Rakkety Tam (11 page)

 

Gulo had becomed accustomed to the fair weather of this new land, but he was not a lover of rain, or even drizzle. On his orders, his guards had erected a canvas over a low tree limb. There he sat, gazing sourly into a smoky fire, awaiting the arrival of better conditions.

Nobeast was more surprised than the wolverine when Urfig came hurriedly staggering out of the mist. Scattering
the fire, he lurched into the awning, knocking the canvas loose.

Collapsing in a heap, the captain gasped hoarsely, “Askor, it was thy brother Askor, Lord!”

Gulo sprang up. Grabbing the captain, he pulled him from the wreckage and hauled him upright. “My brother—where, when? Speak, fool!”

Urfig did not have to put on an act. Genuinely terrified, he babbled out a reply. “I was almost killed, Lord, knocked senseless. I have just awakened and come here, straight to thee! During the night, Sire, thy brother Askor came. He stole my sword and thy banner! He knocked me over the head with a pole, sire. . . .”

Gulo shook the fox like a rag, covering his face in spittle as he bellowed, “Was it really Askor? Which way did he go?”

Urfig pointed a trembling paw in the direction taken by Yoofus. “Truly, 'twas thy brother, Lord. Methinks he went that way, north.”

Dragging the captain along by his ears, Gulo yelled out orders. “Guards! Guards! To the north! Find me a trail!”

Yanking Urfig close, he brought him eye to eye. “The Walking Stone, did he have the Walking Stone?”

The hapless captain, up on tippaws, felt as though his ears were being pulled out by the roots. “Mighty One, I did not see, it happened so swiftly!”

The ermine Garfid, who was Gulo's best tracker, was down on all fours, examining the ground. “Over here, Sire. I see marks!”

Gulo was quivering all over as he knelt beside the tracker. “What do ye see? Tell me, are they those of that brother of mine?”

Garfid glanced over the wolverine's shoulder and caught the nod from Urfig's frightened face. The tracker was no fool; he took the wise course, knowing death could be the result of an unfavourable answer to his ruthless chieftain. “Only mighty beasts such as thee can leave a deep clawmark, Lord. The blurring of the edges means that
the creature had long-haired paws like thine. The drizzling rain has not helped this trail, but it looks very like thy brother's marks, Sire.”

Gulo the Savage threw back his head, letting out a great screeching howl of triumph. “Yaaaaheeeeegh! I knew it, 'tis Askor! We go north, now. Now!”

Tam sat on the streambank with Doogy, Ferdimond and Wonwill. It was long gone dawn, and no cooking fires had been lit. They breakfasted on hard oatcakes and apples, with streamwater to wash them down.

Doogy blew rainwater off his swollen nose. “Ach, 'tis no' much of a day tae be goin' on with!”

Wonwill chuckled drily. “Wot, complaints already, Mister Plumm? Ye've not been with the Patrol more'n a day or two an' lookit the fun you've 'ad. A nice liddle stroll of a march, a fight, an' now yore moanin' about the beautiful mornin' an' a free drizzlewash. Ye don't know yore born, mate!”

Ferdimond gazed gloomily out at the prevailing mist and rain. “Lucky old us, wot. I say, Sarge, where's the Brigadier got to?”

Wonwill cocked a paw behind him. “Saw 'im go up t'the top o' the bank yonder. I've gotta feelin' Brig Crumshaw'll be wantin' me shortly.”

As if in answer, the brigadier's voice called from the banktop. “Sergeant Wonwill, d'ye mind attendin' me, please?”

The hare's tough features broke into a grin. “See, I told ye! C'mon, buckoes, let's see wot the h'officer requires.”

Brigadier Crumshaw waved his swagger stick at the flatlands in front of them. “Y'see this, confounded mist an' blinkin' drizzle, too. Can't abide the blitherin' stuff. Right, Sergeant, quick's the word an' sharp's the action, wot! Can't mope around here waitin' for gallopers all day, eh?”

The sergeant was aware of his officer's plan. He saluted. “H'exactly, sah, just as y'say. H'I take it ye want the Patrol up an' marchin', sah. But wot about young Kersey an' Dauncey, sah?”

Tam shouldered his shield. “We'll prob'ly meet up with 'em on the march.”

Crumshaw pointed his stick at Tam. “Well said that, chap! Brisk march'll get the miseries out of us, wot! Maybe the blinkin' weather'll buck up soon.”

The Long Patrol were glad to form ranks and march off, even though their paws squished on the damp grass.

Doogy trudged along looking thoughtful. “Suppose those wee gallopers—Kersey'n'Dauncey is it?—suppose they miss us in all this mist?”

Wonwill kept his eyes straight ahead. “That's a thought, Mister Plumm. Mister De Mayne, sah, would ye oblige us with h'a song? Sing out good'n'loud so the gallopers will 'ear ye. That should do the trick.”

Ferdimond coughed and tried to look distressed. “Actually I've got a bit of a jolly old frog in me throat this mornin', Sarge. Couldn't some other chap do the singin'?”

Wonwill grinned mischievously. “Nah, nah, young Ferdimond, h'orders is h'orders, let the frog do the singin', eh?”

