"I see. Then you found our tracks and followed them. Tell me, why did you not notice the traces of us breaking camp when you first arrived there?"
"Oh, that," Gruven explained hastily, the food and drink forgotten as he cursed himself inwardly for his silly mistake. "Well, er, I was tracking a Taggerung, a dangerous and savage beast. I wasn't looking for other trails. Would you?"
Ruggan Bor slowly poured himself wine, mingling it with water. "Hmm, I see, that makes sense. Finish eating, we have to go."
Gruven wiped a paw across his lips, taken by surprise. "Go? Where to?"
The fox's eyes stared at him over the goblet rim. "To the old camp, of course. We must find the Taggerung's head. If you have spoken the truth, you have done what no other warrior alive has ever done. Slain a Taggerung. Have you eaten enough?"
The food turned to ashes in Gruven's mouth. He could only nod.
Leaving a few Juska vermin to guard the tents, Ruggan Bor set off north into the fading mists. Gruven walked slightly behind him, surrounded by six hefty Juskabeasts. Close to three hundred armed vermin accompanied them.
Chapter 34
It was the most glorious of autumn mornings at Redwall Abbey. Old Hoarg and Brother Hoben were hard at work in Great Hall. Mother Abbess Mhera could not bear untidiness, and she had cajoled them into doing the job they had been promising to do for the last ten days, repairing two windowpanes that had been smashed by vermin slingstones. Hoarg held the ladder, whilst Brother Hoben fitted the second small sheet of carefully knapped crystal into place and began closing the lead flashing around it by pressing with a smooth block of beech wood. The task completed, he climbed down from the ladder and helped Hoarg to sweep up the broken shards. "There, old friend. Good as new, eh!"
The inseparable pair Fwirl and Broggle came skipping through from the kitchens. They waved to Hoarg and Hoben.
"Good morning! It's another lovely day outside!"
Old Hoarg raised a wrinkled paw as they opened the Abbey door. "If you're goin' out, please don't slam that door. Give these new panes time to settle in; don't want 'em jump in' out."
The squirrels made a great show of shutting the door carefully and skipped off toward the orchard, chuckling.
Fwirl pulled Broggle up at the orchard edge, her eyes shining as she took in the beautiful season. "Oh, isn't it pretty! Look at those leaves, golden and brown and scarlet, and the colors of the fruit: yellow pears, red apples, purple berries. There's our Abbess. Mhera, good morning to you!"
Mhera was standing with several Dibbuns, grouped around a russet apple tree, heavy with fine rust-colored fruit. She waved a paw absently at her two friends, her eyes never leaving the tree. Trey put a paw to his lips and reprimanded the two squirrels.
"Shush, Muvver h'Abbess says not to shout or stamp y'paws. H'apples fall when they be's ready, not afore!"
Fwirl and Broggle joined the group, curious to know what was going on. "Is it a game?" the squirrelmaid whispered to little Feegle. "Can we join in, please?"
Still staring at the tree, Feegle nodded. "First one t'see a h'apple fall down gets a prize off Muvver h'Abbess, so be shushed an' watcha tree!" As she spoke, an apple fell and hit Broggle on the head.
Wegg the hogbabe whooped with excitement. "Me me, I see'd it, Muvver h'Abbess!"
Broggle rubbed his head. "Aye, but I felt it!"
Fwirl was almost knocked over by Mhera as she dashed toward the Abbey, in a most undignified manner for an Abbess, shouting, "Mama, Mama, the russet apples are falling!"
Squeaking and laughing, the Dibbuns raced after her. Broggle touched a spot between his ears ruefully. "What was all that about, Fwirl?"
The squirrelmaid shrugged. "I've no idea. Oh, look, there are harebells growing by the old wheelbarrow. Let's take some to Cregga."
Between them they gathered a small bunch of the delicate drooping blue flowers and carried them to the sunny spot by the northeast wall corner. Cregga's grave was always bedecked with the most beautiful flowers. Fwirl took a beaker with some water in it and arranged the harebells. Broggle placed it gently on top of the headstone, a smooth slab of typical Redwall sandstone with words engraved upon it.
Sleep softly on, Beloved One,
Take with you all our dreams,
To rest in noontide valleys,
Beside old silent streams.
Cregga Rose Eyes, Warrior Badger of
Salamandastron mountain
and Badgermum of Redwall Abbey for
countless seasons.
Filorn and Friar Bobb were busy in the kitchens, decorating a magnificent redcurrant trifle. The Friar's tongue stuck out at one side of his mouth as he inserted flaked almonds into the golden mound of meadowcream surmounting it. Then he stood back, watching Filorn anxiously.
"Easy now. It takes a good eye and a steady paw, marm!"
Filorn leaned over the trifle, holding her breath. Her paw descended fraction by fraction, until the candied strawberry in it came to rest precisely on the peak of the cream.
"That's perfect! But I've seen you do as well, Friar."
Holding out his paw, the old squirrel watched it tremble slightly. "Mayhap when I was younger, but I rely on you now, my friend. Whoa, look out! What's all this stampede?"
Mhera skidded in, her gown swirling as she tried to check herself. Filorn caught her daughter and was rocked back on her paws by the Dibbuns colliding into them both.
"Mercy me, Abbess, there's no need to rush in like that. We've finished the trifle you ordered!"
Mousebabe Trey clambered up Mhera's back and flung himself into Filorn's paws, roaring, "FTorn mum, rusty h'apples be's fallin' down inna h'orchard!"
Filorn stumbled backward. Mhera stopped her, but was unable to rescue Trey. The tiny fellow went headlong into the trifle while Filorn stared as if hypnotized at her daughter. "The russet apples are falling!"
Friar Bobb hooked Trey out of the trifle, the other Dibbuns giggling at the sight of the mousebabe with the candied strawberry stuck on his head. Friar Bobb burst out laughing.
"Hohoho, look at liddle Trey! I'll straighten this mess up, marm, you an' the Abbess go an' do what y've got to do. Hohoho!"
They found the otter sisters, Blekker and Swash, with a few of the ottercrew down at the pond, taking a morning dip. At the sight of Mhera and Filorn, the energetic otters bounded out of the water and waggled their rudders politely in respectful greeting.
"G'day, Abbess, marm, wot can we do fer ye?"
Mhera felt dwarfed by the two big sisters. "The russet apples have started to fall. I saw it myself, in the orchard a short while ago. The message you brought from Skipper said that Rukky Garge would have my brother Deyna healed and well by the time russet apples were falling. What do we do?"
Swash placed a broad calming paw on Mhera's shoulder. "You waits, Abbess marm, that's wot ye do. We'll stand lookout on the walltops. Meanwhiles, you an' yore mama go about yore business. Me'n'Blekker'll let ye know the moment any thin' stirs."
Filorn folded her paws resolutely. "My thanks to you, Swash, but we'll be up on the walltop with you, watching for my son's arrival back home."
Blekker shook water from her coat. "I wouldn't advise it, marm. It could take a day an' a night or two. Skipper wouldn't be too 'appy if'n he knew you was up there that long. Best stay inside. Leave it to us."
But Mhera would not hear of it. "You leave Skipper to me, Blekker, we're going up there with you. Mama, tell Fwirl we'll be taking our meals on the ramparts and ask Foremole Brull to bring up blankets for us and the crew."
It was Gundil who led the party bringing blankets to the walltop. He presented Mhera with a soft pink one. "This 'un's furr ee, h'Abbess. Oi'm stayen oop yuur with ee, hurr!"