"He went in his room an' locked th' door, Mother Abbess."
Skipper had gone to seek information from Samuel, but the door had, indeed, been locked. An hour of pounding and shouting had been of no benefit.
He stood in Cavern Hole now, across the table from Abbess Elinor, as they awaited the entrance of the other Redwallers. An array of dishes lay between them, but all of the food remained untouched.
"Wot in th' world could that ferret be up to?" Skipper Johndam was frustrated, perplexed and rather sore of paw now.
"It's too early t' be sleepin' - but I didn't 'ear a sound out o' that room. He's got t' be in there, else he wouldn't've locked it, but ye'd think he was dead or deaf for all th' noise I 'eard!"
Abbess Elinor, who had been studying her own paws, glanced up at him now.
"Should I go for a blade an' try t' crack th' lock?"
"No, Skipper Johndam, please don't. I will handle the matter later. What have you heard from the otters and squirrels?"
Skipper Johndam relaxed enough to slide into a chair, though he kept his sling close to his paw, as always.
"They say all 'as been quiet an' peaceful-like - not much more."
"It would put my mind at rest to know that all would remain 'quiet and peaceful -like.' Nothing could be worse than this suspense . . .this uncertainty."
Abbess Elinor rested her head upon her paws. Skipper Johndam, feeling awkward and foolish of a sudden, as he was unaccustomed to such open displays of weariness and near-defeat from his Abbess, could not decide whether it would be more proper to offer a comforting touch or to carry on speaking of formal matters.
"It is strange to me -" Abbess Elinor shook her head slowly -"so very strange for me to know so little where the wellbeing of my Abbey is concerned . . .to see my creatures threatened,and yet. . .to possess so little knowledge about this threat,to be so uncertain, without a hint or a clue, without a plan or a solution . . .so utterly helpless."
"Mother Abbess, beggin' your pardon, but I hate t' 'ear you talk like that. We ain't 'elpless by far." Skipper Johndam tightened his hold upon his sling, and his rudder beat against his chair seat in a tattoo of impatience. "Now if only those slow, lazy lumps o' Redwallers would 'urry up and get in 'ere - though I've made up me mind already what I'll say."
Abbess Elinor stifled a sigh. "I know that you have already decided what you will say, Skipper. And I -"
She was cut off by the abrupt entrance of Sister Bethelle.
"Mother Abbess, Brother Aaron has been drinking again!"
Abbess Elinor lifted her gaze to the heavens, as if praying for a downpour of patience.
"Sister Bethelle, how in the world did he manage to drink? I banned him from the Cellars."
Sister Bethelle folded her paws. "He is awake now; he came to the infirmary in pain. He stole two bottles of wine that Friar Jerome had been keeping for a cake, but it seems that, while drunk, he slipped upon a bit of it that he had spilled, fell, and struck a wall stone with his head."
"Thank you, Sister Bethelle. You've two patients to attend to now, and heaven knows when either of them will recover. If you plan to join us for the meeting, please ask young Chrysani to look after them in your absence, and, after the meeting, have her assist you with anything non-medical that needs to be done; she is a levelheaded young creature, and, to be quite frank, you have been up all night and you are no longer young."
Sister Bethelle started to sputter an indignant protest, but a look from the Abbess silenced her. Abbess Elinor was right; she was in need of an assistant. Once she had hoped that some young Abbeybeast, Marianne, perhaps, or Muryet, would express an interest in becoming assistant healer, but Marianne had failed to finish Abbeyschool and had not been shy about the fact that she preferred the kitchens, and little Muryet had kept herself locked in the gatehouse, away from other creatures till recently, and was in no position now to think of healing others with Sister Bethelle even if she had the desire. Sister Bethelle had offered to mentor any number of young Abbeybeasts, but not a single one had accepted the offer. Now that she had grown accustomed to, and even contented with, being alone, aloof and friendless, for the most part, ruling her little sickbed kingdom and its inhabitants as she pleased, the Abbess must decide that she was too old to manage it without help. Sister Bethelle spun about and left Cavern Hole in a huff.
Abbess Elinor watched as she departed. Sister Bethelle was a good creature, but, because of her closeness to the Abbess, she was unused to being challenged or ordered about as much as the other creatures were. The fact of the matter was that she WAS growing old, and was no longer as levelheaded as she had been.
The Abbess had remarked a moment ago that it was strange to her to be figuratively in the dark where the wellbeing of the Abbey and its creatures was concerned - but she began to wonder now if this was as unusual for her as she had thought.
For a long time she had viewed herself as a vigilant, officious and efficient Abbess, who allowed nothing to escape her notice. But where had she been when Brother Aaron had first begun to drink?
Where had she been on the second day of the summer feast, when, according to Marianne, Muryet had thrown herself upon the ferret Samuel and cried out for him to take her on a stroll through the Woods, threatening to "perish of heartbreak" otherwise because the Abbess that she had not seen in seasons had not come out to preside over the feast?
