Standing outside of the Abbey's gates, Salome gazed upon the great red sandstone fortress - it surpassed the hugest oaks in height, and was completely unrivalled in size.

"Look, Samuel," she whispered. "It's . . . it's like a palace."

As if reading her mind, Samuel gently flicked her ear. "Stop gawkin', Salome!" he chided. "This ain't no palace, an' it ain't no rompin' grounds. This is an Abbey - a missionary place, full o' woodlanders! Don't come in 'ere an' start actin' a fool, you 'ear me? Look, I think somebeast's comin' past th' gates."

It was the Skipper - for he had heard the slamming of Samuel's stick against the gate, and was now approaching, armed with a loaded sling, so that he could see what was causing the racket. Upon sighting the two ferrets, Skipper slowed his step, until he was moving at a more deliberate pace.

Drawing nearer, he removed his sling from his shoulder. His manner of addressing the newcomers was rather terse, to put it mildly.

"Well, ye didn't come lambastin' our gates like that with no cause. Where've you come from, young 'uns, and wot do you want here? I ain't never seen no vermin about this part of the Woods 'till today."

Samuel might have spoken with courtesy, but being referred to as a "young 'un" had set him to bristling. Even from the other side of the gate, he could see that the Skipper stood several heads taller than him, and his sling, well-loaded with stones, had not been forgotten. But Samuel drew himself upright, like a soldier standing before an officer, and matched Skipper Johndam's stare.

"Well, we were born in Mossflower, sure enough - though we don't particularly make ourselves th' business of all in th' Woods. We live private, see!"

Salome frowned. Born in Mossflower? What on earth was Samuel talking about? But Samuel shot her a look, warning her to keep her mouth shut, and she did so.

Salome saw that the Skipper's jaw tautened. The sling began to swing, to and fro, aided by the weight of the stones.

Salome fumbled about until her paw found Samuel's, and she clutched it tightly, inwardly praying that he wouldn't go for his dagger, which would be useless in this situation anyhow.

"Live private, eh? Then wot exactly is yore business 'ere at Redwall?"

"What in all of Mossflower is going on here? Skipper, who are these two creatures?"

A female mouse strode up from behind the Skipper. Seeing as she was far shorter than Skipper Johndam, and was standing, it could be said, in his shadow, Salome had to rise on tiptoe to get a good look at her.

The mouse was not stately (even by mouse standards), and was quite slender, garbed in a habit made of some soft, pale green fabric. She possessed a rigid, austere-looking face, and when she saw the newcomers, she pursed her lips. Salome felt certain that the mouse was not unused to wearing this unpleasant expression.

"I am Elinor, the Abbess of Redwall. Who are you two and why are you standing here, shouting back and forth with Skipper Johndam? "

Samuel gave Salome's ear another gentle flick, reminding her to stop gawking. (Samuel couldn't stand it when Salome gawked; he found it embarrassing, and the fact that they were in the presence of woodlanders made it even more intolerable.) Then, stepping forward, he made an attempt at a formal bow - and, despite her apprehension, it was difficult for Salome to suppress her laughter and keep a straight face.

"Good afternoon to you, Miz Elinor. I'm Samuel, an' there's my sister, Salome."

The Abbess stared at the young ferrets for one long moment. At length, she returned the bow.

"You must call me Mother Abbess, Master Samuel. Have you come to our Abbey seeking food, healing or shelter?"

Glancing down at himself, Samuel figured that he and Salome did look bedraggled and beggarly - haply it would have been better to allow Salome to wear the hand-me-down tunic after all; at least it was still in one piece.

"Aye, marm - I suppose you could say that."

The Abbess folded her paws in a no-nonsense manner. "You suppose that I could say that? Please, Master Samuel, tell me what you wish for, and speak directly!"

Samuel shrugged. "Only t' stay at th' Abbey, for a while at least."

Skipper Johndam began to toy with his sling again. "But you told me you an' yore sister 'live privately.' What made you leave yore place, then? "

Samuel looked straight at him and lied with a stoic face. "Th' storm wrecked our den yesterday. Never was a good one. Are we welcome 'ere, Mother Abbess marm?"

Abbess Elinor pursed her lips again. "Skipper, open the gates!"

Skipper J. obeyed. As the ferret siblings entered, he spied Samuel's dagger, peering out of his tunic pocket. His paw shot out and seized the blade.

Instinctively, Samuel flinched; Salome saw that his paws were clenched. Then, he seemed to remember that he was in the presence of a woodlander Abbess, and forced himself to remain calm.

"I'll keep this with me. The creatures in Redwall Abbey are peaceful; there's no need t' bring a weapon!"

But Abbess Elinor, after carefully scrutinizing the dagger, reversed the decision. "Return it to him, Skipper Johndam. There's very little that he could do with a dagger, if he wished to."

Samuel opened his mouth to thank her, but the Abbess plunged into a sermon about peace, kindness and not harming others. After fifteen minutes, Salome began to doze off a little, but Samuel kept her awake with sharp nudges and murderous looks.

