"No, that would not have been possible, Columbine. There was very little local
stone around the Loamhedge area."
Columbine put the roots aside and looked at the drawing with renewed interest.
"Then this great house is not just a dream. It could be built if we had the
right material and location, plus, of course, die creatures to build it."
Germaine nodded decisively, spreading the plans out be-tween them. "Oh yes,
indeed. Let me explain. This would not be a mere house. The building I am
planning will be a real Abbey for all our woodland friends who wish to live
there, a peaceful place where all would exist in happiness."
"How lovely. Tell me more about your Abbey," Columbine said excitedly.
The old Abbess explained eagerly, pleased to have Columbine showing interest
in her brainchild.
"See here, this is the outer wall, with its gatehouse, small wicket gates and
big main threshold. Here is the main building—bell tower, Great Hall,
kitchens, dormitories, infirmary, store rooms, cellar spaces ... I have
thought of everything that a proper Abbey needs. These areas around the large
building are enclosed within the main walls—they are orchards and fields to
grow crops in, a pond, and everything it
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would need to be self-supporting. This is a dream that could become reality if
Mossflower were freed."
Columbine gazed in wonder at the well-outlined plan. "You say it could become
reality?"
"Oh yes." The old Abbess nodded emphatically. "When we first saw Kotir I
noticed that though the stones were darkened and slime-covered, it had been
built of red sandstone. There are outcrops of it all over the Mossflower area.
Yesterday I crossed the River Moss on a log, and there is an old quarry over
there. We could hew an endless supply of good stone from it."
"A beautiful dream Abbess, maybe someday—"
"Abbess, Columbine, hurry up, we've made you a lovely cheese and apple salad,
but Coggs says he'll eat it all unless you come right away," Spike said
breathlessly as he and Posy dashed up. Sandingomm followed, looking
mock-seriously at the two mice.
"I think you'd better do as they say, Abbess. I'll go and get Uncle Gingivere.
We don't want him to miss his salad because of that fat little Coggs."
Germaine allowed Spike and Posy to help her up.
"Cheese and apple salad—my favorite," she told them. "Lead me to it. I'll show
that wretch Coggs a thing or two about putting salad away. Did I ever tell
you, when I was a young mouse long ago, I once ate three great bowls of cheese
and apple salad at a sitting?"
"Oh, hahaha. Then why aren't you tat like Coggs? He says he's not going to
stop eating until he's twice the size of Skipper."
"What d'you mean, twice the size? My goodness, look at you, young Posy. You'll
be bursting out of your fur soon."
"Hahaha. Oh, stoppit, Abbess. That tickles. Haha-heeheehee!"
The first Kotir soldiers were hauled dripping to shore by the woodlanders.
Dispirited, disarmed and soaking wet, they were made to sit at the water's
edge by Skipper and the six hares, who fished them out with fearsome-looking
pikes. "Sit down there, you great wet weasel." "Steady on, Trubbs old chap,
that's a stoat." "Oh, I say, sorry. Sit there, you soaking stoat."
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"Saturated stoat, don't you mean, old bean?"
"Hmm, what about the weasels?"
"Oh, actually they got wringing wet, both begin with W, you see."
"Righto. Sit over there, you wringing wet weasel."
"Oh golly, IVe got a rat now. How d'you address these blighters?"
; "Easy, old thing—rats are rancid." ~ "Rancid? That doesn't mean wet."
"No, but the wretched cove does look pretty rancid."
"So he does. Splendid. Sit here, you rancid rat!"
Skipper patrolled the ranks of defeated troops and eyed them sternly.
"Sit tight, vermin," he said sternly. "Keep your paws on your heads, where I
can see them. First one to make a funny move goes straight back into that
water on the end of a pike. Understood?''
Young Dinny and Ben Stickle fed them bread and milk.
"Here you blaggards, eat this and drink up. Though the way you've behaved
toward us, we shouldn't be giving you anything."
"Hurr, too roight. Oi'd give' 'ee ditchwatter an' frogtails ifn oi 'ad moi
way."
A weasel tried to snatch the bread from a stoat. Dinny cuffed him soundly
round the ears with blunt digging claws. "None o' that yurr, please, or oi'll
sett 'ee atop o' yon cat-tingpult an' shoot 'ee into middle of 'ee lake," he
threatened.
There was no fight left in the vanquished Kotir troops. Most of them looked
grateful to be fed and treated civilly by their captors. Lady Amber and her
archers sat in low boughs, bows and arrows ready in the event of an uprising.
Martin was otherwise engaged. He made his way further along the bank, away
from the bustle and noise. Standing at the north edge of the lake, he watched
Tsarmina's progress in silence. The wildcat Queen was obviously making her
escape bid, leaving her army to its fate. She paddled between Kotir and the
shore, whilst behind her the fortress crumbled and splashed into the water
under the ballista's constant bat-
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tering. The wildcat Queen floated steadily toward land on the upturned table.
Martin drew his sword. "Boar the Fighter, help me this day," he whispered,
remembering its maker. Then the warrior mouse limped along the shoreline as
fast as his injured limb would permit, on his way to intercept the enemy.
Tsarmina paddled in to land and sprang ashore. Ignoring the activity on the
east side, she stared miserably at Kotir. There was no further need of rock
missiles; the flood had done its work. With a rumbling crash, the last of the
roof caved in. The whole structure disintegrated, splashing into the great
lake. There was a boiling of muddy brown bubbles, then the lake surface went
still under the gray midday sky, rippled only by the soughing wind.
Kotir was gone from sight forever!
Tsarmina threw back her head in an anguished yowl and ran to the water's edge,
drawing back swiftly as the wetness touched her paws.
"I have kept my promise to you, cat. Kotir has fallen!" A stern voice called
out from behind her.
The wildcat Queen froze, fearing to turn around.
"Gingivere, is that you?"
Martin strode to the water's edge and stood a short distance from his mortal
enemy.
"I am Martin the Warrior, son of Luke, friend of Boar the Fighter."
Tsarmina turned to face her foe. "So, it is you. Well, my little warrior,
where are your woodland allies? Not here to help you?"
Martin leaned upon his sword. Now that the moment had arrived he felt only
contempt. "Tsarmina, you are the Queen of an underwater fortress, Ruler of the
fishes.'' His voice had a mocking ring to it. "Cat, you are scum, floated
ashore on an upturned kitchen table, nothing more!"
Stung by the scathing insult, Tsarmina gave a scream of rage, and dived
straight upon Martin. Digging her claws into his back, she gave a mad yell of
triumph, which was swiftly followed by a howl of pain as the keen blade
slashed her ribs to the bone.
Martin winced as he swung his sword. Feeling Tsarmina's
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claws pull free of his back, he stabbed furiously at the great furred bulk of
the wildcat. She leaped back a pace.
Maddened by the same berserk rage that had driven Boar onward, Martin hurled
himself upon the surprised wildcat.
This time Tsarmina took two thrusts in the flank before she raked the