The crow strutted forward imperiously. "I am Mangiz *he Seer, General Ironbeak's strong right wing. Bow your head and show proper respect when you speak to me, stripedog."

Constance promptly batted Mangiz beak over tail-feathers in one mighty sweep of her powerful forepaw, then with a roar she charged in among the rooks.

Ironbeak and his fighters retaliated instantly. They were on Constance, pecking, scratching and tearing.

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Winifred and Ambrose ran to her rescue. Belaboring furiously, they whacked away at anything feathered with their stout staves.

The fight did not last long. Ironbeak and his fighters were driven back by the fast onslaught of the Redwallers. They retreated to a boxroom, slamming the door and locking it from the inside.

Constance shook blood from her muzzle as she banged on the door. "You in there, Ironbeak or whatever you call yourself, get out of this Abbey and take your birds with you. We do not allow trespa.s.sers at Redwall."

The reply was instant and bold. "YuggaW I am General Ironbeak, greatest fighter in all the northlands. This is my redstone house, and I will slay you all if you do not leave."

The Abbot came hurrying up, accompanied by Brother Dan and Sister Agnes. He motioned Constance to be silent. Though the badger was obviously fuming with temper she bowed to the Abbofs wish.

The old mouse rapped lightly on the door. "h.e.l.lo in there. I am Mordalfus, Abbot of Redwall. I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding. We mean you no harm, we are a friendly order of creatures. If you wish to stay the night then you may. We have food and treatment for any creature who is sick or injured. h.e.l.lo, can you hear me?"

This time it was Mangiz the crow who replied. "General Ironbeak's word is the law. This place is his now. We are in your roof s.p.a.ces, and there are many of us, all seasoned warriors from the north. There were some sparrows when we arrived, but they have all been slain. You too will be slain if you do not leave the redstone house."

The Abbot shook his head sadly as Constance pulled him gently away. Foremole struck the door with his staff. "Yurr, burdbags, Redwall be ours. Better wurriers than you'm 'as rroid to take it offen us an' failed mizzuble, so they 'ave."

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There was no sound from the other side of the door.

Winifred shouldered her stave. "Sounds as if they've gone. We'd best get back to Cavern Hole and decide what we are going to do."

There was a loud hubbub and clamor in Cavern Hole, and sleep was forgotten. Sister May was the heroine of the hour after Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse told how she attacked the big bird single-pawed to rescue Rollo.

Sister May was a simple and modest mouse. "Well, mercy me, I may be only the infirmary Sister, but I couldn't let that great bully harm our Rollo," she told them. "Poor little mite, he was frightened clear out of his wits, and so was I. Do you know, I'm still not sure it was me who attacked that bird."

There was general laughter and a rousing cheer for Sister May.

Foremole and Constance were whispering together in a corner when the Abbot banged a wooden bowl upon the tabletop.

"Quiet. Quiet, please! Well, eight seasons of peace since the Great War and now one summer strewn with trouble. First the fox and his band, now this!"

* Several voices called out.

"If only Matthias were here!"

"Yes, he'd know what to do!"

r "Matthias, Basil and Jess would soon sort those birds out!"

mump!

- Constance's heavy paw shook the table. "Silence, listen to your Abbot!" she ordered.

Foremole raised a paw. "'scuse oi, me an moi moles got wurk f do. May us be 'scused, zurr?" i The Abbot looked over the top of his spectacles. "Certainly, Foremole. Now, the rest of you listen to me. , Wherever Matthias is now, or Jess Squirrel, or Basil, I'm IBM they would wish us to get on with this problem and help ourselves."

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There was a murmur of agreement.

Abbot Mordalfus continued his address; "Thank you. I must say a word regarding Sister May. What she did tonight was very brave-"

"Aye 'twas that/' Ambrose Spike piped up. "Maybe she's after our Warrior's job instead of mindin' that old infirmary."

Sister May blushed to her whiskertips. "Oh, what a naughty thing to say, Mr. Spike!"

When order was restored, the Abbot continued: "Perhaps Ambrose is right, maybe we do need a Warrior in a situation like this. Can anyone suggest a suitable candidate?"

The call was unanimous: "Constance, Constance!"

The badger stood up. "First, I suggest you afl bed down here for the night. It doesn't look too sate up in the dormitories at the moment. If you must leave Cavern Hole, let Winifred or Ambrose know. Do not wander about alone, especially out in the open. I will sleep on the steps between here and Great Hall tonight. Tomorrow we'll decide what to do about the raven and his crew."

There was a great bustle of activity. Some of the infants thought it great fun to be sleeping in Cavern Hole and they made blanket tents from the edge of the table to the floor.

Constance sat on the steps with the Abbot and Ambrose.

"What do you make of all this, Constance?"

"I'm at a bit of a loss to say. Abbot. They must have been watching the Abbey, because they wouldn't have found it so easy to occupy the roofs.p.a.ces with Queen Warbeak and all her warriors at home."

"Aye, now if s up to us to make 'em see the error of their ways and send 'em packin', gurt cheeky birds."

In the roofs.p.a.ce, General Ironbeak held a conference with Mangiz.

"Krah! The big stripedog is dangerous, Ironbeak."

"The hedgepig and the waterhound too. We underestimated these earthcrawlers, Mangiz. They will have to be taught a lesson."

"Aye, tomorrow will be their dying day/' vowed the crow. "Oh, you are bleeding, my General."

Ironbeak was glad he had been alone when Sister May attacked him. It would not do for his fighters to see their leader vanquished by a small female mouse. He shook Wood from his talon.