At last, Abbess Elinor assumed, quite correctly, that the guests were hungry, and she directed them to where Friar Jerome and Marianne were supervising the Dibbuns, who were all clustered around a picnic blanket. Most of the little creatures had ceased their activities, and were now gawking - as Dibbuns will - at the newcomers.

"Seeing as the gluttonous, impatient creatures who are my Abbeybeasts began eating lunch before it could be announced, I fear there will be very little food left in Cavern Hole," the Abbess informed them coolly "But I'm certain that Friar Jerome will prepare something for you."

While the Friar was preparing to escort the ferrets to Cavern Hole,Marianne took charge of the staring Dibbuns up. "Come along, you lot - you've an extra half-hour to play outside, there's no need to waste it by bein' nosy!"

Because the Abbess was present, the Dibbuns had no choice but to obey, with great reluctance.

Salome and Samuel had never entered a room that was huger than this Cavern Hole - or any building, for that matter, including Chief's manse, back in the settlement. Mice in green habits, hedgehogs, a handful of moles and squirrels, a large number of otters (who occupied a special corner of Cavern Hole) - creatures crowded every one of those immense oaken tables, eating scones, cakes and pastries that looked as if they were fit for a ducal house.

Well, actually, it could hardly be described as eating. Most of the woodlanders were picking and prodding at the food on their plates, as if they dared not eat it. Every beast seemed to be hanging his or her head, staring at the floor. The Abbeydwellers were all silent, only speaking when a platter or a jug must be passed.

"Excuse me, miss; please pass the October Ale."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you."

There was no lively chatter. No jokes were exchanged, and nobeast was singing or humming.

One unfortunate hogmaid belched aloud. She cried, "Beg your pardon!" and glanced up, fearing that the Abbess would be standing in the doorway, armed with a sermon about table etiquettes. It was then that she - and all of the creatures in Cavern Hole - saw the two ferrets.

Spoons, forks and mugs were set aside, and, for several moments, the Abbeybeasts only stared, just as the Dibbuns had.

Abbess Elinor cast a look of withering scorn over her creatures.

"This is Samuel, and this is Salome; they will be spending a few days at the Abbey. It is high time that all of you returned to your daily tasks; you have eaten more than enough. Work will help you to shed the weight that your gluttony has, most likely, caused you to gain!"

Salome was beginning to understand why these Abbeybeasts seemed to have no appetite.

Before long, Cavern Hole was empty. Salome and Samuel seated themselves, and Friar Jerome heaped two plates with excellent food, which I will not describe for fear of annoying the Abbess.

Salome accepted her dish, and remembered to say "Thank you." Samuel accepted his, as well, though it was obvious that he had no desire to eat, despite the fact that his stomach had been empty for hours now.

"Wait a moment, missie!" the Abbess snapped, just as Salome picked up her fork. "You must say the grace before you begin eating."

Salome blinked, bemused. "Th' grace?"

Samuel closed his eyes, determined not to lose patience before the eyes of the woodlanders.

"Aye, th' grace, Salome - th' prayer you say before you eat. I taught you one. Do you remember it?"

Salome gave a self-acquitting shrug. "Oh, that. It was a pretty-soundin' piece, but 'ow was I t' know I should remember it? You taught it t' me seven seasons ago!"

Abbess Elinor's eyes widened, and Samuel cringed. Had it been that long ago?

"Seven seasons ago! What sort of upbringing have you received, missie? Do you know who God is?"

"'Course I know who God is!" Salome retorted, indignant. "I ain't so green."

The Abbess pursed her lips, for the third time since the ferrets' arrival. "No, missie, you are not green. The earth, which God spread out for you, is green. The trees in heaven, which awaits the good creatures, are green. That salad, which you are preparing to tear into, is green." Salome glanced down at her plate. "How could you neglect to thank Him before you begin to eat what He has provided for you?"

Salome shrugged again. "Always figured I was showin' 'ow thankful I was for th' food when I ate it all, Miz Elinor - I mean, Mother Abbess, marm."

Samuel slumped forward and rested his head on the edge of the table.

Abbess Elinor rose. "Eat quickly then. I must find Sister Jane, our Recorder. You are an ignorant, unfortunate young creature, and something must be done about this, immediately! Master Samuel, when you have finished, please assist Friar Jerome in the kitchens. A good Redwaller must always be of assistance to his fellow Abbeycreatures!"

With that, she marched out of Cavern Hole.

When the Abbess was gone, the Friar looked up from the dishes that he was gathering. He smiled at the guests.

"Learn yore prayers, mind yore manners an' eat little, an' you an' th' Abbess'll get along just fine. 'Ow old are you, Miz Salome?"

Salome polished off a wedge of nutbread. She hesitated at first, but, in the end, she returned the smile.

"About twelve seasons, Friar - or thirteen seasons at th'most."

Friar Jerome shook his head in disapproval. " 'About twelve seasons, Friar, or thirteen seasons at th'most'? Every young creature should know 'is or 'er age - there ain't no excuse for you! Me, I'm growin' so old an' fat there's no use tryin' t' keep track o' th' seasons! You - Master Samuel, stop slouchin' an' sit up straight. How old is yore sister?"

