The defenders rushed up the stairs into Great Hall.
Three magpies were struggling with the wall fastenings of the heavy tapestry. They ignored the
charging animals, remaining intent on what they were about.
Before the Redwallers had a chance to marshal their forces and open fire, they were beset by birds.
Rooks hurtled down from the galleries, pecking and clawing. General Ironbeak and Mangiz, leading a small
force, dropped down behind them. Amid the confusion. Constance saw what was happening: Ironbeak was
trying to cut off their path back to Cavern Hole. She whirled, dealing a rook a heavy blow that sent it
spinning as it buried its claws into her neckfur.
“Back, back. Return to Cavern Hole, everybeast. Hurry!” she ordered.
Two rooks were trying to drag Sister May off by the back of her habit, but John Churchmouse thwacked
them soundly with a javelin.
“Gaahh, scat! Come on, Sister, follow me!” he cried.
Calmly the little Sister shot off an arrow. “Got him! Ha, he won’t sit down for a season. Take that, you
horrible bird! Oh, right. Come on, Mr. Churchmouse, I’ll protect you.”
Ambrose Spike took a run at a group of birds who were attacking Cornflower. Curling himself tight, he
went spinning into them like a flying ball of needles, and they rose to the air, squawking.
Constance lashed about with a frying pan, the weapon making a loud bong every time she scored a hit.
“Get out of our Abbey, you scavengers!”
Bong!
“Look out behind you, Abbot!”
Bong!
Constance hurtled at Ironbeak and Mangiz. The sight of the large badger with teeth bared made them
jump to one side. She growled and snarled like a wild beast, charging them recklessly so that they had to
take to the air. The other birds followed their leaders’ example.
Winifred the Otter saw the way clear to Cavern Hole.
“This way, everybeast!” she called.
They clattered down the stairs and slammed the table back into position and not a moment too soon.
Ironbeak saw his trap had been foiled and he chased several birds down the stairs.
“After them! They must not escape!”
Winifred and Constance were waiting.
“Now!”
Two javelins shot from the arrow slits in the barricade. One rook fell slain. Another took the javelin in
his leg. Hopping and cawing, he followed his fellow fighters up the stairs in a hasty retreat, the javelin
clattering and dragging from the limb it had pierced.
Ambrose Spike pushed a form up to the defences. “Stand on this, you archers. See if you can fire across
at those magpies.”
Several of the Brothers and Sisters took their place and began loosing shafts at the thieves. The arrows
fell miserably short, though they did have the effect of deterring other attackers from coming down the
stairs.
Constance slammed a heavy paw against the wall. “The thieving, pilfering barbarians, how dare they
steal our Warrior’s tapestry!”
Foremole tugged at her fur. “ ’scusin’ oi, marm. Whoi doant ee use our tunnels?”
“Tunnels? But how? What good would that do?”
“Hurr, you’m could come at um throo main door. They baint be aspecten that.”
“Of course. What a great idea!” Constance exclaimed. “Half of you stay here with the Abbot, I’ll take
the rest through the tunnel to the nearest exit outside. If we’re sharp enough we can launch a surprise
attack on those magpies, seize the tapestry, and go out of the Abbey and straight down the tunnel back to
here. Come on, Winifred, Ambrose, Cornflower; and, Foremole, would you come too with some of your
moles?”
“Surpintly, marm. Uz’ll give um boi okey, hurr that uz will!”
“I come, I come. Me too!”
“Nay, young maister Rollyo, you’n stay boi yurr an’ shoot arrers.”
Quickbill and his brothers were loosening the final fastenings, General Ironbeak and his fighters were on
the floor of Great Hall, and they hid each side of the wall at the top of the stairs, waiting for another foray
from Cavern Hole.
“Chakka! Block these stairs well next time, and we will have them out in the open. You, Grubclaw, and
you, Ragwing, stay by me. Try to get the big stripedog in the eyes.”
Diptail and Brightback undid the last loop from its hook on the wall. The large tapestry slid down to
the floor.
“Yaggah! We have it, brothers!”
“Redwaaaaall!”
Constance came thundering down upon them from the open doorway. Diptail lost his proud tail
feathers with one sweep of a blunt paw. Brightback and Quickbill shot into the air like startled flies.
Cornflower, Ambrose and Winifred hurriedly rolled up the tapestry while Foremole and his crew stood
whirling slings.
Mangiz spotted them. “Kragga! The earthcrawlers are over there, Ironbeak!”
The raven General sprang forward, followed by his rooks. Unwittingly they exposed their backs to the
stairs. A hail of arrows and slingstones from the barricade behind them caught the birds unawares.
Ironbeak dodged out of the line of fire, his eye smarting from a pebblestone.
“After them! This way, you wormheads, away from the stairs!”
They were halfway across Great Hall when the main door slammed and the tapestry rescue party were
gone.
The fuming Ironbeak laid about with his hard yellow beak.
“Useless, stupid blunderers! Worthless, clumping idiots! Where are those chicken-hearted magpies?
Quickbill, take those blockhead brothers of yours outside and see where the earthcrawlers have got to.”
The Abbot smiled with pleasure and relief as the long roll of tapestry was fed out of the hole by the moles.
“You acted courageously, my friends. Martin is certainly back among us.”
Cornflower turned to Foremole. “Is there a tunnel through to my gatehouse cottage?”
Foremole tugged his snout. “Aye, missus. Oi dug it meself.”
“Splendid. Sister May, would you come with me tonight? We may as well make use of the tunnels. I
have an idea. It may not defeat Ironbeak, but it will certainly give him and those birds something to think
about.”
Baby Rollo rolled himself in the tapestry and giggled as Gaffer mole tickled him. John Churchmouse
looked severely over the top of his glasses.
“Come out of there this instant, Rollo. What would Martin think?”
Mrs. Churchmouse chuckled. “He’d probably think it quite nice to have some company after hanging
alone on the wall all that time.”
General Ironbeak was in a fine fit of rage as he stalked up and down the sickbay and the infirmary. Mangiz
and the three magpie brothers stood stock-still, waiting for his wrath to unleash itself upon them. They had
failed to find any trace of the exits and entrances to the cunningly dug mole tunnels.
“Kacha! You slugbrained dolts, do you mean to tell me that you could not find a few creatures carrying
the big cloth?”
Quickbill looked down at his claws. “We searched, we looked everywhere, Ironbeak. There was not a
sign of any creature.”
“Not a sign? You speak foolishness. They are earthcrawlers, not birds. They could not fly off into the
blue. Where did they go?”
“The big stripedog charged us, General. We could not fight it. By the time you sent us outside, we could
not find any trace of them. We did not expect them to come through the doorway like that. You were
supposed to have them penned up in that place by the stairs.”
Ironbeak moved like lightning. He pulled Quickbill up against the wall and felled him with a sharp