THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Thirty-Five

As dawn broke over Redwall, the foxes came down from their long night of sentry duty. A fresh crew of otters and squirrels took their place, posting lookouts at all four corners of the walltop.

Two of the brushtailed swordbeasts were seen to go out the south wallgate and pay a brief visit to the banished vermin in the forest. They quickly returned, and joined their fellows for a bite of breakfast in Great Hall. Then it was up to their rooms, for the first real sleep many of them would have in two days.

The one named Tolar sought out Machus in the Infirmary, where the fox captain had spent the night with most of the Abbey leaders in the vigil over Cyrus. Tolar took Machus and Lady Mina aside and spoke a few low words with them that nobeast else could hear, then withdrew from the room. Machus returned to Cyrus's bedside.

As they watched, the rising sun cleared the east wall. Golden rays spilled through the window above the bed, and the whole area seemed suddenly aglow with life and hope. If there had been any doubt that Cyrus could survive his ordeal, the morning light was determined to chase such doubts away. His color had returned almost to normal, his heart was beating slow and strong, and his breathing was deep and full. He looked like a mousechild merely asleep in a comfortable slumber, not one who had been nearly mortally wounded the previous afternoon.

Sister Aurelia felt Cyrus's brow. "His temperature seems fine. By my word, if I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I'd never have believed it. Machus, you truly are a miracle worker."

"Thank you, Sister. I did the best I could ... with a little help from this stouthearted lad right here." Machus ruffled the fur between Cyril's ears. The young mouse was still somewhat weak from giving blood the day before, and nibbled a scone as he sat attentively at his brother's side.

"Mr. Machus, sir, do you think he'll wake up soon?"

"Probably not for a day or two ... althought, he's made such good progress so far in such an unexpectedly short time, I wouldn't put it past Cyrus to be awake before sundown. He's young and strong, and that may have made the difference in his survival."

"Even though he's looking well," Sister Aurelia reminded Cyril, "he's not out of danger yet. His recovery will take a long time. I don't expect him to be fully up and about again until almost summer's end, even under the best of circumstances."

"Yes," said Abbess Vanessa from the foot of the bed, "but now there is great hope, whereas before there was little." She turned to the healer who'd wrought this wonder. "Machus, may I please have a word? Over here, away from the bed. As a matter of fact, I think we should all stop crowding Cyrus so much. He needs fresh air, and he won't get any with half of Redwall standing over him."

Obediently, most of the vigil-keepers backed away, and a few trickled out of the Infirmary altogether, going down to Great Hall for breakfast. Only Sister Aurelia and Cyrus stayed at the bedside to watch over Cyrus.

Vanessa and Arlyn took Machus aside in the far corner of the room. "Things seem to be turning out well, as far as Cyrus's recovery goes," the Abbess said. "But now, I would like to speak with the two beasts who were responsible for this. There are some things I would say to them. Please have them summoned up here, starting with that rat who put Cyrus before the sword."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Abbess."

The two mice looked askance at Machus. Alexander and Lady Mina drifted over to join the conversation. "And why is that?" Vanessa demanded.

"It appears that Wolfrum ran off during the night. He is no longer among the troops outside."

"Ran off?" Arlyn said skeptically. "I had heard that you put quite a hole in his foot yesterday. I'd be very surprised if he did any running anywhere."

"Well, we'll just have to bring him back." Vanessa turned to the two squirrels. "Alex, organize a patrol - "

Machus interrupted, his paw raised. "Abbess, I fear that might only be a waste of time."

A suspicion was growing inside Vanessa. "Oh? Do explain."

"He may very well be dead. If his fellow soldiers saw fit to punish him in their own way, it would not be the first time such a thing has happened."

"And if that is the case, then what are you going to do about it?"

"Do? Nothing at all. If that scoundrel rests this morning in some hidden grave deep within Mossflower, then the entire incident is settled to my satisfaction."

"And I don't suppose this might have anything to do with the fox of yours who reported to you just now, or the ones who have been seen going in and out the Abbey last night and this morning?"

Lady Mina stepped in. "This is a Northlands matter, Abbess, and it has been handled in the Northlands manner. Let us waste no more time on it."

"A Northlands matter? Need I remind you of what took place on the lawns of Redwall less than a day ago? Look at Cyrus, lying there. This is a Redwall matter if ever there was one, and you should not have taken this into your own paws!"

"The misconduct of my own troops is my responsibility," Machus said stubbornly. "I must discipline them as I see fit."