The young hare had quite a fair tenor voice, which rang out nicely as he rendered an old barracks room ballad.

 

“When I joined the regiment my comrades said to me,

there is one beast we fear more than the foe.

An army marches on its stomach, so 'tis plain to see,

that fool we call the cook has got to go!

 

O the cook! O the cook!

If words could kill, or just a dirty look,

he'd have snuffed it long ago, turned his paws up doncha know,

he'd be gladly written off the record book!

 

What a greasy fat old toad, that assassin of the road,

we tried to hire him to the enemy.

But they smelt the stew he made, mercy on us they all prayed,

we'll surrender, you can have him back for free!

 

O the cook! O the cook!

He could poison a battalion with his chuck.

I've seen him boilin' cabbage, an' the filthy little savage,

takes a bath in it to wash off all the muck!

 

He made a batch of scones, big grey lumpy solid ones,

the Sergeant lost four teeth at just one bite.

Then an officer ordered me, sling them at the enemy,

an' those that we don't slay we'll put to flight!

 

O the cook! O the cook!

He's stirring porridge with his rusty hook.

Playin' hopscotch with the toast, he's the one that we hate most,

tonight we're goin' to roast that bloomin' cook!”

 

A shout came from out the mist. “What ho, the Long Patrol!”

The brigadier called in reply, “Gallopers come in an' make your report!”

Kersey and Dauncey came bounding out of the mist. Slowing to the march, they told the tale, each in turn. Kersey went first.

“Followed the vermin to the woodlands, sah! They entered Mossflower at the southwest fringe, on a track twixt some alders an' buckthorns.”

Dauncey followed his sister with hardly a break. “We got jolly close t'the blighters, sah. Some nasty-lookin' bits of work among that bloomin' bunch. Guess what? We saw the Gulo beast, too. My word, what a blinkin' horror! Hate to bump into him on a dark night, wot!”

Fixing his monocle rigidly upon the pair, the brigadier fumed. “Confounded, perilous young buffoons! My orders were that ye kept a safe distance from those murderin' cannibals. They ain't green behind the ears, y'know. You could've both been captured an' eaten alive!”

Kersey pouted airily. “Catch two gallopers like us, sah? Fat flippin' chance. All those clods would catch'd be mouthfuls of our dust!”

Brigadier Crumshaw looked as if he were about to explode. His moustache bristled as he thundered at the gallopers, “Silence! Insubordination in the bally ranks, wot! Sergeant, place these insolent young blighters on firewood gatherin' an' potwashin' duties as of now!”

Dauncey gave a snort of disbelief. “But, sah, that's not fair!”

Crumshaw bellowed at the unfortunate pair, “Enough, I say! One more word from either of you malcontents an' I'll have ye clapped under close arrest an' marched back to Salamandastron to cool your paws in the guardhouse! I'm relievin' you of scoutin' an' gallopin' duties until ye learn to follow orders correctly. Wot!”

Sergeant Wonwill kept his eyes front as he spoke to the downcast twins. “No arguments. You 'eard the h'officer, young 'uns, off y'go now. Report to Corporal Wopscutt. 'E'll show you yore chores.”

Kersey and Dauncey saluted before marching off stiffly, tears of hot indignation burning bright in their eyes. The brigadier watched their retreating figures with a fatherly eye.

“Hah, young pair o' buckoes, wot! One day they'll make splendid officers an' perilous warriors, mark m'words. But they've got to learn some jolly hard lessons first if we're to keep 'em from bein' slain. Right, Sergeant?”

Wonwill's tough face mellowed. “Right y'are, sah, though ye can't 'elp feelin' sorry for the young rips. But who's goin' t'take their place as gallopers, sah?”

With a sweep of his swagger stick, Crumshaw indicated Tam, Doogy and Ferdimond. “These three ruffians I fancy, wot!”

Wonwill could not help a passing glance at Doogy's solid little figure. “Hmm, 'ardly cut out for gallopin', sah.”

Tam interjected. “Maybe not, Sarge, but I don't think the Brigadier's lookin' for gallopers. Things could get a bit sticky keepin' tabs on a hundred vermin. We'll need beasts who've seen a bit of action, good stalkers who can use their judgement. Eh, sah?”

The brigadier's swagger stick tapped Tam's chest. “Took the words out o'me mouth, MacBurl. You an' Plumm here have been around the trees a few times, I can tell. As for young De Mayne, he could jolly well benefit from the experience. He'll do all the gallopin' needed at a pinch.”

Doogy saluted the brigadier with his claymore. “Ah take it we're tae be the braw new scouts for a wee while. Ah'm wonderin' whether tae be flattered or battered, sah.”

Crumshaw smiled briefly. “Draw ration packs from Corporal Wopscutt an' go to it, you chaps. Report back this evenin'. We'll meet up by those alders'n'buckthorns young Kersey mentioned. That'll be all for now. Dismissed!”

 

Three sets of footpaws pounded the mist-shrouded flatlands, headed northeast for the woodlands. Ferdimond was way out in front, with Tam a close second and Doogy trying gallantly but struggling at the rear.

