The raven General sprang forward, followed by his rooks. Unwittingly they exposed their backs to the stairs, A hail of arrows and slingstones from the barricade behind them caught the birds unawares. Ironbeak dodged out of the line of fire, his eye smarting from a pebblestone.

"After them! This way, you wormheads, away from the stairs!"

They were halfway across Great Hall when the main door slammed and the tapestry rescue party were gone.

The fuming Ironbeak laid about with his hard yellow beak.

"Useless, stupid blunderers! Worthless, dumping idiots! Where are those chicken-hearted magpies? Quickbill, take those blockhead brothers of yours outside and see where the earthcrawlers have got to."

The Abbot smiled with pleasure and relief as the long roll of tapestry was fed out of the hole by the moles. . "You acted courageously, my friends. Martin is certainly back among us."

Cornflower turned to Foremole. "Is there a tunnel through to my gatehouse cottage?"

Foremole tugged his snout. "Aye, missus. Oi dug it meself."

"Splendid. Sister May, would you come with me tonight? We may as well make use of the tunnels. I have an idea. It may not defeat Ironbeak, but it will certainly give him and those birds something to think about."

Baby Rollo rolled himself in the tapestry and giggled as Gaffer mole tickled him. John Churchmouse looked 'severely over the top of his gla.s.ses.

"Come out of there this instant, Rollo. What would Martin think?"

Mrs. Churchmouse chuckled. "He'd probably think it quite nice to have some company after hanging alone on the wall all that time."

General Ironbeak was in a fine fit of rage as he stalked up and down the sickbay and the infirmary. Mangiz and the three magpie brothers stood stock-still, waiting for his wrath to unleash itself upon them. They had failed to find any trace of the exits and entrances to the cunningly dug mole tunnels.

"Kacha! You slugbrained dolts, do you mean to tell me that you could not find a few creatures carrying the big cloth?"

Quickbill looked down at his claws. "We searched, we looked everywhere, Ironbeak. There was not a sign of any creature."

"Not a sign? You speak foolishness. They are earth-crawlers, not birds. They could not fly off into the blue. Where did they go?"

"The big stripedog charged us. General. We could not fight it. By the time you sent us outside, we could not find any trace of them. We did not expect them to come through the doorway like that. You were supposed to have them penned up in that place by the stairs."

Ironbeak moved like lightning. He pulled Quickbill up against the wall and felled him with a sharp blow from his heavy beak.

"Yaggah! Don't tell me what I was supposed to be doing. You forget yourself, magpie. I am the leader. Mangiz, do your visions see anything? Does your mind's eye tell you where the earthcrawlers went?"

The crow shifted nervously. "My visions are still clouded, Lord."

307.

The raven eyed him scornfully. "Yaeh! Not the mouse warrior again?"

"Ironbeak, I see what I see. The mouse wearing armour blocks my visions and hovers in my thoughts. I cannot explain it."

"Ha&tt! Is this the Mangiz who served me in the northlands? I think this redstone house is making you like an old thrush. The mouse is only a picture upon a piece of cloth. We have seen this, we know it is true. I have not seen a mouse in armour striding around here, nor have you, yet you stand there dithering and flapping. 'Lord, my visions are clouded. A mouse wearing armour hovers in my thoughts.' Kachal Get out of my sight. I will do my own thinking. You have foiled me, Mangiz."

As Mangiz turned to go, there was a scratching and chirping in the doorway. Ironbeak leapt forward.

"Sparrows! Get them!"

The five sparrows who had been listening at the door flew off. Ironbeak and Mangiz were in hot pursuit of them as they rounded the stairwell and flew down towards Great Hall.

"Sparrows! Get them!" Mangiz echoed his leader's cry to the patrols in the galleries.

The sparrows fluttered and veered, not certain of where to go next. One of them was taken by the beaks and claws of three rooks. It stood no chance.

"Sparra, Sparra, down here!" the voice of Constance boomed up from Cavern Hole.

Like four arrows straight and true, the Sparra warriors shot down the stairs and over the top of the barricade, to land safely among their Redwall friends. A lively volley of slingstones discouraged any pursuit by Ironbeak's fighters.

All the Abbey creatures gathered in Cavern Hole to hear the report of the four survivors who were all that was left 308.

of Queen Warbeak's brave little army. They told of the long days searching fruitlessly down false trails through 'the thicknesses of Mossflower country in the far south, of hawk attacks and uneasy nights spent in strange trees, of all their adventures, right to the time they found Matthias and his friends in dire peril. There followed a harrowing tale of the hard-won battle, culminating in the death of Queen Warbeak and nearly all her command. Many Redwallers wept unashamedly, for Warbeak and her warriors were great friends and true Redwallers.

