Armel climbed up on the sill and sat by the otter. “I hope you’re right, sir!”
She looked down to the walltop where she could see Tam. He was sitting with his back to them, readying his weapons. Armel listened to the rasp of steel on stone as the warrior honed his blades. When he had finished, Tam took a soft cloth and dipped it in a paste of wood ash dampened with a sprinkle of water.
“What’s he doing now?”
Captain Fortindom, who had just come into the dormitory, came to the window to see what Tam was doing. “Burnishing his blades, Sister, givin’ ’em a jolly good old polish, wot! Don’t matter whether a chap’s a cook, farmer or warrior, marm. Every trade has its tools, y’know, an’ if one’s blinkin’ good at his business, he cares for his implements. I say, just look at MacBurl workin’ on that shield of his. He’s got the flippin’ thing glitterin’!”
Armel and Fortindom blinked at the glint of sunlight which flashed through the window as Tam moved the shield. The captain nodded in admiration. “Well done that chap, wot. That’s the stuff! Nothin’ like a smartly presented warrior marchin’ off t’meet the rascally foe. Appearances count, doncha know!”
Armel watched Tam labouring away under the bright sun. “I suppose they do. I’ve never thought about it, really.”
Fortindom warmed to the subject. “Oh yes, Sister. When I was a young recruit at Salamandastron, we had a Drill Sergeant, real stickler he was. Had all the new buckoes polishin’ night’n’day. Haha, I had a messmate, name o’ young Fluffscuttle, as I recall. Well, it seems one day his sword was a mite dusty on parade. By the left! That Sergeant gave him a right old dressin’ down, had the poor bloke quiverin’ in his fur. The Sarge roared at him, ‘Yew ’orrible liddle fiddle-pawed, boot-nosed, flop-eared h’excuse for a recruit. H’is that dust h’I sees on yore blade? Sit right down there, laddie buck, an’ clean it off. Polish it until the rag wears out! Polish it until y’can see me face in the blade, or I’ll ’ave yore tail fer tiffin, yore tripes fer tea an’ yore ears fer afters!’ ”
Armel smiled. “Oh, poor young Fluffscuttle! What happened?”
Fortindom carried on with his anecdote. “Happened? I’ll tell ye what happened, me beauty. Off marches the Sergeant, leavin’ Fluffscuttle sittin’ in the middle of the blinkin’ parade ground, polishin’ away like the clappers at his sword. Of course the Sarge forgets all about the incident, doesn’t he! Hah, comes midnight an’ the Brigadier’s comin’ out o’ the mess on his way back to quarters. The old boy’s crossin’ the parade ground when he sees young Fluffscuttle, still sittin’ there polishin’ away like fury at his flippin’ sword. I tell ye, miss, that sword was shinin’ like the bloomin’ sun on a summer morn. The Brigadier stops to admire it, sayin’, ‘I tell you, young ’un, that’s the shiniest sword I’ve ever seen. Top marks, Fluffscuttle! Come on now, off t’your bed, it’s after midnight.’ But Fluffscuttle just keeps polishin’ the confounded sword, an’ says to the Brig, ‘Afraid I can’t, sah. The Sergeant said I’ve got to polish this sword until I can see his face in it. But I’ve polished an’ polished, sah, an’ I still can’t see the blinkin’ Sergeant’s face in it!’ Wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, that young Fluffscuttle! Wot?”
The Abbot, Foremole and Armel were laughing when Skipper glanced up at the sky, announcing, “Nearly high noontime, mates. Come on, Cap’n, we’d best be on our way. Tam’s waitin’ on us down there.”
39
Duge saw the Abbey gates opening. Six creatures emerged, three hares, an otter and a hawk, walking side by side, with a squirrel two paces in front of them. Upon her hurried return, the ermine found Gulo and the other five vermin sitting around, their backs toward Doogy and their once well-lit torches now just butts stuck down into the earth. The wolverine was chewing on the raw carcase of a nightjar which the old fox had felled earlier with his sling. Crunching on a bone, Gulo stared up at Duge through hooded lids.
