The Taggerung (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  ‘Be still, ye great daft lump. Look wot you’ve gone an’ done to yoreself. ’Old ’im still, Jurkin!’

  Tagg woke to find the hedgehog pinning him flat, whilst Nimbalo tugged at his paw.

  ‘Pass me that blade, mate, that’ll get it out!’

  Tagg looked up at Jurkin. ‘Wh-what happened?’

  Shaking his head, the big rough hedgehog relieved the otter of his knife and gave it to Nimbalo.

  ‘Wot ’appened? You tell me, matey. I think you was ’avin’ a nightmare. Kickin’ an’ roarin’ away like a madbeast. Pore ole Nimbalo ’ere was near knocked overboard, then you turns over face down an’ slams yore paw right on to a big deck splinter.’

  Tagg flinched as the harvest mouse released his paw and held a long sliver of pine in front of his eyes.

  ‘Lookit that. Size of a blinkin’ cob o’ firewood!’

  Jurkin fetched a herbal paste, cleaned Tagg’s paw and put a light softbark dressing on it, talking as he worked.

  ‘Aye, that must’ve been some kind o’ dream, Tagg. Can you remember wot it was about?’

  Tagg winced as the paste entered his deep splinter wound. ‘I can only recall fragments, red warriors, a room with walls of red stone, a mouse warrior carrying a great sword. I think his name is Deyna, I’m not sure.’

  Jurkin tied off the dressing. ‘Sounded to me like you was dreamin’ of Redwall Abbey.’

  Tagg felt his neckfur prickle at the sound of the name. ‘Redwall Abbey? What’s that, and why should I be dreaming of it?’

  Jurkin’s spikes rippled evenly as he shrugged. ‘Sorry, mate, I can’t tell ye that. But from wot you was shoutin’ I knew it was summat to do with Redwall Abbey an’ Martin the Warrior mouse. I know the place. I was there once.’

  The otter’s eyes went wide with astonishment. ‘I thought all of this was only some imaginary place in my dreams. But you were there! Tell me about it, Jurkin. Please!’

  Jurkin stroked his cheekspikes. ‘Ain’t much to tell. My ole mum’n’dad took me there for a summer when I was just a liddle ‘og. We went t’visit some fat ole cellarhog, a first cousin of a second brother twice removed, or summat like that. I remember, though, ’twas the ‘appiest season o’ my life. What a wunnerful place, Redwall Abbey. There was mice an’ squirrels, moles, an’ otters an’ ’edge’ogs, just like me’n’you, mate, all livin’ together there in peace. The vittles, oh, they was better’n anythin’ you ever put in yore mouth. Er, that warrior mouse you mentioned, ’is name’s not Deyna, it’s Martin the Warrior. I saw ’is picture, woven on a big tapestry there, an’ the sword too, ‘angin’ on the wall. Martin was one of the creatures who ’elped t’build Redwall Abbey, long long ago. They say ’e’s been dead fer many seasons, but the spirit of Martin still ’elps an’ protects that Abbey, aye, an’ everybeast in it. Redwall’s a very special place, Tagg.’

  The otter was bewildered by his friend’s revelations. ‘But . . . but who is Deyna?’

  The hedgehog’s brow furrowed. ‘I dunno. I’m tellin’ ye wot I recall of Redwall, but that was a long time ago, mate. I can’t remember everything’, y’know!’

  Tagg clenched his bound paw and stared hard at it. ‘Sorry, Jurkin. Neither can I. That’s why I was asking you.’

  Nimbalo sat looking from one to the other and shaking his head. Tagg caught the look of comic amusement on his friend’s face.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, grinning away, with a face on you like a mole sitting on a feather?’

  The harvest mouse rested his chin on one paw. ‘Wot a pair, eh? Yore tellin’ Jurkin about some ole dream you ’ad, an’ Jurkin’s tellin’ you about the place in yore dream. A place that ’e’s been to!’

  Jurkin stared hard at Nimbalo. ‘So?’

  Puffing out his little chest, Nimbalo roared, ‘So why don’t ye tell Tagg where the place, this Redwall Abbey, is, eh? Then ’e can go an’ see fer hisself!’

  It struck Tagg like a hammer blow. ‘Right! Tell us where Redwall is, mate!’

  The Dillypin chief gnawed thoughtfully on a facespike. ’Er, if I can remember . . .’

  BOOK THREE

  * * *

  Deyna

  * * *

  23

  Dawn had passed, morning was through and Mossflower Wood shimmered gently in noontide sun. Durby and Feegle, however, were not aware of it as they lay bound inside a smelly sack down a dark disused mole tunnel. Poskra the water rat kicked the wriggling sack and snarled.

