At the opening of the new ceremony, the royal banner, which was now fixed to a long flagstaff made from yew wood, was presented to Araltum by Idga. Amid cheers and jubilant chants from the rank-and-file squirrels, Idga performed an elaborate curtsy and fell flat on her considerable rear end. A playful gust of wind caught the banner, causing Araltum to stagger about and to nearly be swept off his paws. Driltig and Chamog, two of his captains, saved the king from injury by taking charge of the billowing flag. As Idga was helped up by her servants, Araltum launched squeakily into his speech.
“Ahem! Er, let all who see this, our Royal Standard, bow their heads and wave their tails in respect. Yes, wherever our banner flies, it will inspire joy in the hearts of all. . . .”
Dutiful cheers echoed forth from the onlookers as the king continued. “And strike terror into the hearts of foebeasts, who are, er, rash enough to trespass upon these, my territories!”
More orchestrated calls of approval rang out among the crowd before Araltum concluded his speech. “This flag shall fly a hundred, nay, a thousand seasons, as a symbol of my power! Let allbeasts know of the beauty and wisdom of Idga Drayqueen and her King, the fearless, the mighty, the magnificent. . . .”
Here he raised his paws as his subjects shouted en masse, “Long live Idga Drayqueen and Squirrelking Araltum!”
The procession wound off through the trees—Araltum swaggering in the lead, Chamog and Driltig slightly behind, bearing the new royal standard, and six other various captains and officials following. In their wake marched a score of singers and musicians, trilling the praises of their rulers in a song jointly composed by the royal couple.
“O mighty and magnificent,
upholders of our laws.
Thy loyal subjects call to thee,
protect us with thy paws.
O Araltum and thy Drayqueen,
so fair of fur and tail,
we bow to thee in honour,
and joyfully cry Hail!”
A huge, ancient chestnut tree, which held the court within its spreading limbs, had a small barred door set in the base of its trunk. This was the cell which held dissidents and malefactors.
Doogy Plumm peered through the tiny barred aperture and laughed. Then, in his strong Northern Highland accent, he shouted out, “Ho ho ho! Will ye listen tae the dunderheads, all chantin’ an’ singin’ tae that wee lard barrel!”
Doogy, a short, thick-bodied squirrel, was no lightweight himself. He turned to his fellow prisoner—a tall, powerful, sinewy-built beast. “Och, Tam, mah beauty, don’t ye wish we were oot there, havin’ sich a braw time, caterwaulin’ the auld eejits’ praises? Will ye be grieved tae miss the braw feast for their majesties?”
Rakkety Tam MacBurl unfolded himself from a small bunk and stretched lazily. “Nay, Doogy, I’d sooner miss a dozen feasts than have to bow’n’scrape around that little toad, singin’ foolish ditties that him an’ Idga penned between them!”
Tam’s accent was not as broad as Doogy’s; he was a Borderer and not from the Highlands. Doogy scrambled down from the stool he had been perched on and threw himself on the bunk. “Ah Tam, Tam. Why did we ever roam south tae pledge our blades tae sich a pair o’ fools?”
Tam laughed drily. “Because it seemed a good idea at the time, wee Doogy Plumm. Ye have to take the bad with the good.”
Doogy scratched his tail. “Aye, an’ there hasnae been much o’ the good lately.”
Tam rattled the cell door to attract the attention of the guard who was posted outside. “Hi, Hinjo! When are they goin’ to let us out o’ here? We’re famished for the want of food!”
Hinjo had served with both Tam and Doogy and was friendly toward them. He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, Tam, I’ve got my orders. Both of ye have got to stay there until the ceremony and the feast are finished. Then I’m to march ye up to the court, where the royal pair will decide what punishment fits yore crimes, mate.”
Rakkety Tam’s face was the picture of roguish innocence. “Who, me? What crime am I supposed to have committed?”
The guard shook his head, chuckling. “Yore an insubordinate rascal, Cap’n MacBurl. What did ye think Araltum was goin’ t’do after ye called him a waddlin’ ole windbag an’ refused to carry the royal flag in his new ceremony? Tam, yore the best warrior the King’s ever had, but ye can’t insult him like that an’ get off free.”
Doogy scrambled back up onto the stool, next to Tam. “Ah never said ought aboot the blitherin’ oaf!”
Hinjo guffawed loudly. “Of course ye didn’t, Doogy, but ye did call Idga Drayqueen a fussy-bustled ole branch-burster! I think that might’ve had somethin’ to do with ye bein’ in there, eh?”
Doogy Plumm wrinkled his nose. “Ach, but we was only sayin’ what everybeast was thinkin’.”
Hinjo leaned on his spear as he explained to Doogy, “Aye, but no matter what everybeast is thinkin’, they keep it to theirselves. You two are the first to say it out loud. Why don’t ye go an’ take another nap? When all the celebrations are done with, you’ll be sent for. Take my word for it, mates, I’ve got my orders.”
Further argument was useless. Tam and Doogy lay heads to paws on the little bunk and tried to slumber, each with his own thoughts. Both beasts had left the Northlands to come south in the winter of the famine. Starvation, or death by bands of predatory vermin, killed off many squirrels that winter. Neither Tam nor Doogy had any close family, but both were young warriors with a sense of adventure. They had met up on the road whilst trekking south to the warmer climes. Straightaway they had taken to each other and had become the closest of comrades. Together the two squirrels had lived through a series of perils and scrapes but had come through it all, still side by side.
Tam and Doogy had been spotted by Araltum’s scouts as soon as they had walked into his territory. The Squirrelking immediately knew that these two young warriors were the best he had ever seen. Initially, Tam and Doogy had been flattered by the cordial welcome and the attention lavished upon them by the royal couple. In Araltum’s kingdom were rich and fertile copses and glades, food grown in abundance everywhere and balmy coastline climate for most seasons—a whole different world compared to the hard life of the Northlands from whence Tam and Doogy had come. Soon the two companions had pledged their word and swords in the Squirrelking’s service. Both had risen swiftly in the ranks—Tam being made Royal Champion, with the faithful Doogy always at his friend’s side. Having fiercely repulsed any foebeasts who attacked, soon there were few large vermin raids of any kind. After a while, the names Rakkety Tam MacBurl and Wild Doogy Plumm had become bywords for courage and fearlessness.