Rakkety Tam

Epilogue

It is now fifteen seasons since Gulo the Savage was slain by my father. Fallen green leaves are turning to gold and brown, covering our orchard with a thick carpet, which is deliciously crisp underpaw. But what a beautiful summer it has been! Let me tell you of the trip I made, quite an adventure for a maid who has never strayed far from Redwall Abbey. What excitement!

Armel, my mother, finally persuaded Tam, my father, and my uncle, Doogy Plumm, to return the great banner to its owners. Father was willing, but Uncle Doogy did a lot of grumbling—“Och, ah’d let the auld fusspots stew in their own juice, an’ weep salty tears tae get their flag back!” Those were a few of his words.

But Mother became very bossy and had her way in the end. Dad laughs a lot when she gets like this. Soon we were on our journey—Dad, Mum, Uncle Doogy, Tergen and my mother’s dear friend, Aunt Brooky. I’d never imagined Mossflower Wood was so vast! But we were in no hurry. I was fascinated to see the campsite where my dad stole the sword of Martin back from the vermin. Oh, incidentally, Old Abbot Humble let us take the sword along in case it was needed. Uncle Doogy insisted that I wear the sword—from the day I took my first steps, he and my dad were the ones who taught me the ways of the blades. I’m told I used to wield the little Sgian Dhu; I learned to fence with it. Then, as I grew taller, I was given the dirk to use; then, finally, at the end of my eleventh season, I could use two swords—either the blade of Martin or Uncle Doogy’s claymore (which my dad still claims is his).

Mother was slightly worried about me being the sword carrier, but I remember exactly what Uncle Doogy said to reassure her—“Och, cease frettin’, Armel. The wee maid’s a better swordbeast than mahself or her great lump of a daddy. Ah ken she’d draw rings aroond us wi’ one paw!”

Well, the first stream we came to, guess what happened? We were met by a fleet of logboats! I’ve got another uncle now, a fine old fat, bearded shrew everyone calls Log a Log Togey. I like him! He told me I’d make a good Guosim, and let me steer his big logboat. Have you ever been on a stream for a few days? Sailing along peaceful, shaded waterways, letting your paw run through the water. Especially getting to sleep aboard under a canopy, lulled by the murmuring current. . . . It’s a dream! And the delicious Guosim food, what a treat!

But we did have some hair-raising moments fighting our way up a stretch of very rough rapids. Finally, though, the water calmed, and on the fourth day we said good-bye to the shrews. They were sorry to see us go, but they looked relieved to be rid of Tergen. I think shrews are not great lovers of fierce goshawks.

Not far from the stream was an abode where we spent another few, very happy days. The dwelling was the home of Yoofus Lightpaw and his wife Didjety. What a jolly pair! I even saw the famous Walking Stone, though at first I thought Rockbottom was a pawstool (silly me)! What an extraordinary creature little Rockbottom is, and what fun his owners are. On the first night we were there, Didjety made us a huge batch of her famous sausage rolls. (I say “famous,” because she gave the recipe to Friar Glisum, and now they are the favourite food of Redwall Dibbuns—and most elders, too.) I never laughed so much in my life, and neither did Aunt Brooky (and she’s laughed a lot in her life, I can tell you). We had a feast, a real celebration: Didjety sang us funny songs and did comical dances, Yoofus told us hilarious tales of his thieving adventures and Rockbottom sat on my lap all evening.

On the morning we were going, the great banner and Uncle Doogy’s claymore were missing. My Mum and Mrs. Lightpaw gave poor Yoofus such a scolding that he returned them immediately, saying, “Ah sure, I was only havin’ a liddle borrow of the grand flag an’ the big ould sword. Wasn’t I now, Rock, me ould icecake?” And do you know what? Rockbottom nodded and smiled, I’ll swear he did. Really, the nerve of those two!

Early one sunny morning, we crossed some heathlands, climbed a lot of dunes and came to some lovely tree groves. Beyond them I could see the sea, a first-time experience and a real treat for me.

Uncle Doogy began grumbling again. “Och, ah’d as soon fling this flag intae the waves than return it tae those two snooty-nosed wee braggarts!”

For a moment I thought my dad was going to do it, but Mum took Uncle Doogy by the ear and wagged a paw at them both. “If either of you two rogues even dare, we’ll chuck you in straight after it. Right, Brooky?”

Auntie Brooky enjoys anything like that. “Whoooohooohooohaha! Let’s do it, Armel. Hahahahaaa!” See what I mean?

We sat down and had lunch on the fringes of the trees. Uncle Doogy whispered to Tergen, who flew off into the groves. (The high-strung bird has been flying since the autumn following the death of Gulo the Savage.) No sooner had we finished eating than we heard a lot of scurrying and squealing from within the trees. Out tumbled a score of squirrels. Our fierce goshawk came swooping behind them. As they huddled in a terrified mass, Tergen stood over them.

Uncle Doogy clashed his claymore upon his shield and shouted, “Ah can see two wee maggots in there called Araltum an’ Idga. Shove ’em out! We want tae have words with ’em!”

The pair were pushed out by the other squirrels. Honestly, I had never set eyes on two more fat, wheezy, overdressed little beasts. Tearstained and wailing, with both their homemade crowns askew, they grovelled on the ground in front of us. A moment later, a young squirrel, almost as fat as the two of them put together, strutted out. He was fearfully ugly and had a squeaky, petulant lisp.

