Then she was sitting on her mother's lap, on the old wheelbarrow in the orchard. Deyna, the little brother she had lost many long seasons ago, was beside her. Filorn looked radiant, young and beautiful, happy as any ottermum with her young ones. Mhera stopped tossing and turning in her sleep. She lay still and contented, listening to her mama sing.
"Bells o'er the woodland
Sound sweet and so clear,
They peal across meadows and streams.
Small birds sing along,
Hear their echoing song,
Whilst bees hum about their small dreams.
So slumber on, little one,
Safe here with me,
All in the warm afternoon.
When the long day is done
And deep night's shade is come
I will bring you the stars and the moon!"
Chapter 28
Tagg woke up scratching. He was itching all over. Still with his eyes half closed, he wiggled a paw in his ear and spat out something that was wandering over his lip. Nimbalo was sitting by the fire, cooking breakfast, his fur plastered wetly against him. He watched the otter scratching madly and shrugged apologetically.
"Sorry, mate. It was dark, 'ow could I tell I'd picked a campsite right inna middle of a bloomin' ant trail? Pond's over there."
Tagg tore past him and did a bounding dive into the still waters of a small lake, ignoring Nimbalo's shout of "Wouldn't mind a perch or a fat ole trout fer brekkist, mate!"
Swimming powerfully, Tagg crossed and recrossed the waters, and then he sped back to the lake's center and dived. It felt so good that he frisked about like an otterbabe, performing underwater somersaults and chasing his rudder playfully. Nimbalo left off cooking to gaze on the unbroken sheet of lake surface, muttering to himself as he waited for his friend to surface.
"C'mon, you ole riverdog, this scoff'll be cold if'n ye stay down there all day!"
Breaking the surface on the far side of the lake, Tagg leaped out shaking himself, then bent down and was lost to sight. Nimbalo snorted impatiently, shouting as he went back to cooking, "Wot's goin' on over there, matey? Found more ants t'play with?"
Tagg came bounding back with his tunic slung over one shoulder. He spilled the contents out in front of Nimbalo. "Look, button mushrooms and cress. I found them growing over there. Anything nice to eat? I'm starving!"
Nimbalo served the food, chuckling. "Pancakes an' honey an' pear cordial, but don't tell the ants!"
Tagg smiled ruefully at the thought of the insects. "You little puddenhead, fancy picking a camp in an ant run!"
Nimbalo shuddered and wriggled. "Ugh! I really earned me title durin' the night, mate. I must've slayed about two 'undred ants every time I rolled over!"
The cress was sweet and fresh, and the mushrooms had a wonderful nutty flavor. They finished breakfast by eating as many as they could.
After breaking camp, the two friends headed into the woodlands, still following the vermin tracks. It was a golden morning, with vagrant breezes chasing small fluffy clouds across a soft blue sky. A vague excitement was stirring in Tagg's mind. He did not recognize the country, yet it felt friendly. He stopped for a moment and leaned against an ancient hornbeam.
"Nimbalo, have you ever had the feeling that you know a place, yet you haven't been there before? I mean ..."
The harvest mouse nodded confidently. “I know wot y'mean, Tagg, though 'tis 'ard to explain. I used t'make a rhyme about it when I was rovin' the flatlands. Lissen.
"There's many's the patch that I ain't trod,
Nor ever been before there,
An' yet it seems as close to me,
As some ole coat I've wore, sir.
Some streams'n'rivers, rocks'n'fields,
That I have come upon, sir,
I'm seein' them for my first time,
Yet I knows every one there.
Now was I here ten seasons back,
Did I sit 'neath that tree there,
An' if I pass this way agin,
Then will I meet meself, sir?"
The harvest mouse had saved a few mushrooms. He tossed one up and caught it deftly in his mouth. "Y'see wot I mean?"
