Nobody had seen Oakapple that morning: he hadn't attended the duel. Oakapple was not the sort to shift himself from his homely comforts on just any account, but Reepicheep thought that this duel should have been reason to do so: as a response to an accusation of murder, it was, in a way, a trial that might settle the matter of the young Dryad's death; and Oakapple was of a sufficiently high standing in the Beastly community that he should, at least, shift himself on a matter that might affect that community.
Reepicheep told himself that he should at least see and speak to Oakapple about the duel and what came of it. Not simply because the Badger's absence was curious, though there was the tiniest bit of concern over that, but because the Badger in his wisdom might have counsel to give.
Even as he and Everbright drew within sight of the Badger's home, he felt a queer prickling in the back of his neck, his hackles rising. Something was wrong.
Oakapple's door, a sturdy, reinforced affair nearly as impenetrable as the Valaros farmhouse door used to be, was slightly ajar. Oakapple was one of the few Beasts who kept their doors locked. Reepicheep pushed it open, and whispered to Everbright to wait outside in case of any danger.
Nothing seemed to be amiss at first. The long, narrow entryway was much as Reepicheep remembered from his visit the day before. In the cluttered sitting room, the silver tea service was out, cold tea staining the bottom of one teacup. A single plate, littered with crumbs and smeared with traces of raspberry jam, was set by the teacup. Oakapple himself was on the floor beyond the table, half-hidden by the tablecloth. He had been dead for several hours.
Reepicheep emerged from the sett and pulled the door closed behind him. He said: "Everbright, run and get Mr. Otter and Lord Valaros. Tell them to come here at once. Oakapple's been murdered."
Everbright gave a squeak of fright, and Reepicheep had to repeat his instructions before he dashed off to carry them out. Reepicheep settled into the posture of a guard to wait for Everbright's return.
Beasts tend not to have much in the way of a social hierarchy within the greater community of different species: their leaders tended to be unofficial, stepping in and out of the position as circumstances warranted. Oakapple, by virtue of his seniority, had been the closest thing to a leader up until now; with him gone, it might be a while before another leader naturally emerged from the day-to-day social interactions. Reepicheep understood that by calling for Mr. Otter together with Lord Valaros, he had effectively named Mr. Otter as the current leader and representative of the local Beast community. Whether Mr. Otter remained so was another matter, but, whether the Beasts realised it or not, they needed someone right now who could speak for all of them.
Belatedly, Reepicheep realised that he should have called for the Great Willow as well, but it was too late for that now.
When Valaros and Mr. Otter arrived, they were followed by a crowd of gawking woodland creatures. A pair of Moles went in to bring the Badger out while the rest watched in silence.
Reepicheep was aware of Valaros watching him. He looked up, and the Telmarine Lord squatted down to address him: "My son lies poisoned in my house, from your blade; and now there's this Badger dead, from poison as well by the looks of it. And you were the one to discover the body. I wonder if these things are connected."
"Are you accusing me of murder, sir?"
"I am only stating the facts, Mouse. What do you think it looks like?"
Reepicheep's cheeks burned with fury. He could already hear some of the other Beasts whispering: yes, the Mouse had visited Oakapple yesterday ... but Oakapple had been seen later that evening ... Oakapple, that miserly old skintflint, never took out his silver tea service except for company ... well, he was hardly going to poison himself, was he? Ten to one it was his guest...
Reepicheep drew himself up and declared, as loudly as he could: "On my word of honour, I have nothing to do with this or with the foul poisoning of your son, Lord Valaros. My blade was tampered with before the duel, and I mean to find the one responsible for it. And I will face anyone who dares question my honour, unarmed if need be!" And he looked around the gathered company so fiercely that the whispering abruptly ceased.
"It could still be an accident, sir," came the tremulous voice of one Rabbit. "Perhaps he simply never cleared away the tea things after you visited, and then something got into the tea or whatever it was that he ate."
"Funny that he cleared away all the other teacups but left just the one," Reepicheep replied, though he acknowledged that it was possible. It didn't seem likely to him, but he couldn't deny the possibility.
Oakapple's body was stiff as a board, and he lay where the Moles put him in much the same position as in his living room. Whatever he'd taken had been fast-acting, unlike the poison used on Albian. There were marks about his throat which matched his own claws. Looking down at those claws, Reepicheep spotted something clutched tightly in one. He beckoned Valaros and Mr. Otter over and pointed it out; he would have pried open the Badger's fist himself, but Valaros warned him off.
"Whether I believe you or not is immaterial. What matters is you are a suspect."
Reepicheep bristled. "As are you, Lord Valaros."
"Am I? I doubt I could fit through that narrow, cluttered entryway without knocking everything over."
"Reepicheep was at my place the whole of last night," the Otter interjected. "I'd swear to it if I had to."
Valaros snorted and turned his attention back to Oakapple's closed fist. It was a job to pry it open, but when he did, a tarnished silver medal fell out. Its ribbon was faded and the suspender bar was black with age. Reepicheep, who had made it his business to study such things, recognised it at once as a medal given out for valour after the war with the White Witch, at the beginning of the Golden Age. Had it belonged to Oakapple's unknown guest? No ... Reepicheep was sure he knew where he'd seen it before.
Reepicheep turned to enter the sett again. One of the Moles fell into step behind him, and he understood that even the Beasts were now unsure of him. Much as it galled him, he knew he could not afford to let it distract him from his task: if he was to clear his name, he would have to defer all challenges until after the true villain was found.
Back in the sitting room, near the spot where Oakapple had lain, was a broken frame: the sort of flat display case for showing off medals and the like. Still nestled in the velvet backing were four medals from the wars with the Giants and one from a war with Calormen; three coins commemorating the fifth, tenth and fifteenth anniversaries of the reign of the Four; there was even a set of moulds for medals from a long-ago sporting event, for swimming, archery, and jousting. The medals and coins were all silver. Were they all from the mine of which Oakapple had spoken, which had belonged to his family once upon a time? Oakapple must have meant it as a message, if he'd spent his dying breath trying to get it. Was it only coincidence that he'd grabbed the oldest of these artifacts, or was that the true significance of the medal?