“Who are these cweatures? Thwow them in pwison an’ give them no bwead or dwink for thwee days!”

Uncle Doogy scowled at him. “An’ who are ye, mah bold wee barrel-bottomed babe?”

The young squirrel stamped a podgy footpaw angrily. “Insolent squiwell, you are addwessing the Cwown Pwince Woopurt. Show some wespect, an’ bow before me, wetch!”

My dad ignored him. Taking the banner, he rolled it lengthways into a long scarf. This he knotted loosely about the necks of King Araltum and his Drayqueen Idga.

Dad sounded very stern when he spoke to them. “I bring ye back the banner now, as I vowed I would. Doogy and I were fools to ever swear our oaths to ye. Release us from our bond now, Araltum. Keep your promise!”

Dad and Doogy both drew their swords. Araltum arose, trembling. He placed his paws on both blades and said, “I release you from your bonds and pledges, from hereon you may use your swords as freebeasts!” All the squirrels—including more who had emerged from the groves—drowned out any further speeches by the pompous king with their cheering and leaping about.

Little Crown Prince Roopert kicked the nearest squirrel, shouting shrilly at him, “Tweason, you’re all under awwest for tweachery!”

Pinetooth, the old squirrel he had kicked, was a longtime friend of my father. He kicked Roopert back, right on his fat little rear end. Then he winked at my dad and Uncle Doogy. “I’ve been wantin’ to do that for a while now, mates. ’Tis time Araltum an’ Idga’s rule came to an end!”

Amid happy celebrations, the squirrels marched with us from the groves down to the sea. Pinetooth, and another old squirrel named Hinjo, offered the twin crowns of Araltum and Idga to my mum and dad. Mother was magnificent. After taking both crowns and throwing them into the sea, she made a speech.

“Friends, there will be no more tyranny. From now on, you must live together in harmony. We wish you peace and long life!”

Setting our faces toward the mountain fortress of Salamandastron, which loomed to the north like a silent sentinel guarding the shores, we marched off. The jubilant squirrels cheered us until they were mere dots on the tideline, far behind us.

I always thought Redwall Abbey was a big place, but the sight of Salamandastron, from close up, took my breath away. Simply colossal! What a delegation came out to meet us! Though I had never seen the hares before (they had left Redwall long before I was born), I was able to put names to some of their faces—Sergeant Wonwill, Captain Derron Fortindom, Lancejack Wilderry, Flunkworthy, Folderon and a couple who had been wed for five seasons now, Ferdimond De Mayne and Kersey. These two had their infant son with them, a chubby creature named Dauncey De Mayne (Dauncey, in memory of Kersey’s twin brother). The Long Patrol put on a Guard of Honour, escorting us into the large Banquet Hall. A feast was held to welcome us—and, I must say, those regimental cooks did us proud! I was especially overawed by Lady Melesme; she was every bit the Badger Ruler of Salamandastron. Tall, stately and dignified, dressed in only simple homespun robes, she radiated serenity and respect. Now I know why badgers are regarded as such special creatures.

We spent six glorious days at the mountain. In my spare time this winter, I plan to write a journal to recount this experience, though it will be difficult to properly describe what a fascinating place the mountain is—so shrouded it is in grandeur, legend and mystery.

I was loath to leave when the time came, and I promised to visit them in the future. We left there with an escort of twoscore Long Patrol hares to guide us back home. Actually, it was twoscore and three—Ferdimond and Kersey, together with baby Dauncey, are coming back to the Abbey as our resident hares. Sadly, we left minus one of our number: the goshawk Tergen had elected to stay on at Salamandastron as lookout and scout to the regiment. Such a fierce heart as he will, I’m sure, find his true destiny there among the warriors.

What more can I tell you, my friend? We are back once more in our beloved home, and the autumn season is upon us. Burlop Cellarhog has predicted the harvest will begin tomorrow at dawn. Tonight there is a beautiful harvest moon. Mother and I will be taking all the Dibbuns, including little Dauncey De Mayne, out to our Abbey pond. There we will cast pebbles at the moon’s reflection in the water. They say that if you make a wish before the ripples reach the pond’s edge, your wish will be granted. So I will cast my pebble right into the centre of the moon’s reflection and make a wish for all of us—the creatures of Redwall, my family and friends, and a special one, just for both of us. I wish for the harvest to be an abundant one, and I wish that the feast we have tomorrow night in the orchard will have the most beautiful decorations of flowers and many-hued lanterns. I wish for peace and prosperity, love and happiness for all. I know I will not have to wish that the food will be at its most delicious. How else could it be at our Abbey? I will lay a place at our table for you and hope you can join us, if not in body, then in the world of your imagination, where you can visit us any time.

Melanda MacBurl. Recorder of Redwall Abbey

in Mossflower Country

He lost a sword an’ gained a sword,

tae triumph at the slaughter.

He’s met a Sister, found a wife

an’ gained a bonny daughter!

Tam took his bond back off the fool,

he left him sore an’ grievin’.

An’ gave tae friends o’ former days,

a grand auld taste o’ freedom!

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

the drums are beatin’ braw.

Och, now ye’ve gained a heart’s desire,

ye’ll no more march tae war!