High Rhulain

A stout lance corporal chuckled. “Hawhaw, that’s the stuff to give him, cookie, you tell the blighter. Hawhawhaw!”

He withered under the sergeant’s icy stare. “Ye’ve never tasted my lance corporal pie, have ye? One more remark from you, young Flibber, an’ I’ll send a slice home to yore mother!”

The food was excellent and the portions enormous. Tiria was relieved to be sitting by Cuthbert, who devoured everything she nudged to within his paw range. Not a crumb that came near the gluttonous hare was spared.

“Good show, wot! The old mountain pie, ain’t tasted that in a blinkin’ badger’s age, wot!”

He dealt rapidly with summer salad, baked mushroom and turnip flan, cheese and carrot turnover, barley and leek soup and a plate of potato and chestnut pasties. Licking crumbs from his whiskers, Cuthbert began chivvying the servers for dessert.

Lord Mandoral eyed Tiria with obvious approval. “I was right, you are truly a High Queen, Tiria Wildlough.”

With a downcast gaze, the ottermaid mumbled, “I’m a queen without a crown. I failed miserably at that wreck today, sir. It was a disaster!”

Her paw was enveloped by the big badger’s own. “Nonsense, you were very brave! Huh, just the thought of you down there in the dark depths, battling with a monster, made my blood run cold. I don’t mind telling you, it’s not a thing I would have fancied attempting. But you went to it without a second thought. Mark my words, miss, that was the true sign of a leader, a real warrior!”

When dinner was over, the usual din of rowdy ballads and loud jokes broke out. This was halted by a big, barrel-chested hare. Colour Sergeant O’Cragg had a thunderous voice.

“H’atten . . . shun! Silence h’in the ranks, ye gobboons! Milord Mandoral ’as the floor. Sah!”

Staying seated, the badger made his announcement. “At noon tomorrow, Major Blanedale Frunk will be sailing for Green Isle. His purpose, to establish Lady Tiria Wildlough in her rightful position as queen there!”

Tiria looked about to say something, but a forbidding glance from Captain Granden bade her to hold any questions.

Mandoral paused, his eyes roving the mess. “There will be some opposition to this move from vermin foebeasts, wildcats, I am led to believe. Therefore, I would be remiss in my duty, sending the Lady with only Major Frunk and a hawk for protection. Major, how many of our Long Patrol could your vessel accommodate?”

Cuthbert’s ears twitched pensively. “Hmm, let me see, sah. The Petunia could take a limit of twoscore. But if ye count weapons, vittles an’ all that tackle, I’d say a score’n a half safely, Milord.”

Mandoral had no reason to doubt the old hare’s estimate. “A score and a half it is, then. Captain Granden, you’ll command when they reach Green Isle. Please select thirty hares for the task. Mind, I only want seasoned warriors, the best our Long Patrol can offer.”

Every hare in the mess sat stiffly to attention, each longing to be chosen for the mission. Captain Granden drew his long rapier and began striding slowly between the tables. He tapped the chosen ones on the shoulder with his blade, naming them.

“Colour Sergeant O’Cragg, Master Sergeant Bann, Corporal Drubblewick, Lieutenant Sagetip. . . .”

He continued until he had the required number. Tiria saw her two subalterns sitting with moist eyes, the very pictures of dejection. Standing up, she called out, “Excuse me, Cap’n Rafe. I’d like to take Quartle and Portan along with me to Green Isle.”

Granden shook his head vigourously. “Not possible I’m afraid, m’Lady. They’re both too young!”

Tiria objected. “How can you say that? They’re about the same age as I am!”

Mandoral interrupted. “You heard the captain, Lady. He’s in charge of the expedition. If he says they’re too young, then you must take his decision as final.”

The ottermaid looked from the Badger Lord to the captain. Aware that everybeast in the mess was watching her keenly, she drew herself up regally and spoke out firmly. “If I am to become Queen of Green Isle, I have to learn to make my own decisions. I say the subalterns will go!”

Granden’s face hardened. Thrusting out his jaw, he responded firmly, “I have made my choice, miz, and it stands. They stay!”

Tiria sat down slowly. Her reply was somewhat cool and distant. “Then I stay, too. That is my decision, Captain.”

In the awed silence which followed, Granden looked in bewilderment to Mandoral, whose booming laugh broke the suspense. “Hohoho! You don’t disobey a queen, Captain. I think you should defer to Her Majesty.”

Granden locked eyes with Tiria, staring hard at her. Not to be intimidated, she stared back just as hard. Suddenly the glimmer of a smile twitched the stern captain’s lips. He bowed elegantly and sheathed his rapier.

“As you wish, Milady. The subalterns sail with us!”

Thunderous cheers and loud applause rang out for Tiria. Quartle and Portan hastened to her side, grinning madly.

“I say, stifle me flamin’ scut, miz. Top hole, well done!”