Cregga sat exhausted in her big armchair. Her bedroom was teeming with Redwallers, plus the tiny mole Dibbun called Durby. He had installed himself on the Badgermum’s lap and was amusing himself by repeating everything she said. Every other beast was searching, for it stood to reason that if the monocle in the ash tree focused on the room, then there should be something of interest within. Boorab opened the corner cupboard, as numerous others had done that day. The hare poked his head inside, to find Floburt rummaging about busily.
“Jolly hungry work, missie, wot? Found anything, have you?”
The hogmaid brushed dust from her apron and sneezed. “Kerchoo! Only a lot of dust an’ cobwebs. It’d be nice to know what we’re searching for.”
Boorab whispered secretively to her. “Some ancient map to a secret hoard of crystallized scoff. Prob’ly all sorts of super chuck preserved in lashings of honey!”
Sister Alkanet pushed past them both. “Tch tch. Just the sort of a senseless idea that only a hare could think up. Let me take a look in there!”
“This is the sixth time you’ve searched my room today,” Cregga pleaded wearily, with Durby acting as echo. “Will you please go away and leave me in peace? There’s nothing here!”
“Hurr, thissa sixy time you’m be’s a surchin’ moi room. Go eeway an’ leaven oi en pieces. Thurr bain’t nuthen yurr!”
Boorab tripped over Drogg, Alkanet got locked in the cupboard, and an argument broke out between two mice who were stuck beneath the bed. Mhera decided that enough was enough. “Stop!” she called sternly. “Stop what you are doing, be quiet and stand still. Now!”
She was pleasantly surprised when they did, even the Counsel elders. Mhera changed to a reasonable tone. “Friends, please, have some respect for your Badgermum’s feelings. This room has been searched thoroughly several times without success. Leave Cregga in peace now, I beg you. Go about your tasks or leisure time elsewhere. The only creatures who really need to stay are the original searchers.”
Cregga smiled as she listened to them filing out in sheepish silence. She waited until the door closed. “Thank you, Mhera, that was beautifully done. You were quite firm and you used a considerable amount of tact.”
“Hurr, thankee, Murrer, ee were bootiful undunned. Mmmmf!”
Mhera placed a paw gently over Durby’s mouth. “What will we do about this little terror?”
Broggle put on a gruff voice. “Chop off his tail and stick it in his mouth to keep him quiet. I’ll take him to Friar Bobb’s kitchen and we’ll make molesoup of him!”
Durby scuttled down from the badger’s lap. Hurling himself on her bed, he began to make snoring noises. Then he opened one eye. “Whurroo, you’m wuddent chop ee tail off’n ee sleepin’ choild! Nay, zurr, you’m a gurt koind beast, an’ oi be a-sleepen.”
Cregga chuckled. “Thank goodness for that!”
Mhera began tidying things back into place. Fwirl lent a paw, and together they got the room back to normal. Fwirl sat down beside Broggle on a paw hassock, looking glum. “Phew, Redwallers don’t mess about when they search a room! Your friends certainly scoured this place from top to bottom. For a while there it was enjoyable, because I’ve never been inside a building before. But I feel unhappy now that we didn’t find anything.”
Mhera stared at the pretty squirrelmaid in astonishment. “You’ve never been inside a building before? How is that, Fwirl?”
They listened sympathetically as she told her story.
“I don’t remember much of my early seasons. I must have been only a babe, for I can hardly recall my parents’ faces. I can remember cries in the night; I think we were attacked by foxes. I was thrust into a hollow log, and I could hear fighting, then screams, followed by foxes laughing. I must have stayed inside that log almost all night and half a day. When I crawled out my mother was lying quite still, with a deep wound on her head and blood everywhere. My father was gone, the foxes too. I sat with my mother for a long time, but she didn’t move. I was hungry and couldn’t stop weeping. Next morning I wandered off into the woodlands to search for food. Being only an infant, I got lost. That was as far back as I can recall. There’s not much more to tell. I’ve lived in the woodlands, fending for myself ever since, always keeping on the move. Then one day I came upon your Abbey. At first I was afraid, not knowing who lived here. I used to climb the high trees so I could see inside. I watched you all; you seemed so happy and peaceful. I stayed close to the walls, and that was when I met my friend Broggle. He brought food which he had prepared for me, told me all about his Redwall friends. It must be like a dream living here.”
Mhera was smiling, though her eyes were bright with unshed tears at the squirrelmaid’s tale. She spoke to Fwirl, knowing the others would welcome her decision. “Then dream on, friend. Redwall Abbey is your home from now on!”
