It was dead of night when Cluny’s horde moved out of the meadow. Around the embers of each campfire bundles of grass and twigs had been wrapped in blankets. To the unsuspecting sentries on the wall the bundles looked like sleeping forms: they sensed nothing amiss. The horde circled northwards through the meadowlands until Cluny judged they were far enough from Redwall to escape detection. He crossed the road at the head of his army.