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Back Mattimeo Save as PDF
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?

“Leave it to me, Father Abbot,” little Sister May smiled sweetly. “I have enough herbs, berries and roots in my infirmary cupboard to lay a horse out flat. Oh, it will be exciting. I’ve always wanted to try my paw at sleeping potions.”

Foremole tugged his snout in admiration. “You’m a proper liddle fiend an’ no mistake, marm. Oi’ll escort you up to ’firmary to pick up your potions an’ suchloik.”

Ambrose Spike crooked a paw at the Abbot. “Follow me, I’ve got your big nets stowed away in my cellars.”

Mobilized by fresh hope, the Abbey dwellers went about their tasks.

*   *   *

Up in the roofspaces Cornflower rocked the sleeping baby Rollo upon her lap as she and Mrs. Churchmouse conversed in hushed tones.

“Look, bless him, he’s snoring away like my Mattimeo used to when he was a baby,” she said, becoming sad. “I don’t think there’s a moment of one day since Mattimeo’s been gone when I haven’t thought of him. First I worry, then I tell myself it’ll be all right because Matthias will have probably found him, then I go back to worrying, then I tell myself he may have escaped. Oh, Mrs. Churchmouse, if only they were all babies again like Rollo.”

“Aye, those were the best times. My Tim and Tess were a right pair of little scallywags, I can tell you. Mr. Churchmouse and I never got a wink’s sleep that first season they were born. All they wanted to do was play the whole night long. D’you suppose that the raven will really have us thrown from the roof?” asked Mrs. Churchmouse apprehensively.

“He’ll do what he has to, Mrs. Churchmouse. I’m afraid of him, but I don’t care what happens as long as that horrible bird doesn’t get Redwall. That would be the end.”

The churchmouse stroked baby Rollo; he had stopped snoring and started sucking his paw.

“What hope is there for this poor little mite, no mummy and a prisoner too?” she wondered.

Cornflower sighed. The roof space was dark and chilly with night draughts sweeping in under the eaves. All around them the black birds perched in the rafters, and it was difficult to tell whether they were awake or sleeping. She wondered where Matthias was and what he would be doing at this moment. Thinking of her husband, the Redwall Warrior, gave her courage again.

“Don’t you fret, Mrs. Churchmouse. Our friends in the Abbey will have made plans to free us, you’ll see. Let’s try and get a bit of sleep. Here, we’ll share my old shawl.”

Clouds scudded across the moon on their way across the night sky, while a million stars twinkled over the gently swaying forest.

33