Brian Jacques - [Redwall 03] - Mattimeo

laying in a good supply of wood to last until dawn. The strange tribe of painted ones had retreated back

into their pine forest, but Matthias took no chances. Sentries were posted. A meal was prepared, then they

sat about on the bank, discussing the day’s events, while deciding how to cross the river the next day.

Further south down the river, Mattimeo and his friends sat at the center of a huge log raft surrounded by

slavers. Two thick ropes connected the ferry to the far shore.

Slagar watched them rise and dip in the waters. “Your rats pull strong and well, Stonefleck. We will

soon be across.”

The deadpan expression did not leave Stonefleck’s face.

“I have more fighters at my command than leaves on the trees, fox. Look behind you, on the shore over

there. Your pursuers have made it through the pinewoods. They must be brave and resourceful. We will see

just how brave on the morrow. My army could do with a bit of fun.”

Slagar gazed into the darkened waters. “That’s if they make it across the river!”

The confines of Cavern Hole became oppressive to John Churchmouse, although his wife actually enjoyed

the close community, chatting with Cornflower and looking after baby Rollo, preparing breakfast with the

Brothers and Sisters. John slipped out quietly, his recording books and pens in a satchel over his shoulder.

He slid past Constance, who was sleeping on the stairs, crossed Great Hall and installed himself on a corner

window ledge. It was a peaceful little niche where he often sat to write and morning sunlight flooded in,

warming his face.

John opened his recording book as he gazed out at a corner of the orchard, watching three magpies flap

off heavily until they were out of his vision.

By the fur! Those cheeky birds had a nerve. Occupying the Abbey roofspaces, and now filching supplies

from the very orchard that the Redwallers tended so lovingly.

The mood for writing left John. He closed the book and climbed down from the sill. Help would be

needed in the kitchens.

There was a disturbance at the top of the stairs between Great Hall and Cavern Hole. John broke into a run,

the satchel bumping at his side. The crow they called Mangiz bowled him flat as he flapped off into the air

towards the upper galleries.

Constance blundered into John and tripped. She sat up, shaking her paw at the bird.

“Scum, kidnapper, you filthy brute!” she shouted.

John stood up, dusting his habit off. “What’s happened, Constance? What is the matter?”

“Bad news, I’m afraid, John. You’d better come down into Cavern Hole. This concerns you.”

The Churchmouse followed the badger anxiously.

The creatures who were up and about gathered round Constance as she flung three scraps of material down

upon the table.

“Look at this!”

The Abbot picked them up. “Scraps of material. What are they?”

Constance ground her teeth together angrily. “Pieces of Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse’s aprons

and a fragment of baby Rollo’s little habit. They’ve been captured by the birds.”

Abbot Mordalfus shook his head in disbelief. “Impossible. Surely they were here last night, weren’t

they? Did anybeast see them?”

Foremole shrugged. “May’ap, but maybe not. Oi niver thought of a-looken for ’em.”

John Churchmouse dashed his satchel to the floor. “My wife, captured by those filthy birds. Where have

they got her?”

He made a dash for the stairs and was stopped by Winifred and Ambrose. The churchmouse struggled

furiously.

“Let me go, there’s no telling what those murdering savages will do to her!”

“John Churchmouse, be still!” ordered Mordalfus. “Come and sit by this table, sir. Come on, do as I say.

You aren’t doing anybeast a bit of good behaving like this. Let us hear what Constance has to say.”

John looked up in surprise. It was seldom that the Abbot spoke harshly to any creature. The fight went

out of him and he allowed Ambrose to lead him to a chair.

Mordalfus turned to the badger. “Constance, tell us all you know of this incident, please.”

“Father Abbot, there’s not a lot to tell, I’m afraid. Yesterday Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse were in

the bell tower. Rollo must have joined them later. Well, when I called all the creatures in and shut the

Abbey door I must’ve locked them out. They probably didn’t hear me calling. There’s no entrance to the

Abbey from the bell tower, so they must have tried later to cross the grounds. Those birds caught them in

the open. The crow said that they took them to the roofspaces. General Ironbeak wants to see us outside at

noon.”

Sitting in a corner of the dimly lit roofspace, Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse tried to make themselves

as unobtrusive as possible, keeping baby Rollo quiet and still. General Ironbeak and his birds had returned

from their dust bath on the path outside Redwall. It had done little good, and in the end they had resorted

to wallowing in the brackish ditchwater to rid themselves of the sludge which clung to their feathers. It was

not a great improvement; the stench still clung to them.

Ironbeak glared ferociously at his captives. “ Yaggah! You and your friends will pay dearly for this

insult.”

Cornflower covered baby Rollo with her torn apron. “You great bully, you deserve all you got!”

Mangiz had not been caught by the trap on the stairway, and he stayed slightly apart from his General,

turning his beak to avoid the unpleasant odor.

“ Kraah! Silence, mouse! At noon you will get all you deserve. You should be pleading with the mighty

Ironbeak to spare your miserable lives.”

Mrs. Churchmouse eyed the crow with distaste. “We would never grovel to ruffians like you. Slay us if

you want, but you will never conquer Redwall Abbey.”

“Brave words are like empty eggshells. You will beg when the time comes,” Mangiz predicted.

Rollo peered out from under the apron.

“Gen’ral Pongo!” he said, making a face.

“Silence! Keep that small one quiet or we will kill him now.”

“Oh, shut your beak, you coward!” Cornflower called out indignantly. “Killing infants is probably about

all you scavengers are good for.”

Mangiz was about to reply when Ironbeak silenced him.

“Mangiz, enough. We do not argue with mousewives.”

Mrs. Churchmouse rummaged in her apron pocket and found some dried fruit she had been using in

the kitchens. She gave it to baby Rollo and sat with her paw about him.

“I wish your Matthias were back, he’d know what to do,” she whispered.

“He certainly would, but don’t worry, your John and Constance and the Abbot will see we come to no

harm. It’s Rollo I’m concerned about. They can do what they like with me, as long as they don’t harm a hair

on that baby’s head.”

Mrs. Churchmouse stroked Rollo’s tiny ears. “Yes, bless him. D’you remember when your Mattimeo

was this size? My Tim and Tess weren’t much older, and they were a trio of rascals, I can tell you.”

Cornflower smiled. “Aye, but we had happy times with them. I hope, wherever they are now, that

they’re safe and well.”

“They’ll all come marching back up that road one fine day, I know it. Then the enemies of our Abbey

will rue the day they were born.”

Chapter 31

Stonefleck’s army was indeed a large one. Mattimeo had never seen so many rats. They swarmed through

the bushes, trees and hillocks of the far shore, efficient and silent. Every rat carried a bow and arrows, and