Droony the infant mole woke up and began crying. “Whurr be moi ol’ nuncle Burrley? Burrhurrhurrhurr.”

Thrugann hurried to comfort the little fellow, drying his tears and reassuring him. “There there. Hushabye, mole. Nuncle Burrley’s gone away, but you’ll see him agin some sunny season.”

Abbess Vale swayed slightly, clasped a paw to her face and fell with a bump to the gallery floor. Faith Spinney had just arrived with a jug of soup and some bowls. She set the tray down and hurried across to help her old friend. The Abbess lay senseless.

“Oh, mercy sakes, somebeast ’elp ’er, please!” Faith looked around wildly.

Thrugann swept the frail form up in her strong paws. “Lan’ sakes, I knowed this’d ’appen. She’s been runnin’ about ’ere takin’ care of everybeast except ’erself. Furgle, it looks like one o’ those faints to me. What d’you think?”

The Hermit needed only one glance to confirm his worst fears. “Lackaday! This is the worst thing that could happen right now.”

Thrugann looked around gnawing her lip worriedly. “There’s not an empty bed in the whole place for ’er.”

“Oh yes there is.” Faith Spinney dropped her voice to a whisper. “Burrley’s bed is still empty in the dormitory. We’d best take pore Vale down there.”

*   *   *

The dormitory was silent. Hastily Thrugann laid Abbess Vale on the bed and dashed around checking on the patients. They had all gone into a deep faint, with the exception of Blossom the mousemaid, who was feebly shaking her comatose sister, Turzel, and weeping softly.

“Wake up, Turzel. Please, please wake up.”

There was a pawstep on the stairs. Thrugann and Faith turned to see Furgle standing in the doorway.

“Er, er, the medicine has just run out and er, er. . . .” The Hermit stood fidgeting with an empty medicine bowl in the doorway until Faith Spinney snatched it impatiently from him.

“Goodness me, Mister Furgle, stop stammerin’ about. Is there somethin’ you’ve got to tell us?”

He sighed and sat down on the floor. “There’ll be another empty bed in the upper gallery. We’ve just lost Bremmun!”

Thrugann shook her head. “But that ain’t possible. I was only talkin’ to Bremmun a moment ago. Oh, tell me ’e ain’t dead, Furgle!” The Hermit shook his head. “I wish I could, marm. I was wiping his brow when he looked me in the eye and said he was tired, then he just turned on his back and closed his eyes and died.”

Faith Spinney sat down on the floor, her face pale and shocked. “Oh dearie me, that means there’s only we three an’ my Tudd down in the cellars who ain’t down with Dryditch Fever. We’re all that’s left standin’ on our paws in Redwall Abbey!”

Thrugann mopped sweat from her brow and sat down on the bed where Abbess Vale lay.