Vanessa looked severely from Machus to Mina and back again. "One would almost get the idea that the two of you are accustomed to such things!"

"Lord Urthblood did not tame so many vermin with gentle words," Mina said matter-of-factly. "I have bloodied my own paws more than once, cleaning up such distasteful messes as this, and so has Machus. Sometimes justice meted out within the ranks is more effective than that imposed from above. We've learned to turn a blind eye when they settle matters of discipline on their own. For my own part, I will say only that if Wolfrum still lives, I fully intend to put a shaft through his skull if ever I see him again."

Vanessa defiantly folded her paws over her chest. "Not in this Abbey, you won't."

"He would not make it that far, Abbess."

Vanessa gritted her teeth and turned away. Clearly, there would be no arguing with the grimly determined squirrel Lady. To Machus she said, "And what of the weasel who wielded the weapon? I suppose he has also 'run off' in the night?"

"Oh, no. I know right where he is. I put him in the cell with the hare, Hanchett. Of course, hares and weasels are natural enemies, and I doubt Smallert could hold his own against any fighter of the Long Patrols. There is a very good chance he did not survive the night."

"Well. Well. I see that when you said you would take care of disciplining the creatures responsible for harming Cyrus, you had your own ideas in mind. If we were not so indebted to you for bringing Cyrus back from the brink of death, I might have some severe reprimands for you. I suppose somebeast should go down to the tunnels and see whether that weasel is still alive."

"I suppose so," Machus echoed. "If he is, I will gladly turn him over to you if you wish, so that you may punish him according to your own law. Out of curiosity, Abbess, what is the Redwall penalty for a crime such as his?"

"Um, he would be ... " Vanessa let her words trail off as it dawned on her what the fox was getting at. "If he were a Redwaller, he would be declared Outcast, forbidden from ever entering this Abbey again. And in this case, that would put him outside with the bloodthirsty cutthroats who may have already killed that rat. I guess his prospects don't look too bright either way."

"Not to mention that he slew one of his fellow soldiers," Machus reminded her. "He will still have to answer for that, even if Cyrus turns out to be all right. So, Abbess, I think you see that it's probably best if you leave it to me to take care of this. I don't wish to see further blood shed in Redwall any more than you do, so I will conduct any additional punishments outside your walls. Unless you wish to take Smallert into your own custody, his fate is sealed. I will happily surrender him to you if that if your wish, although frankly I can't imagine what you would do with him."

"First thing is to see whether he's still alive," said Vanessa. "If he is, I would still have a word with him. And since as Abbess I have been somewhat remiss in looking in on our guest from Salamandastron, I shall go down to their common cell right now. Then, we shall see what there is to be seen."

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Vanessa wrinkled her nose distastefully as she stepped into the dim cell.

Hanchett and Smallert sat on opposite sides of the cellar room, returning her gaze. "Well, at least you're both still alive," she said, mostly to herself.

Machus was at her shoulder. "Take care, Abbess. This hare will be keen to escape, and he might try anything."

"'Fraid you've mistaken me for one o' your own blightin' kind," Hanchett said to the swordfox. "No hare of the Long Patrol would endanger a blameless goodbeast. Good mornin', Abbess."

Machus studied Smallert, then said to Hanchett, "I see you've freed my weasel's paws, after binding them last evening. What made you do that?"

"Nothin' made me, chap," Hanchett replied. "We got t' talkin', an' he turned out t' be a more decent vermin than I expected. The belt was hurtin' him, so I took it off."

"I must say I'm surprised. And rather disappointed. I didn't put him in with you so he could be comfortable."

"Ho, yes, all the bally comforts of home!" Hanchett sarcastically waved his paw to indicate the barren cell, with its dank walls and bare stone floor. Then his tone grew colder. "We both know why you put this poor sod in with me, an' wot you were countin' on me doin' to 'im. An' I couldn't be happier that you're disappointed. But I don't do foxes' dirty work."

Machus sent Smallert a baleful glare that made the weasel shrink down where he sat. "I would call it justice, myself."

"Not my justice to give. Bloody your own paws, redfur." Hanchett turned to Vanessa. "I'm sure you had no part in this, Abbess ma'am. You must've had your own paws full carin' for that mousechild who got sliced by this irresponsible longneck. How's the lad doin', if I may ask?"

"It looks as if he will probably be all right, although it was a pretty near thing." Vanessa once more paused to take in the unappealing cell. "Machus, it has been three days since Lord Urthblood left. I want this hare released from this chamber. We can put him in one of the dormitory rooms up on the third floor, where your foxes can guard him."

