Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

The border squirrel outlined his scheme. “We’ve got to get Gulo to take his vermin into those pine groves. He doesn’t know about the big black birds.”

The slap of Skipper’s rudder was audible upon the log deck. “Great streams’n’rivers, matey. ’Tis a masterful plan!”

Tam disentangled a shrewbabe from his footpaws and stood up. “Maybe it is, but it needs more thought yet. I’m goin’ to put my mind to it, an’ anybeast who comes up with a workable idea, well, I’d be pleased to listen to it.”

Evening drew softly over the water meadows, bringing the warm spring day to a close. Guosim logboats, plied by sentries, patrolled the area. Lanterns lit the covered boardwalk as everybeast took their ease. Shrewparents laid their little ones down to slumber in wicker cradles which were suspended from the thatched ceiling. Guosim warriors and Long Patrol fighters sat swapping yarns and sipping shrewbeer. Log a Log Togey’s eldest daughter strummed on a stringed instrument, called a shrewbec, accompanying herself to a lullaby.

“When the sun slips o’er the treetops,

then small birds fly off to nest.

Feel the peace lie on the meadows,

’tis a time that I love best.

Slumber on, little one,

I am ever near.

Drowsily, lean on me,

dream small dreams, my dear.

All the jewelled stars a-twinkle,

watch the clouds drift through the night.

Sail upon thy boat of dreaming,

to the rays of dawning’s light.

Slumber on, day is gone,

by thy side I’ll lay.

Fear no harm, rest in calm,

’til the golden day.”

Doogy yawned as he remarked to Yoofus, “Och, ye could live here forever with no’ a thing tae bother ye.”

He was about to continue eulogising when he saw that the water vole was snoring peacefully. The Highlander chuckled. “Just like a thief, eh? Stolen off tae sleep!”

Ferdimond had a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at the little curmudgeon. I say, I’ve just thought of a super wheeze. See that empty cradle hanging over yonder?”

Skipper caught on right away, grinning broadly. “Good idea, Ferdy. Come on Doogy, Butty . . . lend a paw over here, will ye!”

The four companions carefully lifted the sleeping water vole. They tippawed over the log floor, carrying Yoofus between them, and laid him gently into the hanging cradle. The little thief snuffled a bit but carried on slumbering.

Doogy added a humourous touch by sliding a shrewdolly between his paws and a shrewbabe’s bonnet upon his head. “Och, doesn’t the wee darlin’ look sweet? Ah’ve never seen such a bonny bairn, the robbin’ wee scruffbag!”

Tam, who had been sitting outside, suddenly came striding in. “I’ve got it! Listen, here’s the plan for tomorrow. . . .”

23

Tergen did not like wearing a splint upon his wing; it irked him and hampered his movement. The goshawk was highly disappointed that Sister Armel had not cured him instantly, giving him back the power of flight. He trundled about the Abbey grounds, brooding and grumbling to himself as he shrugged his good wing.

“Kruuuurrrrk! This bird never fly. Tergen no use to anybeast now. Huh, vermin be glad of that!”

Armel sat on the gatehouse steps with Abbot Humble and the brigadier, watching the hawk. Humble felt a certain sympathy with the wounded bird. “Poor Tergen. It must be very hard for him, being grounded like that. I wish I could help him in some way.”

Sister Armel, however, did not share Humble’s view. “I’ll tell you, that bird’s trouble, Father. He’s got no patience at all. Oh, he’ll fly again, I’m sure. The wing just needs lots of rest, then plenty of exercise.”

The brigadier polished his monocle. “I’ve seen some of my hares actin’ like that after they’ve been injured. That chap needs something to occupy his mind an’ make him feel jolly well useful again, wot!”

Armel sighed wearily. “I’ve tried everything I could think of. I made Tergen a sickbay assistant, but all he did was eat the rest of my candied chestnuts and lay on the beds. Then I introduced him to Friar Glisum as a kitchen helper. He said the kitchens were too hot and he couldn’t breathe. Next came a spell with Ulba molewife, minding Dibbuns, but he was short-tempered and frightened the little ones. So, Brigadier, what would you do with that goshawk?”

Crumshaw toyed with his moustache. “I see what y’mean, Sister. Hmm, what t’do with the chap. Hah, I’ve just thought o’ the very thing—discipline!”

He rose smartly and paced off wagging his swagger stick. “I say, you there, Turfill, or whatever y’flippin’ name is. Come with me! Liven y’self up now, laddie bird, I’ve got a job for you, wot!”

The hawk’s gold-rimmed eye glared icily at the brigadier. “Karrraaa! This bird be named Tergen. What job you have, eh?”

Crumshaw marched up the west wallsteps, explaining as he went. “Rampart sentry, ideal for a bird like y’self, wot! Nobeast has an eye as jolly well sharp as a hawk. Eyes like a hawk—you’ve heard the expression, wot? Need somebeast I can rely on to patrol these walltops regular. Keep an eye out for those confounded vermin, should they come skulkin’ about. Well, are you up to the task, wot wot?”

Crumshaw was forced to back off a pace as the goshawk advanced. For a moment the hare thought Tergen was about to attack him. Then the wonder occurred: Tergen raised his good wing and saluted, his chest swelling proudly. “Greekah! Brigadier Wotwot is right. This bird have good eyes, see all. Tergen will do job for Brigadier Wotwot!”

The hawk ambled along the walltop to the south, stopping at each space between battlements and peering down avidly. The other hares on walltop guard kept well out of the fierce-looking goshawk’s way.

Crumshaw stumped down the gatehouse steps and resumed his seat with Humble and Armel. “Well, he seems to be fairly happy up there. Peculiar blighter, though. Seems t’think my name’s Brigadier Wotwot. Can’t think how that notion got into his head. Can you, Father?”

Humble was hard put not to burst out laughing. “What, er, I’ve no idea at all, Brigadier!”

Three of the hare wallguards excused themselves as they came hurrying down the steps. The brigadier rose indignantly. “Just a tick! Where the dickens d’ye think yore off to, wot?”

Young Flummerty threw him a hasty salute. “Beggin’ y’pardon, sah, but that bird chased us from our posts. Said he didn’t need us ’cos he could see everything!”

The monocled eye halted the trio where they stood. “Oh did he, indeed? An’ you three shrinkin’ violets take that as an excuse to disobey orders, wot? Now get back up there t’your posts at the double, an’ if ye get any blinkin’ arguments from that bird, tell him it’s me, Brigadier Wotwot, who’s givin’ the orders round here!”

A moment later, the hawk was leaning over the parapet, calling down to Crumshaw, “Yikhaah! They stay up here with this bird, I teach ’em to stand watch proper. You right, Brigadier Wotwot!”

Giggles of uncontrolled glee greeted this announcement.

Crumshaw rose huffily and marched off muttering, “Must see what the grubslingers have cooked up for afternoon tea. Brigadier Wotwot, indeed! Who ever heard of such foolishness, wot wot!”

Captain Zerig and his vermin watched the Abbey walls from the tree fringe beyond the sward which fronted the south wall. Freeta, the mate of slain Captain Shard, crouched alongside Zerig. She viewed the high red sandstone construction doubtfully.

“If we were birds, ’twould be easy to fly over those walls.”