted down and recast into two smaller bells, Matthias and Methuselah, the pair we have in our bell tower today. If you know this the answer becomes clear. Bells cannot speak, yet they make sounds, ringing out at midnight, midday and eventide. They ring for feasts, triumphs and also for a death. The line that's repeated at the poem's end is a clever play on words. We never speak 'til we're told. Think about it. A bell will make no sound until you toll it, so they never speak 'til they're tolled!

Old Hoarg the Gatekeeper sat down on the bed. "Hah! I didn't see that 'un 'til you explained it, Floburt. Very clever indeed. But wot about the line speakin' of knowledge unfoldin' on our oak? Where do we find our oak?"

Mhera whispered something to her mother. Filorn nodded understandingly, then she made an announcement. "You'll learn the answer right after the entertainment contest!"

Everybeast appeared bemused at this.

"What entertainment contest?"

"Hurr, furst oi yurr'd abowt et."

" 'Tis a new one on me too."

"I didn't know about any entertainment contest, did you?"

Mhera restored order. "It's to be held by the gatehouse very shortly. Give your names to Gatekeeper Hoarg if you wish to enter. Any kind of entertainment will be considered. My mum will present the winner with a large woodland fruit trifle, topped with meadowcream. Line up outside the gatehouse if you'd like to put your name down!"

Seconds later, Broggle gazed around the deserted bedchamber. "Well, Mhera, that certainly cleared the place. They went out of here like ants chasing honey. Still, who wouldn't for one of your mum's woodland trifles with meadowcream? Whose idea was that?"

Mhera giggled like a Dibbun. "It was mine. The entertainment contest, too. We don't need that lot following us around all day. Come on, let's go and take a look in the bell tower. That appears to be the place where this riddle is centered."

Cregga shook her great striped head as she rose from her chair. "You're a crafty otter, Mhera. That was cleverly done. Now, I'm too old for climbing bell tower stairs, there's too many of 'em for my liking. But you could drop me off by the gatehouse. I want to hear about this entertainment contest. Who knows, I might put my name down. I'd dearly love one of your mum's trifles all to myself."

The search party assisted the Badgermum down the stairs, joking.

"What'll you do, Cregga? Sing the song of the ancient badger?"

"Ee cudd resoite summ gurt dramatuck vursus, marm!"