Mhera stood in the Abbey doorway with Cregga. Redwallers crowded behind them, ordered to stay inside. Brother Hoben uttered what Mhera was thinking.

“Look at those stones. Two vermin couldn’t do that alone. I’m afraid Fwirl made a mistake when she said there were only two.”

Cregga leaned on the doorpost, stroking her striped muzzle. “So it seems. How many would you guess there were out there?”

The good Brother shrugged. “Who knows, marm? Certainly more than we first thought.”

Mhera made her way to the broken window and climbed onto the redstone sill, gazing out to where the slingstones battered down constantly onto the Abbey lawn. She noticed that they followed a certain pattern, all falling around one central area, apart from the odd long throw, or occasional short casts that landed on the gatehouse path. Gundil peeped over her shoulder, his homely face anxious as he guessed her intent.

“You’m bain’t a goen owt thurr, mizzy? They’m slingenrocks wudd crack ee skullbones. Stop ee in yurr wi’ us’n’s, noice’n’safe.”

The ottermaid shook her head. Her mind was made up. “I’ve got to go out and speak to them, Gundil. We must find out what a Taggerung is. This state of affairs cannot continue; it’s only a matter of time before some Redwaller is slain. Even vermin must realize that they’ve got to communicate with us at some point, if only to clear the whole matter up.”

Gundil raised his digging claws in despair. “Ho, lackeeday, bain’t no use a talken to ee, miz, oi’m bounden to go owt thurr with ee!”

“And so am I. That makes three of us!”

“Beggin’ y’pardon, marm, but as jolly old rankin’ officer I’m comin’ too, so that makes four, wot!”

Mhera had not noticed Cregga and Egburt below on the floor. She climbed down from the windowsill. “There’s no need for you to put yourself in danger.”

Cregga reared to her full height, which was considerable. “You seem to forget, Mhera, I am acting Abbess in charge. I would be neglecting my duty if I let you go out there alone.”

Gundil reared to his full height, which was not much at all. “Hurr, an’ oi’d be agglectin’ moi dooty to ee. You’m moi friend!”

Mhera patted his velvety head, forestalling Egburt. “Don’t tell me. You’d be neglecting your duty as Wallguard Commander if you didn’t accompany me. So we’ll all go together, my good friends. Thank you for your support.”

By now more Redwallers were gathering in Great Hall, and Mhera and Cregga had to fend off their curious inquiries.

“Egburt said you’re going out to talk with the vermin?”

The badger nodded. “Yes, Friar, though I wish he’d kept quiet about it.”

“D’you need any help out there, Cregga marm?”

“None, thank you. We’re going to parley, not to fight.”

Broggle, Hoarg and Drogg were holding a whispered meeting.

“You tell her about our prisoner, Drogg, go on.”

“Who, me? I’m not much good at explainin’. You tell ’er, Hoarg.”

“Tell who, Mhera or Cregga?”

“Either one’ll do. Tell Mhera, she ain’t as fierce as Cregga, go on!”

“Er, I wouldn’t know what t’say. I think young Broggle should do all the talkin’. ’Twas his idea in the first place.”

Sister Alkanet was wearing Cregga’s patience thin. “That Fwirl, already she wants to get up. Will you come and tell her she must remain in bed until I say!”

Cregga distractedly released a Dibbun who was clinging to her. “Sister, leave Fwirl alone if she feels well enough to get up!”

Friar Bobb sounded a touch officious as he cornered Mhera. “Will you be back for lunch, miz? Shall I serve it in Cregga’s room for you both, or will you eat in the dining room?”

Mhera already had her paw on the latch of the Abbey door. She looked pleadingly at the Friar. “Yes. I mean no. We’ll be back shortly, I hope. We’ll take lunch in the dining room like everybeast; don’t go to any trouble on our behalf, Friar. Now we really must go out there!”

Hoarg and Drogg pushed Broggle forward. In the stress of the moment, his old stammer returned. “Er, er, M-Miz M-Mhera . . .”

She whirled on him rather sharply. “Now what is it?”

Broggle stared guiltily at the floor.

“I . . . I w-wanted t-to . . .”

Mhera’s patience was close to the breaking point when she caught Filorn watching her. The ottermum smiled and shook her head. Mhera bit her lip, and patted Broggle’s back gently.