She had been in her chamber, of course, with the door locked, leafing through a prayer tome, not because she was in a prayerful mood or out of interest in its contents, but so that she would have an excuse for her self-isolation. . . .

oooooOOOOoooooooooOOOOOOooooooooOOOOoooooooooo

When Cavern Hole was filled from end to end, Abbess Elinor rose to speak.
"Creatures of Redwall Abbey, I will not give a speech about all that is happening, as every creature in the Abbey is well aware of it all. As of yet, Skipper Johndam's otters and the squirrels have seen nothing; all has been peaceful and still.
"A few scouts have been sent out to see whether it is possible to track Rashe and his creatures. He claims that he has a horde at his disposal; we do not know how great his numbers are. He has shown us that he has a weapon with which he could begin a plague in Redwall.
"Skipper, the otters and the squirrels have made their decision, but as for me - I will withhold mine and allow you, the creatures of Redwall, to decide with a vote. Will we fight against the menace of the Walking Dead, or will we give Rashe what he demands, knowing that he must have some reason for demanding the release of the two ferrets, rather than riches or goods, and that, should we do as he asks, he might very well leave us in peace?"
Pandemonium broke out in Cavern Hole, with Sister Bethelle crying out, "Do as he wants, for God's sake! Shooting a sack of fleas into Redwall Abbey - what's next? Let the vermin sort out the vermin matters, those ferrets should never have come to Redwall and endangered us all!"
A vole chimed in. "Aye, the otters and squirrels can shoot and throw, let them be warriors if they like! But we Abbeybeasts aren't fit enough to fight against any horde!"
Friar Jerome snorted. "Ain't fit enough, eh? Yore twenty-five seasons old an' as 'ealthy as anybeast - lay off all the scoffin' and you'll be as fit as a bow! No, I'm talkin' nonsense - I'm twice as old as you are an' then some, an' fatter to boot, an' I'd still take up a spear, a blade, a pot or a pan if need be t' defend our Abbey and every creature in it! It ain't lack o' fitness that ails us, it's that we 'aven't got a bit of gumption!"
"Gumption? Huh, I'd like to see you take on a horde of vermin and rat's fleas. What will you do, roll up in a ball and barrel through them, spike first, or will you try to crush them beneath your weight?"
Abbess Elinor rose and clapped her paws. "That is enough!"
But the Redwallers paid her no heed. Marianne leapt to her feet.
"If th' vermin come back, I say we fight with all we've got! Who made them th' Mossflower police? They cant just come stompin' up t' Redwall Abbey to demand t' have whoever they please!"
An elderly mouse roared, waving his cane, "That's the spirit, pretty one! Redwall hasn't lost a battle yet! Oh, for the days when everybeast was like you. Redwall forever!"
"Hush now, old one, eat your supper. There were no days when everybeast was a sword-swinging warrior, and that young maid doesn't know what she's going on about any more than you do!"
Skipper Johndam, losing all patience now, rose and brought his paw down on the table with a crash, upsetting and shattering dishware.
"SILENCE!"
As always, the Redwallers obeyed immediately.
"Th' Abbess said ye would vote, ye knuckle'eads! Last time I checked, ye don't vote by seein' who can shout th' loudest!
"You're each t' pick a handkerchief from the stack o' green ones in the center of th' table. Then you'll each take a pen an' mark 'W' for war or 'S' for surrender."
The handkerchiefs and quills were passed around, and every creature present, as he received his, bowed his head and went to work.
Before the hour ended, the handkerchiefs had formed a stack, once again, near the Abbess's plate. The silence prolonged itself as she began to count the ballots, sorting them into two heaps.
Marianne watched as she did so. "Mother Abbess,I marked my handkerchief with a 'P' for peace, 'cos war ain't what I'm after. I want t' be at peace in my 'eart, knowin' I didn't just sit back an' let any of th' creatures I care about get 'urt."
Sister Bethelle pursed her lips. "And so do I, Mother Abbess, which is why I marked my handkerchief with 'P' for peace, as well. I resent the word 'surrender.' I want ALL of the creatures of Redwall to be safe and unharmed. They must not be sacrificed to resolve a quarrel between vermin."
"But, Sister Bethelle, marm, I -"
Abbess Elinor looked heavenwards again. "My goodness, I beg of you, don't start now! Is there any other creature here who has decided to make this more confusing for me by using the letter 'P'?"
No creature responded.
"Praise God. Thank you, Marianne, Bethelle. You may remain silent till the ballots have been counted; no arguing or bickering."
"Yes, Mother Abbess, marm."
"As you wish, Mother Abbess."
The Friar, having cast his vote, rose and returned to the kitchens. Marianne folded her paws upon the table, Sister Bethelle's vanished into the sleeves of her habit, and every creature kept his or her eyes upon the ever-growing green piles, watching for any sign that one was becoming taller than the other.