Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Cregga's huge paw lifted the hare right out of his seat. "Away with you and leave my friend Mhera alone."

As he rose in the air, Boorab took Mhera's plate of lunch with him. "Er, right you are, mighty marm. I say, you don't mind me taking this with me, wot. Save it bein' wasted. Can't abide waste, y'know."

Mhera relieved him of the plate and returned it to the table. "You can have it if you apologize to Sister Alkanet about the rude and unkind remarks you made about her!"

The Badgermum stroked Mhera's cheek softly. "He's right, you know. Sitting there scowling won't solve much."

Mhera pushed the plate of food away. "I'm sorry, Cregga, it's just that I haven't the time to fool about. I'm just so angry with myself that I can't solve the mystery of the green cloth with the writing on. I need to get away on my own, so I can think clearly. It's noisy in here."

Lifting her head, the badger checked the chattering, the clatter of plates and the scraping of chairs with her keen senses.

"Hmm, it is rather boisterous, but then summer lunchtimes are usually like this. You've never noticed because a certain ottermaid named Mhera is normally part of it all. Would you like to go up to my room for a bit?"

"I'd love to. Thanks, Cregga!"

The Badgermum put her head on one side as if pondering something. "Wait. Maybe it'd be better if you went up and took a rest in the infirmary sickbay. It's nice and quiet in there, you know."

Mhera could not help pulling a wry face at this suggestion. "I don't feel ill. Why should I go to the sickbay?"

Cregga shrugged. "No urgent reason really, but I was just thinking. Abbess Song loved to take a nap up there when it was empty. She liked the room, said it was both cool and clean."

Mhera rose from the table. "Clean and cool. Good. I'll give it a try."

Boorab came to the table when Mhera had left. He reached for the leftover luncheon, but Cregga's paw closed over his. "Well, sah, did you apologize graciously to Sister Alkanet?"

"Yith, marb, I dibb!"

Cregga frowned. "What are you talking like that for?"

"I 'pologithed add webt to kitth hurr paw."

Cregga translated. "You apologized and went to kiss her paw, is that what you're trying to say? What happened?"

"The Thithter thmacked bee inna node wib a pudden thpoon!"

Cregga nodded approvingly. "Sister Alkanet smacked you in the nose with a pudding spoon. Well, good for her! Does it hurt?"

"Yith. It thmarth!"

"Oh, I see. And do you look unhappy?"

"Udhabby? Ob courth I lukk udhabby!"

Cregga allowed him to take the plate. "Well, there you are, Boorab, but don't forget to smile, or you'll stick like that, remember!"

Boorab wandered off, muttering darkly, "Thmile? Huh, she bight thigg I'b laffig add gibb be anudder thock wib 'er pudden thpoon!"

It was indeed quiet, peaceful and clean in the little sickbay. Mhera lay down on a truckle bed and gazed around. The room had a wonderful old aroma of verbena. A warm circle of sunlight, coming through the small circular

window, shone on the far wall like a pink sun in a sandstone sky, the sandy streaks in the stone appearing to her mind as faint cloud layers. She recalled a couple of spring days she had spent in the sickbay, one season when she was very young. Sister Alkanet had treated her for a sprained footpaw. The Sister had not been stern with her, but kindly and considerate. Maybe she was different when not on duty. There was a scroll, opened out and fixed to the back of the door, with a poem written on it in beautiful copperplate script. The edges were wreathed in artistically painted fruits and flowers. Mhera read the poem to herself as she lay there, feeling calm and rested.

White campion rooted from its bed,

Will cure the pains of aching head,

For one who can't sleep easily,

Then use valerian . . . sparingly.

If ague and fever hang about,

Wild angelica hounds them out.

For wounds of sword and spear or arrow,

The plant to heal them all is yarrow,

Placed o'er the scars where cuts have been,

Dock and sanicle keep all clean.

Use waterparsnip and whitlow grass,

On warts and swellings, they'll soon pass.

And when the snuffles and sniffs are seen,

Just drive them out with wintergreen,

And oft the wise ones do report,

Keep them at bay with pepperwort,

Whilst maidens full of health and cheer,

Dab sweet woodruff behind each ear!

Mhera smiled, recalling the time when she and Floburt were fascinated with the aroma of sweet woodruff. They had persuaded Friar Bobb to make them a flask of the wonderful vanilla-perfumed scent. However, both maids used it so liberally on ears, throat and paws that it became overpowering. Redwallers complained at dinner and Cregga Badgermum ordered them both to eat outside in the orchard. Of course, she had been a lot younger then, and Floburt nought but a Dibbun. Slumber overcame the ottermaid as she lay there reminiscing. With her dreams bygone events came back to sadden her: the sight of her mother weeping over an empty cradle, the chubby, fuzzy babe with a flowermark on his paw. Her brother. Had he lived, Deyna would be a big strong otter of almost sixteen seasons now. Her father, lifting her up and kissing her before he left with the babe, so proud of his little son and his pretty daughter. She missed her father so much.

Mhera awoke weeping. There was somebeast tapping upon the sickbay door. Hastily wiping her eyes on the coverlet, she called out, "Please come in!"

Fwirl and Broggle peeped around the door.

"Cregga told us we'd find you here." Fwirl ran straight to Mhera and put a paw about her. "Oh, dear, you've been crying. Are you all right?"

The ottermaid sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the worn green coverlet from the bed. "It was just a dream. Silly of me really, I'll be all right in a moment. A creature of my seasons, weeping like a Dib"

Suddenly, Mhera buried her nose completely in the coverlet, her whole body stiffening.

Broggle tugged the coverlet gently. "What is it, Mhera? What's the matter?"

She thrust the coverlet at her friends. "Smell! It's lilacs!"

As they put their noses to it, Mhera felt the cloth's texture. "It's very old, and homespun. It's green, too, faded green, just like the scrap of cloth from the bell tower beam!"

There followed a shuffling sound, coupled with paws tapping against the wall. Cregga entered the sickbay.

Fwirl could not contain herself. Words rushed from her mouth. "Oh, Cregga, oh, mum, look what Mhera's found. Sorry, you can't look, can you? Feel this, smell it, what does it remind you of?"

Sitting down on the bed, Cregga did as she was bid. "Hmm, now don't tell me. It's a coverlet, the sort Sister Alkanet uses to keep the sheets from getting dusty. Am I right?"

Mhera's voice rose almost to a squeak. "It smells of lilacs and it's old green homespun!"

Cregga lay back against the pillows and sighed. "Think I ate too much lunch. Oh, is there writing on it anywhere?"

Mhera found it immediately, below the hem she was holding. A single word, which she read out slowly. "PITTAGALL. All in capital letters again, running downward." She pursed her lips, seething with frustration. "First we had HITTAGALL, now we've got PITTAGALL. Well, that's a great help, I don't think!"

Cregga nestled her head comfortably into the pillows. "What were you expecting to find?"

The ottermaid gestured helplessly. "Something . . . I don't know. Maybe an object that'll tell us who the next Abbess or Abbot of Redwall is to be. Something solid and positive I could recognize plainly, not all this HITTAGALL and PITTAGALL nonsense!"

Cregga heaved herself from the bed. "Well, I'm not going to get a very good nap here. I think I'll go to my room and rest in my chair." She waved them away as she felt her way out of the sickbay. "No need to help me, 1 can make it on my own quite easily. I'll leave you young 'uns here to solve your puzzles. Don't get too angry with yourself, Mhera my dear. You'll come to a solution if you give it a little thought and time. Patience, my friend, patience."