Rakkety Tam

Prologue

My name is Melanda. I am the youngest creature ever to be appointed to the position of Recorder at Redwall Abbey. My teacher and mentor is a kind old mouse called Sister Screeve. She has retired from being Recorder now, taking up the job of Assistant Gardener to Brother Demple, a remarkable feat for one who has seen so many seasons come and go. She was the one who suggested that I should write a volume for our Abbey Archives about the time we now refer to as “The Seasons of the Savage”—a fearsome title, I grant you, but one that I felt was appropriate to this narrative. I was not born at the time, so my research into the happenings was both long and painstaking. However, now that my work is completed, I would like to thank everybeast who contributed by providing their recollections of those harrowing events—all of the Redwallers, hares of the Long Patrol Regiment and others too numerous to cite here. I will not mention specific names lest I cause any offence by forgetting to include any one of my contributors.

My narrative tells of a time when our Abbey was in peril from a beast none had ever encountered in Mossflower Country, a brutal and horrific barbarian on an insane quest for power and vengeance. But I will tell you no more than that for the present. I leave you to read on and judge for yourselves, my friends.

Melanda. Recorder of Redwall Abbey

in Mossflower Country

BOOK ONE

“The warrior who sold

his sword”

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

the drums are beatin’ braw.

Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam,

are ye marchin’ off tae war?

A warrior from the borders came,

a buckler o’er his shoulder,

a claymore swingin’ at his side,

there’s no’ a beast who’s bolder!

O Rakkety Tam has sold his sword,

Ah scarce believe he’s done it.

He swore an oath untae a fool,

who took his pledge upon it!