The Long Patrol

by Brian Jacques

  Cregga took tongs and replaced the lump of metal she was working back in the forge. Then she gave the bellows a gentle push, flaring the charcoal and seacoal into flame.

  ‘Hmm, pity you missed the shrews. Their leader, the Log a Log, might have had some information for us. Never mind, well done. Ask Colonel Eyebright to come up here, will you?’

  ‘Yes marm!’ The young hare stood motionless to attention.

  Lady Cregga watched him for a moment, then unusually she gave a fleeting smile. ‘If you stand there any longer you’ll take root. Go now – you’re dismissed.’

  Algador saluted smartly and wheeled off so quickly he almost tripped over his own footpaws. Lady Cregga heard the door shut as she turned back to her work at the forge.

  Cutting straight through the main dining hall Algador made for the Officers’ Mess. He accosted another young hare coming out carrying tray and beakers. ‘Evenin’, Furgale! I say, is Colonel Eyebright in there? Got a rather important message for him.’

  Furgale was a jolly type, obliging too. Placing the tray on a window ledge he waggled an ear at the Runner. ‘Say no more, old pip, I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  Flinging the door open wide, Furgale danced comically to attention. Closing both eyes tightly he bellowed into the small room, ‘Ninth Spring Runnah t’see you, Colonel Eyebright. Sah!’

  Eyebright was every inch the military hare, of average size, silver grey with long seasons, a smart, spare figure in plain regulation green tunic. Looking up from the scrolls he was studying, Eyebright twitched his bristling moustache at the messenger. ‘I’m not deaf y’know, young feller. Send the chap in!’

  Algador marched smartly into the Officers’ Mess. ‘Lady Cregga sends her compliments an’ wishes you to attend her in the forge room, Colonel sah!’

  The Colonel’s eyebrows rose momentarily then, fastening his top tunic button, he rose and put aside the scrolls. ‘Very good, I’m on m’way!’

  He eyed the Runner up and down, a kindly smile creasing his weathered features. ‘Ninth Spring Runner, eh? Obviously enjoyin’ the job, young Algy!’

  Algador stood at ease, returning his Commanding Officer’s smile. ‘Very much, thank ye, sah.’

  Eyebright’s silver-tipped pace stick tapped his shoulder approvingly. ‘Good show, keep it up, won’t be long before we have y’out gallopin’ for a Long Patrol like that brother o’ yours.’

  Algador swelled with pride as the dapper Colonel marched spryly off.

  Cregga nodded her huge striped muzzle to the window seat as she poured pennycloud and dandelion cordial for herself and the Colonel. They sat together, he sipping his drink as he watched the parched badger take a long draught of hers. ‘Thirsty work at the ol’ forge, eh, marm?’ he said.

  The rose-hued eyes flickered in the forge light. ‘That’s not what I called you up here to talk about, Colonel. I had the Ninth Runner report to me this evening, and the news is still the same – all bad. No sign of Perigord’s patrol, no word of Rapscallions, everything’s too quiet. My voices tell me that big trouble is brewing somewhere.’

  Eyebright chose his words carefully. ‘But we’ve no proof, marm, mayhap things being quiet is all for the best. No news bein’ good news, if y’know what I mean.’

  The Colonel tried not to jump with fright as Lady Cregga suddenly roared and flung her beaker out of the window. ‘Gormad Tunn and those two spawn of his are out there getting ready to plunge the land into war. I’m certain of it!’

  The old hare kept his voice calm. ‘Tunn and his army could be anywhere, far north, south coast, wherever. We can only do our best by protecting the westland and the seas in front of us. We can’t just go marchin’ out an’ fightin’ all over the place.’

  Lady Cregga strode to the forge and, seizing a pair of tongs, she rummaged in the fire, pulling out the lump of metal she was working on. Laying it on the anvil she took up her hammer. ‘Colonel, how many hares would it take to guard Salamandastron and the shores roundabout?’

  The Colonel’s eyebrows shot up quizzically. ‘Marm?’

  Clang!

  Sparks flew as Cregga’s hammer smashed down on the glowing metal. ‘Don’t marm me! Answer the question, sir – how many fighting hares could do the job and are you able to command them?’

  Eyebright stood up abruptly. ‘Half the force would be sufficient to protect this area. As to your second question, marm, of course I am able to command. Are you questioning my ability or merely insulting my competence?’

  The Badger Lady let the hammer drop. Leaving the anvil, she came to stand in front of the old hare, towering above him. ‘My friend, forgive me, you are my strong right paw on this mountain. I did not mean to question your skills as a commander. I spoke in haste, please accept my sincere apology.’

