Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

to he who pursues the vermin Lord.

The Borderer who is a force for good,

that warrior who sold and lost his sword.”

Humble folded both paws into his wide habit sleeves. “Did he say any more?”

Armel sighed. “No, Father, that was all. What should I do?”

The Abbot pondered for a while, then made his decision. “Go and find my cousin, Hitheryon Jem. Brooky, you will seek out your uncle Skipper. Bring them both to the gatehouse. We need to discuss this matter urgently.”

Jem was rather grumbly as he followed Armel across the sunlit lawns to the gatehouse. “Great seasons, ain’t there no rest for a poor ole body? I’m scarce out of a good warm tub an’ into a clean robe when I’m bein’ marched outdoors through the grounds. A beast of my seasons could catch cold, y’know!”

Armel patted his paw as they came to the gatehouse door. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll take no harm, sir. It’s not me who wants you here, it’s your cousin, the Abbot.”

Jem opened the door. “Humble? Oh, that’s different, missy. Why didn’t ye say?”

The young Sister smiled. “I did, but you probably forgot.”

Skipper and Brooky were already there, as was Humble and Gordale the Gatekeeper. Friar Glisum arrived unexpectedly, bearing with him a sliced pie of damsons and honey with a container of his own special pear and redcurrant wine.

He popped his head around the door with the air of a conspirator, commenting, “Hope you don’t mind me joining you. I saw you all hurrying here, and it made me rather curious.”

Humble beckoned him inside. “Come in, Friar. Sit down there and listen carefully, all of you. Sister Armel has something to say. Sister?”

Armel took a deep breath and recounted her experience. When she had finished, the Abbot looked from one to the other. “Well, what do you think, friends?”

Skipper of Otters was first to venture an opinion. “I was ’oping that all last winter an’ right through the spring, ’til now, that this wouldn’t ’appen, Father, but it looks like it must be, eh Jem?”

The old hedgehog answered sadly, “Aye, Skip. This Abbey’s a sizeable buildin’, stickin’ out like a bandaged paw twixt the woodlands an’ flatlands. Stands t’reason that any vermin gang in this part o’ the country is bound to sight it.”

Brother Gordale caught the hedgehog’s drift. “You mean that creature Gulo the Savage and his followers?”

Humble went to the little gatehouse window. There he stood, gazing out at the sunlit lawns and the Abbey building. “We were hoping, Skipper and I, that maybe they’d miss us somehow and go off on a different course. But if I read Martin the Warrior’s message correctly, it seems that Redwall is in danger. Why else would he send us this warning through Sister Armel? One thing, though. Before we go any further, I must ask. Are we all agreed to act upon this?”

Brooky’s sudden laughter made Gordale jump. “Whooohahahoo! We’d be real puddenheads if we didn’t.”

Skipper silenced his niece by treading on her rudder. “Young Brookflow’s right. She’s noisy, but right. So then, Father, what d’ye suggest?”

Humble placed a paw on the otter chieftain’s shoulder. “I say we should carry out Martin’s words to the letter. That is, if Armel and Brooky are willing to undertake the task. As to anything else, I tell you truly. I am only a Cellarhog who was fortunate enough to become Father Abbot of Redwall. As such, I am concerned with its safety, and all the creatures within who are under my care. I know nothing of the ways of war or defence. I have always entrusted those matters to you, Skipper.”

The burly otter bowed slightly. “Thankee, friend, I wouldn’t ’ave it any other way. Now then, Sister Armel, will you carry out the task Martin has sent ye? An’ you, too, Brookflow, ’cos yore the one who sees laughter in all, an’ yore a maid, too. So?”

The Infirmary Sister took Brooky’s paw. “I’ll go if you come with me.”

The sturdy ottermaid giggled with embarrassment. “Heeheeheehee, just you try and stop me!”

Skipper ruffled his niece’s head fondly. Unwinding a sling from his waist, he gave it to her with a full pebble bag. “Take good care o’ this, ye scallywag. ’Tis me best sling. I want ye to take good care o’ Sister Armel, too!”

Brooky helped herself to a slice of the friar’s pie. “Nice sling, nunky Skip. Of course I’ll take care of Armel. If I don’t, you can load me into this sling an’ chuck me out the attic window. Hahahahaha!”

Armel gave her a playful shove. “Don’t worry, Skip, we’ll look out for each other. When do we go?”

Jem looked up from the deep armchair he was occupying. “Travel by night is best. Stick to the shadows on the pathside an’ don’t make any noise. Me’n ole Walt should be goin’ along with ye by rights, but the seasons are weighin’ too ’eavy on us now, an’ we’d be slowin’ ye down, missy.”

Skipper bit his lip, looking a bit worried. “I could hunt out a few o’ my otter mateys. Them stayin’ close by both of ye wouldn’t go amiss. Couple o’ big coves with javelins.”

However, Armel would not hear of this. “Definitely not, but thank you, Skip. Martin was quite clear who should go: ‘My sword must be carried by maidens two, one who sees laughter in all, and you.’ I would not risk disobeying the word of Martin the Warrior. We will leave tonight after supper. The directions are also quite clear—southwest through Mossflower Wood, until we find the Borderer who is a force for good. Right, Brooky?”

The ottermaid nodded cheerily. “Correct. We’re out to deliver Martin’s sword to this Borderer cove. ‘That warrior who sold and lost his sword.’ Bit careless of him, wasn’t it? Hope he doesn’t lose Martin’s sword. Hohohohoho!”

Skipper glared at Brooky so fiercely that she quailed. “Don’t even think of it, Brookflow!”

Supper that evening was served in Great Hall, the tables laid out beneath Martin’s tapestry. Both maids were the centre of attention. It seemed that every Redwaller wanted to give them gifts, either knowledgeable information or equipment for their journey.

“Yurr, marm, take ee moi likkle dagger, h’it bee’s gurtly sharp. An’ take ee moi ole granfer’s cloak, too!”

“Remember now, if ye see any vermin, don’t stop to talk with the nasty sly brutes. You just run off, fast as y’can!”

Humble cast an amused glance at Armel. “I think you and Brooky will leave here with more information than your heads can carry, and more clothing, food and weapons than your paws can bear, eh Sister?”

Armel put aside a lucky pebble, which had been donated by Mudge the molebabe. “Aye, Father, but everything is given in friendship and with good heart. How can we refuse them?”

Wandering Walt whispered to her, “Doan’t ee fret, marm. Give ’em all to oi. Oi’ll give ee h’all ee gifts back on yore safe return, hurr aye.”

Brooky interrupted. “Thankee, Walt. How’s the footpaw, still split? Maybe it’ll split altogether. Then you’ll have three footpaws. Hahahaha!”

Old Walt chuckled. “Nay, marm, oi spreaded et with ee h’ointment from Sister’s affirmery. ’Tis foine now. Oi’m gurtly taken with ee affirmery medicines, they’m gudd.”

Armel took a quick peep at Walt’s footpaw. “Well done, sir! Perhaps you’d like to fill in as Infirmary Keeper while I’m away?”

The ancient mole beamed with pleasure. “Thankee gurtly, Sister. ’Twould be noice to ’old such an ’igh posishun!”

Brooky raised her goblet to him. “Listen everybeast, this good mole is our new healer. From now on, he will be known as Sister Walt. Hahahahaha!”

Foremole Bruffy called out, “Yurr Sister, can ee cure moi blister? If’n ee do, oi’ll give ee a gurt kiss. Hurrhurrhurr!”