Vitch laughed nastily and raised the whipping cane slowly. “Come on, spoilt baby, little Abbey pet, what are you going to do now, eh?”

Again and again the cane rose and fell, striking the young prisoner indiscriminately. In his excitement Vitch was jumping about as he wielded the thin willow.

“Haha, there’s no silly badger to stop me now, is there? I won’t have to scrub floors and clean saucepans now. Take that and that and th—”

He danced in too close. Under the stinging rain of blows, Mattimeo saw Vitch’s paw step within his reach. Crossing both paws tightly, the young mouse tugged hard, bringing the little rat crashing down. Mattimeo bit, butted and belabored away at his tormentor with the slack of the chain.

“Help, help! Murder! He’s killing me!” Vitch screamed in panic.

Threeclaws the weasel hauled them roughly apart. He kicked Mattimeo down and flung Vitch against the far wall.

“Hell’s teeth! Stop screeechin’ and shoutin’, will you? What’s going on here?”

Vitch was quivering with indignation. “You stop shoving me about, Threeclaws. Slagar said I could take my revenge on that one when we had him chained up.”

The weasel looked at him disgustedly. “Huh, you weren’t makin’ a very good job of it, were you? From what I saw, this mouse was givin’ you a good hidin’.”

Vitch dashed forward swinging the cane. “I’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget this time!”

Threeclaws caught the cane and pulled it from Vitch’s grasp, then grabbed the struggling rat firmly by the neckfur.

“No you won’t, snotnose. I’m in charge while Slagar’s not here. There’s to be no noise, see. We don’t want any creature who’s out searching to hear anything. Now you just behave yourself, or I’ll lay this cane across your back, rat.”

Vitch slumped against the windowsill, snivelling, but he obeyed the weasel’s order.

*   *   *

Mattimeo looked about. There were others chained up around the walls: mice, squirrels, hedgehogs, all of them young creatures. He saw Tim and Tess and Sam Squirrel chained against the far wall. Fetters clanking, he waved to them.

“Sam, Tim, Tess, how did we get here?” he asked.

“Silence there!”

Halftail the stoat shouted, and pointed a dagger warningly at Mattimeo. “Shuttup, mouse. You’ve been told once. Save your breath, you’re going to need it for marching.”

When Halftail moved out of earshot, a young badger chained next to Mattimeo whispered, “That’s Halftail. Watch him, he’s a cruel one. My name is Auma from the west plains. What’s yours?”

“Mattimeo, son of Matthias the Redwall Warrior.”

“Oh, so you’re the one that Slagar was after.”

“Slagar?”

“Yes, the Sly One, the hooded fox,” Auma explained. “This lot are a band of slave traders. Though where they’re taking us I don’t know.”