A/N: Sebias: Perhaps, perhaps not. Time (and I) will tell.
Abrahem: I think the exact age is a bit confusing and I think I changed it up a few times over the course of the story (oops). In my head they're all about 8-10. Sharpfur was ten and a half when Fret first met him so he should be eleven soon if we're counting seasons=years. If seasons=seasons then they should all be about thirteen-ish? I prefer to coubc seasons=years, but I think I used to count seasons=seasons (there's a passage in Book I where Tibbers has seen only two winters, which makes little sense if he's lived long enough to see eight, but of course he's wintering in Salamandastron most of the time which means he probably hasn't seen too many winters anyway). Character ages aside, I put Tibbers at eight, Sharpfur soon-eleven. The twins at about thirteen-ish and the Junior Corporal at around sixteen. Bork I don't remember, but the faux-Whimper (Klis is a great Redwall name) I imagine at about twelve, thirteen.
The Honest Bunch aren't exactly 'shifting' blame onto Fret. They're just blaming him. Look at it from their point of view. They find Fret, stop him freezing to death, feed him and offer hospitality. They're nice to him. Then he tries to free the abbey children, which they of course don't like. That in itself is a betrayal of sorts but they don't exactly punish him. Next thing they know they're attacked and thrown into slavery and the next time they see Fret he is sitting at a feast. They don't blame him for the rats, but the rats did only show up after he did (it's a coincidence of course, but people rationalize things as best they can). Plus they're not exactly throwing him under the bus. Silvertongue had no idea Fret was Connington's nephew and therefore no idea how important Fret is to him, and by extent, One-eye.
I quite like the idea of comedically missing tooth, but I never really bring it up because I'm pretty sure most animals handle teeth differently to us humans. Maybe it grew back.
Aside from Silvertongue none of the Honest Bunch hate Fret. Deathglare was commenting on how confused/conflicted the ferret was. Fret was also rather miserable on the boat ride and noone likes a crybaby. So there's a lot in regards to Fret.
I think Fret would have gone back to Redwall had he managed to cut the rope- but then this story would be long over, wouldn't it? And he can't really stay with the Honest Bunch after he went behind their backs to free them. He could have stayed of course, they weren't going to kill him obviously, not for something like that anyways. But they would have been a bit unhappy.
Never read Mariel of Redwall so I don't really know. I'll look into this though.
Quite a long chapter here for you guys. The trial of Threeclaw has been something I have been eagerly waiting to write for quite a while. It's one of those 'first images' you get before you start writing a story. Of course originally originally Threeclaw wasn't called Threeclaw and the trial was for very different reasons, but I digress.
Another reason this chapter is extra long is because I'm going to take a short break from this story in order to finish up my other one. We're at the climax of With A Sigh of Resignation anyways so it shouldn't be *too* long.
But for now, enjoy the last of Book II's Redwall chapters.
Matiya did not know what time it was, only that the moon was high in the sky and shining through the abbey windows. He did not remember ever feeling so full. The squirrel had eaten so much he was reduced to a slow, exhausted waddle.
It had been a long day, a very, very long day and his head was spinning. There were too many thoughts to keep track of.
He was back, home again. Even now he dared not believe it. This was a dream, it had to be a dream. And when he woke up he would be tied to a mast and the Honest Bunch would be all around him, laughing and joking and taunting and teasing... But at least then he'd be with his friends. Chubby Grollo and witty Momchillo. And Jack-is-Lucky who was funny and Tibbers who was small. And Hawthorn and Roseheart and even Fret who was complicated.
He could not remember a day he hadn't spent with his friends. They had been inseparable even as dibbuns, the only thing that had really changed were the games they'd played. Tag, hide-and-seek, blind beast's buff. Yet now it would just be him and Roseheart and they had not been that close to begin with. Friends of course, but very different. Roseheart liked to sniff at flowers and pick fruit. He liked to run around waving a stick.