After a while, the little Highlander slowed to a jog. Clutching a paw to his side, he called out to the hare, “Will ye no' slack off a wee bit, ye lang-legged hairpin? Ah wasnae built for dashin' aboot like a scalded frog!”

Ferdimond decreased his pace, grinning at Tam. “I say, I can't see little barrel bottom in this blinkin' mist. Where d'you supposed he's got to, wot?”

Tam caught up with Ferdimond and took hold of his
paw. “Not so fast, mate, the woods won't run away. They'll still be there when we arrive.”

Doogy came out of the mist, panting like a bellows. “Och, there ye are, ah thought ye'd got lost. Ah'll walk in front an' ye can follow me at a respectable pace.”

Ferdimond chuckled good-naturedly. “Oh, how can I soar like an eagle when I'm surrounded by waddlin' ducks, eh?”

Winking slyly at Tam, Doogy stuck out his footpaw and tripped the young hare. Obligingly, he helped Ferdimond up. “Ah'd go easy if'n I were ye. More haste less speed, mah auld grannie used tae say.”

The hare brushed dew from his tunic. “Wise creature, your old grannie. Point taken, old lad.”

Doogy did an elaborate bow. “Thank ye, old boy, old lad, old chap, wot wot, an' toodly blinkin' pip, eh!”

Tam walked alongside them, laughing. “You sounded just like Ferdimond then, mate.”

Doogy straightened his cap, tugging at his eartips. “Aye, well ah've decided tae become a hare, ye know.”

Ferdimond scoffed. “You, a bally hare? Right, then I'll be a Highland squirrel. How'd that suit ye?”

Tam shook his head. “Go on, let's hear ye then.”

Ferdimond adopted Doogy's truculent swagger comically. “Och the noo, ah like a wee stroll tae the woods on a misty day, 'cos ah cannae dash aboot like yon wee hare.”

He looked at them trying to keep their faces straight. “Come on, you chaps, how did I do? The truth now!”

Tam burst into gales of laughter as Doogy complained indignantly, “Ach, if ah sounded like that ah would've swam oot intae the sea an' drownded mahself long since!”

Ferdimond replied huffily, “Really, is that a fact? Well, if I sounded like you did tryin' to imitate me, I'd have begged that Gulo chap to scoff me pretty sharpish!”

They continued ragging and making good-humoured fun of one another as they marched. The mist began lifting in the early noon, and Tam spotted the treeline ahead. “Keep it down now, mates. We don't need to advertise our
presence to any foebeasts who might be around. We'll split up now and circle in from three ways. Doogy, take the left, I'll take the right. Ferdy, you go straight in but keep yore eyes peeled, mate. See you both by that big old alder tree yonder. Good luck.”

They reached the alder with no untoward happenings. Tam picked up the vermin trail. “They went this way. Can you track these marks, Ferdy?”

The hare unsheathed his long rapier. “ 'Course I can. They look pretty plain t'me, Tam. But why d'you want me to track, wot?”

Doogy could not help sounding slightly self-satisfied. “Because, mah lanky friend, we'll be takin' tae the trees. Us squirrels are fair speedy beasts up in yon foliage. Bein' a groundcrawler, you'll have tae stay down here, auld boy!”

Tam sprang up into the buckthorns. “Don't worry, we'll keep in touch with you. The mist is gone now. We can see more from up here. Take care, Ferdy.”

Doogy chuckled maliciously. “Aye, an' don't ye go trippin' up an' fallin' over now.”

The woodlands were still and eerily silent as Ferdimond made his way forward. There was neither wind nor breeze, but the drizzle had collected on branch and leaf. It plopped and dropped in the stillness, until Ferdimond was wet through. But he followed the trail dutifully until he came into a glade, where Tam and Doogy were waiting for him.

The young hare looked around. “Feathers everywhere! They must've slaughtered quite a few birds, confounded savages!”

Tam ran his dirkpoint through the ashes of a fire. “This ain't properly out, see? Look at the half-finished bird there, and the broken eggs, too. It looks to me like these vermin left here in a big hurry, eh Doogy?”

His companion picked up a broken shell necklace and a pouch of slingstones. “Aye, ah wonder why they went in such a haste, Tam.”

The warrior squirrel began climbing into a nearby oak.
“I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Doogy, you stay here and keep yore eyes open. Ferdy, time for ye t'do a spot of gallopin'. Make it back t'the patrol an' tell the Brigadier what's happenin'. It may be important.”

Tam dropped his shield to the ground so he would not be impeded. A moment later he was whipping through the middle terraces to the north. As he travelled, it was quite easy to track the vermin trail below. Gulo and his band had pushed forward heedlessly, breaking twigs, flattening shrubbery and generally leaving a broad path. It was well into noontide when Tam heard the vermin up ahead. A little further and he would have them in sight. He halted in the broad limbs of a chestnut tree to catch his breath and check his blades. Tam knew that when he reached the vermin, silence would be essential. Wrapping his plaid cloak into a tight bundle about his shoulder, he adjusted the claymore in his belt so that it could be quickly drawn.