Bryony’s love was temporarily clouded by contempt. ‘Hah! Just like you never stole the blue pot, eh? I’ll bet you were surprised when it showed up again – if you’d had your way it would have been at the bottom of the pond!’
The ferret’s eyes radiated hatred at the mousemaid who had reared him since infancy. ‘Yah, go on! Blame me, you’re like all the rest. I found that pot by the south wallsteps, but I couldn’t return it, could I? Everybeast would say I told you so, it was Veil. I was too scared to take it back, so I chucked it in the pond.’
Bryony softened towards him and, taking his six-clawed paw, she tried reasoning with him. ‘I took it back, Veil, but you could have taken it back, then it would have proved to them that you weren’t a thief. Can’t you see, I did it to help you!’
Veil tore his paw from the mousemaid’s grasp. ‘You were spyin’ on me, just like you were a moment ago, Miss Goody Goody. I hate you!’
He dashed off down the stairs, leaving Bryony dumbfounded with a large teardrop trickling down each of her cheeks.
* * *
28
That same evening, Skipperjo the otter and Redfarl the squirrel brought their warriors to supper at the invitation of the Abbess. It was a jolly meal and the food, as usual, was excellent. A large redcurrant, apple and blackberry tart graced the centre table, surrounded by small bowls of gooseberries and cream, a strawberry syllabub and wild cherry flans. Servers went around with large jugs of dandelion fizz, specially brewed by old Bral Hogmorton, the cellarkeeper, and his friend the Foremole. It was an instant success, especially with the Dibbuns, many of whom fell about chuckling when the bubbles fizzled in their mouths.
Jodd the squirrelhare set about demolishing an immense deeper’n’ever pie, made for him by a group of moles, who betted each other that it was too big for him to finish. The Foremole had wagered that he could. Smiling from ear to ear he collected candied chestnuts from the gaping moles as Jodd licked the deep pie plate clean.
‘Hurr hurr ahurr hohurr! Ee should never bet agin ’ow much yon ’arebeast can put aways, ee’m a champeen scoffer, ho urr!’
Jodd wiped his chops delicately on a white serviette. ‘My word, ’ceedingly tasty! Right ho, chaps, what’s the jolly old main course look like?’
Abbess Meriam shook with stifled laughter. ‘No more for you until you’ve given us a song, sir.’
Jodd was immediately up, cavorting around the tables and twanging on his bowstring as he launched into a comic ditty.
‘Oh the reason why I sing this ballad,
Is ’cos I wish I were a salad,
If I were a salad, a great big one,
I’d lick the plate when I was gone!
But merrydown derrydown, I don’t care,
I’m hungry as a good old hare.
So all you frogs pay heed to me,
A pudden’s what I’d like to be,
All full of plums an’ steamin’ hot,
I’d scoff me in a flash, eh wot?
But merrydown derrydown, no not me,
A good old hare is what I’ll be.
Then if I were a great fat fish,
The frogs would lay me in a dish,
And when they all sat down to sup,
With knives an’ forks they’d cut me up.
So merrydown derrydown, lack a day,
A hungry hare is what I’ll stay!’
Amid the laughter and applause, a mole who was on kitchen duty tugged at the Abbess’s sleeve and whispered urgently, ‘Cumm yurr, mum, ee ’ogwife be sicked in ee kitchen!’
Meriam got up from her chair and glided to the kitchen with Bryony in her wake questioning the mole.
‘Myrtle sick? What seems to be the matter with her, Figgul?’
The molemaid Figgul spread her digging claws, mystified. ‘Oi doan’t be knowen, missie. Furst she be a tummypainen, then groanen an’ a moanen sumthin’ orful, et quoit upset oi, ho urr!’
Friar Bunfold was wringing his paws helplessly when they arrived. Myrtle lay doubled up on the floor, shivering. Others crowded into the kitchen as Abbess Meriam knelt over her, saying, ‘Skipperjo, Jodd, clear that table, lift her up onto it, gentle now. Myrtle, what is it, my dear?’
The old hogwife was decidedly pale, and greenish around her lips. ‘Ooooohhh! ’Elp me, marm, the pain, the agony!’ she wept. Then, mercifully, she passed into unconsciousness.
Sister Withe pushed her way through to the table and swiftly she inspected the hedgehog, feeling her brow, sniffing her breath.
