The Taggerung (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  No sound came from within the Abbey walls, nor from the outside, where massed Juskabeasts lined the path. An hour dragged slowly by before Ruggan judged the sun to be high enough to offer no hindrance to an attack from the west. A single gesture from him sent his troops noiselessly back to the edge of the ditch. Ruggan Bor drew his sabre. The time had arrived. He signalled four spear carriers. They ran forward and thudded their spearbutts against the great oaken doors of Redwall.

  Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Ruggan had expected to wait until some old gatekeeper appeared on top of the wall to see who was knocking. Instead the doors swung open and he was faced by a wall of over twoscore otters, tough capable beasts, armed with slings and javelins. An array of squirrels, moles, mice and hedgehogs peered over the battlements, armed with all manner of throwing implements. They were led by a hare carrying a long hooked window pole.

  An otter stepped forward, half a head taller than the rest. Ruggan’s attention was caught by the sword he carried. It was slightly short for such a big creature, but a magnificent weapon none the less. The big otter looked as though he could use the blade. His gaze swept over the Juskabor, then back to their leader.

  ‘What do you want here, vermin?’

  Ruggan walked forward until he was but a pace away from the otter. ‘I am Ruggan Bor, Lord of the Southern Coasts and Chieftain of the Juskabor clan!’

  The big otter too stepped forward until his face was a whisker away from the golden fox. His voice held no fear. ‘And I am Deyna, Warrior of Redwall. I asked you what you want here?’

  Ruggan took a pace back, to stay out of sword range. ‘I want information. Do you have an otter here with his face tattooed in this manner?’

  The six guards heaved Gruven out of the ditch. The stoat stared at Deyna, bewildered. The voice was the same, but the face was different from that of the Taggerung. It had not been tattooed.

  The strange otter gave Gruven a dismissive glance. He recognised his old adversary immediately, but kept deliberately silent. Fixing his attention on Ruggan Bor, Deyna answered the fox’s question levelly. ‘There is no creature within these walls with vermin tattoos on his face. Why do you ask?’

  Ruggan did not like the way his interrogation was going. The otter Deyna was staring him down with cold ruthless eyes. He had an air of confident authority about him. Ruggan decided to turn the tables. His sabre was longer than the otter’s sword, and he pointed it threateningly in Deyna’s face. ‘Do not lie to me. I have three hundred at my back. We could overwhelm you and search your Abbey!’

  Deyna moved like lightning, backward, sideways and forward. Ruggan stood with his sabre pointed at nothing, the otter’s blade across his throat. Deyna was alongside him, a paw hard on the nape of his neck, so he could move neither forward or back.

  ‘Nobeast sets paw into Redwall Abbey without my permission. Now take your vermin and begone, or stay here and die!’

  Ruggan’s expression did not change. ‘I can only go if I have the information I came for. This otter was called the Taggerung. Was he here? Tell me, Deyna of Redwall.’

  Deyna nodded. ‘He was here once, but he is gone now. The Taggerung no longer exists. As far as I’m concerned he is dead.’

  Gruven seized the opportunity. Pushing the guards aside, he cried, ‘I told you he was dead. I slew him right there in that ditch! I am Taggerung now. Gruven Zann Taggerung!’

  Nimbalo climbed up on to a battlement, pointing at Gruven and yelling aloud, ‘Aye, that’s the one. I saw ’im slay the big painted vermin!’

  Gruven could hardly believe his ears. Here was somebeast, a little mouse, agreeing with his lies. He waved to Nimbalo. ‘Thank you, my friend, thank you! Hahahaha! Ruggan Bor, did you hear that? Now who d’you believe, crazy Rawback or me? I have a witness, you heard him. I slew the Taggerung!’

  Ruggan placed his paw to the blade at his throat. ‘Put up your sword, otter. We are leaving!’

  Ruggan ordered his Juskabeasts across the ditch on to the flatlands. Deyna stood warily, his sword still at the ready. Gruven was jubilant. He grabbed back his sword from the vixen who had taken it and sawed through the rope around his waist, laughing all the time.

  ‘Hahahaha! Gruven Zann Taggerung. Bow before me! Nobeast is mightier than the Taggerung!’

  Ruggan stood to one side, holding a hasty whispered conference with his Seer Ermath. Waving his sword and laughing hysterically, Gruven confronted the six Juska who had been his guard.

  ‘Now, you scum, I’ll show you what happens to anybeast who treats a Taggerung the way you treated me. Hahahaha! Kneel, all of you, kneel and bow your heads before me. Hahahahaha!’

