Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Doogy did an elaborate bow. “Thank ye, old boy, old lad, old chap, wot wot, an’ toodly blinkin’ pip, eh!”

Tam walked alongside them, laughing. “You sounded just like Ferdimond then, mate.”

Doogy straightened his cap, tugging at his eartips. “Aye, well ah’ve decided tae become a hare, ye know.”

Ferdimond scoffed. “You, a bally hare? Right, then I’ll be a Highland squirrel. How’d that suit ye?”

Tam shook his head. “Go on, let’s hear ye then.”

Ferdimond adopted Doogy’s truculent swagger comically. “Och the noo, ah like a wee stroll tae the woods on a misty day, ’cos ah cannae dash aboot like yon wee hare.”

He looked at them trying to keep their faces straight. “Come on, you chaps, how did I do? The truth now!”

Tam burst into gales of laughter as Doogy complained indignantly, “Ach, if ah sounded like that ah would’ve swam oot intae the sea an’ drownded mahself long since!”

Ferdimond replied huffily, “Really, is that a fact? Well, if I sounded like you did tryin’ to imitate me, I’d have begged that Gulo chap to scoff me pretty sharpish!”

They continued ragging and making good-humoured fun of one another as they marched. The mist began lifting in the early noon, and Tam spotted the treeline ahead. “Keep it down now, mates. We don’t need to advertise our presence to any foebeasts who might be around. We’ll split up now and circle in from three ways. Doogy, take the left, I’ll take the right. Ferdy, you go straight in but keep yore eyes peeled, mate. See you both by that big old alder tree yonder. Good luck.”

They reached the alder with no untoward happenings. Tam picked up the vermin trail. “They went this way. Can you track these marks, Ferdy?”

The hare unsheathed his long rapier. “ ’Course I can. They look pretty plain t’me, Tam. But why d’you want me to track, wot?”

Doogy could not help sounding slightly self-satisfied. “Because, mah lanky friend, we’ll be takin’ tae the trees. Us squirrels are fair speedy beasts up in yon foliage. Bein’ a groundcrawler, you’ll have tae stay down here, auld boy!”

Tam sprang up into the buckthorns. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep in touch with you. The mist is gone now. We can see more from up here. Take care, Ferdy.”

Doogy chuckled maliciously. “Aye, an’ don’t ye go trippin’ up an’ fallin’ over now.”

The woodlands were still and eerily silent as Ferdimond made his way forward. There was neither wind nor breeze, but the drizzle had collected on branch and leaf. It plopped and dropped in the stillness, until Ferdimond was wet through. But he followed the trail dutifully until he came into a glade, where Tam and Doogy were waiting for him.

The young hare looked around. “Feathers everywhere! They must’ve slaughtered quite a few birds, confounded savages!”

Tam ran his dirkpoint through the ashes of a fire. “This ain’t properly out, see? Look at the half-finished bird there, and the broken eggs, too. It looks to me like these vermin left here in a big hurry, eh Doogy?”

His companion picked up a broken shell necklace and a pouch of slingstones. “Aye, ah wonder why they went in such a haste, Tam.”

The warrior squirrel began climbing into a nearby oak. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Doogy, you stay here and keep yore eyes open. Ferdy, time for ye t’do a spot of gallopin’. Make it back t’the patrol an’ tell the Brigadier what’s happenin’. It may be important.”

Tam dropped his shield to the ground so he would not be impeded. A moment later he was whipping through the middle terraces to the north. As he travelled, it was quite easy to track the vermin trail below. Gulo and his band had pushed forward heedlessly, breaking twigs, flattening shrubbery and generally leaving a broad path. It was well into noontide when Tam heard the vermin up ahead. A little further and he would have them in sight. He halted in the broad limbs of a chestnut tree to catch his breath and check his blades. Tam knew that when he reached the vermin, silence would be essential. Wrapping his plaid cloak into a tight bundle about his shoulder, he adjusted the claymore in his belt so that it could be quickly drawn.

There was a faint rustle of leaves from above, in the top branches of the chestnut. Before Tam could raise his eyes to look up, he was hit forcibly by a descending object and knocked out of the tree.

15

Abbot Humble was playing make-believe tea with the Dibbuns. He enjoyed being with the little ones, joining in their games and listening to their baby talk. Mimsie the mousebabe served him with an invisible platter, supposedly full of goodies.

Humble beamed delightedly. “Oh my, these look nice, I like fresh scones!”

Mimsie scowled. “They not sconeses, them’s cream an’ stawb’y cake wot I jus’ maked!”

The Abbot apologised. “Oh, I’m sorry. My old eyes aren’t so good anymore, you know. Cream and strawberry cake, my favourite! Have we got some sweet cordial to drink with it?”

Perkle the hogbabe passed him an imaginary beaker. “No, farver, this bee’s boiled nekkle h’ale!”

Mudge the molebabe winked broadly at Humble. “Yurr, zurr, but doan’t ee tell Sis h’Armel. She’m say Dibbuns shuddent drink boiled nekkle h’ale.”

Humble nodded seriously. “I won’t breathe a word, promise. Boiled nettle ale, eh? Mmmm, tastes good, I like it!”

Perkle squeaked out a warning. “Farver, ’ide it quick. Sis Armel bee’s comin’!”

Sister Armel and Brooky came hurriedly into the dormitory, where the Abbot was playing with the Dibbuns. The pretty Infirmary Keeper could not keep the urgency out of her voice. “Father Abbot, I must speak to you immediately in private. It’s very important!”

Humble carried on pretending, putting both paws behind his back as if hiding the boiled nettle ale. “Right, Sister, just give me a moment, please.”

He whispered to the Dibbuns, “You’d better go and have tea down on the lawn so that Sister Armel doesn’t see the ale.”

Touching paws to snouts secretly, the Dibbuns nodded. They loaded the make-believe meal onto a make-believe trolley and began solemnly trundling it away.

Brooky called after them, “Save some o’ that boiled nettle ale for us, you greedy villains!”

As the Dibbuns clattered out of the dormitory, giggling mischievously, Humble turned to the squirrel and ottermaid, shaking his head. “Cream and strawberry cake with boiled nettle ale? Whatever next! What can I do for you, young Armel?”

The pretty squirrel explained her sudden visit. “When we were in the orchard, solving the puzzle, I suddenly felt drowsy. It must have been only for a moment. Father, I don’t know whether you’ll believe this, but Martin the Warrior appeared to me.”

Humble looked into Armel’s innocent brown eyes. “Why should I doubt you, my child? Did our Warrior speak?”

She nodded emphatically. “He did, though I completely forgot I’d even seen him until a short while ago. Brooky and I were passing through Great Hall when I saw Martin’s picture on the tapestry. Then it all came back to me like a flash!”

The ottermaid laughed. “Oohahaha! Very exciting, isn’t it?”

Humble silenced her with a mild glance. “Tell me, Armel, what did Martin the Warrior say to you?”

Armel remembered everything clearly. “He said he knew me, and that was why he chose me. Then he spoke these lines.

My sword must be carried by maidens two:

one who sees laughter in all, and you.

Bear it southwest through Mossflower Wood,