Cluny gave the point a light jab. Hugo gurgled unhappily. ‘You see? All it takes is a little harder push and he’s dead. Now throw down your sword and get down here yourself, quick.’
Matthias peered over the rim of the Joseph Bell.
‘All right, rat, you win. But how do I know you’ll keep your word? First let the friar go, then I promise on my honour as a warrior that I’ll come down.’
Cluny grinned wickedly. There it was again, that stupid thing called honour, the code of the warrior! But it was not his code: he had won!
‘Get out of my sight, you snivelling little wretch,’ he grated, thrusting Friar Hugo away from him. The frightened mouse dived back underneath the stairs. Cluny stood in the centre of the room, his one eye straining to catch sight of Matthias in the belfry. Blood dripped from the dozen wounds the mouse warrior had inflicted upon him during the course of their battle. But now he knew he had won; the voices had been right; he would soon see the last of the mouse warrior.
‘Come on down, mouse, Cluny the Scourge is waiting for you,’ he cried.
Matthias stood up on the wooden beam. With one mighty blow from the blade of the ancient, battle-scarred sword he severed the rope holding the Joseph Bell.
It appeared to hang in space for a second, then it dropped like a massive stone.
Cluny remained riveted to the spot, his eye staring upwards. Before he had time to think it was too late….
CLANG!!!
The Joseph Bell tolled its last, huge knell. The colossal weight of metal smashed Cluny the Scourge flat upon the stone floor of the bell tower.
Wearily Matthias the Warrior descended the spiral stairs, sword in hand. He led the sobbing little friar out of his hiding place. Together they stood and stared at the Joseph Bell where it lay, cracked clean through the centre. From beneath it there protruded a bloodied claw and a smashed tail.
Matthias spoke, ‘I kept my promise to you, Cluny. I came down. Hush now, Friar Hugo. It’s all over now. Wipe your eyes.’
Together the friends opened the door and walked out into the sunlight of a summer morning.
Redwall had won the final battle.
The bodies of both armies lay scattered thick upon the grass and stones where they had fallen. Many were sparrows, shrews, and woodland defenders, but they were far outnumbered by the slain rats, ferrets, weasels and stoats. Nowhere was there one of Cluny’s infamous horde left alive.
Constance ambled up, her big flanks heaving, covered in wounds. She pointed to the bell tower and uttered a single word.
‘Cluny?’
‘Dead!’ Matthias replied. ‘Were all the horde slain? Did we take no prisoners at all?’
The badger shrugged wearily. ‘A lot of them tried to escape. We didn’t really stop them. They managed to unbar the main gate and ran out into the road. There were a big ginger cat and a white owl waiting for them. Hell’s whiskers! I’ve never seen anything like it!’
Basil Stag Hare limped up and threw Matthias a wobbly salute. ‘Squire Julian and Cap’n Snow. You can talk to them later on, young feller. Right now you’re needed over in the cloisters. It’s the Abbot. Better hurry.’
As fast as their tired limbs would allow them, Matthias, Constance and Hugo went together.
Abbot Mortimer lay in the cloister gardens surrounded by his mice and woodland friends. Everyone was there, from Queen Warbeak and Log-a-Log to Cornflower and Silent Sam, down to the humblest mouse. The poison barb on Cluny’s tail had done its deadly work. The Father Abbot was dying.
Respectfully, the ranks opened to allow Matthias and his companions through. Constance knelt to cradle her old friend’s head, Matthias gently clasped the wrinkled careworn paw. The Abbot smiled fondly at his young mouse.
‘Matthias, my son, I see you have restored the sword of Martin to our Abbey. Is your mission completed then?’
Matthias rested his forehead against his Abbot’s paw. ‘Yes, Father, Cluny the Scourge is dead. I have done my task.’
The Abbot nodded slowly. ‘So have I, my son, so have I.’
‘Father Abbot, you must live,’ said Constance in a gruff, choking voice.
The Abbot’s old face broke into a weak smile. ‘My old friend, I am not like the seasons. I cannot go on forever. It has to finish sometime.’
