Cornflower had joined up with baby Rollo and Mrs. Churchmouse. Winifred, Brother Sedge and Ambrose Spike sat together. In various corners of the room small groups kept hard at it, trying to solve the mystery of the twelve letters. Every once in a while some creature would approach the Abbot with a possible solution. Mordalfus in his position as judge looked each one over with a discerning eye. “Hmm, Baby power to be. Sorry, Sister May. As you see, there’s only two letter Bs in the puzzle and you’ve used three. Next. Ah, Winifred, let’s see your entry. Coop Water Byb? What in the name of acorns is that supposed to mean? No, I can’t accept that one. Ah, John, well now we’ll see who has won my beautiful cake.”

John Churchmouse peered expectantly over the top of his glasses as the Abbot read out his solution.

“Cot Abbey prow. Strange words, John. Have you any reason for your answer?”

John polished his glasses, looking slightly sheepish. “Not really, Abbot. I tried several combinations, but this looked the most likely.”

Mordalfus put John’s entry to one side. “Well, who knows? We’ll keep it as a possibility. Thank you, John.”

“Thank you, Abbot. Er, have you tried to solve it yet?”

“No, I think it only fair that I stay as judge. However, if it isn’t solved tonight then you can be judge tomorrow and I’ll have a try then.”

“We gorrit! We gorrit!” Baby Rollo ran forward, waving a parchment. He stumbled, fell, scrambled up and placed the crumpled entry in the Abbot’s lap.

The kindly old mouse’s eyes twinkled as he lifted Rollo onto the arm of his chair. “You’re a clever fellow, Rollo. Did you solve this all by yourself?”

Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse winked at the Abbot. “Of course he did. We couldn’t have done without him.”

Mordalfus nodded wisely. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got. Abbey top crow. Ha, now this really looks like something we can investigate. Abbey top crow, eh? Good. Well done, baby Rollo, not to mention your two helpers, of course. I think the cake goes to the three of you.”

Cornflower, Mrs. Churchmouse and Rollo went into whispered conference, finally emerging with the decision that everyone be given a small slice, much to the delight of all.

*   *   *

After tea, the Abbey dwellers gathered on the sward in front of Redwall. Shading their eyes, they gazed up to the high roof. Queen Warbeak and her Sparra warriors were circling the spires, turrets and crenellations at the Abbot’s request. There was not long to wait. Shortly Warbeak came zooming down at great speed and perched on a windowsill to make her report.

“Round top of roof, fourbirds, fourbirds,” she told them.

The Abbot could hardly suppress his excitement. “What sort of birds? How high? Where?”