High Rhulain

The high-pitched call of an osprey brought Tiria bolt upright. She saw Pandion swoop gracefully in to join Cuthbert upstream. Everybeast hurried to hear what Pandion had to report. Casting a fierce eye about, the fish hawk spread his wings dramatically.

“Yeekaharr! Pandion Piketalon has found the cats and riverdogs. They will soon battle!”

Cuthbert’s ears stood up straight at the mention of a fight. “A battle ye say, sah? Where at? Out with it, at the double!”

The osprey flapped his huge wingspread. “Arreeekaaah! At the big tree fort by the long lake. The cats are well dug in there. ’Twill be a hard fight I think!”

Captain Rafe Granden drew his blade. “We’re obliged to ye, goodbird, an’ more’n pleased if ye can lead us t’the jolly old field of combat, wot?”

Cuthbert’s eye was glinting wildly through his monocle. “Rather, I’d be distinctly ticked off if I missed a blinkin’ fullscale scrap! Sarn’t O’Cragg, get the Patrol formed up in skirmishin’ order! C’mon, me lucky lads, off your hunkers an’ on your paws. Quick’s the word an’ sharp’s the action!”

The Patrol had to move rapidly to keep up with Cuthbert, who was already off at a swift trot, following the osprey. Quartle nudged Tiria.

“I say, miss, just look at Ole Blood’n’guts. He can’t wait to get in the middle of it all!”

The ottermaid patted her sling and stonepouch. “Neither can I, friend!”

“I am thinking you will be waiting for me. I need a rest after my long journey!”

Tiria was startled to see Brantalis flying just above her head. The barnacle goose looked about ready to drop.

“Brantalis, my friend, what are you doing here?”

The big bird flopped down to earth. Captain Rafe Granden, who was running rearguard, caught up with Tiria.

“What’n the name o’ seasons is a blinkin’ goose doin’ in the middle of a forced march?”

Tiria came straight to the defence of her friend. “I don’t know, Cap’n, but he’s come a long way to be with me, so it must be something important.”

The barnacle goose raised his weary head from the grass. “I come from the Abbey of Redwall to see this maid.”

Captain Granden twiddled his long ears in admiration. “I say, well done that, bird, wot! Right, then see her y’must, but we can’t halt the march. Subalterns Quartle an’ Portan, fall out! You two buckoes stay here with Lady Tiria an’ this bird. We’re carryin’ on to the field o’ battle. Afraid you’ll have to catch us up later, marm!”

Tiria nodded. “Thank you, Cap’n. Don’t worry, we’ll find you once our business here is done.”

Granden smiled and threw a hasty salute. “Oh, you’ll find us, marm. Just march t’the sound o’ the Eulalias, that’s where the Long Patrol will be!” He sped off after the other hares.

Tiria gave Brantalis a drink from Portan’s canteen and sat down by his side. “Take your time now. What news from the Abbey?”

Brantalis drank greedily before making his report. “I am thinking there is much news, but that can wait for a better time. Your father the Skipper, the Abbess and the Old Quelt beast sent me here to deliver this. I have not broken flight once since I left Redwall.”

Bending his neck forward, the goose used his bill to delve among the thick downy plumage, where his neck broadened to meet his body. He had some difficulty trying to move the object which was ringed around the thick base of his throat. Brantalis grumbled, “I am thinking this was easier to put on than to get off!”

Quartle gallantly offered his help. “Straighten your neck. Chin up, I mean beak up, old lad. I’ve got the confounded thing!”

Portan assisted him in moving the coronet from about the bird’s neck. Both hares gasped in wonderment.

“Oh my giddy aunt’s pinny, it’s a bloomin’ crown!”

“No it ain’t, Porters, it’s a wotsisname . . . a tiara!”

“Isn’t that the confounded thing that was supposed to have gone down with the jolly old ship?”

“Well here it is, old lad, Tiria’s tiara. I say, that’s pretty good, ain’t it? Tiria’s tiara!”

The ottermaid accepted it graciously from the two subalterns. “It’s called a coronet. Oh, Brantalis, how can I ever thank you? What a great friend you are!”

The barnacle goose ruffled his feathers back into place modestly. “You once helped me, I am thinking it was the least I could do to help you, Tiria Wildlough.”

Quartle and Portan began rubbing their paws gleefully.

“Well, go on, miss, put it on, wot wot!”

“Aye, let’s see if it fits your royal bonce, miss.”

Tiria took the simple gold circlet, with its inset stone which sparkled like green fire, and placed it lightly on her head. It fitted easily about her brow.

Brantalis stood and spread his wings. “I am thinking that was made for you!”

Portan flopped his ears, always a sign of admiration in hares. “By the left right’n’centre, miss, you really look the blinkin’ part now, wot!”

He was correct. With the addition of the coronet to the breastplate and cloak, Tiria looked unmistakably regal.

Quartle made an elegant, sweeping bow. “We are your most humble bloomin’ servants, Queen Tiria. Your wish is our flippin’ command, Majesty!”