“Aye, we did that. Then suddenly Grubclaw says to me, ‘Ragwing, can you see that shadow down
there?’ ”
“How could you see a shadow if it was pitch-black?” a rook interrupted.
“Well, er, er. It was the moonlight coming in through the windows. Yes, that’s right it was the
moonlight, anyhow—”
The rook butted in again. “Kaah! What a load of old eggshells. It was dark as a northland well, but with
moonlight shining through the windows.”
Grubclaw ruffled his feathers airily. “Kragga! Who is telling this, you or us? We know what we saw.
But we can keep it to ourselves if you start making fun of us.”
The other rooks silenced the interrupter.
“We saw a shadow in the moonlight,” Ragwing continued. “Well, at first we thought it was a shadow,
but when we looked closer it was an earthcrawler.”
Grubclaw nodded solemnly. “A ghost mouse, all in armour. It seemed to appear from nowhere. Graak!
It was carrying a long sword and it had no face. It moved like a feather in the breeze. I think it was floating,
don’t you, Ragwing?”
“Yes, it definitely floated. And another thing, it carried the long sword as if it weighed nothing. It must
have had great spirit strength. The cold lights burned from its eyes like fire in ice—”
“I thought you said it had no face. How could it have burning eyes?”
“Yaggah! Will you shut your beak and listen? It was, it was, er, the white moonlight shining on it, yes, it
made the face that this ghost didn’t have look like two burning eyes. Haak! We saw it, I swear on my egg
and nest. Isn’t that right, mate?”
“True, true. It seemed to know we were watching it, because it turned to face us. We perched there,
ready to attack if the ghost mouse tried anything.”
“And did it? Try anything, I mean?”
“Krakkah! Did it! Well, it pointed with this great sharp sword and said; ‘Death to all who stay in the
redhouse!’ ”
“Aye, that’s the very words it said. But the voice! Kaah! It was like thunder over mountains, I wonder
you lot didn’t hear it.”
“We were sleeping. So, what did you do?”
“Haak! I’ll tell you what we did, we shook our claws at it and said; ‘You come any closer, ghost, and
you’ll have us to deal with. Stop there while we go and bring General Ironbeak our Chief,’ ” Grubwing
embroidered.
“Aye, we backed off, ready to give a good fight if it came floating up to the galleries. Ironbeak and
Mangiz came out, Mangiz was shaking like a fledgling whose mother has left it,” Ragwing added.
“What did Ironbeak do?”
“Kaah, him! He flew about a bit and could not find the ghost, so he said he didn’t believe us and flew off
to get some sleep.”
“So where did the ghost mouse go to?”
“Yakkah! I don’t know. To the place where other ghost mice go, I suppose.”
“You mean, there might be others?”
“Kagg! I’m not saying anything, but I wouldn’t be surprised at all. The big door was open wide,
Ironbeak couldn’t deny that.”
The conversation carried on, getting more horrific with each imagined detail until some of Ironbeak’s
fighters decided that conquering the redstone house was not such a good idea.
“Did you see Mangiz today? He was badly knocked about.”
“Yagg! Do you think the ghosts had something to do with it?”
Ambrose Spike threw a careless pawful of hotroot into the simmering watershrimp soup.
John Churchmouse glared at the hedgehog over the top of his steamed-up glasses. “Ambrose, the
recipe says half a spoon of hotroot. Why didn’t you measure it?”
The old hedgehog bustled John to one side. “Don’t tell me how to make shrimp and hotroot soup. I
learned my recipe from otters. A pawful, that’s what you need. Let’s see if that roseleaf and cowslip custard
is ready.”
“Don’t you dare touch my custard, you rough-pawed cellar keeper. It’ll be ruined if you open that oven
too soon. Come away.”
Ambrose could not get past John to open the oven. He snorted and began furiously kneading nuts into a
batch of honeysuckle scones. John tugged his whiskers in despair.
“Honeysuckle scones have a delicate flavour all of their own. Sister Agnes’s recipe calls for beechnuts,
but you’ve put acorns and hazelnuts in. Where did those beechnuts I shelled go to?”
Ambrose wrinkled his snout and kneaded faster. “Oh, those. I ate ’em. There was only a few. I’m very
partial to a beechnut now and again.”
John clapped a paw to his brow. “You didn’t wash your paws. The whole batch will taste of hotroot!”
Ambrose grinned wickedly. “So what? Ginger ’em up a bit. Give them more blackberry wine to drink
and they won’t notice the difference. Come on, quill-pusher, get those onions peeled.”
John flung down his oven cloth. “Peel them yourself, barrel-minder!”
Late that night a breeze sprang up. Clouds scudded across the moon, sending shifting patterns over the
Abbey floor beneath Ironbeak and Mangiz. The Methuselah and Matthias bells rang briefly, stopping
abruptly to leave an eerie silence in their wake.
“How can the bells toll when we have the earthcrawlers trapped in that room below?” Mangiz
murmured to Ironbeak.
“Kagga! Hold your beak,” Ironbeak silenced him. “I don’t know how they rang the bells and I don’t
care. It might be a diversion to stop us watching here. Keep your eyes on the floor below, over by the big
door.”
They waited and watched.
So did the rooks from the dormitory, who had sneaked out on to the far corner of the galleries.
Curiosity had overcome their General’s command to stay in the dormitory. They had to see for themselves.
The main Abbey door creaked on its hinges, slowly opening.
The raven and the crow held their breath as they watched it. A few dried leaves drifted in on the
sighing breeze, pale moon patterns swayed on the worn stone floor, and the darkness in shadowy corners
seemed to grow deeper.
The tomblike silence was broken by a voice like rolling thunder:
“Death waits in this place for those who stay!”
Mangiz felt the feathers on his back rise as if a cold paw had touched them.
The ghostly phantom appeared. It came in slowly by the doorway, halted, looked up at Ironbeak and
pointed with the sword.
“See, General, there it is, the armoured mouse!” Mangiz exclaimed.
Ironbeak buffeted the crow savagely. “Shuttup, idiot. I’m going to deal with this once and for all!”
The raven went into a short run. He hurled himself over the galleries and sped towards the floor of
Great Hall.
The apparition took one pace backward and vanished completely!
There was a cry of horror from the rooks. General Ironbeak skidded to a halt. Landing clumsily in his
haste, he bowled over in a bundle of feathers. Swiftly regaining his balance, he dashed outside. It was mere
seconds since the ghost had disappeared, but the grounds in front of the Abbey were completely deserted.
Ironbeak whirled about, baffled. He tore at the grass with his talons before rushing back inside. Hither
and thither he darted about on the floorstones. Finally he halted, his powerful frame heaving with exertion.
Looking upward, he sought something to vent his rage upon. The rooks in the corner of the gallery! They