Rakkety Tam

40

Tam recalled distantly his very young days, when he had grasped a thistle whilst picking flowers for his mother, or was it his mother? He could not recall who, but it was a creature with deep, dark eyes, murmuring to him, soft as a summer stream, “Hold still now, it’s nearly done. There, that did it!”

Opening his eyes, he found himself lying in Redwall Infirmary on a spotless white-sheeted bed. Sister Armel shielded his eyes from the midnoon sunlight pouring in through the open window. She put aside a length of fine flax and a small thorn needle, reaching for some warm water, ointment and dressings.

Still dazed, the Borderer murmured dozily, “Did y’get all the prickles out? I didn’t cry, did I?”

Doogy Plumm’s voice answered him. “Nay, ye didnae cry, ye were a good wee babe. Hahahaha!”

Sister Armel spoke severely to the Highlander. “Mister Plumm, stop moving his paw and hold it still, or I’ll never get this dressing on!”

Tam came fully awake now. He tried to sit up but was pushed back down firmly by the Infirmary Sister. Craning his neck, he could see the crowd gathered in the passage beyond the open door. Sister Armel, Doogy and Abbot Humble were the only ones allowed inside the room.

Slightly bewildered, Tam looked questioningly at Doogy. “What happened? Oooh, my leg feels stiff!”

Armel tied off the paw bandage, explaining briefly, “Your leg should feel stiff, Mister MacBurl. It was cut to the bone by that creature’s claws. I’ve put it in a splint. Your left paw was almost sliced through by Martin’s sword. You were holding the blade when that awful beast fell upon you. I’ve stitched it up and it should heal properly, providing you keep it still and get lots of rest!”

Tam wrinkled his nose at Doogy. “She’s being bossy again, mate. I can always tell when she’s in that mood, ’cos she calls me Mister MacBurl. All I can remember from out there is passing out. Tell me, what really went on?”

Doogy began playing their old game, speaking to Tam in mock bad temper. “Ah’ll tell ye what happened, laddie. Ye ruined mah best an’ only claymore! Och, ah don’t know what sort o’ steel Martin’s sword is made of, but it cut great chunks out o’ mah blade. When ah picked it up, mah poor claymore fell in two pieces! Oh, an’ another thing, yore shield will nae go intae battle again. ’Tis battered an’ holed an’ bended a’most in two halves. An’ what possessed ye tae sharp its edge all around like a blade, eh?”

Tam laid his head back on the pillow. “Oh, that was a little tip I got from Martin the Warrior.”

Doogy Plumm threw up his paws in resignation. “Och, that explains everythin’. He should’ve been called Martin the Destroyer o’ Weapons. That’s a bonny claymore an’ a fine buckler completely destroyed, thanks tae him!”

Abbot Humble and Armel could not help smiling as they listened to both warriors wryly arguing.

“Yer a terrible beast, Doogy Plumm! Sittin’ tied nice an’ comfy to a stake whilst I’m left fightin’ Gulo. By the bye, did I win, or did ye take a nap an’ miss it all?”

“Aye, ah took a wee doze, but they tell me ye cut off ole Gulo’s head wi’ yer shield edge. Personally, ah don’t believe it. Ah think he slew hisself, ’cos he was a-feared ah’d break loose tae teach him a lesson. His head’s still in the ditch. Ye can go an’ ask him yerself, though ah dinnae ken he’ll want tae talk to ye anymore!”

Tam grimaced. “Aye, he must be a bad loser, Doogy. I suppose ye let the other vermin escape?”

The Highlander scratched his tail. “Well, we were considerin’ it. The rest of the vermin fought hard, but that Cap’n Fortindom, he’s no’ very fussy on vermin. Him an’ Wonwill finished ’em afore we got the chance. Och, ah’ll tell ye, Tam, those shrews were no’ pleased at all!”

Tam looked mystified. “What shrews?”

Doogy gave him a jaundiced glance. “Do ye not recall Log a Log Togey tellin’ ye he was goin’ tae fetch help when ye parted company? Ye’ve got some explainin’ tae do, laddie. The Cap’n an’ Wonwill had no sooner put paid tae the last vermin when who comes chargin’ oot o’ the trees but Togey an’ tenscore o’ Guosim, armed tae the teeth an’ roarin’ blood’n’slaughter! Mind, that was nothin’ compared tae auld Friar Glisum when he saw he had two hunnerd more mouths tae feed fer a few days. So that’s mah bad news. Now, have ye got any good news fer me?”

Tam winced as Doogy patted his injured paw absently. “Good news, aye. Did ye hear I got my claymore back, an’ Araltum’s Royal Banner, too? Skipper found a hole in the streambank where that thievin’ volerobber had hidden ’em!”

Doogy grinned. “So ah heard. As a matter o’ fact, ah talked the good Sister Armel intae givin’ me yore claymore, seein’ as how ye ruined mah claymore wi’ yon hardsteel sword ye were carryin’. Ah thought ’twas only fair!”

Tam sat up, outraged, but Armel pushed him back down before explaining herself. “I was only acting for the best, Mister MacBurl. Besides, what would you be needing two swords for?”

Tam spluttered, “But one of ’em belongs to Redwall. It’s Martin’s sword, not mine!”

The Infirmary Sister shrugged. “Well, it’s always there, should you need to defend Redwall against foebeasts. Oh, I sewed the tears in your banner and I washed and pressed it. I must say it looks a bit more acceptable now.”

Tam, however, was not listening to Armel. He was raving on at Doogy Plumm. “Hah, some mate you are! Yore worse’n that Yoofus Lightpaw, wheedlin’ my best claymore off an innocent Infirmary Sister. Shame on ye! There’s nobeast more disgustin’ than a claymore thief. Huh, I’d best hide my dirk an’ Sgian Dhu before ye take a fancy t’them, too!”

Armel waved her paws sternly. “Enough, I’ve heard enough! Clear this room so that my patient can get some rest. Out you go, Mister Plumm, and you, too, Father Abbot. Be off with you! And the rest of you hanging about that passage outside, have you no chores downstairs? Begone everybeast!”

Humble protested, “But I was just sitting here quietly!”

Tam winked at him. “I’d go if I were you, Father. She’s in one of her bossy moods. See how her chin sticks out?”

The pretty young squirrel tried not to smile. “One more word out of you, Mister MacBurl, and . . . !”

Tam scowled fiercely. “And you’ll what?”

She smiled sweetly. “And I’ll have Friar Glisum make us a nice tray of afternoon tea for two. So what do you think of that, Mister MacBurl, eh?”

Rakkety Tam MacBurl gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Sister Armel!”