Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

There was fierce competition among the ottercrew. A stay at Redwall with the best of food and comfort was preferable to several weeks' wait at the riverbend. Skipper got things finally organized, sending Blekker and Swash off with twenty that he had picked himself. The otter Chieftain ordered the rest to keep the soup ingredients coming daily, then he went back upriver to his lonely vigil outside Rukky Garge's den.

Six days had passed since Cregga took Vallug's arrow. She still lay on her large pad of mattresses beneath Martin the Warrior's tapestry in Great Hall. Brother Hoben and Sister Alkanet stepped outside for a breath of the late summer air. Alkanet tucked both paws into her wide habit sleeves.

"Six full days and she's still alive. Can you believe it, Brother?"

Hoben smiled and nodded his head in admiration. "Good old Cregga Badgermum. She's indestructible!" He knew he had said the wrong thing by the look on Alkanet's face.

"Hmph. Typical Redwaller, just like the rest of them, all winks and nods and smiles, telling themselves that Cregga will live forever. Now listen to me. Nobeast knows how old she really is, but that badger has lived more seasons than any four of us put together. 'Tis about time you all realized that. She took the full force of a vermin arrow close to her heart. I removed the shaft and dressed it, so only I have seen how deep and serious the wound is. Cregga hasn't long to live; her seasons have finally run out. You must realize this!"

Hoben kept his voice calm, staring levelly at the Sister. "I assure you, most of us do realize all of what you've said. But hope springs eternal, and where there's life there's hope. So we don't go about telling each other that our Badgermum is about to die. It's very hard for the Dibbuns, and those close to her, like Mhera, Broggle and Fwirl, to accept that soon they'll lose a beloved friend. So I beg you, Sister, please don't start preaching the fatal message to them."

The severe mouse fixed him with her frozen stare. "As you wish, Brother, as you wish!" She stalked off with her head erect.

Mhera and Fwirl were sitting on the mattresses with Cregga. The badger only spoke when it was necessary, and she slept a lot. But Mhera had stayed by her side the whole six days, constantly looking after her friend and chatting to her of what was going on in the Abbey.

"Guess what, Cregga? I hear that there's going to be a little celebration in your honor this evening, isn't that right, Fwirl?"

The pretty squirrelmaid looped her tail over her eyes. "Oh, Mhera, it was going to be a surprise, and now you've gone and given the secret away. What will Friar Bobb and Broggle say?"

Cregga chuckled hoarsely. "I already knew. My hearing is still good as ever. I heard them discussing the menu this morning. I hear quite a lot lying herelike now, for instance. Trouble's headed our way, the rascals." The old badger smiled as Boorab and Nimbalo marched up and seated themselves beside Mhera and Fwirl.

Despite his initial reluctance, the harvest mouse had taken to Abbey life like a duck to water. He was everywhere at once, down in the cellars picking up hints from Drogg, working in the kitchen, learning from the cooks, or out in the orchard, helping with the growing of berries, nuts and fruit. He spent quite a bit of time with Boorab. They got along famously together, usually trying to outfib one another. Today they were both in garrulous form.

"What ho, ladies. Couldn't resist the chance of a visit to three jolly pretty charmers, eh, wot wot!"

"If that oaf thinks I'm a pretty charmer he's blinder than me!" Cregga whispered to Fwirl and Mhera. She turned her attention to the new visitors. "So then, what's your real reason for bothering us? You tell me, Nimbalo. I can't believe a word that hare says."

The harvest mouse stuck his chest out proudly. "Ho, I'm an even better fibber than Boorab, marm, but I'll tell the truth this time. It's that pair in the kitchen, ole Friar Bobb an' Broggle. They won't let us 'elp with the vittles. Run the pair of us off, didn't they, mate?"

Boorab's earbells jingled as he nodded agreement. "Rather. Sent us packin' on our way, an' what for, may I ask? Huh, a couple o' pawfuls of candied chestnuts, a measly taste of summer trifle, a few sips of elderberry wine, an'.. . an'.. . what else was it, Nimbalo old scout?"

"Er, a mushroom'n'gravy flan, bowl o' salad an' some o' that soft white cheese with celery an' hazelnuts in it. An' a"

Mhera interrupted the harvest mouse. "Stop! That's quite enough. It sounds as if you tried to clean the pantries out between you. No wonder you were chased out. If I'd been there I would have showed you the way out with a broom, and you'd still be smarting from it, you pair of gluttons!"

Nimbalo wiped crumbs from his whiskers, saying sorrowfully, "Ah, 'tis an 'ard cruel life, matey, to 'ear those words from the luvly lips of my mate Deyna's own pretty sister. Well, that's wot we get for tryin' to 'elp out a little with the chores!"

Boorab's ears drooped pathetically. "Harsh words an' harsher treatment, laddie buck, that's all you can expect in this bloomin' Abbey. An' I speak as one who's a fifteen-season probationer, always the caterpillar an' never the frog. Or is it always the tadpole an' never the butterfly? I can never jolly well remember. I don't think miz Mhera deserves to see what we found, after that harsh outburst, d'you?"

Fwirl darted forward and tweaked the hare's ear. "Give it to her this instant. Come on, out with it!"

"Owowow! Me flippin' delicate shell-like lug! Give it to her, Nimbalo, quick, before I'm a one-eared relic! Owowow!"

The harvest mouse passed a strip of green fabric to Mhera. "We found it stuck t'the bottom of Friar Bobb's sandal. When he kicked us out of the kitchens it stuck to me tail."

The ottermaid felt the green homespun material. "Hmm, some honey got smeared on it. Apart from that 'tis like the others, green homespun and a scent of lilacs. Let's see what this one has scrawled on it. SITTAGALL! All in capitals."

Fwirl released the hare's ear. "SITTAGALL? That's a strange word. Sounds like the name of some odd creature. SITTAGALL. Are you sure that's not one of the long list of funny names you have, Mr. Boorab?"

The hare massaged his ear ruefully.

"It certainly is not, miz. Jolly strange, though, isn't it? You've collected quite a few others like that, Miz Mhera. HITTAGALLs, PITTAGALLs, SITTAG ALLs an' whatnot. I wonder what it's all supposed to mean? A real puzzler, wot?"

Mhera folded the fabric and put it in her beltpouch, with the others that had been found over that summer. "Indeed it is. I've tried to solve it, but I can't. I've dreamed and thought of it until I'm weary."

Cregga's heavy paw reached out and covered the ottermaid's smaller one, dwarfing it completely. "I've a feeling you'll find out very soon, my friend. Go away now, all of you, out and enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. I'm tired. I need to take a nap."

Mhera stopped in the open doorway and looked back at the Badgermum, lying propped up on pillows beneath the Abbey tapestry. Cregga's observations always turned out to be true. But how soon would it be before she found out the solution to everything?

Chapter 32

They placed the long banqueting tables, one at the bottom of Cregga's bed and one on either side, leaving a space between the latter two and the tapestried wall. It was to be a memorable feast in honor of Cregga. Every little thing Friar Bobb and Filorn knew the Badgermum liked to eat was placed by her, close to paw. Hot scones, soft cheeses, candied fruits and summer salad. Drogg Cellarhog commandeered the willing paws of Boorab, Nimbalo and Foremole Brull. Between them they brought all Cregga's (and quite a few of their own) favorite drinks to the tables. This involved a good amount of choosing and tasting, in which they all took part cheerfully.