Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Tam winked at the Infirmary Sister. “That must have took some deep thinking to learn all about herbs an’ dressin’s, eh?”

The pretty young squirrelmaid answered modestly. “Not really, just a lot of bitter experience and hard concentration. Now, shall we escort the wounded down to lunch? I’m sure you’ll enjoy Redwall cooking.”

Brigadier Crumshaw leaned on Tam and Doogy, chortling. “By the left! Redwall scoff! I’ve visited here before, doncha know. Finest vittles anywhere! Makes our tucker taste like stale haversack rations an’ hardtack. Lead on, sweet Sister, point us to the blinkin’ trough!”

However, before anybeast could eat, there was a burial to attend, that of the unfortunate galloper Dauncey. Foremole Bruffy and his crew had seen to the digging arrangements. It was a quiet little spot at the corner of the southwest wall, shaded by an old cherry-plum tree which had rooted itself into the base of the wall. Kersey, unable to bear watching her twin laid in his grave, sat stone-faced by the fire in Cavern Hole, attended by the homely molewife.

After the burial, the hares of the Long Patrol sang a short verse as a farewell to their comrade.

“Now the sunny glades are silent,

where our fallen warriors lay.

As in memory we treasure

all the brave who marched away.

Through the dusty seasons rolling,

o’er our passing out parade,

how we laughed and sang together,

Oh your face ’twill never fade.”

Most of the younger hares broke down in tears as Sergeant Wonwill stepped forward and placed the galloper’s empty despatch purse and belt on the flowerstrewn mound.

The brigadier wiped something from his eye, replaced his monocle and addressed his command. “Vigilance in battle, alertness on the march! Somethin’ everybeast o’ the Long Patrol must bear in mind. Obedience to the officers’ orders an’ strict attention to the advice of veteran comrades, vitally important! I say vitally, because if ye adhere t’these rules, it may save your life. This young galloper lost his life. I don’t want to witness any more lives, particularly young ’uns, lost needlessly. You march to the warrior’s way, learn those ways well an’ burn ’em into your minds. You’ll all get your chance to avenge the memory of young Dauncey in the comin’ days. That’ll help him to rest easy, knowin’ his friends are continuin’ the fight against evil an’ brutal vermin. That’s all I’ve got to say. Sergeant!”

Wonwill threw a smart salute. “Sah! All ranks t’the mess, an’ remember yore manners in front o’ these kind creatures. Dismiss!”

Nobeast could ever be gloomy for long at Redwall Abbey. The newcomers were made heartily welcome by the Abbot and his creatures. Friar Glisum and his helpers had the kitchens working to capacity. With his ample past experience in feeding hares, the good Friar was aware of the huge appetites they possessed and was well prepared to cater to the Long Patrol.

Glisum bustled about his kitchens, checking everything for quality and quantity. “Salad, we need mountains of good spring salad! Chop more carrots, add extra radishes! Borty, that little few stalks of celery won’t be nearly enough. Go and get some more from Brother Demple, lots more!”

Borty the mole tugged his snout. “Aye, zurr, an h’oill fetch ee gurt load o’ waterycress, an’ scallions an’ leekers, too. Yurr Mudge, bring ee likkle cart an’ lend oi a paw!”

Skipper strolled into the kitchens, dipping a paw into a big wooden bowl and licking it with relish. “Hmm, that tastes nice, though it’d be better with a dash of ’otroot pepper in it.”

Glisum raised his ladle threateningly. “Away, you great plank-ruddered marauder! That’s my own special recipe—rosehip vinegar and almond-oil salad dressing with grated dandelion bud. Anyhow, what are you doing in my kitchens, eh?”

The otter chieftain stole a hot scone from a tray which had just come out of the ovens. He retreated to the door, jiggling it between both paws. “Abbot says to tell ye lunch’ll be out on the lawns. He said to serve it buffet style, ’cos he wants a full banquet supper laid out in Great Hall this evenin’.”

Glisum threw up his paws in despair. “Well, this is a fine time to be telling me that! Ulba, please run down to the cellars right away. Tell Burlop to bring up the trestle with the folding legs. Have it set out on the lawn, not too far from the steps. Everybeast sits on those steps when we have lunch out there. Now, what next? Mushroom and onion gravy for the pasties, hazelnuts for the fruit slices, damson glaze for the pear flan . . . Cheese! I knew I’d forgotten something, ripe yellow cheese for the grilled chestnut dip.”

21

Despite the last-moment rush, the buffet lunch went off smoothly. Glisum’s prediction proved correct, with everybeast seating themselves on the broad, sun-warmed steps which fronted the Abbey building’s main door.

Foremole Bruffy remarked to Humble as they shared a pastie, “Stan’ on moi tunnel, zurr. H’oi never see’d owt loiken it in moi loife. They’m hurrs bee’s gurt vikklers!”

The Abbot watched Corporal Wopscutt wolfing his way through a mound of salad and swigging pale cider furiously. “Indeed, they don’t seem to stint themselves at mealtimes. ‘Perilous scoffing,’ I’ve heard them call it. I remember, in old Friar Furdle’s time, he used to say, ‘I’d sooner feed a hare half a day than a full season.’ Furdle certainly had a point there.”

Tam and Doogy brought their laden platters from the table and sat beside Armel and Brooky. The border warrior dipped a grilled chestnut in melted cheese and bit into it. “No wonder you like Abbey life, Armel. This lunch is superb!”

The Infirmary Sister sipped at her beaker of plum cordial. “I’m glad you like it. What’s the matter with your friend up there, doesn’t he like company?”

Tergen was perched on a dormitory windowsill, making inroads to a sizable slice of pear flan.

Doogy nodded in the goshawk’s direction. “Och, he cannae get away from the wee ones. As soon as yore Dibbuns found out he wasnae goin’ tae eat them, they all wanted tae play wi’ him.”

Tam took up the matter of the goshawk with Armel. “I don’t know how Tergen got up there, he has an injured wing. See, the one that flaps down by his side? He was wounded by a vermin arrow. I was wonderin’, Armel, with your knowledge of herbs an’ healin’, could you do anything for him? ’Tis a sad thing to see a bird like that hobblin’ about, unable to fly.”

The pretty Sister readily agreed. “Indeed it is. Bring him up to the Infirmary later, I’ll see what I can do. You do travel in some odd company, Tam—a wounded hawk and a thief! By the way, I haven’t seen Yoofus about. Where d’you suppose he’s got to?”

Sitting close by, Brother Gordale could not help overhearing the conversation. He tapped Tam’s shoulder. “Pardon me, but I saw the water vole ye call Yoofus. As soon as lunch was served, he filled himself a platter and went off down to the south wall. Mayhaps he’s a trifle bashful around others.”

Doogy questioned the mouse Gatekeeper. “Was he carryin’ a bundle an’ sword like mine, sir?”

Gordale thought for a moment. “Yes, he was actually. . . .”

The Gatekeeper got no further. Tam and Doogy were off and running down to the south wall.

When Doogy saw the small south wickergate hanging ajar, he stamped his footpaw down. “Ah knew it! The saucy wee robber, he’s made off with yore claymore an’ the flag. Ach, I’ll love tae get mah paws on the thievin’ rascal!”