Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Ruggan ignored his old soothsayer. He had heard all that before. "No, you, Grissoul, what did you say?"

Sawney Rath's former Seer stared at the bones she had cast down.

"He who has the Taggerung slain,

Shall take on the champion's name,

Zann Taggerung, lord of Juskas all,

Beware the bells within Redwall!"

Ruggan's golden eyes reflected the dancing flames. "What does all that mean? Tell me!"

Grissoul remained hunched over the scattered bones, unmoving. Ruggan Bor had witnessed Seers in a trance before, and he repeated the command. "Say the lines again and explain to me what they mean."

Ermath was not overfond of Grissoul. The other vixen had been slowly usurping her position since Ruggan took over her clan. Ermath scuffled across to Grissoul and shook her roughly. "Answer the question. Speak when my lord commands ye!"

Grissoul did not respond. She slumped forward until her muzzle touched the ground. There was shock in Ermath's voice. "Lord, she is dead!"

Ruggan Bor used the flat of his saber blade to lift Grissoul's head. He inspected the dead vixen and let her head drop down again. "She was old. Creatures die when they grow too old. Did you understand what she said? Can you remember the lines?"

Ermath cringed back into the shadows. "Nay, lord, 'tis not for me to read the omens of another Seer. Who knows what anybeast sees at the sight of Hellgates, where rules the"

Ruggan cut her short as he lay down to rest. "Get my guards to bury her. 'Tis of no matter, the ramblings of a dying vixen. Leave me now, I will rest."

Any dreams of bells, Taggerungs or Seers that crossed Ruggan Bor's trails of sleep were forgotten when the impressive fox woke at dawn's misty light.

Four days later, on a morning dampened by fine warm drizzle, the Juskabor clan reached the old campsite. Fires were lighted in the lee of sheltering dunes, and cooks began preparing the first hot meal they had eaten in a while. Ruggan Bor stared around. Pacing the ground, he unsheathed his saber. "Bring the stoat Gruven here to me."

Gruven was hauled forward on his rope by the six guards. He knew it was no good blustering to the golden fox, so he put on a casual air, as if he was in command of the situation.

"Ah, Ruggan, the very beast I've been wanting to see. Well, here we are at last, eh. You know, I left this camp a simple warrior and returned as the Taggerung ..." His voice trailed off under Ruggan Bor's unblinking stare.

"The head, Gruven. Where did you leave the head?"

Again Gruven changed his attitude, drawing himself up regally. "My name is Gruven Zann Taggerung. I protest at your treatment of me. I will not speak until this rope is taken from me!"

The saber whipped through the air, slicing the whiskers from the left side of Gruven's muzzle. Ruggan Bor's expression had not changed. "My next stroke will take off your ears, then I'll start working down your body, bit by bit. Where is the Taggerung's head?"

Gruven sat down on the sand and wept like a babe. "I threw it in the stream."

"What stream? There's no stream around here."

"The stream! The stream! It's back there in the woodlands!"

"Which woodlands? Those northeast of here?"

"Yes, yes! Over that way, that's them!"

"So, what did you do with the body?"

Unexpectedly, Gruven began to laugh. He looked straight up into the fox's golden eyes, giggling and sobbing. "In the swamp! I threw it in the swamp! Heehee, the head too, all in the swamp, gone forever, heeheehee!"

Ruggan nodded to the guards. "Get him up on his paws. Let's go and find this swamp."

Birds were singing, drizzle slackened off and the sun broke through as they entered the woodlands. Ruggan gave orders for his Juskabeasts to fan out and search for the boglands, whilst he and the six guards rested close to the tree fringe, with Gruven in their midst. Halfway through the afternoon a youngish fox came loping back to report.

"Sire, we found the swamp, it's a big 'un. First we thought there was nothin' about 'cept a few frogs'n'lizards. But then we caught this crazy stoat. The rest are bringin' 'im. Be 'ere soon, sire."

"That's two crazy stoats we'll 'ave now, hawhaw!" the scarred rat whispered to the muscular ferret. He went silent as the golden eyes swept by him and came to rest on Gruven.

"Do you know of a crazy stoat hereabouts?"

Gruven's mood had changed. He looked completely mournful. "They're dead, all dead, I killed 'em. All dead an' gone!"

