The warrior mouse shook off his dizziness. Waving the sword, he began running back up the tunnel.
“To the ledge. Let us finish this thing. Follow me and shout our battle cry so that my friends will know
we are coming!”
Like a tidal wave beginning to build out upon the sea, the army grew. Creatures poured out of caves,
passages and corridors, running with Matthias towards the causeway steps. They heard his war shout and
echoed the wild cry until the caverns of Malkariss’s Kingdom rang with their voices.
“Redwaaaaaaaalllll!”
Nobody had really missed Constance. As always, the creatures of Redwall were free to go or come as they
pleased, and it was not uncommon for the badger to seek solitude and a place where she could be alone
with her thoughts for a day or two. The Abbot was not exactly happy with the situation, for in times of
trouble his great badger friend seldom left the Abbey. Mordalfus yawned, settling himself on a makeshift
pallet by the tunnel entrance in Cavern Hole. Who could tell what was in a badger’s mind? He would
probably awake the next morning to find Constance busy cooking breakfast for them all, he thought. He
checked that the Redwallers were bedded down safely. Baby Rollo was squeaking in his sleep as he
snuggled between Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse, and a night-light burned dimly in its wall sconce.
The old mouse folded his spectacles away into his wide habit sleeve. Closing his eyes gratefully, he
composed himself for a restful night’s sleep.
The fighting birds of General Ironbeak also slumbered peacefully on their dormitory perches through
the warm summer night. Mangiz and the raven leader catnapped on the windowsill, awaiting the hour
before dawn.
Inside the gatehouse, Constance had slept fitfully during the early evening. Now she was up and roaming
restlessly about. Every aperture she had tried was checked and rechecked. The badger had reached the
conclusion she had been locked in by a bird, and that the raven had some plan which he would put into
operation quite soon. Picking up a fire iron from the hearth, Constance began working on the hinges of the
heavily bracketed door.
As if summoned into wakefulness by some inner alarm, Ironbeak’s eyes snapped open wide and he
surveyed the sky and the top of the outer ramparts.
It was the hour before dawn.
Rousing Mangiz, he hopped down into the dormitory and began waking his fighters, talking to them in
a low voice.
“Kurrah! Now is the time. Brightback, take two rooks and your brothers. Mangiz will show you what
must be done. Bring the wood. Akahh! Careful now, do not drop it. The rest of you, follow me.”
A medium-sized plank of pine wrapped in sheets was picked up by Mangiz and his helpers. They slid
it silently along the floor, taking great care not to let it bump against anything. They moved it slowly down
the stairs and out into Great Hall. At a signal from the crow, they latched their claws into the sheets. It was
hard work, but after a bit of wingspreading and flapping, the plank rose a short way from the floor. With
Mangiz holding it steady at the front, they flew low towards the steps of Cavern Hole.
Brightback and Diptail settled the rear end of the cloth-covered wood securely on the third step down,
and Mangiz and two rooks placed the front end on top of the barricade at the foot of the stairs, so that it
formed a straight walk from the third step to the top of the table that formed the mainstay of the barrier.
The crow tested it. Walking the length of the plank quietly, he ducked his head under the arch of Cavern
Hole entrance. Ironbeak had worked it out well. A bird could pass into Cavern Hole easily this way.
Mangiz flapped one wing three times from the top of the stairs, and Ironbeak and his rooks
materialized out of the shadows to join them. The General’s quick bright eye sized up the muffled plank on
the third stair.
“Karrah! You have done well. We will pass inside as softly as a feather on the wind. Keep behind me
and wait for my signal.”
The Redwallers slept on, oblivious to the feathered head which poked itself into their refuge.
The night-light guttered low as Ironbeak crept in, positioning himself on the inside of the barricade
where he could assist his birds. One by one the rooks came through the opening, bobbing their heads as
they passed the space between the plank end and the curved entrance arch. Ironbeak silently beckoned
them to take up specific places he indicated; the tunnel entrance, the two steps at the far side which led to
the kitchens with the larders and wine cellar beyond, and the edges of the barricade to prevent it being
moved outwards as an avenue of escape.
Next came the magpies. He stationed them at the top of the barricade to stop any earthcrawler climbing
out. Mangiz was last to come through. Together he and Ironbeak slowly climbed down until they stood
firmly inside the final bastion of Redwall.
Mangiz could not help but admire his General. Truly Ironbeak was a conqueror. Despite false
prophecies and fighters scared near witless, he had stayed in command and fulfilled his own visions. The
redstone house would fall to his beak and talon.
Constance worked furiously with the bent and battered fire iron. Her hackles stood erect with an
unmentionable dread, and some sixth sense drove her to greater efforts as she battered and bludgeoned at
the unyielding hinges. Timber splintered and groaned as she struck the door; sparks flew as metal dashed
against metal. The stouthearted creature crashed the fire iron into the door again and again, her paws
numbed by the stinging vibrations. She had to break the door down, she had to get back to the Abbey with
all speed to save her friends from the unknown danger which threatened.
A heavy talon raked the sleeping Abbot’s back. He arched into wakefulness with a grunt of pain.
“Yaggah! Wake up, my little earthcrawlers, this is the day I make you do the dance of death. Ironbeak
has captured this great redstone house. Karragaaaah! ”
Cavern Hole echoed to the triumphant harshness of the raven General and his fighters, mingled with
the confused and terrified cries of shocked creatures.
Tim Churchmouse was wounded in the side by a rat spear. He fell as two of the blackrobes hurled
themselves on him. Mattimeo battled his way through with Cynthia Bankvole screaming shrill war cries
alongside him, and together they beat off the rats that beset Tim and hauled him upright.
“Tim, you’re hurt?” Cynthia asked anxiously.
“Yes. I mean, no. I’m all right. Give me that spear!”
Orlando and Auma stormed through, the big badger practically holding the door as a shield with one
paw as he flayed his battleaxe left and right, while Auma was creating havoc with a billet of ashwood she
was using as a club.
“Get Tim behind my father. Quick, take that, you robed vermin!” Auma shouted.
Orlando glanced anxiously at the causeway steps. “Here comes another wave. There’s more pressing up
from below. Listen, they’re chanting something!”
Sam Squirrel vaulted across like an acrobat. He leapt to the top of the door as Orlando held it upright.
“It’s ‘Redwall’! They’re shouting ‘Redwall’! Mattimeo, it’s your father with an army of slaves!”
Orlando passed his axe to Auma. Grabbing Mattimeo, he lifted him high above his head.
“Tell me, young ’un, is that your father?”
Mattimeo was weeping and laughing aloud as he roared at the top of his lungs:
“Yes! Yes! Redwalllll! No warrior can swing the sword of Martin like him. Father! It’s meeeeeee!”