Skipper buried the knifepoint in the cave wall. ‘Fair enough. Now wot d’ye want me to do?’
The ancient one made a dismissive gesture. ‘Geddout, go you! Make d’soup for Rukky, an’ tell yore crew keep ’way, far ’way. Mebbe call if’n I need ye, young pup.’
Skipper left the cave as Rukky began building a fire of special herbs and dried roots. Deyna lay motionless on the ledge, oblivious of all around him. Pale whitish smoke wafted around the cave, fragrant and exotic. The otterfixer opened a dark lacquered box and began choosing her instruments.
Blekker and Swash were making a rush net to catch freshwater shrimp at the riverbend when Skipper loped up. The others of the ottercrew gathered round to hear his report.
‘Rukky sez she can fix Deyna up, but he won’t be fit to travel until early autumn, when the russet apples start t’fall. I’m goin’ to stay an’ keep the soup pot goin’ for ’er. Blekker an’ Swash, you carry the news back to Redwall. Deyna’s mama an’ sister’ll want to know he’s goin’ to live. Oh, an’ take a score o’ the crew with ye. They can stop at the Abbey just in case any more vermin turn up at the gates!’
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 organised, 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 for ever. 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 realised 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 realise this!’
Hoben kept his voice calm, staring levelly at the Sister. ‘I assure you, most of us do realise 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 honour 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 here, like 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, SITTAGALLs 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?
* * *
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 honour 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) favourite drinks to the tables. This involved a good amount of choosing and tasting, in which they all took part cheerfully.
‘Yurr, this’n strawbee fizzer be’s a good ’un!’
‘Hmm, y’don’t say, marm? Let me taste a smidgen. Nimbalo, old scout, tell me what y’think of this October Ale, wot?’
‘Prime stuff, matey. ’Ow d’ye brew this stuff, mister Drogg?’
‘With tender lovin’ care, friend. ’Tis a secret known only to Redwall Cellarkeepers, passed down over countless seasons. Now, take a drop o’ this pale cider, sweetened with heather’n’clover honey. Ole Cregga Badgermum’s very partial to it.’
Sister Alkanet appeared in their midst, paws akimbo. ‘Then perhaps you’d better leave a drop in case she’s thirsty!’
The tasters shuffled about like naughty Dibbuns caught in the act.
‘We were just doin’ a spot of checkin’, marm, wot. Right, chaps, let’s get this lot up to Great Hall. ’Scuse us, Sister, wot wot!’
Mhera and Fwirl were getting the Dibbuns ready, helped by Egburt and Floburt. Soapwort, blended with rose petals and almond oil, created a sweet aroma round the dormitory. Fwirl and Mhera washed and dried the little ones, passing them on to Floburt and Egburt, who dressed them in spotlessly clean smocks, amid loud protests.
Brother Hoben popped his head round the doorway. ‘Great seasons, who are all these nice shining creatures? Surely not the mucky little Dibbuns who were playing in the orchard this afternoon!’
Trey the mousebabe waved a tiny paw at Hoben. ‘You nex’ t’get washed, Bruvver. Looka you, ole muckybeast!’
Hoben allowed the Abbeybabes to drag him in, and good-naturedly pretended to protest as Fwirl readied a soapy flannel. ‘No, please, I haven’t got time. I’m very busy. What’ll I do if soap gets in my eyes?’
The little mousemaid Feegle scoffed at him scornfully. ‘Keep you eyes closed then, an’ don’t cry.’
Hoben allowed Fwirl to wash his paws and face, wincing as she dried him roughly and combed the tats out of his whiskers. The Dibbuns roared with laughter at his mock sulks. ‘Ouch, ow! There’s soap in my eye an’ you’re hurting me!’
Mhera and Fwirl played along with the Brother.
‘Be still, you silly great mouse, let me dry down those ears!’
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Brother. Look at these Dibbuns, they never made half the fuss you’re making!’
Early evening bells tolled out over Redwall Abbey, calling all its inhabitants to the feast. Filorn took her daughter’s paw as they crossed Great Hall together. There was a tinge of regret in Mhera’s voice.
‘I wish Deyna was here tonight. I’ve never really met him and I only saw him for a short time.’
The ottermum patted her paw gently. ‘Don’t fret, Mhera, there are many seasons ahead for you both to get to know one another. Skipper is a good beast. I trust him. He’ll bring Deyna back to us safe and sound, you’ll see. Now smile, my pretty one. Don’t let our Badgermum feel that you’re unhappy in any way.’
Sister Alkanet shuddered visibly as a discordant jangle grated on her nerves. Boorab and a half-dozen otters lugged the haredee gurdee across the stone floor towards the tables. She sniffed. ‘I hope you don’t intend making a din with that infernal contraption and ruining the evening?’
The irrepressible hare saluted and jingled his earbells. ‘Din, marm? Beggin’ y’pardon, I’m an expert musician, I don’t make dins. Never know when one needs a trusty old haredee gurdee at a party, wot. Gangway, you chaps, make way for a priceless instrument an’ a valued an’ talented creature. Master of Ceremonies, y’know. Miss Mhera said I could perform the honours. Charmin’ young gel, that ’un, bit like her dear mama, wot!’