"Abbess, I cannot agree to that."

"Oh ho!" Hanchett roared. "A fox, tellin' the bally Abbess of Redwall wot to do in her own Abbey. If that's not a sight!"

"Mr. Hare, please contain yourself," Vanessa requested.

Hanchett obediently shut up.

Vanessa turned back to Machus. "Lord Urthblood asked us to keep Hanchett at Redwall for ten days after he departed. I will do my best to honor that request, but not like this. If the choice is between keeping Hanchett locked in this cell or risking his escape from a less secure part of the Abbey, then I will chance his escape. But I will not demean this good creature for one day more by confining him under such conditions as these."

She came further into the chamber, all the way over to Hanchett's feet. Machus was quick to stay at her side, paw on his sword hilt. To the hare she said, "I asked you once before, and now I will ask again: will you swear upon your word that you will not take advantage of our kindness if we release you to another part of the Abbey? That you will not attempt any escape from Redwall?"

Hanchett smiled forlornly and shook his head. "My answer's the same as before, an' I won't make a promise I mean to break. Not to you, Abbess. If it were just this brushtail an' his gang, I'd tell 'em the bally moon's made o' green cheese if it would gain my freedom. Guess I'll just hafta serve out the next seven days down here, with a killer weasel fer company."

"You see?" Machus said to Vanessa. "By his own admission, we would not be able to trust him."

Vanessa remained resolute. "Then you'll just have to figure out some other way to safeguard his captivity within the Abbey, Machus, because I am ordering Hanchett released from this cell forthwith."

She and Hanchett both looked toward the fox captain to see what his reaction would be. Machus chewed at his lip in concentration for several moments, then said, "Very well. But I would ask, Abbess, that you give me until noontide to make other arrangements for this hare's safekeeping. He should be able to join us for lunch up on the lawns, but until then he must remain here. Is that satisfactory?"

"You have until noon," Vanessa nodded. "If you haven't worked out something by then, I'm sending Monty down here anyway to release Hanchett. So I suggest you get right on it."

"Yes, Abbess."

Hanchett stuck out a paw toward Vanessa, although he did not rise from where he sat; he didn't want to make any move that Machus could use as an excuse for striking him down. "Thank you, ma'am. Your decency is appreciated." And the two of them shook paws warmly.

"You're welcome. I'll see you at lunch, if not before then." She turned from Hanchett and walked over to the other side of the cell. Machus followed, trusting the shrews in the corridor beyond to keep Hanchett honest while his back was to the hare.

Vanessa regarded Smallert. The weasel stared up uncomfortably at her and Machus. "As for you," she said, "I'm not in any great hurry to see you liberated from this prison. You have spilled blood within our home, and nearly taken the life of one dear to us. What have you to say for yourself?"

Smallert swallowed nervously. "Uh, I'm terribly ashamed of meself, ma'am. Never meant it to happen, but ... well, I'd give my own life in a moment, if it could undo what I done. I, uh, heard you say the lad's gonna be awright, prob'ly. Is that true?"

"It is, thanks mostly to Machus and his healing skills. But the child is not out of danger completely, and his recovery promises to be a long and difficult one. And he will probably carry fear and distrust of vermin with him throughout the rest of his life. I know you don't like to be thought of that way, but that is how he will see your kind: as vermin. All because of what you did here. It certainly doesn't further Lord Urthblood's cause of getting all creatures to live in peace together."

At the mention of the badger warrior, Smallert went pale and rigid. His gaze went from Vanessa to Machus. "Please, sir, don't tell Lord Urthblood 'ow I acted here. I don't wanna die a dishonored beast. Kill me, but don't let my disgrace outlive me. That's my dyin' request. Please, sir, say you'll do this fer me, once you've done with me what you gotta do."

"It's probably more than you deserve, but I'll consider it."

"I don't want any creature put to death inside this Abbey," Vanessa told Machus. "If that is the penalty you deem you must deal this weasel, then I want it done outside our walls. It is not our way to take the life of any beast, except in the direct defense of this Abbey. Even if Cyrus had died, I would be loathe to have his attacker slain when he sits helpless in our power. And Smallert has shown remorse over his actions. Were it not for the rat he slew, I would urge you to let him live."

"We are not Redwallers," said Machus. "The mercy you would show Smallert is a luxury no army can afford. I will of course honor your wishes. No execution will take place within Redwall or on its grounds."

