Beneath the Abbey’s south wall, Foremole Diggum and his team held the lanterns out over the underground cavern. Holding on to the moles’ digging claws, Tansy and Arven leaned out at the edge of the shored-up timber platform that the moles had built at the end of the small tunnel down which they had come. They peered down into the shadowy depths of what appeared to be a huge abyss, wide, dark, and mysterious.

Far below them water could be heard. Foremole tossed a turnip-sized boulder into the yawning chasm. They listened, but only silence followed.

Tansy turned to the solemn-faced mole leader. “Where has that rock gone to?” she asked.

Her question was followed by an echoing distant splash. Foremole shook his head gravely. “Daown thurr summwhurrs, marm, hurr, that’n be’s a gurt deep ’ole.”

They stood awhile, then Tansy backed off the platform gingerly. “Dear me, that’s enough of that! It’s like looking down from a high building and not seeing the ground. I was beginning to feel quite woozy!”

Foremole Diggum and his crew assisted her back to the surface, offering his irrefutable mole logic as he lit their way. “Urr, ’tis better feelin’ woozed up on furm ground for gennel beasts such as ee, marm. Oi thinks us’n’s be ’appier talkin’ abowt et all in ee Abbey, thurr be things oi’ve gotter say regardin’ yon gurt ’ole!”

Intrigued by Foremole’s words, they all followed him indoors.

On entering the Abbey, Tansy walked straight into a dispute that had broken out in the kitchens. Amid much paw-wagging and whisker-twitching, the Abbess placed herself between the dormouse Pellit and a sturdy squirrel called Butty, whom Mother Buscol was training in the ways of the kitchen. Both creatures argued fiercely, glaring truculently at each other.

“I won’t be able to get on with me work, she’ll be in the way!”

“Work? Huh, when did you ever work? You spend half y’time sleepin’ on empty veggible sacks by the back oven!”

“You young skipwaggle, keep a civil tongue in yer head when yore talkin’ to elders’n’betters!”

“Listen, you might be older’n me, but we’ll soon find out who’s better if you call me a skipwaggle again!”

Tansy grabbed a copper ladle and struck it on a cooking pot with a resounding clang. “Silence, please, this instant! Now, one at a time. What’s this all about? Pellit, you first.”

The dormouse adopted an air of injured innocence. “Mother Abbess, all I said was that the bird shouldn’t be allowed to live in our kitchens, ’taint right. For one thing, we need the space in that cupboard for storage, there’s little enough room fer that down ’ere as it is . . .”

Tansy’s hard stare and upraised paw halted Pellit. “You’re speaking in riddles, sir. Butty, begin at the beginning!”

The young squirrel explained as best he could: “Well, marm, ’tis the owl Orocca. She’s been lookin’ ’round the Abbey for somewheres t’put her nest an’ eggs. She searched high’n’low but nowheres suited her until she discovered our kitchens an’ that big corner cupboard where we store apples. Anyhow, me an’ Shad shifted her in there, owl, eggs’n’nest. Then before y’know it, old whinin’ whiskers Pellit is moanin’ an’ complainin’ an’ reportin’ the matter to Sister Viola.”

Redwallers gave way as Tansy swept regally across to the cupboard. She opened the door and was confronted by the great golden eyes of Orocca. The owl snuggled down righteously atop her nest on the middle shelf, and said, “Hmph! You’ve already wrecked one homesite where I lived, now I suppose you’re going to eject me from this one?”

With a wry smile hovering on her lips, Tansy turned to Pellit. “D’you know where an auger or a drill can be found?”

The dormouse answered her hesitantly, “Er, yes, marm, Gurrbowl an’ Foremole Diggum keeps ’em in the wine cellars for borin’ bungholes in barrels, marm.”

Tansy tapped the cupboard door. “Good! Then go and get some form of drilling tool from them and bore lots of holes in this door, so that our guest has plenty of fresh air to breathe in her new home. Well, don’t stand staring, Pellit, hurry along now!”

Turning back to the owl, Tansy bobbed a small curtsy. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. If you need anything at all, just ask. I’ll detail Mother Buscol to take care of you; should you want to leave your nest, I’m sure you’ll be able to trust her to keep an eye on the eggs until you return.”

Orocca blinked rapidly, her head bobbing up and down. “My thanks to you, Abbess. This will be a good warm home for my eggchicks when they break shell. If any of your creatures sees my husband, Taunoc, perhaps they would tell him where I am.”

Craklyn, who had witnessed the quarrel, patted Tansy’s paw admiringly as they made their way down to Cavern Hole. “Well, you took care of that wonderfully, but poor old Pellit’s got a face on him like a fractured tail. Did you see him?”

Tansy folded both paws into her wide habit sleeves. “Actually I’m glad Orocca caused that disturbance. For some time now I’ve been thinking of making certain changes in the kitchens. Mother Buscol is a bit old to be in charge of all the cooking, and young Butty is a good hardworking creature and a fine cook. I think he’ll make an excellent Friar given the chance.”

