Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Ruggan Bor had heard enough. "Finish your vittles now and rest, Rawback. You can join my clan as a Juskabor."

Unused to so much food and wine, Rawback was soon snoring. Gruven was ungagged and brought before Ruggan Bor. The golden fox stared implacably at him. "You heard him. What have you got to say now?"

Gruven spat out soil and grit. He had recovered from his hysteria, and had his story ready. "Rawback's mad. Even you must be able to see that. His mind is fuddled. That was the Taggerung he saw lyin' slain in the ditch, not Vallug. His head was severed from his body. I know, I chopped it off with my own sword!"

Sipping from a flask of blackberry wine, the Juskabor Chieftain thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Why didn't you tell me this at first, instead of making up a lot of foolish lies?"

Gruven went into another of his acts. This time he was the honest warrior, rough and ready, but a little embarrassed. "Sire, I did not want you to know that I fled in the midst of a battle. But I had to, we were greatly outnumbered. I give you my word of honor, though, I slew the Taggerung outside Redwall's gates. There you have it, the truth!" He stood trembling, averting his gaze from Ruggan Bor.

A long silence followed before the Juskabor leader spoke. "I am always prepared to listen to the truth. Since you were first brought to my camp you have wriggled and lied your way all around it, Gruven. I believe Rawback. He had nothing to lose by telling the truth. My Juska warriors are wondering why I haven't slain you before now; they've seen me deal with liars and cowards before. But if you are really the Taggerung, I must allow you every chance to prove it. A Taggerung is a mighty legend among Juska clans, one to be respected and honored. I must tell you that when I first heard an otter was the chosen one I was very disappointed. My clan and I always wanted to see a fox as Taggerung. If you slew him as you say, then a lot of creatures must have witnessed the deed. We will find out the real truth, Gruven... when we reach the gates of Redwall!"

Chapter 36

Darkness fell earlier each day as the season drew into mid-autumn. The trees were bare and the harvest was in. Deyna strolled round the Abbey lawns, paw in paw with his sister and mother, savoring the moonlit night. He caught Filorn's glance. "What is it, Mama? Have I sprouted an extra ear?"

Filorn looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring. "No, son, it's just that you're so like your father, a big handsome riverdog." She shuddered slightly in the night air. Deyna swept off his cloak and placed it around her shoulders. He smiled fondly.

"And you're so like my mother and Mhera's so like my sister. Except that I'm supposed to call her Mother Abbess now. I like having two mothers, I get treated twice as well."

Deyna was very tall; Mhera looked up at him, chuckling. "Start calling me Mama and I'll kick your rudder into the pond. Isn't it time we were going inside? I can feel rain."

Deyna placed his sister under the cloak with Filorn. "Sorry. I've spent so long out in the open I hardly notice the weather. Come on, we'll take a slow walk back to the Abbey."

Filorn measured each pace deliberately. Deyna laughed. "I didn't mean that slow, Mama. Come on, I've seen you running. Don't come the old ottermum with me, my beauty."

The Abbey bells tolled out softly, one ring apiece. Filorn suddenly speeded up. "That's what I was waiting for. Come on, you two, I'll race you!"

Shoulder to shoulder with Mhera, she sped off across the Abbey lawn as the first drops of rain fell. Deyna caught up with them, sweeping both off the ground and running for the Abbey door. Mhera and Filorn were laughing, kicking and shouting.

"Hahaha, put me down, you great lump, put me down!"

"I'm the Abbess, you can't do that to me, put me down, baby brother! Hahaha, oh dear, hope nobeast sees us. Hahaha!"

Deyna joined in the fun. "I can't, Mama, you'll get your paws wet, and you too Mother Abbess. Got to keep my little old sister dry. Hohoho!"

Boorab and Nimbalo were waiting in the warm shaft of light from the open door. The harvest mouse shook his head sadly. "Lookit me pore ole mate, forced t'carry 'is wicked family 'round fer the rest of 'is life. Shame, ain't it?"

The hare fixed them with a disdainful glance as they arrived on the doorstep. "Dreadful goin's on, wot? Here's me in me dwindlin' seasons, but I notice the bounder hasn't offered t'carry me around!"

Deyna set his mother and sister down lightly. Then he lifted Boorab up and set him on his shoulder. "Right, where d'you want me to carry you to, sir?"

"I say, jolly decent of you, wot. Straight inside, laddie buck. I can't wait to get at the jolly old harvest feast they've set up in your honor. Absoflippinlutely famished I am!"

The others followed Deyna and Boorab inside, Mhera calling, "You puddenheaded hare, you've given the surprise away!"

Great Hall was decorated with multicolored lanterns and sheaves of flowers, and the tables had been laid beautifully. Everybeast from Dibbun to elder raised a hearty cheer at Deyna's appearance, and he was forced to feign surprise.

"Great seasons of thunder! What a marvelous spread! Thank you, friends one and all. Thank you!"

Boorab tugged Deyna's ear. "I say, old scout, any chance of lettin' me down, wot?"

"Hurr hurr, you'm stayen oop thurr, zurr, give us'n's a chance at ee vikkles. 'Old on to ee gurt glutting, zurr Deyna!"

Boorab bared his teeth at Gundil. "If he does I'll scoff his blinkin' ears one at a time!"

Deyna sat at the head of the big table, with Filorn, Mhera, Nimbalo and Hoarg, Redwall's oldest inhabitant. It was a feast to remember, happiness and friendship enhanced by the best of Redwall fare. Puddings, pies, pasties and cakes were arranged between fruit, berries and nuts, both fresh and preserved in honey from last autumn's harvest. Salads, breads and soups of every variety jostled for position with trifles and flans. Drogg Cellarhog had outdone himself with his selection of ales, cordials, teas and fizzes. But the highlight was a great cheese, produced by Filorn, Boorab, Nimbalo and Gundil. The hare watched anxiously as it was served from the table's far end.

"Steady on there, you molechaps, leave a smidgen for the Master of Abbey Music. Have a bit of respect for my cheese, you rotters!"

However, there was still almost three-quarters of the huge cheese left when it reached the much-relieved hare. He cut a large wedge, arranging it on a platter with some salad, pickled onions and a farl of warm ovenbread, and passed it proudly along to Deyna.

"Try that, sah. Go on, taste it and tell me if you've ever scoffed anything so good, wot?"

Deyna cut the cheese and tossed half to Skipper, so they could both sample it. Filorn smiled at their delighted expressions. "We made a new yellow cheese and spiked it with nuts, celery and herbs, then we soaked it for three days in boiling carrot and dandelion juice mixed with pale cider. Mr. Boorab gave it a name, but it's too complicated to say."

The hare bowed gallantly. "Quite simple, marm. We made it together, so I took a bit of our names, all four. It's a filboonimgun. Nice title, wot?"

Mhera nudged her brother. "I'd never get any if I had to remember that name. I think I'll just call it the nice big tasty cheese."

Nimbalo winked knowingly. "That's 'cos you ain't got a memory like me, Abbess. Ahoy, Friar Bobb, pass me the floggingrumble cheese, will ye?"

Fwirl corrected him. "It's called the grungleflingboo cheese, isn't it?"

Others joined in, complicating the name Boorab had so painstakingly invented.

"No no, miz Fwirl, 'tis the floogenbumble, I think."

"Nay, zurr, et be's ee groggenfumble, oi'm surrpint!"

"Don't be silly, the cheese is called the fumblegroogen!"