Vanessa looked down at Smallert again. The weasel seemed utterly resigned to his fate, yet he was more worried over what Urthblood would think of his crime than he was about his own death. It was clear testament to the Badger Lord's training of his soldiers, and the influence he held over them even from a distance.

"Machus, before you do anything to this beast, I would like him brought up to the Infirmary, so that he may visit Cyrus and those who have been most saddened by this incident. That can be part of his punishment, but it might also lighten his heart to see for himself that Cyrus will be all right."

"It will be done, Abbess." Machus gazed thoughtfully at Smallert. "Don't worry - I have an idea that will let this weasel see several more days before he leaves this life. There will be plenty of time to do what you ask."

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"Droge, why are you crying?"

The hedgehog child looked up at Maura through teary eyes. She'd brought him and the other children out here to the orchard after paying a sunrise visit to the Infirmary to see how Cyrus was doing. This sunny-shady spot under the fruit trees was a favorite place among both young and old alike, where a beast could lose itself from cares and worries. And although it was halfway between breakfast and lunch, Maura had broken out a creamy plum pudding from the kitchens as a diverting treat for the youngsters. Most of them now gleefully sported sticky lips and paws as a sign of their enjoyment of the pudding. But Droge sat with a nearly untouched bowl and a look of misery on his face.

"Mutha Maura, it's my fault Cyrus got hurted by that rat."

"Now, what makes you say that, Droge?"

The young 'hog sniffed, wiping a paw across his damp nose. "T'was alla that rollin' I did th' day afore last. If'n I hadn't stuck that mean ol' nasty rat, he wouldn'ta got even meaner an' cut open poor Cyrus."

Maura pulled Droge over to her and cradled him as much as his spikes would allow. "Don't be silly. That rat was trouble waiting to happen, and it had nothing to do with you pricking him. You pricked Machus, and he didn't go and hurt anybeast over it, did he? No, Droge, that no good rat was fighting with a weasel, and Cyrus just got in the way. It could have been any of you. Thankfully, it looks as if Cyrus is going to be just fine, given time."

Cuffy the dormouse came over and carefully patted Droge on his headspikes. "Don't be sad, Drogey. Mama Maura sez it'll be 'kay. Not your fault."

"Listen to your friend," Maura soothed. "He speaks good sense."

Cuffy stared up at the badger with wide eyes. "Mama Maura, I'm 'fraid o' that mean rat. What if he comes after morra us?"

Maura's brow furrowed momentarily. She'd heard about what Machus had told Vanessa and Arlyn in the Infirmary earlier, and she'd shared their view that it was very unlikely Wolfrum had run away in the night. Perhaps it was justice, but it wasn't any kind of justice she was comfortable with.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore," Maura told all the children around her. "He's gone to Hellsgates."

"Hellsgates?"

"Where's that?"

"Nevva hearda it."

"That's where wicked beasts go after they've done something very, very bad." Maura gazed earnestly into one face after another, lowering her voice. "And they never come back!"

The youngsters sat spellbound, giving the badger matriarch their full attention. "Nevva, evva?" a baby bankvole squeaked.

"No," Maura answered. "Never, ever."

Padgett the mole moaned. "Uurrr, Mutha Maura, oi doan't wanna go thurr!"

"Now, now Paj," she cooed, taking the velvety molebabe into her embrace, "goodbeasts like us don't ever have to go there. So you'll never see that bad old rat again. He can never hurt another creature, here at Redwall or anywhere else."

Maura could sense the little ones relaxing , and that made her feel very fulfilled. The younger Abbey children looked to her for comfort and reassurance in times of unease; her pleasure and purpose came from providing just that. She'd wondered if she might be going too far when she'd mentioned Hellsgates, whether that might not scare them rather than ease their minds. But they needed to know that the creature who'd harmed Cyrus was forever gone from their lives, and she could tell now that they were less anxious than before. They'd been more scared of Wolfrum than she'd realized.

"And one more thing," she added. "All the other rats and weasels and ferrets and stoats have been put out of our Abbey, except for the weasel who hurt Cyrus, and he's locked up and under guard down in the cellars. So you don't have anything to fear from any of them either."

"Wha' 'bout th' squirlydogs?" Cuffy asked.

"They're goodbeasts," Maura said automatically, surprising herself with her own words. "Their leader helped save Cyrus. That mouse would not be alive now if it weren't for Machus the fox ... um, I mean Machus the squirreldog."

Droge wiggled away from Maura's grasp. "I feel better now."