The tears rolled down Matthias’s cheeks. He could not stop them. The Abbot patted his paw kindly.
‘Ah, Matthias, Matthias, the brave one; wipe away your tears, my son. Death is only part of life. Tell me, can you see the late rose?’
Matthias dried his eyes on the Abbot’s wide sleeve. ‘Yes, Father. It is in full bloom now.’
‘And are all the little roses as red as blood?’ said the Abbot.
‘They are, Father,’ Matthias answered.
The Abbot sighed. ‘It is as it was meant to be. Is Brother Alf nearby?’
Brother Alf knelt before the Abbot.
‘Ah, Brother Alf, my old and valued companion. When I am gone to my rest you will take my place as Abbot. You are a wise and compassionate mouse. I know you will look after my creatures for me.’
Abbot Mortimer closed his eyes for a moment before carrying on with his final instructions.
‘What a great pity that it took so much bloodshed to unite us all. Henceforth the sparrows may come and go as they wish. They must share our food and use our Abbey, not only the roof but all of it. These good Guerrilla Shrews also – no longer will they be as gypsies roaming the woods: they will have a proper home here at Redwall. And now, Matthias my son, I must tell you my decision regarding you. It is my wish that you do not enter our order as a brother!’
A gasp of surprise arose from all those within hearing range. Matthias bowed his head. He was stunned by his Father Abbot’s words.
The Abbot continued. ‘No, my son. Your heart is far too brave. This Abbey needs you, but not as a Brother. Therefore, I name you Matthias, the Warrior Mouse of Redwall, champion of our order. From this day you will defend this Abbey and all of its creatures from evil and wrong. Your sword shall be known far and wide as “Ratdeath”. Now, Cornflower. Where is little Cornflower?’
The young fieldmouse came. She stood by the Abbot waiting upon his word.
‘There you are, dear Cornflower,’ the Abbot smiled. ‘A warrior needs a good wife. You are the beauty that will grace Redwall and rule the heart of our Matthias. The old gatehouse will be extended into a proper home. It belongs to you both. Guard our threshold wisely and well.’
There were no words to express the feelings of Matthias and Cornflower. They could feel the joy and pride singing from their hearts.
The Abbot looked up at Constance. ‘And you, my oldest friend. Do me one last service. Lift my head a little and I will tell you what my failing eyes can see before I leave you.’
Obediently the badger raised the Abbot’s head.
‘Ah yes, I see the most beautiful summer morning of my life. The friends I know and love are all about me. Redwall, our home, is safe. The sun shines warmly upon us. Nature is ready to yield her bounty again in plenty this autumn. I have seen it all before, many times, and yet I never cease to wonder. Life is good, my friends. I leave it to you. Do not be sad, for mine is a peaceful rest.’
Thus did Mortimer, the Father Abbot of Redwall, die.
ONE YEAR LATER.
The following is an extract from the annals of Redwall by John Churchmouse. It was he who took over as recorder from Methuselah. Here is part of his written record:
It is the Summer of the Talking Squirrel!
Only yesterday the young one known as Silent Sam was heard to speak. He was heard conversing with the son of Matthias and Cornflower. The young squirrel suddenly began to relate the saga of the late rose summer wars to the baby mouse. I fear that we will not be able to stop him talking, or his parents laughing with delight. The son of our warrior is a strong chubby little fellow. Everyone calls him Mattimeo because ‘Matthias Methuselah Mortimer’ is too big a mouthful, but that was what h
is parents wished his name to be. Even now he tries long and often to lift the great sword Ratdeath. I think one day he is sure to succeed his father as Abbey Champion. Our Abbot, Mordalfus (no wonder he always preferred the name Alf, I mean, Mordalfus?) has declared that his first anniversary shall be marked by a huge feast. We are all invited. Constance has been pulling her cart around the woodland and meadows far and wide, bringing in guests.