  ‘Zann Juska Taggerung! He who slays the Taggerung becomes Taggerung himself!’

  Gruven half turned as Ruggan Bor swung his sabre. And Ruggan Bor kicked Gruven’s headless carcass into the ditch.

  Ermath the old vixen Seer spread her paws wide to the waiting vermin and called in a reedy trembling voice, ‘Lord of the Southern Coasts! Chieftain of the Juskabor! Ruggan Zann Taggerung!’

  A mighty roar erupted from the three hundred clanbeasts. ‘Ruggan Zann Taggerung! Taggerung! Taggerung! Juskaaaaaaa!’

  Then something happened that nobeast had ever seen before: Ruggan Bor smiled. He grinned from ear to ear and threw back his head, laughing over the spears clattering on shields, over the waving swords and blades of all kinds, over the lances thrust upward at the sky as his laughter mingled with the roar of the Juskabor clan.

  Abbess Mhera came to the open gate and wriggled between the ottercrew to her brother’s side. ‘What is it, Deyna? What’s going on out here?’

  Deyna ushered his sister gently into Skipper’s waiting paws. ‘Go back inside quickly, Mhera. Those vermin are working themselves into a frenzy!’

  Deyna was right. Ruggan Bor turned to face him, standing at the ditch edge and whirling his sabre. The Juskabor vermin leaned eagerly forward, pointing their spears and blades. Deyna knew that three hundred Juska could not resist the temptation of an Abbey defended by less than a third of their number. He signalled Skipper. ‘Get everybeast inside and bar the gates, Skip. I think there’s going to be trouble!’

  Mhera had made her way up to where Boorab was standing on the walltop, balancing between two battlements. ‘Are the vermin going to attack the Abbey?’ she called. ‘Is Deyna inside?’

  Boorab did not answer. Shading his eyes, he peered down to the southern bend of the path at the dustcloud arising betwixt woodland and flatland. He turned back to Mhera with an odd smile on his face.

  ‘Beg pardon, Abbess marm, but best cover your ears. I’m goin’ to shout.’ The hare’s narrow chest puffed out to its fullest extent as he sucked in air. Placing both paws around his mouth he bellowed mightily, ‘Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaa!’

  Nimbalo wiggled a paw in his ear. ‘Wot’s all the yellin’ for, matey?’

  Boorab pointed to the dustcloud, grinning like a madbeast. ‘C’mon, laddie buck, and you, Abbess. Filorn, marm, would you be so kind as to oblige me? You too, Hoarg, Drogg, Hoben. In fact everybeast, all shout together, loud as y’can. Eulalia’s the word, pronounced yoo lay lee ahh, long on the ah. One, two, shout!’

  ‘Eulaliiiaaaaaa!’

  Boorab had them shout another five times. Then he held up his paw.

  Down at the main gate the Juska were about to charge at the still half-open doors, the gap packed with otters prepared to take down as many vermin as they could before the gates closed. The whole scene suddenly became a frozen tableau. A colossal roar, like a tidal wave breaking against a cliff, came up from the south.

  ‘Eulaliiiiaaaaaaa!!!’

  The roaring continued and the very ground beneath the Juska began to thrum. Through the massive dustcloud emerged a giant Badger Lord at the head of a thousand fighting hares.

  Boorab chortled with delight. ‘I say, you rotters are in for a jolly good pastin’, wot,’ he called down to the vermin. ‘Here comes the Long Patrol an’ a blinkin’ Badger Lord t’the
rescue.’

  Redwallers hung over the parapets cheering. Mhera had never seen a real live Badger Lord before; he was an awesome and frightening sight. Deyna threw open the gates, marching out with Skipper and the ottercrew. Ruggan Bor and his three hundred Juska were completely taken by surprise. They had no option but to put up their weapons and stand still. The hares had split and swirled out in a massive pincer movement, leaving the vermin surrounded, their backs to the open gate, which was blocked by warlike otters. It was all done with startling speed, a smart military example of outflanking the enemy.

  Filorn buried her face in her apron. ‘Mhera, don’t look. There’s going to be a dreadful slaughter!’

  Boorab chuckled reassuringly. ‘Not at all, marm, those fightin’ hares aren’t led by some berserkin’ Bloodwrath creature. Oh dear me no, that giant beast is none other than the Lord of Salamandastron, Russano the Wise!’