The dormitories were perhaps the most extensive part of the abbey building. Cavern Hole and the Great Hall were of course, huge, but the dormitories were bigger because there were more of them. There was Bella Badgermum's, the largest of all chambers, then a long row for all the remaining rooms. None were particularly big and most were practically empty. A few prized possessions, a spare habit, tunic or two, a bed, a few portraits, pictures or tapestries and a candle-holder.
Matiya's room- his room- he remembered painfully, was somewhere at the end of the long hall.
This is why I hate mushrooms. Always make me heavy…
But he had dreamed of being a warrior, and it took more than mushrooms to fell a warrior. Determinedly he advanced, he would sleep on a bed tonight if it was the last thing he did!
His eyelids drooped and yawns came more and more often and were harder and harder to put down. His stomach, busy with digestion, gave a guilty twist every time he passed a room he was familiar with. He knew the chambers of his friends as well as his own. Grollo's had nothing more than a prized ladle his father had made for him and a cookie jar his mother made sure to always keep full. No doubt the biscuits were stale by now... Roseheart had a row of potted plants along her windowsill and Hawthorn hung her self-made tapestries all over. Momchillo had a stuffed otter Fret had given him, a few twigs he liked the look of, a pebble or two of interesting shape and colour, and a few books he borrowed from the Recorder to read on a rainy day. In all likelihood the Recorder had taken them back, but the rest of his stuff remained untouched.
Matiya's was the fullest of them all. A massive tapestry of Martin the Warrior, made by Hawthorn and Roseheart for his birthday, hung over his bed. A work of art if ever there was one, and he'd often joked about having to defend it from vermin. He regretted that now. He should have never called anybeast vermin...
A collection of wooden swords, each one broken in some way and the last one missing. Threeclaw had sliced it clean in two, back when they had first been kidnapped.
A paw passed along the handles of the toy blades. Most he'd broken himself- wooden swords and indeed real swords were not meant for hitting walls- but a few had other stories. Fret and Grollo had each broken one and both times he hadn't spoken to them for a week. Grollo had apologized profusely in protest to his silence, but Fret had fought fire with fire and only grew more sullen.
He regretted that now. If Fret had not been sullen they would all still be together, laughing and playing or arguing. Either was better than being alone.
Of all his worldly possessions the most important to him now was his bed. The blankets were cold, and dust flew into the air when he hit the mattress. But what did it matter? He was filthy anyways, and tired. Soon he was also snoring.
In his dreams he was always a warrior. Big and strong and brave. Perhaps not handsome (depending on the dream) but always just and honorable. With the Sword of Martin in paw he tore through the cold and empty castle. All around him skulls were laughing from where they hung upon the walls. The skulls of mice and voles and shrews- innocent slaves captured and put to work in some pit. He was here for justice. Down in the grounds he'd left Momchillo and Grollo to guide the slaves to freedom. He had business to attend to.
The warlord would only rear his ugly head again if he let him have the chance, and then every innocent creature in Mossflower country would suffer. No, he was a hero. Abbey Warrior. He protected the innocent and it was his job to make sure this cruel slavemaster kept his iron paws to himself.
A huge rat roared down at him. The savage wore a necklace of bones and a squirrel-skin pelt. Was this the warlord? He scarcely had time left to think before the beast was upon him. Spit flew and dripped from it's open jaws as it swung an axe down at him. Such a weapon and with such force, would have to be dodged.
But in his dreams Matiya was stronger than anything. Almost casually he raised his blade, and caught the axe by the handle. The force of the blow sent the weapon shaking. A moment later he had bypassed his opponent, a swift, bloodless jab to the stomach sent the savage to the floor. Never would he rise again.
Matiya continued towards the throne room, where he knew he'd find the warlord. Another large rat perhaps, or a small, cunning weasel. It made no difference. All it took was one swing of his sword and the beast would fall and Mossflower would be safe. Hopefully in time for tea, the biscuits smelled like cinnamon.
The hall opened up like the mouth of a serpent, stretching impossibly wide around him, and he knew at last that he had arrived. A massive seat stood before him, a tremendous pile of skulls and bones. A great green serpent, it's eyes the colour of jade, coiled around the throne. But it was not a rat he found seated amidst the soft pillows. It was not a weasel of any shape or form who shrunk at the sight of him.
