Redwall: Book Two: Chapters 1–12

It was not until he had blundered and crashed along his way for some time, wildly upbraiding himself, that he calmed down with the realization that he was well and truly lost.

Matthias smiled disarmingly. He threw his paws open wide. “I’m lost!” he said.

Methuselah shook his head reprovingly. “He still cannot see..."

Cheesethief stood riveted by the single eye.

Cheesethief sprang into action, surprised that Scragg still lived but fatalistically accepting that nothing could kill Cluny.

Besides, he reveled in the respect that he received, dressed as he was in such barbaric finery.

Dispirited and battleworn, carrying their fallen leader, the maimed and wounded hobbled painfully along at the rear, the bitter ashes of vanquishment and defeat mingling with the dust from their stumbling vanguard.

“Ah, ’tis your lucky day, yer honor, for don’t I know the very vixen.”
“Foxes?” echoed Cluny.
“Aye, foxes, sir,” the ferret replied.

Methuselah took a sip of milk, pulled a wry face and reached for his October ale.

The old mouse took a great draught of ale.

The sly fox blustered. “But my good rats, surely you must realize that I can do nothing without my stock of herbs? Now please let me pass.”

“Then you had better let me have your names. That way I can tell Cluny when he awakes full of pain with festering wounds. No doubt he’ll want to know who it was stopped me trying to cure him.”

Sela smiled ingratiatingly. “By all means. Let your friend come along. I have nothing to hide.”

He gushed forth praise for the Abbey victuals.

Built of stout timber, banded with iron, beset with florin spikes, the door did not appear to be locked.

“Look, there’s some writing on the lintel over the door.”

Methuselah feigned indifference, but his natural curiosity soon overcame any chagrin he felt at not being allowed to pass the doorway.

All around the sides of the stone were detailed carvings, depicting scenes from Martin’s life: deeds of valor and works of skillful healing. Lying along the top of the stone was a life-sized effigy of the Warrior.

The sword belt was in pristine condition, soft and as supple as if it had newly come from the tanner’s bench: shiny black leather with a hanging tab to carry sword and scabbard.

No amount of wheedling and blandishment would cause the cynical badger to change her mind.

No amount of wheedling and blandishment would cause the cynical badger to change her mind.

The Abbot patted Matthias indulgently. “I understand, my son..."

Methuselah was in a ferment of eagerness as he led his young friend over to the gatehouse.

The old gatehouse-keeper raised an admonitory paw. “Patience, young one, patience..."

After a cursory glance she threw up her paws in mock despair.

Methuselah was distinctly piqued. “How do you know that? Explain yourself.”

Methuselah ignored the badger’s attempt at levity.

Sela made a sweeping servile curtsey.

No use tempting fickle Dame Fortune.

“Wait. Look at the Abbey roof,” Constance murmured. “The beam cuts right across the top gable. I can see the weather vane as clearly as if it were day.”

However it was three rather disconsolate creatures that sat down to early breakfast after a few hours’ fitful sleep.

She climbed with speed and alacrity.

Chins went up, heads tilted back, the crowd below followed the ascent of the plucky Jess Squirrel.

Sure enough, the fierce birds were whirling in close to the intrepid Jess.

He grabbed hold of his sniveling crony and started shaking him.

Panting furiously, Redtooth berated Fangburn: “You half-witted fool! Now see what you’ve done! While you were busy assaulting a superior officer, you let the fox escape.”

Matthias looked pensive. “Do you think it could have been the sword?”

“Oh, dear me, no. I like to think of myself as an aged but extremely erudite scholar.”

“Where’s the special herb you went to search for?”
Sela was completely nonplussed. “Special herb? I—”

This was another rat that could not scurry off. No expenditure of venom or hypnosis needed. How fortunate! The huge reptile coiled itself languorously around the dead rodent.