Rakkety Tam

10

Pain was the first thing Rakkety Tam MacBurl wakened to. His head was one massive ache, and his limbs could not move. Upon opening one eye slowly, Tam found himself lying bound to a pole on the floor of a lantern-lit rock cavern. He tried to rise but fell back, the pole clattering against the stone floor.

Behind him, a voice sounded. “I say, chaps, this tall rascal’s awake, wot!”

From someplace close by, Doogy could be heard, regaining his senses volubly. “Yerrah, ye cowards, sneakin’ up on a body an’ bludgeonin’ him. Get these ropes off mah paws!”

Another voice rang out. “I do believe the little fat villain’s awake, too!”

Paws grabbed hold of Tam and Doogy, dragging them roughly over to the rock wall and propping them up in a seated position. Over a score of hares gathered around them. Tam held his silence until he could make sense of the situation they were in, but not so Doogy.

Furious, the small Highlander roared at an older hare—a sinewy, athletic-looking beast with a battered face, who was wearing a green tunic with three stripes affixed to the sleeve. “Did ye no’ hear me, ye great flappin’, cloth-eared clod? Ah told ye tae get these ropes off’n me!”

The hare avoided his gaze, setting his eyes right ahead. “Sorry, mate, h’I can’t do that h’until Lady Melesme sees ye.”

A tall, elegant hare, much younger than the other, stepped forward. He was wearing a red tunic and had a long rapier belted about his waist. Placing a footpaw upon Doogy, he pushed him flat.

“Get down on the floor, like the confounded, murderin’ snake you are, sirrah!”

Though he was tightly bound, Doogy managed to slew around. His teeth clashed as he snapped at the hare’s footpaw, causing him to dodge backward as the prisoner ranted, “Ah’m no murderer, an’ ye’ve no right tae call me a snake, ye great snot-nosed rabbet!”

The hare raised his footpaw to kick Doogy. “How dare y’call me a rabbit! I’ll teach you a lesson. . . .”

He was wrenched clean off his paws and hurled to one side by the older, green-tunicked hare, who berated him. “Nah, nah, young master Ferdimond, try to be’ave yoreself like a h’officer an’ a gentlebeast, sir!”

The young hare, Ferdimond De Mayne, argued back vociferously. “Bad show, Sarge. You shouldn’t be takin’ the side of that bloomin’ assassin! We’ve lost eight comrades good’n’true to the likes of that confounded worm. I’m going to knock his bally block off, first chance I get. You see if I don’t, wot wot!”

Tam interrupted, calling out indignantly, “That should be easy to do, he’s unable to defend himself. Doogy’s right, we’re not murderers!”

Suddenly the sergeant bellowed, “Stand fast allbeasts for the Lady Melesme!”

The Badger Ruler of Salamandastron strode in among them. Melesme was no longer young, but she was an imposing creature. Tall and powerfully built, she looked every inch a ruler, though clad only in a simple homespun smock with a forge apron belted over it. Turning her dark, liquid eyes upon the sergeant, Melesme spoke in a voice which boomed around the cavern.

“What’s going on here, Wonwill?”

Sergeant Wonwill took a smart pace forward and saluted. “Marm, we h’apprehended these ’ere squirrels near the spot where the slaughter took place. They was loiterin’ round by a burnt-out ship, so we took ’em in for questionin’, marm.”

Melesme beckoned, and Arflow the young sea otter was escorted through the gathering of hares. The badger indicated both captives. “Have you seen either of these before, young ’un?”

Arflow shook his head. “No, marm, it wasn’t them.”

Tam decided it was time to speak his piece. “I could’ve told ye that! It couldn’t have been us who did whatever was supposed to have been done. We were chasin’ after the Gulo beast an’ his white vermin, on the orders of Araltum Squirrelking an’ Idga Drayqueen!”

The Badger Ruler raised her heavy eyebrows. “But you two have the look of warriors. How did you come to be taking orders from those two overblown little idiots? Fortindom, Wilderry, release them!”

