As the Abbess took charge, the hubbub died down - though the impassioned quarreling and speculating did not. The Abbeydwellers carried it with them to the dormitory, to the gardens and to their workrooms, though they kept their voices low.
Muryet was carried off to Sister Bethelle, who declared that the doors of the Infirmary would not reopen for anybeast till she deemed her patient well and present-minded. A crew of Redwallers, armed with pails of hot soapy water and scrubbing cloths, filled Great Hall to bursting point.
Skipper Johndam, having deposited Muryet in the infirmary, posted his otters and several squirrel archers upon the south wall.
"I talked t' Miz Muryet," he informed Abbess Elinor, when he had a moment of privacy with her, "an' she tells me that was where she found th' arrow an' sack. The scum must've found an elevated spot - a tree, maybe - from which t' do his shootin'. Well, let 'em show their blackenin' mugs about here again if they dare. God knows what sniveling, spineless fools they take us for, but they chose well when they decided t' call themselves 'th' Walkin' Dead'. Let 'em bring their 'orde if they've got one - every single beast!"
Abbess Elinor silenced him with an upraised paw. "Shoot anybeast who threatens the Abbey again of you must, Skipper - but we must all pray that the matter never reaches that point."
Skipper's dark eyes were practically aflame with indignation and disbelief.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mother Abbess, but those black peppered, half-rotten excuses for corpses have declared war on us already! You spoke of a vermin threat earlier. That sack o' plague they sent flyin' into our Abbey and left for any innocent creature t' tear open - that was no threat, that was an attack, plain an' simple! 'ad it not been for that ferret Samuel -"
He caught himself, fell silent for a moment or two.
Then, with uncharacteristic quietness, he went on.
"Miz Muryet took th' thing to Marianne an' th' two ferrets, shoutin' about how it was an artifact that'd change Redwall 'istory forever. It was Samuel stopped the mites from spreadin' all over the place, got Muryet - bless 'er heart, out of 'arm's way for a moment, an' got the youngsters to stop some o' the madness with cider. A moment's 'esitation was all it would 'ave took and we'd 'ave 'ad to fence Cavern 'ole an' Great Hall off for days. Huh, bottles o' cider from Cavern Hole - he's not a slow-witted creature. I knew he was no slouch when he first walked into th' Abbey. S'pose the question is whether that's a good thing for th' Abbey overall, an' what role he could've played in all this vermin insanity that we know naught about."
Abbess Elinor threw up her paws. "What role Master Samuel MIGHT have played in all of this is of little concern to me. Regardless of anything that might have taken place in the past, when he lived amongst the creatures who call themselves 'Walking Dead,' I've no reason to believe that he's conspiring with them now in their efforts to threaten or infect us with rat's fleas; I'm concerned with nothing else. In so far as I'm concerned, Master Samuel is innocent of all of this.
"There is one thing, and one thing alone, that concerns me, and that is the safety of this Abbey. We've enjoyed decades of peace, threatened by no one. Now, almost overnight, we've a pair of ferrets in our midst and an army of vermin who are demanding that we turn them over.
"We've had a plague thrown into Abbey grounds; we are threatened with a horde. If you begin to exchange stones and arrows with these creatures, Skipper, some of our creatures will lose their lives, and if they should find other ways of firing rat's fleas into the Abbey - more dangerous ways, ones that will not require the untying of a sack by a gullible creature in order to be effective . . . Skipper, I am afraid that days of war may lie ahead."
The Abbess's voice nearly gave way as she spoke the last few words, and she sank into her chair, appearing smaller and more frail than ever before.
"I couldn't bear to lose any of our Abbeybeasts. When this season began, and we celebrated its coming, I did not expect . . .would never have guessed that we would be speaking of war."
Skipper Johndam, who had been pacing furiously, slowed now, and, after a few more steps, came to stand behind the Abbess's chair. He rested a big, rough paw upon its back.
"Neither would I 'ave, Mother Abbess. Neither would I 'ave. But then war at Redwall Abbey 'as always been like that. We never get a warning an' we're never prepared. But, as God made me, we always make it through - always, an' should we go t' war now, we'll make it through agin.
"As for the decades of peace - well, they ain't been so peaceful as far as I remember 'em." Abbess Elinor stiffened. "I know, Mother Abbess, that you never forgot wot 'appened to little Fainlie. I tell you that varmint took 'er for a reason, an' he was no lone an' untrained oaf - he was a creature of skill, an' we've never found 'er! An' th' Abbey ain't never been the same since. Miz Muryet's 'alf out o' her mind, our Cellarkeeper's a drunkard, and th' rest of th' Redwallers - well, a sorrier bunch I ain't never seen in all o' my seasons! This ain't peace. It ain't 'appiness. We've got t' learn wot this Walkin' Dead thing is all about, wot they really want an' whether Akil knew 'em, an' we ain't goin' t' do it by tryin' t' negotiate with a grimy piece o' baggage that tells us, 'None o' yore concern' with a sneer on 'is ugly mug, and fires fleas into our Abbey. We'll be dead afore autumn!
"I mayn't be th' best o' chums with those ferrets, an' I may bite my tongue later, but if they 'avent been proven guilty of anythin', as ye said before, Mother Abbess, an' we told 'em they could lodge at Redwall, then wot will we look like t' vermin scum, leapin' t' do anything they please 'cos we're too frightened o' war? 'ow long will we keep that up - 'ow much will they want from us before they're through?"
