The young hare snapped off a billet of pine from the charred trunk and blew gently upon it until the flame
rekindled itself. She looked closely at the still form of Lady Cregga, checking her carefully.
“Good news, sah! Though you wouldn’t think it to look at her. Lady Cregga’s alive, but Warfang must have
slashed an’ battered at her with his sword somethin’ dreadful. Her face, head, an’ eyes suffered terrible injuries, but as
I say, she lives!”
The Major winced as he straightened up. “Well, there’s a thing! Our Badger Lady must be jolly well made of iron.
Tammo, see if y’can hunt up stuff t’make a stretcher and find some able-bodied beasts to carry it. Tamtn, are you all
right, old lad?”
Tammo sat at the edge of the rift, his head in both paws, shaking and weeping uncontrollably. “No, I’m not all
right, sah. I’ve seen death! I’ve been in a battle, I’ve slain other creatures, seen friends cut down before my eyes, and
all I can think of is, thank the fates I’m not dead. Though the way I feel right now I don’t know if I want to go on
living!”
The Major sat down beside him, “I know what y’mean, young ’un, but think for a moment. Think of the babes at
Redwall and the oldsters, think of all the families, like your own, who will never be frightened or harmed by the bad
ones we fought against. You’ve done nothin’ t’be ashamed of. The Colonel an’ your mother would be proud to know
they had a son like you. What d’you say, Pasque? Tell this perilous feller.”
Pasque Valerian paused from her salves and dressings, capturing Tammo with her soft voice and gentle smile. She
pointed skyward. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Tamm. Just look up.”
Tammo felt the other three staring upward with him.
Fading from dark blue to light, dawn was breaking, with threads of crimson and gold radiating wide. Pale, cream-
washed clouds lay in rolls to the east, their undersides glowing pink with the rising of tfte sun. Somewhere a lark was
singing its ascension aria, backed by waking curlews on the moor, and wood pigeons in the copses.
The spell was broken abruptly as the little owl Taunoc swooped out of nowhere to land at the rift edge. “I see by
your returning warriors and the vermin carcasses lying everywhere that you won the battle.”
Perigord wiped his saber blade with a pawful of dewy grass. “Aye, we won!”
Taunoc nodded sagely, preening his wings, ready for flight. “I will carry the good news back to Redwall Abbey. Is
there anything else you wish me to add?”
Tamello De Fformelo Tussock dried his eyes and smiled. “Tell them ... tell them we’re coming home!”
54?
Extract from the writings of Craklyn the squirrel, Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower Country.
Healing the wounds of war takes a very long time. It is four seasons since the victorious warriors returned to us,
but still the memory of that terrible time is fresh in all our minds. When Lady Cregga was brought to our Abbey, we
feared greatly for her. She spoke little and ate even less, lying in the Infirmary with her whole head swathed in
bandages. Pasque Valerian and Sister Viola both knew Cregga would be blind, even before the bandages were
removed.
Alas, when we did unbandage her, the rose-colored eyes were no more. They had been replaced by tightly shut
eyelids. She no longer had the desire to slay, the Bloodwrath, they call it; all that was gone. Throughout the winter she
remained in an armchair by the fire in Cavern Hole.
It was pure accident that a miraculous change was wrought in her. One day the baby Russano got loose and
crawled off, and we found him perched in Lady Cregga’s lap, both badgers entirely happy. Since then she lives only to
rear and educate Russano. He is her eyes, and now that he can walk in a baby fashion, they are seen everywhere
together. Tammo reminded me of the second half of the rhyme Martin imparted to him:
One day Redwall a badger will see,
But the badger may never see Redwall,
Darkness will set the Warrior free,
The young must answer a mountain’s call.
After the battle, the Warriors buried the Rapscallions in the rift and our own on the ridgetop. When spring arrived,
they returned to the Ridge of a Thousand (for that is what it is known as now). Major Perigord took Lady Cregga’s big
axpike. Moles chiseled a hole into the top of the standing rock on the summit, and they cemented the axpike in it,
upright, with the old green homemade flag that bears me red letter R fluttering proudly from the piketop. There it will
stand until the winds of ages shred the banner and carry it away with them.
The moles are good stonemasons; they carved Pasque Valerian’s poem to the fallen on the rock.
Slumber through twilight, sleep through the dawn,
Bright in our memory from first light each morn,
Rest through the winter beneath the soft snow,
And in the springing, when bright blossoms show.
Warriors brave, who gave all you could give,
Offered your lives so that others would live.
No one can tell what my heart longed to say
When I had to leave here, and you had to stay.
Aye, there are memories that die hard and others that we want to keep forever. What courageous creatures they
were; as the Long Patrol would say, perilous!
I wish that little Russano would never grow up, but that is an idle and foolish thought. One day he will have to take
his place on that mountain far away on the west shores; he will be Lord of Salamandastron. Lady Cregga is certain of
this. He is a quiet youngster, but he seems to radiate confidence, understanding, and sympathy to all about him.
Already the hares call him Russano the Wise.
The owlchicks of Orocca and Taunoc are big birds now. My goodness, how quickly they grew and learned to fly!
They chose the names Nutwing, Nutbeak, and Nutclaw, because “nut” was the only word they spoke for a full season.
All three are fine birds, though not as well-spoken as their parents and inclined to be a bit impudent at times, but they
are still young.
I am the official keeper of the medals, did you know that? I’ll tell you about it. The treasure we brought up from
sunken Castle Kotir was melted down by order of my good friend Abbess Tansy. She decreed that a solid gold medal,
each set with a separate gem, would be made for everybeast who fought at the Ridge of a Thousand. Redwallers get a
ruby, Waterhogs and otters a pearl, shrews a peridot, and hares a blue John, every one set in a small gold shield
attached to a white silken ribbon. But I am left in charge of them all because they will not wear them to work!
What work, did I hear you say? Why, the rebuilding of our south wall, of course. Major Perigord, Skipper, Log-a-
Log, Gurgan Spearback, and our own Arven all agreed that they cannot abide idle paws. So we have a veritable army
working on the south wall, filling holes, tamping down earth, and relaying the massive red sandstone blocks. It will
soon be completed, and then there will be double reason, nay treble, for festivities. One for the new wall, and two to
celebrate the lives of those lost in the battle last summer. The third reason is so exciting that I can scarce bring myself
to write about it.
Tammo and Pasque are to be wedded!
It’s true! Taunoc flew off some time back to bring Tammo’s family from Camp Tussock to attend the celebrations.
Mem Divinia was very proud of her son, and even old Colonel Cornspurrey had to admit that his son was a true Long
Patrol warrior. Abbess Tansy saved enough gold and three beautiful emeralds to make a paw bracelet for Pasque. She