The trio had prised the bung from a barrel that lay on its side. They used long hollow reeds as drinking straws, dipping them down into the liquid and sucking up the sparkling ice-cold strawberry juice.

Tess gave Mattimeo a straw, and he could not resist joining them.

*   *   *

Cold strawberry cordial becomes sickly when drunk too freely. Matt, Tess, Tim and Sam soon found this out, and they lay back awhile and rested. Later, the two churchmice and the young squirrel helped Mattimeo to fill the flagons. Together they bore them up to the kitchens.

Ambrose Spike raised his snout from a bowl of nutbrown beer as they passed through his cellar. “Mmmm, ’s funny, there was only one of ’em here before,” he muttered.

*   *   *

Friar Hugo was working flat out now. There was still more than enough to be done before the feast.

“You there, Billum Mole, can you dig me a nice neat tunnel through the middle of that big marrow?”

“Hurr, gaffer, oi serpintly can. Pervidin’ oi can eat it as oi goes along.”

“Righto, carry on. Oh, there you are, young Matti. Now take your friends along to the larder. I want two small white cheeses flavoured with sage, two large red cheeses with beechnut and rosemary and one of the extra large yellow cheeses with acorn and apple bits. Be very careful how you roll the extra large yellow; don’t go knocking any creature down or breaking furniture.”

The four chums dashed off whooping, “Hurray, we’re going to roll the cheeses!”

*   *   *

Abbot Mordalfus cut a comical sight for so dignified a figure. He was up to his whiskers in fresh cream, candied peel, nuts and wild plums.

Friar Hugo dusted off the Abbot’s face with his dockleaf as he passed. “Ha, there you are, Alf. Well, how’s the special Redwall Abbot’s cake coming along?”

Old Mordalfus chewed thoughtfully on some candied peel. “Very well, thank you, Hugo. Though I still suspect it lacks something. What d’you think?”

Hugo dipped his dockleaf into the mix and tasted it. “Hmmm, see what you mean, Alf. If I were you, I’d put some redcurrant jelly in to make it look more like an Abbot’s cake. Doesn’t hurt to cheat a little. After all, you’re only going by Abbot Saxus’s recipe, and that’s a matter of taste. Yes, put more redcurrant in and we’ll name it Redcurrantwall Abbot Alf cake.”

The Abbot dusted flour from his paws, smiling proudly. “What a good idea. Hi there, Matthias, where are you off to?”

The Warrior of Redwall was carrying two fishing lines and bait. Dodging a pair of moles who scurried past with a trolleyful of steaming bilberry muffins, he called across, “Don’t you remember, Abbot, we were supposed to be going fishing in the Abbey pool for our annual centerpiece?”