The Long Patrol Part 5

Tammo was busily trying to sever his bonds on the fallen fox's pikeblade, when the drums sounded close. He looked up to see a very fat hare striding toward him. Amazingly, the creature was making the drum sounds with his mouth.

"Bab.u.mm bab.u.mm barab.u.mpityb.u.mpityb.u.mm! Drrrrrrr-ubbity dubbity rump ta tump! Barraboomboomboom!"

A tall elegant hare with drooping mustachios, carrying a long saber over one shoulder of his bemedaled green velvet jacket, stepped languidly out of the tree cover.

"Good show, Corporal Rubbadub, compliments to y'sah. Now d'you mind awfully if one asks y'to give those infernal drums a rest?"

With a smile that was like the sun coming out, the fat hare threw up a smart salute and brought both footpaws down hard as he gave two final drum noises.

"Boom boom!"

The tall hare's saber whistled through the air as he spoke to Tammo and Russa. "Stay quite still, chaps, that's the ticket!"

The two friends winced and closed their eyes tightly as the saber whipped around them like an angry wasp. In a trice the cords that had bound them were lying slashed on the ground.

Russa smiled one of her rare smiles. "Captain Perigord Habile Sinistra to the rescue, eh!"

The hare made an elegant leg and bowed. "At y'service, marm, though I'm known as Major Perigord nowadays, promotion y'know. Hmm, Russa Nodrey, thought you'd have perished from vermin attack or old age seasons ago. Who's this chap, if I may make so bold as t'ask?"

Standing upright, Tammo returned the Major's bow courteously. "Tamello De Fformelo Tussock, sah."

"Indeed! Any relation to Colonel Cornspurrey De Fformelo Tussock?"

"I should say so, sah, he's my pater!"

"You don't say! Well, there's a thing. I served under your old pa when I was about your seasons. By m'life! Then you'll be Mem Divinia's young 'un!"

"I have that honor, sah."

61.

Major Perigord walked in a circle around Tammo, shaking his head and smiling. "Mem Divinia, eh, great seasons o' salt, the prettiest hare ever t'slay vermin. I wors.h.i.+ped her, y'know, from afar of course, she was ever the Colonel's, and me? Pish tus.h.!.+ I was nought but a young Galloper. Ah for the golden days o' youth, wot!"

He broke off to listen to the screams of the fleeing vermin growing fainter, then turned to Corporal Rubbadub and said, "Be s'good as to call the chaps'n'chappesses back, will you, there's a good creature."

Still smiling from ear to ear, Rubbadub marched off in the direction of the retreat, his drum noises echoing and rolling throughout the small woodland.

"Barraboom! Barraboom! Barraboomdiddyboomdiddy boomboom!"

The Major perched gracefully on the fallen beech trunk. "Complete March Hare, ol' Rubbadub, took too many head wounds in battle, doncha know. Never speak, but the chap makes better drum noises than a real drum, or four real drums f that matter. Brave as a badger and fearless as a fried frog, though, a perilous creature t'have on your side in a pinch."

Tammo remembered the term "perilous hare," so he gave the polite rejoinder, "As you say, sah, a perilous creature, an' what more could one ask of a hare?"

Perigord nodded his head and winked broadly at the younger beast. "Rather! *Tis easy t'see you're the Colonel's offspring, though I think that fortunately you favor your mother more."

Tammo touched his aching head and leaned back against the beech.

Major Perigord was immediately apologetic. "Oh, my dear fellow, what a beauty of a lump they gave you on the old beezer-you too, Russa. Forgive me, chattin' away here like a sea gull at suppertime. We must get y'some medical attention. At ease in the ranks there, sit down an' rest until Pasque gets back. She's our healer-have y'right as rain in two ticks, wot! You're with the Long Patrol now, y'know, no expense spared!"

Despite his headache, Tammo managed a bright smile. "Did you hear that, Russa? We're with the Long Patrol!"

13.

To Tammo's utter amazement, when all the hares returned to camp, he counted only eleven, including Perigord and Rubbadub. The Major was amused by the look on his new friend's face.

