Matthias's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Matthias followed Abbot Mortimer out of the tapestry room. His green robe dragged on the stone floor. He caught the hem in his paws and hurried to keep up. The old mouse walked slowly, hands folded behind his back. Matthias needed his permission. Without it, he could not leave his duties. Without it, he could not search for the warrior's sword. "Father Abbot, please," Matthias said. "The voice was real. Martin spoke to me. He said his sword shall wield for me." Abbot Mortimer stopped. He turned and looked at Matthias over his small glasses. His brown robe hung loose on his thin frame. He smiled the way old mice smile at small ones. "Martin the Warrior has been gone for many seasons, young one," he said. His mustache twitched. "You tripped and knocked your head. That is all." "I did not knock my head," Matthias said. "I heard him." "You heard the wind in the rafters." The Abbot patted his shoulder. "There is no sword. There is only work. The nut baskets need carrying. The garden needs weeding." He kept his voice soft, but the words closed like a gate. "Put this dream aside. Go back to your chores." Matthias felt his face grow hot. He wanted to argue. But the Abbot ruled the Abbey, and Matthias answered to him. He lowered his head. "Yes, Father Abbot." The old mouse nodded, pleased, and walked on. His sandals slapped the stone. Matthias watched him go until he turned a corner and was gone. Matthias did not go to the garden. He stood alone in the cold hallway. The Abbot had refused him. There would be no permission, no help, no search. He knew now that no elder in Redwall would believe a young mouse about a ghost. He looked toward the great doors of the Abbey. Beyond them lay the red brick wall and its wooden gates. Beyond the gates lay Mossflower, wide and green and full of forgotten places. The sword was out there. He was sure of it. Matthias made his choice in the empty hall. He would not ask again. He would go himself, without leave, and find what the voice had promised. If he was caught, the Abbot would be angry. He might lose his place at Redwall forever. He gathered his oversized robe in both paws and walked toward the doors. His small heart pounded. He was one young mouse against a whole forest, and he had no map and no plan. But asking had failed. Only leaving remained. He pushed the heavy door open a crack. Cold morning air touched his face. The wooden gates stood ahead, shut and waiting. Somewhere a bell rang for morning chores. Matthias slipped through the door and let it close behind him. He had stopped asking for permission. Now he only had to find a way past the gates.