Rakkety Tam

20

Abbot Humble and his team of Redwallers helped the Long Patrol carry their wounded into the Abbey. He walked alongside the stretcher on which the brigadier was being carried.

Humble held the hare’s paw. “I can’t thank you enough for coming to our rescue the way you did, sir.”

Crumshaw’s jaw tightened as he was jolted slightly. “Don’t mention it, Father. All in the line o’ duty, y’know.”

Captain Fortindom and Sergeant Wonwill carried the body of Dauncey between them. Ferdimond De Mayne came hurrying over to place a comforting paw about the shoulders of Dauncey’s twin sister, Kersey.

“There, there now, old gel, what can one say? Your brother went down bravely. He was a perilous warrior, wot!”

Kersey was dry-eyed and tight-faced, obviously in deep shock. A kindly molewife intervened to take care of her. “You’m leave thiz yurr young ’un to oi, zurr. Cumm ee with oi, moi dearie. Ee bee’s needen a gurt rest.”

Sister Armel and Brooky were assisting a hare who had an arrow protruding from his footpaw. As they came through the gate, Tam joined her, still carrying the sword of Martin. “Armel, how are you?”

She nodded at her patient. “Much better than this poor hare, thank you. I heard how you leaped the Abbey wall and slew five of those brutes single-pawed. It was a very brave thing to do, Tam.”

Shuffling awkwardly, the border warrior chuckled. “You’ve been listening to rumours—Doogy was with me. We scaled down the wall. It’s not hard t’do when you know how. As to slayin’ the five vermin, well, I was just in the right place at the right moment.”

Doogy scowled as he trundled past, trailing his sword. “Och, if he fell doon a well, he’d come up wi’ a cake in his paw. Next time yer passin’ oot braw swords, lassie, dinna forget tae save one for the bonny han’some Highlander!”

The pretty squirrelmaid passed the wounded hare to them. “I will, sir, if you can find me a bonny handsome Highlander! Will you and Tam help this patient up to my Infirmary? Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

When they arrived at the Sister’s sickbay, there were other casualties waiting besides the Abbot and Brigadier Crumshaw. Though he was the most seriously wounded, the brigadier refused to be treated until all his injured creatures had been seen to.

He chatted with Tam as he waited. “Heard all about ye, MacBurl. From what I’m told, you’re a brave an’ perilous fighter, wot! Six o’ the blaggards an’ ye put paid to ’em all, single-pawed, by jingo!”

Tam corrected him. “ ’Twas only five, sir, an’ I was just doin’ my duty. I was very sorry to hear about young Dauncey, he was a gallant young galloper. I hope I got the scum who slew him, sah.”

The brigadier heaved a great sigh. “Young life like that, wasted. My fault, really. I should’ve kept the rascal on cookhouse duties. But who knows? Maybe his luck would’ve run out in a different way. Ah me, I tell ye, Tam, the Long Patrol is a hard an’ dangerous life for anybeast.”

Abbot Humble nodded in agreement. “Indeed it is, Brigadier. But where would the peaceable creatures be without their protection? We’d have been long ago overrun and enslaved, or killed by vermin.”

Tam rested his chin on the pommel stone of Martin’s wondrous sword. “Aye, yore right there, Father, an’ so are ye, sir. We all choose our different paths. Some are born gentle, whilst others are destined to be warriors. Look at Doogy an’ me—all we’ve ever lived by are our blades. We could no more live quietly in an Abbey than Abbot Humble could take to the sword. None of us was forced to do anything against our will. Poor young Dauncey, he was just one of the unlucky beasts. He loved gallopin’ an’ fightin’ with the Patrol. If he had to die, I don’t suppose he’d have had it any other way. It could happen to any warrior. Our fates are in the wind!”

Sister Armel brought her trolley of dressings and herbs across to where Crumshaw lay. She eyed Tam curiously. “You’re quite a deep thinker!”

Doogy looked up from a roll of bandage he was playing with. “Aye, lassie, ye ken he learned all his deep thinkin’ from me. Ah had a fearful job tryin’ tae teach him!”

She slapped Doogy’s paw and took the bandage from him. “Do something useful, Mister Plumm. Take hold of the Brigadier’s paw. Tam, would you take his other paw, please? You’ll have to hold him still whilst I remove that arrow.”

The Highlander took a grip on Crumshaw’s paw. “Och, yon Sister’s a fearsome creature, Tam. She’s a braw pawslapper, too!”

Smiling, Armel ignored the jibe. She worked skilfully on the wound, explaining as she went. “Luckily the arrow went right through. If I break the shaft, it pulls out easily from the back, see? Hmm, there’s no broken bone in there, it’s a clean injury. I’m not hurting you—am I, sir?”