"I can see what you're thinkin*, laddie buck. Well, let me tell you, the Long Patrol counts quality high above quant.i.ty, wot! Here, let me introduce y'to our happy band. This is our Galloper, Riffle, fleet of paw and faster'n the wind. Sergeant Torgoch, a walkin' armory, collects weapons, 'specially blades. These two're Tare'n'Turry the terrible twins, can't tell 'em apart, eh, never mind, neither c'n I. Lieutenant Mono, our Quartermaster, can steal a nut from a squirrel's mouth an' make him diink he's jolly well eaten it. My sister, Captain Twayblade, charming singer but rather perilous with that long rapier she carries. The delightful Pasque Valerian, best young medico t'come off the mountain, I've seen her fix a b.u.t.terfly's wing. That chap there's Midge Manycoats. He's our spy, master o' disguise an' deadly with a noose. Then there's Rockjaw Grang, Giant o' the Norm, bet y've never seen a hare that size 62.

63 in a season's march. That leaves m'self, whom y've met, an' Corporal Rubbadub, the droll drummer."

Rubbadub smiled widely, clapping his ears together twice and issuing a drum sound so that it looked as if the ears, and not his mouth, had made the noise.

"Boomboom!"

Russa nudged Tammo and, nodding toward Torgoch, murmured, "That 'un's carryin' yore blade, mate!"

Amid the array of daggers, swords, and knives bristling from Torgoch's belt, the young hare identified his own weapon, its shoulder belt wound 'round the blade.

Tammo braced himself and faced the hare. "Beg pardon, old lad, but I rather think that's my dirk you've got."

The Sergeant took Tammo's weapon from his belt. Balancing it deftly on his paw, he smiled ruefully. "I 'oped it wouldn't be, young sir, 'tis a luvverly blade. I took it orf a vermin oo didn't look as if Vd be usin' it agin. You'd best 'ave it back, y'don't see knives like this'n a lyin' about every day. A proper officer's weapon 'tis, I'd say a Badger Lord could've made it."

Tammo was about to put on the belt when he suddenly sat down hard on the ground and began s.h.i.+vering. The ache in his head had become overwhelming. The tall saturnine Lieutenant Mono nodded gloomily at Pasque Valerian and said, "I'll light a fire an' heat some water. You'd best see to that young 'un, he's got a touch o' battle shock. I recall m'self bein* like that first time I saw serious action."

Pasque sat alongside Tammo, rummaging in her herbalist's pouch. "Lie back now, easy does it. Here, chew on this- dkm't swallow it, though. Spit it out when you've had enough."

It was a sort of sticky moss, bound together by some type of vegetable gum, with a taste reminiscent of mint and roses. Tammo chewed slowly, and through half-closed lids he watched Pasque mixing herbs by the fire. She was the prettiest, most gentle creature he had ever encountered. Tammo resolved that he would get to know her better, then his thoughts became muddled as he drifted away into warm dark seas of slumber.

64.

Night had fallen when he awakened, and a delicious aroma of cooking reminded him he was very hungry.

Perigord's sister, Twayblade, patted the log beside her. "Feelin' better now, young 'un? Come an' perch here. Rub-badub, bring this beast somethin' to eat, wot."

Instinctively, Tammo reached to touch his injured head. A ma.s.sive paw engulfed his, and he found himself staring upward into the fearsome face of the giant hare, Rockjaw Grang.

"Nay, lad, th'art not to touch thy 'ead yet awhile. Best leave alone what our little la.s.s 'as patched up. Sithee, coom an' set by t'fire."

Rockjaw picked Tammo up as if he were a babe and sat him down between Twayblade and Pasque, who smiled quietly at him and said, "I hope you're feeling better this evening."

Tammo flushed to his eartips and muttered incoherently, feeling completely awkward and embarra.s.sed for the first time in his life. He wanted so much to talk with Pasque, yet his tongue would not obey his brain. Rubbadub saved the situation by marching up with a bowl of hot pea and celery soup with fresh-baked bread to dip in it.

He winked and grinned broadly. "Drrrmrr tish boom!"

Russa raised her eyebrows. "Oh, he does cymbals too?"

The young Galloper Riffle refilled the squirrel's beaker. "Aye, marm, bugles also, an' flutes when he's a mind to. Ol' Rubbadub's a full band when the mood takes him."

Major Perigord turned to his troop good-humoredly. "Stripe me, but you're a dull bunch o' ditch wallopers! We ain't welcomed our guests with the anthem yet."

Tammo looked up from his soup. "The anthem?"