‘Looks like she’s been poisoned to me!’ the mouse announced.
A look of horror passed across Bryony’s face. ‘Poisoned?’
Sister Withe questioned Friar Bunfold. ‘What’s she had to eat and drink lately, Friar?’
Bunfold waved his ladle distractedly. ‘Nothin’ we haven’t all eaten tonight, as for drink, well, there’s that jar of cold water sprinkled with oats and powdered barley. I drink quite a bit of it, because of the heat in here – gets quite hot when we’re cookin’, Sister.’
Withe took the jar, then she sniffed it, dipped a paw in and tasted a drop. Pulling a wry face she spat it out, saying, ‘Has any of this been drunk by you or the kitchen helpers?’
Friar Bunfold shook his head. ‘No, the helpers have all been drinkin’ dandelion fizz. Myrtle didn’t usually drink the oat’n’barley water, said she wasn’t sure if she’d like it, ’owever, I drink lots of it, an’ I told Myrtle to drink some, as it’d do her good in this heat.’
‘But you didn’t drink any, Friar?’
‘No, I was goin’ to when Myrtle drank some as I advised her . . .’ The ladle clattered from Bunfold’s paw as realization struck him. ‘That was meant for me to drink!’
Myrtle was carried up to Bella’s room by Skipperjo, Jodd and Redfarl. The Abbess and Sister Withe went with her. They laid the hogwife on Bella’s bed as Withe prepared an antidote, speaking her thoughts aloud as she worked.
‘Wolfbane, the hooded plant that kills. She must have drunk only a small sip – if Myrtle had taken a proper mouthful she wouldn’t be with us now. Crushed mustard seed, lots of it in water, that should bring it up – what d’you think, Bella?’
The silver badger answered without hesitation. ‘Aye, lots of it, you’re right. Better hurry!’
In Great Hall, Bryony and Togget were helping to clear the tables. Veil began stacking dishes beside them; he looked puzzled. ‘Bryony, what’s all the fuss about, why’s the feast stopped?’ he asked.
‘Didn’t you hear? Myrtle’s ill, they say she’s been poisoned.’
Veil sat down, disbelief written across his face. ‘Poisoned? Myrtle? But why?’
Togget picked up a great pie dish. ‘Aye, poisinged, maister, tho’ she’m aloive, thank guddness!’
Veil grasped Bryony’s paw, his lip quivering. ‘Poor Myrtle, who would do such a thing?’
Bryony watched tears pop out onto the young ferret’s cheek. She hugged him, glad that he could show such tender feelings for the old hogwife. ‘There, there, she’ll be right as rain in a day or two, you’ll see. They never said anybeast did it, perhaps it was just an accident, something got into the water jar somehow, who knows?’
The mousemaid felt sympathy for Veil, he looked so upset, and she sent him off to bed.
Myrtle was out of danger. Sister Withe had administered the remedy, and Myrtle reacted favourably. After a further treatment of camomile tea, she had fallen into a peaceful slumber.
Later, in Bella’s room, a meeting was held. Abbess Meriam looked sternly at her friends. ‘There was no way that wolfbane could have found its way into the kitchens, I’m certain. We must face this fact, somebeast put it there, possibly to harm Friar Bunfold. We have a poisoner in Redwall!’ The friends looked at each other, shaking their heads at this announcement.
Skipperjo addressed Sister Withe. ‘Beggin’ yore pardon, marm, but this wolfbane – d’you keep any in yore herbstocks?’
The good Sister pondered a moment. ‘Wolfban
e hmm, ah yes, I did have some, though I don’t think I ever found a use for it; old Brother Farrow who used to be the herbalist left it there.’
Redfarl nodded towards the infirmary. ‘I’ll wager it ain’t there any more. Go an’ take a peek, Sister.’
Withe was away and back in a short time, crying, ‘You’re right, it’s gone!’
Bella tapped her paws on the chair arms. ‘So, we’ve got a poisoner in the Abbey. What’s to be done about it? Nothing like this has ever happened before.’
Jodd the squirrelhare bowed elegantly. ‘Permit me, m’dears. I am afflicted with a wise old head on young shoulders, y’know. Subterfuge is called for here, wot. Leave it to us squirrels an’ otters, marm, I have a ruse or two up m’sleeve that I wager will lay the villain by his – or her – paws before the summer is much older.’
