A Murder in the Abbey
"Fenald! Fenald, wake up! This is an emergency," a voice screamed through the door as he pounded on it at the same time. There was a tremor of fear in that tone.
Groaning the mouse rolled out of his bed onto the floor. Grabbing a shirt from somewhere he stumbled to the wooden door and pulled it open a crack to peer into the frightened eyes of a young squirrel. "What is it?" the older mouse asked without ado.
"Abbot Darrin has been murdered," the squirrel said as quietly as possible, but his shrill voice carried.
Fenald hesitated only a beat to slip his shirt on then pulled open the door to his room, and began following the frantic squirrel. "Do we know the cause of death yet, Trebold?" The older mouse asked.
"No, sir, only it doesn't look like it was done by any weapon," the squirrel replied weakly.
A few seconds later found the pair at the door to the Abbot's bedroom with two other creatures standing outside the hall: the badger mother and Skipper. The door stood open. Fenald wrinkled his nose as a slight breeze blew into the hallway from the Abbot's room and slowly walked in, peering around; Abbot Darrin lay peacefully in his bed seemingly asleep, yet a slight groove in his expression told of the pain he felt before slipping into the Dark Forest.
"Father," the warrior intoned quietly, bowing his head in mourning and respect. "I am sorry to see you were not our leader and guidance for long. This is a great loss Redwall has suffered."
He stayed there looking down until the badger mother came up behind him and placed a paw on his shoulder. Fenald started beneath it, but did not turn to meet her as he gathered his composure. "Do we have suspects? Evidence?" He asked in a solemnly urgent voice.
"Well, there is the fox staying here. He's been a flighty and strange one since he came. He has presented us with no reason to trust any excuse he gives of not murdering him. And then there's the manner in which it was done…" The badger mother trailed off as her eyes strayed to the lifeless body of the Abbot. Her eyes were narrowed in barely controlled rage, and her paw clenched the mouse warrior's shoulder unnaturally hard. He waited for her to continue. She was a few minutes, but then she produced what appeared to be a spice shaker and laid it on the Abbot's bedstand, "He was poisoned. I've already identified it as poison hemlock. We know the Infirmary Keeper always keeps a small store on paw for…none of us know what."
"Any other suspects? Was anyone else acting strange the night before?" He asked, staring coldly at the poison that only looked like harmless parsley.
"Well… The gatekeeper was at dinner the other night. Or so the friar tells me; he was also helping to make the dinner! How odd is that?" she replied after loosening her grip from his shoulder.
"Really? I haven't seen him in so long… He usually just takes his meals in the gatehouse, right? No one ever sees him," the warrior muttered more to himself than to her as he slowly thought on this. When he caught her eyes next he said without warmth, "Go get those three now. Take them to Cavernhole. I'll be waiting for them."
She nodded and both departed, but not before the mouse grabbed the spice shaker that was the evidence for the murder. Soon Fenald was down in Cavernhole with the recorder Trebold waiting for the suspects to be escorted forcefully by Skipper, his crew, and the badger mother. Fenald paced impatiently as he waited and only stopped when the frightened voice of Trebold called down to him, "Fenald, they're back. Who do you want to question first?"
"The fox," he replied bluntly and stepped up toward the door. The russet colored creature was escorted down by two burly otters, who were dragging him by his arms as he struggled out of their grasp. And all the while it screeched constantly with only a few coherent words.
"Eeee! Nos, nos! I's did not do its. Eeeee! NOS! I's innocent. Karoff is trustworthy. Eeeee," he cried, and only fell silent when he was placed in the interrogation chair. There he sat trembling and mute, gripping the edge of the seat so hard his knuckles were bloodless.
"You, fox, where were you last night?" Fenald immediately questioned none too friendly; the mouse's face was stone as he stepped up to the visibly cringing creature, blocking the doorway to prevent easy escape.
"I's in the Great Hall! In the Great Hall. Eating and eating and being friendly. I's a good creature just like you," Karoff replied in a squeaky voice hardly any better than the young recorder's shrill tone.