"You couldn't stay away, could you?" Fret squeaked. He was not much of a warlord in truth. Life in the castle had made him plump, but he was small and shaking. In his paws there was a crown of copper, with thirteen golden spines jutting out. Despite his newfound weight, he was smaller than Matiya had ever seen him. The throne, the pillows and the serpent at his feetpaws all seemed likely to swallow him up. The squirrel felt his breath caught in his throat.
"Y-you had to come and be the hero. Y-you had to. Couldn't- couldn't just leave me alone." The crown slipped from his paws and the ferret curled in on himself, cradling his knees and rocking to and fro. "I wouldn't have done anything."
Matiya could not remember why he was here. Slaves, he was rescuing slaves. Yet that notion seemed silly now. The snake was rising up, on it's great, scaly head lay the crown. "I came for you." He said at once and knew it to be true. The kidnapping, the attempted stabbing... all of it... none of it mattered! "To bring you home! The others are back already-"
"Liar!" The ferret whined, rocking ever-harder. "Liar, liar, liar, liar."
Matiya felt the breath leave his lungs. No, he wanted to say. It was the truth. The squirrel took a step backwards.
"What's the matter?" Snapped the ferret, wiping his eyes dry. "Was it something I said?"
"N-no-"
"Was it something I did?" The desperation in his eyes was painful to watch. It was as if the ferret's very life depended on the answer. "I didn't want to do this." He said, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do this. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't do anything."
"It's not your fault." Matiya found his voice and sheathed the blade of Martin the Warrior. He would not be needing it now. There was no warlord to kill. Only another beast to help. He stretched a paw out towards Fret. "Nothing's your fault."
The ferret's claws dug into his own tail. "You're right." His voice was nothing more than a squeak, the kind of noise only a frightened child could make. "It's yours!"
The snake lunged and Matiya went for his blade. He never got the chance to unsheathe it though, an arrow hit his paw and his fingers exploded with pain.
The squirrel's eyes shot open and he instantly became aware of blood on his paw. In the panicked fumble of sleep he'd gone for the sword of Martin the Warrior- only to find Threeclaw's stolen rapier. It's sharp blade had tore a long gash along the inside of his fingers and now he was bleeding. Last spring he'd have ran straight to his mother, but he'd seen and dealt with far worse wounds by now. Anyhow his bruises hurt more. Wiping his paw on the blanket, he made sure to, very carefully, place the blade in a corner of his room.
"What a dream." He mused, rubbing at his head and getting small droplets of blood in-between his fur. As was the case with sleeping dreams, he remembered little of it. Only that Fret had been there, fat and frightened and in the coils of a large snake.
He shook his head determinedly. His friends were fine, and definitely not anywhere near a snake.
Marching forwards the squirrel pushed open the curtains, and was met with far more light than he had expected. The sun was high in the sky and Matiya had to step backwards. What was the time? How long had he been asleep?
"Matee'a? Are ee oop yet?" Came Roseheart's voice.
"Yes." There had been a lot of blood apparently, and spots of red surrounded a long, crimson streak on the center of his blanket. "Yes I just woke up." He replied, ripping his bloodstained blanket off the bed just as the door opened. Swiftly, he turned his back on her, so that she did not get a glimpse of red. It would not do for anybeast to see all the blood. Not now when they'd no doubt fuss over him. "So, what's for breakfast?" He asked nonchalantly, kicking the offending blanket under his bed to be dealt with later.
"Brekfust be over. Abbot Martin said not to waken ee oop. Said ee'd need to catch up on yurr zleepin'." She sported a raised eyebrow as she watched him wrestle the blanket, but, thankfully, did not question him.
"Oh, right. I'm not hungry anyways." And how could he be? He'd eaten enough food to fill a badger only a few hours ago.
There was a hint of worry in Roseheart's eyes that Matiya did not know how to deal with. He gave her a sheepish grin.
