The Sly One swirled his cloak impatiently. “Then sing it over and over again. You two, try to pick up the tune on the flute and drum. The rest of you, tumble about in the road and join Skinpaw on the ‘Lalala’ bits.”

Slagar kept his eye against a joint that was slightly open in the solid gate timbers.

The entire troupe went through the routine several times. Slagar waved his paw encouragingly at them.

“Keep it up, louder, louder! I can see they’ve heard us. They’re coming across the grounds. Keep it up, keep going.”

The hooded fox leapt aboard the cart. Crouching, he covered himself with a pile of old coloured wagon sheeting.

*   *   *

There was a scraping of drawbars and bolts, and the door opened partially as Matthias came out onto the path, followed by Constance the badger and Ambrose Spike. They stood awhile, watching the performers, then Matthias called out. “Hey there. What can we do for you?”

“Send ’em on their way, scruffy bunch of ragbags,” Ambrose Spike snorted.

“Ambrose, don’t be so ill mannered!” Constance nudged him sharply. “We can at least be civil to travellers. Leave the talking to Matthias and myself.”

Slagar bounded up in a whirl of coloured cloth. Leaping over the edge of the cart, he landed on the path, twirling his cape this way and that.

“Happy Midsummer Eve to you, my lords,” he said, doing his level best to keep his grating voice light and cheerful. “You see before you a band of strolling entertainers, foolish fellows and peace-loving buffoons. We travel the roads merely to bring you songs, stories, tumbling and leaping, comical antics to amuse you and your families. Where do we come from? No creature knows, except I, Stellar Lunaris, master of the moon and stars.”

The fox whirled round and round, showing the lining of his cape, the silk shimmering and twinkling in the hot summer twilight on the dusty roadway.

Constance relaxed slightly. Only a band of travelling players. Her keen old eyes checked the ditch that ran west of the path for signs of others hidden there. It was clear.

Before he could be stopped, Ambrose Spike called out, “And what will it cost us, this magical entertainment?”

Slagar stopped the cloak revolving and spread his paws. “A crust from your grand table, maybe a drink of cool water and the safety of your Abbey walls so that my friends and I can sleep without fear through the night. Oh, do not worry, good creatures. We will sleep upon the grass out here if you fear us.”

Matthias the Warrior of Redwall stepped forward, rubbing his paw across the red pommel stone of the wondrous sword he carried sheathed at his side.

“We fear no creature. Redwall buried its foes many seasons back. Stay here a moment, I would talk with my friends.”