Craklyn agreed with Tansy, though she had reservations. “What about Pellit? He’s older and has worked in the kitchens longer than Butty. Won’t it cause bad feelings if you promote the young squirrel over the dormouse’s head?”

But like a wise Mother Abbess, Tansy had a reason for everything she did concerning her beloved Redwall. “I don’t think so, Craklyn. The trouble with Pellit is that he’s fat, getting on in seasons, and of course he’s a dormouse. That’s why he’s always nodding off in the warmth from the ovens. If I left him in the kitchen he’d injure himself someday. So I’ve decided that he shall be Viola Bankvole’s new assistant—he’s always chatting to her and hanging about the Infirmary, and the job’s an easy one, so he’ll have plenty of time to rest. Mother Buscol can look after Orocca and the eggchicks when they arrive. That way she’ll be in the kitchens a lot to keep an eye on our new Friar, Butty.”

Tansy spoke to Mother Buscol and Viola, and then to Butty and Pellit, before taking her seat in Cavern Hole. Everyone seemed happy with the new arrangements. Craklyn sat with the other creatures, very impressed with the know-how and wisdom the seasons had bestowed upon her old friend.

*

Word had passed around regarding the chasm beneath the outer south wall, and now everybeast was familiar with the news. Arven opened the discussion.

*

“So now we know what was causing the wall to collapse. I suppose the continuous action of the water wore the ground away and formed the big hole. What d’you think, Diggum?”

“Well, zurr, oi thought the same as ee at furst. But me’n’moi moles, we h’explored ee sides o’ the gurt ’ole, an’ guess wot? Us’n’s found that part o’ ee sides o’ yon pit wurr square stones. Aye, they’m been builded thataway boi summbeasts long gone, hurr!”

This announcement caused a buzz of speculation. Tansy hid her surprise and silenced the gossip.

“One moment, please! Thank you. I was about to say that this casts a whole new light on things, but it only seems to deepen the puzzle. Let us not get carried away with wild speculation, friends. Has anybeast a sensible suggestion to offer?”

Skipper of Otters ventured an idea. “Supposin’ me’n’my crew put some long ropes together an’ went down there tomorrer, marm. We might find where all that water’s flowin’ to, an’ who knows wot else?”

The mole Bunto scratched his nosetip with a hefty digging claw. “Gudd idea, zurr, an’ may’ap ee’ll take a lukk at ee carvens on yon stones.”

Foremole Diggum donned a tiny pair of glasses and peered over the top of them at Bunto. “Yurr, ee never told oi abowt no carven on walls!”

Bunto smiled disarmingly, saying, “Probberly ’cos you’m never arsked oi, zurr!”

Foremole took Bunto’s answer quite logically. “Hurr, silly o’ me. No matter, next toim oi’ll arsk ee!”

That seemed to settle the matter. Tansy looked around the assembly. “Right then, Skipper and his crew will look into it tomorrow. Any more questions, suggestions, or business? Good, then I’m off to my bed. It’s been a long day.”

An amazingly cultured voice rang out from the doorway: “Excuse me, I do beg your pardon for interrupting, but does anybeast know the whereabouts of an owl named Orocca, last seen perched on a nest containing three eggs?”

A trim and very dignified-looking male Little Owl opened the door wide and bowed courteously to the Redwallers. Tansy had long ago given up being surprised by anything; she simply returned his bow with a polite nod of her head.

“Ah, I take it your name is Taunoc, sir. Welcome to Redwall Abbey. This is our Foremole, Diggum, he will take you to your wife. Main kitchen, far corner, right in the apple cupboard. You’ll probably find a dormouse there drilling holes. If he disturbs you, then please send him away.”

The Little Owl bowed once more. “My thanks to you, marm. I bid you a pleasant good night!”

When he had departed with Foremole, there was a moment’s silence. Then both Tansy and Craklyn burst into helpless laughter. “Whoohoohoo! Oh, hahahaha! Great seasons, did you see the face on him, and such beautiful manners. Heeheehee! Oh, dear, what next?”

Craklyn widened her eyes and did a perfect imitation of Taunoc. “‘Last seen perched on a nest containing three eggs?’ Hahahaha!”

Tansy rose, supporting herself weakly on the chair arm. “Heeheehee! No more business! No more questions! No more anything, please! I need my bed! Oh, whoohoohoohaha! Sorry!”

Leaning against each other, Recorder and Abbess left Cavern Hole, tears streaming down their faces as they giggled and whooped.

Bunto looked blankly at Drubb. “Hurr, oi’m glad they’m ’appy, b’aint you?”

“Burr aye, but wot they’m a larfin’ anna chucklen at oi doant know. ’Twas on’y summ owlybird a looken furr ’is missus.”

*

Gradually the spring night cast its spell over Redwall. Lanterns flickered, fires guttered, and a stray draft moved the tapestry in Great Hall before passing on. All was peaceful, calm, from dormitory to cellars.

Beneath the south wall, far down in the stygian gloom of the chasm, something moved. Something cold, slippery, and long . . . Something moved.