He tossed another mushroom up. Tagg nudged him out of the way and caught it in his mouth. "Aye, it's as clear as porridge on a winter's morn. Nimbalo!" The harvest mouse had suddenly rushed ahead. "Come back here. What is it?"
Dodging between the trees, Nimbalo was pointing upward. "Look, mate! Look!"
There in the distance was Redwall Abbey, the morning sun reflecting off its old red sandstone bulk, rearing into the sky.
Within a short distance of the outer walls Tagg and Nimbalo halted, breathless at the sight of the colossal Abbey up close. Nimbalo strained his head back, staring up at it.
"Great seasons o' swamps'n'streams, ants never built that lot, mate!"
Tagg could hardly believe his eyes. It was a dream coming true. "I'm getting that funny feeling again, mate!"
Nimbalo reminded him of their mission. "Let's git outta the way for a bit an' figger out wot we're goin' t'do. Get be'ind these bushes, Tagg."
The otter came back to reality. He took his friend's wise counsel and ducked down behind a coppiced hazel bush. "You're right, we can't go marching up and banging on their door. Nobeast in there would know us. Then there's the vermin, five of them if the tracks are to be believed. We could be ambushed by them as we stood gawking at that place. So, what's the plan, Nimbalo?"
His friend made a calming gesture with both paws. "We takes it slow'n'easy at first. This is the way I sees it. We'll split up an' take different ways, keep t'the trees, not let ourselves be seen. I'll meet ye back 'ere in the late noon. If one of us makes contact with anybeast inside an' gets hisself welcomed in then we're both all right. But keep yore eyes peeled for those vermin. If y'see them, don't go mad an' start slayin' the villains, an' I won't either. When we meets back 'ere, then we'll make another plan an' set up an ambush on them. Right?"
Tagg took Nimbalo's paw and shook it. "Right. Good plan, mate. Oh, here, you take my blade."
The harvest mouse was puzzled. "Why's that?"
Tagg did not want Nimbalo to be unarmed if he met the vermin, but to save his friend's pride he gave another reason, one that was just as valid. "It won't matter so much if the Abbeybeasts see a harvest mouse with a knife, but a big otter like me, with a tattooed face, if they see me carrying a weapon, what then, eh?"
Nimbalo thrust the blade through his belt. It looked like a sword on his tiny frame. "Yore right, mate. Hmm, this is a nice blade. I could get used to it. Jus' the sort o' thing Nimbalo the Slayer needs."
They split up, Tagg taking the east wall going south, Nimbalo going in the opposite direction.
Egburt came dashing into the Great Hall, colliding with Mhera and Cregga, who were going to the infirmary to visit Fwirl. The Badgermum leaned on Mhera as she halted the hedgehog in his tracks.
"Whoa there, speedy, where are you off to in such a hurry?"
Egburt thrust a wooden serving tray into Mhera's paws. "Its Mr. Boorab, he's gone. See for y'self, miz!"
Cregga tapped the tray impatiently. "Gone? Where's he gone and what's that thing? Tell me, Mhera!"
The ottermaid studied the tray briefly before replying. "It's a serving tray. Boorab has written a message on it with a charcoal stick. Listen. 'Dear chums'n'chaps, gone to get help from Skipper and co. Dashed silly but brave I know. Don't go weeping and wailing for me, only if I don't make it back, then I hope you'll bawl your bonces off for a blinkin' season, wot. Tell Filorn to start cookin' now, yours truly will be rather peckish on his return. Also, if one knows there's stacks of grub waitin', then one will try one's hardest to return. Rather! Regards to all, keep a light burnin' in the jolly old window. Yr faithful probationary music master and Guard Commander, Bellscut Oglecrop Obrathon Ragglewaithe Audube Baggscut. PS. Tell Drogg to keep my haredee gurdee well greased. PPS. Tell miss Fwirl to refuse any physicks if she wants to live. PPPS. I hope old Hoarg's bucket recovers from that arrow (haha). Only joking, got to go, chin up, chest out, wot!'"