  ‘Wun more peep out o’ yiz an’ inter the dinnerpot y’ill go!’ He ran his tongue around the one tooth left in his gums. Life was hard, but good fortune had finally fallen on him. He cackled to himself. Fallen on him literally, right from the battlements of the Abbey’s east wall.

  Poskra was a loner. He had been thrown out of several tribes, lucky to be alive after the petty thefts and malicious acts he had perpetrated. Long seasons of travel and hardship had sharpened his natural cunning, but without leading to any great success, until he stumbled on Redwall Abbey. Knowing the good Redwallers would not even allow one like him past their gates, he had hung about watching, staying well hidden. He knew that sooner or later an opportunity would present itself, and it did. The previous evening he had been dozing in the woodland close to the east wall when he was roused by the shouts and giggling of small creatures, some of Redwall’s precious Dibbuns. There atop the battlements, two tiny figures were staggering precariously along, squeaking and laughing. Instantly Poskra knew one or both of them would overbalance and fall, and he hoped fervently that they would fall outward, not inward. The little mousemaid leaped from one battlement to the next, where she stood teetering back and forth. Then the molebabe leaped and cannoned into her. Poskra could hardly stifle his delight as they plunged outward and down. Hurrying to them, he looped cords around their stunned forms and stuffed them both into the empty gunny sack he collected food in, when there was any. A squeak and a cry from inside the wall told him that there was a third Dibbun, who had most likely gone to rouse the Redwallers. He had to hurry. Hoisting the sack on his back, Poskra backed away into the woodlands, obliterating his tracks as he shuffled off. His best night’s work in many a long season. Now he would stay hidden, maybe a full day, so that all the Abbeydwellers would be worried as to the whereabouts of the babes. Then he would approach the Abbey and trade for their lives. Damson wine was the love of Poskra’s life: warming, rich, fruity and dark. Meat and tough stringy vegetables did not matter to him any more; his toothless mouth could cope with neither. Mostly he lived off soups, which he made by boiling down any growing thing he came across, and off birds’ eggs filched from low-lying nests. But damson wine, that was the stuff to keep warmth in a body on cold nights in the woodlands. He could live on it and would not have objected to drowning in it. Damson wine!

  First he would take along some items of clothing, to convince the Redwallers of his position. Four or five flasks of the wine would do to start, then he would demand two casks, one for the safe return of each Dibbun. Poskra cackled again, this time a little louder. No, he would make it two casks ransom for each babe. Why not? He was in command. The things he could threaten to do to the infants would horrify the goodbeasts of Redwall so much that they’d be glad to pay up.

  Popping his head out of the tunnel, Poskra made sure the coast was clear, then dragged the sack up after him. Emptying his prisoners out on to the grass, the water rat produced a long, vicious-looking needle, red with rust. He waved it like a wand before the terrified Dibbuns’ eyes.

  ‘Wun, jus’ wun werd, an’ yiz’ll never see yer mummies n’more. Yew, mousey, gimme yiz apron. Moley, gimme yiz likkle belt. Look lively now, or I’ll stick yiz both wid this bodkin!’

  Wordlessly the Dibbuns did as they were bidden.

  Eefera watched them from behind the rotting trunk of a fallen beech tree. Vallug lay on his back, fletching an arrow with a woodpigeon feather.

  ‘Wot’s the ole slimeskin up to now?’

  Eefera dropped down b
eside the Bowbeast. ‘Takin’ the apron offa the mouse an’ the belt from the mole.’

  Vallug sighted one eye along the arrow shaft, testing its level. ‘Wot does the fool want t’do that for?’

  Always the clever one, Eefera knew the answer. ‘I think the rat’s kidnapped ’em an’ he’s after ransom from the Abbey. We could use those two infants.’

  Vallug thought a moment before he caught on to the idea. ‘Aye, we could use ’em as hostages an’ trade ’em for the otter!’

  There was no disguising the sarcasm in Eefera’s voice. ‘By the carcass of Sawney, did ye think of that all by yerself?’

  The arrow point suddenly nicked Eefera as it pressed against his neck. Vallug smiled coldly. ‘Aye, I did. I’ve ’ad a few good ideas lately. Do I really need a partner like you, that’s one of ’em!’

  The arrow point pressed harder, but Eefera did not seem impressed. ‘Cut yore own nose off to spite yer face, wouldn’t ye, Vallug? The game ain’t over yet; you’ll need me. Now, don’t y’think you’d best do summat about those babes afore the rat gets away with ’em, instead of lyin’ ’ere arguin’, eh?’