"I look a right mess, don't I?"
She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. "Not a roight mess zurr, moibe in need of a bay-thin'. Abbot Martin tolden oi to call 'ee to th'ole. It be abowt... 'ee stoat."
Threeclaw! How had he forgotten about Threeclaw? A familiar and unpleasant nervousness creeped up on him now. "Well, w-we mustn't keep him waiting then. You know how he gets." Not even he was sure whether he was talking about Abbot Martin or Threeclaw.
Ignoring the nervousness, and Roseheart's worried stare, Matiya dashed down the hall as fast as his feetpaw could carry him. He arrived, breathless, a few moments later. He found Abbot Martin seated besides the Recorder, who was talking ceaselessly, the older mouse had his head against the table, a gesture Matiya knew to indicate irritation. A few other beasts were crowded around, but Matiya payed them no mind and made his way to where Threeclaw lay draped over a chair.
The albino looked bored, his three-clawed paw spinning a fork around, yet when he caught sight of the squirrel he grinned slightly, and twisted around so that he was upside down. "Bon to be back, si?"
"Yeah." The squirrel replied distractedly.
"You look funny from upside down. I know squirrels can climb and all, but walking upside down is not the same thing."
"What's all this about?" Matiya asked, waving a paw around the Hole.
The stoat's smile went upside-down as he twisted and slunk back into a normal seating position. "Your abbeybeasts wanted to ask me some things."
"Oh."
"Oh indeed."
Matiya shook his head and felt the nervousness return. "I-it's- fine. They just, want to... Clarify... Some things. Few questions. Nothing much."
The stoat rolled his eyes and pointed at a nearby, unoccupied stool. "I know."
"How are you feeling?" Matiya was forced to ask as he sat down.
"As cool as a concombre, as calm as a coracle and as bored as a badger."
Bella must have heard him, for she glared in his direction. Threeclaw did not seem to notice and shrugged.
"But I am supposing you woodlanders have your ways."
Abbot Martin had intended it to be a short, informative discussion between himself and the stoat. The Recorder would write down notes on all that was said and Matiya would then confirm the truth of it all. But then Bella had caught wind of the plan and tagged along to act as bodyguard, in case the vermin tried anything. And then he had asked Constance to come, to make sure Bella did not accidentally kill their guest. The Recorder had next invited Lily Prickla over to add all the details she knew. Then Blind Agatha had insisted that she would stay with her son and Rosebrush had wanted to ask and hear about hers. And then the Friar and his wife had joined them, Roseheart and the Foremole, the Log-a-log (currently suffering from a mild hangover) three other shrews and a pair of hares.
The old mouse had then drawn a line, and just in case, assigned every other abbeybeast a long and frustrating job to do. Mostly picking fruit and cleaning up the grounds, but poor Mormont had ended up on dish duty. He was quite sure that such precautions were not well-recieved, but at least nobeast would be listening in from behind the doors.
"Like I was saying- oh look Matiya's here. Poor boy's been dragged through the mud by the look of it."
Abbot Martin sat up and rubbed at his eyelids. Indeed Matiya was there, looking slightly confused, and as Montague had pointed out, rather filthy. The abbot cleared his throat and drew the attention towards himself. "Now, I'm sure we are all aware as to why we are here. But just to reiterate, this is not an interrogation, this is not a trial, we just want answers. That's all. I ask nothing from anybeast present, only that when they speak that they speak the truth."
There was a murmur of agreement and Abbot Martin went on. "Now Matiya, please explain what happened? How did- how- perhaps start from the beginning. To the best of your memory, what happened at the last feast?"
Matiya had not expected to be asked anything, not this early in the er-late afternoon anyways. "Well." He said, though what he meant was 'um'. "Well, we were eating." He resisted the urge to facepaw. But Abbot Martin gave a nod of encouragement and Matiya cleared his throat. "It all started I suppose when Jack started juggling. An eggplant or something fell in a bowl of soup and Fret and Tibbers got drenched."
"You're quite sure it was an eggplant?" Asked Montague, his paw clenched tightly around an ever-moving quill.