“Forgive me, Broggle. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind too. Yes, you can go up and visit Fwirl whenever you like, tell Sister Alkanet I said so. You two have a nice time. G’bye now.” She kissed Broggle’s cheek and threw the door open. “Gundil, Egburt, help our Badgermum, come on. We’ll go along the walltops; there’s no stones falling there. Keep low, though!”

The door slammed and they were gone.

*

Gruven, Dagrab and Rawback were paw weary, but Eefera and Vallug would not allow them to stop slinging. Eefera flicked at them smartingly with a whippy twig. “Cummon, put yer backs into it! Sling those stones ’arder!”

Vallug cupped both paws around his mouth and bellowed, “Yer under siege! Give us the Taggerung!”

Nimbalo pulled a face of comic despair. “Under siege? Haha, that’s a good ’un. They couldn’t ’it a pond if they was standin’ in it, the picklepawed oafs!”

Eefera slashed at him with the whippy twig. “Shut yer mouth, you, or I’ll cut yer tongue out!”

Nimbalo grinned crookedly at Vallug, a long welt on his face causing him to squint. “Ain’t yore pal the tough ’un? ’E’s very good at beatin’ bound up prisoners. Wonder if’n ’e’d like to try it with me paws free, eh?”

Vallug grabbed the harvest mouse and heaved him bodily out of the ditch onto the path in front of the Abbey’s main wallgate. “Think yore safe in there, don’t ye?” he shouted out to anybeast who was listening inside. “Well, lissen t’this. We’ve got one of yore mice ’ere, a prisoner. Name o’ Nimbalo the Slayer. If’n ye don’t give us the Taggerung then Nimbalo’s goin’ to die, nice an’ slow. So make yore minds up!”

*

Sister Alkanet fixed Broggle with an icy stare. “Well, Broggle, I’m surprised at you. Oh, I heard it all. Sneaking and speaking to Mhera behind my back like that. If you wanted to visit Fwirl, you only had to ask me. I’m just trying to do my best by her so she’ll get well soon. It wasn’t very nice of you to go over my head like that!”

Broggle was amazed at the Sister’s accusation. “I never went behind your back, Sister. I wasn’t even talking about Fwirl, it was Mhera’s idea for me to visit anytime. I wanted to tell her something entirely different. Honestly I did!”

Alkanet narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me the truth?”

Drogg spoke up in his friend’s defense. “Of course he is. Broggle was tryin’ to tell Mhera about the prisoner we took, him’n’me an’ ole Hoarg.”

Alkanet folded her paws, turning the frozen stare on Drogg. “Prisoner, what prisoner? You’d better tell me everything!”

*

Tagg’s paws were throbbing from banging on the door, and he had shouted himself hoarse. He leaned against the big barrel, contemplating turning it on its side and rolling it hard at the door, but he soon realized it was a foolish idea. The room area was too small for rolling a barrel of its size with sufficient speed to damage the stout wood. Then he heard pawsteps. A short silence, followed by voices.

“A big vermin, you say?”

“Aye, Sister, big strong-lookin’ rascal with a faceful of tattoos that’d frighten the life out of ye!”

“Hmm. And you knocked him out with a mallet and axe handles, then locked him up down here. Why didn’t you tell anybeast?”

“We were waiting for the right moment, Sister. I was trying to tell Mhera and Cregga about it when they dashed off.”

“I see. What type of vermin is this creature? Is it armed?”

“Er, I dunno. I’ve never seen many vermin. ’Spect they all look the same, savage an’ murderous. He wasn’t carryin’ any kind o’ weapon, but he had a big heavy tail, like an otter’s rudder. But I’ve heard o’ weasels an’ stoats that had hefty tails. Remember what we learned at Abbey School about that rat, Cluny the Scourge? Didn’t he have a big heavy tail?”

Tagg listened intently to the speculation going back and forth. If he had been branded as a vermin, it might make matters worse if he began shouting. They could be frightened off. He decided to hold his silence until somebeast addressed him directly.

*

Nimbalo lay on his back, shutting his eyes against the sun. He felt furtively around the path until his tightly tied paws encountered what he had hoped to find. A sharp-edged piece of stone, not very big, but sufficient to his needs. Keeping his body as still as possible, he curled both paws inward. Then, gripping the stone securely, he began rubbing the broken edge against his bonds, hoping the vermin would not notice.