Redfarl winked at the Abbess. ‘Aye, ole Jodders might talk like a mole with a gobful of roses, marm, but y’can trust him to solve yer problem.’
Abbess Meriam tucked paws into sleeves and bowed lightly, saying, ‘I leave it in your capable paws, my friends!’
* * *
29
Next morning at breakfast, Great Hall was abuzz with the events of the previous night, though nobeast could venture an explanation or solution to it all. When the meal was finished, Abbess Meriam rapped the table with a spoon, calling the Redwallers to order.
‘Silence please. Stay where you are, everybeast, I have something to say to you all, and to one in particular. A terrible thing has happened. Never, in the history of our Abbey, has anything like this ever occurred. Last night our hogwife Myrtle was very close to death. She had been poisoned, but not by any accident. It is my opinion that Myrtle was poisoned by somebeast sitting here in our midst this morning!’
An uproar and clamour arose until Skipperjo thwacked the oak tabletop several times with his hefty rudderlike tail. ‘Order, mateys! Give order an’ let the Abbess marm ’ave ’er say!’
Meriam continued in a loud clear voice. ‘There is a poisoner among us, but whatever beast did this awful deed will not escape justice. Sister Withe!’
The slender mouse stood up, trembling slightly; she was not accustomed to public speaking. She piped up in a reedy voice, which grew bolder as she proceeded. ‘Whoever poisoned Myrtle used wolfbane, a plant that I know much about. If our poisoner knew much about wolfbane then he, or she, would have used gloves. Let me tell you why. Two days ago I picked the wolfbane, but I forgot to wear gloves to protect my paws. This morning when I woke to come down to breakfast I looked at my paws. See!’
Withe held up both paws for all to look at. They were a deep crimson red, as though they had been dyed. She explained to the hushed audience. ‘If you hold wolfbane with bare paws it will permanently stain them within two days of holding the plant. Luckily I learned to make up a herbal wash to remove the stain; I have a basin of it in the infirmary. After breakfast I will wash away the scarlet stains in my solution, but the poisoner has no such wash to do this simple task. So, friends, within the next day, or by early tomorrow, we will know who the poisoner is!’ Withe held up her reddened paws again.
‘The creature with paws that look like this!’
Veil let his paws drop slowly below table level, though he dearly wished that he could have raised them, to wipe away the sweat that was beading upon his nose. Chairs scraped and dishes clattered as the Redwallers rose to go about their day’s chores and pastimes. Veil remained seated. He felt stunned – this time he would not be able to deny his guilt. Unless he could sneak up to the infirmary and wash his paws in the special herbal bath.
Bryony and Togget practically leapt up from the table, skipping from Great Hall as they called to Veil.
‘Come on, Veil, the strawberries are ready to pick!’
‘Hurr, ee Froir Bunny sayed us’n’s c’n gather strawbees, tho’ ee doan’t loik us to eat ’em all, hoo hurr!’
‘C’mon, Veily, is your bottom stuck to that seat?’
The young ferret was gazing at his paws as he replied, ‘You go, I’ll catch you up later.’
By mid-afternoon Veil was convinced that his paws were beginning to redden. He had rubbed them hard on the grass by the south wall, scrubbed them more than a dozen times in the pond, and at one point even used a piece of sandstone to scour at them. His paws were sore, and the more he looked at them, the more he believed they were turning red. More than once he had wandered near the stairs to the infirmary, only to find squirrels and otters sitting, chatting on them. They showed no signs of moving, and the young ferret had to make himself scarce, or they would be suspicious.
At supper Veil’s seat was empty. Bryony leaned across to Togget as he shovelled up woodland trifle with all the gusto of a hungry young mole. ‘Have you seen Veil? It’s not like him to miss supper,’ she said.
Togget paused to down a half beaker of pear cordial. ‘Ummm, ee’m wurn’t lukkin’ too gudd this arternoon.’
Heartwood the old otter joined the conversation. ‘That young Veil you’re talkin’ about, meself an’ Brother Barlom saw ’im not an hour since, sittin’ in the bushes o’er by south wall. I tell you, he looked a bit pasty to me’n’Barlom, we sent him off to bed. Hah! Looked to me like he’d been eatin’ too many strawberries.’
