Now, you might be wondering- what was all that about? Why did we have to have an entire chapter about some random slave outwitting a witless weasel? And before that why did we have to have an entire chapter that can be summarised as 'Harlapple babysitting? Where's the besieging already? And to that I say, be patient. All your questions will be answered in due time.

Anyways! On with the story now. As you already know I am currently undercover inside Redwall Abbey, posing as the soap seller and actor Lenny Leftwit. By the machinations of the sadistic Badermum-substitute I was given no choice but to hound after Redwall's brats while I plotted to bring the Abbey down. The incredibly irritating children and the woes of a warlord began to wear down on me, so while Disibod was making his dramatic escape I was halfway down a barrel of elderberry cordial.

It was here that the vile Sister Wilhelmina cornered me.

"Lenny, would you be willing to put on another show for the feast tonight?" she asked.

Lenny's only response was a soft snore.

The vixen patted his shoulder.

"TO THE LEFT!" Harlapple bolted upright so fast that the blood rushed to his brain and made him dizzy. Losing balance he came tumbling to the ground. Were it not for the barrel on his face he might have hurt himself!

"Oh, goodness!" the schoolmaster exclaimed, as slowly, but surely, he began snoring again.

She sat him upright. "Mr. Leftwit, please wake up."

"W-wh-where am I? Mummy?"

Thankfully my wits returned before Sister Willhelma grew too concerned for my mental stability.

"Oh! Sister! I'm sorry, I ate so much for breakfast I just felt so tired." He pried his masked face out of the empty cordial barrel that went unspoken. "Is er- is something wrong?"

"Oh, forgive me, nothing is wrong," she said shaking her head. "I was just wondering if you could put on a show tonight for the feast."

I really shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that there was going to be another feast- in the brief time I spent observing the day to day life of Redwall Abbey there seemed to be at least one every day and two on weekends. I no longer needed to use a belt to hold up my pants.

"Of course! It's my specialty after all! Imagine a travelling actor not putting on a show at each and every opportunity!" Lenny laughed at his own joke. "I suppose you'll all want a new one?"

"The dibbuns would appreciate that for sure." she said.

"Then consider it done! I might need a few more of my barrels moved into the Hall though. And a quiet room to practice in. Leaned a bit too much on the soap these past few seasons, afraid I have to patch up some of my old scripts. I do know of a very good story about a family of mice and their wearet!"

"Oh, wonderful! I will move the barrels for you and see if you can't use the Abbot's study for practice. It is very quiet in there."

I made up my mind then and there to leave before the feast. I had had my fill of the Abbey's cuisine and my hunger for conquest was growing. While Lenny 'practiced' in the Abbot's study, Harlapple would take his leave and prepare to bring Redwall down.

That was when she burst into the room.

Sister Snowbelle who had been listening from nearby, made her way inside and raised a paw. "E-excuse me, Mister Leftwit, I um… I'd like tae o-offer my services as…a harp player?"

I shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that Snowball wanted in on the show. She never did miss an opportunity to upstage me. Were I thinking clearly I would have refused and sent her off in tears. Unfortunately there was still far too much cordial corrupting my brain.

"A harp player! That sounds wonderful and I bet the harp will too!" He turned to Sister Willhelma and in an exaggerated whisper asked, "She's not another pee-bomb, is she?"

Giggling, Sister Willy took her leave as Snowbelle burst into a smile. "I'll fetch the harp!"

The harp, for those wondering, is the thing Oakwin was working on in the previous chapter. Snowball will never tell you that. Now it was bad enough that my dramatic exit was foiled by the attention-seeking, self-centered diva, but it turns out she wasn't the only beast interested in becoming an actor.

Barley half-grinned under a bulbous nose (having had a rather exciting encounter of the buzzing kind). "Leddy, i deed sobethig to do. Turds oud i can'd dring because bore cobes spillig ouda by gob thed stays id so cad i have a part please?"

It took me thirty minutes and far too much repetition for my liking to figure out what she was trying to say.

Lenny blinked. "A part!" Lenny, rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm, I'm sure I could find a role for you to play. You look very much like the mythical trolls South of Southward."

Barley grimaced and hunched her back. "Grrrribatrollolloll… I assube this is correct?"

"Perfect! I have never had the pleasure of meeting one but I assume you sound just like they would." Lenny chuckled and handed her a prop. "No needs to give you a mask today. Alternatively, I could have you play the part of the fair maiden. For… ironic purposes."

Barley played at blushing, hiding her face behind a plate she held like a fan. "Oh, do go od you ole sdake charber you!"

"Yes, you would be wonderful. I can see it now. First. The harp. Then. The singing. You enter the stage, bashful and shy. And the audience sees your face. And our hero," he winked and gestured towards his humble self. "Sees your face. And of course, with features like yours, it's love at first sight!"

