The pair remained standing as Samolus came right to the point. “What ye can do for us, Nokko, is to tell us where you’ve been since teatime this afternoon.”
The Gonfelin looked from one to the other. “Why, wot’s up, mates, wot’s botherin’ ye?”
Abbot Glisam placed both paws in his habit sleeves. “My friend, you’d help us by answering the question.”
Sensing that it was a matter of some import, Nokko replied promptly, “Well, d’yer remember that sherrew, Bruster? I put ’im down with a good ole butt, just after ’e slung young Dwink inta the ditch earlier t’day. I tell ye, Abbo, that Bruster must ’ave an ’ead like a boulder. Ye can’t see it, but under this bandage I’ve got a right ole bruise, an’ a lump like a duck egg. I missed afternoon tea through it. Me skull began to ache somethin’ fierce, so I came up ’ere to Prince Gonff’s ole room, just to rest me pore ’ead. Afore I knew it I dropped off t’sleep on this liddle bed. Good job ye woke me, or I’d ’ave missed supper, an’ snored through until tomorrer!”
Samolus nodded. “So this is where you’ve been all afternoon.”
Nokko grinned guiltily. “That’s right, Samo, mate. Why?”
Feeling rather embarrassed, the Abbot answered, “Because the green Doomwyte Eye has been stolen, and Aluco was assaulted by whichever beast did it.”
Nokko leapt from the bed, a look of shock on his face. “Ye don’t think I did it, do ye?”
Shaking his head hastily, Abbot Glisam assured him, “No, my friend, something tells me that you could not find it in yourself to do such a mean act. However, an investigation will have to take place. Would you be willing to take part in it?”
Picking up the dark green hooded cloak, which had been folded neatly at the bottom of the bed, Nokko donned it. “Of course, Abbo, lead on!”
Bosie met them on the stairs to Great Hall. “We’ve searched yon sour-faced shrew’s room, but there was nought tae find. What now, Father?”
Glisam bowed to Nokko. “Excuse us a moment, sir.” Drawing to one side, he went into a huddle with Samolus and Bosie. After a whispered conference, Bosie favoured Nokko with an elegant bow.
“Ah hear ye’ve no’ had afternoon tea, let me take ye to the kitchens whilst we remedy the situation forthwith. We’ll take tea teagether, eh?”
The Gonfelin Pikehead was pleased, but puzzled. “Thank ye kindly, mate, but ’ave’nt yew already had yore tea?”
The gluttonous hare struck a noble, but long-suffering pose. “It fair pains me tae see a braw beast eat alone. Ah’ll force mahself tae endure another helping the noo!”
The venue chosen for the enquiry was at the scene of the crime. Samolus elected to set the stage, clearing the mass of onlookers to one side. Aluco was now back to his former self, having spurned all offers of aid from Brother Torilis. The tapestry of Martin the Warrior provided the backdrop, as Samolus issued instructions. “Silence, everybeast, thank you! Now, Aluco, would you take up your position at the spot where you were when you first saw the intruder.”
The tawny owl made his way to the niche, twixt column and wall, where he had begun his surveillance. “I was right here, just dozed off slightly, after a drink and a bit of afternoon tea.”
Samolus turned to the Abbot. “We’re ready now, Father.”
Having finished their repast, Bosie escorted Nokko to the candle sconce where the emerald had rested. The hare left the Gonfelin standing alone there.
Samolus put the question to the owl. “Is that the creature you saw earlier today?”
Aluco peered at the dimly lit figure in the late afternoon shadows. “Hmm, it could have been, tell him to turn his head slightly toward me, please.” Nokko did as asked, without any instruction. Aluco stared hard, declaring, “Aye, it could well have been the beast. I can see a touch of bandage showing from under the hood. Aye, I remember now, the beast was wearing a bandage around his head. I caught a glimpse of it as I was knocked down!”