"Yaah! It is nothing, a scratch. As you say, my Mangiz, tomorrow will be the dying day of these earthcrawlers. Post sentries at the eaves, and watch for Quickbill and his brothers bringing in supplies."

Dawn was long past at the foot of the high cliffs. Matthias and the searchers had reached the cliffs after dark, and ever since daybreak they ranged far and wide. Everywhere they were faced with sheer inward curving expanses; nowhere was there a way up to the plateau. It was just before mid morn ing when Matthias sat on a small mound with Basil and Cheek. The old hare shook his ears mournfully.

"Bollywoggled. Thafs what we are, old lad, flum-micated! Blow me, there's no way to the top of that cliff unless we sprout wings."

"We need a big ladder. Thaf d be better than wings," Cheek sn.i.g.g.e.red impudently and ducked Basil's paw.

Jabez Stump marched up with a huge brown owl waddling behind him. "Matthias, meet Sir 'Arry the Muse."

The owl bowed gravely and blinked his enormous eyes.

Matthias bowed courteously in return. "Good morning, Sir Harry. I am called Matthias, Warrior of Redwall, this young otter is Cheek, by name and nature. Last but Hot least, allow me to present Basil Stag Hare, retired scout and foot fighter."

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Basil made an elegant leg. "Ah y'service, sah. But why are you called the Muse?" The owl struck an artistic stance.

"Why, pray, do you suppose?

I'm master of poetry and prose, No equal have I in field or wood/ No creature a smidgeon, a fraction as good.

And if you need a poet, why, here's one to choose.

This Owl. ... Sir Harry the Muse."

"Oh bravo! Bravo sir, well said!" Basil applauded him loudly.

Matthias leaned on his sword. "Well said indeed. Unfortunately, we are not looking for a poet at die moment. Sir Harry."

The owl blinked in a dignified manner.

"Then tell me what you need.

Someone to perform a deed?

A mummer perhaps, or a singer of songs?

A champion, a lighter of wrongs?

A companion, maybe, to stand at your side?

For my talents are varied and wide."

"We're looking for some creature who's too modest for words, haha." Cheek antic.i.p.ated Basil's paw this time, and dodged to one side.

Matthias nodded towards the difftop. "We need someone who can get us up there."

Sir Harry preened his feathers, averting his eyes from Matthias. "Cake, have you any cake?"

"You didn't talk in rhyme then. >Vhy?" Matthias smiled, "Because this is business. Verse is for conversation and pleasantry. Business is business, straight speaking."

Matthias spread his paws, opening his eyes wide in imitation of the owl.

"Business for goodness sake, Perhaps we can find some cake. Maybe, my friend, we will bring to you A shrewcake baked by a shrew."

At first Sir Harry looked undecided, then he stamped his talons and clacked his hooked beak in approval.

"Not bad, not bad at all. At least it made me smile. For a Warrior, I'd say quite good, You have a certain style."

Matthias sheathed his sword. "Wait here, sir. I'll be back in a short while, then we can talk business."

The warrior mouse set off in search of Log-a-Log and his shrews.

Basil cleared his throat noisily and faced Sir Harry.

"I beg you listen to me.

I'm a fellow spirit, you see.

I was once considered a champion poet.

I just thought you'd like to know it. . . ."

Cheek t.i.ttered and avoided Basil's paw in the same instant. Sir Harry turned his back and delivered a cutting line: "I beg, I implore you, sir, Stick to being a hare!"

Basil twiddled his ears huffily. "Hmph! Some chaps wouldn't know a rhyme if you chopped it up and served it with custard in a bowl. Stick to being a hare, huh!"

Matthias reappeared with Log-a-Log. The shrew leader Was carrying a flat white cake, its sides oozed honey, and dark specks at its middle were definitely some kind of dried fruit baked into it. He presented it to Sir Harry. . The owl looked it over dubiously. He pecked at the 220.

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cake, made small noises of approval, then gobbled it up greedily. Crumbs of shrewcake still dung to his beak as he nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent! Didn't look like much, but it tasted wonderful. How many more of these have you got?"

Matthias shrugged. "As many as it takes. The Guosim are good cooks. All they need is a small fire, a thin slab of rock and their own ingredients. But first I want to know more about that plateau. Is there a way up?"

"Of course there is," Sir Harry snorted, spraying crumbs over Cheek. "Nothing moves around here that I don't know about. I watched the fox and his band taking a slave line up there yesterday. There are rope ladders on the top. They pulled them up so you couldn't follow. How many shrewcakes in a batch?"

"Eighteen," Log-a-Log told him.

"That many? Good! I'll fly up and drop the ladders down, but don't ask me to do any more. I stay well clear of the toplands normally. If s a strange world, too much death."

Sir Harry did a short ungainly run and took off into graceful flight. He cirded and wheeled, then flew up to theclifftop.

Log-a-Log called the shrews together, issuing orders to the two on cooking duty. Basil and Matthias marshalled the rest into lines ready for the ascent.

Jess Squirrel watched the top anxiously. "Look out, stand back, here come the rope ladders," she reported.

b.u.mping and unfurling their way down the cliff face, the twin ladders unravelled, stopping just short of the place where Cheek stood.

Jess sprang on to one, scuttling up with all the agility of a champion climber, calling out as she went. "Wait there. I'll go to the top and make sure all is secure."

Sir Harry came winging down. He stood counting the shrewcakes as the cooks laid them on the gra.s.s to cool. Satisfied the total was correct, he turned to Matthias.

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