  Lord Russano was twice as broad and half as high again as any creature present. He towered over all, like an oak among aspens. He was dressed humbly, in a plain brown cloak and tabard, and his wide woven belt showed no evidence of sword or other blade. In his huge right paw he carried a short length of dark polished hardwood like a sceptre. Quiet confidence and immense calm radiated from him. An older hare, with stiff whiskers and a fierce glint in his monocled eye, marched smartly up to the badger and saluted with his lance.

  ‘Position secured, everythin’ present an’ correct. Sah!’

  Russano nodded. ‘Thank you, Colonel. Who is the Chieftain of these Juska vermin?’

  Ruggan Bor was marched into the Badger Lord’s presence. Russano looked across to Deyna, who was obviously in charge of the defenders. ‘Have these Juska harmed or slain any of my Redwall friends?’

  The otter gave a small courteous bow. ‘None, sire, thanks to your timely arrival. We were just about ready to do battle; you spared us a lot of bloodshed.’

  Russano turned his attention to the Juska Chieftain. ‘Had you attacked Redwall Abbey it would have been your most fatal mistake. What do they call you?’

  The golden fox’s voice trembled as he stared up at the Badger Lord. ‘I am Ruggan Bor.’

  Russano tapped Ruggan’s chest with his hardwood stick. ‘I have heard your name spoken as Lord of the South Coasts. I am Russano of Salamandastron. Will you challenge me?’

  Ruggan Bor laid his sabre carefully at Russano’s footpaws. ‘I too have heard of you. Only a fool would attempt such a thing.’

  Abbess Mhera could not take her eyes from the Badger Lord. She watched, fascinated, as the Juska laid down their arms, wondering what Russano would do next. He pointed to the flatlands beyond the ditch, his voice rumbling out, stern and majestic. ‘Take your creatures out there and line them up in ranks a score long facing this Abbey. Stand out in front of them, Ruggan Bor!’

  Whilst the vermin slunk wordlessly across the ditch, Russano issued orders to his colonel in a low tone. Boorab winked at Abbess Mhera. ‘By the left, marm, takes a real Badger Lord to make those villains sit up a bit, wot!’

  Trey the mousebabe had sneaked up on to the walltop. He tugged Boorab’s paw urgently. ‘Do the vermints all getta tails chopped off now an’ buried inna big ’ole?’

  The hare picked Trey up and set him on a battlement to watch. ‘Indeed they do not, you bloodthirsty little bounder. You pay attention now, laddie buck. This’ll be somethin’ y’can tell your grandmice about, wot!’

  Guarded by the colonel and five hundred armed hares of the Long Patrol, the Juskabor clan were ordered down on all four paws as Lord Russano addressed them.

  ‘I have spared your miserable lives. If ever any of you are seen within a season’s march of Redwall Abbey again, I will not be so merciful. Go back to your South Coasts and stay there!’

  The fierce colonel saw Ruggan Bor starting to rise. He placed his lance on the back of the fox’s neck. ‘Stay on all fours, vermin. This is the way you and your heroes will travel until sunset. Make no mistake, fox, myself an’ five hundred o’ the best’ll go with you to make sure you do. I ain’t as easy goin’ as Lord Russano. Make one false move an’ ye’ll soon find that out to your cost, wot! Right now, listen up at the back there, you cads, wait for my sergeant’s command!’

  Two gimlet-eyed sergeants with ramrod backs and gruff voices began barking at the thoroughly cowed vermin. ‘Now then, you scruffy misbegotten lot, about turn! On the double, you dozy drooping daffodils! On all fours, heads down, tails cringin’. . . wait for it, wait for it . . . south’ard crawl!’

  Away went the Juskabor in shameful banishment, with Ruggan Bor their Chieftain not at their head, but at the rear.

  Russano stood with Deyna and Abbess Mhera, watching the vanquished enemy raising a dustcloud over the plain. As she curtsied lightly, Mhera noticed that she did not even come level with the badger’s waist.

  ‘Lord Russano, I am Mhera, Mother Abbess of Redwall. Surely fate must have sent you to our Abbey today.’

  Russano knelt and kissed the ottermaid’s paw respectfully. ‘Fate it was, Mother Abbess, that and a dream of Cregga Rose Eyes. She told me that her seasons had run. Cregga had a great and loving heart. I have made a long march from my mountain to visit her resting place, here at the Abbey of Redwall.’

  Boorab, who had been listening nearby, stepped forward and threw an elaborate salute to the Badger Lord. ‘Stap me vitals, sah, you arrived in the bally nick o’ time!’

  With a smile, Russano returned the salute. ‘We might not have. Our pace was very slow until we heard a fine military-sounding voice giving the war cry. If that was you then you deserve the compliments of everybeast.’

