Look for other watchful eyes.
Sleep not ’neath the darkpine trees,
Be on guard, take not your ease,
Voyage when the daylight dims,
Danger in the water swims.
Make no noise with spear or sword,
Lest you wake the longtail horde.
Shades of creatures who have died,
Bones of warriors who tried.
Shrink not from the barren land,
Look below from where you stand,
This is where a stone may fall and make no sound at all.
Those who cross and live to tell,
See the badger and the bell,
Face the lord who points the way
After noon on summer’s day.
Death will open up its grave.
Who goes there … ? None but the brave. ”
The Abbot nodded wisely. “It’s a lot clearer now. This is a crude map and a poem that tells a bit more
than the last one. In fact, it’s a key to the rhyme that was found beneath the Abbey.”
Cornflower was puzzled. “How so, Father Abbot?”
The old mouse tapped his paw upon the design in the bottom corner. “There. ‘Thorn,’ ‘shout.’ That’s
only north and south mixed up…. A jumbled shout, as in: walk straight to a jumbled shout.”
Cornflower smiled as recognition dawned. “Of course, it means go due south.”
Foremole wrinkled his nose. “Whoi didden oi think o’ that? If you’m a-walken south then sun must be
a-setten in dexteree.”
“Where is dexteree?” It was the Abbot’s turn to look puzzled.
Foremole chuckled and pointed at the Abbot’s left eye. “That’n thurr be sinistree.” Moving his paw, he
pointed at the Abbot’s right eye. “An’ that’n be yurr dexteree.”
The Abbot smiled and scratched his head. “Foolish of me. Sinister and dexter, left and right. In the old
language of Loamhedge, sinistree is left eye, dexteree right eye. So you must be travelling south with the
sun setting in your right eye. Thank you, Foremole.”
“Moi pleasure, Abbot zurr.”
“So one thing is apparent,” Cornflower interrupted, “keep travelling south, straight south, no matter
what. I hope Matthias is doing that, wherever he, Jess and Basil are now. Oh, Father Abbot, if only we could
get this information, this map and poem, to them right now. They mean very little to us sitting here in
Redwall, but to my Matthias, why, he might be able to see the very places the map and poem tell of.”
“Indeed,” the Abbot shrugged sadly. “Not only that, but it tells the exact route and even clues to the
dangers they will encounter: the woodland trees, the water, when to cross it, the longtails, the place where
stones fall and make no sound — it’s all here — badgers’ heads, bells, Lord of Mossflower. Cornflower, you
are right, it’s about as much use to us as a snowfall in summer, but to them….”
“Then you make copee. All Sparra fly, all Sparra, much long, fly plenty, find um my friend Matthias
with old longears and treejumper. We find, you see.”
Cornflower was taken aback. “Queen Warbeak, I don’t know, but how … ?”
The Sparra Queen hopped onto the mantelpiece and cocked her head to one side jauntily. “No worry.
Warbeak Queen, Sparra warriors do what me say. Matthias, Redwall, all good to Warbeak and Sparra folk.
We do this for you, for you.”
“Splendid!” For a mouse of his many seasons, the Abbot did a surprisingly agile leap up onto his paws.
“I will rouse Brother Sedge, Sister Agnes, Brother Rufus, Sister May. Together with myself and John
Churchmouse, they should be able to copy the map and the poem several times over before first light. I take
it you will want to leave at dawn, Queen Warbeak?”
The sparrow bowed gravely. “First wormlight, oldmouse Abbot, all Sparra fly south.”
Outside the gatehouse window, other ears were listening. A large magpie clacked his beak together in
satisfaction and took off for the woodlands beyond the Abbey’s north wall.
Book 2 - General Ironbeak
Chapter 26
Matthias and his friends watched in silence as Log-a-Log held up the black stone in one paw and addressed
the shrews seated on the river bank in the quiet summer’s evening.
“Members of the Guosim, you have heard the tale Matthias of Redwall and his friends related to us.
There is evil abroad in Mossflower; this we already knew. Slavers, the masked fox and his band, have
captured young creatures. Even now they are marching them south.”
“So, what has this got to do with us?” the shrew named Skan interrupted.
Log-a-Log turned on the insolent one. “Silence, Skan! Do not show your bad manners by calling out
while I hold the stone at a council meeting. If you wish to say anything, then wait until I have finished and
it is your turn to hold the stone. This is the rule of the Guosim.”
Skan sniggered and muttered something to his cronies. Standing boldly, he faced Log-a-Log.
“It’s a stupid rule, like all your silly Guosim customs. I am a tree shrew and I’ll talk when I feel like it.”
Immediately a hubbub and argument broke out on both sides.
Orlando pawed his axe. He made to rise, but Matthias warned him, “Sit still friend. Leave this to Log-a-
Log.”
The shrew leader restored order by raising his voice above the rest.
“Logalogalogalog! Listen to me, shrews. The creatures of Redwall have always been our good friends. If
we were hungry, if we were hurt, if we were sick, the Brothers and Sisters of the Abbey would help us
without question. It is our duty to help them now. I say we go with Matthias and his companions. We will
fight the slavers and rescue the young ones. Are you with me?”
There was a loud shout of agreement from the main body, but Skan and his followers stood to one side,
silent and sneering. Log-a-Log walked stiff-legged to where Skan stood. The shrew leader thrust his face
close to the young usurper, his hackles bristling dangerously.
“And you, Skan, are you for the Guosim or against it?”
“Guosim, huh!” Skan said scornfully, though he avoided Log-a-Log’s eyes. “A pile of old fuddy-
duddies making outdated rules and regulations, why should me and my friends get ourselves slain or
injured sorting out the troubles of others. I say we mind our own business.”
Log-a-Log smiled coldly. “So, it has come to this. You have been pushing and prodding me for quite a
while now, Skan. Perhaps you would like to be the new Log-a-Log of the Guosim? Well, now is your
chance. Let’s see if you fight as bravely as you talk. Come on, Skan, knock this council stone from an old
fuddy-duddy’s paw.”
The shrew leader stood in front of the young rebel, holding out the stone for all to see. He looked
relaxed, though his whole body was tensed like a steel spring. Skan stood half a head taller than Log-a-Log.
For a moment it looked as if he were about to do something, then he saw the light of battle in the shrew
leader’s eyes and his nerve failed him. He turned away.
“Yah, who wants to be bothered with the Guosim? I’m away to roam free and do as I like. Come on,
shrews.”
Skan and his group of followers marched off into the fading light.
There was an audible sigh of relief throughout the shrew camp. The main body, who were with Log-a-