Abbess Elinor rose, shaking her head slowly, wearily.
"You need not lecture me, Skipper; I understand. But I will not come to a decision till I've spoken to everybeast else. As Great Hall is not safe yet, we will all meet tonight in Cavern Hole."
Skipper began to toy with his sling. "Is there anythin' you need from me?"
"Yes, Skipper." Abbess Elinor inhaled deeply. "Speak to Samuel. Ask him about his settlement. What did the creatures do there? Ask him if he knew a weasel called Akil, or one who had a long snout, a slit in his ear and grey eyes. Ask him if he saw or heard of a squirrelmaid there . . .or any other woodlander captive."

OooooooooOOoooooooOOoooooooOOoooooooooo

As for Salome and Marianne, after bathing thoroughly, they, too, had been confined to the infirmary. Samuel might have been, as well, if not for the fact that he had disappeared, amid the confusion of creatures being cleared out of and away from the entrance of Great Hall. Sister Bethelle, occupied with the preparation of medicine, had not gone to search for him, but she was not pleased.
"Where in heaven's name has that ferret gotten to? I certainly hope he's bathed. There is no telling what might have crawled into his fur when he was in Great Hall. I give my word, I'll kill him myself if he's gone mixing and mingling with the others in this state!"
Salome struggled to sit upright, half drowning as she was in the oversized infirmary robe she had been given. "Samuel ain't daft, Sister Bethelle - wherever he is, he's washed like th' Abbess told him to. Likely he's just in 'is room."
Sister Bethelle sniffed, bringing two earthen mugs around to the bed on which Marianne and Salome sat. Muryet, who was fast asleep now, had been medicated already, and had been examined for flea bites, of which there were none. "I can only pray that he has - I haven't the faintest idea whether he is daft, mad or simply careless. Coming to our Abbey with - with 'Walking Dead' on his heels." Salome flinched. "Throwing himself at a sackful of rat's fleas, having two young, inexperienced, hysterical creatures leap into the midst of it all with bottles of cider - I've never heard of such foolishness. He ought to have used that time to send you both for a crew to fence Great Hall off entirely and have the place cleaned properly while the fleas had not gotten far! And Friar Jerome - well, he's growing no younger as the days pass and I believe it is past time he resigned and was replaced by a younger Friar. The role he's played in all of this is causing me to question his good judgement. Well, Miss Salome, drink the mixture, it will help you to relax and get some sleep. And leave those bites alone; clawing at them won't heal them!"
Salome pushed the mug away. "I can't, they itch - an' I can't drink this stuff!"
Sister Bethelle sputtered with disbelief. No creature, save for the Abbess and the Skipper, had ever dared refuse to drink her medicine.
"Well!"
"It tastes like boiled eels, an' it won't heal th' flea bites, neither - an' I don't feel like relaxin' or sleepin'. I want t' talk t' my brother!
An' you can't say those things about Friar Jerome, I wager he ain't no older than you are, an' his judgement is just fine!"
Sister Bethelle fixed Salome with an icy stare. "I will say what I please, miss, and if you ask me, Friar Jerome was far too quick to befriend and trust a pair of vermin who came in from God knows where, from doing Heaven knows what, and place the safety of an ailing young maid into their paws! I am a good friend of the Abbess, and I intend to speak to her regarding the matter before this day is over, lest she should forget the extraordinary amount of foolishness that the Friar displayed. But all is well - you need not drink my medicine if you do not want it. Know this, though - I will not repeat the mistake that Friar Jerome made. Muryet will be treated properly, and should you leave this infirmary, you will see none of her till she has fully recovered!"
"But that wasn't th' Friar's fault, nor Samuel's - he's a goodbeast an' Friar Jerome knew it! It was all my fault - you cant go after Friar Jerome for that!"
"Rest assured, young maid," Sister Bethelle shot back, "the Friar is not the only creature I intend to 'go after.' Now, do you intend to stay and abide by the rules of my infirmary or will you leave?"
Marianne, sitting beside Salome, had forced a mugful of the vile medical concoction down, and was struggling to prevent it from rising up again even as she spoke. There was a tremor in her voice. "But, Sister Bethelle, marm, please - you cant just shut Muryet up in 'ere . . .like . . .like you did before. She'd shrivel up an' die like a weed in th' dark! I remember th' last time you did it - 'ow pale an' weak she got, an' -"
The frosty gaze swung about and came to rest upon her, silencing her.
"First Salome, then you, Marianne - I've never witnessed such insolence from a pair of youngbeasts in all of my days! But then, Miss Salome, daughter of Matt, you gave the Abbess trouble from the moment you arrived here!"
Salome tried to protest. "But I never meant t' -"
"Don't interrupt me! And Marianne, you have always been bold and meddlesome, bothering yourself with matters that dont concern you! It was because of you, after all, that Muryet left my care to begin with, and it was because of you, I'll bet anything, that she left the gatehouse and was harmed! And now you dare to imply that I could be the cause of her death?"
Salome's eyes grew hotter and damper by the moment. At length, she shoved the bedclothes aside and sprang to her feet, crying, "I can't take much more o' this, I'm leavin'!"
Marianne rose, too. "Salome!"