"Er- it could have been a turnip. Maybe a radish." Matiya scratched the side of his head. Had it in fact been an onion?
"Please continue." Abbot Martin requested, waving away the pointless detail.
The squirrel nodded and did as the abbot requested. "So, Fret left the hall all unhappy and stuff. Then I went to make sure he was alright and found him on the walltops." Liar liar liar liar liar. The squirrel's insides twisted cruelly. "He er- seemed er-upset." He had been upset and Matiya had been confused. "Nearly slipped off the walls but I caught him and then he er- well I went back to the feast." He shouldn't have done that. He should have stayed on the walltops with the soup-covered ferret.
"Alright. Now, Threeclaw. As I understand it you were-" Abbot Martin never got the chance to finish his question. Finding all the right words was difficult, especially in a situation as complicated as this.
"You were working with Fret." The Recorder interrupted.
"That's not-" Matiya started, but Threeclaw interrupted him.
"Shhhh, it's me they're asking amigo."
Matiya scowled at him but remained silent.
Montague went on. "But this confused us. Fret never left the abbey before, yet somehow he ended up in cahoots-" Here Threeclaw began snickering. "With you." The Recorder finished rather crossly.
"And who told you that?" The stoat asked but did not wait for a reply. "Premierenent, I didn't find Frettie, my copains did. Deuxiement I was never being in cocoons-"
"Cahoots." Lily Prickla corrected softly.
"That. With anybeast." Threeclaw smirked. "Frettie was found at the bottom of your big rouge walls. He seemed likely to die in the cold so he was brought to our camp." The stoat shrugged. "We patched him up a little and then he was free to do what he pleased."
The Recorder seemed likely to start interrogating again so Abbot Martin swiftly changed the subject.
"Now Matiya. Please explain what happened next."
"Right. The next morning as you know nobeast could find Fret. So er- we thought we'd give it a try. Me and Jack and Tibbers, Momchillo, Grollo, Hawthorn and Roseheart." He swallowed slightly to keep down the guilt rising inside of him. All of his friends, and he'd lead them into danger… "We went to look for him and-" Here he stopped abruptly.
"And?" Demanded the Recorder.
"And we-" He stopped again and glanced at Threeclaw.
"And they ran into moi." The stoat finished, jabbing a thumbclaw into his chest for emphasis.
Roseheart nodded dumbly. "Th-that's the truth." Matiya finished. For a moment Cavern Hole was silent as the grave.
"So this." Bella waved a paw around in indication of the missing children. "Is your fault."
The temperature dropped palpably and Matiya felt an icy chill run down his spine. He opened his mouth to offer some kind of defense, but the stoat beat him to it.
Threeclaw leaned back in his seat. "I kidnapped them. I tied them to a mast and sailed away with them." He smirked. "But the fault lies with the irresponsible parents who let their children walk out the gates."
Their was an uproar, and Abbot Martin wished he had some sort of hammer with which to restore peace and quiet. As it was all he could do was repeatedly ask for everybeast to calm down. Not that anybeast seemed to listen.
"You're bonkers! Blaming us for your crimes, wot!" Shouted a hare.
The Log-a-log stomped forwards, determined to wipe the smirk off his face. "My fault, eh? Oh-ho! We'll see who's fault it is after I've bashed your skull in!"
Matiya shot to his feet and stepped swiftly and firmly between the fat shrew and the stoat. "Wait! Wait, let me explain-"
"Explain what laddie!? He just said he done it! Now out of the way!" He made to barge past but Matiya shoved him backwards. Threeclaw laughed as the hung-over Log-a-log fell on his rump.
"No! I know what he did was bad but but- but he's changed!"
"Matiya? What are you saying?" His mother looked stricken.
"I haven't changed actually." Threeclaw added.
"And it's not his fault or Fret's fault we got kidnapped. It's mine!"
Abbot Martin did not remember Cavern Hole ever being so quiet. He opened and closed his mouth in surprise.
