The Sly One nodded. “I was wondering when somebody was going to ask me that one. Well, I’ll tell you. I think the place is bad luck. Others have tried and failed, and I mean real warriors, not like you dithering lot. No, all I want is slaves and revenge. A mere pawful of rabble could never hold a place like that. You’ll know what I mean when you see the big badger, or the otters. They really know how to fight. They’re not afraid of death if their precious Abbey is threatened.”

“And we’re going in there unarmed?” Halftail’s voice sounded shaky.

“Of course we are, halfwit,” the fox said sarcastically. “You can bet they’ll search us, and we wouldn’t last a second if they found arms on us. That Matthias the Warrior would go at us like a thunderbolt.”

“Matthias the Warrior? Is that the badger?” Halftail asked.

“No, he’s a mouse.”

“Haha, a mouse,” Skinpaw sneered.

“Yes, a mouse. But you won’t laugh when you see him. That one’s a born warrior. He has a sword too, and I think it’s magic.”

“A magic sword! Hoho, I might just borrow that for meself,” Halftail howled.

“Stop the cart!” Slagar commanded.

Immediately the cart ground to a halt. The silken mask puffed in and out furiously with savage temper.

“Don’t dare touch that sword. Its magic is only for the Redwall mice; there’s probably a spell on it. It would be the death of us. Stick to the slaving, do you hear me? It’ll be bad enough stealing his son, but if you follow my plan we’ll get away with it.”

There was an ominous silence. Dust rose off the path where the cart had stopped. The slavers looked doubtfully at one another, the unspoken question hanging like a rock in their mouths.

Steal the son of such a warrior, so that was Slagar’s revenge. A fearsome warrior with a magic sword, strong enough to protect a whole abbey.

“Who told you to stop? Come on, stir your stumps and get this cart moving,” Slagar told them.

They pushed and pulled with mixed emotions.

“Do as you’re told and I’ll make you rich,” Slagar egged them on with his sly tongue. “You all know me, Slagar the Cruel, the Sly One. Nowhere is there a cleverer slaver than me. I am the Lord of double-dealing, and my plan will easily confound an abbeyful of honest woodlanders. There’s not a stoat, weasel, rat, ferret or fox among them; they’re too noble for their own good. They’ll never find us. I will have my revenge on Redwall and you will all be rich, when we go to sell them where none can follow.”

Scringe the ferret asked the question, dreading the answer as the words tumbled out.