Before they could reply he had melted into the undergrowth ahead of them. Samkim and Arula squatted beneath the sheltering boughs of the oak and set out a simple supper of oatcake and apple, uncorking a small flask of elderberry wine for their absent friend.

*   *   *

They had long eaten supper and were dozing on the soft moss at the base of the oak when a snap of wood caused them to come alert. Spriggat stood beside them with both halves of the dead twig in his paws.

“Hohohoh, a lesson learned is a lesson remembered, I ’opes. Never both go asleep together, always ’ave one on guard an’ t’other sleepin’—that way yew tew will never be sneaked up on, like I just did. What’s this? Mmm, tastes good!”

Samkim refused the proffered flask, letting the hedgehog drink as much as he liked. “It’s elderberry wine, Mr. Spriggat, made at Redwall Abbey. Keep the flask and drink it all. What did you find out there?”

Spriggat caught a droning gnat neatly with a flick of his head. He chewed it reflectively. “Gnats ain’t nearly good as wasps ’n’ bees—too acid-tastin’. Now, where were I? Oh aye, what did I find? Well, I’ll tell yew tew, that were a strange scent I caught on the breeze a while back. ’Twas death! Aye, death an’ other things . . . the whiff of rats—can’t mistake that stench—fox, too, though I can’t be certain o’ that . . .”

Arula rocked back and forth impatiently. “Burrhoo, Maister Spriggat, wot did ’ee find out’n thurr?”

“No sight fer yew tew t’be lookin’ upon, young uns.” Spriggat took a sip of wine and smacked his lips appreciatively. “It were the stoat, but his ’ead was chopped clear off! Most likely done wi’ that sword you’re a-seekin’.”

Samkim was shocked that the sword of Martin the Warrior should have been put to such base use as murder. “Nobeast could use Martin’s blade so foully. It’s dreadful! The sword of our Abbey Warrior was only ever lifted to defend the right and good in fair combat. How could anybeast treat it in such a wicked way?”

The old hedgehog shook his head at the young squirrel’s innocence. “Ye’ve a lot to learn, laddie. There’s no magic in any weapon. That sword may be used for good or evil; it all depends on the creature who wields it. C’mon now, sleep. We’ve got a full day ahead tomorrow. Rats ’n’ foxes ain’t as careless about their tracks as that pore silly stoat were.”

*   *   *

That night Samkim’s head was full of dreams. Martin the Warrior appeared, and there was the rolling hiss of great waters. Shadowy figures fought battles across the paths of his mind, great lumbering mist-shrouded creatures . . . badgers! The voice of the Warrior echoed all around: