Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

Skipper flicked drops of water from his rudder. “Ye ought to bless fate for that, Tam. We should thank Mother Nature for takin’ care o’ that one. I don’t think any ten beasts could’ve faced a monster like Gulo in combat. That ’un was a mad slayer an’ a flesh eater. Yore a warrior, Tam, but I don’t think you’d have stood a chance agin a beast like Gulo the Savage.”

The Borderer tested the edge of his blade. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

Sensing the challenge in Tam’s voice, Log a Log Togey changed the direction of the conversation. “Makes no difference now, mates. Ole Gulo’s out the way, an’ yore headed back to Redwall.”

Tam nodded. “First thing in the morning, an’ we’ll have to step out sharp. The Abbey’s probably under attack by half a hundred vermin—remember, Gulo split his forces.”

Skipper looked grim. “Yore right there. I ’ope our friends aren’t in any difficulties, I’d hate to think ole Humble or my young Brookflow was in any trouble. I expect you feel the same way about Sister Armel. Eh, Tam?”

The warrior looked surprised. “I hope they’re all safe an’ well, Skip. Why should I be particularly worried about the Sister?”

The otter chieftain chuckled. “Hah, you ain’t foolin’ anybeast, Rakkety Tam MacBurl. Everybeast noticed the way you two was gazin’ at each other an’ whisperin’ together!”

Suddenly Tam was lost for words. He was saved by the arrival of Lancejack Wilderry. “I say, you chaps, are you goin’ to sit there chunnerin’ away all blinkin’ evenin’, or d’you want some scoff?”

It was Guosim tradition that, whilst on campaign, the Log a Log was served first. Out of deference to the shrews, the Long Patrol hares observed this rule. Gathered around the spread the cooks had set out for them, both groups eagerly awaited Togey’s arrival, which would signal that it was time to dig into the feast. Upon his appearance, however, the shrew chieftain first had a few words to say.

“Comrades, this is a fine meal laid out for us. I want ye to enjoy it an’ give thanks for livin’ through today. Not just us Guosim, but you hares, too. We lost some fine friends today, good shrews an’ gallant hares. Our victory was gained, but at a price. So I want ye to give a moment’s silence an’ think of the ones who ain’t with us t’share these good vittles.”

In the silence that followed, the Guosim thought of their mates who had been lost whilst freeing the broadstream of the fallen willow. Many wept openly. The Long Patrol hares kept a stiff upper lip, but it was hard: they all had memories of gallant Corporal Butty Wopscutt, who had given his life for his friends. Tam thought of Butty, too; he had been very fond of the jolly corporal. At the same time, he could not help thinking of Doogy. Where was the little Highlander? Was he safe and well? Then his mind wandered to other things. His feelings for Sister Armel were just as Skipper had expressed them. Tam smiled to himself as he reflected on what an unlikely match they made—the warrior and the gentle healer!

The reverie was broken when a shrewcook held out a plate of stew, some rough bread and a beaker of shrewbeer to Tam. “Here y’are, matey. Get that lot inside o’ ye!”

As night fell over the waters and the woodlands, they did what warriors always did after a long hard day—ate well, drank heartily, told tales and, especially popular with the young hares of the Long Patrol, sang songs. One Merriscut Fieldbud, a haremaid with a trilling voice, entertained them with a barrack room monologue.

“Well pish an’ tush an”pon my word,

I am the Primrose Warrior.

The day I joined the Long Patrol,

no maid was ever sorrier.

They woke me up at break o’ dawn,

and sent me off to war,

before I’d had a chance to bathe,

or dust each dainty paw.

I went away to fight the foe,

with comrades rude an’ rough.

They’d never seen a perfume spray,

much less a powder puff.

With not a drop of daisy balm,

or any rosehip lotion,

I marched along, a dreadful sight,

my ears shook with emotion.

Then soon we faced the enemy,

an’ it was my firm belief,

between that awful scruffy lot,

was not one handkerchief!

What were their mothers thinking of?

Not one had washed his face.

I mentioned to my Officer,

they looked a real disgrace!

All filled with indignation then,

I charged them single-pawed,

with boudoir mirror for a shield,

and parasol for sword.

I curled their ears and brushed their teeth,

and wiped their runny noses,

then sprayed on toilet water,

until they smelt like roses.

They ran away in swift retreat,

that rabble so unseemly.

My General then promoted me,

for beating them so cleanly.

So when you see me on parade,

you chaps must all salute.

I’m called the Primrose Major now, and

Isn’t that a hoot?”

Everybeast laughed and applauded, especially the shrews.

Log a Log Togey remarked to the lancejack, “Hohoho, that ’un’s a pretty liddle maid, ain’t she?”

Wilderry nodded. “She is indeed, sah, but don’t be fooled. Merriscut is hard as steel, an’ death with a lance. She’s what y’d call a perilous beauty, wot!”

Togey observed drily, “All these young ’uns are perilous, both shrews an’ hares. ’Tis the life we chose.” He turned to Skipper. “Well, matey, wot d’ye reckon to Guosim stew, eh?”

The burly otter was into his third bowl. “Ho, very tasty, very nice! But ain’t you buckoes never ’eard of hotroot pepper?”

Togey pulled a wry face. “Aye, but that stuff’s a bit too warm for Guosim stummicks. No doubt ye’ll soon be slurpin’ it down when ye get t’the Abbey. They prob’ly got lots of hotroot pepper there.”

The otter chieftain gazed fondly into the fire. “They do indeed, mate. Good ole Redwall, I can’t wait for dawn when we begin the march to my Abbey!”

Dawn came soon enough, sooner than some expected, who were looking forward to a late sleep. The camp came abustle with hastily taken breakfast.

Log a Log Togey briefed Tam and Skipper. “I’m takin’ my crews back off t’the logboats. Got some business t’see to, mates. Redwall’s about a couple o’ days good marchin’ from here. I’ll leave ye Oneshrew an’ Twoshrew. They’ll guide ye back to the Abbey.”

After they had said their good-byes, Tam found that, in the absence of Corporal Butty Wopscutt, he was left to give the orders. The Borderer did so with practised ease. Soon his bark was echoing round the camp.

“Come on now, me lucky lads’n’lassies, time to march for Redwall! Fall in the Long Patrol. Lancejack an’ Fieldbud, front’n’centre! Right markers, fall in! Tenshun! Look to your dressin’, yew sloppy lot of fiddle-pawed, wobble-lugged excuses for hares! Silence in the ranks there! By the left! Quick march! Hup two, hup two, hup two. . . .” The column strode off briskly through the morning woodlands.

One of the young hares murmured to his companion, “Strewth! Did ye hear Mister MacBurl then? I thought it was ole Sarge Wonwill for a blinkin’ moment!”

His friend replied, “Sounded jolly well like him, wot! Nearly brought a tear to me flippin’ eye, thinkin’ about Sarge Wonwill, grumpy ole gravel-gutted beast. I miss him.”

“I’ll bring a tear to yore eye, laddie buck!” The young hare cut his eyes sideways to see Tam marching on the other side of him. The Borderer looked every inch the sergeant major, with his dirk tucked horizontally like a swagger stick.

He scowled ferociously at the talkers. “I’ll bring so many tears to both your eyes you’ll think yore marchin’ underwater! Now straighten those shoulders, move those paws an’ shut those mouths! No gossipin’ in the ranks, d’ye hear me?”