Glurma, the old, female ratcook of the Bludgullet, looked up from her stockpot, as Ragchin and his group came wandering into the new camp, beneath some willows on a streambank. She challenged them in a harsh voice. “Tell me ye’ve caught fishes, or kilt birds, but don’t say dem scabby ole roots is all yew got?”
There was a good number of the crew sitting about in groups. They watched in disgust as Ragchin’s patrol threw their meagre offering on the wilted heap of vegetation, which was all that had been brought in.
Ragchin spat out moodily, “Dat wuz all we could find, ain’t nuthin’ much out dere.”
Glurma flung a few pawfuls of their find into the pot. As steam rose from the boiling mixture, she wrinkled her snout distastefully. “Ugh, ramson bulbs, I could tell dat stink anyplace!”
Jungo’s stomach rumbled aloud, he shrugged. “Smells awright ter me, I’d eat anyt’ink, I’m ’ungry!”
There was a whoosh of flying metal, the mace and chain missed Glurma by a hairsbreadth. The missile struck the cauldron, knocking it over. Sizzling steam and cascading hot water extinguished the fire noisily. Vizka Longtooth strode through the camp, and retrieved his weapon. He stood looking about in the hushed silence which followed his dramatic entrance. “Well, did ya t’ink I wuz dead?”
The haglike Glurma cackled aloud. “Heeheehee! I knowed ye’d come back, Cap’n, dat’s why I kep’ der crew t’gether fer ye!”
The crew did not know how to respond to their captain’s appearance, everybeast kept dutifully silent.
The golden fox draped the chain of his mace round Ragchin’s neck. He drew the petrified ferret close to him. “I left Magger in charge, where is he?”
Ragchin swallowed hard. “Gone, Cap’n, Magger’s gone. We ain’t seen ’im since dose big Brownrats attacked.”
Vizka showed his long fangs in that familiarly dangerous smile, he spoke almost playfully. “Gone, eh, an’ yew thought ye’d take ’is place as leader of der crew, is dat right, shipmate?”
Ragchin denied the accusation vehemently. “No, Cap’n, no, yore der leader, everybeast knows dat!”
Vizka was about to speak, when Maudie’s distant cry rang out. “Eulaliiiaaaa!”
The golden fox released Ragchin immediately. “Dat ain’t from too far off, foller me, buckoes, an’ norra werd outta anybeast!”
Rangval sat by the embers of the fire, staring at the crumpled figure of the vole. “Orkwil, me ould mate, it looks like yore not the only one who wants t’get his paws on that sword.”
Maudie placed her footpaw on the boulder that had slain the unfortunate creature. “Rather. Well, that poor fool didn’t suffer much, wot. I wonder what scallywag did the deed?”
Rangval averted his face from the still-smoking remains of the burnt magpie. “Phwaw! Can ye imagine anybeast wantin’ to eat that?”
Orkwil had been casting about the scene, he wandered off toward some ferns, not too far off. “I think I’ve found tracks here, some kind of vermin. Aye, this’ll be him, sure enough.” He reached the fernbed, and went into it stooping. “Aye, this is the murderer, he’s been slashin’ round at these ferns, choppin’ ’em all ways with the swo—”
Swooping out of the ferns behind him, the golden fox moved like lightning. Wrapping the mace chain around Orkwil’s neck he crossed his paws and tugged hard, calling aloud, “One move an’ I snaps ’is neck!”
Maudie and Rangval froze, the haremaid muttering, “You harm one spike of his head an’ I’ll kill you!”
Vizka tugged on the wooden mace haft. “Yer in no position ter give orders, rabbet. Ahoy, crew!”
There was a noise behind Rangval, he turned to see a whole crowd of vermin coming over the hill. “No good arguin’, Maudie, the fox is holdin’ all the acorns in this game. He’s got us for certain!”
28
It was night. Gorath could look up and see the stars, countless numbers of them, some glittering, others still and unwinking. His grandfather had shown him stars when he was small, hanging in the skies above the Northern Coast, brilliant and cold as blue ice. Not like these stars, some almost gold, warm-looking, suspended in the soft, dark, Mossflower night.