Bryony helped herself to some woodland trifle. ‘Oh, is that all. He’ll be all right after a good night’s sleep. Did you send him off to his room?’
‘No, we let him have the little foldin’ bed in the gatehouse, nice an’ quiet in there if yore not feelin’ up t’the mark.’
After supper Bryony and Togget walked across the Abbey lawns to the gatehouse. The mousemaid knocked, calling, ‘Veil, it’s me, Bryony. Can I come in?’
The reply was loud and surly. ‘No y’can’t. Go ’way – I’m trying to sleep!’
‘B’ain’t you well, maister?’ Togget called back. ‘Zurr ’eartywood ee said you’m eated too many strawbees, hurr, oi never can eat enuff of ee strawbees, oi dearly do luvs em!’
Something struck the other side of the door. It sounded as if Veil had thrown a beaker. ‘Go away, I said. Go away! Why can’t you leave me alone?’ His voice was shrill with temper.
Pressing her face to the door, Bryony spoke softly. ‘Poor Veil, I’m sorry we disturbed you. Have a nice sleep if you don’t feel well; see you in the morning. Good night.’
There was no reply, so the mousemaid and her mole friend made their way back to the Abbey.
It had long gone midnight, and the skies were cloudy and moonless. A faint chill breeze caught Veil as he stole quietly from the gatehouse, a length of rope over one shoulder. Silent as a fleeting shadow, the young ferret crossed the Abbey lawns, rounding the south side of the great building. Veil stood back and looked up to the sickbay window. It was shut. He gnawed at his lip, looking desperately for a way in. Then he saw it. Bella’s room was next door to the sickbay and the window was half open.
Veil was strong and agile, and he found he did not need the rope. There was a small corner angle where the stonework was bumpy and rough. Wedging his back against one side and jamming his body into the wall angle, Veil found he could climb quite easily. There was no lack of pawholds, and soon he was up to the broad first-floor sandstone ledge which served as one long windowsill for all the rooms at that level. The stone here had been cut and dressed smoother than at the base. Veil lay flat and crawled along until he reached the open window. Holding his breath the ferret inched it open wider. It creaked slightly, but not very loud; he slipped inside.
Myrtle lay on the bed, covered by a quilted counterpane. Bella snored gently, lolling in the deep armchair that she seldom left these days. Veil stood on the cushioned windowseat and allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside. He saw a faint strip of light coming under the door, and slowly, softly, he made his way to it, taking care not to knock against any object he felt in his path. Then he was outside in the small corridor, which was dimly lit by a single lantern on a wall bracket. Closing Bella’s room
door carefully, he turned his attention to the door of the sickbay, which was slightly ajar. Veil put his eye to the space and peered in.
The sickbay was still and quiet, and it seemed unoccupied. For the first time that day a sly smile was on the young ferret’s face. Luck was finally with him.
There in the dim shaft of light thrown from the barely-open door he could see a table. A glint of copper told him that the basin of herbal solution stood on the tabletop. He opened the door wider and paused a moment – still no sound from within the sickbay. Good! Placing one footpaw carefully in front of the other, Veil made his way slowly to the table. With a deep sigh of relief he let his paws sink into the dark, cool herbal mixture; now he was safe.
‘Give ’em a good scrub, old lad – nothin’ worse than guilty paws. Wot, wot!’
Veil went stiff with shock!
Before he could make any movement the door banged wide open and the sickbay was flooded with light. Abbess Meriam, Skipperjo and Redfarl strode in, lanterns held high. Jodd was already in the room, sitting on a bed with a pillow plumped up behind his long ears. He winked at Veil. ‘Caught red-pawed I’d say, laddie buck!’
Veil’s paws were indeed red, as deep a red as Sister Withe’s paws had been at breakfast last morning. The herbal mixture was red too, a dark, purple-tinged crimson. Sister Withe entered the sickbay and, brushing past Veil, she dipped a paw in the mixture and licked it.
‘Beetroot juice, not very herbal, but it dyes red, as you’ve just found out. Poisoner!’
Veil snarled and launched himself at her, teeth bared. Jodd moved like a blur; one swift hard kick from his long footpaw connected with the ferret’s chin, knocking him spark out. They moved aside as Bella shuffled into the sickbay, and glanced at the prone figure on the floor.
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