Fwirl clapped a paw to her mouth. “But I . . . you mean I can . . . live here forever?”
Broggle took the liberty of giving her paw a squeeze. “Haha. Nobeast lives forever, but you can stay here until you grow older than Cregga Badgermum!”
“You impudent young rip!” Cregga growled jovially. “Fwirl, my dear, let me be the first to welcome you to your new home. You are now a Redwaller!”
Durby poked his head from beneath a pillow. “An’ oi be ee secund to wellcum ee, missus. Ee be gurtly wellcumed to moi h’Abbey, ho aye!”
The Badgermum nodded toward the bed. “And as your first official chore you can take that little rip down to Cavern Hole. His mother will be looking for him. Go with Fwirl and show her the way, Mhera.”
They had to play Durby’s game. Holding a paw apiece, Fwirl and Mhera bounced the molebabe’s footpaws on each stair as they descended, the ottermaid reciting an old Abbey rhyme.
“Where’s the naughty Dibbun, tell me where?
Is that him upon the stair?
Hear the little pawsteps, one two three,
And the Dibbun shouting, ‘Can’t catch me!’
What’s for dinner, dumplin’ an’ pie,
Nice an’ hot for you an’ I,
If you don’t come down those stairs,
Guess who’ll eat it, two fat hares!”
Durby’s mum wagged a paw at her babe. “Whurr you’m been, rascull? Oi’m out’n moi moind lukken furr ee.”
The molebabe crinkled his button nose at her cheekily. “Yurr, doan’t ee take on so, moi ole mum. Whurr be’s moi vikkles?”
The two friends had to stifle their laughter as the molemum seized her son and hauled him off to the tub. “You’m bain’t gettin’ vikkles until oi barth ee, Durby Furrel!”
“Woaw!” Durby wailed aloud, trying to reason with his mother. “Keep oi out’n ee warter or oi’ll be a-shrunkened. Woaw!”
Durby’s mum appealed to Fwirl and Mhera. “Missus, will ee tellen this choild ee warter woan’t shrink ’im?”
They helped the molemum to bathe Durby as they assured him, “No, no, water doesn’t shrink you. Look at me and Mhera, we both get lots of baths, and we haven’t shrunk, have we?”
Durby allowed them to bathe and dry him, then he waved all three imperiously aside and marched to the door lintel. “Oi’ll just be a-measurin’ oi t’see if’n oi shrinked!”
His mother measured him against the marks she had made to check his growth. She patted his head fondly. “Thurr thurr, choild, ee bain’t shrunken, ee growed summ, lookit!”
The molebabe eyed her suspiciously. “Oi ’opes you’m bain’t tellen ee fibs!”
*
Broggle was deep in conference with Brother Hoben, Gundil and Cregga when Mhera and Fwirl returned to the bedroom. Cregga held out her paws, and Gundil and Broggle heaved her out of her chair.
“Come on, let’s go down to dinner. I’ve had enough of puzzles and riddles for one day. Are you hungry, Fwirl?”
“I’m always hungry, the food’s so good at Redwall!”
“Ooh, my old bones!” Cregga complained as they negotiated the stairs. “Ah well, what a pity Abbess Song’s clue led us nowhere. Dearie me, they did give my room a good search, though. It’s feeling tidier than ever now, thanks to you two.”
Mhera allowed the Badgermum to lean upon her as they entered the dining room. “We’ll take another look tomorrow. Mmmm, smell that!”
Fwirl did. “Delicious! Wonder what it is?”
Cregga sniffed the air briefly. “What? You mean the damson and plum pudding Mhera’s mum is steaming off, or the hazelnut, mushroom and turnip casserole Friar Bobb’s taking from the oven, or the dandelion and burdock cordial Drogg Cellarhog is pouring from its barrel?”
Broggle seated Fwirl at the table, chuckling. “That Badgermum’s sense of smell is better than the eyesight of a dozen Redwallers. Oh, look out, here comes trouble!”
Boorab bounded up and struck an eloquent pose between the tables. “And now, my good creatures one an’ all, a delectable appetizer of the muse before we strap on the old nosebags, wot wot. A poem, composed by m’goodself. Pray attention for the official poet.
“I beg you listen to my verse, Ode to a damson plum pud,
’Tis not much better than it’s worse, in fact it’s jolly good!
