lifeless tail and pressed it to his lips in silent remembrance of his friend.
Inside the Great Hall of the Abbey a large brazier had been set up and lit. Steam rose from the fur of all the
creatures as they rubbed themselves off on rough towels. Sister May from the infirmary moved among
them, giving out doses of herbal medicine. Many sat on the stone floor, clutching their heads tightly to
relieve splitting headaches. Matthias strode in, followed by Basil Stag Hare. He clattered his swordblade
against a sandstone column to gain attention.
“Abbot, Constance, Winifred, Jess Squirrel, Warbeak Sparra, Foremole and you, Basil, follow me down
to Cavern Hole. The rest of you, stay inside, keep dry and warm, and look after those who are not well.”
A semblance of order was restored in Great Hall. Hot soup was being made in the kitchen, warm
blankets were distributed by Brother Rufus and Sister Agnes, Sister May and Mrs. Churchmouse tended
John Churchmouse in the infirmary, while Cornflower took charge of baby Rollo.
Down the steps in Cavern Hole, Matthias sat at the big table with the others. He looked around.
“Well, did any creature see what went on last night? Can anyone shed any light on this terrible thing? I
want straight answers, no guesses, please.”
There was silence, then the Abbot said, “We will have to wait until John Churchmouse is recovered
sufficiently to talk. The only other two witnesses to what went on are no longer with us.”
There was a stunned silence as the enormity of events sat like a heavy stone upon the little group.
Jess Squirrel stood up slowly. “I’ll go to the infirmary and see how Mr. Churchmouse is faring.”
Basil livened up. “That’s the ticket, Jess. Action, that’s what we need. Now, where do we start?”
The Abbot folded his paws into his wide sleeves. “At the beginning, Basil. I think we all know who did
this shocking thing.”
“Harr, boi ’okey we do, zurr,’ Foremole growled. “ ’Twas they rascally durtbags, foxes an’ the loik,
they’m magicked us t’ sleepen.”
“Magicked my auntie’s tail,” Winifred the Otter snorted. “That was a powerful sleeping draught. We
should’ve known not to trust a fox, should never have let ’em in.”
Matthias banged the tabletop hard. “Enough! No accusations or blame-laying, please. Now, you say
that we were drugged by a sleeping draught, well, that makes sense. I remember the fox asking us to drink
a toast. He could have slipped herbs or powders into the drinks any time at all while we were watching the
entertainment.”
Ambrose Spike had walked in. His stickles rose stiffly. “Aye, that’s what he did, the scummy toad. Then
he started twirlin’ that cloak thing of his round and round. I couldn’t keep me old eyes open.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Me too, it’s the last thing I remember.”
“Aye, we were mesmerized, I tell you.”
“Lunar Stellaris my back paw, colossal cheek more like it, wot?”
Foremole’s ground logic took over. “Hurr, but wot worr ee arfter?”
“That’s the question.” Matthias sighed heavily. “We don’t keep treasure or precious things that could be
looted. There’s only the sword and our great tapestry. I have the sword and I know our tapestry still hangs
in Great Hall, I’ve seen it with my own eyes this very morning. So what was he after?”
Warbeak the Sparra Queen shook a wing. “They um worms, must come from the northlands. All bad in
north. They go back that way, open little wormgate in north wall.”
Basil seconded Warbeak. “D’ y’ know, I believe you’re right, old thing. When the bally rain stops
chuckin’ down I’ll try and track ’em. Huh, ’fraid there won’t be much to track after this downpour,
though.”
“I think the Brothers and Sisters should take stock of everything, just in case there is something
missing,” the Abbot suggested. “Foremole, would you get a burial detail of your moles to dig two graves
next to each other? Basil, perhaps you could see what you can find around that small north wallgate. The
rest of you, when the rain stops, please help to bring the tables and stuff back in. We’d best get the Abbey
back to normal running as soon as possible.”
Matthias stood up resolutely. “Right, that’s it then. I think I’ll take a walk up to the infirmary and see
how John is.”
Sister May and Mrs. Churchmouse cautioned Matthias to be silent as he entered the sick bay. John
Churchmouse lay pale and still but breathing evenly.
“How is he?” Matthias whispered.
Mrs. Churchmouse smiled. “Alive and recovering, thank you, Matthias.”
John opened his eyes slowly and looked around. Matthias pressed his head back to the pillow as he
tried to rise. “Take it easy, old friend, just lie there. But if you feel like talking, perhaps you could tell us
what you remember of last night. Nobody knows what went on at the feast.”
Tears beaded in John’s eyes. “Friar Hugo and I had full cups already, so we didn’t let them pour us
more ale. Poor Mrs. Bankvole was too busy looking after her baby to join in the toast. Matthias, there’s no
doubt about it, you were all drugged, even then Hugo and I were half hypnotized by that fox with the cape.
When we saw what was going on we ran after them and tried to stop it, all three of us, the Friar, Mrs.
Bankvole and myself.”
“But what did go on, what were they after, John?” Matthias had an awful feeling in the pit of his
stomach as he asked the question.
The churchmouse broke down sobbing. “Our young ones, Matthias. They took my Tim and Tess, Sam
Squirrel, Cynthia Bankvole and your Mattimeo!”
An icy claw gripped Matthias’s heart. The words echoed from the doorway where Cornflower stood
with baby Rollo.
“Mattimeo gone, impossible! I’m sure I saw him with the others out there in the rain. Wasn’t he with
you, Matthias? Tim and Tess, he was with Tim and Tess, yes, that’s it!”
“My Tim and Tess! Oh, you saw them!” Mrs. Churchmouse’s voice was tinged with hope. Matthias
slammed his paw against the wall, anger and frustration etched upon his face.
“We were still half drugged, the rain was sheeting down, you could not have seen them. You must
believe what John says: he saw them being taken. What fools we were not to realize it before now!”
Cornflower was still shaking her head, refusing to accept the fact. “Jess, they’ll be with Jess downstairs,
all wrapped in blankets and drinking hot soup, you’ll see.”
“Cornflower, stop! They’re gone, believe me. But by my sword I’ll bring them back, I swear it!”
Baby Rollo was hidden by the aprons of Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse as they hugged each other
and wept. John raised his head.
“Little Cynthia Vole and Sam Squirrel too, they took them all,” he said sadly.
Sister May began bathing John’s wound. She dabbed away the tears that fell upon his brow.
“Poor Jess, whatever will we tell her? Dearie me, little Cynthia is an orphan. Bless the mite, what will
become of her? What a cruel and heartless thing to do. Those wicked beasts, stealing our young ones away.
What badness!”
Matthias put his paw about Cornflower’s shaking shoulders. He was numbed. Thoughts of his son
raced through his mind; the stern lecture he had given him, the double tasks. Now he was gone. It was as if
half of his heart had gone too. He loved Mattimeo, who would do little things that reminded him so much
of himself and Cornflower. Poor Cornflower. Even now she was trying to be brave, comforting Mrs.