Matiya went on less fiercely. "It was my idea to go looking for Fret. I thought… I thought… Fret was hurt and it was because of me and I thought I'd help him out and I dragged everybeast down with me and-" Matiya swallowed. "This is my fault." Guilt and shame forced his gaze downwards. He could not bring himself to look at anybeast.
The sombre mood was ruined when Threeclaw, nodding continuously, pointed a claw at the squirrel. "This is his fault."
"'Ow can 'ee be zaying that Matee'a." Came Roseheart's voice. "When Frettie troied to stab Momchillo and ''ee-" she pointed a shaking digging claw at Threeclaw- "Stabbed Tibbers."
"WHAT!?" The Log-a-log was up on his feetpaws now and barged past Matiya before the squirrel could react. "He did what!?" Before he could get to the stoat, however, he was held back by Constance
"I stabbed the shrew, kicked the hare's rump and broke the squirrel's wooden sword." Threeclaw replied. "Pourquoi? Well fun fact, your kids attacked moi! No provocation, no warning- the hare charged first and the shrew second. I had to stab the shrew or else he might have stabbed me and I like my fur bloodless. The better question is pourquoi vous gave children real weapons."
Bella stood up suddenly and threw Threeclaw into her shadow. "And you expect us to believe that rubbish?"
"Ask your squirrel."
Bella growled. "Matiya tell the truth and tell it loudly. I want this beast to hear some honesty before I-"
"BELLA!" Abbot Martin cried, slamming his tiny fist into the table. "Sit back down this instant! Everybeast please calm down. Please. Shouting will not solve anything. Now Matiya, please continue. What happened next?"
"Well, they took us to their camp and Fret was there. And when I saw him I was angry. So I-er I punched his tooth loose." The squirrel sat back down on the stool. Somehow his legs did not seem able to take his weight any longer. "Then I don't know. Some time passed, we were in a tent. Tibbers was getting his shoulder patched up and then Fret told them that somebeast was hurt. Then he... He had a knife…"
"''Ee troied to stab Momchillo." Roseheart finished.
Threeclaw broke into loud laughter and leaned so far back in the chair that it came crashing to the floor. All that was visible from around the furniture were his legs kicking the air as he continued to cackle.
"What's so funny?" The Recorder demanded.
Threeclaw raised a paw and laughed for a good minute. When he had recovered, he sat up on the capsized chair. He was pink in the face and breathing heavily.
"You are funny! All of you! You're drole. Frettie never tried to stab anybeast. Frettie couldn't stab anybeast even if he wanted to. Why do you think I was stopping him?" Threeclaw shook his head. "Strange beast, I still have no idea why he wanted to come back here."
"What do you mean stop him?" Constance asked, still holding onto the Log-a-log.
"He was going to cut the rope." Said Matiya dumbly. They had screamed and shouted and said hurtful things and the ferret had wasted precious time stuttering.
"Exactement!" Threeclaw declared.
"So it is your fault!" Bella rose to her feet again. "You stopped them from-"
"Running amok in the wilds of Mossflower?" Threeclaw rolled his eyes. "Had Frettie succeeded they'd have been perdue. And there are far worse things than me that could find them."
"Like what?" Demanded the Badgermum.
"Cannibals. Owls. Les sauvage that killed my company." The stoat's smirk was back at maximum smugness. "It's lucky I ran into them vraiment."
The Log-a-log snarled and rose to his feetpaws. "You'll be lucky to get out alive."
"Really?" Threeclaw stopped spinning the fork and pointed it at the fat shrew's stomach. "You going to sit on me or something?" The stoat raised his paws in mock panic. "I am being afraid now! Save me somebeast, from this obese little thing!"
"Now er- Matiya." Said Abbot Martin very very loudly in an attempt to keep the situation under control. "Please continue. How did your ahem, partnership with Threeclaw start?"
