The Abbot watched Corporal Wopscutt wolfing his way through a mound of salad and swigging pale cider furiously. “Indeed, they don’t seem to stint themselves at mealtimes. ‘Perilous scoffing,’ I’ve heard them call it. I remember, in old Friar Furdle’s time, he used to say, ‘I’d sooner feed a hare half a day than a full season.’ Furdle certainly had a point there.”
Tam and Doogy brought their laden platters from the table and sat beside Armel and Brooky. The border warrior dipped a grilled chestnut in melted cheese and bit into it. “No wonder you like Abbey life, Armel. This lunch is superb!”
The Infirmary Sister sipped at her beaker of plum cordial. “I’m glad you like it. What’s the matter with your friend up there, doesn’t he like company?”
Tergen was perched on a dormitory windowsill, making inroads to a sizable slice of pear flan.
Doogy nodded in the goshawk’s direction. “Och, he cannae get away from the wee ones. As soon as yore Dibbuns found out he wasnae goin’ tae eat them, they all wanted tae play wi’ him.”
Tam took up the matter of the goshawk with Armel. “I don’t know how Tergen got up there, he has an injured wing. See, the one that flaps down by his side? He was wounded by a vermin arrow. I was wonderin’, Armel, with your knowledge of herbs an’ healin’, could you do anything for him? ’Tis a sad thing to see a bird like that hobblin’ about, unable to fly.”
The pretty Sister readily agreed. “Indeed it is. Bring him up to the Infirmary later, I’ll see what I can do. You do travel in some odd company, Tam—a wounded hawk and a thief! By the way, I haven’t seen Yoofus about. Where d’you suppose he’s got to?”
Sitting close by, Brother Gordale could not help overhearing the conversation. He tapped Tam’s shoulder. “Pardon me, but I saw the water vole ye call Yoofus. As soon as lunch was served, he filled himself a platter and went off down to the south wall. Mayhaps he’s a trifle bashful around others.”
Doogy questioned the mouse Gatekeeper. “Was he carryin’ a bundle an’ sword like mine, sir?”
Gordale thought for a moment. “Yes, he was actually. . . .”
The Gatekeeper got no further. Tam and Doogy were off and running down to the south wall.
When Doogy saw the small south wickergate hanging ajar, he stamped his footpaw down. “Ah knew it! The saucy wee robber, he’s made off with yore claymore an’ the flag. Ach, I’ll love tae get mah paws on the thievin’ rascal!”
Tam closed the wickergate and bolted it. “So would I, mate, but he’s long gone now. I’ll find him sooner or later, an’ I’ll mend his thievin’ ways for him. I just hope he doesn’t fall into the clutches of Gulo an’ his vermin first. You wouldn’t wish that on anybeast, not even a thief. Ah well, back to lunch, Mister Plumm.”
The small Highlander shook his head in mock sadness. “Dearie me, ’tis a hard an’ sore life we lead, Tam. Ah wonder what supper’s goin’ tae be like, eh?”
After lunch, Tam and Doogy were called to the gatehouse, where the brigadier, Sergeant Wonwill, Abbot Humble, Ferdimond and Armel awaited them. Sister Armel and Skipper met them at the door.
The otter chieftain nodded briefly to Tam. “Wot’s all this about, matey?”
Tam ushered them inside. “Council o’ war, prob’ly.”
Crumshaw waved his swagger stick at the border warrior. “Well-guessed, MacBurl, that’s exactly what it is. We can’t rest inside Redwall, eatin’ these good creatures out o’ house’n’home, with a hundred of the perishin’ foebeast wanderin’ the woodlands outside. Bad form, wot!”
Humble settled both paws into his wide sleeves. “So, Brigadier, what action do you propose?”
Crumshaw looked at the broad linen sling which was holding his wounded shoulder still. “Not a jolly great lot I can do with this blinkin’ thing hamperin’ me. I was hopin’ for some sensible suggestions.”
Ferdimond De Mayne pawed at his long rapier hilt. “I say we march out tomorrow an’ give the blighters a spot of good old Long Patrol blood’n’vinegar, sah!”
The brigadier was watching Tam closely. “An’ what d’ye say, buckoe?”