  Poskra was trying to stuff the Dibbuns back into the sack, but he was encountering difficulty doing it. Feegle squeaked in pain as he grabbed her by the neck. Though still bound, Durby launched himself on the water rat and bit his ear.

  ‘Yurr, ratten, you’m leavin’ moi Feegul be!’

  Poskra let go of Feegle. Clapping a paw to his bleeding ear, he raised the needle, kicking Durby over on to his back. ‘I make yiz scream loud fer dat, mole!’

  Poskra stood for a moment with the rusty needle raised, then dropped it. His eyes turned upward, and he fell upon Durby, with a newly fletched arrow protruding from the back of his skull.

  ‘Hurr,’ the molebabe called breathlessly from beneath Poskra’s body. “Elp oi, Feegul. Ee ratten be a crushen oi gurtly!’

  The mousebabe gave a shrill scream of fright. Eefera’s evil tattooed face loomed over her as he pulled the carcass of Poskra off Durby and tossed it aside.

  ‘Nasty ole water rat that ’un, wasn’t ’e, mousey?’

  Durby smiled politely at the murderous Vallug. ‘Gudd day to ee, zurr. You’m be a taken us’n’s back to Redwall?’

  Vallug shouldered his bow and gave Durby a long stare. ‘Oh aye, we’re takin’ yer back to Redwall right enough!’

  He bundled them both into the sack.

  Mhera was beating her way through a fern bed with a willow withe, calling out the lost babes’ names. ‘Feegle, Durby, answer if you can hear me. It’s me, Mhera!’

  Fwirl came hurtling out of a sycamore, twigs and leaves falling all about as she landed near Mhera, pointing. ‘Over that way! I’ve found them. They’re in danger!’

  Mhera grasped her friend’s paw. ‘Go back to the Abbey and get help!’

  Fwirl clenched her paws resolutely. ‘There isn’t any time for that. I’ve got a plan. Come on!’

  The first stone struck Eefera in the eye. He dropped the sack and clapped both paws to his face, staring at the very pretty squirrelmaid who was readying another stone to hurl.

  ‘Yer little scum. Get ’er, Vallug!’

  The second stone stung Vallug’s ear, clacking off the side of his bow. Fwirl chose another stone from her pouch. This time it hit Eefera’s left footpaw hard. He danced about, screwing his face up and haranguing the Bowbeast.

  ‘Get the squirrel, don’t jus’ stand there. Kill ’er!’

  Fwirl dodged nimbly, and the shaft quivered in a rowan trunk. She caught Vallug a beauty on the shoulder with a biggish stone. Adding insult to injury, she popped her tongue out impudently. ‘Nyaah nyaah! Daft old paintyface!’

  Eefera began hobbling towards her, but a pebble caught him smartly in the throat. Her next stone clacked hard off the paw which Vallug was using to draw back his bowstring. The arrow fell awkwardly from the bow and Vallug wrung his paw in the air. Eefera rubbed at his throat, and another stone caught his jaw. He stiffened with rage at his tormentor’s merry laughter.

  ‘Hahahaha! I nearly got that one down your big mouth. Hahaha!’

  Eefera grabbed the sack and knotted its neck, unsuccessfully trying to dodge the well-aimed stones. He slung it upon a broken branch protruding from an ash tree. Vallug had picked up his bow, though every time he tried to take aim Fwirl took his mind off the task by hitting him with stones. Eefera rushed her, both paws up to protect his face, and a pebble bounced off his forehead. Thokk! His paw came away bloody when he touched the spot.

  ‘Why, yer liddle . . . I’ll skin yer for that!’

  He waved a paw behind his back. Vallug saw it and began circling to get behind their attacker. Eefera advanced, dodging from tree to tree. Fwirl backed skilfully off.

  Mhera emerged from behind the ash trunk and unhooked the sack from the broken branch stub. A sound from behind caused her to turn swiftly. Broggle was pointing at the sack.

  ‘Still no sign of them. What’s in the sack? I heard a lot of noise over this way so I came to see. Where’s Fwirl?’

  Using teeth and claws, Mhera ripped the sack apart. ‘Broggle, don’t ask questions, take Durby, I’ll take Feegle. Run for the Abbey, this way, not that way. If you see Redwallers in the woods tell them to get inside quickly. Now go, as fast as you can. I’ll be right behind you!’

  Eefera and Vallug kept their eyes riveted on a low bush where Fwirl had gone to earth. Vallug sent an arrow ripping into it, and there was a faint scream. The Bowbeast smiled, notching another shaft to his bowstring, and both vermin advanced slowly. The delivery of the second arrow was followed by a low gasp. Vallug Bowbeast straightened up confidently.