A thought occurred to the young badger. What was he doing here, lying in a depression formed by three hilltops? He recalled a star, like some huge, flaming comet, exploding inside his skull. Then a black veil, enveloping his mind. Two creatures were talking nearby, their voices almost muted. One sounded young, feminine.
“But, Tabura, he looks far too big and powerful to have fainted away as you said.”
The other voice was old, husky, with a rumble like far-off midsummer thunder.
“See the scar, he has been sorely wounded some time ago. A dangerous thing for a Warrior of the Bloodwrath. His rage overwhelmed him, he could not control the anger. It is well that we found him before his enemies did, Salixa. Try giving him a little water, he should be coming round. Not too much, just a sip or two.”
Gorath was fully awake, but he held his silence, allowing the one called Salixa to raise his head. He drank sparingly from the scallop shell which was pressed to his lips. The water tasted cold and sweet. Sitting up slowly, Gorath could see he was west of the Abbey, on top of one of the few rises which dotted the flatlands.
Two badgers sat silently watching him. The old male gave a soft, homespun cloak to the younger one, a slender badgermaid. She draped it about Gorath’s shoulders as the old one spoke.
“We did not make fire, for fear of being seen by foes.”
Gorath felt the pitchfork, lying nearby. He picked it up. “This is called Tung. My name is Gorath, I fear nobeast!”
The old badger nodded. “I can see that you do not know fear, Gorath. This maid is my travelling companion, she is Salixa. I am called Tabura.”
The young badger’s eyes were wide with recognition. “Did you say ‘Tabura’?” The name leapt unbidden to Gorath’s tongue.
He detected a slight chuckle in the oldster’s voice. “How does one so young know of the Tabura?”
“My grandmother used it often. If my grandfather and she were disputing anything, and he won the argument, she’d say, ‘Huh, you’re becoming a real Tabura.’ Also, if I ever had a question that neither of them could answer, they’d tell me to wait until I met the Tabura, and ask him.”
The maid, Salixa, refilled the scallop shell with water, passing it to her elder, who merely wet his lips with it before replying.
“We are different creatures, you and I, Gorath, each at opposite ends of the same scale. Once there were many badgers who were called Tabura, they devoted their lives to peace, and the search for knowledge. There were also the warriors, those who were born with Bloodwrath.
“As vermin conquerors arose throughout the lands, there was a need for more warriors, and fewer wisebeasts. I once had a brother, he was a Bloodwrath badger, just like you, Gorath. It is seasons out of mind since I last saw him. Being the warrior he was, his bones have probably long whitened under some far sun. But enough of my meanderings, tell me, what roads in your short life have brought you here?”
Gorath felt he could immediately trust the Tabura, he related his whole life to him. However, as he spoke his gaze wandered constantly to Salixa. Even though she spoke not a word, and Gorath could not make out her features clearly in the darkness, he could feel understanding, and a silent compassion, flowing from the badgermaid. The Tabura sat with his eyes closed, never interrupting, or questioning. When Gorath had ended his narration, the old badger remained quiet for a long time before speaking.
“Tell me, would you wish me to help you? I can see you have much to learn. A Tabura can be of great assistance to one such as you. I do not require an answer right away, rest here with us tonight. We will speak again in the morning, Gorath.”
Apart from his grandparents, Gorath had never known any other badgers. The kinship he felt with Tabura and Salixa was totally natural. He felt obliged to reply. “Tabura, thank you for your offer of help. I accept. Tell me what I nee
d to do.”
A rare, slow smile touched the old badger’s face. “Salixa and I need to visit Redwall Abbey. It is a place I have heard much about. As you are already acquainted with its creatures, perhaps you’d like to introduce us?”
Gorath rose, pointing in the direction of the huge, dark shape to the east. “But of course, I’d be glad to. We’ll go there now, it’s no great journey, I’m sure they’ll welcome us!”
The Tabura held out his paw. “Lend me your weapon, to use as a staff. Salixa, walk ahead with Gorath, I’ll follow at my own pace.”
They strolled over the flatlands at a leisurely pace. Tabura kept a few steps behind, which Gorath suspected was the old one’s way of allowing them to talk together. Salixa stayed quiet at first, letting Gorath take the initiative.
“Are you related to the Tabura, is he your grandfather?”