The Guerrilla Shrews are out collecting honey from the bee folk: they have struck up a great friendship with the bees, even learning their language so that they can argue with them. The Sparra Queen Warbeak has appointed herself deputy to Friar Hugo. She shows a great interest in the culinary arts, though I fear she will grow quite fat before too long. Lady Cornflower is out in the meadows with Mrs Churchmouse my wife and Dunwing the Sparra Queen Mother. They are gathering flowers for the tables. All about me the June sunshine is like liquid gold!
Basil Stag Hare has gone off on a journey to bring his friends Captain Snow and Squire Julian Gingivere back to the Abbey with him. Basil is ignoring the fact that it is the Abbot’s anniversary. He constantly refers to it as ‘A Regimental Reunion Dinner’. Winifred the otter, and the beaver, in company with that reprobate Ambrose Spike, are testing the quality of the October nutbrown ale. It must be particularly fine this year, judging from the sound of many rowdy ballads issuing from the wine cellars. Plumpen and his family of dormice are helping the Foremole and his crew dig a roasting pit. Early this morning our Father Abbot went out fishing with Matthias the Warrior. They consider it no less than their bounden duty to bring back a larger fish than last year. The Joseph Bell which was broken has been recast into two smaller bells. I can hear them now. They are named Matthias and Methuselah. My twin Churchmice, Tim and Tess, are grown quite sturdy over the past year. They are our Abbey bellringers, and a splendid job they make of it too!
The crops are growing well. The fruit trees and bushes in the orchard show much promise. The old gatehouse is now a beautiful rambling cottage. The grass is green, the sky is blue, and the honey sweeter than ever before. I will finish my writing now and go to prepare myself for tonight’s festivities, which will be held in their usual place, at Cavern Hole in Redwall Abbey. Please be sure to visit us if ever you are passing.
John Churchmouse (Recorder, formerly of Saint Ninian’s)
Here ends the story.
The Backstory
Learn to make a Redwall Abbey recipe
Who’s Who in Redwall
Matthias: the young hero of our story, who starts out a mere mouse and ends a hero of all the creatures of Redwall and the surrounding forest.
Brother Methuselah: the wise gatekeeper mouse of Redwall Abbey, very learned and still sharp, despite his advanced years.
Abbot Mortimer: Abbot of Redwall Abbey.
Cluny the Scourge: quite the evilest rat who ever lived, whose next target is none other than Redwall Abbey!
Cornflower Churchmouse: a beautiful young mouse. She is a talented cook who also has the instinct of a warrior.
Constance: a brave, noble badger. One of Redwall’s best fighters.
Basil Stag Hare: a true eccentric and an unexpected hero with an enormous appetite.
Jess Squirrel: a gifted climber, a courageous warrior and partner-in-crime to Basil Stag Hare.
Silent Sam: Jess Squirrel’s baby son. Silent but sharp!
Redtooth, Darkclaw, Cheesethief, Mangefur: ill-fated seconds-in-command to the great Cluny the Scourge.
Asmodeus: a very powerful, very dangerous snake.
Warbeak: a young sparrow who Matthias befriends.
Dunwing: Warbeak’s mother, a widowed sparrow who proves to be key in Redwall’s fate.
Cap’n Snow: a military minded owl, who eats mice like Matthias for breakfast.
Log-a-Log: a senior member of the Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower.
Squire Julian Gingivere: a magnificent ginger cat, who has had a quarrel with Cap’n Snow.
Martin the Warrior: a mouse who lived at the time the Abbey was founded. He single-handedly drove off the Abbey’s enemies, but then transformed into a mouse of peace. He is revered by the present-day occupants and some think his spirit guards the Abbey.
Brother Alf: a senior monk and great fisherman.
Friar Hugo: the Abbey’s chef.
Ambrose Spike: a hedgehog who is very fond of nutbrown ale.
Winifred: an otter who helps to defend Redwall Abbey.
Foremole: the mole in charge of excavations and tunnelling.
Sela and Chickenhound: an old vixen (female fox) and her son. She is a healer, but is also a very cunning spy and seller of secrets. Chickenhound thinks he is a very clever and cunning fox.