Midge Manycoats took out a tiny flute and got the right key. "Humm, humm, fa, sol la te, fa, fa, fa, that's it. Right, troop, the 'Song of the Long Patrol.' Like to hear it, Tammo?"

The young hare nodded eagerly. "Rather, I'd love to!"

With Midge acting as conductor and choirmaster, the little woodland camp with its flickering fire shadows, echoed to the famous marching air of the Salamandastron fighters.

"O it's hard and dry when the sun is high And dust is in your throat, When the rain pours down, near fit to drown, 65 It soaks right through your coat.

But the hares of the Long Patrol, my lads, Stout hearts they walk with me Over hill and plain and back again To the sh.o.r.es of the wide blue sea.

Through mud and mire to a warm campfire, I'll trek with you, old friend, O'er lea and dale in a roaring gale, Right to our journey's end.

Aye, the hares of the Long Patrol, my lads, Love friends.h.i.+p more than gold.

We'll share long days and tread hard ways, Good comrades, brave and bold!"

Rubbadub completed the anthem with a long drumroll and a double boom as Tammo and Russa thumped out their applause on the tree trunk.

The terrible twins, Tare and Turry, called out to Tammo, "Come on, come on, you've got to jolly well sing us one back!"

"Aye, so y'have, sing up, Tamm, you look as if y'could belt out a good ditty!''

Russa Nodrey noted the horrified look on Tammo's face, and smiled wryly at Perigord. "Hah! Look at 'im, that'n would sooner be boiled in the soup than sing wid yore pretty Pasque sittin' next to 'im!"

She spared Tammo further embarra.s.sment by volunteering herself. "Ye can't expect that hare t'sing whilst 'e's recoverin' from an injury. I'll do my anthem for you, 'tis called 'The Song of the Stick.' Though I usually sings it when I'm alone."

Leaping up, Russa began twirling her small hardwood staff, tossing it in the air, catching it on her tail, flicking it back overhead into her paws, and spinning it until it became a blur as she sang: "This ain't a sword, it ain't a spear, An arrow, nor a bow, 'Tis just a thing I carries 'round With me where e'er I go.

66.

It cannot talk or grumble, And never answers back, But it can sniff out vermin An' land 'em such a crack!

O my Hddle stick o' wood, my liddle stick o' wood, Whacks here'n'there an' everywhere, No weapon's half so good, An' I am tellin' you, My friend so stout'n'true, This liddle piece o' timber Has always seen me through.

It'll wallop a weasel, sock a stoat, Or fling a ferret from 'is coat, Twould knock a fox clean out his socks, My liddle stick o' wood!"

The hares gathered 'round, applauding Russa, who was still performing tricks with the hardwood, which seemed as though it had a life of its own.

Tammo waved at her. "Thanks, matey, that was great!"

Russa came over to whisper in his ear. "I wouldn't do it fer any otherbeast, Tamm, performin' in public ain't my thing. So remember, you owe me one, pal."

When the meal and the entertainment were over, Major Perigord gave out his orders.

"Heads down now, chaps, we move out at dawn. Rockjaw, take first watch. Riffle, Midge, reeky 'round a bit, see if y'can pick up the vermin trail for the mornin'. Compliments an' g'night, troop."

Russa and Perigord sat by the fire, long after the rest were asleep, conversing in low tones.

"What brings you an' the Patrol over thisways, friend?"

"Rapscallions an' Lady Cregga Rose Eyes's commands. We travel on her orders, Russa. Last winter we did battle with old Gormad Tunn an' his army, never seen so many vermin in me life, wot! Well, we gave 'em the drubbin' they richly deserved an' sent the sc.u.m packin'. Great loss o' life on both sides, but Rapscallions got the worst of it, by m'left paw they 67 did! Our Badger Lady was like a pack o' wolves rolled into onebeast when the Bloodwrath came upon her. They took off like scalded crabs an' we pursued 'em almost into deep water, hackin' an' smas.h.i.+n' at their fleet, did a fair part of damage to it. Hah, off they sailed, screamin' an' cursin' something dreadful!"

Russa stared into the fire. "Evil murderin' beasts, 'twas all they deserved!"