  ‘First one wounded ’er, but that second arrow finished ’er off!’

  They arrived at the bush to find both arrows buried in the soil at its roots. Furiously they began destroying the shrub to find their elusive foe. A rain of pebbles dropped on their heads from the upper branches of a nearby elm, followed by a dramatic cry.

  ‘Oooohhhhh! You got me! That first one wounded me, but the second arrow finished me off. Oooooohhhh! Hahahahaha!’

  Fwirl shot off through the treetops, too high and fast for any arrow to follow. Eefera looked stonefaced at his companion.

  ‘I’ll wager when we get back to that sack those young ’uns will be well gone.’

  It was Vallug’s turn to sound sarcastic. ‘Did yer think o’ that all by yerself?’

  It was late afternoon. All gates had been secured and every Redwaller was safe inside the Abbey. Mhera had lookouts and wallguards posted all round the ramparts. The elders were holding an impromptu meeting in Cavern Hole, and she hurried down to join them. Seldom had she seen Cregga so wrathful. The Badgermum brought her paw down on the table with a blow that almost split it. She bared her teeth, growling ferociously, ‘Vermin in Mossflower, trying to steal our Dibbuns? Gurrrr, if I had the sight of just one eye they’d wish their mothers never gave birth to them. You saw them, Mhera. What were they like?’

  As best she could the ottermaid described Vallug and Eefera, mentioning the barbarous facial tattoos of the Juska clan.

  Boorab waited until she had finished. ‘Hmm, sound like a right pair o’ scallawags if y’ask me. Young Fwirl said there was another, an old rat, but one of those two bounders slew him with an arrow, wot. Scoutin’ party, that’s what us chaps need, spot of reccying in the jolly old woodlands, wot. See how many more of the tattooed blighters are out there an’ so on. Right, I’ll volunteer to command said party—’

  Mhera took it on herself to interrupt the hare. ‘I think Fwirl can do all the scouting and spying that’s required. She’s a very courageous creature, and deserves our wholehearted thanks for her brave efforts. Thank you for your kind offer, Mr Boorab, but it would be better if you stayed put here. There’s few enough of fighting age since Skipper and his crew went off to the Hullabaloo. This Abbey and its creatures’ safety is our main concern; we don’t want any outside skirmishes. The defence of Redwall is most
important.’

  Boorab’s reply was, to say the least, a trifle frosty. ‘Oh, beg pardon an’ chop off my tongue for mentionin’ it. Tut! So that’s how a gallant chap gets treated for offerin’ help, wot!’

  Mhera immediately set about appeasing him. ‘But you misunderstood me, sir. I already had plans for you. We need an officer, one who knows what he’s doing, to command the wallguards and see to the outer walls’ security. I was hoping that you’d accept the post.’

  Boorab sprang to attention, knocking his chair over, and saluted with a wooden ladle, almost raising a bump on his head. ‘Say no more, O fair one, say no more. I’m the very chap you’re lookin’ for, wot, wot wot! Leave it to me! I’ll straighten out that idle sloppy lot on our walltops, or m’name ain’t Bellscut Oglecrop Obrathon Ragglewaithe Audube Baggscut. Commencin’ duties as of now. Permission t’leave the mess, Cregga marm!’

  Cregga made a small salute. ‘Permission granted. Carry on, sah!’

  Boorab performed a smart left turn, tripped over the leg of his fallen chair, went flat and leaped upright in the same movement. He marched off, muttering under his breath in fine military form.

  ‘Right, look out, you bunch of limp lilies, here comes an officer on parade, wot! I’ll have your guts for garters, spikes for supper an’ snack on your spines, when I’ve straightened ’em up a bit! Hoho, me bold laddie bucks, eyes front, chests out, shoulders square, backs straight, paws at an angle t’the seam o’ the garments, wot wot, wotwotwotwotwot!’

  Cregga and the elders waited until Boorab was well out of earshot before the Badgermum nodded to Mhera.

  ‘Well done, friend, that was very diplomatic of you. So then, what’s your next move to be?’

  Mhera felt rather flustered. ‘I’m sorry, Cregga, I didn’t mean to interrupt an elders’ meeting. I only came to see if I could be of any help.’

  Cregga turned her sightless eyes towards Brother Hoben. ‘Well I for one think Mhera’s been an enormous help. Already she’s got rid of that babbling hare and taken care of the Abbey defences at the same time. What d’you think, Brother?’