“You’re right, Jabez. The good thing about it is it looks as if there’s only one way in or out. We’ll get as close as we can, then rush it. Be careful how you strike in there, we don’t want to injure any young ones. Cheek, you could come in useful there. Do you think you could get the captives out of the cave, away from the battle?”

The otter withdrew his tail from Jess’s paw and gave a salute. “Of course, I promise you they’ll be safe, Matthias.”

Basil nudged Orlando. “Very good, top-hole, wot? Our Cheek shaped up like a proper warrior to that. I knew in me heart there was somethin’ good about that young rip. I was right, give him somethin’ positive t’do an’ he turns up trumps. Mentioned in dispatches, Cheek, m’laddo!”

Orlando turned to Matthias, his eyes beginning to glint red. “The masked fox is mine, warrior.”

“Only if you find him first, friend.”

“Agreed. What are we waiting for?”

“Not a thing. Let’s go!”

The great sword of Redwall and the battleaxe of the Western Plain swung aloft like twin cold fires in the moongleam.

“Redwaaaaaalllll!”

“Eulaliaaaaa!”

“Mossflowerrrrrr, give ’em blood’n’vinegar!”

Three things happened at once.

The searchers’ war party thundered into the cave, swinging and yelling.

Seven fugitive heads popped up out of the water at the sounds of their parents and friends.

Three pairs of enemy paws heaved the poles upwards, sending a landslide of earth, rock, scree and soil hurtling downwards over the mouth of the cave.

21

Beeswax candles glimmered late in Cavern Hole.

Cornflower, Winifred, Foremole and baby Rollo sat at table with the Abbot and Constance. The slim stone tablet lay on a folded towel to prevent any damage.

Over a supper of mushroom soup, apple and celery slice, hazelnut bread and hotspice herb beverage, Cornflower had related the strange tale, not forgetting the part baby Rollo had played.

Abbot Mordalfus shook his head in wonderment. “Marvelous! You found the tomb of our Founder, Abbess Germaine, thanks to baby Rollo. Sometimes the gift of an inquisitive nature to the young can be greater than that of the wisdom which comes of age. I trust you put the stone back when you left.”

Foremole tugged his snout respectfully. “Hurr, ’deed oi did zurr, she’m all shut in again naow.”

“Pity, I’d have loved to see it, just once,” Mordalfus sighed.

Constance indicated the tablet with an impatient paw. “Please, can we get on with this? What does the writing say on the stone?”

Winifred threw up her paws in despair. “It says nothing, blow me sails! There’s only a lot of funny scratches on it.”

The Abbot studied the strange marks, focusing through the small square spectacles perched on the end of his nose. “Wonderful! Amazing! A perfect example of ancient Loamscript.”