  The pace stick rose, pointing directly at Cregga. Eyebright’s tone was that of a reproving father to an errant daughter. ‘I have served you well, Cregga Rose Eyes. Anybeast, no matter what their reputation or size, would be down on the shore now to give satisfaction, had they called my honour into question as you did. I forgive you those words, though I will not forget them. Marm, your trouble is that you are eaten up with hatred of Gormad Tunn, his brood and their followers. You feel bound to destroy them. Am I not right, wot?’

  Cregga hooded her eyes, gazing out of the window at the night seas. ‘You speak the truth. When I think of the gallant hares we lost on the beach and in the shallows of the tide on those three days and nights – and what for? Because Gormad thought his Rapscallion forces great enough to conquer Salamandastron. Aye, he tried to make cruel sport of us, the same way he has done to other more helpless creatures all his miserable life. It will not go on! Soon I will have made myself a new battlepike. If there is no news by then I intend to take half our warriors and go forth to seek out and destroy the evil that goes by the name Rapscallion. One day they will be nought but a bad memory in the minds of good and honest creatures. You have my oath on it!’

  Colonel Eyebright left the forge room in resigned silence. Nobeast could swerve the Lady Rose Eyes from her purpose once her mind was made up.

  Down in the dining hall Algador was taking supper with his friends, all young hares the same age as himself. Furgale tore into a large salad, speaking with his mouth full, as there were no officers present.

  ‘I say, chaps, when d’you suppose the lists’ll be posted for new recruits to the jolly ol’ Long Patrol?’

  Cheeva, a young female, flicked an oatcake crumb at him. ‘First mornin’ o’ summer my pater says. Hope my name’s on it. I’ll bet Algy’s top o’ the bloomin’ list, wot?’

  Algador sliced into a hefty carrot and celery flan. ‘Do you? I’ll pester the life out of Major Perigord until he takes me as Galloper with Riffle. I think I’m old enough to beat the ears off him in a flat run now!’

  Suddenly the room echoed with banging clanging noises, the din reverberating off the walls. Cheeva clapped paws to her ears, crying, ‘Great seasons o’ salad, who’s makin’ all the clatter?’

  Algador had to shout to make himself heard. He called to Colonel Eyebright, who was passing through on his way to the mess, ‘I say, sah, who’s creatin’ that infernal racket?’

  The Colonel stopped by their table, gesturing to them to stay seated. ‘Some badger or other at her forge, why don’t y’go up there an’ tell her to stop?’ He nodded at the smiling young faces turned towards him. ‘I’ve a feelin’ that you lot are goin’ to find yourselves Long Patrollin’ sooner than you think!’

  At this announcement the young hares cheered wildly, eyes aglow, fired with hope and desire. Heedless of what lay ahead.

  * * *

  17

  ‘BARRADUM! BARRADUM! BARRABUBBITYBUBBITYBOOM!’

  Russa peered bad temperedly from under the edge of a cloak which served her as a blanket. ‘Hoi, drumface, pack it in, willyer!’

  Rubbadub marched over, his fat face wreathed in morning smiles. Placing a plate of hot food in front of the half-
awake squirrel he brought his cheerful features right up to her nose. ‘Boom! Boom!’

  Tammo and the rest of the column laughed, spooning down an early breakfast of barleymeal mixed with honey and hazelnuts.

  Sergeant Torgoch did a very good imitation of a motherly female. ‘Come on, sleepyhead, rise an’ shine, the mornin’s fine, the lark’s in the air an’ all is fair, the day’s begun, look there’s the sun!’

  Midge Manycoats skipped about like a Dibbun. ‘Oh, mummy, may I go out an’ play? I’ll pick some daisies for you!’

  Torgoch’s voice dropped back to that of a gruff patrol Sergeant. ‘Siddown an’ finish yer brekkfist, you useless liddle omadorm, or I’ll ’ave yore paws pickled for a season’s ’ard marchin’!’

  Wiping his lips on a spotless white kerchief, Perigord buckled on his sabre and flexed his footpaws. ‘Listen up, troop, we’re marchin’ due south. Exercise extreme caution out on the flatlands an’ keep y’r eyes peeled for vermin. When the blighters have recovered their nerve I wouldn’t be surprised if they chance another crack at us, wot!’

  Equipment was packed away into haversacks and weapons brought to the ready as the Sergeant harangued them. ‘Right, you ’eard the h’officer, form up an’ stir yer stumps now!’