The badgermaid stooped to pick a small plant, she sniffed it briefly. “Scabious, it’s said to be good for rashes, I like the flower, it’s a pretty lilac colour. The Tabura is no relation to me, he is kind and wise, like a very old father. He’s teaching me to be a healer, I know lots of plants and herbs, even tree barks and roots.”
Gorath accepted the scabious flower from her. “How do you come to be with him?”
Salixa glanced back, satisfying herself that the old badger was not listening, before she replied. “I only know what he told me, I must have been too young to recall anything. I had no parents, or kin. The Tabura found me with a small vermin band. He took me from them, I did not even have a name, they called me stripedog and kept me on a rope halter. Tabura named me Salixa, an ancient name for willow trees, he said it was because I was so slender, like a willow sapling.”
Gorath nodded. “Good for him, I know what it’s like to be called names like stripedog, or stripehound. Were the vermin angry when he took you from them?”
Salixa replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “I recall asking him that same question. He told me never to mention those vermin, ever. Because he had sent them all to a place where they could never inflict their evil, anger or torment on any creature again.”
Now it was Gorath’s turn to glance back at the Tabura. He found it hard to believe that such a humble, mild-mannered creature could slay a vermin band. Then Gorath looked at Salixa, she was picking another small blossom. “Field gentian, see the little, star-shaped purple flower? The potion made from its roots is very good for wounds.”
In that moment Gorath knew why the Tabura had done what he did. He also knew that he would mete out the same fate to anybeast who harmed a single hair of the gentle badgermaid.
Osbil and some of his Guosim were on walltop patrol, he spied the three forms crossing the ditch below. “Show yoreselves an’ be recognised, are ye friends or foebeasts?”
Gorath replied, “Log a Log Osbil, it’s me, Gorath, and I have two friends with me.”
Proud to be addressed by his recently inherited title, Log a Log Osbil detailed two of his shrews to admit the badgers. He called down in a loud whisper to Gorath, “Go round to the north wallgate, matey, we’ve got those Brownrats still camped south of us!”
Gorath and his friends were hurried inside by the Guosim. Abbot Daucus met them at the entrance to Great Hall.
“Gorath, they’re out searching for you, come in and bring your friends. I’m afraid the news isn’t good. Come into the kitchens, Friar Chondrus will fix you some supper. Then you can hear what’s been going on.”
The Friar served them a supper of vegetable soup and pasties, crisp from the oven. Gorath introduced his new friends as they enjoyed Redwall’s delicious hospitality. When he heard the old badger’s name, the Father Abbot was impressed.
“Welcome indeed, sir, most scholars know that the title Tabura is only bestowed on the wisest and most learned badgers. It is a great honour for us to have you as our guest, but what is the purpose of your visit to Redwall Abbey?”
The Tabura bowed courteously to the Abbot, his eyes twinkling. “Most scholars know very little about my title. It is a tribute to your knowledge of badger lore that you address me thus, Father Abbot. There are several reasons for my visit to your wonderful Abbey, not the least of them being a desire to sample your good Friar’s outstanding cooking.”
Chondrus acknowledged the compliment with a radiant smile.
The badger took the Abbot’s paw firmly. “I could tell by your face, when we first met, that you are beset with urgent problems of your own, Father. In the light of this, let us put aside my minor requests, and concentrate on your troubles. Explain them, and I will see what help three badgers can offer.”
As the Abbot spoke, Gorath found his attention distracted by Salixa, who was listening intently to Abbot Daucus. Gorath was plainly enchanted by the first badgermaid he had ever met. Calmness and serenity seemed to radiate from this slender, sable-furred creature. She possessed the most gentle and compassionate eyes. The young badger was studying her so intently that he had forgotten all about his food.
Everybeast thought that the Tabura had fallen asleep, by the time Daucus had finished relating the current situation, but they held a respectful silence until the wise badger’s eyes opened, and he spoke.
“It is late, you all have things to do. Go about your business, or off to your rest. Leave me here, I need to think. See to your own needs, friends, please.”
Skipper felt concern for the Tabura. “But wot about yore own rest, sir? You ain’t young no more, ye must be tired!”