Eefera took Gruven’s sword and leaned over the ditch’s edge to lay it against Nimbalo’s ear. “Wot’s the matter with ye all in there?” he called out. “Don’t ye care about yore liddle friend Nimbalo? Come an’ see if yer don’t believe us. Come on, ye lily-livered craven, we won’t sling or fire arrows, ye’ve got my word on it!”

Cregga and Mhera lay flat beneath the threshold battlements, flanked by Gundil and Egburt. “What d’you think?” Mhera whispered to the Badgermum. “You know more about vermin than us.”

Cregga placed a cautionary paw upon Mhera’s shoulder. “Don’t trust them, that’s the first rule I learned about vermin. I don’t know who this Nimbalo creature is, but it may be a trap, so here’s what we’ll do. Gundil and Egburt, you go back into the Abbey. Tell Drogg and any other able-bodied beasts to arm themselves and come up to the gate. They should be safe enough now the slinging has stopped. If the vermin have got a mouse prisoner, we might get the chance to open the doors quickly, dash out there and rescue him. But tell Drogg to stay by the gate, quietly, until I give the word. Go now.”

Eefera’s voice sang out from the ditch. “Pore liddle Nimbalo. I wouldn’t like to be ’im, if’n one of youse in there doesn’t make some kinda move soon. Hahahaha!”

Cregga gave her instructions to Mhera. “I’m going to stand up in plain view. I know how to parley with those scum. You stay low, just so you can see over the wall; that way you can let me know what’s going on. Now don’t argue, pretty one, do as I say.”

Mhera pressed the badger’s big paw to her cheek. “All right, but please be careful. You’re our only Badgermum!”

*

Sister Alkanet tapped lightly upon the storeroom door and spoke in her no-nonsense voice.

“Listen to me, vermin, I want straight and truthful answers, or you can stay locked up in there until you perish. Understood?”

She was surprised that the answering voice was not a gruff snarl but a level and reasonable-sounding baritone. “I understand. What do you want to know?”

“What do you and your friends want at Redwall Abbey?”

“There are five vermin outside. They are not my friends, they are my enemies. I am not a vermin, I’m an otter.”

Old Hoarg stamped his footpaw and chuckled. “Heehee, I knowed he was an otter, moment I set eyes on him!” He wilted into silence under Alkanet’s skeptical stare. She continued.

“They say you have a tattooed face, like the two vermin one of our creatures saw in Mossflower Wood. Why is that?”

Tagg stood with his forehead against the door. He shrugged. “It’s a very very long story, if you have the time to listen. Let me ask you a question, marm. Have you seen a harvest mouse lately? His name is Nimbalo the Slayer.”

The Sister’s severe voice left him in no doubt. “No, we have not! I’m asking the questions, otter, if that’s what you are. Do you have a name? What is it?”

“You can call me Tagg. It’s what I’ve been known as for as long as I can remember.” The silence that followed was so long that Tagg asked, “What’s the matter, marm? Don’t you believe me? My name’s Tagg!”

This time the Sister’s voice sounded a little shrill. “Tagg? Is that short for something? What’s your full name? The truth now, I want no lies!”

“Zann Juskarath Taggerung!”

Four voices echoed the last word. “Taggerung!”

Egburt came hurtling into the cellar at that precise moment. Forgetting all his hare impressions, he cried, “Brull said she saw you go down here. Quick, Drogg, an’ you too, Broggle an’ Hoarg! We’re all needed up at the front gate. The vermin have captured a mouse an’ they’re goin’ to kill him!”

Tagg banged upon the cellar door and shouted, “This mouse, d’you know his name?”

Egburt gaped at the door, wide-eyed. “Nimbalo the Slayer they said his name is. Why?”

Suddenly the door shook as the otter smashed his body against it. “Let me out of here, d’you hear me? I must get out! I won’t harm anyone, I swear it! I’ve got to save my friend! It’s me the vermin want, me, the Taggerung of the Juska!”

Sister Alkanet shook her head stubbornly. “We’ll have to report this to the elders for a counselors’ meeting. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay locked up until they decide.”

It was then that Broggle did something totally unexpected. He pushed the Sister to one side and heaved the bolts back. “Then go and save your friend. Hurry, Taggerung!”

*

Cregga stood up in full view of the vermin. “We have no mouse here named Nimbalo, but if you are holding him prisoner I beg you not to harm him!”

Vallug rose, an arrow notched full stretch on his bow. “Yore not in any position to make demands of us, stripedog. We’ll chop this ’ere mouse inter fishbait if’n yer don’t give up the Taggerung!”

