Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Abbot Humble called out, “Who is it?”

Wonwill could be heard outside. “ ’Tis us, Father. You can h’open up, sah!”

The Redwallers set up a rousing cheer as the hares marched into Great Hall, but it died upon the lips of everybeast when they saw what the slow-marching Patrol bore between their ranks. Laid out upon a trestle taken from the orchard was the still form of Brigadier Crumshaw. In one paw, the old warrior still held his swagger stick. The broken arrows in his chest and the awful wound across his face could be seen by all. Crumshaw’s monocle dangled from his bloodstained tunic by its cord.

Captain Fortindom saluted Humble with his sabre, nodding toward the makeshift bier. “Father, may we request someplace to lay him until the evenin’? The burial will take place at sundown, in the Abbey grounds, with your permission, sah.”

Humble, who had become firm friends with the feisty old officer, led Fortindom and the bearers over to the great tapestry. Then he addressed the group. “I think the best way we can honour your Brigadier is to lay him there, beneath the likeness of our warrior, Martin.”

Wonwill smiled up at the brave mouse’s picture. “A warrior watched over by a warrior. Father h’Abbot, I think the Brigadier would’ve liked that. Thank ye kindly!”

BOOK THREE

“The Walking Stone”

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

the drums are beatin’ braw.

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

Are ye marchin’ off tae war?

That savage from the lands of ice,

he’s no’ like any other.

He’s sworn tae get the Walkin’ Stone,

an’ murder his own brother!

’Tis braw tae woo a bonny maid,

for love is aye sae sweet.

Yet who’ll be left tae tell the tale,

when steel an’ fang must meet?

29

To say that Wild Doogy Plumm and Yoofus Lightpaw looted the vermin camp would have been a gross understatement. Between them, the Highlander and the volethief left the place stripped bare to the earth. The happy pair came away decked from ear to tail, and from pawtip to snout end, with ornaments the vermin had left behind in their haste. Earrings, tailrings, pawrings, bracelets, necklets, belts and sashes were all donned as the two victors criticised and complimented each other.

“Och, yer no’ goin’ tae wear yon great daft medallion hangin’ from yore tail, are ye?”

“Sure, an’ why not, pray? I think it makes me look like a grand ould savage, so it does!”

Doogy scoffed. “More like a broody duck wi’ a half-laid egg hangin’ from its tail. Here, ah’ll swap ye for this braw gold an’ purple sash. Ye can bind it aroond yore brow.”

They exchanged the plunder, with Yoofus winding the sash several times about his middle. He began thrusting knives, hatchets and curved swords through it, until he could hardly bend to pick up another blade from the stack of arms they had found. Bristling with weaponry, they surveyed one another.

Yoofus grinned proudly. “Y’know, if I had six extra sets o’ paws, I could charge an army with this liddle lot. I’d put that axe in the front of me belt if’n I was you, mate, ’cos if ye fell backwards ye’d chop yore tail off!”

Doogy took his friend’s advice. “Och, mayhaps yore right. That’s a fine wee dagger ye’ve got stowed in yore belt. D’ye want tae trade it for this axe o’ mine?”

The volethief wasted no time in responding, “Sure ’tis a pretty blade, alright. Tell ye wot, I’ll exchange it for that big ould knife o’ yours, Doogy.”

The Highlander’s paw shot to his dirk hilt. “Ye’ll do nae such thing, ye rascal. That was mah father’s dirk, an’ his father afore him. Huh, ’tis a pity the vermin never left any vittles layin’ about—ah’m peckish!”

Yoofus wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I’m famished meself, but I wouldn’t be found dead eatin’ all that tripe an’ offal those hooligans feed on. Come on, mate, let’s go an’ see if’n we can’t search out a gobful o’ some decent rations. Here, lend a paw with me drum, will ye? ’Tis too big for one beast t’be draggin’ round.”

Doogy was swift to point out the error of his companion’s ways. “Whoa now, hauld on a tick, thief. That’s no’ yore drum. By rights that drum belongs tae the beasties o’ Redwall Abbey. The hares were bringin’ it as a gift tae them!”

The water vole shot out his chin defiantly. “Finders keepers, losers weepers! That’s wot my ould mammy always said!”

Doogy was just as truculent as Yoofus in his reply. “Did she now! Well, yore auld mammy must’ve been a worse robber than ye are, mah friend!”

Spitting on his paws, Yoofus performed a little dance. “Now lissen t’me, ye ould branch bouncer. Don’t you dare talk about me darlin’ mammy like that, or I’ll lay ye out flat as a fluke!”

The Highlander adopted a boxing stance. “Oh will ye now? Come on, ye fat, tatty-furred water walloper, let’s see ye try it. Ah’ll knock yer block off!”

Yoofus darted toward Doogy, but, owing to all the armament he was carrying, he stumbled and fell forward, striking his nose on the Highlander’s clenched paw. Yoofus sat down hard but instantly shot upright, holding his nose and rear end at the same time.

Immediately, Doogy was concerned for him. “Ah’m sorry, mate, ’twas an accident. Are ye alright?”

Far from being alright, Yoofus was the picture of outraged dignity, and he wasted no time letting the squirrel know about it. “Ooh, ye mizrubble brush-tailed slybeast! Strikin’ a defenceless beast like that! An’ here’s me, thinkin’ we were friends. Ye durty ould turncoat!”

Doogy could not help laughing. “Defenceless? Yore carryin’ enough weapons tae outfit a regiment! Och, come on now, matey, yer no’ that bad hurt.”

Yoofus knew the squirrel was right, but he had a good sulk nevertheless. “Lookit me, will ye? Me nose is swellin’ like a summer sunset. Ye’ve ruined an’ destroyed me han’some young face, an’ me nether regions are slashed t’blazes!”

Doogy inspected his comrade’s supposed wounds. “Nae sich thing, laddie. There’s nought wrong with yore snout. An’ as for yore bottom, ye nicked it on that curved sword at the back of yer sash. Ach, ’tis only a wee scratch, ye’ll live. Let’s shake paws an’ be friends!”

Yoofus half stretched his paw toward Doogy. “Then ye’ll help me with me drum?”

Doogy withdrew his paw. “Ah’ll no’ help a robbin’ thief tae carry off stolen property. ’Tis agin mah principles!”

“D’drum be our prop’ty now, fancybeasts. Yarrrr!”

They both turned to see six creatures had been watching them: two ferrets, a weasel and three rats. They were an unsavoury-looking gang, garbed in an assortment of rags and pieces of foliage. Each one was armed with a club and a long, flint-tipped spear.

Their leader, the weasel, prodded Yoofus with his spearpoint, grinning wickedly through snaggled, yellow teeth. “T’row down dose nice fancy weppins, or we killyer!”

Doogy winked at Yoofus as they unbuckled their arms. “Och, let’s play along wi’ yon scruffy frog frightener for a wee while. Mebbe we’ll get fed, eh?”

Unable to understand the Highlander’s thick northern brogue, the weasel snarled at Yoofus, “Wotta ’e bee’s talkabout?”

Before replying, Yoofus murmured to Doogy, “Aye, an’ they might have some loot stowed back at their den. Let’s play along with this ould eejit, mate.”