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Oxeye leaned on his bow, watching him. "Not very friendly those chaps, sir. I take it they want to fight us, wot?" Urthstripe licked blood from his shoulder and grinned at the irrepressible hare. "Good enough, Oxeye you old battler. We'll give them a fight, one that we can talk about in the winters to come, when we're sitting round the fire growing old and lazy." Big Oxeye checked his empty quiver. "Don't mind me sayin' so, M'lud, but there won't be too many around to grow old after this fight's finished!" 16

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Dryditch Fever! The awful name was enough to chill the heart of any crea-ture. A hasty conference was called by the Abbey elders?Abbess Vale, Bremmun, Faith Spinney and Brother Holly-berry, with Furgle the Hermit sitting in on the proceedings. Abbess Vale addressed them. "Friends, if something is not done swiftly this dreadful fever may wipe us all out. Brother Hollyberry, as Infirmary Keeper do you have any knowledge of this illness?"

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Hollyberry pursed his lips. "Mother Abbess, my skills are simple and very limited; tummyaches, headaches, scratches and wounds are what I am used to. I have had a quick look through my medical books, and the opinion of most former Infirmary Keepers is that there is no sure cure for Dryditch Fever. I can keep it under a certain amount of control with my own remedies, but alas I cannot cure it." "Flowers of Icetor, heh heh heh! But that's only an old mousewives' tale. Heh heh heh, Flowers of Icetor indeed!" They all turned and stared at Furgle. The woodland Hermit shrugged as he did a small hopskip. "Never needed anything myself梞edicines, pah! Though when I was young my grandma used to say that the only thing 128 Brian Jacques which could cure Dryditch Fever was the Flowers of lector, boiled in fresh springwater. I think she was mad, of course. Quite mad!"