There was heartfelt relief and the sadness gave way to cheers at the news that Matthias, Basil and Jess, together with old shrew comrades and some new companions, were alive and well, still hot on the trail of the evil one and his band who had kidnapped the young ones from the Abbey.

The Abbot ordered food to be brought for the weary sparrows, who had flown night and day to be back at Redwall, then he informed them of developments since they had left: the arrival of General Ironbeak and the slaying of the old Sparra folk and the nestlings by the ruthless invaders.

One of the sparrows related what they had heard outside the infirmary door.

Cornflower dapped her paws together. "I knew it. I was right! Martin the Warrior is watching over us. Oh, I'm so glad I thought up a little plan earlier on. This makes it so much better, knowing that those villainous birds are uneasy about the warrior's spirit protecting our Abbey. Now I think my scheme will really work!"

"I think you should tell us what this plan is before you decide to go off doing things by yourself, young mouse," the Abbot said firmly.

Cornflower explained.

Mangiz perched in the galleries with Ironbeak. Both birds were watching the floor of Great Hall below.

"General, do you think those sparrows heard us talking?" Mangiz wondered.

309.

Who cares about a few sparrows? You see, Mangiz, you are worrying about stupid things. It is as I said, you are becoming wary of your own wingshadow now. Leave me alone, since it is I who now has to do all the thinking. You must not bother me with talk of sparrows and armoured mice."

"So be it, Lord."

Mangiz flapped off to the dormitories in a sulk.

Ambrose Spike and Brother Dan selected a long barrel stave and set about carving it with their woodworking tools. As he worked, the hedgehog muttered, "A sword, like the great sword of Martin that Matthias carries. Wish I had it here as a model. Still, I can remember fairly well what it looks like."

"I can recall the exact details of our Warrior's sword, fortunately," Brother Dan sniffed.

Ambrose sniffed back at him. "See that barrel of October ale yonder? I've got to remember to tap it before autumn. See those barrels of cider, I've got to remember to add honey to them in a day or so, or they'll go bitter. Now that big barrel of strawberry cordial, well, I've got to remember to strain it off into jugs for the evenin' meal tonight so that if 11 be cold and clear. So you carry on recallin' what you like about the Warrior's sword, Dan. I've got enough to remejpber, thank you."

Evening was falling with a glorious red sunset as Cornflower and Sister May, accompanied by several moles, slipped from the tunnel exit into the gatehouse cottage. Barring the door, Foremole checked at the windows to make sure they had not been seen. "Nary a sign o' burdbags, missus. We'm be safe enuff." Cornflower went into the bedroom and opened the chest where Matthias kept his warrior's garb.

"See, if s all here. Sister May, the armour and everything. All my Matthias took was his sword. He likes to travel light."

310.

Sister May helped Cornflower to unpack the helmet and greaves. Laying the burnished breastplate upon the bed, she eyed it doubtfully.

"Dearie me, if s all very heavy. Are you sure you'll manage to walk with it on?"

Cornflower shrugged, "I won't know until I try, but I'm fairly strong. Give me a paw with this shoulderplate, will you."

Shortly afterwards, she clanked out into the living room, fully armoured.

Foremole shook his head admiringly. "Burr, you'm lookenasoighta'right, missus. Oi never see'd ought loik that. Strewth, but for your face oi'd say 'twas Marthen a-c.u.mmed back agin."

Sister May emerged, carrying a piece of filmy gauze. "Not to worry, Mr. Foremole. I'll make a face mask, and in the dark she'll seem quite pale and ghostly. I must say, Cornflower, all that bulky armour makes you look quite large and impressive."

Cornflower clanked about, gazing down at the gleaming metal.

"Lef s hope it fools the birds tonight."

311.

Basil dodged about in the rays of the setting sun.

"I say, look you chaps, this must have been a herb garden. Aha, mint. Yumyum, I'm rather partial to a bit of fresh mint. Achoo! Bless me, there's thyme around here somewhere. It always makes me sneeze. Achoo! Ah, here 'tis, hmm, very tasty too. Achoo!"

The trackers were camped in the old cultivated garden land, shrew fires burned red against the twilight, and a delicious aroma permeated the air. Cheek took a taste from the end of a ladle. "Gaw, marvellous. What is it?"

Log-a-Log chopped wild chicory with his sword and threw it in the pot. "Thaf s special. There's so much still growing round here that we have a wide choice. I'm calling it hunters' hotpot. There's only water to drink, but I'm making apple fritters in honey to follow."