  Grasshoppers rustled and bees hummed about early flowering saxifrage and heathers, and the sun shone boldly from a sky of cloudless blue. It was a glorious spring morning on the open moorland. Tammo strode along between Russa and Pasque; the squirrel had her stick, and both hares carried loaded slings. Up in front, Perigord conversed easily with Riffle, though his eyes roved restlessly over the landscape. ‘Pretty clear tracks, eh wot? Seems they ain’t bothered about coverin’ their trail, I’d say.’

  ‘Aye, sir, mebbe they’ll try somethin’ when we reach that rocky-lookin’ hill up ahead.’

  The Major kept his eyes front as he answered, ‘Hmm, or that little outcrop to the left . . . Down troop!’

  An arrow zipped through them like an angry hornet as they threw themselves to the ground. Lieutenant Morio bounced up immediately. ‘Just one of ’em, sah. There he goes!’

  The sniper, a rat with bow and quiver, had broken cover and was racing towards the rock-rifted hill. Perigord sat up, his jaw tight with anger as he saw a rip the shaft had torn on the shoulder of his stylish green velvet tunic.

  ‘Just look at that, the blinkin’ cad! Drop the blighter, Rock.’

  Rockjaw Grang set shaft to a longbow that resembled a young tree. He squinted along the arrow, stretching the flexible yew bow into a wide arc, tracking his quarry.

  The rat halted, relieved he was not being chased. He unslung his bow and began coolly choosing an arrow. Rockjaw’s shaft took him out like a thunderbolt.

  The giant hare shook his head at the fallen rat’s foolishness. ‘Yon vermin should’ve kept a runnin’. ‘Ey up, there’s more!’

  Four more broke cover to the right from behind a low rise; shooting off a few slingstones at the hares, they began dashing for the hilltop. Regardless of what orders they had been given, the vermin did not want to be caught out alone by the hares.

  Perigord turned to Twayblade and Riffle. ‘Cut ’em off, try an’ take one alive! Rockjaw, you an’ Midge cover the hill. The rest of you – about face!’

  Tammo shot Russa a puzzled glance. ‘About face?’

  Sergeant Torgoch grabbed Tammo and spun him around roughly. ‘Don’t question orders, young ’un, do like the h’officer sez!’

  A band of vermin poured out of the woodland towards them. Tammo and Pasque whirled their slings as Perigord called out, ‘On my command, two slings, arrows, or one javelin, then go at ’em with a will. Steady now, let the blighters get closer . . .’

  Tammo felt his teeth begin to chatter. He ground them tight together and caused his head to start shaking. The vermin faces were plainly visible now, painted red with some kind of mineral dye. Yelling, roaring and brandishing fearsome weapons, they rushed forward, paws pounding the earth. Perigord levelled his sabre at them, remarking almost casually, ‘Let ’em have it, chaps!’

  Tammo’s first slingshot missed altogether; in his excitement he whipped the sling too high. His second shot took a weasel slap on the paw, causing him to drop his spear with a yelp. Then Tammo found himself charging with the Long Patrol, the war cry of the perilous hares ripping from his throat along with his comrades. Even Russa was shouting.

  ‘Eulaliaaaaa! ‘S death on the wind! Eulaliaaaaaa!’

  They met with a clash, Perigord slaying the leading pair before they could blink an eye. Tammo thrust out at a stoat and missed; the stoat feinted with his cutlass, and as Tammo backed off his foe skipped forward and tripped him. The young hare fell. He saw the stoat launch himself in a flying leap, cutlass first. Levering himself swiftly aside, Tammo kept his paw outstretched with the dirk pointed upward. The stoat landed heavily on the blade.

  Pulling his blade free, Tammo scrambled up, only to find the vermin fleeing with Long Patrol hares hard on their heels.

  Major Perigord and Rubbadub came marching up, the former cleaning his sabre on a pawful of dried grass. ‘Well done, young ’un, got y’self one I see!’

  Tammo could not look at the vermin he had slain, and his head began shaking again as he tried to face the Major.

  Shrugging off his tunic, Perigord inspected the torn shoulder. ‘I know how y’feel, Tamm, but he’d have got you if you hadn’t got him. Here, see.’

  He retrieved the stoat’s cutlass and pointed to the notches carved into the wooden handle. ‘Count ’em, tell me how many you make it.’

  Tammo took the weapon and counted the notches. ‘Eighteen, sir!’