Tam had his answer ready. “Well, I’d say we’re pretty evenly matched against the vermin, as regards numbers. But if we march out to find ’em an’ fight ’em, that leaves the Abbey unprotected, so we need a proper plan.”
Wonwill tapped Ferdimond’s ear. “I ’ope yore lissenin’, young blood’n’vinegar, there’s experience talkin’ for ye!”
He winked at Tam. “My ’pologies for h’interruptin’, sah. I could tell ye had a plan.”
Tam outlined his suggestions to the group. “First, we’ve got to split the Patrol, half to stay here an’ defend Redwall. They’ll be commanded by the Brigadier. Doogy an’ I will take the others out to fight the vermin.”
Sister Armel looked alarmed at the suggestion. “But Tam, you’ll be outnumbered two to one, and those vermin are vicious brutes!”
Humble chided her mildly. “Don’t be so hasty, Sister, hear him out first. You were saying, Tam?”
The warrior squirrel continued. “I’m not talking about meeting Gulo an’ his mob head-on in a charge. We’ll use hit an’ run tactics, small, swift raids, pickin’ the enemy off a few at a time. Never stoppin’ in one place for long. We’ll be like hornets, stingin’ the great beast, then disappearin’, always drawin’ them further away from the Abbey.”
Crumshaw rapped the table with his stick. “A capital tactic, sah! Duck an’ jolly well weave, hit ’em where it hurts, then vanish like smoke. That’s the ticket, wot wot!”
Tam outlined his strategy further. “Aye, but I’ll need somebeast who knows the territory like the back of his paw to help us. Skipper?”
The burly otter nodded. “That’s me, mate! When d’we leave for this liddle jaunt?”
Tam pondered for a moment before answering. “I think the best time would be late tonight, while the supper is still bein’ held. We’ll slip out by the east wallgate. One thing, though—the hares will have to leave their regimental tunics behind. Father, d’you think ye could lend ’em somethin’ to wear? Stuff that wouldn’t stand out so brightly in the woodlands?”
Humble rose from his armchair. “I’ll have a word with Foremole Bruffy. He knows about that sort of thing.”
The meeting broke up. Crumshaw and Wonwill stayed behind to go through the roster and decide who would go with Tam and who would stay behind at Redwall. Tam and Doogy helped Armel to entice the goshawk for treatment at the Infirmary.
Tergen expressed reluctance to have his injured wing attended to. “Naaaaar! Wing get better by itself, Burl. Not go to ’fermery. Haf knifes up there, cut this bird’s wing off!”
Armel decided the best tactic was ridicule. “Well, dearie me, you great big Dibbun! Haha, Brigadier Crumshaw had a worse wound than yours, and he got treated without a murmur. I’ve never used a knife to cut anybeast. I’m here to heal, not to injure. Right, Doogy?”
The small Highlander agreed. “Aye, right lassie, but if’n yon auld featherbag is too feared tae be made better, what can ye do, eh?”
Tam winced as the hawk’s powerful talons latched on to his paw. Tergen glared icily at Doogy and Armel. “Yeehok! Take this bird to ’fermery, Burl, wot wot!”
The goshawk proved to be a worthy patient. He perched on a bed end, nibbling candied chestnuts which Armel kept in a big jar for her Dibbun patients.
As the Sister worked on the goshawk’s wing, she explained to Tam the significance of the sword she had given him. “Have you seen the picture of Martin the Warrior on the tapestry in Great Hall?”
Tam passed Armel the bowl of verbena water she had requested. “Aye, he looks like a mighty warrior. No wonder, too, with a sword like this.”
The Sister cast a quick glance at the sword, which had seldom left Tam’s side since he had been in charge of it. Then she proceeded with her account to the warrior squirrel. “It is countless seasons since the days of Martin, but his legend, and that of the great sword, lives on. We learned at Abbey school that the hilt of the sword was the one which originally belonged to Luke, Martin’s father. A Badger Lord named Boar the Fighter made the blade in his forge at Salamandastron. It is said that the metal came from a fallen star. There is no steel keener or stronger than that blade. The sword of Martin the Warrior belongs to Redwall Abbey and must always return here, though at special times an outstanding warrior may be chosen to wield it when danger threatens us. Martin appeared to me in a dream, proclaiming that you were the one he had chosen, Tam.”