Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Yoofus smiled disarmingly. “Dirk? Isn’t that the funny ould long dagger ye carry? Sure ye must’ve mislaid it, matey.”

The Highlander shook his head. “Don’t matey me, ye rogue!” The claymore flashed out, its point pricking the vole’s throat. Doogy meant business. “Hear me, thief. If ah don’t have mah dirk by the time ah’ve counted tae three, ye’ll no’ be drinkin’ tea anymore. One . . . Two . . . !”

The bladetip moved up and down as Yoofus gulped. “Ah wait, wait now, let me think! The dirk, the dirk, now let me see . . . Oh, I remember now, ’tis hangin’ from the back o’ the door inside. I was takin’ care of it for ye!”

Doogy used his claymore to motion the volethief inside. “It better had be, Yoofus, or that bonny wee wifey o’ yores will make a bonny wee widow. Go on, you first.”

Just as the Highlander was retrieving his weapon from the hook behind the front door, Didjety placed a tray of pasties and some long, fat objects on the table alongside her tea service.

“Mister Plumm, sit yoreself down an’ take a sup’n’bite with us. The pasties are filled with wild cherry an’ rhubarb. But if ye fancy somethin’ savoury, then try me sausages. They’re straight out the oven, y’know.”

Doogy enquired, “Sausages, marm? What are sausages?”

The volewife explained. “I invented them meself, sir. I make a mixture of fine ground barley, oats, carrot and mushroom. Then I wrap them in onion skin and bake them slow overnight. Everybeast likes me sausages, have one. Ah no, don’t sit there, Mister Plumm. He doesn’t like bein’ sat upon, do ye, Rockbottom?”

Doogy stood to one side, staring at what he thought had been some kind of stone seat. It looked like stone, though it was covered with a curious square pattern. Yoofus rapped gently on the object. Doogy could not believe what he was seeing. A head emerged slowly from one end of the thing. It resembled a serpent’s head, but it had a much friendlier expression, with a mouth more like a beak. The creature, its neck wrinkled and scaled, looked as if it were from another world.

Didjety stood a short distance from it, holding out a piece of sausage. She spoke to it coaxingly. “Come on then, me beauty. Here’s some of yore mammy’s sausage for ye, me lovely ould Rockbottom.”

Doogy’s eyes grew wider as four scaly little limbs emerged from the beast. Opening its small, pink-tongued mouth, it trundled toward the food in the volewife’s paw.

Totally flabbergasted, Doogy scratched his tail in bewilderment. “Where in the name o’ moles’n’mountains did ye get that beastie? What manner o’ creature is it?”

Didjety fed her small friend fondly. “Ah sure, Yoofus gave it t’me as a gift to keep me company while he’s out rovin’ goodness knows where.”

Doogy grabbed the volethief’s whiskers and tweaked hard. “Where did ye steal it? An’ I want tae know the truth!”

Yoofus came up on tippaw as Doogy tweaked harder. “Owowow! Leggo, ye great murderin’ hooligan. I never stole it—on me honour as a thief, I didn’t. Yowch gerroff!”

Doogy released him, listening whilst the vole related his story. “ ’Twas a curious thing but true, as ye’ll hear. One mornin’ I was sittin’ fishin’ by the lake, with me back up against a sycamore tree. Well, there’s me, tryin’ to catch a sly ould perch I’ve been after all season, when right beside me the earth starts t’move! Hoho, sez I to meself, here comes a mole who’s lost his way. But it wasn’t any mole at all. Somebeast must’ve filled in a hole near the tree with a pile o’ moss an’ dead leaves, ’cos all of a sudden up comes ould Rockbottom, calm as ye like. Then he tumbles over onto the back of his shell, with the effort of climbin’ out, d’ye see. So there’s him, layin’ an’ lookin’ at me, an’ there’s me, sittin’ an’ lookin’ at him. I sez good day, an’ how d’ye do, but the beast doesn’t say a thing back t’me. So I turned him over an’ set him back on his liddle legs. Then, d’ye know what he did? He follered me back home, without a word or a by yore leave. Didjety took to the liddle feller right away, so she did. We named him Rockbottom, an’ he’s been with us ever since. An’ grand ould company he is, too. Aren’t ye Rockbottom, me ould tatercake?”

With eyes twinkling, the creature nodded its head as Didjety stroked it lovingly. “Sure he’s neither beetle, crab nor newt, but I wouldn’t be without me darlin’ pet, not for anythin’!”

The truth hit Doogy like a bolt of lightning. “That beast is a Walkin’ Stone. It’s the thing that auld Gulo the Savage wants tae get his paws on!”

At the mention of Gulo, the little creature shot its head back into its shell.

Didjety scowled. “Well, I don’t give a mouldy acorn who this Gulo is, but he’s not gettin’ me Rockbottom!”

The Highlander nodded decisively. “No, he ain’t, marm, ’cos Rockbottom’s comin’ back tae Redwall Abbey wi’ me!”

Yoofus stood up, placing his paw aggressively on his dagger hilt. “My Didjety’s liddle pet leaves this place over me dead body. So what d’ye say t’that, me bold squirrel?”

Quick as a flash, Doogy drew his dirk, rapping the volethief’s paw sharply. Then he laid the blade on Yoofus’s nose. “That can be easily arranged, mah wee sauncy vole!”

Mister Muskar, who had sat silently downing sausages during the dispute, protested, “But you can’t just march in here and take that creature away from the Lightpaws. That makes you as big a thief as Yoofus, if you’ll pardon my saying, Mister Lightpaw.”

Doogy thrust another sausage into the dormouse’s mouth. “Ah’ll thank ye t’stay out o’ this, sir. Rockbottom is goin’ tae Redwall, an’ so is the drum. Yore comin’, too, Yoofus. But before we get tae the Abbey, yore goin’ tae take us tae yon hole in the streambank. D’ye recall it? Ah think that’s where ye hid Rakkety Tam MacBurl’s claymore an’ the banner ye stole when ye escaped from the Abbey.”

Yoofus pushed the blade away from his nose and nodded. “Faith, you ain’t as thick as ye look, Mister Plumm. You’ve had yore eye on me closely. I thought ye’d forgotten the sword an’ the flag. Alright, friend, you win. I’ll go with ye!”

Now it was Didjety’s turn to protest. “Hold fast there! Ye ain’t traipsin’ off an’ leavin’ me here all alone.”

Doogy shrugged. “Then ye’d best come with us, marm.”

The volewife looked around at her neat home. “But who’s goin’ to take care of this place?”

Mister Muskar volunteered. “Myself and my good wife Lupinia will do that, Mrs. Lightpaw. That’s if you’d be good enough to leave us a supply of your delicious sausages?”

Yoofus suddenly took a shine to the idea. “Sure, we’ll take the raft, it’ll be a nice little trip downstream. Ah, ye’ll love Redwall, Didjety me darlin’, ’tis a grand ould place. Right then, let’s get packed!”

Doogy sat down and began loading up a plate. “Not before ah’ve helped mahself tae these vittles!”

He immediately pronounced Didjety’s sausages excellent. “Och, ah never met a sausage until taeday, but ah could happily live on ’em for the rest o’ mah life, marm!”

The vermin must have stolen the raft from some otherbeasts, because it was a stout, well-built craft, and it rode the stream smoothly. Mister Muskar leaped ashore as they passed his dwelling. The dormouse family came out to wave farewell as they drifted off downstream, with Yoofus and Doogy plying the long paddling poles.

The highland squirrel watched the deep quiet stream running silently by, murmuring to himself as he wielded his paddle, “Ah hope Tam’s lookin’ after himself an’ no’ frettin’ about me too much.”