“Easily. Constance and Foremole tossed the black cloth over me, I dodged round the door and we all hid behind it. Ironbeak searched outside and inside, but he didn’t look behind the door.”

Foremole wrinkled his nose. “Yurr, these scones tastes loik ’otroot. Burr, gimme watter. There be enuff ’otroot in yon soops to set afire to you’m!”

Ambrose gave him a look of injured dignity. “Try some of the roseleaf and cowslip custard.”

The Abbot prodded it gingerly. “Oh, is that what it is? I thought it was a collapsed bird’s nest.”

Ambrose sniffed and went off to the wine cellar with his snout in the air. “Well, I enjoyed it. You lot don’t deserve a good cook!”

*   *   *

Night had fallen over the copse. Matthias and Orlando sat upon the step, putting an edge to axe and sword against the stone. Shrews filled their sling pouches, Basil ate his fill, and Cheek and Jess fashioned javelins, hardening their points over the campfire. Daggers, swords and knives were tested, bows made from strong green boughs, arrows tipped and hardened in the fire. It was but a few hours to dawn when all the preparations were completed. They lay down to take a brief rest.

Before they slept, Matthias, Jess, Orlando and Jabez stood above the stone step. They held paws foursquare and swore a solemn oath.

“At dawn we will go down those steps. We will not come back up without our young ones, nor will we come up if the fox still lives.”

Orlando turned to the five shivering weasel captives and pointed his axe at them.

“Get yourselves ready, because you’ll be going down first.”

44

The fighting rooks of General Ironbeak were badly frightened. At first it had been exciting to perch and talk of the ghost, when none of them really believed there was one. But now they had seen it with their own eyes, a terrifying phantom that uttered dire warnings. Ironbeak himself could not harm it; the thing had vanished completely in a trice.

All through the night the sentry posts had been deserted while the rooks huddled together in the darkened dormitory, whispering of the awesome event. Grubclaw and Ragwing had been right, so had the wise Mangiz; the great redstone house was a bad place to be. The advent of a golden sunlit morning did little to change their minds.

That task was left to General Ironbeak, and he set about it with gusto. Sunrays flooded through the broken dormitory window, turning the raven leader’s black wings an iridescent green, flecked with tinges of blue. He paced up and down with an aggressive rolling gait as he confronted his command.

“Yaggah! You cuckoo-brained bunch, can you not see it is all a trick the earthcrawlers are playing on us?”