Ruggan heard the party bringing the prisoner in. He did not turn, keeping his eyes fixed on Gruven. Behind him a weasel called out, "Lord, this is the stoat, but 'e's right off'n 'is skull, mad as a toad with a tail!"

The stoat was thrust forward, tightly bound. Ruggan saw Gruven's eyes go wide in horror, his voice screeching hoarsely, "Rawback? Go 'way! Yore dead! Dead, I tell ye!"

Rawback looked plump and well, owing to a plentiful diet of frogs, lizards and other swamp inhabitants, but his eyes burned feverishly, and it was obvious his sanity had snapped at some point of his swampland sojourn. He put his head on one side and poked his tongue out at Gruven, then he turned to Ruggan Bor, as if sharing a confidential secret.

"That'n there thought 'e'd done fer me, y'know. Aye, thought 'e'd sunk ole Rawback in the swamp. Hohoho! Right up ter me nose 'twas, but I ain't no fool, I got out. Big branch, luvly branch, growin' right over me 'ead. I grabbed it. Two days! Two days I was, pullin' meself out, liddle diddy bit by liddle diddy bit. Hohoho! Fooled yer, didn't I, Gruven? You ain't no mate o' mine no more. You wouldn't push nobeast in a swamp, would ye, sir?"

Ruggan signaled the guards to untie Rawback. "Of course I wouldn't, my friend. Sit down here by me. Bring him food and some blackberry wine, we're going to talk together."

Rawback clutched Ruggan's paw and kissed it. "Blackberry wine an' real vittles! Seasons smile on ye, sir. Ye don't know wot this means t'me. Talk? I'll talk to ye, me good sir. Wot d'you want ter know? Ole Rawback'll tell ye!"

Gruven thought of making a dash for freedom, but the scar-faced rat's lance tickled the nape of his neck and the muscular ferret's spearpoint was a hairsbreadth from his stomach.

Rawback ate like a ravening wolf, ripping into warm ryebread and a roasted woodpigeon, guzzling blackberry wine until it dripped down his chin. Ruggan patted his back. "You're one of the old clan, I can tell by your tattoos. Eat up, there's plenty more where that came from. I want you to tell me about Gruven. Did he slay the Taggerung?"

Half-chewed food and wine sprayed from Rawback's mouth. "Wot, you mean Gruven? Hohohoho, d'ye think 'e killed the Taggerung?"

Gruven tried to drown Rawback out by shouting, "Don't lissen to that crazybeast! He's mad! You wouldn't believe anythin' that fool says, would ye?"

The tough lean vixen grabbed Gruven in a headlock. She stuffed his mouth with a sod of earth and grass, holding it shut whilst the scar-faced rat bound the stoat's muzzle shut with his own belt. Ruggan pushed more wine at Rawback. "He won't disturb us, friend. Now tell me everything, right from the start when you left camp."

The blackberry wine swiftly loosened the stoat's tongue, and it seemed to restore his powers of recall also. Rawback related the full tale of the hunt for the Taggerung. Ruggan Bor listened carefully to it all, particularly the episode of what took place at Redwall. For a madbeast, Rawback had an excellent memory.

"Well, there we was, see, all in the ditch outside o' Redwall Abbey's front gate. Eefera an' Vallug's shoutin' fer them to bring out the Taggerung. Then this mouse we was 'oldin' prisoner breaks loose, an' it all goes wrong. Vallug slays an ole blind stripedog with an arrer, an' the mouse grabs a battle-axe an' goes after Dagrab. Nobeast's watchin' me'n'Gruven, so 'e snatches 'is sword an' runs off north up the ditch. That's when I escaped too. I follered Gruven. I chanced to look back to see if we was bein' chased. I saw Vallug Bowbeast lyin' dead, an' I saw the Taggerung too. But 'e was chasin' Eefera westward o'er the plain. It was the Taggerung, though; I'd know 'im anywheres. There was an arrer stickin' out of 'im, but a bowshaft wound wouldn't stop a warrior like 'im. Redwall beasts was floodin' out the gates, yellin' an' shoutin'. I knew it was all over then. So I kept me 'ead down an' ran north along the bottom o' that ditch after Gruven, fast as I could. Next thing, we leaves the ditch"