"I'm glad to hear that, Droge. Now, do you feel like having some more pudding?"

At the mention of that food, Droge reached up and touched the top of his head. "Hey, Cuffy!" he complained. "Y'got my headspikes all sticky!"

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As it turned out, Machus had both of his problems solved well before lunchtime. All it took was two short lengths of chain.

It was a simple matter to kill two birds with one stone. A quick trip to the Abbey smithy produced two pairs of manacle cuffs that would fit snugly around the appropriate appendage of hare and weasel. Hanchett and Smallert were chained together, forepaw to forepaw and footpaw to footpaw. Neither captive would be able to slip these bonds, and the hare would not be able to run very fast or very far with the other beast bound to him. Machus made a point of fastening Hanchett's two right paws to Smallert's left ones, since Hanchett was right-pawed. Machus recalled this fact from seeing the Salamandastron hare brandish the knife that he was going to throw at Urthblood. The swordfox always paid attention to details like that. There would be no escapes on his watch.

Even with this precaution in place, Machus ordered a pair of his foxes to accompany the pair at all times, wherever in the Abbey they went. The hares of the Long Patrol were fanatical in their devotion to their badger masters. Machus would put nothing past this one, not even clubbing Smallert unconscious and making a break with the weasel still chained at his side. A fighting hare would know many tricks, and Machus was determined to guard Hanchett more closely now than before.

The hour before noon found Hanchett and Smallert up in the Infirmary. Machus agreed with Vanessa that the weasel should see Cyrus, and be made to fully face the consequences of his actions. Since Hanchett was not to be released for another seven days, Smallert would have another seven extra days of life while he played the part of a living ball-and-chain. Machus wanted to make those days as joyless for the weasel as he could.

If there was any joy in Smallert's heart at his temporary reprieve, it didn't show in his face as he stood gazing down at Cyrus. Even the most hard-hearted of the Redwallers present found it impossible to maintain their enmity toward the creature who'd injured their young bellringer, so tortured was the expression on Smallert's face. The story had been told, by Montybank and Geoff and others who had witnessed these events, how it had been Wolfrum the rat who'd actually put Cyrus in harm's way, how Smallert had not wounded the mousechild on purpose, and how shocked the weasel had seemed upon realizing what he had done. None would argue that Smallert had behaved barbarously. But it was plain now as he visited Cyrus's sickbed how genuinely aggrieved Smallert was by his actions.

Cyril, at first cool toward the beast who'd nearly slain his brother, looked at Smallert for a long time. Then, he came over to the weasel's side and put a paw on Smallert's arm.

"It's okay," Cyril said. "You don't have to be sad anymore. He's going to be all right."

"I'm mighty glad t' hear it," Smallert answered. "I'm a deadbeast either way, but I don't care 'bout that. I jus' want this lad to get well. I c'n go to my grave wi' peace o' mind, if I can know he'll be walkin' in this world fer seasons to come."

Cyril could only give a blank stare of confoundment. "But ... no, you don't understand. It doesn't have to be that way. Cyrus is going to live."

"Smallert also slew one of his fellow soldierbeasts," Machus said to Cyril. "He must answer for that misdeed as well. And there can be only one punishment for that."

"Oh." Cyril looked downcast at this news.

Smallert forced a weak smile. "Like you said, lad, yer brother's gonna be okay, an' nuthin' could make this heart gladder. But I'm a soldier, an' gotta face th' music fer all I've done." He yanked at the chain linking him to Hanchett. "This fine fightin' beast, he unnerstands. Gotta keep discipline in th' ranks. It's gotta be done."

Hanchett put on a distasteful face. "Actshully, chum, Lord Urthfist would never hafta execute any o' his hares, 'cos we'd jolly well know better than to pull a sword on anybeast wot didn't deserve it, or cut down one o' our own."

Smallert hung his head. "Well, you was raised t' be good 'n' decent. Ain't so easy bein' that way, when fer most o' yer life others assume th' worst from you. I thought that mebbe I could change, but I guess I was wrong."

Vanessa was moved, in spite of her anger over what Smallert had done to Cyrus, and she took Machus aside. "I have heard from some of our otters that the rat Wolfrum pushed his fellow rat before Smallert's blade, much as he did with Cyrus. This weasel acted unwisely and in the heat of the moment, but his missing ear clearly proves he was provoked into his actions. And he seems truly remorseful of the trouble he has caused. Is there any chance at all that you might be able to show him clemency, and spare his life?"

