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 blood 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 midmorning when Matthias sat on a small mound with Basil and Cheek. The old hare shook his ears mournfully.

“Bollywoggled. That’s what we are, old lad, flummicated! Blow me, there’s no way to the top of that cliff unless we sprout wings.”

“We need a big ladder. That’d be better than wings,” Cheek sniggered 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 not least, allow me to present Basil Stag Hare, retired scout and foot fighter.”

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 the 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 righter 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 anticipated Basil’s paw this time, and dodged to one side.

Matthias nodded towards the clifftop. “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. Why?” 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,