  Boorab clicked his footpaws together so hard that he winced. ‘Thank you, sah. Most kind of you to say so, sah. Only doin’ one’s duty, wot, wot!’

  Mhera ushered the Badger Lord inside the gates. ‘You knew our Cregga?’

  The Badger Lord’s warm dark eyes smiled. ‘She nursed me when I was a babe. I recall that for a blind badger Cregga had enormous wisdom and patience, despite the fact that she had once been the wildest of Warrior Badgers ever to march from the mountain. She taught me many things. I lived at this Abbey with her for a while and acted as her eyes when she was blinded in battle. Then I journeyed to Salamandastron and ruled in her stead. This place has many wonderful memories for me.’

  Deyna held out his paw to Russano. ‘Abbess Mhera is my sister. I am Deyna, Warrior of Redwall.’

  The badger shook Deyna’s paw cordially. ‘I knew that as soon as I saw you wearing the sword of Martin. I observe by your eyes that you are used to weapons, Deyna. I think you have led an adventurous life, my friend.’

  Deyna put a paw about his sister’s shoulders and winked at Russano. ‘I’ll tell you about it sometime, though you’d have trouble believing the half of it, matey.’

  The Badger Lord shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘Oh, I’ve seen and heard a few things that would make even your rudder curl, laddie buck!’

  When they reached Cregga’s grave, Russano took a medallion and chain from round his neck and hung it over the headstone’s edge. It had been made at the forge in the mountain of Salamandastron, and was of burnished steel, quite large and heavy. On it was graven a likeness of Cregga, with two rubies for eyes. Russano touched his big striped muzzle to the stone and murmured gently, ‘My lady, your memory will live for ever, both here and at the mountain you once ruled. Sleep in peace!’ Standing straight, he breathed deeply and wiped his eyes. ‘Deyna, I’m sorry I won’t have time to hear your story. I’ve visited Cregga now, and tomorrow morning I must leave. I’m sure you’ll forgive me, Mother Abbess.’

  Mhera arranged the medallion a little more tidily upon the stone. ‘Why must you hurry away, sir? Don’t you like our Abbey?’

  Russano waved a paw across the lawns. Hares were flooding through the gate, greeting the Redwallers and playing with the Dibbuns. ‘Like Redwall Abbey? I love the place! But I have a thousand Long Patrol hares with me, and that would strain even the most gen
erous hospitality of anybeast!’

  Placing both paws within the wide sleeves of her habit, Abbess Mhera shook her head reprovingly at Russano. ‘We owe our lives to you and your hares, lord. This Abbey has more than enough to feed and accommodate your hares for many seasons. I will not hear of your leaving tomorrow for such an absurd reason. You are our honoured guests. Surely one of the first things Cregga must have taught you was that the gates of Redwall are ever open to all our good friends!’

  The great Badger Lord, Russano the Wise of Salamandastron, sat down beside the grave. He patted the earth, gazed up at the soft autumn afternoon and picked the delicate pink flower from a vervain growing between the back of the headstone and the wall. Mhera watched him as he smelled its elusive fragrance. Russano looked for all the world like a happy Dibbun, as he must have been when he lived at the Abbey.

  He offered her the flower. ‘Oh, yes, Cregga said that to me often. You sounded just like her then. Say it again for me, please, Mother Abbess.’

  Deyna felt proud of his sister as she accepted the vervain flower and smiled at Russano. ‘The gates of Redwall are ever open to all our good friends!’

  * * *

  Epilogue

  Extract from the diary of the squirrelmaid Rosabel.

  I did not know that my story would be so long. It took me four evenings to read it. Cavern Hole was packed to the door with Redwallers each time. It was a huge success; the congratulations and cheers are still ringing in my ears. Of course there were questions to be answered. Many Dibbuns wanted to know why the Taggerung allowed Rukky Garge to remove his tattoos and cover the speedwell flower birthmark on his paw. I told them that this was so he could live out his life in peace, unknown to any Juska vermin, under his original name of Deyna. However, being what they are, the Dibbuns found this most unsatisfactory. The idea of having a wild name like Taggerung and running round with a fierce tattooed face appealed to them immensely. Our Abbey Warrior, Deyna, stayed silent throughout my reading. When I was finished he came over and kissed my cheek, and presented me with an old polished bone tailring that he had worn in his wild seasons. He told me to keep it as a souvenir. I think he was profoundly moved; I saw tears in his eyes.