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 suprise. 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.