Matthias tossed the larch branch like a spear. It hit the bogland and disappeared like a stone in water.

“Well, whoever it was, there were two weasels who were so terrified that they ran the wrong way.”

“Yukk!” Cheek shuddered. “What a horrible way to die, swallowed up by a swamp.”

“Aye,” Basil Stag Hare nodded grimly. “Though ’twas all the villains deserved. Hmm, doesn’t help us much, though. If we’d got to those two stinkers first we might have found out exactly where they were heading for. Now the bally old trail’s completely cold.”

Matthias silenced his companions with a wave of his paw. “Ssshhh! Don’t say anything, just listen. What can you hear?”

Basil’s ears twitched this way then that. He faced south with his whiskers aquiver. “Battle, fighting, some sort of old ruckus goin’ on over that way, I think.”

The warrior mouse unloosed the great battle blade from its back sheath.

“Cheek, stay behind. Jess and Basil, come on, let’s take a look!”

*   *   *

Throughout the night Abbot Mordalfus had tossed and turned on his simple bed in the dormitories above Great Hall. Sleep had eluded the old mouse. With the arrival of dawn’s first light he rose and crept quietly between the sleeping ranks of woodlanders. Ambrose Spike snored gently, pausing to snuffle and mutter in his dreams as the Abbot stole past him and carefully lifted the door-latch.

The rising sun flooded through the high east windows, sending a cascade of golden light to wash the west side of Great Hall, turning the old red stone to a dusty rose pink. Mordalfus stood facing the wall, allowing the warmth to caress his back. Through half-closed sleep-weary eyes, he looked upon the figure of Martin the Warrior at the center of the huge tapestry, bold and fearless. Swaying slightly on his paws, the Abbot spoke quietly to Redwall’s first warrior.

“It’s not easy for the body to sleep when the mind is working all night. The hours pass like seasons. Tell me, my friend who never grows old, where are the answers to be found? It is a peaceful and glorious morning in the Summer of the Golden Plain. Who would think that evil is abroad on a day like this? Redwall is safe, yet it is in great danger if the future of its young ones is threatened. Help me to help Matthias. Which way will he go? What paths must he travel? Where is the hooded fox and his band bound for? I am the Abbot, but at heart I am only Brother Alf the pond-keeper. At times like this the burden of our Abbey and its creatures is too much for my old back to bear.”