  Perigord took the blade and flung it away with a grimace of distaste. ‘Aye, eighteen, though they weren’t all fightin’ beasts like you an’ me, laddie buck. Those smaller notches you saw were for the very old or the very young, creatures too weak to defend themselves. Don’t waste your sympathy on scum like that one. Come on now, stop shakin’ like tadpole jelly an’ give us a good ol’ De Fformelo Tussock smile. Rubbadub, beat ’em over to that hill yonder, we’ll form up there.’

  Rubbadub’s pearly teeth flashed in a huge grin as he marched off drumming the Long Patrol to him.

  ‘Drrrubadubdub drrrubadubdub dubbity dubbity dub. Baboom!’

  Perigord and Tammo stared at one another for a moment then burst into laughter.

  The patrol squatted on the hilltop, Pasque Valerian tending to one or two minor injuries that had been received. Twayblade swished the air regretfully with her long rapier. ‘Sorry we didn’t take any prisoners, Major, but those vermin weren’t takin’ any prisoners either the way they were fightin’, so me’n’Riffle had to give as good as we jolly well got.’

  Perigord watched from the hilltop as the remaining vermin grew small in the afternoon distance. ‘No matter, old gel, we can still track ’em. As long as we cut ’em off before they reach Redwall Abbey. What d’you make o’ those villains, Russa, pretty sharp thinkers, wot?’

  The squirrel munched on an apple, nodding. ‘Aye, ’twas a clever move they made. Clear tracks to this hill, then they must’ve split up a couple of hours afore dawn an’ circled back. Leavin’ a few to the left’n’right to distract us, the rest of the crafty scum went back to the woodland so they could ambush us from be’ind. Knowin’ we’d be expectin’ them to be waitin’ for us, hidin’ about here on this hilltop.’

  Rockjaw Grang was watching the retreating vermin and counting their numbers. ‘Sithee, there’s still enough o’ yon beasts to make a scrap. They must’ve numbered fifty or more when we first met ’em, sir. By my count they still got’n thirty-two.’

  ‘Hardly enough for eleven bold chaps’n’chappesses like us,’ Riffle snorted scornfully. ‘Thirteen if y’count Tamm an’ Russa. I say, thirteen, is that unlucky?’

  Lieutenant Morio stood up, dusting off his paws. ‘Aye, unlucky for them when we catch up with ’em. Everybeast fit now, Pasque?’

  The beautiful young h
are was closing her medicine pouch up. ‘Yes, Midge took a slight cheek wound and Turry nearly lost the tip of an ear. I’ve seen to them both. Now there’s only the Major’s jacket, but I can do that this evening.’

  The twins, Tare and Turry, ragged Tammo unmercifully.

  ‘Heehee! Lookit the long face on ole Tamm!’

  ‘Bet he wishes he’d been wounded, just so’s Pasque could bandage him up an’ bathe his brow a bit!’

  ‘If I were him I’d chop me nose off, that’d get her attention!’

  ‘Aye, she’d say, goodness nose, what’ve they done to your handsome hooter. Hahahaha!’

  Pasque joined in the fun. Grabbing Turry she began rebandaging his ear fiercely. ‘Hello, what’s this ear? Goodness knows, your bandage has come loose. Here, let me tie it a bit more snugly!’

  Turry squeaked as he tried to get away. ‘Ow ow! You’ve cut off all the blood to me ear! Stoppit!’

  Sergeant Torgoch loomed over the playful young ones. ‘Now then, young sirs an’ miss, I’ll cut off all yore ears an’ cook ’em for me supper if yore not all formed up an’ ready t’march two ticks from now. Up on yore paws, you idle lot! Where d’you think y’are – on an ’oliday for ’ares? Move y’selves!’

  Pasque marched at the rear with Tammo. She smiled and waved to the Sergeant. To Tammo’s surprise, he smiled and winked at her.

  Tammo scratched his ear, completely puzzled. ‘Is he always like that, shoutin’ one moment an’ smiling the next?’

  ‘Sergeants are all the same,’ the young hare chuckled. ‘Bark’s worse than their bite. Torgoch is my favourite Sergeant, he’s always there to look out for you if you get in any trouble.’

  * * *

  18

  THE REMAINDER OF the day went smoothly enough, with the patrol following the vermin track steadily. Late afternoon brought them to the banks of quite a sizeable river. Major Perigord halted them within sight of it.

  They crouched in a patch of fern, viewing the scene ahead. Through a screen of weeping willow, elder, sycamore and holm oak the river made a welcoming sight, with patches of sun-burnished water showing amid cool islands of tree shade. Tammo was wondering why they had halted and concealed themselves, when he heard Perigord and Twayblade discussing their next move.