"Creatures of Redwall."
The last handkerchief was placed upon the top of the pile to which it belonged. All eyes were upon the Abbess, then, as she rose.
"I have counted the votes." There was a pause. "It appears that we have a tie."
The Abbeybeasts began to murmur, but were silenced by a warning bang upon the table edge from the Skipper.
"In light of this, I have decided to cast a vote. I ask for one day - twenty-four hours - to make my decision.
"Skipper, gather the ballots, if you please, and take them to my study. The rest of you, please finish with your supper and then begin with your evening chores. For once I will not be presiding over the meal; I must have time to reflect. But I wish to hear of no quarreling or displays of animosity regarding the vote. Skipper Johndam will deal with any upstarts. That is all. Thank you."
Abbess Elinor and Skipper departed from Cavern Hole, heading for Great Hall. As she had anticipated, angry disputes began to break out almost immediately.
Skipper Johndam returned a short time later, though, and his very presence was enough to quell all arguments. He dished out thunderous reprimands, menial tasks, confinements and unpleasant dietary plans in which bread, water and lettuce featured prominently. Before the meal ended, order and peace had been restored to Redwall Abbey.

Afterwards, Friar Jerome permitted Marianne to excuse herself without helping to clear the tables. The squirrelmaid, as she left her chair, gave the Friar a look of gratitude, to which he responded by patting her paw. His gaze was one of sympathy.
Good old Friar Jerome - he did understand, and he had done all that he could.
Salome had not come to Cavern Hole for supper, nor was she in the kitchen. Marianne found her sitting upon the floor, outside of the room door that Samuel still had not unlocked. She had drawn her knees up, encircling them with her arms; her eyes were in another world entirely.
Marianne slid down beside her. "He still won't let you come in?"
Salome gave a small shrug. "I 'aven't asked, nor knocked. S'pose he wants t' be alone. Samuel's like that sometimes."
Marianne was silent for a time. How would she broach the subject of the vote with Salome? If only she had not been absent at suppertime - then the terrible burden of explaining would not rest upon her shoulders.
"Salome?" Marianne hesitated for another moment. "I . . ."
Salome leapt to her feet, without warning, and spoke as if she had heard nothing. "Th' Friar can't boss ME about!"
"Salome!"
"Well, he can't - least not when I ain't in th' kitchen 'elpin' him. You're his assistant, but I ain't, really - an' I'm goin' t' be a slingthrower!"
"Salome!" Marianne caught her by the paw. "Stop it - don't be fool'ardy! D'you want t' make th' Friar mad?"
This question, and the thought of being the cause of the kind Friar's anger, deflated Salome. She remembered that her position in the Abbey was shaky and uncertain. In an instant, much of her bravado was gone.
"I don't want anybeast t' be mad at me or 'ate me."
She sank to the floor, bowing her head to conceal her face. Against her will, her eyes were beginning to grow wet.
"I . . . I just wanted t' do somethin' besides sittin' about, waitin' for somethin' t' 'appen - th' Abbess tossin' us out, or th' weasel shootin' more fleas in over th' wall, or Samuel comin' out an' - an' doin' whatever he could do, or just lookin' at me an' everybeast th' way he has. I can't stand it!"
She lifted her head long enough to dash the tears away fiercely, angry with herself for having shed them, for the feelings of helplessness that had brought them on.
"If they've got t' kill me, then I'd rather be shot than t' be chopped t' little bits till I die an' be tossed in a ditch with - with apple cores an' fish bones an' old dirty rags. Maybe if'n they got me with an arrow, they'd leave th' rest o' you alone. Sometimes I wish I was dead already!"
This was too much for Marianne, who could no longer keep the truth bottled up within her. She cried, "Th' Abbess made everybeast vote t' decide whether you go t' th' Walking Dead or not!"
Salome froze. The color began to drain from her face.
Marianne seized her by the shoulders. Her voice dropped until it was scarcely above whispering level.
"'alf th' creatures wanted t' fight th' Walking Dead an' the other 'alf wanted you out. So th' Abbess 'as t' break th' tie tomorrow night - an' she talks as if she doesn't want t' fight!
"Salome, we can't sit about weepin' now. We've got t' talk t' th' Abbess - make her see things our way!"
Salome pulled free of Marianne. She backed away from her, pale as a small specter.
"S'pose she won't?"
Marianne grabbed her wrist once again. "Then - then we've got t' get you away - I don't know where, or 'ow."
She cast about for a closet or a crate.
"We may 'ave only a day - maybe we ought t' 'ide you . . . an' yore brother . . .someplace. I'll talk t' the Abbess myself. I -!"
"Marianne!"
Salome freed herself from Marianne's grip for the second time.
"Marianne, look at me. We can't do that - it won't 'elp anybeast! I bet they'd find us an' slay us if we even tried t' leave th' Abbey! But if'n they couldn't get their paws on Samuel an' me, do you really think they wouldn't keep goin' after th' Abbey so th' Abbess'd give us up, unless they got sick of it first?"
Marianne's brown eyes flashed. "Aye - an' we'd fight 'em an' win, the way I said we ought to t' begin with!"
"But 'ow can you say you'll win?"
The squirrelmaid's voice became very soft.
"'Cos God's mighty an' Redwall Abbey always wins."
Salome twisted the corner of her habit sleeve.
"But that place Sister Jane called Loam'edge - wasn't that an Abbey, like Redwall? Didn't a - a sickness wreck that place? Why didn't they win?"
Marianne bristled. "Th' plague didn't 'wreck' Loam'edge, Salome - 'twas an earthquake that wrecked it! Most o' th' creatures got out o' there alive before it could wipe them out - an' it seems t' me they DID win, 'cos they got t' build Redwall Abbey!"
The conversation had grown more heated than either of the young maids had anticipated.
Salome turned away from Marianne, having decided that she would not carry on with the argument for much longer. She had not expected to quarrel with her friend for the second time, nor had she meant to offend her or to speak disrespectfully of the Abbey she had grown to love. Still, she felt that she must say a few final words.
"Well, I still can't see 'ow you can say you know you'll win."
Salome's stubbornness frustrated Marianne. It was a frustration that was born of fear more than anything else.
"Well, if you can't see, then I can't make you see, Salome. Maybe there's some beasts who just aren't meant t' see.
"But what I can't see is why, if you don't feel in your 'eart th' Abbey will win, you keep sayin' you want t' fight - unless you're just tryin' t' get killed so th' Walkin' Scum o' th' Earth won't get you!" Salome flinched. "Wot good would it be t' anybeast for you t' go off an' die? Why would they want t' shoot you t' begin with - didn't Master Samuel say they were tryin' t' get him alive? Didn't you say they wanted t' rip you t' little bits? An' if'n they killed you fast without meanin' to, who's t' say th' cold-'earted scum'd really leave us alone an' not try t' take it out on th' Abbey? Who's t' say they wouldn't try t' punish us for not givin' up peacefully t' begin with? They're wicked an' 'ateful an' they've got rat's fleas in their paws! No matter wot 'appens, we've got no choice but t' fight like Redwallers - an' BELIEVE we'll win!"
Salome was silent.
"We need t' 'ide you. I'm goin' t' talk t' th' Abbess!"
Salome turned to face Marianne. She squared her shoulders and forced the tremor from her voice.
"I don't care what you say. I'm goin' with you. I'll talk t' th' Abbess with you, - or God- or Martin - or - or anybeast who'll listen - but I'm not 'idin' and I ain't runnin' away!"