Brian Jacques - Rakkety Tam

The door creaked open to reveal both Dibbuns, still in nightshirts, wrestling.

“Hoo! You’m pullen’ moi nose! Lookit, marm, she’m turmentin’ oi gurtly!”

Mimsie let out a piteous wail. “Waaaaah! Mudge jus’ stampid on me paw!”

Armel smiled apologetically at the Abbot. “Sorry, Father. Our talk will have to wait until later.”

She hurried to the stairs and separated the tiny pair. “Be still, both of you! What are you doing out of bed? It’s nowhere near breakfast time yet! The morning bell hasn’t even sounded and you’re running around down here in your nighties. I can’t abide naughty Dibbuns, nor can the Father Abbot!”

Tearfully, Mimsie pointed an accusing paw at Mudge. “He woked me up an’ hitted me wiv a pillow!”

The molebabe stuck out his small, fat stomach truculently. “No oi diddent! You’m a gurt mowsey fibber!”

“Yis y’did!”

“No oi diddent!”

“Did!”

“Diddent!”

Armel raised her voice. “Silence, both of you! Mudge, what did I tell you only yesterday about fighting with your friends?”

The molebabe growled out indignantly, “You’m only telled oi not to foight wi’ Perkle, marm. Ee diddent say ought about foightin’ Mimsie!”

Armel wagged a paw severely at him. “I meant all Dibbuns, not just Perkle.”

Mudge stared at the Sister pityingly, then threw up his paws. “Then you’m should’ve said h’all. ’Ow bee’s oi apposed t’know?”

The Abbot appeared, fully dressed. A broad smile was growing over his face as he grabbed both Dibbuns by their paws. “Sister Armel, what do you say we take these two rogues up to breakfast? I’m sure Friar Glisum is up and about now. But we’ll have to ask him nicely, because I don’t think he serves early breakfast to naughty Dibbuns. Come on.”

All four retreated upstairs, chattering animatedly.

“Does h’Abbots bee’s naughty, too, Sitter H’Armil?”

“Certainly not, Mimsie. You have to be good if you want to be Abbot. Isn’t that right, Father?”

“It certainly is, Sister Armel. I was a good little Dibbun.”

“Hurr, no you’m wurrn’t, zurr. Wunderin’ Walt sayed you’m wurr a likkle villyun.”

“Oh, did he indeed? I’ll have to have a word with Wandering Walt!”

“Oi’m goin’ t’be naughty when oi’m h’Abbot!”

“Hmph, when you grow up we’ll probably make you Abbey villain!”

“Hurrhurr, h’Abbey villyun. Oi loikes that gurtly, marm!”

Morning brought with it soft, grey skies and a fine drizzle of warm rain, which many Redwallers predicted would last through midnoon. There was plenty to do inside the Abbey; everybeast busied themselves with a multitude of chores. Sister Armel sat in the Infirmary with the Abbot and Sister Screeve, trying to figure out the meaning of Martin’s cryptic message. Outside, Brother Demple tended to his vegetable patch and orchard. A true son of the soil, Demple was never bothered by rain. The stolid mouse made a hood, which went over his head and shoulders, from an old sack. He worked on alone, weeding between the drills of his salad crop.

The Abbey Gardener was totally unaware of any activity on top of the east wall. Rakkety Tam MacBurl had scaled a high elm, close to the wall in the outside woodlands. He raced along a broad branch which quivered up and down as he bounced upon it. With a tremendous bound he flung himself out into space. No other beast but Tam could have accomplished such a daring feat. His paws latched on to a battlement; there he clung a moment before leaping up and over, landing silently on the walkway. Drawing the small Sghian Dhu from his hat, the squirrel warrior cautiously descended the east wallsteps and quietly opened the wallgate. Leaving Skipper and the Long Patrol hares to follow him, Tam raced through the deserted, drizzle-cloaked grounds, heading for the hooded figure he had espied.

Hit from behind, Brother Demple went down like a sack of cabbages. The Borderer spun him over swiftly. Clamping a paw across Demple’s mouth, he whispered urgently, “Brother, I don’t have time for idle chitchat, understand?”

Demple nodded, and Tam continued. “Has the Abbey been attacked by vermin?” Eager for an answer, Tam released his paw from Demple’s mouth.

The gardener licked his lips nervously. “Aye, they actually got inside the grounds.”

The border squirrel’s jaw tightened. “Where are they now, inside?”

Brother Demple sat up. “No, they were all slain. We buried them out on the flatlands.”

Skipper and the hares gathered around him.

“I say, good show, wot!”

“Indeed, old lad, at least the chaps we left behind didn’t spend all their time jolly well feastin’ an’ nappin’ whilst we were dashin’ round the blinkin’ woodlands.”

Brother Demple wiped drizzle from his eyes. “We helped the hares. In fact, we Redwallers actually took out quite a few of the vermin. How did you lot get on?”

Skipper helped Demple up. “Oh, we did our bit, mate, but let’s get in out of this rain. We can swap yarns over a good meal. Yore dealin’ with ’ungry beasts here!”

Everybeast came rushing into Great Hall to meet the returning creatures. Friar Glisum threw up his paws in alarm, squeaking at his helpers.

“Stoke up the oven fires, load up the ovens! We need lots of fresh bread! Extra salad, cheeses, pasties, mushroom an’ cauliflower soup, a crumble—no, six large rhubarb’n’blackberry crumbles, with sweet arrowroot sauce! Er, er, scones, extra batches of hot scones, with plum’n’damson preserve! Hurry ’em along, Murly. These famine-faced hares need feeding!”

The mole hitched up her pinafore. “Gurt seasons, get ee frum under moi paws, you’m Dibbuns. We’m got lots o’ vikklin’ t’be dun!”

Abbot Humble embraced Tam fondly. “Welcome back to Redwall Abbey, my friend. Welcome!”

“Mister MacBurl, thank goodness you’re safe and well!” Tam found himself gazing over the Abbot’s shoulder into the Sister’s gentle brown eyes.

He winked at her roguishly. “I would’ve torn down the Abbey walls t’be back here with you, Sister!”

She cast her eyes down, smiling. “Is that a compliment or a threat, Tam?”

Releasing himself from Humble’s grip, Tam bowed gallantly. “Beauty is to be complimented, not threatened, Armel. See, I kept my promise—I brought back the sword.”

She stayed his paw as he grasped Martin’s blade. “Please, keep it by you, Tam. I’ll explain later, but the Abbot and I think you’ll have need of it.”

The border warrior looked puzzled. “But why?”

Skipper was whirling his niece, Brookflow, round the floor. They both collided with Tam and Armel, almost knocking them over.

The ottermaid hooted with laughter. “Whoohoohoooo! Never mind that now. Give the pretty Sister a kiss. She’s done nothin’ but mope since you went away!”

Armel glared reprovingly at her friend. “Really, Brooky!”

The hares had begun ragging their comrades good-naturedly. The ones who had remained at Redwall were singing.

“I can’t believe me eyes, what a horrible surprise,

yore as welcome as a famine at the door.

Look what the wind blew in, all bedraggled, wet’n’thin,

an’ look at the mess yore makin’ on the floor!

Come sit down by the fire, if eatin’s your desire,

there’s not a bit o’ scoff nowhere about.

You missed breakfast, lunch’n’tea, an’ I’ll tell ye candidly,

you’ll have to call again when we are out!”

Sergeant Wonwill’s voice cut across the banter. “Nah then, you dreadful lot, fall in line an’ get down to Cavern ’ole. Clean up an’ get out o’ those rags! Cartwill, Folderon, Flummerty . . . issue ’em with their proper regimental tunics. On the double now!”