As her companions watched, Muryet brought a tiny sack into the light.
Its mouth had been tied with a bit of twine, which had been pierced through and pinned shut with an arrow, to which a green handkerchief had been attached.
Marianne gently relieved her of the sack. "Thank you, Muryet. Might I see it?"
No sooner had she gotten her paw around the bottom of the sack than she jumped, tossing the sack to the floor as if it were a hot coal.
"Good God! Why, th' thing's wriggling - as if somethin's alive an' crawlin' about in it!"
Samuel flew into action. He seized Marianne with one paw, shoving her away from the sack, and, with the other, gave Salome such a shove that she went skidding backwards.
"Keep away from that thing, all o' you! Get t' th' kitchen quick as you can an' fetch pails o' water!"
Both young maids stood there, bewildered and uncomprehending.
Samuel swept Muryet up as if she weighed nothing, backing away from the sack, which seemed as if it had indeed come to life. "Devil's egg, Salome, Miz Marianne, go!"
The impact of the sack's landing had caused its mouth to open a fraction. It was a tiny opening, scarcely large enough to be visible, but nothing more was needed. Tiny black specks, like bits of ground pepper, began to leap out, in twos and threes, from that opening.
Marianne tugged at Salome's arm, but the young ferretmaid was rooted to the spot. All color had drained from her face, and her eyes were enormous, fastened to those of her brother. Salome nearly always went into this state when afraid - a huge-eyed, speechless, petrified state - and this fault of hers had always frightened Samuel more than any danger that she had ever been threatened with.
Marianne tugged harder. "Salome, PLEASE! We've got t' get out o' here. Come on!"
Samuel fought to keep his voice low and steady, keenly aware now that shouting at Salome would not help matters. "Miz Marianne, forget Salome; she ain't movin'. I'll 'andle her. You get Miz Muryet's paw."
Quickly Muryet was passed from Samuel's paws into those of Marianne, who, lacking his size and strength, was forced to drag the singing, oblivious squirrelmaid away.
By this time, the fleas were descending down the side of the sack in a sparse, but steady black stream, and Salome had not moved from her spot.
Samuel spoke softly. "Salome . . .baby sister, look at me. You've got t' get out of here before yore bitten. You need t' get water from Friar Jerome so we can drown these mites before they get int' th' corners of this Hall."
The fleas were scattering now, spreading out.
"Samuel." Salome managed to speak now, though her voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "Sammy . . .they're . . . comin' towards you. . . I - I see one. No. . .there's three of them!"
Samuel was removing his tunic. He would not sweep the creatures who had escaped the sack around for fear of scattering them further, but he would drape the garment over the sack and try to crush its inmates with his feet; doubtless he would not succeed in killing or curtailing them all, but anything was better than nothing. "I'm goin' t' be all right; don't fret about me. Just do as I tell you t' do."
Salome shook her head again and again. "No. No, I won't leave! You've got t' get out of here! Sammy, please."
She saw, again, the corpses of rats, weasels and ferrets, piled up with fish bones and fruit cores like so much rubbish, coated with tiny specks of black that never stood still, that gnawed at coats of matted, lifeless fur, desperate for a drink of blood.
"Salome!" Samuel's voice struck like a gavel, jolting her back into reality. "I can't leave this 'all; somebeast's got t' be sure that no east comes in here and no fleas get out. If yore afraid you'd better get movin', 'cos if Redwall Abbey's taken over by rat's fleas, we may be th' first t' be done for! Move - stop th' Black Death!"
At once, life and vigor returned to Salome's limbs. She spun about and fairly flew from Great Hall.
She returned, accompanied by Marianne, with jugs of cider from Cavern Hole. Together, on their knees, they doused the floor, then Samuel's tunic.
When the jugs were empty, and grains of black still leapt from floorstone to floorstone, Salome ran back for more ammunition. Samuel crouched at the entrance of Great Hall, attacking every flea that he saw with a duster.
As Salome returned, Muryet appeared. She attempted to push past Salome and Samuel, demanding a better look at the object that would "change Redwall Abbey history forever," but only succeeded in wedging herself between them, rendering herself immobile. Salome's flasks of cider slipped from her grip and broke upon the floorstones; both ferrets went sprawling, then skidding across the floor and into the lake of cider and fleas that Salome and Marianne had created, upsetting the sack, many of whose contents were still very alive.
"Salome! Master Samuel! Oh, Muryet - no! God in heaven!"
Marianne abandoned her work and hastened over to assist the ferret siblings, only to slip in cider, fall, just as they had, and slash her paws on shards of broken earthenware on the way down.
By this time, Abbeybeasts were forming a crowd outside of the entrance.
Abbess Elinor was at the fore of the crowd, with Skipper Johndam vying for room.
"Master Samuel, Salome, Marianne! What in the name of heaven is this?"
Salome tried to scramble to her feet, but slipped upon the slick stone and collapsed once again. "Please, Mother Abbess, Skipper, all o' you - please dont come in 'ere, there's rat's fleas in 'ere!"
Instantly the Abbeybeasts retreated. The Abbess, however, did not, despite the Skipper's protective grip upon her arm.
"Let me go, for God's sake, Skipper. Rat's fleas! - but what on earth? And why is Muryet in here?"
Marianne pulled Salome upright. "We didn't mean t' let her in here, Mother Abbess, honest! She just came in with th' sack - an' they came crawlin' out and we drowned most of 'em with cider!"
Skipper Johndam released Abbess Elinor as commanded. He strode in, stepping over the cider puddles and the broken flasks, and lifted Muryet into his arms. "Come on, missie, back t' the infirmary with you, right away! All th' rest o' you, clear out an' give us some room."
Abbess Elinor clasped her head as if it were aching. "Muryet brought a sack? What sack and where from? Has the world gone mad? And what do you mean, you've killed MOST of the fleas? We need water, soap and a proper cleaning crew immediately before all of Redwall is infested. I demand you tell me where these rat's fleas have come from!"
Marianne blinked back tears. "I dont know, Mother Abbess, marm, I swear. Salome an' Master Samuel don't know, either - honest, it was Muryet that found 'em."
Samuel managed to get onto his feet and helped Marianne to do the same. Abbess Elinor shook her head, as if she were in the mid of a nightmare from which she could not wake.
"I cannot take much more of this. Master Samuel, Salome, Marianne, you are to leave this hall, make way for a cleaning crew, and bathe thoroughly."
Salome scarcely heard the Abbess, for she was occupied with the sack. The arrow that had been attached to it had been snapped, the handkerchief drenched, but still Salome uncrumpled it and studied it.
Abbess Elinor took a cautious step forward. "Salome, did you hear me, missie? Leave those things alone before harm comes to you!"
"Salome!" Samuel shouted his sister's name so suddenly and so forcefully that even the Abbess jumped.
"Salome - you've been bit on the shoulder! Drop th' handkerchief an' do as th' Abbess is telling you or you'll get bit again, hear?"
But Salome could only stare at the symbol that had been embroidered upon the handkerchief - a silver ring, with an X in its center.
After a long silence, Samuel reached over, and Salome handed him the handkerchief without resistance. He read the writing upon it, beneath the embroidered symbol.
"If you won't give up two ferrets, then you will lose an Abbeyful of woodlanders.
Signed, Rashe, Chief of the Walking Dead."