Jess Squirrel looked over towards the twin black silhouettes of the badger and bell rocks in the distance.

"What an amazing sight, Matthias. You'd think for all the world that those shapes were real."

Matthias was busy with Jabez Stump and Sir Harry. They were studying the map and poem again.

"Well, thaf s the badger and the bell, but this next part sounds pretty desperate: 'Face the Lord who points the way After noon on summer's day.

Death will open up its grave.

Who goes there. . .? None but the brave,'"

They sat in silence around the fire, weighing the ominous words.

Sir Harry waddled across to sniff the aromas of the cooking pot, and returned heartened.

"Dread words do not alarm me When food is on its way. No parchment threat can harm me. Lead on, lead on, I say."

Basil gobbled a lettuce leaf. "Well spoken, me old featherface, I feel exactly the same. I can face death after dinner any time; only thing bothers me is that I might miss tea and supper, wot?"

Robbed of his n.o.ble moment, the owl glared at Basil and stalked off.

Matthias tapped the map. "This thing here bothers me. It's like two lines, one at an angle to the other, with sort of little splinters sticking off all along it."

Log-a-Log banged the side of the pot with the ladle. "Come on, come on, never mind death and doom and mysteries, this hotpof s ready. Form a line. No shoving in ahead, Basil. Get to the back, go on!"

Amid much jollity and laughter the shrews lined up with Matthias and his friends to be served. Basil was eagerly holding his bowl out for a portion of the hunters' hotpot when an eerie voice rang out: "Doom! Dooooooooommmm!"

Log-a-Log paused, the ladle deep in the pot. "What was that?"

Basil waggled his bowl. "Don't know, old chap. Fill the bowl, please, there's a good fellah."

Matthias and Orlando grabbed their weapons, but a call from Cheek rea.s.sured them: 313.

"It's all right. An old rabbit's showed up over here."

The newcomer was an ancient rabbit. He even had a wispy white beard. He staggered into the firelight, waving his paws and shouting in a wavery voice: "Doom, death, destruction and darkness. Doom, I say. Doooom!"

Basil waggled his ears at the ancient one. "I say, old chap, push off and let a bloke have his hotpot, will you."

They gathered around the rabbit. Matthias bowed to him.

"I am Matthias the Warrior of Redwall and these are my friends. We mean you no harm. What is your name, sir, and what is this place called?"

The rabbit stared straight ahead. "Doom. All about me is doom!"

"Oh, give your whiskers a rest, you old fogey," Basil called out as he nudged Log-a-Log to use his ladle, "or I'll never get served. Doom, doom, death'n'destruction! Can't you say anything that doesn't begin with a D?"

The old rabbit slumped down, his limbs trembling with age. Matthias placed his bowl of food in front of the rabbit and draped a sack about his shaking form. The creature ignored the food and continued his mutterings of death and doom. Cheek peered closely at the old rabbit.

"He's fuddled. Got a headful of black dust," he remarked.

Basil gave the otter a stern glance. "Mind your manners in front of your elders."

Matthias turned the same stem glance upon Basil. "Listen to the pot calling the kettle black. You don't seem to be setting Cheek much of an example."

The warrior mouse squatted down in front of the old one, pointing to the tall rocks. 'Tell me, sir, what lies beyond those rocks?"

For the first time the rabbit appeared to hear the question. He looked towards the badger and the bell, shaking his head.

"Death and darkness, terror and evil!" he intoned, then fell silent and would say no more.

Orlando leaned upon his axe. "It's no use, Matthias, the poor old fellow is frightened out of his wits. Leave him there with that sack and the food. Perhaps he might come round later and talk to us."

)ess Squirrel shook her tail. "I wonder what caused him to be like this. It must be something pretty awful to make a creature behave so. Look, Matthias, he's getting up."

The old rabbit rose slowly. Walking towards Matthias, he stroked the sack that was draped about him as if it was some kind of comforting robe. Halting in front of the warrior mouse, the ancient one untied a woven gra.s.s binder from his paw. A piece of stone dangled from it. Without a word he pressed the object into Matthias's paws and wandered off into the night, clutching the sack about him like a cloak. Log-a-Log and Jabez intercepted him, but Matthias motioned them away.

"Let him go, poor creature. He seems to be very fond of that sack. Maybe he gave me this in exchange for it."

Basil inspected the stone hanging from its gra.s.s bracelet. "Funny-lookin' doodah. What d'you suppose it is?"