Oh queen of puddens as ever was born, a gentle ottermum called Filorn,
Has made to grace our scoff this night, by steamin’ pot an’ oven light,
A pudden to tempt the hungriest tum,
Full of flour an’ honey an’ nuts an’ all sorts of gorgeous scrumptious an’ absolutely spiffin’ ingredients from the kitchens where she’s worked like a blinkin’ madbeast all day long . . . an’ of course from damson an’ plum!
Pass me a plate, an’ I’ll say it’s great!
Bung me a dish, an’ I’ll say what you wish!
Slip me a large platter, oh what does it matter!
Slide me a basin, with lots of space in!
Sling me a bowl, as deep as a hole!
Chuck me a pail, an’ I won’t wail!
As long as it’s full of what does a chap good,
Heroic hare-sized portions, of damson an’ plum pud!”
Boorab made a long and leggy bow, flourishing both ears and tail. In the silence that followed, he stalked majestically to his seat, but tripped and fell before he reached it. Midst laughter and applause he poked his head out from under the table and tried to silence them with a dignified glare.
“Perfect poetry’s wasted on you lot, bounders! Tchah, laughin’ at a chap’s misfortunes. Small things amuse small minds, my dear old mater used t’say. Some of you never grew up from bein’ blinkin’ Dibbuns if y’ask me, wot!”
“That’s it, that’s the answer!”
Everybeast turned to see what Mhera was shouting about. She smiled self-consciously. “Er, sorry, but something just dawned on me. It was hovering in my mind when Durby measured himself against the door lintel. It came to me fully when I heard what Mr. Boorab just said. Growing up, that’s the key. The ash tree has grown up since Abbess Song placed her monocle there. We were looking through the lens in the wrong place!”
Cregga started out of her seat. “Of course! Why didn’t we think of that earlier?”
Boorab was still sulking. “Huh, why indeed? ’Cos you were too busy titterin’ at a poor chap who’d just fallen an’ fractured his flippin’ tail, that’s why!”
Filorn began serving him a massive portion of damson and plum pud. “Poor Mr. Boorab, I never laughed at your fall. Thank you for the lovely poem you composed about my pudding. I think you deserve a double . . . no, a treble helping for your pains.”
The hare’s mood lightened considerably. “Gracious marm, you are truly a gem among otters, not like these other bucolic bumpkins. Er, excludin’ Miz Mhera, wot!”
Fwirl had been thinking of the next move. “As soon as it’s daylight tomorrow we’ll explore the wall below the window. Whatever it is that could be seen through the monocle back then should be lower down. Leave it to me. Let’s see if I’m as good a wallwhiffler as I am a treewhiffler. I’ll need a long thin cord and a heavy knife.” The squirrelmaid winked at her bemused companions. “Don’t ask me what I need them for. You’ll see tomorrow!”
*
Regaining consciousness was a slow and painful experience. Every time Tagg moved his head he was aware of the lump on the back of it, painful as a knife thrust. However, he could not reach a paw to touch it because he was bound securely. Somebeast was moving nearby. Tagg kept his eyes shut, listening as he tried to locate the position of the creature. The floor he was lying on shook frequently. Tagg groaned and rolled onto his side, facing away from where he reckoned the other beast was. He heard it move, felt its breath on the side of his face, then sensed it going back to its former position. Slowly, Tagg opened an eye, the one closest to the floor. It was night. He glimpsed the darkened foliage and realized that he was up in one of the alder trees, on a platform between two main branches, laid with boughs lashed securely together. It was open to the sky, having neither walls nor roof, only the foliage to shelter it.
“Stinkin’ scum-splattered vermin, kill ’em all!” The creature was talking not to him, but to itself. “Rotten slime, festerin’ spawn, don’t deserve t’live. Kill ’em!”
Tagg lay quite still, listening to the hoarse voice raving on.
“Dirty foul vermin, nothin’ on their minds but evil an’ death. Death, eh? I’ll show ’em death, I know a bit about that. Death!”
The creature began crawling toward him. Tagg lay quite still, the hairs on his nape prickling as it got nearer.
“Death, the best thing that can happen to vermin. Death, the slower the better. Make ’em suffer like I did. Yes, yes, oh yes!”
Tagg decided to make his move swiftly. As soon as he felt the other one’s breath close to his back he lashed out hard with both footpaws. The creature gasped sharply as Tagg’s bound footpaws kicked the breath out of it. Rolling over, Tagg pursued it across the narrow platform, still kicking out furiously, hoping to stun his captor. Whatever species the beast was, it was a tough creature, clawing and mauling him roughly. What was really odd was that it was talking and chuckling to itself as they tussled upon the platform.
“Hahaha! Death’s the thing for you, bully, good’n’slow, hahaha!”
