The Abbot chuckled. “Oh, we managed, I suppose. However, I’ll let Cornflower tell you about that.”

Cornflower took her paw from around Mattimeo’s shoulder for the first time that day. She stood up and grinned mischievously.

“Hmmm, it was as dull as ditchwater without our warriors and young ones about. Then one fine day we had a visit from some birds. Let me tell you about it. . . .”

*   *   *

They listened spellbound, fuming with indignity at the thought of baby Rollo being held hostage, cheering for Sister May and her drugged strawberries, laughing aloud at the warrior ghost mouse and the terror it caused among the rooks, and finally applauding Constance and Stryk Redkite at the final struggle.

Mattimeo picked up his father’s sword and offered it to Cornflower.

“Here, Mum, you should be the Champion of Redwall!”

Matthias shook his head in amazement. “By the claw and the fur! What a brave bunch we have at our Abbey. I would dearly like to meet this Stryk Redkite.”

Constance gazed fondly at Auma as she stroked the young one’s headstripes. “You will, Matthias, you will, someday. Now, we must find quarters for our new friends. Sister May and Brother Rufus will open the infirmary to all, for sore paws and old wounds must be treated. I’m afraid there’s no supper tonight. You’ll have to go straight to bed. Anyhow, you lot look as if a long rest will do you good.”

Basil’s ears flopped with disappointment. “What, no supper? I say, Constance old fruit, the only thing that’s kept B. Stag Hare on his paws for nearly a full season was the hope of a good old scoff at Redwall. I mean, what’s a chap to do if he’s had the old nosebag cut off, wot, wot? Bad form, old gel, t’ say nothin’ of rank bad manners to our guests. No supper. I don’t believe it!”

Mrs. Churchmouse slapped Basil smartly upon the paw. “Mr. Stag Hare, will you kindly give your overworked jaws a rest and be quiet! Thank you. Now let me explain. The reason that we are not cooking supper is that the season is to be named first thing tomorrow: the Autumn of the Warriors’ Return. All our Abbey dwellers have volunteered to work through the night, but new arrivals must sleep and keep out of the way. Starting at sunup, we are going to hold a feast in the orchard.”

Basil’s ears stood up like two signals. “A f-feast, y’ say, marm. Will it be a big un?”

Cornflower spread her paws. “The biggest one you’ve ever sat down to, Basil.”

“Golly! Bigger than the summer feast?”

“Far bigger!”

“An’ you’re all goin’ to cook right through the night?”

“Oh yes, that’s why we don’t want you under our paws. Otherwise we might not have it ready on time.”

“Got it, marm. All the weary warriors sleep while you sportin’ creatures cook up a whackin’ beanfeast. Right?”

“Right!”