The three friends waved to him silently, then stood by their poling positions at the side rails. Gawjo called out from the stern, where he sat plying the tiller, “No time to waste, crew. Let’s get there quick as we can!”

All eyes were fixed on the mysterious island looming up, dark and forbidding, with Castle Marl dominating its rocky landing plateau.

Owing to the previous day’s events, when the rule of the island had changed so swiftly, the castle courtyards, front and back, lay silent. Mokkan had let the guards celebrate, and they were not yet up and about. In the slave pens the captives were beginning to stir. An old mouse stood with his face pressed to the bars. Behind him a grizzled otter hauled himself stiffly up from the damp straw that served them as bedding. “Wot’s ’appenin’ out there, matey?”

The mouse was joined by a sturdy hedgehog maid. “Well, it ain’t brekkfist, that’s for shore. Where’s the guards today? Still sleepin’, I suppose.”

“They’ll appear all in good time. After all, we ain’t goin’ nowheres, are we?” called a squirrel slave from the back of the pen.

The mouse chuckled humorlessly at his dry remark. “Right enough there, friend. We may’s well make the best of our extra rest. Better’n toilin’ in the fields drenched by that rain we had yesterday. I’m still damp all over.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the clear dawn rise, thankful that the rain had ceased. The otter suddenly cocked his head on one side, listening. “Wot was that noise? I ’eard a funny sound.”

“Prob’ly my stomach tellin’ me mouth it’s time to eat.”

Catching the hedgehog’s paw, the otter silenced her. “No, it wasn’t that, mate. Lissen!”

Something metallic clinked against the back walltop, then clinked again as it fell back. There was a whirring noise, followed by a brief silence. A thick knotted rope flew down past the bars with a three-pronged grappling hook tied to its end that hit the courtyard stones with a ringing clank. Dumbfounded for a moment, they stood looking at it, then the hogmaid moved swiftly. Grabbing a piece of wet sacking, she lay flat and flopped it through the bars. It caught on the grapples, and she pulled it back in until the hook was in her reach. Her paws shook with excitement as she held on to the rope and the grappling hook.

The old mouse gazed at it in disbelief as the other slaves crowded round. “Why’d anybeast want to throw that to us?”

Wedging the hook firmly between the bars, the otter gave the rope three sharp tugs. He too was shaking all over. “One thing’s shore, it ain’t Marlfoxes, water rats or magpies. Whoever ’tis they must be friends. Let’s ’elp ’em!”