Mordalfus groaned slightly as he sat down upon the floor, an ancient mouse in his nightshirt. The rays of the warm sun caused his eyes to droop lower as he strove to concentrate upon the picture of Martin the Warrior. Gradually the likeness began to waver and sway in front of Mordalfus. Was it Martin he was gazing at? Or was it Matthias? Though it looked a lot like young Mattimeo. Strange, the tricks that two tired old eyes can play on their owner. His head drooped lower. Now he had no need to look up at the tapestry, for Martin was right in front of him. From far away, as though it were through the mists of summers long dead and gone, the Warrior’s voice came softly across the roof of time:

“Seek the Founder in the stones where the little folk go.”

*   *   *

“Father Abbot, I’m surprised at you, sleepwalkin’ in your nightshirt!”

“Eh, what, who?” Mordalfus came awake to find Constance the badger shaking him.

“Better not let Sister May catch you dressed like that, or she’ll dose you with herbs against the cold. Come on, old feller, up on your paws now.”

The Abbot rubbed his eyes with shaky paws as he allowed Constance to stand him upright. “Constance, oh, it’s you! Ooh, I’m stiff. Couldn’t sleep a wink all night, so I wandered down here at dawn to have a word with Martin.”

The badger chuckled as she escorted the Abbot to breakfast at Cavern Hole. “Yes, I often have a word or two with our Warrior myself, though he never says anything to me. Still, it’s a comfort sometimes to think that he’s probably listening.”

The Abbot halted. After cleaning his tiny spectacles on his sleeve he donned them, looking over the tops at the badger.

“Ah, but he spoke to me, just before you woke me.”

Constance felt a cold prickle along the back of her neckfur. “Indeed, and what did he have to say to you?”

“Seek the Founder in the stones where the little folk go.”

“Was that all?”

“Every single word.”

“I wonder what Martin meant by that,” Constance mused.

“So do I, friend. Let’s have breakfast and think about it.”

*   *   *

Ambrose Spike and Brother Rufus had prepared the breakfast. The Abbot and Constance took their place at the large table with other Redwallers. Gossip flowed freely as bowls were passed to and fro, butter, oatcakes, fresh fruit, cinnamon toast, honey and pitchers of fresh cold milk. In the bell tower, baby Rollo and John Churchmouse had begun tolling the twin bells. Cornflower passed toast to Mrs. Churchmouse.

“Your John is a far better teacher than you or I. Listen, baby Rollo’s actually pealing in time with him,” she remarked.