“A Captain, you say. Where at?”

The vixen winked. “Tell you some other time. Are we nearly there?”

“See that big oak?” Patchcoat asked, pointing. “It’s got a hidden door between the main roots. Follow me.”

At the sound of knocking, Bella opened the door of Brockhall the merest crack. Skipper and Amber craned their necks to see the visitors as the badger called out gruffly, “Who are you? What do you want?”

Fortunata made a fawning bow. “My name is Besomtail. This is my assistant, Patchcoat. Are there any among you who require the services of a healer?”

Lady Amber showed her teeth. “We don’t need your mumbo-jumbo, fox. Now clear off, quick!”

“Oh, please have pity on us,” Mask whined pitifully. “We’ve fallen upon hard times. Foxes are always driven off, even when they have traveled far, seeking honest work. We do not mean harm to any creature. We are starving.”

Skipper winked at the badger. “Oh, let em in, Miz Bella. Surely we can manage a bite and a sup for these two cruising fleabags?”

Bella opened the door wide. “Come in, foxes. But mind you behave, otherwise you may find yourselves hanging by the tails from a high branch.”

Once inside, Fortunata’s eyes roved ceaselessly, noting every detail of her surroundings. Abbess Germaine entered the room, accompanied by two small hedgehogs dressed in blanket cloaks and cooking-pot helmets.

“Ferdy, Coggs, take these two travelers to the kitchen,” she ordered them. “Ask Goody to feed them, please.”

Goody Stickle fed the unsavory duo some leftover spring vegetable soup with bread and cheese. They ate ravenously.

“Dearie me, it looks like you two ain’t eaten since last harvest,” Goody remarked. “I’ll cut more bread ’n’ cheese, then you can earn your keep by scouring some pots and pans before you eat us out of house and home altogether. That’ll save my old paws a job.”

Reluctantly the foxes finished their meal. Afterwards they faced the formidable stack of dirty kitchenware heaped in bowls of water.

The vixen curled her lip in disgust. “You wash and I’ll wipe.”

Mask shook his head. “Oh no. A healer needs clean paws. You wash, and I’ll do the wiping.”

As they worked, Mask whispered to Fortunata, “What d’you make of this place, Besomtail?”

“Well, they’ve certainly got a comfy den here,” she replied. “Well-stocked, too. But hark, Patchcoat, they’re soft and innocent as new bread. Look how easily we got in here.”

Mask tapped his nose knowingly. “A right bunch of woodland bumpkins, eh? One good squad of soldiers could tie their whiskers in knots.”

Fortunata passed a large pan to be wiped. “How would you like to be in charge of that squad, Patchcoat?”

“Would this have anything to do with that Captain’s job you mentioned earlier?” Mask whispered out the side of his mouth.

Fortunata wiped her paws on a towel. “Aye, it would. I’ve been watching you, Patchcoat. You’re a fox after my own heart. Now listen carefully and stick by me. We can both come out of this as two rich and powerful foxes if we play both ends against the middle.”