Tears streamed down Broggle's face as he arrived on the scene. "What would anybeast want to slay old Hoarg for? He never hurt a living thing in all his life!"
Boorab swiftly pushed Broggle's head below the parapet. "You'll be next if y'don't keep your bally head down, laddie buck. Stow the tears, he ain't hit that bad, wot!"
The ancient dormouse had been wearing an old copper bucket as a helmet, with the handle under his chin. Vallug's arrow was stuck tight in the side of the bucket, having pierced it. Fwirl came bounding up and peered under the bucket, which was set firmly on the stunned Gatekeeper's head.
"Don't try to remove the arrow or take the bucket off Hoarg's head. The shaft's gone through his ear."
Tucking the ladle tight against his side, Boorab issued more orders. "Listen up in the ranks there, chaps, sound the alarm bells, two stretcher bearers up here on the double, carry this poor fellow up to Sister Alkanet's infirmary. Steady on now, those carrying slings, load 'em up an' wait on my command. When I give the word, heads up, pepper the ditch below the threshold with one good volley, then heads down smartly, an' keep 'em down! Ready . . . slings!"
A sharp rain of pebbles battered the ditch where Vallug and Eefera had been. Two moles hoisted Hoarg between them and carried him down the wallsteps. His eyes opened as he was hustled down, and he groaned woefully.
"Owwww, my pore ear! Wot hit me? Where are ye takin' me?"
"Hurr, you'm be'd shot in ee bucket, zurr. Us'n's be's takin' ee to yon affirmery. Doan't ee wurry, Sister h'Alkurnet'll fizzick ee gudd, you'm feel gurtly well agin then, hurr hurr!"
Hoarg's voice echoed around the bucket as it tipped forward over his eyes. "If I'd knowed I was goin' to be dragged off an' physicked by that ole mouse, I'd have let the vermin kill me!"
In the absence of kitchen staff, who were part of Boorab's wallguard, Mhera and Gundil helped Filorn and Friar Bobb to make the supper. Between them they made cabbage and fennel bake into pasties, which they parceled up with table linen, placing the raspberry cream turnovers on trays and filling a clean pail with dandelion cordial. Filorn helped Mhera to load up a trolley to take out to the wallguards.
As she worked, the ottermaid kept reciting to herself, "Hittagall Pittagall Wittagall! Hittagall Pittagall Wittagall!"
Filorn looked oddly at her daughter. "What in the name of rudders are you talking about?"
Mhera placed a final tray of turnovers on the trolley. "I wish I knew, Mama. It's the three words from the three strips of cloth. Hittagall, Pittagall and Wittagall. I just keep on repeating them to myself in the hope that they'll suddenly make sense. Trouble is, they don't."
Filorn lowered her voice confidentially. "Then stop saying them or you'll have everybeast saying that you're acting like a Dibbun. Cregga and Hoben have given you a lot of responsibility, and the elders will look to you for guidance. Until this vermin trouble is over, you'd do well to abandon any puzzles and riddles. Don't you realize, Mhera, you are practically in charge of Redwall Abbey for the moment!"
Before Mhera could reply, the irrepressible Boorab came marching in, his nose atwitch at the smell of food.
"What's that? In charge of Redwall Abbey, young feller m'gel? Aha, well you may be, but yours truly is in charge an' command of the defenses, wot. Jolly old outer wall and all who flippin' well patrol it. Responsibility's m'middle name, doncha know!"
Mhera rapped the hare's paw, which was straying dangerously close to the array of raspberry cream turnovers. "Then why aren't you out there carrying out your duties? The kitchen is no place for a commanding officer."
Boorab swaggered over to Filorn, who had always been sympathetic to him, and gave her his best stiff-upper-lip smile. "Very observant of your beautiful daughter, marm. Everything's hunky-dory out on the ramparts, no vermin showin' their lousebound features about, all quiet an' orderly y'might say. Thought I'd take the opportunity of poppin' in to check up on rations for the troops. One owes it t'the lower-rank chaps, y'know, officer has to feed the faces under his command. Me bounden duty, y'see!"