The old one shook his head. “I have learned discipline of body and mind long ago. The murder of one of your beloved creatures, the theft of your precious sword. One, possibly two bands of foebeasts threatening Redwall, and the three outside your walls, friends, who may be in mortal danger. What are the problems of one old badger, when you have troubles enough at your door? Leave me now.”
Abbot Daucus showed the Tabura downstairs to Cavern Hole. “Sit in the big armchair by the hearth, I’ll see that you aren’t disturbed, friend. By the way, what problems, aside from ours, are on your mind?”
The Tabura patted the Abbot’s paw, chuckling. “I care greatly for my ward, Salixa, as I am coming to do also for young Gorath. Did you not see them looking at each other? They are the sun and the moon, one is flame, the other is a calm lake. I know their fates are intertwined. I must see to it that no harm touches them, they are both very special creatures.”
The Abbot recalled the looks that had passed between both young badgers. He smiled at the old one. “Surely you are the wisest creature that ever lived!”
The Tabura gave Daucus one of his rare smiles. “Or the most sentimental old fool. I bid you good night, Father. We will meet again as the sun rises.”
29
Maudie, Rangval and Orkwil were strung up by their paws from the limb of a big sycamore, which grew at the edge of the camp. Their footpaws barely touched the ground. Four guards—two stoats, a weasel and a fat ferret—lounged against the sycamore trunk. Surprisingly, they had not been beaten or tormented by the Bludgullet’s crew. Vizka and his vermin were lounging on the other side of the camp clearing, virtually ignoring their three captives.
Orkwil muttered to his two friends, “It was my fault, gettin’ caught like that, sorry, mates.”
Rangval winked at him. “Ah, don’t fret about it, bucko, shure, it could’ve happened to anybeast, ain’t that right, Maudie darlin’?”
The haremaid looked up at her bound paws. “Right enough, old lad, I didn’t spot that confounded fox ’til the last flippin’ moment. Sneaky blighter!”
Orkwil could not keep the tremble out of his voice. “Huh, I ’spect they’re busy thinkin’ up ’orrible ways to slay us, what d’ye think?”
Rangval gritted his teeth angrily. “Shure, I’d give ’em a few ould things t’think about if’n I wasn’t trussed up like washin’ on a line.”
Maudie agreed with him. “Indeed, the cowardly rascals. If I was loose enough t’get a few punches at ’em, there’d be teeth fallin??
? like hailstones around this bloomin’ camp!”
Rangval swung to face Maudie, grinning roguishly. “Tell ye wot, let’s bait ’em up a bit, eh?”
Orkwil looked from one to the other, mystified. “Wot d’ye mean, ‘bait ’em up a bit’?”
Rangval danced a little jig on his footpaws. “You just listen to us, me ould mucker, ye’ll get the hang of it soon enough. Would ye like to start the ball, Maudie darlin’? Go on, give ’em plenty!”
Shouting so that she could be clearly heard, Maudie began insulting the golden fox and his crew. “I think they’re goin’ to leave us here to die of old age, ’cos they’re too jolly scared to fight us!”
One of the guards ran in front of Maudie, waving a spear at her. “Sharrap, rabbet, or I’ll gut ya!”
The haremaid swung forward, kicking him under the chin, and laying the guard out flat.
Rangval hooted. “Hahahaharrr! Did ye ever see anybeast so dim? Ahoy over there, any other idiot need a good kick? C’mon, line up over here an’ we’ll oblige ye!”
Vizka Longtooth saw several of his crew rising and pawing at their weapons. He snarled at them, “Stay where y’are, I’m tryin’ ta t’ink!”
The small rat, Firty, piped up indignantly, “But dey’re insultin’ us, Cap’n, dey can’t gerraway wid dat. Ain’t ya gunna do not’ink?”
Leaning over, Vizka dealt him a fierce cuff on the ear. “I’ll do sumt’ink ter you if’n ya don’t shurrupp!”
The vermin crew were forced to sit glumly, enduring the prisoners’ ribald comments.
Maudie sang out, “Oh, foxy, foxy, could you come over here please, whilst I kick your oversized choppers out?”
Emboldened by the vermins’ lack of reprisals, Orkwil chimed in boldly. “Hah, I’m only little, but I can wallop weasels all day. Come an’ try yore luck with ’orrible Orkwil!”
Rangval broke out into a raucous ditty.