a sling that held a large herbal pad to the shoulder. On seeing the Major, Tammo was able to say only one word.
“Russa?”
Perigord’s normally languid face was pale and drawn as he nodded toward the cave. Breaking free of Torgoch and
Pasque, the young hare staggered into the little chamber. A strange scene confronted him. Lieutenant Mono, with a
bandage ’round his face that ran beneath his chin and ended in a bow between his ears, was nursing a tiny badger.
Looking for all the world like an old harewife, he placed a paw to his lips.
“Sshh! I’ve just got him t’sleep!”
In a corner there was a still form, covered by a ragged homespun blanket. Close to it, Russa, also wrapped in a
cloak, was sitting with her back against the sandstone wall. Tammo gave a deep sigh as he sat down next to his
squirrel friend.
“Whew! Thank the seasons you’re alive, mate!”
Russa blinked slowly through clouded eyes. “Not for long, young ’un. They hit me good this time—two arrows an’
a spear. But I gave good as I got, sent a few of ’em along in front t’pave the way for me.”
Tammo put a paw around the squirrel’s narrow shoulders. “Russa, don’t talk like that. You’ll be all right, honest,
you will!”
Russa Nodrey smiled, coughed a little, then swallowed as if clearing her throat. She took Tammo’s free paw,
saying, “None o’ your nonsense now, sit still an’ lissen t’me, Tamm. Tell yore mama I did the best I could, an’ if y’see
Osmunda again, tell ’er I sent my regards. Make yore family proud of you, Tamello De Fformelo Tussock, never do
anythin’ you’d be ashamed to tell ’em. One other thing: you don’t ’ave to be a Long Patroller if’n y’don’t want to.
Mebbe there’s other things y’do better.”
Russa stayed Tammo’s reply by squeezing his paw feebly. “Oh, I’ve seen you fight, Tamm, yore one o’ the best,
but you’ve ’ad a different upbringin’. You ain’t no slayer like those hares out there—at Salamandastron they’re
brought up to it.”
Tammo tried to choke back the tears that fell on Russa’s paw. “You’ll be fine, matey. I’ll tell Pasque to get all her
medicines an’ herbs an’ we’ll ...”
Russa managed to wink at him. “Medicines an’ herbs won’t do me no good now, Tamm. I wish you’d stop soakin’
me paws an’ carryin’ on like that. I’ve got other places t’go, I’ve always been a wanderer, so I wants t’see what ’tis
like on the sunny hillsides by the still meadows ....”
Outside the hares sat listening as Major Perigord related what had happened.
“Russa an’ meself were scoutin’ ahead when we heard roarin’ an’ screamin’. Of course it wasn’t the vermin doin’
the noisemakin’. We reckoned ’twould be innocent creatures captured by those villains, so we’d no choice except to
try an’ rescue ’em. On m’word, we ran straight into it! Thirty-odd assorted blackguards, tormentin’ an’ torturin’ an old
badger-wife an’ a babe. Scoundrels! We gave ’em a taste or two o’ their own medicine, I can tell you! Trouble was
that we were outnumbered by about eighteen t’one—they’d slain the old badger. Well, we fought ’em off best as we
could an’ I pulled the poor dead ol’ badger into the cave with the little ’un still clinging to her. Russa was protectin’
my back, that’s when she Itook two arrows. Then we turned and tried to hold ’em off, shoutin’ Eulalias like nobeast’s
business, hopin’ you chaps’d hear us. Sadly Russa took a spear through her middle, so I bundled her in the cave with
the badgers. That’s when I got the lance in me shoulder, took another few slashes too. Just look at me best green velvet
tunic. Good job you arrived when y’did. I was about ready to go under. By the by, did y’get ’em all?”
Twayblade took the tunic from her brother’s shoulders and inspected it. “Ripped t’bits, be a long time before you
get another like it. Ah, the vermin. Yes, they split up, but so did we, got ’em all barring one, a ferret, he escaped
through a swamp. I shouldn’t think a lone villain would bother the Red-wallers a good deal, wot?”
Sergeant Torgoch poured himself hot mint tea from the canteen by the fire. “Don’t think ’e would, marm. Some o’
those big otters that ’angs about the Abbey’d be only too glad to accommodate ’im, if’n ’e showed ’is nose ’round
there.”
Tammo came walking from the cave, dry-eyed and stone-faced.
“Russa Nodrey has just died, sah.” His voice trembled as he tried to be a soldier worthy of the Long Patrol, but
tears streamed down his face.
Perigord closed his eyes tightly and stood, head bowed.
That night they sealed up the cave with earth and rock. On the front of the pile, Rockjaw Grang placed a huge flat
slab, which Tammo and Pasque had worked on, scraping deep into the sandstone with knifepoints a simple message:
Russa Nodrey and an unknown badger lie within. They died fighting for freedom against cruelty. Seasons may
pass, but we will remember them.
The baby badger slept on, between Pasque and Tammo, wriggling in his slumbers to get closer to them. Tammo
had never seen a badger before; he stroked the infant, glad to have a creature near who knew nothing of killing and
war before that day.
26
Beneath the Abbey’s south wall, Foremole Diggum and his team held the lanterns out over the underground
cavern. Holding on to the moles’ digging claws, Tansy and Arven leaned out at the edge of the shored-up timber
platform that the moles had built at the end of the small tunnel down which they had come. They peered down into the
shadowy depths of what appeared to be a huge abyss, wide, dark, and mysterious.
Far below them water could be heard. Foremole tossed a turnip-sized boulder into the yawning chasm. They
listened, but only silence followed.
Tansy turned to the solemn-faced mole leader. “Where has that rock gone to?” she asked.
Her question was followed by an echoing distant splash. Foremole shook his head gravely. “Daown thurr
summwhurrs, marm, hurr, that’n be’s a gurt deep ’ole.”
They stood awhile, then Tansy backed off the platform gingerly. “Dear me, that’s enough of that! It’s like looking
down from a high building and not seeing the ground. I was beginning to feel quite woozy!”
Foremole Diggum and his crew assisted her back to the surface, offering his irrefutable mole logic as he lit their
way. “Urr, ’tis better feelin’ woozed up on furm ground for gennel beasts such as ee, marm. Oi thinks us’n’s be
’appier talkin’ abowt et all in ee Abbey, thurr be things oi’ve gotter say regardin’ yon gurt ’ole!”
Intrigued by Foremole’s words, they all followed him indoors.
On entering the Abbey, Tansy walked straight into a dispute that had broken out in the kitchens. Amid much paw-
wagging and whisker-twitching, the Abbess placed herself between the dormouse Pellit and a sturdy squirrel called
Butty, whom Mother Buscol was training in the ways of the kitchen. Both creatures argued fiercely, glaring truculently
at each other.
“I won’t be able to get on with me work, she’ll be in the way!”
“Work? Huh, when did you ever work? You spend half y’time sleepin’ on empty veggible sacks by the back
oven!”
“You young skipwaggle, keep a civil tongue in yer head when yore talkin’ to elders’n’betters!”
“Listen, you might be older’n me, but we’ll soon find out who’s better if you call me a skipwaggle again!”
Tansy grabbed a copper ladle and struck it on a cooking pot with a resounding clang. “Silence, please, this instant!