"Well. We were sailing away on their boat." Matiya replied, trying his hardest to drown out the sound of Threeclaw snickering and loudly righting his chair. "When we got attacked. I-er don't know why. I'm not sure by whom. But it was a lot of black rats. We thought we'd use the diversion to escape maybe. So we got onto a lifeboat." Matiya looked down at his feetpaws again. "But I- I didn't want to leave Fret behind. So I went back to get him and..." He trailed off, his ears drooping. If they had managed to escape then they'd have spent the winter in Redwall... Together... But then Fret might have died... Fret might have died anyways.
His paws were shaking, and only now did he seem to register the pain in his bleeding wound. Hastily he hid them behind his back, but not before his silence had been noted.
"And?" The Recorder asked impatiently.
"Then he fell off the boat, got washed down the river and found moi." Threeclaw explained, gently patting the squirrel's head before retaking his seat. "I am supposing you want to know who attacked us?"
"I was just going to ask that." Montague said briskly, dipping his quill in ink.
"I have aucune idea. No clue!"
"Really?" Bella growled skeptically. "There's nobeast that wants you dead?"
"There are too many beasts that want me to be a cadaver." Threeclaw retorted. "It could have been another band of pirates. It could have been some Northern King. It could have been you for all I know." He shrugged. "They fought like you but there were many of them and we were beaten. Some rat sliced my throat open and I fell into la riviere. Your squirrel found me, saved mon vie." He pointed at his throat with the fork in one paw, and with the other brushed aside his fur for maximum visibility. Faintly a scar could be seen, stitched shut by a torn piece of habit. "La rest is history."
"So you haven't got a clue as to where the children are at?" Asked a hare.
"Aucune idea."
Silence followed his words, for nobeast knew what to say. The Recorder's quill raced along the parchment, scratching furiously and was responsible for all the noise in Cavern Hole until Abbot Martin spoke.
"Miss Prickla if you are willing to shed some light on this subject it would be most beneficial. We understand that Grollo, Hawthorn and ahem, a weasel that goes by Sharpfur have been in your care until recently. Could you explain how this came to pass?"
"Oh that's quite simple really. I was by the river one afternoon collecting some fresh water when they burst from the treeline. Dreadful state the poor things. Clothes torn, bleeding profusely- the weasel had a nasty burn." She hugged herself and shivered. "They were in a ghastly state. But I patched them up as best I could. Sweet children, all three of them. Very kind, very helpful, very clever-"
"If you don't mind me asking." The Recorder's voice came from behind a pile of drying parchment. "Why is it that you are here and they are not?"
It surprised Matiya little when the old hedgehog burst into tears and collapsed. Being swift, even for a squirrel, he managed to catch her before she fell, but it was all he could do to stop himself toppling under her weight. Ignorant of his plight Lily Prickla sobbed freely into his chest-fur.
"Shush, shhhhhh, calm now." Threeclaw, who had expected such an outburst, gently patted the hedgehog's shoulder until she released the squirrel and threw herself into him. Having not expected such a turn of events he slipped and fell back into the chair. "There, there." He wheezed, having been winded on impact.
"Was it something I said?" The Recorder asked, standing on tip-paw to see past his papers.
"She's very sensitive." Matiya explained for the benefit of everybeast present, most of whom were staring at their feetpaws in the kind of awkward guilt one often felt around a sobbing creature.
"They wanted to come back." The old hedgehog was shaking her head so thoroughly she had knocked her glasses askew. "But I didn't want to l-leave. I thought it'd b-be d-dangerous. B-but then they left anyways." She could speak no further and once more turned to Threeclaw for comfort. The stoat grimaced from around her spiky head, but made no motion to throw her off.
"Constance, if you would be so kind as to escort Miss Prickla to her room. We have heard enough."
"Oi be thinken that some tea moight not be amizz." The Foremole added.
The big mouse nodded and very carefully helped the old hedgehog out, offering ceaseless reassurances that everything would be fine.
Abbot Martin rubbed at his forehead. Matiya's story did not contradict Roseheart's version of events, but did offer a different perspective. He did not doubt his pupil's honesty. Matiya was an honest boy by nature and didn't have enough of a way with words to spin an elegant lie.
Bella suddenly pointed a claw at the stoat. "What about the bird?"