Nokko’s pretty wife, Filgo, called out in protest, “All us Gonfelins are thieves, just as Prince Gonff was. But we ain’t sly villains, my Nokko would never steal from friends, or commit evil acts. It ain’t fair, that’s wot it ain’t!”
Bosie interrupted her tirade. “Ah’ll have tae ask ye tae be silent, marm, there’ll be no interferin’ wi’ this investigation, ye ken. So hauld yer wheesht an’ be a guidbeast, or Ah’ll have tae banish ye tae the orchard.”
Nokko smiled fondly at his pretty wife. “He’s right, me ole darlin’. Leave it to our Redwall mates, they’ll git t’the bottom o’ this.”
Angry words erupted across Great Hall, from the stairs. It was Tugga Bruster, who was being hauled to the scene by Skipper. The Log a Log was blustering and struggling in the Otter Chieftain’s firm grip.
“Git yer paws off’n me, riverdog, yew can’t make me go anyplace where I don’t wanna go!”
Skipper kept tight hold of the dark green habit that the shrew was wearing. “You come along quiet now, mate, there’s nothin’ t’fear from a few questions if yore innocent.”
The Guosim Log a Log clapped a paw to his bandaged head, slumping back as though he was fainting. “Leggo, can’t yer see I’m injured?” He caught Skipper unawares, sliding free of the flowing habit and kicking him hard in the stomach.
The otter responded with surprising speed. Falling backward on the stairs, he lashed out with his hefty rudder. Tugga Bruster received a thwack on the back of his neck which sent him tumbling down the remaining steps. He hit the floor facedown. There was a noise, like a pebble dropping, as the round, green emerald popped from his belt purse. In the silence which followed, it rolled slowly over the stones, coming to rest in front of the Abbot.
Tugga Bruster sprang upright, avoiding Skipper’s paws. He stared desperately about, yelling, “It’s a trick, that riverdog planted it on me!”
Bosie confronted him contemptuously. “Ach, ye canna’ dress a worm up as a warrior. Yer a miserable robber wi’ no a scrap of honour tae yore name!”
The culprit ducked around Bosie, grabbing the short rapier from the belt of a nearby shrew. He called to his tribe, “Rally t’me, Guosim! We’ll teach these stupid Redwallers a lesson afore we leaves this place. Logalogalogalooog.”
The battlecry went unheeded. Not a shrew moved. Turning cold faces from their shamed leader, they stared at the floor in stony silence.
Lacking his iron club, Tugga Bruster slashed the air with the rapier blade, shaking with rage. “Wot’s the matter, have ye got soil in yer ears? Charge ’em, that’s an order from me. I’m Tugga Bruster, Log a Log of all the Northern Guosim!”
One of the older shrews, Garul, shook his head. “Not anymore you ain’t, run whilst ye still have the chance, Bruster. Guosim don’t know ye anymore!”
Hatred flashed from the deposed Chieftain’s eyes. He flung the rapier, catching Garul in the shoulder, then he sped from Great Hall. Roaring in anger, the Guosim tribe chased after him.
Skipper curled his lip scornfully. “Let the coward go, an’ good riddance to him.”
Garul looked up from the floor, where Brother Torilis was tending his gashed shoulder. “Stay out of it, sir, Guosim deals out their own justice!”
Abbot Glisam bowed his head at Nokko. “Please accept our apologies, my friend, we were wrong ever to suspect you.”
The Gonfelin Pikehead laughed the whole thing off. “’Twasn’t yew t’blame, Abbo. Anybeast who took on a tribe of thieves as guests would be crazy not to suspect ’em if’n anythin’ went missin’. The main thing is that ye got yore nice, green jool back agin, ain’t that right, Filgo me beauty?”
The Gonfelin wife agreed. “Aye, that’s right enough, Father Abbo, wot belongs to Redwall should come back to Redwall. I think ye might get a nice surprise shortly. Who knows, another pretty stone could turn up, I’m thinkin’. Right, Nokko?”