Rooter wiped tears of merriment from his eyes. “Boi ’okey we woant, ee’ll smell ’em a gudd day’s march off, hurr hurr.”

*   *   *

Outside on the grass in front of the Abbey, Constance was covering for the mole activities with a decoy. Any creature who could twirl a sling or fire an arrow was brought out to help.

Ironbeak and Mangiz had come out onto the bell tower roof with some rooks. They basked in the warm morning sun, watching the pathetic attempts of the fighting squads below.

Ambrose Spike marched up and down in fine military fashion with baby Rollo in tow twirling a tiny sling.

“Right, troops, here’s the drill. I want to see how many decent archers and slingthrowers we can raise. . . .”

Baby Rollo echoed the last words of each phrase. “Flingthrowers ’e can raise. . . .”

“Now, when I give the command, fire and sling away at the bell tower. But mind, keep an eye on those missiles. What goes up must come down.”

“Go up mus’ come down.”

“Be careful you don’t get a stone on your head or an arrow in your paw!”

“Narrow in y’paw!”

“Just a moment, Sister May. Point that arrow the other way, please, marm, otherwise you’ll end up shooting yourself in the nose.”

“Shooten inner noses!”

Ambrose raised his paw. “Redwall defence volunteers. Ready, aim . . . fire!”

Most of the stones and arrows did not go even a quarter of the way up the bell tower. They fell short, clattering off the solid masonry of Redwall Abbey.

*   *   *

General Ironbeak was amused at the puny efforts of the creatures below. He sat enjoying the spectacle while his birds danced jibingly upon the roof, cawing and cackling insultingly.

“Yakka. Hey, earthcrawlers, we’re up here!”

“Cawhawhaw! What a bunch of ninnies.”

“Look at that old mouse, he’s slung himself on his back!”

“Cahaha! Please shoot me. Look, I’m standing with my wings spread to make an easy target.”

“Rakkachak! See that baby mouse, he tossed a rock up and it came down right between his ears!”

Ironbeak paced the stone guttering, hopping neatly on to a gargoyle spout.

“Fools! Why do they waste their energy like this, Mangiz?”

“Who knows, my General. Maybe it is anger at the death of the sparrows which drives them to do this.”

“Ha, idiots! Some too young, others too old, none trained in the way of the warrior.”

“True, Ironbeak. There is only the big stripedog who is dangerous. How can they hope to defeat us like this?”