"Kreeegah! Stryk Redkite fly, Sissimay. Look!"

"Yes, 1 see you, Stryk. But remember your promise. Let them leave our country peacefully."

When the birds were lost to view. Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse took Rollo with them around the walltop to the south edge. The Abbot watched them go.

"Where do you think you're off to?" he asked them.

"Now that the Abbey is safe. Father Abbot, we are going to keep a vigil from the south wall until Matthias comes home with our young ones. With your permission, of course," Cornflower added.

Mordalfus smiled understanding^.

"Permission granted. You are excused all other duties. Keep a good watch with stout hearts. I know in my bones that our Warrior will return with the young ones."

Cornflower shaded her eyes with her paw, repeating o^etly to herself as she gazed south into Mossflower, "Martin, return our loved ones safe to us."

Baby Rollo had not quite got the gist of Cornflower's quiet words. However, he placed a chubby paw to his brow as he chanted with her, "Marto aturnd luv ones safetyus."

426.

The Kingdom of Malkariss was gone. So were the last remnants of old Loamhedge. Sunk deeper beneath the earth, the jumble of stones that had once been planned as an underground realm was blocked forever to the eyes of everybeast, choked and cemented in its deep grave by rocks, shale, soil and roots.

Matthias looked up to the rim of the crater, where trees leaned at odd angles in the sunken copse, and brown and black soil showed through the riven cracks in the gra.s.sy carpet. Wearily he sheathed the sword across his shoulders and turned to his followers.

"Follow me to Redwall!"

They were halfway up the steep hill when Vitch made a bolt. He dashed downhill, crossed the depression and began climbing the other side.

Matnmeo started to pursue him, but his father held him back.

"Let him go, son. He has no place among honest woodlanders."

They stood for a moment and watched the small rat scramble over a large boulder half embedded in the hillside. Suddenly Vitch screamed and began scrambling back on to the boulder, holding both paws up pleadingly.

"No, no, please. I never told them anything. I wasn't 427.

going with them. They found me!"

The silken mask and cloak appeared in view. Then there was a whirling sound as the metal-ended bolas hissed through the air.

Vitch died without a sound.

"Slagar!"

Matthias and Orlando rushed down the hillside, unloosing their weapons as they ran.

The crazed fox stood up. He ran halfway to the fallen Vitch, changed his mind at the sight of the oncoming warriors and began scrambling to the top of the hill.

Foam flecked wildly from Orlando's mouth as he swung the axe, pounding uphill as easily as he would over level ground. Spurred on by the sight of his archenemy. Matthias raced alongside the badger, his teeth clenched tightly, brandishing the sword of Red wall, The whole army turned and followed them.

Slagar made it to the top of the hill. He glanced behind, to see the two Warriors halfway up pursuing him. Still looking over his shoulder, the masked fox ran.

But only three paces.

The earth swallowed him up. He fell like a great fluttering moth, down into the one place that had not sunk or collapsed: the old well of Loamhedge Abbey, the secret exit from the Kingdom of Malkariss!

Matthias and Orlando stood with their chests heaving as they gasped in air, staring down at the crumpled ma.s.s far below in the deep well. The secret way was no more an avenue of escape, it was merely a deep pit that proved useless except for its final function: the grave of Slagar.

"I swore to slay that silken hooded thief!" Orlando sighed with regret.

Matthias leaned upon his sword. "So did I, friend. This has saved us any argument. Let's get some rocks, at least we can bury him together."

The body of Vitch, stfll with Slagar's bolas wrapped around its skull, was lowered down into the pit. The 428.

former slaves filled in the last of the pit with soil.

Orlando tamped the earth with a hefty paw. "There's an end to him. There are no words you could say over such a creature."

As Matthias nodded agreement, a poetic voice rang out from above: "A taker of slaves and a thief, I know not what master he served, Cruel Slagar has come to grief, 'twas all that he deserved,"

"Sir Harry!"

The big owl flapped down beside Matthias.

"Yes, ifs old Sir Harry the Muse.

I see you won victory.

So I flew back to bring you the news.

Just guess what happened to me.

I chased those vermin south, I think they're running yet.

When I heard a great noise from afar.

So I said to myself 'I'll bet Thaf s my friends doing battle beneath the ground!'

Then I turned on my wings and flew to see How a mouse could make such a big sound!"

Basil came ambling up. "Oh, hullo, ifs you, the great flyin' poetic feedbag. How are you, old chap? Hungry, I'll wager. Wot?"

Matthias chuckled as he gave Mattimeo his sword to carry. "Come on, son, let's go home!"

429.

53.

The Summer of the Golden Plain drew to a glorious finish, and the yellow flowers faded and died. Matthias had not returned to Redwall, but still Cornflower did not give up hope. She even pleaded with the Abbot not to name the season. Though Mordalfus had chosen Autumn of the Early Chestnut, he bowed to Cornflower's wishes. Stryk Redkite had returned to her beloved mountains, and the orchard was beginning to get heavy with the rich harvest of fruit and berries.

Cornflower stood on the south wall and faithfully kept up her vigil with Mrs. Churchmouse and Rollo.

"See, the woodlands are turning brown and russet. Soon the hazelnut and acorn will be ready for gathering. We'll miss Jess and Sam; n.o.beast gathers the nuts as well as a squirrel," she said sadly.

"Aye, beechnuts too," Mrs. Churchmouse added. "Remember last autumn, when all the young ones went into Mossflower nut-garnering? My Tim and Tess bom had long sticks to knock them down from the low branches."