When everybeast was seated and the bells had ceased tolling, Boorab arose and pounded the tabletop with a ladle. ‘Good evenin’, chaps, chapesses an’ goodbeasts all. Ahem! Pray silence whilst Brother Hoben says the grace!’
Hoben nodded to the hare and proceeded.
‘Seasons of plenty at Redwall,
Yield their bounty to us all,
From the good earth’s fertile soil,
We who bent our backs in toil,
Reaped Mother Nature’s rich reward,
To bring unto this festive board,
This food which we have laboured for,
What honest beast could ask for more,
Save that kind seasons never cease,
And hope to live long lives in peace!’
Midst a loud and fervent amen, Boorab’s ladle hit the table again. ‘Well done, sah! Redwallers, kindly be upstandin’. I propose a toast, to the creature we are here to jolly well honour. Cregga, Badgermum of this Abbey!’
Everybeast, even the smallest Dibbuns, arose and raised a profusion of beakers, cups, goblets and tankards. The roar almost shook the rafters as they took up the toast.
‘To Cregga, Badgermum of this Abbey!’
Gundil, quite overcome by the moment, scrambled beneath the table, hurried across to Cregga and shook her paw heartily. ‘Hurr, mum, ee be’s gurtly luvved yurr. Do ee say a speech!’
Several more came forward to prop the badger up on her pillows. Cregga’s sightless eyes turned this way and that, as if she could see every creature sitting around her.
‘Thank you, Gundil. I hope you’ll bear with me, friends. I have quite a few words to say, some of great importance.’
Boorab quaffed off a beaker of redcurrant cordial. ‘Then say on, old gel. We’re all ears, wot!’
‘Yore the only one ’ere who’s all ears, mate!’
Cregga waved a paw, silencing the laughter Nimbalo’s remark had caused. ‘Thank you. Please, sit down and eat. You must all be hungry and I know a lot of hard work went into the making of my feast. Eat and listen, for I have a lot to say.’
The food was served and the feasting began as Cregga continued, ‘The seasons of Abbess Song were finished before any of you were born, I think. I was her greatest friend and she left me in charge of our Abbey. I didn’t take the position she offered me as Abbess, but chose instead to be a caretaker, until a likely candidate appeared as Abbot or Abbess. I was guided by the teachings and wisdom of my friend Song in my search. Though you did not know it, I waited many many seasons, always listening and paying attention to all about me. One day I discovered a likely prospect. At first I was not sure, so I had to wait longer, observing the young Redwaller who attracted my interest. Then I set about educating my candidate, leaving clues, giving hints and always paying attention to the creature of my choice. Nobeast, not even I, can live for ever; since I took that vermin arrow this fact has become quite plain to me. So tonight I propose to elect, with your approval, a new Abbey leader.’
Immediately, all Redwallers, including Boorab and Nimbalo, ceased eating to hear Cregga’s announcement.
‘Mhera, daughter of Filorn, would you come over here to me, please.’
The ottermaid stood up amid wild applause, cheers, whistles and ladles pounding upon tables. Willing paws pushed her forward.
‘Congratulations, my dear! Oh goodness, to think a daughter of mine is going to rule Redwall!’
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‘Hurr, miz, ee Badgermum knowed whut she wurr a doin’ when she’m chosen ee, ho aye, boi ’okey she’m did, hurr hurr hurr!’
‘Jus’ like yore brother, missy, yore a nat’ral leader, but far prettier than ’im, even though ’e is me matey!’
‘Oh I say, top hole, m’gel, spiffin’, wot! Does this mean I’m not on probation any longer? Well played, you young . . . er, I mean O respected leader an’ all that, eh wot!’
‘Mhera, best wishes from Fwirl and me, and Friar Bobb!’
Sister Alkanet thrust a clean kerchief into Mhera’s paw. ‘Stand up straight now, miss, and no tears. I’d have chosen you too if I was Cregga. Go to her now.’
Mhera made it as far as Cregga’s bed, then sat beside the Badgermum and broke down sobbing. ‘Oh, Cregga, you’re not dying, are you?’
The great badger chuckled. ‘Dry your eyes, pretty one. I’m not going to pass on in the midst of my own feast and leave that hare with all the food. Look here.’ She brought from beneath her robe an object bound with strips of green cloth. She unwrapped the scraps of fabric and gave them to Mhera, together with the small bark-bound volume that had been hidden inside them.
‘There’s the rest of your mysteries. All the ITTAGALLs old Hoarg and I didn’t have time to hide around the Abbey. You can read all about them in the book, but leave that until the morrow. We’re right in the middle of a celebration; I can’t have ottermaids weeping and riddles unravelling.’ Cregga raised her voice so everybeast could hear. ‘Your new Abbess Mhera is going to make an announcement.’
In the silence that followed, Trey the mousebabe piped up. ‘I ’ope it not that alla Dibbuns get anuvver wash!’
Mhera burst out laughing at the cheeky infant. ‘Hahahaha! No it’s not. As Abbess of Redwall Abbey I request that you all carry on feasting and have a wonderful time!’
Cregga waited until the roars of approval had died down. ‘Attention please, friends. I have only a little more to say before I retire and leave Mother Abbess Mhera to watch over Redwall. I would like to confirm that Boorab’s probation is now over, and he is a fully fledged Master of Abbey Music.’
The Taggerung (Redwall) Page 35