"Where were you in the Great Hall? Were you anywhere near Abbot Darrin?"
"Nos, nos. I's down at the far end. Yiss, I's. I's talking to creatures and eating and being friendly. I's nowhere nears the Abbot. So respectful Abbot," the fox gibbered again.
"Do you recognize this?" The warrior questioned as he held up the spice shaker.
The trembling mostly subsided to be replaced by a genuinely confused face as Karoff blinked at the innocuous object in front of him. "Nos. Whys?"
"Bring the gatekeeper in, Skip," Fenald said in response, gazing down his nose at the pathetic fox in disgust. Both were replaced almost instantaneously, and there was an absence of nervousness from the vole as it scowled moodily. "I was told you were in the kitchen last night helping prepare the food. Is this true?"
"S'what if I was? A beast is allowed to collect 'is own repast every once 'n a while. Jus' 'cause I did somethin' not known of me does not mean I killed yon H'abbot. How was 'e murdered?" The vole queried.
"Poison. By this," the warrior conceded and gestured to the spice shaker on the table.
"Huh, well, I'll clear me name now." The vole then began, "Even if I was in the kitchen last night an' sprinkled that poison onto food he ate, how would I know that was the food he'd eat? I don't. And besides, you'd 'ave more dead creatures than jus' the Abbot if that 'twere the case." He closed his own case with the argument, and the mouse took it in stride.
"Do you have a grudge against the Abbot for something, Nolan?" Fenald asked his final question.
Nolan's expression darkened, "Oh, aye, I have me qualm with 'im. When we was young I was good friends wit a pretty, little maid. He was smitten wit her, too, and eventually won her heart. I ain't ne'er forgived him."
"The Infirmary Keeper," the warrior stated, implying the dismissal of the vole.
The rather thin female hedgehog which replaced the gatekeeper appeared as pale as death, and the atmosphere suddenly increased in hostility and suspicion as though every creature was certain it was her. Fenald noticed the frowning terseness of Skip as he stared accusingly at her.
"Skipper, why do you stare at her so?" Fenald started off as he continued to stare at the sweating Infirmary Keeper.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, for bein' judgemental, but at the time of the guard change I was headin' down the hall of the Abbot's room. I saw 'er comin' out of it. I didn' really think much o' it as I passed an' I bid 'er a good night, but I also saw the body of our Father Abbot. 'E 'ad paw marks around his neck as though 'e were strangled. Was he?" Despite what the Skipper said he seemed confused on what exactly the murder method truly was.
Fenald nodded. "Yes, I saw the same marks on his neck, too. But the poison must play into this somehow. I am not knowledgeable of poisons, and so I have a slim idea of what might've happened, but I can't say for sure. Perhaps he was poisoned first, but when the Abbot only seemed to suffer an illness the attacker came in and finished off the job by strangling him. It would not have been difficult since Abbot Darrin was weakened by the poison," the mouse muttered and he glanced at the hedgehog. "So then, what were you doing in his room in the middle of the night?"
"I was checking on how he was doing as a good Infirmary Keeper would do," she stated.
"In the middle of the night? I don't recall other Infirmary Keepers checking on their patients at such a late hour," Fenald asked coldly with his eyes widened in incredulity.
"That's because our patients are commonly in the Infirmary where no beast who isn't sick should have to be," the hedgehog maid shot back challengingly.
The warrior fell silent with a small half-smile twisting his expression then picked up the spice shaker once more, "Do you recall this at all?"
Annice's eyes narrowed as she studied it then slightly widened in panic before resolutely shaking her head. "Nope, I've never seen it in my life. Why?"
Her stifled reaction was all he need. Lip curling up in disgust and horror the warrior opened it and shook out a small portion of the hemlock onto the table. "What is that! You are an Infirmary Keeper, so surely you would know what that is."
She trembled now as she stared at it and shook her head saying, "Nope, nope, I've never seen that in my life. It's no poison I would know. I don't hand them to my patients."