Cornflower sighed. "My Matti got into trouble over the nut-gathering. He took his father's sword from the gatehouse to rattle the branches with. Oh, I do wish he and Matthias were back, Mrs. Churchmouse."

"If hopes were honey we'd have a cupboardful.

43.

Cornflower. Ah well, we'd best get indoors. If s way past young master Rollo's bedtime. Who's on supper tonight?" Mrs. Churchmouse asked, to change the subject.

"Er, Sister May and Brother Trugg. It should be something nice. Come on, little Rollo, supper and bye-byes."

The infant took Cornflower's paw as they descended the wallsteps.

"A come f morrer on wall?" he wanted to know.

"Yes, Rollo. We'll come to the wall tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that until my Mattimeo comes back. Do you remember Mattimeo?"

Rollo rubbed a tiny paw into his eyes. He was tired. "A'member 'timeo."

Supper VMS good: redcurrant fritters and honeybread with hot elderberry cordial. The Abbey had been repaired after the bird damage, food was plentiful and the season was mild, yet a gloom hung over the Abbey without the presence of absent loved ones.

Cornflower sat late at table with Constance and the Abbot. Ambrose Spike had gone to his wine cellar, Mrs. Churchmouse and John had carried Rollo off to the dormitory, and all the other Redwallers had gone off to settle down for the night. The only sound was Winifred and Brother Rufus laying the trays out in the kitchen for next morning's baking.

Mordalfus folded up his gla.s.ses and yawned. "Still no sign of them yet, Cornflower?"

"No, Father Abbot. But don't you worry, they'll come home soon."

"You have great faith, daughter. That is good. But we must learn in this life that the time comes to be realistic. You must see that they've been gone nearly a season's length now. That is a long time in the span of any creature."

A tear rolled down Cornflower's cheek, and she wiped it away busily.

431.

"Oh dear, my eyes get so watery when I'm tired. Maybe I should get Brother Dan to make me spectacles like yours."

Constance's heart went out to the brave little mouse, and the badger stood up decisively.

"Right, if s quarter moon tomorrow night. If they're not back by the time the moon is full, then I'm going out to look for them!"

The Abbot nodded his approval. "An excellent idea, old friend. I'll send the remaining sparrows with you and whoever you choose to take."

They shook paws across the table. Constance winked cheerily at Cornflower.

"Come on, Cornflower. Off to bed with you, or you'll be too tired to climb those south wall steps tomorrow."

When Cornflower had gone, Constance shook her head.

"I'm afraid I must agree with you, Mordalfus. A season is a long time, and the longer they're away the less chance they stand of coming back."

"I know, Constance, but I couldn't say that in front of Cornflower. She keeps her hopes up, though she looks so sad these days, and the churchmice too. CXyou really suppose they'll come back?"

Constance toyed with some crumbs on die tabletop. "My heart likes to think so. However, my brain tells me different. At least the hope that we'll be sending a search party out soon should cheer her up. Ah well, come on, young feller, if s past bedtime."

The two friends shuffled off wearily up the steps into Great Hall.

Shortly before dawn, Cornflower turned restlessly on her pallet in the dormitory. She had decided not to sleep in the gatehouse cottage until her family was reunited. Soft voices rang through her head as grey figures stole across her dreams. "Matthias, is that you, are you back?" she called out in her sleep. "No, wait, you're not 432.

Matthias. If s Mattimeo. Oh, my little Matti, how you've grown. Is it really you? Come closer and let me look at you."

The figure loomed closer out of the mists of slumber. It was a warrior mouse, neither Matthias or Mattimeo, but so like them both. The mouse smiled at Cornflower and pointed in the direction of the south wall.

"Martin becomes Matthias becomes Mattimeo, and so it goes. Go now," a voice said.

The dream faded as some creature tugged at Cornflower's paw.

She opened her eyes and sat up, as baby Rollo climbed on the pallet.

"Wanna waterdrink, Rollo firstee," he pleaded.

Cornflower hurriedly threw on a habit over her nightgown. "Come on, little one, we'll take water and bread up on the wall. Lef s have a picnic breakfast. The sun will soon be up."

Rollo skipped beside her happily. "Water'n'breads, pickernick on wall."

The sun rose over Mossflower like a ball of red fire, lighting the treetops, and dispelling the long grey and purple rolls of cloud. The sky was soft pink tinged blue. Birds heralded the day as a light mist rose from the forest.

Cornflower looked out eagerly over the still woodlands. Not a leaf moved or a blade of gra.s.s stirred. There was nothing out there. She set Rollo's breakfast out upon the stones. Then, clenching her paws in determination, she waited. Still nothing.

The morning brightened as Redwail Abbey came alive with the sounds of creatures going about their daily ch.o.r.es and pursuits. John Churchmouse sat next to his wife at the breakfast table. He looked up from the maps of Mossflower he was studying.

433.

w "No baby Rollo this morning, dear?"

Mrs. Churchmouse pa.s.sed the cheese to Ambrose. "No, that's strange. Cornflower's missing too. I wonder where they have got to."

John finished his October ale at a single draught. 'Top of the south wall, of course, where they go with you every day. Come on, I'll take you up there and we'll stand with them for a while."

When they arrived at the south ramparts, Rollo was hurling apple cores over the wall at imaginary rooks.

"Morning, Cornflower. Glad to see you've got a warrior to protect you in case of invasion," John remarked.

"Oh, good morning to you both. Sorry I didn't give you a call, but we decided to come up here early and bring breakfast with us."

John chuckled. "Good job it wasn't porridge, the way that young scamp is chucking stuff about. Here, Rollo, why don't you try throwing a pebble with your little sling. It'll go further."