Tagg saw its bared teeth flashing close to his eyes. Rearing his head back like a striking snake, he butted it hard, the impact of colliding heads almost stunning him. Then they both rolled off the platform, the strange beast’s claws locked into Tagg’s belt. He got a fleeting glimpse of leafy foliage rushing by as they plummeted earthward. Tagg twisted, his lightning reflexes putting him on top of his attacker. They struck the ground with a hard thud. Both lay completely stunned.
A long interval passed before Tagg stirred. The creature beneath him was still unconscious, though it was groaning and muttering through its stupor. He realized that his foe would soon regain its senses; he would have to work quickly to free himself. Tagg rolled off the beast, shaking himself until its claws came loose from his belt. The otter’s mind was racing, with one thing uppermost. His knife, where was it? An idea occurred to him. Using his footpaws he rolled the beast over, facedown. There was the blade, thrust into the back of his adversary’s belt. Tagg’s teeth closed around the handle, and with a mighty effort he tugged the knife free. The beast groaned and rolled over onto its back. It was coming slowly awake; there was no time to lose. Holding the knife point forward in his mouth, Tagg worked his head up and down, sawing away at the bonds on his paws, which were tied tightly in front of him. It did not take long. Sawney Rath’s blade could slice a leaf floating in the air. Keeping an eye on the fast-reviving beast, Tagg sliced through the thongs about his footpaws.
Still holding the knife in his teeth, Tagg massaged the life back into his limbs. The otter’s head was banging and he was sore all over from the fight. But he was alive. Sheltered from the moonlight, it was totally dark in the tree shadow. Tagg still did not know what type of creature he was up against. It was not quite his height, but much bulkier. Suddenly it sat bolt upright, laughing madly.
“Hahaha! So you stayed t’get yourself killed, eh?”
Tagg did a forceful twirl. His rudderlike tail thwacked hard, right across his opponent’s forehead, sending it down again. Like a flash he was upon it, straddling the creature’s chest, his blade across its throat. “Be still! Still, I say! Don’t move, or you’ll be the one who gets killed. Be still, I warn you!”
Two glittering eyes grinned wildly up at him. “Hahahaha! Kill me then, vermin. Go on, get it over with!”
Reversing the knife, Tagg thwacked his opponent between the eyes, stunning it again. Piecing together the thongs that had bound him, he tied an end around one of the beast’s paws. He dragged it upright and slammed it face forward against the nearest alder. Running the thong around the trunk, he tied it to the beast’s other paw and let it slump down into a sitting position, paws spread, embracing the tree it was bound to. Tagg staggered down to the water’s edge and lay flat in the shallows, letting the cold streamwater wash the aches from his body. Then, feeling refreshed, he went to where he had hidden his coracle and found the pack of supplies given him by the voles. Having eaten a few small cakes of oats and dried fruit, he drank some pear cordial and felt much better.
Tagg curled up in the coracle and dozed away the remaining night hours with his blade held ready. At dawn’s first light he strolled cautiously back up to the clearing. His prisoner was still there, bound to the tree, sitting with its forehead resting against the trunk, muttering away.
“Vermin won’t escape me, oh no, I’ll track him an’ bring him back an’ watch him die, nice an’ slow. Beggin’, pleadin’ an’ moanin’, just like all scum-mouthed vermin do.”
As Tagg got closer, he realized it was a squirrel, a big old strong female, clad in a tunic of what looked to be skins of weasels, rats and foxes. Tagg sat down in a spot where the squirrel could see him and spoke to her quietly.
“Why did you try to kill me? I’m not a vermin.”
She stared at him scathingly awhile, then answered, “Painted face, gold earring, eelskin belt, fancy patterned wristbands, an’ you tell me you’re no vermin. You even carry an assassin’s blade. Don’t tell me you ain’t a vermin. Go an’ take a look at yourself in a shady pool down by the stream. Go on, then come back here an’ tell me what you see . . . vermin!”
“Karrr, she be right, she be right, vermin you be!”
Drawing his blade, Tagg whirled around to face the eavesdropper. A large male bittern, practically invisible because of his brown, black and fawn plumage, came up from the riverbank reeds. Stalking gracefully along on thick green legs, he halted between Tagg and the squirrel, splaying his strong talons and poking a long needle-pointed beak in the otter’s direction.
“Kaburrrrr! You fool, not Botarus. I see verminbeasts, hunting the banks they be. On this stream, both sides. Kurrrrrr!”
Tagg nodded, knowing now that hunters had been sent after him. “How many of them? Where are they now?”