“Do they bring the Walking Stone with them?”
The ermine nodded. “Sire, the riverdog carries it in a basket around his shoulder. They are all well armed, save for the bird.”
Gulo rose in a leisurely fashion, wiping a few downy feathers from his lips. He swelled his powerful chest and flexed his mighty limbs confidently. “Come, my slayers! Let us taste the flesh of these fools!”
Doogy Plumm had been gagged three times, but still he had managed to rip and shred each binding.
Not a beast to be silenced, the stout Highlander laughed mockingly. “Hahaarr, ye scum-faced braggarts, all ye’ll taste this day is goin’ t’be the soil ye tread on!”
Gulo ignored him, but a white fox climbed up on the wood kindling surrounding the squirrel and struck him a blow to the face. “Silence, treemouse! Nobeast defeats Gulo the Savage. He could slay twice their number with ease!”
Doogy quickly retorted, “Hoho, could he now, the sauncy great thing! Well, let me tell ye, mah bonnie wee vermin, yer Chief has yet tae meet Rakkety Tam MacBurl!”
Then he bellowed forth, “Hawaaaay the Braw, Taaaaam!”
Tam answered the cry as he leaped the ditch ahead of his friends. “Haway the Braaaw, Doogy Plumm! MacBurl for aye!”
Both shouts set off a thunderous roar from the creatures gathered on the high rampart walls. “Redwaaaaaaallllll! Eulaliiiiaaaaaa!”
At a signal from Gulo, Duge began rolling the drum forward, striking it with the basket hilt of Doogy’s claymore as she raised the vermin into a chant. “Gulo! Gulo! Gulo! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
Both sides marched forward to within six paces of each other, then halted. Gulo and Tam advanced two more paces. They stood facing, eye to eye. Skipper placed the basket containing Rockbottom upon the ground. Then he stood over it, hefting a long javelin. One of the foxes eyed the basket, his paw straying to his curved sword hilt. A swift rasp of steel was all it took, and Derron Fortindom’s long blade was out and pointing at the fox.
“Come anywhere near that basket before this contest is finished, sirrah, an”tis death to ye. Take my word! We’re here to see fair play. This is a one-on-one fight, Tam against Gulo. All others stay out of it. Clear?”
Gulo and Tam began circling warily, each riveted on the other, their eyes unblinking. With his huge, menacing appearance, the wolverine had created immediate fear in all the beasts he had ever faced. He towered over the squirrel warrior, baring his teeth, flexing his claws and breathing heavily. Showing neither fear nor hesitation, and holding the sword of Martin loosely at his side, Tam looked up at his enemy.
Gulo gave a blood-curdling growl, setting up a small cloud of dust as he stamped his footpaws down heavily. He leered at his smaller opponent wolfishly. “Little warrior, ye are bold to face Gulo. Thy body will add strength to mine. Thy heart belongs to me!”
Normally, this would have set anybeast in a tremble, but Tam’s reply was completely unexpected. “I could not give my heart to one as ugly as ye. ’Tis promised to a fair pretty maid!”
With eye-blurring speed, Tam swung his sword, which produced a pinging sound as it nicked a claw from the wolverine’s paw. Gulo let out an unearthly shriek and charged him. The Borderer’s shield shook as his enemy’s mighty paw struck it. Tam dodged nimbly to one side, avoiding the force of the blow. He swung a counterslash with his blade, but it only shored off a thick bunch of hair. As Tam brought his shield back up into position, Gulo dived headlong. His massive head caught the shield’s centre boss, bowling the squirrel backward, head over tail, and sending him skidding over the grass.
The watchers scattered in all directions as Gulo howled triumphantly and went after his quarry like a thundering juggernaut. Tam recovered quickly. Half kneeling, he held up his shield against an onslaught of blows from both of the wolverine’s ponderous paws. Instinctively, he slashed out with his sword and was rewarded by a sharp grunt of pain as it pierced the huge beast’s footpaw. Scrambling upright, Tam held the battered shield at shoulder height, sweeping beneath it furiously with the keen blade of Martin’s sword as he retreated toward the Abbey.