Holding the barbed point and the broken arrow up to his monocle, the brigadier shook his head. “Not at all, m’dear. Wish I could jolly well steal you away t’be the healer at Salamandastron. Pretty gel like you, who knows what she’s doin’! Not like old blood’n’fluff Hackworthy, the hare who’s the present sawbones. Hah! Saw a young chap go to him with an ingrown pawclaw one time. D’ye know what the confounded buffoon did? Pulled two o’ the poor beast’s teeth out, wot wot!”

Armel stifled a giggle. “I’ve packed the wound with boiled stream moss, some sanicle leaves and curled dock leaves. We’ll bandage it firmly but not too tight. Drink this cordial, it’s made from motherwort and gentian root. It will ease any pain and help you to rest.”

Tam winked at the Infirmary Sister. “That must have took some deep thinking to learn all about herbs an’ dressin’s, eh?”

The pretty young squirrelmaid answered modestly. “Not really, just a lot of bitter experience and hard concentration. Now, shall we escort the wounded down to lunch? I’m sure you’ll enjoy Redwall cooking.”

Brigadier Crumshaw leaned on Tam and Doogy, chortling. “By the left! Redwall scoff! I’ve visited here before, doncha know. Finest vittles anywhere! Makes our tucker taste like stale haversack rations an’ hardtack. Lead on, sweet Sister, point us to the blinkin’ trough!”

However, before anybeast could eat, there was a burial to attend, that of the unfortunate galloper Dauncey. Foremole Bruffy and his crew had seen to the digging arrangements. It was a quiet little spot at the corner of the southwest wall, shaded by an old cherry-plum tree which had rooted itself into the base of the wall. Kersey, unable to bear watching her twin laid in his grave, sat stone-faced by the fire in Cavern Hole, attended by the homely molewife.

After the burial, the hares of the Long Patrol sang a short verse as a farewell to their comrade.

“Now the sunny glades are silent,

where our fallen warriors lay.

As in memory we treasure

all the brave who marched away.

Through the dusty seasons rolling,

o’er our passing out parade,

how we laughed and sang together,

Oh your face ’twill never fade.”

Most of the younger hares broke down in tears as Sergeant Wonwill stepped forward and placed the galloper’s empty despatch purse and belt on the flowerstrewn mound.

The brigadier wiped something from his eye, replaced his monocle and addressed his command. “Vigilance in battle, alertness on the march! Somethin’ everybeast o’ the Long Patrol must bear in mind. Obedience to the officers’ orders an’ strict attention to the advice of veteran comrades, vitally important! I say vitally, because if ye adhere t’these rules, it may save your life. This young galloper lost his life. I don’t want to witness any more lives, particularly young ’uns, lost needlessly. You march to the warrior’s way, learn those ways well an’ burn ’em into your minds. You’ll all get your chance to avenge the memory of young Dauncey in the comin’ days. That’ll help him to rest easy, knowin’ his friends are continuin’ the fight against evil an’ brutal vermin. That’s all I’ve got to say. Sergeant!”

Wonwill threw a smart salute. “Sah! All ranks t’the mess, an’ remember yore manners in front o’ these kind creatures. Dismiss!”

Nobeast could ever be gloomy for long at Redwall Abbey. The newcomers were made heartily welcome by the Abbot and his creatures. Friar Glisum and his helpers had the kitchens working to capacity. With his ample past experience in feeding hares, the good Friar was aware of the huge appetites they possessed and was well prepared to cater to the Long Patrol.

Glisum bustled about his kitchens, checking everything for quality and quantity. “Salad, we need mountains of good spring salad! Chop more carrots, add extra radishes! Borty, that little few stalks of celery won’t be nearly enough. Go and get some more from Brother Demple, lots more!”

Borty the mole tugged his snout. “Aye, zurr, an h’oill fetch ee gurt load o’ waterycress, an’ scallions an’ leekers, too. Yurr Mudge, bring ee likkle cart an’ lend oi a paw!”

Skipper strolled into the kitchens, dipping a paw into a big wooden bowl and licking it with relish. “Hmm, that tastes nice, though it’d be better with a dash of ’otroot pepper in it.”

Glisum raised his ladle threateningly. “Away, you great plank-ruddered marauder! That’s my own special recipe—rosehip vinegar and almond-oil salad dressing with grated dandelion bud. Anyhow, what are you doing in my kitchens, eh?”

The otter chieftain stole a hot scone from a tray which had just come out of the ovens. He retreated to the door, jiggling it between both paws. “Abbot says to tell ye lunch’ll be out on the lawns. He said to serve it buffet style, ’cos he wants a full banquet supper laid out in Great Hall this evenin’.”

Glisum threw up his paws in despair. “Well, this is a fine time to be telling me that! Ulba, please run down to the cellars right away. Tell Burlop to bring up the trestle with the folding legs. Have it set out on the lawn, not too far from the steps. Everybeast sits on those steps when we have lunch out there. Now, what next? Mushroom and onion gravy for the pasties, hazelnuts for the fruit slices, damson glaze for the pear flan . . . Cheese! I knew I’d forgotten something, ripe yellow cheese for the grilled chestnut dip.”