Samuel obeyed, smiling now, in spite of himself. "Salome's twelve seasons old now, sir; thirteen in autumn."

Friar Jerome came over to refill Salome's plate. "She eats like a creature o' thirteen seasons, t' be certain! My assistant, th' squirrelmaid Marianne, is around yore age, Miz Salome. Mayhap she'd like t' 'elp you with learnin' yore prayers. Can ye read an' write?"

Salome shrugged. "Can't read much, sir. I know all o' my letters, an' I can write my name an' Samuel's."

A flicker of sympathy crossed the hedgehog Friar's face, but he erased it quickly. He reached over and ruffled her ears. It was the first time that Salome had ever been touched by a creatue that resembled a ball of spikes; she had almost expected that he would prickle her. "Read, read an' read some more, missie - you'll be clever before ye know it!"

Salome made such a face that Friar Jerome broke into a smile. "Miz Marianne's just like you. A sharp little creature, but th' elders 'ad t' all but shackle her to an Abbeyschool bench t' get 'er t' learn basic readin', writin' an' figurin'. After that, she came t' th' kitchens to assist me. Ah, I s'pose young beasts are all alike, wherever ye find 'em!" He began to load the dishes into a trolley. "Don't toy with those vittles, Master Samuel. Finish 'eatin' an' come 'elp me in th' kitchen quarters."

Salome looked at Samuel. She could tell that he still wasn't overly eager to eat, and was even less enthusiastic about the chores. But he did as he was told.

Not long afterwards, Abbess Elinor returned, accompanied by Sister Jane, the Recorder and Librarian of Redwall.

Unlike the Abbess, Sister Jane was a tall female mouse, with clear, fawn-brown eyes. Salome gazed up into her face, and bashfulness overcame her. She was the most dignified-looking creature that Salome had ever seen - but then, considering that the only other "dignified personage" that she had ever seen(besides Abbess Elinor) was the Chief of her settlement, perhaps that was not saying much. But I digress.

Sister Jane seated herself. She dusted off an old tome that she had brought.

"The Abbess has told me that you know who God is, Salome. This is very good."

Salome shrugged. "Everybeast knows who God is. I mean, He's th' one wot put you on th' earth - an' yore mamma's th' one wot can take you out."

Amusement twinkled in the Sister's brown eyes, though Salome scarcely knew why. "You are right - God created every living thing. Where is God?"

Salome fidgeted in her seat.

"Well, I s'pose he's all th' way up there, watchin' over all of us, and writin' down who he's goin' t' send t' 'ellgates next.''

The Abbess stared severely across her spectacles. "'Tis only the bad creatures who go to Hellgates, young missy. If you behave yourself and follow the Abbey rules, perhaps you'll enter heaven. Do you understand?"

"Aye, Mother Abbess marm." Aye, heaven. Heaven was the nice place where you danced and sang and had all the cake and plum pudding you wished. You drank wine, as well, but this wine didn't make you drunk, because God didn't want you to be drunk.

In any case, with or without the cake and wine, heaven had to be far better than this Abbey, which was full of delicious food and drinks - and gloomy-faced, silent creatures who couldn't even enjoy it.

You only got into heaven if you were good.

Sister Jane opened the tome, slowly moving through the pages. 'Can you see God?"

Salome pondered for a bit.

"I s'pose I can't see him 'cos he's all th' way up there, but I allus fancied him as an old, wise sort of badger type with a long, grey beard . . ."

The Abbess closed her eyes and took a deep breath, though Salomescarcely understood why.

"Calm down, Mother Abbess." Sister Jane was a gentle creature, and she spoke placatingly. 'She's only a little maid. She doesn't know better.''

God, Salome soon learned, was no badger – or any type of creature. He was a – yoo-neek being. Salome had to ask Samuel about that "unique" word – she liked the sound of it. And it sounded pretty in Sister Jane's low, clear voice.

"And you know who the devil is, don't you?"

"I reckon that'd be Vulpuz, 'cos he's th' king o' Hellgates."

The Abbess repeated the deep-breathing exercise.

Sister Jane proceeded gently. "No, no, I mean the one who whispers to us and tells us to do bad things."

Salome toyed with her claws. "Well, I don't s'pose I'd know who that 'un is, only if I did, I'd give him th' ode of his life for th' trouble he's allus gettin' me into."

"We cannot blame our actions on the devil, Salome. He only tells us to do things – he doesn't force us to do them. If I told you to go and rob an old mousewife walking alone along the road, would you?"

She continued fiddling with her claws. "Well . . . mayhap not, if'n you just told me to like that. 'Twouldn't look right t' me. But if'n you came up close an' whispered, 'Lookit that old widow, piddlin' along th' road like that! An' all alone, too! She mustn't care much for her money. Lookit that pretty purse! a right fat one – full o' coins. That 'un's a richbeast! All you've got t' do is rush her, snatch it and run. There ain't any guards about t' stop you, and she oughter know better'n t' walk by herself on an unguarded street. Think of all th' mess you could buy!' – if it were like that, marm –if it were like that . . . I reckon I'd have a right 'ard time refusin'.''

At last, the Abbess rose from her seat. "I cannot tolerate this impudence any longer!"