Rakkety Tam (25 page)

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!”

 

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?

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.”

The water vole turned to the weasel, pretending to be terrified. “Ah now, y'won't hurt us, sir. We're just pore travellers, harmless as a pair o' butterflies, that's us. So go easy.”

The weasel took Yoofus's new sash, cackling to his cronies, “Go easy, eh? Ho yarrrr, we go easy, sure nuff!”

The others dived on Yoofus and Doogy's loot, fighting and scrabbling. The weasel kicked and bit at them, loading most of their gear onto two of the rats. “Carry diss, me say who gets wot. Bring fancybeasts along!”

The pair allowed themselves to be prodded and pushed through the undergrowth by the vermin. Doogy tried to keep his volatile temper in check, whispering to Yoofus, “If yon wee rat keeps ticklin' mah tail with his spear, he'll be wearin' it as a nose ornament afore he's much older. Where in the name o' fur are they takin' us?”

Yoofus noted the direction in which they were travelling. “Ah, never fret, me ould tater, I think we're bound to my ould neighborhood. If I gets the chance, I'll take ye to my neat liddle home, an' ye can visit with me darlin' wife Didjety. Ouch! Will ye be careful with that ould spear, sir! Me backside's smartin' enough as it is!”

 

They were over half a day marching through wood and fenland, until they began following a streambank to the southwest.

Yoofus smiled. “Ah sure, an' wasn't I only right, Doogy
Plumm? We're almost back on me ould patch. Seasons be praised for those fine vermin, carryin' all our stuff an' totin' that big heavy drum o' mine for us. Aren't the thick- 'eaded duffers a grand ould crew?”

The weasel snarled at the water vole, “Yew shurrup ya mouth 'an go disaway!”

He led them to a hole at the base of an elm. It sloped down into a big roomy cave, whose walls and ceiling were part of the tree's root complex. Four vermin were inside—two ferrets and two more rats. There was also a family of dormice—two adults and five little ones. The cave had once been their tidy home, though now it was in a mess, owing to the vermin occupation.

The male dormouse recognised Yoofus straightaway. “Mister Lightpaw, what are ye doin' here?”

The water vole winked at him. “Hush now, Mister Muskar, don't ye go crackin' on that ye know me!”

The weasel glared at Yoofus. “Youse two knows each odder, yarr?”

The volethief shook his head vigourously. “Who, me, sir? Sure I never met the feller in me life. Ask his good missus, she'll tell ye. Ain't that right, marm?”

Mister Muskar's wife, Lupinia, was stirring a cauldron of stew over the fire. She winked at Yoofus, showing she was far quicker on the uptake than her husband. “Oh, er, no, we've never had the pleasure. Pleased t'meet you, I'm sure. I'm Lupinia Muskar. That's my husband Muskar Muskar, and these are our young 'uns—Pippat, Gretty, Wortle, Berrin and Bappik. Say hello to the nice gentlebeast who we've never met, m'dears!”

The young dormice caught their mother's look and called out as one, “Hello, Yoofus!”

Doogy watched Lupinia pull bread and a batch of scones from the oven by the fire. He sniffed the stew appreciatively. “Ah must say, that smells very good, marm!”

The rat who had been prodding Doogy sniggered. “Dat's not fer yew, fancybeast!”

He poked the Highlander's tail again with the stone-tipped pole. Doogy looked pointedly at the water vole. “Dearie me, ah reckon ah've took enough o' this nonsense!”

Yoofus smiled politely at the dormouse couple. “Would ye not like to take the babbies outside to play for a while?”

As is typical of many father dormice, Mister Muskar was fairly dim-witted. Clearly not having caught on, he blinked and scratched his stomach as he replied, “Er, it'll be their bedtime soon.”

His wife gathered the young ones together. “Do as the goodbeast says, dear. Let's take them outside into the fresh air for a bit.”

A sly kick to her husband's paw set things right. “Oh, er, outside, yes, why not? Still some daylight left.”

The weasel nodded toward the food. “Worrabout dose vikkles, eh?”

Yoofus reassured him fawningly, “Ah, don't get yore tail in a knot, sir. Sure we'll serve ye. Won't we, mate?”

Doogy grinned widely. “Och, ye can wager yore bad teeth on that, mah friend. We'll serve ye, sure enough!”

The weasel pointed at Doogy. “Wot 'e says?”

The water vole chuckled. “He says he's highly delighted t'be servin' ye, sir. 'Twill be a meal like ye've never had before. So sit yoreselves down now.”

 

Lupinia and her husband sat watching their young ones by the streambank. The young dormice were making small twigboats with leaves for sails and floating them on the water.

Mister Muskar expressed his confusion and unhappiness with everything. “Huh, 'tis bad enough being threatened an' overrun by vermin, but when we're put out of our own home to play with the young ones, well that really is the limit! By the time we're allowed back inside, those vermin brutes will have eaten all the food. There's little enough left as it is. To cap it all, that rascal Lightpaw invites himself and a friend around for dinner. But we've got
a family to think of, so I've got to put up with it all. What are we to do, Lupinia?”

His wife replied soothingly, “Don't worry, dear. I'm sure everything will work out alright.”

The conversation was interrupted by the sounds of uproar from within their home. Muskar leapt up with alarm. “Oh good gracious, what's all this about?”

The body of a rat came sailing out of the dormouse's home, landing in a heap across Muskar's footpaws. He recoiled from the carcase as the din from indoors increased.

“Haway Braaaaaw! Come on, ye villains. Ah'm no' a dormousie, ah'm Wild Doogy Plumm! Haway Braaaaaaaw!”

Footpaws pounded madly about, mingled with vermin screams.

“Aaaagh, leggo a me!”

“Getta spear . . . Ooooffff!”

“Ah, come here, me scruffy ould beauty, I'll teach ye to bully my neighbours, so I will!”

“Get be'ind der fancybeast. Use yer spear!”

“Och, ye'll prod no more creatures wi' that thing, mah bonny vermin. Here, taste a claymore blade!”

A ferret staggered out. Clutching his stomach, he gurgled horribly before collapsing.

Muskar stared at his wife in amazement. “It's Lightpaw and the squirrel. They're fighting the vermin, but how . . . ?”

His wife called to her young ones, “Play further up the bank, but don't wander too far away.”

She turned to her husband. “I told you not to worry, dear. Mister Lightpaw and his friend are warriors. Trust me, they'll take care of those dreadful vermin.”

Muskar grabbed the club from the paws of a dead rat. “Go and look after our young 'uns, Lupinia. I've been longing for a chance to have a crack at those vermin!”

He rushed indoors, waving the club and roaring, “Invade my home an' steal my food, would you? Ye bottle-nosed, snaggletoothed, tat-furred bullies! Take that, an' that . . . an' have some o' this, too!”

 

When the atmosphere became calmer, the dormouse mother brought her brood back to the cave. Muskar was helping Doogy and Yoofus to throw the slain vermin into the stream.

Yoofus bowed politely to her. “Ye'd best take the babbies inside, missus. Sure they don't want to be seein' this lot departin'!”