Guosim: a shrew, president of the Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower. Do you see how he got his name?
Test your knowledge of Redwall
(Turn to the back for answers. No cheating!)
1) Which animals dress up as clowns for the Jubilee Feast?
2) ‘Nobody was sure if he was rat or weasel or even a bit of both.’ Which creature does this describe?
3) How did Cluny lose his eye?
4) What is the name of Sela the Fox’s son?
5) How many full moons are there in a year, according to Constance?
6) Matthias brings King Bull Sparra a snack that he is very fond of. What is it?
7) What is the name of the great bell of Redwall Abbey?
8) What are the four movements that Basil teaches Matthias in order to cross a field without being seen?
9) Who appears in Cluny the Scourge’s dreams, and why?
10) What flavour is the soup which proves so important in defeating Cluny the Scourge’s siege tower?
Design your own historical tapestry!
The tapestry that hangs in the Great Hall of Redwall Abbey is very important to everyone who lives in, and loves, the Abbey. It is a way for the creatures to understand the history of the Abbey and the importance of its peaceful mission. In Medieval times, many great institutions such as abbeys had tapestries which could tell stories in picture-form to help those who couldn’t read.
If you made a tapestry of your life, what would be in it? Would it have animals as well as humans? And things, too? Books? Clothes? Toys? Houses?
Take a big bit of paper, and lots of colouring pencils. Draw out your tapestry, and ask your parents about your family history so you can add bits of the past to sit alongside bits from your present. If you need inspiration, look at the famous Bayeux Tapestry, which tells the story of the Battle of Hastings. More information can be found here: www.bayeuxtapestry.org.uk
A recipe from Redwall
Food is a very important part of Abbey life, and there are all sorts of delicious dishes, most of which might not be as delicious for humans as they are for mice, badgers, otters and hares. Here is one that might be – a simple recipe for baked apples, perfect after a day of adventuring in the forest. There is enough here for four very hungry people, or six very hungry children, or ten very, very hungry mice.
Ingredients
4 large cooking apples, peeled and cored, then cut in half
4 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
8 teaspoons butter
½ mug of apple juice
1) Place apples in square baking dish, skin-side down.
2) Mix brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg together in a small bowl.
3) Spread about ½ tablespoon sugar mixture on top of each apple half.
4) Top each apple half with 1 teaspoon butter.
5) Pour apple juice round the apple halves.
6) Bake for about 50 minutes at 200ºC.
What does that word mean?
basilisk stare – a cold hard stare like the deadly stare of the mythical reptile
bilked – cheated
consternation – dismay and confusion
cruets – sets of small containers h
olding salt, pepper, vinegar and oil on the dinner table
dollrag – a tatty cleaning cloth
fulcrum – the fixed point on which a lever is supported and pivots
garrulous – talking too much and too fast
halloo – a call to attract attention
juggernaut – a huge lorry or truck
legerdemain – the skilful use of hands in conjuring tricks
mutiny, insubordination – an open rebellion against authority or orders, particularly in the military
novice – a trainee monk or nun who hasn’t yet taken their vows
obsidian – glass-like rock formed from lava
palliasse – a large sack stuffed with straw to make a mattress
pièce de résistance – the very best
poleaxing – knocking down with a violent blow
post haste – with great speed, immediately
poultice – a moistened mixture of bran, flour and herbs, applied in a cloth to parts of the body to relieve inflammation
rout – a complete defeat; a disorderly flight from battle
speculation – guesswork
stygian – very dark
thrust and parry – an attack, for instance with a sword, and the deflection of that attack with a counter-move
Answers to the Redwall quiz – how did you do?
1) Otters
2) Shadow
3) In a battle with a pike, which he eventually killed
4) Chickenhound
5) Thirteen
6) Candied chestnuts
7) The Joseph Bell
8) Zig-zag, crouch, wiggle and weave
9) Martin, the great ancient warrior of Redwall, who protects the Abbey from beyond the grave
10) Vegetable
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