"I can afford to show him no mercy," the swordfox replied. "As long as he stays within Redwall, I will honor your right to accept responsibility for Smallert yourself. Do so, and you will be free to punish him or pardon him in accordance with your own rules. But he would have to dwell henceforth within this Abbey. Are you sure you want such a creature living amongst you?"

Geoff looked sideways at the Abbess. "I'm not so sure about this, Vanessa ... "

"If Cyril can find it in his heart to forgive Smallert for what he did to Cyrus, we should be able to do the same. I do not believe Smallert hurt Cyrus or took the other rat's life intentionally. Right now he is at our mercy, and as Abbess I cannot easily stand by and watch a creature who is in our care be put to death." She glanced at Machus. "Not even if it is your justified sword that deals his fate, and the deed takes place outside our walls ... "

"We have time to consider such things," said Machus. "For the next seven days, Smallert shall remain chained to this hare. I will not release him from that service before then. In the meantime, we will watch how Cyrus recovers, and see if he continues to improve at this encouraging rate. That is the most important thing. The question of what to do with Smallert will wait until then."

Sister Aurelia called out from her patient's bedside. "Oh, Machus! Cyrus is stirring. I think he may be getting ready to wake up."

Machus went to Cyrus and examined the unconscious mouse. "Yes, it could be," he concluded after several moments. "He is recovering well. He could awaken at any time."

Cyril clasped his brother's paw. "I'm going to be here when he does. I don't care how long it takes, I'll be here for him."

"I think that's a good thing," Geoff agreed. The recorder mouse shot a glance at Smallert. "I also think it would be a good idea if certain beasts aren't here when he awakes. That weasel was the last thing Cyrus saw before he was struck down, and I hardly think it should be the first sight that greets him when he opens his eyes."

"Good point. Machus, it's nearly lunchtime anyway. Hanchett and Smallert can wait down on the lawns. Please have them taken out."

"Of course, Abbess." Machus made a paw gesture, and the two foxes in charge of guarding the chained pair moved forward to escort them from the Infirmary.

But Smallert raised a paw to stay them for a moment, then shuffled forward to Cyrus, bringing his hare companion clinking and jangling along with him. The weasel leaned over the still form, reaching out carefully to touch Cyrus on the breast. His paw hovered there momentarily, barely brushing the white chest fur. Then he withdrew it, not wanting to disturb the mousechild out of turn.

"Get well, liddle bucko," he whispered, then allowed Hanchett and the foxes to lead him away from the bed and out of the room.

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In the minutes that followed, Cyrus stirred several times more but did not come awake.

Cyril, true to his word, declared that he would sit by his brother through lunch, and through dinner if necessary, until Cyrus regained consciousness. Sister Aurelia also wished to maintain the vigil, and arranged for Friar Hugh to send up enough food and drink for those who wanted to take their lunch in the Infirmary.

Geoff rose from his seat next to Cyril and gave a stretch that put him up on his tip-paws. "Oh, my, that feels good. These old bones aren't used to sitting up all night in the same spot. If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll go outside to eat. It's a beautiful day. Somebeast please fetch me if Cyrus wakes up, and I'll hurry back here as quickly as I can."

Vanessa looked at her old friend. "You sound as if you don't plan on coming right back after lunch, Geoff."

"Actually, Cyrus said something to me just before this whole unfortunate incident occurred. Something that struck me as possibly of some importance. I'd like to look into it while his words are still fresh in my mind."

"Oh? What was it?"

"We were wondering why the Abbey founders did not appear to have left any warning or prophecy about the times of trouble that Lord Urthblood predicts. Cyrus mentioned that they didn't seem to have foreseen General Ironbeak either - he's the raven who tried to conquer Redwall in the time of Matthias - and I thought that very odd. I want to read through the histories of those times, to see if they might hold some clue to this mystery. I can't shake the feeling that there's something important tied up in all of this, some point that we really ought to know. At the time, I almost felt like the spirit of Martin the Warrior was trying to communicate with me. It was very strange."

Old Arlyn raised an eyebrow. "If that's true, it would be the first time that our venerable founding Warrior has made his presence felt since I've been alive. We must not ignore it. But if all you're going to be doing is reading through some of the recent histories, why don't you bring them up here? I'm sure that when Cyrus wakes up he'll want to see you."

"Perhaps I will." But I don't want to make it too crowded in here, and besides," Geoff glanced from Sister Aurelia to Cyril and Billus the mole, "I think the ones Cyrus will most want to see will be right here when he awakens."