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Back Mattimeo
Chapters (64)
  1. CAPTURED!
  2. Other Books
  3. Title Page
  4. Map
  5. Introduction
  6. BOOK ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. BOOK TWO
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. BOOK THREE
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. What’s next onyour reading list?

Matthias watched his son’s face. Now was the testing time. Would he behave like the spoiled little creature who had been indulged all his life by the Abbey dwellers, or would he show a bit of character?

The young mouse swallowed hard, nodding his head. “I’ll do as you have asked, Dad.”

Matthias clapped him heartily on the back. “Good mouse. That’s the mark of a warrior in training, obedience. Off you go now!”

*   *   *

Morning sunlight stencilled the high window shaped in soft pink relief on the sandstone floor of Great Hall as Mattimeo passed through on his way to the kitchens. He felt the fur on his shoulders prickle slightly, as if some beast were watching him from behind. Turning slowly, he faced the west wall. No creature was there. The hall was empty, save for the picture of Martin the Warrior upon the Redwall tapestry. Mattimeo often had this same experience when he was alone and near the large woven cloth. He drew closer, standing in front of the magnificent armoured mouse’s likeness. Martin the Warrior looked big and strong. He held the famous sword easily in his right paw, a smile upon his broad honest face, and behind him the images of bygone enemies fled in fear as if trying to escape from the tapestry. The young mouse’s eyes glowed in admiration of his hero. He spoke to Martin, not knowing that his father Matthias had done the same thing when he was young.

“I could feel you watching me, Martin. I’m just on my way to do penance in the kitchens, but you probably know that. I didn’t mean to disobey my parents or cause them unhappiness. You can understand that, can’t you? I had to fight Vitch because he said things about my father. He thought I was scared of him, but I am the son of a warrior and I could not let him insult my family. If my father knew the truth of it all he would not have punished me, but, well, he’s my father, you see. I can’t explain things properly to him. You’re different, Martin. You understand how I feel.”

Mattimeo shuffled his paws on the stones beneath Martin’s never changing expression.

“You know, sometimes you’re just like my father. Look, I’m sorry, I’ll try to be a better mouse. I promise not to fight or get into any more trouble or worry my parents again.”

He turned and shuffled sulkily toward the kitchens, muttering as he went, “I wish there was another Great War, then I’d show ’em. Huh! They’d be glad of young mice that could fight then. I wouldn’t be sent off to scour pans. They’d probably have to give me a medal or something like that.”