Two capable-looking hares, with medals and stars on their pink tunics, marched out. Whipping out their sabres, they sliced through the bonds with a few masterful strokes.

Tam and Doogy stood up, massaging the life back into their numbed paws. Knowing they were in the presence of a Badger Ruler, they bowed courteously. Tam elected himself spokesbeast for them both.

“I thank ye, marm. I’m Rakkety Tam MacBurl, an’ this is my friend, Wild Doogy Plumm. We serve Araltum an’ Idga because we pledged our oath an’ our swords in their service. The only way we can be freed from the bond is to take back an’ return their Royal Banner, stolen by the vermin.”

Melesme issued a mirthless grunt. “Royal Banner, indeed! Is that what those two idiots are up to these days? I’ve had them watched since they came to my groves. Oh, they’re no harm to honest beasts, so I’ve let them be, but I don’t want to ally myself to fools. What is this Royal Banner thing, Tam?”

The warrior squirrel’s jaw tightened. “Just a symbol, marm, part of their silly pomp an’ ceremony. What matters more is that a lot o’ squirrels, some of ’em our friends, were massacred when the Gulo beast stole the flag. Araltum an’ Idga care more for the return of it than the lives of their subjects. We’ll get the flag back, but me an’ Doogy are more concerned with settlin’ the score.”

Doogy’s teeth gritted audibly. “Aye, lady. Guid warriors cannae rest ’til those dirty slayers are paid out in steel for their crimes, ye ken?”

Melesme nodded. “Well spoken, sir. But tell me, who is this Gulo beast? Have you seen him?”

Tam answered. “No, marm, but we’ve seen his tracks, an’ they look like no other creature that ever walked this land. The pawprints are as big as those of a grown badger, but this beast has huge, curved claws, though the fur is so long that it blurs the pawmark. One other thing I must tell ye, the Gulo beast an’ its followers, about a hundred of ’em, feed off the flesh of their victims. We’ve seen the evidence, marm.”

The Badger Ruler looked grim. “I know this—we lost eight fine young hares to them. There was little left by the time my Long Patrol got to the spot. Also there is a drum, we made it for Abbot Humble of Redwall Abbey, as a gift. That has gone the way of your flag. Though such a thing cannot compare with the death of our hares, nonetheless, it is a point of honour that we take back this drum and give it to its rightful owner.”

There were heartfelt murmurs of agreement from the hares. Melesme held up a huge paw, restoring silence. “I have scouts out following the Gulo beast’s tracks. At dawn, a force of one hundred fighting hares will leave Salamandastron. They will track the vermin and their chief until they face them. It is my command that they send those evil murderers, everybeast of them, to Hellgates!”

She turned to the two squirrels. “Will you be joining in the hunt?”

Doogy nodded. “Ah’m thinkin’ ye’ll have tae be marchin’ at the double tae get at yon vermin afore we do. Eh, Tam?”

Ferdimond De Mayne pawed at his rapier hilt. “Indeed, sah, an’ I say ye’ll be eatin’ our flippin’ dust if ye try to keep up with the Long Patrol. Wot wot!”

A shout of agreement came from the hares but was quickly stifled by a stern bark from Lady Melesme. “Silence! Stop this foolishness! You officers and any other of my warriors will answer to me if you do not work together with our two friends. Is that clear?”

Captain Derron Fortindom and Lancejack Wilderry drew their sabres and saluted, replying together, “Crystal clear, marm!”

Melesme beckoned Sergeant Wonwill forward. “You are older and more experienced than any. I want you to keep an eye on these younger bucks. Understood?”

The scar-faced veteran touched a paw to his eartip. “My ’eart’n’paw, marm, h’I’ll keep the young rips in line. H’attention, Long Patrol! Ye’ve got less’n three hours to rest, provision h’an choose yore weapons. At crack o’ dawn I wants to see ye on parade, smartly turned out an’ fit t’march. Brigadier Crumshaw’ll be on the square, so ye knows wot to h’expect. Dismiss!”

