“Yarrak! Mayhap it does not walk at all, fool. Mayhap it does not exist. That is what I have brought you here to prove. Tired eyes of dozy rooks will see frogs fly or stones lay eggs. I am Ironbeak, I know better than to believe such things. So should you.”

Mangiz held his counsel, deciding discretion was the better part of valor.

*   *   *

The sparrow who had been watching them from a slit window made his report to Cornflower and Constance.

“Bird say you no come, black crow worm no so sure. Both wait above Great Hallplace, now.”

Baby Rollo was having imaginary adventures dressed in the helmet of the Warrior. He waved the sword frantically, singing aloud:

“Kill a bird wivout a word,

Hit a black rook wiv a heavy book,

Bang a crow an’ make him go. . . .”

Cornflower relieved him of the wooden sword. “Stop waving that thing about, Rollo. You’ll put somebeast’s eye out with it. So, the General is waiting for the ghost to walk again. Let him wait. When it gets dark enough he won’t be disappointed. The spirit of Martin the Warrior will roam abroad.”

Constance gently polished the burnished breastplate. “You must be careful. He won’t be as easy to fool as those two last night. I think we need a more intricate plan this time.”

Cornflower laughed. “Good, then let’s sit here a good long while and think up a clever scheme. Don’t forget, it was our turn on supper duty tonight, but we’ll be excused because we’re working for the Abbey war effort. John Churchmouse and Ambrose Spike will have to cook the supper.”

Constance stifled a giggle. “Oh no! John and Ambrose, there’ll be war in the kitchen when those two meet over the cooking pots. Right, down to business. Let’s get our thinking caps on.”

*   *   *

The rooks of General Ironbeak were perched in the dormitory. They listened in awed silence as Grubclaw and Ragwing related their encounter with the Abbey ghost, especially as the two rooks were not above adding bits to make it a good story now that Ironbeak and Mangiz were not there.

“Hakka! It was dark out there last night. I could feel in my feathers that something was going to happen,” Ragclaw began.

“Kraak! Me too. It was darker and gloomier than the bottom of a northland well. So Ragwing and I stood sentry with beaks and claws at the ready for any funny business, didn’t we, bird?” Grubclaw added.

“Aye, we did that. Then suddenly Grubclaw says to me, ‘Ragwing, can you see that shadow down there?’”

“How could you see a shadow if it was pitch-black?” a rook interrupted.

“Well, er, er. It was the moonlight coming in through the windows. Yes, that’s right it was the moonlight, anyhow—”