Mhera peeped over the battlements and saw the five tattooed vermin and Nimbalo lying bound on the path. Cregga spread her paws. “I don’t understand what you mean. There is no such thing as a Taggerung in our Abbey. How can we give what we don’t have?”

Eefera whispered to Vallug as he watched the badger’s face. “That ole stripedog’s blind. See, she’s lookin’ right past us at the flatlands be’ind. I tell yer, she’s blinder’n a stone!”

Vallug laughed scornfully at the old blind badger. “Hohoho, ’ow d’you know you ain’t got a Taggerung in there? You couldn’t see yer paw in front of ye, y’ole fool!”

Cregga could feel anger coursing through her veins. “Listen, you thickbrained scum, it’s you who’s the fool. You can stand out there shouting for a Taggerung until you’re blue in the face. We haven’t got a Taggerung and we don’t even know what a Taggerung is. So use what little brain you have and tell us, what in the name of all seasons is a Taggerung, eh?”

Nimbalo sawed through the last of his bonds and burst loose. Bloodlust shone from his eyes as he leaped for the battle-axe sticking up over the ditch’s edge. “Death t’the vermin!” he roared.

He grabbed the axehead. The shaft went sideways and struck Vallug on the elbow, and he released the arrow instinctively. Cregga stood stock still, the shaft buried in her chest. Mhera leapt up, screaming.

*

Tagg came up the stairs like a thunderbolt. Dashing through Cavern Hole, he collided with an ottermum. Stopping momentarily, he held her steady by the paw. “Sorry, marm!” Then he was off up the stairs into Great Hall, leaving Filorn looking as if she had seen a ghost. As he bounded through the Great Hall toward the Abbey door, the otter’s eyes flicked left and right, looking for a weapon. He saw the warrior mouse on a huge wall tapestry. Perched above it on two silver spikes, Martin’s sword shone like fire on ice. There was no time to stop. Bounding forward, Tagg gave a mighty leap. He snatched the sword and sped out of the door.

Brother Hoben was already at the gate. He saw the big painted otter charging toward him, shouldering Redwallers aside as he came. Broggle was dashing to keep up with Tagg, waving his paws at Hoben, yelling, “Open the gates, Brother! Let him through, open the gates!”

Hoben kicked the wooden bar up and threw open Redwall’s gates. Like lightning the otter charged past him, whirling the sword, his voice roaring like thunder upon the wind.

“Vallug Bowbeast, ’tis death to you! I am Taggerung Juskaaaaaa!”

Vallug already had another arrow on his taut bowstring. He let fly at Tagg. The shaft buried itself in the otter’s chest, but he kept coming, his mighty wrath unstoppable. Vallug was reaching for another arrow when the great sword flashed downward. Tagg’s shout was the last thing the ferret heard in his life.

“For my father!”

Vallug’s body remained standing; his head thudded into the ditch, alongside the severed bow. Eefera was up out of the ditch, running across the flatlands. Tagg spanned the ditch in a bound and went after him. Dagrab fled south along the ditchbed, with Nimbalo hard on her heels wielding the battle-axe. Gruven snatched up his fallen sword and ran, terror coursing through him. He ran as he had never run before, north up the ditchbed, away from the melee. Rawback paused, but only for an instant, before he chased after Gruven. As soon as the woodlands came into view on his right, Gruven left the ditch and scrambled into the tree cover, with Rawback in his wake. Together they hurried north, following the woodland fringe until more tree cover appeared on the west side. Recrossing the path hastily, the two stoats stumbled through the ditch and entered Mossflower’s west thicknesses, Rawback some way behind as they struck inward. When he ran out of breath Gruven halted. The ground beneath his paws was soft, and immediately he began sinking. With his final effort he pulled himself clear and found dry ground. When Rawback came staggering and panting along, Gruven leaned against a tree, puffing, and waved him on.

“That way, mate. I’ll catch me breath an’ wait ’ere awhile to stop anybeast followin’ us. You go on, I’ll catch ye up.”

Rawback plowed wearily on. Gruven waited until he heard the terror-stricken screams from the swampland, and then he sat down until he regained enough breath to carry on. When the screaming had stopped, Gruven felt quite recovered. He cut off around the swamp edges, chuckling to himself.

“Dead, all dead an’ gone, only me left. Gruven Zann Juskazann!”