Tam approached Melesme. “Marm, we need our blades.”

She stopped Ferdimond from walking off. “De Mayne, return these warriors’ weapons, please.”

There was still a rebellious glint in Ferdimond’s eye, but he complied with the order promptly. Tam accepted his shield and blades from the hare, but Doogy was out to rankle him.

“Och, mind ye dinna slice yore paws on mah claymore, laddie. ’Tis a sword for braw beasties, no’ a fancy-talkin’ rabbet like yoreself who carries a bodkin!”

Ferdimond threw Doogy’s gear on the ground. “Get ’em yourself, treewalloper. Just call me rabbit one more time, an’ y’see this rapier? I jolly well promise ye it’s no bodkin, an’ it’ll chop the insolent snout off ye!”

Doogy belted on his claymore, grinning broadly. “Oh, dearie me, ole fellow, ole chap, ye’ve got me all scairt stiff now. Ach, away with ye, rabbet!”

They stood glaring at each other until Sergeant Wonwill stepped between them. “Nah, nah, you gennelbeasts, break it up! You ’eard Lady Melesme’s h’orders, be’ave yoreselves!”

Tam pulled Doogy away. “Come on, mate, let’s find someplace to get a spot o’ shuteye for a few hours. What’s the matter with ye, Doogy? Just ignore Ferdimond!”

The little Highlander followed Tam reluctantly. “Yon taffy-nosed buck is strokin’ mah tail the wrong way. Ah’ll have tae teach him some wee manners, so ah will!”

Tam led his friend down to a grotto, thickly carpeted in dry grass and soft moss. He waved a paw under his nose. “Listen t’me, Wild Doogy Plumm. If yore bound to cross blades with that hare, then wait until we’re clear of here. I won’t have ye abusin’ Lady Melesme’s hospitality. Now curl yore tail up an’ get some sleep!”

The sergeant appeared with two steaming beakers which gave off an aromatic scent. “Get this down yore throats afore ye go t’sleep, buckoes. H’it’ll do the bumps on yore noggins a power o’ good. Mister Doogy, pay no ’eed to young De Mayne—that un’s perilous an’ lightnin’ fast with a blade, but Ferdimond’s young an’ ot’eaded like you, so steer clear of each h’other.”

Tam eyed the sergeant’s battered face curiously. “Thankee, Sarge. Ye don’t mind me sayin’, but all ye carry is a slingshot. Is that yore only weapon?”

The hare winked and held up his paws. “Weapons, mate? These is my weapons. I’m a boxin’ hare. The ole slingshot’s good for long-range hittin’, but fer close work there ain’t nothin’ better’n these two trusties!”

Doogy sipped his fragrant cordial, feeling the headache recede immediately. He inspected the sergeant’s clenched paws. “A boxin’ hare, eh? What manner o’ beastie is that, Sarge?”

Wonwill dropped into a fighting pose, lowering his brows and circling with both paws. Like lightning, he shot out a right, then a left, the air whistling around him as he danced lightly, ducking and weaving, throwing punches. “I was born to box, that’s me trade. Y’know why they calls me Wonwill, no? Then I’ll tell ye. If’n me right don’t get ye, then me left one will. Left or right, mates, either one will set ye on yore tail. Wonwill, see?”

Doogy was mightily impressed. “Ah wouldnae mind learnin’ how tae box, Sarge. Mayhap ye’ll give me some wee lessons sometime, eh?”

Wonwill relaxed, dropping his guard. “Per’aps I will, mate, when I ain’t busy lookin’ arter the young Patrollers. Mark my words, they ain’t h’experienced, but they’re Salamandastron born’n’bred. All made o’ the right stuff, an’ perilous brave. I’ve just got ter stop ’em knockin’ the stuffin’ outta one another. Know wot I mean?”

He gave Doogy a wink. “I’ll bid ye a good night now.”