With the passing of seasons, Araltum’s land became safe and secure, no longer a satisfying place for active warriors. Tam and Doogy, still young and wild, became disenchanted with having to enforce the trivial, and oft times piffling, petty regulations made by Araltum and Idga. The day before the new ceremony brought things to a head. Now they were imprisoned by the same laws that they had upheld. Things would never again be the same between Tam, Doogy and the royal squirrel rulers.
Tam and Doogy whiled away the hours, dozing fitfully. At midnoon Hinjo tapped on the door. Doogy sat up, rubbing both eyes with his tailbrush. “What’s goin’ on oot there? Can ye no’ let a body take a wee rest—away wi’ ye!”
This time the spearbutt rapped the door sharply. Hinjo’s voice was loud and urgent. “Come quick! Idga Drayqueen wants to see ye both. Somethin’s gone badly wrong. I don’t know what ’tis, but yore both to follow me at the double!”
Rising unhurriedly, Tam began wrapping on his woven heather tartan of brown, green and dusty lilac—first around his waist, in a kilt, then across his chest and over one shoulder so that it draped down, cloaklike, upon his back. He winked roguishly at Doogy, who was also dressing.
“Idga wants t’see us, that’s nice. I wonder if she’s saved us some cake an’ wine. Dearie me, we can’t dash up there lookin’ like a pair o’ ragamuffins, Doogy!”
Hinjo unbolted the door and opened it hastily. “Will you two put a move on! Yore needed urgent, now!”
Doogy Plumm was setting a small eagle feather in his cap. He spat on one paw and preened his tail slowly. “Och, the poor wee Queenie, tell her we’ll drop by tae chat wi’ her as soon as we’re lookin’ braw an’ saucy.”
Hinjo pleaded. “Come on, mates, please, or she’ll have my hide. Tam, will ye move yoreself?”
Tam cinched his broad belt tight and set his cap at a jaunty angle. “So then, Doogy my friend, d’ye think we look fit enough to be presented to Her Majesty?”
His companion threw up a smart tail salute. “Aye, like a pair o’ lassies ready tae dance a reel, sir!”
Rakkety Tam bowed gallantly to Doogy. “After you, sir. Quick march, left right, left right, tails up, shoulders back, eyes front!”
They marched out in perfect step, leaping together up into the big old chestnut trunk.
A wide platform of limbs and boughs connected the chestnut with several large trees nearby. This formed the royal court, which at that moment was in a state of chaos. King Araltum was wrapped in a blanket, dishevelled, shivering and wailing. Idga Drayqueen had gone into a swoon, lying flat on her back and gasping for breath. Several of her servants were fanning her with ferns and dabbing her paws with rose water. Squirrels were running hither and thither—some hiding, others gathering up their belongings.
Tam marched straight up to Araltum, questioning him sharply, “What in the name o’ seasons has been goin’ on here?”
Regardless of not being addressed by his title, the king sobbed, “I was attacked, invaded, assaulted! Barbarians, hooligans, monsters! They’ve stolen our Royal Banner!”
The courtiers and servants set up a concerted moan. Doogy roared at them, “Will ye shut that wailin’ up!”
Idga Drayqueen raised a tearstained face, blubbering, “Oh oh, my poor love! What have those murderers done to you? We’ll all be slain in our beds. Wahaaaaah!”
Tam turned on her contemptuously. “Silence, marm, an’ try to behave like a queen. Your husband’s alive an’ well. Where did all this happen, Driltig?”
Nursing a bruised paw, Captain Driltig muttered brokenly, “Down at the west fringe, near the clifftops.”
Tam nodded to Doogy. “Get down there fast, mate. See what’s gone on, then report back t’me!”
Doogy took off like an arrow, zinging through the foliage. Turning his attention to the trembling king, Tam tried to make sense of all that was going on. “Tell me what you can. What did you see?”