The elegant Major stroked his mustachios reflectively. "Trouble is, n.o.beast seems t'know where the blighters went. We know Rapscallions don't sail out on the open seas, they hug the coasts an' make raids from their s.h.i.+ps. So we're certain they can't have had their fleet sunk out at sea an' got themselves drowned, worst luck. Lady Rose Eyes is extremely worried, y'see they've dropped completely out of sight, over a thousand Rapscallions, with Gormad Tunn and those two evil sons of his, Damug an' Byral. Our Badger Lady figures that the cads are layin' up someplace, plannin' a major comeback. Huh, they won't come near Salamandastron again, but she's of the opinion, an' rightly so, that the great Rapscallion army'11 find a target easier than our mountain. Russa, I tell you, with a mob o' that magnitude they could create a veritable bloodbath anyplace!"

Russa nodded her agreement. "So she sent you an' yore troop out to track 'em down?"

Perigord stirred the embers with his sabertip. "That she did, old friend, and we searched most o' the winter until we located today's gang. But they're only a blinkin' fraction of the main band, must've had their s.h.i.+p blown off course an' wrecked. I think they're travelin' overland to join up with the others, that's why we're trailin' 'em. Pity we had to show our paws by attackin' them today, but I couldn't let you an' young Tammo be slain by those foul blackguards."

Russa patted the Major's left paw gratefully. "Thanks, Perigord. I wasn't greatly bothered, but it'd be a shame t'see a fine young hare like Tammo butchered by vermin. I brought him along with me because 'tis his life's ambition to join the Long Patrol. 'E idolizes you lot."

The hare squinted along the length of his saberblade. "I could see that. Bear in mind, both Tammo's mater'n'pater ran 68.

with the Patrol once. He comes of good fightin' stock, that young 'un. Officer material, I shouldn't wonder, wot?"

Both beasts sat silently, watching the flames die to embers. Russa finally stretched out in the shelter of the beech log and said, "If you take him with yer I'll come along for the trip. Promised his ma I'd look out fer 'im. Wot's yore next move?"

The Major unb.u.t.toned his tunic and lay down. "Sleep what's left o' the night, I s'pose, then carry on trailin' the vermin an' see where they go. Though if they persist in trav-elin' south I'll have to stop 'em permanent-can't have those killers wanderin' up the path to Redwall Abbey. Lady Cregga'd have an absolute fit if she knew we'd let a gang o' bloodthirsty thieves anywhere near the Abbey."

Russa rolled over so that her back was warmed by the embers. "Fits right in with my plans. I was plannin' on visitin' ole Abbess Tansy, an' of course there's always the famous Redwall kitchens, no grub better in the land!"

Major Perigord Habile Sinistra licked his lips dreamily. "I'm right with you there, old sport!"

14.

Arven was jerked into wakefulness by Shad the otter Gatekeeper. The burly creature was cloaked and carrying a lantern. "All paws on deck, mate, yore needed at the wall!"

Wordlessly, the squirrel donned his tunic and grabbed a cloak, then the pair stole out of the dormitory silently, loath to waken young Redwallers still sleeping.

Descending the spiral stairs to the ground floor, Shad explained what had taken place. "I was asleep in the gatehouse not an hour back when Skipper an' his otter crew arrived. Funny, I sez, I was comin' over t'see you today, messmate. Was you now, sez 'e t'me, well that is funny, Shad, 'cos I couldn't sleep fer dreamin' that summat was amiss at the Abbey, so I roused the crew an' set course for 'ere right away! Well, there's a stroke o' luck, sez I to 'im, you saved me a journey, matey, y'better come an' look at our south wall."

By then Shad and Arven were at the main door of the Abbey building. Pale stormlit dawn was breaking. A gale-force wind tore the breath from their mouths, buffeting both creatures sideways, and hissing rain glistened off the gra.s.s in the cold half-light 69.

7O Sheltering the lantern beneath his flapping cloak, Shad shouted at Arven, "Come an' see for yoreself!"

Leaning into the tempest, heads down and cloaks drawn tight, both beasts made their way to the south wall.

Skipper of Otters stood at the southeast end of the wall, he and his crew sheltering beneath a monstrous jumble of branches, limbs, twigs, leaves, and stone blocks. Arven nodded briefly to the otters, then, launching himself into the ma.s.s of foliage, he shed his cloak and climbed nimbly upward into the tangle. No squirrel could climb like the Champion of Redwall; in a short time Arven was vaulting out of the foliage onto the battlemented walkway that formed the walltop. Bracing himself against the stormy onslaught, he surveyed the damage and its cause.