Filorn curtsied to the hare and presented him with a turnover. "I understand, sir. Perhaps you'd like to sample one of these, to make sure 'tis of the right quality for your wallguards?"
Mhera watched in amazement as the turnover vanished into the gluttonous hare's mouth. Licking his paws, Boorab closed both eyes and smacked his lips appreciatively. "First class, ladies, absoballylutely top hole, wot. A and B the C of D, I'd say. Let me help you take the jolly trolley to my starvin' companions freezin' away the bitter night hours on the rugged ramparts, wot!" He trundled the cart off, with Mhera and Filorn hurrying behind.
"You shouldn't encourage him, Mama," Mhera whispered disapprovingly. "Starving companions freezing away the bitter night? It's hardly a long while since they were last fed, and it's a warm summer night without even a breeze!"
Filorn watched the odd lanky figure hurrying across the lawn, taking great care not to spill any food from the trolley. "Don't be too hard on Boorab. His heart's in the right place and he's always been very gallant and polite to me."
Mhera linked paws with her mother as they followed the trolley. "You're too softhearted by far. Oh, and what does Boorab mean by A and B the C of D? Sounds like some kind of code."
"I asked him once. He said it's some old military saying," Filorn explained. "The first letters of the phrase above and beyond the call of duty. A and B the C of D. Apparently his grandsire learned it, when he served with a group of hares called the Long Patrol."
When they reached the wallsteps, Foremole Brull detailed six of her moles to carry the trolley up to the battlements. Mhera had always admired the friendly mole leader, and she stroked Brull's velvety paw affectionately.
"Thank you, marm. I was wondering how we'd get a loaded trolley up there."
Brull had a smile so jolly, it seemed to light up the night. "Doan't ee wurry, miz. They'm h'only likkle, but them'm axeedingly moighty. Ho, boi the way, do ee be's cleckin' likkle piecings o' ee greeny cloth?"
Mhera felt her curiosity aroused. "Yes, I am collecting little pieces of cloth. Have you got one?"
Brull produced the object from inside her sleeve. "Oi foinded this 'un stucked to ee bakklement summ whoile agoo."
It was a green homespun strip, still smelling faintly of lilac. Mhera read the writing on it. UITTAGALL.
"Be's et h'any gudd to ee, miz?"
Mhera blinked absentmindedly. "What? Oh, er, yes. Thank you very much, Brull."
Brull helped Filorn to serve the food as they trundled the trolley around the ramparts. Filorn looked down to the gatehouse wallsteps, where her daughter was sitting studying something. "I thought Mhera was going to help us serve? What's she doing sitting down there in the dark?"
Foremole Brull busied herself with the cabbage and fennel pasties. "Ho, leave urr be, missus, she'm lukkin' at one o' ee ole greeny cloths oi foinded oop yurr."
From out of nowhere, Fwirl landed at Mhera's side. She peered over the ottermaid's shoulder. "Found another of your cloth puzzles, eh?"
Mhera shook the fabric under Fwirls nose. "Foremole Brull found it not long ago, stuck to a battlement. It says UITTAGALL. Now I've got four cloths and I don't know what even one of them means. But there's an even greater puzzle, Fwirl. This cloth couldn't have stayed stuck to a battlement all those seasons since Abbess Song was alive. It would have rotted or blown away ages ago. The riddle may be an ancient and mysterious one, but I've been thinking hard about it and I've come up with something. Listen to this. The first two pieces we found could have lain there since the time of Abbess Song. One was inside the bell tower, high and dry on the beam, the other was part of an infirmary coverlet. However, look at these last two scraps of cloth. One was found by Cregga, out in the open by the east wallgate, the other was found by Brull up on the walltop, again out in the open. Neither of the outside cloths could have survived the sun, winds, snow, ice and rains of many seasons. So what does that tell us, my friend?"