"Since you're so ignorant of your herbs—what kind of Infirmary Keeper are you!—I'll inform you of it. It's poison hemlock found on the dining table after dinner. The friar did not have a clue as to what it was or where it came from so he left it out. It was near the Abbot's plate and I recall you sitting near it," the warrior said with finality as he brought forth the information he'd found out in the time his suspects were being rounded up.
"I thought it was parsley," she nearly screamed at him. "I offered it to Abbot Darrin to try! I didn't know it was poison."
Fenald's expression twisted, "I know you're lying about not knowing it was poison hemlock. Our badger mother offered that you keep some stocked in your stores just in case. Do you deny it?"
The hedgehog gasped painfully as she tried to breathe, knowing that lying anymore would be fruitless. "Y-yes. I k-keep some in muh-my stores. I didn't bring it out last night! I did not! I have no reason to kill the Abbot!"
"Do you?" The warrior mouse merely asked.
She faltered with her mouth gasping to say words before she eventually shut it. Annice was quiet before she suddenly blurted, "He got me in trouble for handing out hallucinatory drugs to passing seers! I was only fascinated by the subject of seeing into the future, and I thought I would aid them in their own fixation on their profession. But that's no reason to kill! It's just a small offence."
Fenald beckoned and everyone present filed out of the Cavernhole and shut the door. He was opening his mouth to say something when the badger mother tapped him on the shoulder with a serious expression on her fact, "Fenald, I just checked Annice's stores of Hemlock and there is a portion. After further investigating with a lamp and my snout nearly to her desk I found traces of it left over. It looks like it was poured out only yesterday."
"Really?" he asked casting his gaze back to the closed door behind him with an expression between smug and disgusted. "She is full of lies this one." Fenald filled the badger in on what their investigations of the three individuals led to, as well as with the other creatures present. "Should we make a ruling now, or let other Redwallers listen in on what has happened? In any case we'll save that until tomorrow if we do."
"We should grant her a fair trial," the badger replied, but said, "I think she did it though. Why else would she lie about knowing about poison hemlock? It doesn't make sense."
Fenald shook his head. "I don't know. I can't offer an idea as to why. This is a very strange and new experience for me. Oh well, so is it a fair trial?"
"Fair trial," Skipper said for them all and every creature. "But I think she did it, too."
"A fair trial is a fair trial, though. We must present the facts as they are with no inferences. If this is decided then I bid the rest of you a good night. I would like some more rest before the sun rises," Fenald replied though he didn't sound at all tired despite the darker circles under his eyes.
He bobbed his head in respect then turned on his heel and walked stiffly out of the room as a proud warrior. The creatures watching his disappearing figure soon thought, Oh, thank you, Martin, for giving us such a fine warrior to guard justice in our Abbey.
But he was not such an upholder of justice as they thought.
Once out of their view the mouse's shoulders slumped and he had to stop to hold the wall for support as he breathed deep breaths. I never thought I'd pull that off. I thought they'd see it…see right through me. I'm glad my acting is up to par.
Continuing forward he recalled with mild amusement about how he'd nearly lost his mind when he'd heard Skipper's paws walking down the hall he was in. He dodged into Abbot Darrin's room only just in time to elude the otter's acute senses of sight and hearing. Thankfully only a few minutes of breathlessness had finished off the older mouse.
Fenald had been dismayed before turning in after he'd checked on the Abbot to still see him alive after he'd conveniently placed the poison hemlock near his plate. Stupid mouse didn't sprinkle on enough, the warrior thought with exasperation.
He had to admit to himself that putting the herb into the shaker was the hardest bit because of Annice. However he'd distracted her by signing her up to help with the dibbuns that day, knowing she was one of the types to forget not doing that herself. It had worked and he'd been alone in her room with as much time as he needed.
I'll wait a week. Then we're going to Salamandastron as I advised, but Darrin wouldn't listen. Now he doesn't matter, Fenald thought. The crime was regrettable, but if they did not send forces to Salamandastron to fend off the army marching there, then they weren't worthy of being called allies to the Long Patrol.