Chapter 3: Treasures

            In light of all the new visitors, more bedding space was needed. Martin was quick to volunteer to finally move so that somebeast could use what used to be his half of the room. He gathered up his clothes and took them to the tiny chamber adjoining the Infirmary, and then returned for his box of treasures. This was a small box in which he kept the things he held most precious. However, as he carried it into his new room, he tripped on the threshold and sent the objects flying.

            Martin sighed in annoyance at this own clumsiness. He set about picking up the items. There was a drawing of Redwall that Chugger had made for him. There was a poem that he'd written about his beloved Abbey, but had never shared out of embarrassment. It lived in his treasure box because he could think of nowhere else to put it. Denno had drawn a beautiful picture of Martin's parents, which was also in the box.

            He stared at the next piece of parchment for a long time. It was the warning riddle that Poleekin had given them fifteen seasons ago. He'd kept it because it was in Rose's writing, and he had no other memento of her.

            The last item was his mother's treasure bag. It contained her diary (which he had never read out of respect for her privacy), a lovely carved spoon that presumably would have been used to feed him, and her wedding ring.

This ring always vaguely disturbed him. On the inside was carved the name of every creature to wear it for the past five generations. It had been passed from mother to daughter, or, in the absence of a female child in that generation, from mother-in-law to daughter-in-law. After Sayna's name was a small space, intended for Martin's hypothetical sister or wife to carve her name into on her wedding day. The thing that always bothered him was that there was just enough room left on the inside surface for a four-letter name.

The Healer sighed and replaced the beaded bag into his own treasure box. He slipped the box under his bed, into a shadowy corner where none but he could find it.

***

The next day dawned as cold as the last. More snow had fallen during the night. This time, Martin was up at dawn. He sat at a breakfast table with Ballaw, Abbess Germaine, and Skipper. They were discussing the play that the Rambling Rosehip Players hoped to put on.

"Personally, I think 'The Courting of the Frog and the Caterpillar' would be nice," the otter mentioned.

Ballaw swallowed a pastry, reached for another, and said, "Nope, sorry old chap, but we've done that one at the last three bally places we stopped. The troop's rather tired of it, wot?"

Martin grabbed the last pastry from under the hare's nose. "What about a magic show? I heard from Brome that you're good at that."

The hare stared at him. "When were you flippin' well talking to Brome, old chap?"

"Or you could do several small shows," the Abbess interjected, inadvertently saving Martin from having to answer. Hard of hearing as she was, she hadn't heard the hare's question.

Ballaw licked the last of the honey off of his paw as he considered the prospect. "Done! That sounds good." He peered out of the window at the falling snow. "Besides, we might find ourselves snowed in here for a while."

Skipper rose. "Well, feel free to stay for as long as you like, matey. G'day."

***

Martin was organizing the Infirmary, putting all of the herbs, medicines, and books in places that he would find them readily, when Lily came in. Her strange green eyes roved around the small room. The Healer had never seen green eyes on a mouse before. When the mousemaid spoke, she managed to drive a knife into his heart without having known him for more than a day.

"Tell me about my aunt, Uncle Martin."

He turned around. "I'm not your uncle, Lily," he said. The words came out calmly, almost too calmly. "I have to ask you to stop calling me Uncle, and to never do so around Redwallers. Questions might be asked."

She cocked her head in puzzlement. "Why? You could just say that you're a close friend of the family. In some families, close friends of the family are called Uncle. It's true, after all. You are a good friend of the family. Well, not all of it. Not Grandpa. But Grandma, and Papa, and Mum think highly of you. Besides, I like calling you Uncle."

"But I'm not your uncle." He drew a deep breath. "Your aunt and I were never married." His voice was bitter now, bitter with memories. The Healer remembered the one chance he'd had to tell Rose…

It was two hours before dawn. Martin bent over Rose's sleeping form. He touched her shoulder and whispered her name to wake her. The mousemaid opened her eyes slowly, yawned, and asked, "Is it time to go yet?" He nodded wordlessly.

She smiled a little, took his paw, and squeezed it. "Then I'd better go wake Grumm." The moon and fading stars reflected in her hazel eyes for a moment as she stood up, and Martin was struck again with how beautiful she was.

"Rose!" He called after her, knowing somehow that this was going to be his one chance.

The mousemaid turned. "Yes?"

Martin suddenly found that he couldn't say the words. His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, and then the Warrior heard himself say, "Be careful. Please, Rose, don't…don't do anything stupid," he finished lamely.

Rose smiled at him. "Don't worry, Martin. I'll be fine." The Warrior gazed after her, not knowing that he would never see her again.

He shook his head to clear the vision away from his mind's eye. "No, Lily, I'm sorry. I cannot let you call me that. And I can't tell you about your aunt." The Healer's gray eyes were suddenly stormy with long-unshed tears.

His would-be niece shrugged, hopped down from the bed where she'd seated herself, and walked out of the Infirmary.