The black iris of the bittern’s umber eye widened. “Think you I be fool? I tell and you be calling them to you.”
The squirrel gave an insane chuckle. “Hahaha! Let him call ’em. You free me, Botarus, an’ I’ll kill ’em all, every murderin’ vermin mother’s son of ’em!”
Tagg stowed the knife in his belt. “The last thing I want to do is call them. I’m not a vermin, they’re the vermin. They’ve been sent to hunt me down and slay me!”
Botarus put his head on one side, the bright eye questioning. “You they hunt, these vermin? For why?”
Tagg did not want to go into the long story, so he made up an answer that was not far from the truth.
“I am an otter, see. I am not ferret, fox, rat, weasel or stoat. I was captured by them, and they tried to make me a vermin too. I escaped, and now they hate me and want to kill me.”
The bittern pondered Tagg’s answer before replying, “Krrrrrrum! Then why want you to kill my friend?”
Tagg pointed to the squirrel. “Her? I had no intention of killing her, she wanted to kill me! I was only protecting myself. That’s why I had to tie her up!”
Botarus looked at the squirrel and nodded toward Tagg. “Krrrror! Riverdog he be, truth I think he speaks!”
Tagg tapped his rudder impatiently on the grass. Drawing his blade, he slashed through the thong, freeing the squirrel. “There, is that good enough for you two?”
The squirrel bounded upright, pointing an accusing paw at him. “Then why d’you look an’ dress like a vermin, eh?”
Botarus held his position between both creatures. “Krrrrrrr! Told you that already the riverdog has. Where be you going on yonder volecraft?”
Tagg pointed north. “To the mountain.”
Botarus preened his chest feathers carefully. “Karrrrr. Go ye not by water in the volecraft. Ahead of you they be, the vermin. Seeing not your craft, passed by here yesterday they did. Here leave your craft. Overland go, sweep ’round west by north. To the path I will take you myself.”
Tagg bowed his head politely. “Thank you, Botarus. Wait, please, I’ll get my food.”
Tagg went back to the coracle and collected his stores, Botarus and the squirrel following him. The squirrel watched him shoulder his supply sack. “Give me the food. I want it!”
Tagg did not like the tone of his former foe’s voice. However, he emptied some food out onto the ground, adding a flask of drink. “Here is half of what I have. I need food for myself. You can take the coracle too, and if any vole asks you how you came by it, tell them it was a gift from me, Tagg.”
The squirrel inspected the boat as Tagg gathered up his cloak. He turned to see her brandishing the paddle.
“Your blade, it’s a good one, I’ll have that too!”
Botarus shot out his long leg and knocked the paddle out of the squirrel’s paws. He glared fiercely at her. “Enough you have, Madd. Stop you here now. With me Tagg goes, back I’ll be by eventide. Riverdog Tagg, come you!”
The otter gave a wary berth to the squirrel, who picked up the paddle and shook it at him.
“Hahaha! Come back this way sometime an’ visit me. So that I can kill you, vermin. Hahahahahaaaa!”
Tagg and Botarus made their way through the alders and into sparser woodlands. Tagg sighed with relief.
“Thank you, Botarus. I’m glad to be shut of that beast. I heard you call her Madd. Is that her name?”
The big bittern shrugged. “Mad she be, so Madd I call her. She knows not any other name.”
Tagg strode swiftly to keep pace with Botarus. “Madd is a good name for her. She’s a nasty dangerous beast.”
“Krrrror, so would you be, were you her,” Botarus commented dryly. “Killed her family, vermin did, for dead they left her. Three days lay she there. Found her I did, wound in her head, deep, so deep. Any otherbeast ’twould have killed outright. Together now we’ve been, long long seasons. Not easy to get along with is Madd.”
Tagg smiled at the bittern. “Then why do you stay with her?”
Botarus smiled back, the gleam in his eyes sudden and savage. “I like not the vermin either. As mad as her I am sometimes.”
Approaching midday they reached the limits of the woodlands. Tagg could see the mountain clearly slightly off to his right, still far off. Botarus pointed his beak out across the flatlands and outlined the route.
“Go you that way, ’twill keep ye clear o’ the stream and your enemies. Krrrr, watch you, Tagg, there be drylands an’ wetlands before foothills you reach. Live there many reptiles do, active in summer they be. Tread you careful an’ fare you well!”
Botarus went into an ungainly run, but once he took to the air there was nothing awkward about his graceful flight. He soared and wheeled to gain height, then flew off with a long cry. “Krrrrrrooooooooommmmmmm!”