Araltum blurted out squeakily, “There were hundreds of them . . . white vermin. They surrounded us. Then that thing, that Gulo, attacked without warning. I was almost killed! D’you hear me, almost killed!”
Araltum collapsed, weeping hysterically. Tam gave an irate snort. Grabbing hold of Driltig, he hauled him upright. “Make your report, Captain. Come on, smarten up!”
Driltig could not meet his interrogator’s gaze. He rubbed his bruised paw, babbling like a beast in a trance. “It was a nightmare! One moment we were marching out of the trees and onto the western fringe. Me an’ Chamog were carryin’ the flag, the others were singin’ an’ playin’ flutes. . . . Suddenly they ambushed us, out of nowhere—a great mob of wild vermin, white foxes an’ ermine stoats. The leader was called Gulo, they were yelling his name. ‘Gulo! Gulo!’ They hit us like lightnin’—rippin’, slayin’ an’ slashin’. We never stood a chance. I dropped the flag. Then me an’ Pinetooth over there, we seized the King an’ rushed him up into the trees. That’s when I hurt my paw. We went like the wind, our creatures screamin’ an’ dyin’ back there. We could hear those vermin roarin’ an’ laughin’ like madbeasts. I’ll never forget it as long as I live, never!”
Driltig slumped down, weeping. The older squirrel, Pinetooth, was an experienced campaigner. He sat silent, ignoring a bleeding wound to his shoulder. Tam looked to him.
Pinetooth shook his head. “I can’t tell ye anymore’n he did, Tam. It all happened too fast!”
Tam nodded. “Ye’d best get that wound seen to, mate.”
Pinetooth glanced at his injury as if just noticing it. “One of the vermin slashed at me with a blade shaped like a sickle. I was lucky, though, I escaped. That Gulo beast got Cap’n Chamog first. Pore beast, he screamed like a babe!”
Idga Drayqueen had sufficiently recovered to complain at Tam. “My poor Araltum, almost killed! And where were you while all this murder was taking place, eh?”
Rakkety Tam lost his temper and bellowed at her, “Locked in the guardhouse because I wouldn’t play your stupid little games, marm. Don’t ye remember? Where’s me’n Doogy’s weapons o’ war—you had them confiscated.”
Pinetooth went to a concealed place amid the branches. He dragged forth a big sack with its neck tied shut. Tearing it open with his teeth, he upended it. Tam grabbed the belongings that had been taken from him—his trusty weapon, a claymore, with a hefty double-edged blade and a basket hilt; his dirk, the long dagger used by Northerners for close fighting; and his Sgian Dhu, a small, keen skinning knife with a black handle and an amber cairnstone set on top. Tam thrust the claymore into the side of his belt, the dirk at the back, beneath his cloak, and the Sgian Dhu behind a hackle of feathers set into his cap. Last, he picked up his buckler, a small, round fighting shield, slinging it behind his left shoulder.
“Now I feel properly dressed. I’ll hold Doogy’s gear here until he gets back.”
It was some time before Tam’s partner returned. Buckling on his three blades and picking up his shield, Doogy spoke quietly to Tam. “Ah tell ye, mate, it was a massacre!”
Tam showed no emotion. “Were there no wounded on either side? Did ye not catch sight o’ the vermin?”
Doogy shook his head. “Nary a sign of ’em, but they left tracks aplenty. There was no’ one of our fighters alive.”
Tam pointed at Idga and Araltum. “Doogy, you an’ the rest bring these two along. ’Twill do them good to see the results of their playactin’. ’Tis safe enough to return there now. I’ll go ahead an’ look at the vermin tracks whilst they’re still fresh.”
As Tam swung off through the trees, Araltum protested, “He can’t talk to me like that, I’m a king!”
Doogy dragged Araltum up, whipping the blanket off him. “Yore nought but a blitherin’ auld bloater. Get movin’!”
Idga Drayqueen called out indignantly, “You common little beast! I’ll have you thrown back in the guardhouse for your impudence. Guards, seize him!”