Barley made a curtsey. "Are you sure this perfecd bug of bide won'd ubsdage you too bad?"

"I think I've been doing this long enough to know how to keep the spotlight on myself." Lenny grinned. "Though maybe I should play the damsel in distress."

Keeping this abomination of an act going was very distressing. To add to my distress, it was at this moment that Snowball entered and decided she was in a snarky mood.

"I should plaster your snout with pond mud, Barley, maybe ye'd be able tae speak!"

The rat frowned at the squirrel from behind her swollen nose. "How dare you. I sbeak with de elegends of a queed by dear treebouse."

"A queen with a terrible cold!"

It wasn't all bad though, Snowball's arrival presented me with a perfect opportunity to escape.

"What a magnificent creation!" Lenny swooned, staring in awe at the magnificent harp. "Can I touch it?" Before the squirrel could answer the mouse raised a paw. "Hold that thought! Now that there are three of us here we will need more props! If you'll give me a bit I'll be back in a jiffy!" Without another word Lenny bolted from the room as fast as his feetpaw could carry him.

He didn't stop running until he was halfway to the gate. He would have continued but one overly-filling breakfast too many made running an impossibility and slowed the warlord to a crawl.

I did honestly want to leave. I had seen enough of the Abbey and had a perfectly foolproof plan of action to bring it to heel. But a part of me wanted one more Raspberry Swirlcake, and another part of me craved another glass of the finest Strawberry Fizz in Mossflower Country, and another part of me figured I wouldn't have time for silly things like putting on a play with an old friend from my childhood after I brought Redwall down.

So Lenny returned, his arms stuffed with fabricated feathers. "We are going to be performing an old favourite of mine!"

Well, an old favourite of my horde's.

"The Ballad Of The Lost Eagle!" Dumping the feathers onto the Abbot's desk, Lenny turned to face his actors, grinning wide. "It is about a wearet called Kew-Kew, played by none other than this fair maiden," he gestured at Barley. "Who was adopted by an eagle and thus thinks themselves to be one. Your face doesn't need any work, but put these," he gestured at the feathers. "Everywhere!" With a clap of his paws he turned to Snowbelle. "You, dear Sister, will play our narrator! Who dramatizes towards the audience while I, the poor, innocent, lost young mouse am captured by the wicked Kew-Kew and strung up as bait for other eagles."

Snowbelle pointed at the feathers, her eyes growing wide. "Are ye saying…we have tae affix those all tae Barley?"

"Yup! Don't worry, it's designed to be strung on threads and then wrapped around the body." He demonstrated, giving himself a necklace of feathers. "Or else tucked into places." He stuffed one behind an ear.

Barley held out her arms and closed her eyes. "Cobe my faithful subjeks, dress your queed TOOD SWEEDS!"

Lenny showed Snow the little holes in the feathers where the cord was strung through. "Payed a fortune for this costume. One of my proudest possessions."

Actually I stole it, but she was unlikely to appreciate that.

"…are ye sure ye want Barley tae wear it?" She joked, nodding to the ratmaid's swollen snout. "She has a habit of getting intae trouble."

Lenny grinned. "Well then it sounds like all she has to do is go out there and be herself!"

The squirrelmaid giggled, grabbing fat pawfuls of feathers. "Ye'll make a lovely bird, Barley Mae."

"If we can have the stage custom made a little, you might even get to fly!"

Something like a foggy memory gnawed at the back of Barley's head at Lenny's mention of flight but it eluded her.

"I should probably ask Sister Willhelma about setting up the flying ropes sooner rather than later as well," the mouse went on. "And I'm really not sure how we'd make you eat me."

"Knowing Barley– hehehe! She's likely tae eat ye for real!" Snowbelle chortled, unable to contain her mirth. "She's– oh goodness!– quite the method actress! Hehehe!"

Barley winked and gnashed her teeth

Lenny chuckled, somewhat nervously. "Should I be concerned or terrified?"

Or murder you both here and now?

Barley jolted as an idea struck her. "Aktually I have ad idea to bake that work if you'll give be a little tibe to bake sub bodificatiods. Don'd worry, i'b the best field surgeod aroud. By sutures are secod to dud."

The mouse gave her a pair of thumbclaws up. "Go right ahead. I had probably better talk to old Willy right now. The script is on the table if you want to read through it. Don't worry about memorizing the lines. So long as you know the gist of them it's no harm done. First rule of theater, always leave a little room to -" he spread his paws about in a flourish. "Improvise."

Barley closed her eyes, savoring the freedom she had just been given. "Ah, id's like a winderfesd gifd id bidsubber."

Footnote: Surprise! You get Harlapple this week instead of another ScrApp. Had a lot of fun editing this chapter, I think I'm getting the hang of Harlapple's 'inner voice' and 'sidenotes' if you will.

Hope you enjoyed!