Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

As Tagg used his blade to slice the plumcake and teabread, the hedgehog told his story.

"Last night I was quietly dozing the sunset away when I was attacked. Can you believe it, set upon in one's own domicile. Three vermin, ruffianly louts they were, came at me whilst I was half asleep. I didn't even get a chance to reach for my club. One villain had a sword, kept jabbing at me, so what else could a body do? I rolled myself up into a ball, as we hogs are apt to do when in danger. But did that stop them? It certainly did not, the fiends! They tied me with my own rope, bound me painfully tight, so I became stuck in the curled-up position. Then without so much as a by-your-leave they rolled me up and down the bank for what seemed like an eternity. Lucky for me I got a hollow reed into my mouth, so I could breathe a little. Well, what more can one say? They played at their wicked game until I became the mudball you encountered today. Then they had the colossal nerve to ransack my dwelling and eat a pot of mushroom soup and a carrot and turnip flan. Just as well that Great-Aunt Lollery had visited a day earlier. She can't stand vermin!"

Tagg felt he had to interrupt. "Who's Great-Aunt Lollery?"

The hedgehog raised his eyebrows as he poured damson cordial. "Silly me, I forgot to mention, she's not my great-aunt really. She was my old nurse in my younger and better seasons. Lives in the woodlands now, won't move out here at any price. She's my cook, you know, and a hog more skilled in the culinary arts I've yet to meet. Dear old Great-Aunt Lollery, what a treasure she is. Goodness me, you don't think Imade all this food, do you? Hah! Couldn't cook to save my life. She was only saying on her latest visit, as she always does, Master Robald, she says, you'd burn a salad if you didn't have Lollery to look after you! She's right, too. Why, I remember last winter..."

Tagg interrupted again. "Did you by chance hear the vermin's names, sir?"

Robald Forthright consumed a fruit biscuit topped with cheese at one bite, nodding vigorously. "Oh, yes, indeed I did. One was called Chief, stoat I think; there was another stoat too, Rawback, and a rat, ratess she was, name of Dagrab. Great seasons, where do they get these odd names, eh?"

Suddenly Robald put aside his food. "Good grief, I've just thought on, if they follow the streamcourse they're bound to come out in the woodlands, right by Great-Aunt Lollery's cottage. Oh dearie me, doesn't bear thinking about, does it?"

Tagg stood up, quickly putting together enough food to eat as they traveled. "You'd best show us the way to your nurse's cottage, Robald."

The hedgehog picked up his carved sycamore club. "Do you think I shall need this? It's fearfully heavy and I've never had cause to use it before. I'm not sure I could, really."

Nimbalo stood tapping his tail impatiently. "Sling it away, mate. No use totin' a club if'n ye can't use it."

Robald put the weapon aside gingerly. "Quite! Follow me, please."

He set out across the flatlands. Tagg scratched his head, bemused. "I thought you said your nurse lived in the woodlands close to the streambank. What are we going this way for? Wouldn't it be best to follow the course of the stream?"

Robald wiggled his eyebrows knowingly. "Most creatures would think that, my friend; a common misconception, I fear. Over the seasons I've found this route the shorter by a considerable time. The stream course meanders and winds far too much. Trust me, my way is altogether more convenient."

Tagg could see the woodland fringe through the layers of midday heat haze. "Looks like he's right," he murmured to Nimbalo. "This is a quicker way."

"Aye, prob'ly is, mate," the harvest mouse whispered out the corner of his mouth, "but I jus' wish ole Robald'd give 'is face a rest. Huh, 'e could talk the leg off'n a table!"

The hedgehog smiled patronizingly at Nimbalo. "I could not help but overhear your remark, friend Nimbalo. Quite incorrect, of course; it would take physical force to remove a table leg. However, as to my verbosity, I fear you are right. When deprived of company one tends to practice the art of conversation far more than one normally would. Had you seen my abode prior to its present state, you would have promptly noticed the absence of birds, bees, wasps, midges and sundry other creatures frequenting the area. They invariably leave after listening to my interminable prattling. Forthright by name and Forthright by nature, as Great-Aunt Lollery often says. I speak my mind, you see, always and often, even since infancy."

Tagg and Nimbalo strode out with a will, speeding up their pace and leaving the talkative Robald behind. The otter had to stifle his laughter as Nimbalo impersonated the hedgehog. "Spoke 'is mind since infancy? Hahaha, can you imagine that 'un when 'e was an 'ogbabe, sittin' up in the cradle an' spoutin' away like that? HT say, Great-Auntie Lollery, frazzle me up a measured portion of the ole oatmeal porridge inna pan, but make certing the fire is at the correct temperature, will ye? Ho yes!"

Robald had now fallen far behind. "I say," he called, "would you kindly do me the courtesy of accommodating your pace to mine? I feel distinctly breathless!"

"Then stow the gab, y'ole windbag," Nimbalo shouted back. "Button up yore mouth an' let yore paws do the work. We ain't stoppin' for ye!"

Robald broke into a scurrying waddle and caught them up. "Point taken. I am suitably chastened, and from hereonin my lips shall remain sealed. Thank you for your comments, friend Nimbalo."

Hot and dusty, they arrived at the fringe of the sheltering trees, entering gratefully into the cool shade of woodlands dappled by the noontide sun. Robald was about to sit on the moss beneath a broad spreading oak when Tagg hauled him back onto his paws.

"If you're worried about Aunt Lollery, there's no time to rest. Which way do we go now?"

Robald gestured with weary resignation. "You are right, of course, friend Tagg. Over that way. The stream grows quite broad there, where it joins the river. In a moment or two of walking you'll hear the watersounds. Extremely soothing to one's nerves after crossing the exposed flatlands."

He was right. Within the space of a short walk they reached the point where river met stream. Laburnum, willow and spindle trees trailed their drooping branches gracefully into the placid dark waters of a calm inlet. Robald quickened his pace and hurried out onto a spur dotted with cranberry, water mint and flowering rush. A huge raft was moored there, which seemed to upset Robald. He jumped up and down, stamping his paws.

"No! No! Nononono! Why oh why did I pick the same time to visit as those confounded Dillypins?"

Tagg raced to join the hedgehog. "Robald, what is it? Has something happened to your nurse?"

The hedgehog pointed an accusing paw at the raft. "Don't you see, it's those uncouth ignoramuses. Those ... those ... great spiked louts. The Dillypins, I mean!"

His rantings were cut short as a small rough-looking hogbabe emerged from the shrubbery behind them and whacked Robald's footpaw with a little club. He hopped about in agony as the hogbabe threw back his head and went into gales of gruff laughter.

"Ahohohoho! Gotcha dat time, h'Uncle Robald. Hohohohoho!" The babe brandished his club and went after Nimbalo's paws. Tagg picked him up in one paw and took his club away.

"Where's your mum and dad? Quick, before I eat you!"

The hogbabe showed no fear, merely pointing along the stream. "Down dere, h'eatin' up Lollery's pancakes. I show ya. Lemme down!"

Robald limped along in the rear as Tagg and Nimbalo hurried through the trees after the speeding hogbabe. Rounding a sharp curve in the streambank, he pointed to a cottage. It was all a woodland cottage should be, built from logs and roofed with sod and moss on larch trellis. A neat little garden of flowers and vegetables with a white rock border skirted the front. Rough laughter, singing and the strains of odd instruments came from behind the cottage. Robald hobbled up, a look of despair and pain on his chubby features.