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Chapters (64)
  1. CAPTURED!
  2. Other Books
  3. Title Page
  4. Map
  5. Introduction
  6. BOOK ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. BOOK TWO
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. BOOK THREE
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. What’s next onyour reading list?

Slagar the Cruel picked up the willow cane, the hood coming tight about his jaws with a sharp intake of breath. “You forget yourself, stoat. I don’t have to try hauling carts, I’m the boss around here. When I looked up that path a short time ago, I saw you coming up the center of the road as if you hadn’t a care in the world, bold as brass in broad daylight. Do you realize that a sentry could have seen your dust from the top of Redwall Abbey?”

Halftail failed to recognize the danger signals. “Yah, what’s the difference,” he shrugged. “They never saw anything.”

Slagar swung the cane furiously and Halftail screamed in agony. He huddled down against the side of the cart, unable to avoid the rain of stinging cuts showering on his head, shoulders and back.

“I’ll tell you the difference, slimebrain. The difference is that you don’t talk back to me. I’m the leader. You’ll learn that or I’ll flay your hide to dollrags!” Slagar’s voice grated harshly with each slash of the whipping willow.

“Whaaah mercy, ooh owow! Please stop! No more, Chief!”

Slagar snapped the cane and threw it scornfully at the stoat’s heavily welted head.

“Ha, your hearing seems a little better now. Cut yourself another switch. That one’s worn out.”

The masked fox whirled upon his band of slavers. They sat in cowed silence. The silken hood stretched around his face as he leaned forward.

“That goes for all of you. If anyone ruins my plan, that creature will wish he’d taken his life swiftly with his own paw, by the time I’m through with him. Understand?”

There was a murmured growl of assent.

Slagar climbed up into a ruined window frame. He sat gazing in the direction of Redwall Abbey.

“Scringe, bring me some decent food and a flask of wine from the cart,” he commanded.

The servile ferret ran to obey his master.

“Threeclaws, station yourself outside at twilight. Keep an eye peeled for Vitch coming back.”

The weasel saluted. “Righto, Chief.”

*   *   *

The afternoon wore on, peaceful and golden. Now and then a small dust devil swirled on the path with the summer heat.

Slagar ran a paw tenderly over the silk harlequin-patterned hood, smiling beneath it as a plan of revenge against Redwall revolved slowly in his twisted mind.

Vengeance had kept him going for a long time now. Sometimes he actually savoured the burning lances of pain that coursed through his face, knowing the day was approaching when he would pay back those he considered responsible for his injuries.

A beetle trundled out of the pitted, rotten woodwork of the window frame. Slagar the Cruel pierced it neatly with a single claw, watching the insect writhe in its death throes. “Redwall, heeheeheehee!” The fox’s laughter sent shudders through every creature present.

3

“Mattimeo, Mattimeo!”