Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

‘Come down,’ cried the otter, ‘an’ live here with me,

for ’tis cosy an’ warm an’ the rent is quite free.’

Left right! Two three! Down went the mole and his familee,

his wife an’ his grandpa an’ mole Dibbuns three!

The very same evenin’ there came a poor mouse,

who the wind an’ the rain had washed out of his house.

The otter took pity an’ cried out, ‘Come in,

you won’t take up much room, ’cos ye look pretty thin.’

Left right! Two three! The mouse went down right happily,

with five uncles, six aunts an’ a pet bumblebee!

Then who should turn up but a fat little flea,

he stood all alone there a sad sight to see.

He called down to the otter, ‘Move over a bit,

’cos I see a small space there where I might just fit.’

Left right! Two three! That’s a tale my mother told to me,

but I made up the bit about the flea, ’cos I’m a bigger liar than she!”

The white fox Captain Shard and his twenty assorted foxes and ermine were sitting on the ditch side, sucking woodpigeon eggs. Ferwul and Brugil, two of his forward scouts, had come across a number of nests, visible through the boughs of a sessile oak. The birds flew off when they began climbing the tree, leaving their nests and clusters of eggs at the vermin’s disposal.

Shard’s mate, Freeta, pierced an egg deftly with her claw and sucked it dry. Tossing the empty shell into the ditch, the vixen winked slyly at Shard. “A good spot to camp for the night, methinks?”

Shard chose a fresh egg. “Aye, but Lord Gulo ordered that we should travel both night and day to reach the Redwall place.”

Freeta snorted scornfully. “Lord Gulo, eh? Is Lord Gulo here watching thee? Look at those weary beasts! Ye need some rest, too. One night here will make little difference, Shard. Gulo need never know.”

Shard picked a piece of grit from between his pawpads. “Thou art right. We rest here tonight and continue on the morrow.”

He raised his voice to the ermine scouts. “Ferwul, Brugil! Take bows and arrows, go to those nests ye found an’ see if the birds have returned. The rest of ye, find someplace close by to rest until dawn.”

Both scouts went forward up the path to where they had found the nests in the oak. The rest of the vermin sought out sleeping places, grateful for the break they had been given. Shard was about to settle down in some ferns on the woodland side of the ditch, when the two ermine scouts came scurrying back. Both of them held paws to their mouths as a sign for everybeast to stay quiet.

Shard leaped the ditch in a single bound. He hissed to the pair, “What is it?”

Ferwul rubbed her paws gleefully. “Captain, two creatures, maids, comin’ hither—a streamdog an’ a treemouse. We saw them before they saw us!”

Shard gave orders in a hoarse whisper. “All of ye, down in the ditch. Be silent an’ look to thy weapons. Two beasts are coming. I want them taken alive!”

Armel and Brooky had finished singing, but they were still stepping along very well.

The squirrelmaid unwrapped her cloak and put it on. “It’s not as warm as it was this afternoon. When shall we sleep, d’you think?”

Brooky shrugged. “When we feel tired, I suppose, though we might as well keep going until we do.”

A slight sound from somewhere on the path behind them caused Armel to look back over her shoulder. Four ermine—two carrying spears, the other two with shafts notched to their bowstrings—stood on the path, watching them. She tugged at Brooky’s paw. “Look what’s behind us. . . .”

The ottermaid did not have to: four white foxes, armed with sickle-shaped swords, came out of the ditch to block their forward path.

Brooky whispered out the corner of her mouth, “I don’t have to, pal. Look what’s in front of us. Listen, when I give you a nod, we’ll cut and run into the woods!”

A voice sounded, close to the ottermaid. “Too late, streamdog. One move an’ ye are both deadbeasts!”

More vermin emerged from the ditch and the woodlands, surrounding Armel and Brooky. Captain Shard stepped out. “Take them and bind them tight!”

BOOK TWO

“The warrior who gained

a sword”

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

the drums are beatin’ braw.

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

Are ye marchin’ off tae war?

An’ who will stand wi’ Rakkety Tam,

tae win the King’s Royal Banner?

Wild Doogy Plumm the Highlander,

of rough an’ ready manner!

Those fighters o’ the Long Patrol,

have vowed tae give no quarter,

a-roarin’ blood’n’vinegar,

when chargin’ tae the slaughter!

17

As he was knocked from the tree, Tam glimpsed a fierce, gold-rimmed eye. Then powerful talons locked into the folds of his plaid cloak and great wings beat at his face. He was being attacked by a large bird. Together they whirled downward in a welter of feathers, fur and kilt. Fortunately, a lilac bush broke their fall. As they crashed into it, Tam managed to grab his sword, but only by the blade. The warrior squirrel and the bird rolled from the bush, fighting wildly. Tam pushed his free paw against the bird’s throat, trying to stop its fearsome hooked beak from going for his eyes. He slammed the claymore’s basket hilt hard over his adversary’s head, gaining himself a moment’s relief. Hurriedly he tore the cloak from his shoulders and flung it over the bird’s head, muffling its angry shrieks. Tam rapped the sword hilt sharply down on his assailant’s skull. Once, twice, thrice! Disentangling himself, the border squirrel scrambled upright just in time to see two vermin charging at him—a white fox wielding a sickle-curved sword and an ermine brandishing a spear.

Having heard the commotion, the fox and the ermine had dropped back from the rear of Gulo’s band to investigate.

Now the border warrior’s blood was up. He sprang at the fox, battering it backwards with his long heavy blade, whereupon it withered under his relentless force. After sweeping the fox’s blade aside, Tam swung, cleaving the vermin from ears to neck with one mighty stroke.

Spear poised, the ermine charged Tam from behind, but found himself confronted by the big bird, who had rid itself of the enveloping cloak. As the ermine ran by, the bird struck savagely with beak and talons, bringing the beast screeching to the ground. The ermine wriggled over, raising its spear for a killing thrust. But Tam turned like lightning, his blade slaying the vermin with a single blow. Panting and aching all over, the border warrior looked down at his dead enemies, then stared up into the questioning eyes of a huge male goshawk.

The bird clacked its black-tipped beak together abruptly. “Eekrah! Why vermin kill vermin?”

Tam kept his claymore at the ready, lest the hawk renew its assault upon him. “I’m no vermin, they are my enemies. Why did ye attack me? I was doin’ ye no harm!”

The goshawk preened its barred chest feathers. “Hahaaak! Tergen thought you vermin. No talk now, more vermin come soon. Hide, hide, come!”

Judging this to be sensible advice, Tam followed Tergen. The goshawk hobbled along swiftly with an odd hopskipping gait. One of its wings hung awkwardly, brushing the ground. They made their way through the undergrowth until they reached the big bird’s hideout. This was a ledge beneath a low hill, surrounded by ferns, vacated by some creature who had dwelt there long ago.