"Bird?"
"Bird!"
"What bird?" Asked Matiya, before remembering what he'd said about sparrows. Oops...
To make matters worse, Threeclaw opened his big fat mouth. "We never dealt with any birds!" Then the lie came back to him too and he visibly stiffened.
Bella frowned. "Matiya, I am very disappointed in you. Lying is not the abbey-"
"You were strangling him!" The squirrel protested.
"What bird?" Asked Abbot Martin, confused by this detail. He did not think he could handle another plot twist...
"I was not strangli-"
"Tell that to my guts!" Threeclaw snapped. He pointed the fork at Bella.
"So he didn't save me from a bird." Matiya threw his paws into the air. "He still looked after me. He didn't have to, but he did."
"To ransom you." Threeclaw added, just when it had looked like they were about to believe him. Matiya facepawed and turned to face him.
"Who's side are you on?"
"Mine." The stoat replied, not really helping his case.
Matiya spun back to face the assembled Redwallers. "He's not a bad beast just give him a chance to-" He was going to say 'prove it' but was interrupted by Threeclaw laughing.
"Une chance? Where was all this joking while we were traveling?" Threeclaw stood up. "I do not need a chance. And I am not thinking that she would want to give it. Not am I wanting it. A bag of vittles will do and I'll be on my way. Oh, and I want le rapier back." He paused expectantly, one paw outstretched, the other on his hip, a footpaw tapping impatiently.
"You're leaving?" Matiya felt his ears droop and his tail go flat. In hindsight he should have seen this coming... But he did not want Threeclaw to leave. The stoat was funny and fun to be with and-and nobeast else would teach him how to use a sword. Yet Threeclaw was also vermin and lived life like one. A parting of ways was inevitable... But surely now was too soon? They had only arrived the other night!
"Of course I'm leaving." The stoat snapped. "I am not wanting to be here, nor am I much wanted here. You're back with your famille now which means I have done all that is needed to do." He softened slightly upon noting how sad the squirrel looked. "Still... I have grown fond of you. I'll be in Mossflower somewhere my copain. Perhaps one day we shall cross paths again." He threw his arms open, apparently offering a hug and awkwardly Matiya returned it. "Perhaps some day we might cross swords again." He whispered, so only the squirrel could hear. Before Matiya could think of any kind of reply Threeclaw had shoved him off none-too-lightly. "Well? Where is my sword?"
"I'm afraid we can't let you leave." Abbot Martin replied.
"What?" The stoat was startled.
"You mean it?" Matiya, delighted.
"Excuse moi, but why?" Threeclaw demanded through gritted teeth.
"Well you see... Some of our children are not accounted for and all thing considered, it is plausible that some members of your crew are still in possession of them."
"So I'm a bargaining chip!?" The stoat jabbed his fork in the old mouse's direction. "You're going to sell me-"
"Don't think of it like that." The abbot protested, his paws flailing. "And we shan't keep you very long. I am sure that you have, ahem, very important duties to attend to and are eager to return to your erm- people. But as a measure of self-assurance-"
Threeclaw's paws tightened viciously around the fork. With a light, infuriated hiss the stoat threw it upon the ground and sat fuming, his arms crossed over his chest. Steam seemed to billow from his redder-than-usual face and Matiya did not recall ever seeing him so angry. It was frightening but the squirrel was not frightened. They were friends... Threeclaw would never hurt him.
"Held against your will! Ha! Now there's some justice!" The Log-a-log declared, slapping his belly.
Threeclaw opened and closed his mouth, biting back all the foreign foul words in his arsenal. The albino shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
"So I am being your guest?"
"Precisely." Abbot Martin replied.
Matiya punched the stoat lightly on the shoulder. "An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, eh?"
Threeclaw shook his head but could not suppress a smirk. "You have spent far too much time around vermin. Now you even play as dirty as we do. I am not supposing I have much of a choice?"
"You don't." Bella replied, cracking a knuckle.
Threeclaw deflated. "Then we are... Where we are..."