Toad Triumphant (25 page)

“It may soon be a dreadful fact that all we have left of our friend is an empty and echoing Toad Hall, and a triumphal statue which is no more than a reminder of the empty life of vanity and false pomp that he led.”

Badger’s fears were amply confirmed all too soon, when they heard the awful news of Toad’s antics at His Lordship’s House, and his escape with the Count, and the many offences he had thereby committed. In grim confirmation of the seriousness of the matter, a posse of policemen appeared at Toad Hall to lie in wait for Toad’s return thinking he might try to steal in one night, for a change of clothes perhaps, or some general help from members of his household.

Grim and gloomy the weeks that followed, with constables hidden in every ditch and behind every tree, each one suspicious of the River Bank residents, and the likelihood that they would help Toad if they could.

This was made all the worse by the continuing absence of the Rat and the Mole, and the Badger retreated to his home with instructions to the Otter that he should be disturbed only when more news was received. While Prendergast, now much concerned himself, could only proceed with that matter he had promised Toad he would accomplish, which was making preparations for the Grand Opening of the new Toad Hall, set now for the last day of September.

But how hollow and sad it felt to be ordering balloons and bunting, to be arranging marquees and catering, and to be planning fetes, jousts, and jamborees upon the estate of a master whose feet might, by the time the Opening’s due date. arrived, already be dangling three feet above the ground, and so find it a little difficult to fulfil his proper function of cutting the ribbon and beginning the celebrations.

Yet none of this appeared in Prendergast’s eyes. ‘While the Badger stayed silent in his home, the Otter daily watched the River and roads for news, and all those other creatures along the River Bank waited with bated breath for news of Toad, and Rat and the Mole, Prendergast, the butler
par excellence,
continued with his duties, seemingly unperturbed.

“It certainly looks ill for Mr Toad,” he conceded on those nights that the Otter called in and shared a glass of sherry in the butler’s pantry “but I believe that in the end he
will
triumph over his present troubles. I really do.” Which words the Otter tried to find comforting.

This oppressive sense of waiting for further news that must inevitably be bad continued through August, and finally into September, with even Prendergast beginning to accept that his arrangements for the Grand Opening on the last day of the month might need to be postponed, or cancelled altogether.

But it was news of the Rat and the Mole that came first, and it was grim. One of the Otter’s rabbit spies came rushing to his residence with the news that broken beech twigs had come down-river in sufficient quantity and manner to leave in no doubt that this was one of the pre-arranged signals from the Rat, and one that told of danger and disarray.

“It certainly looks bad,” said the Otter, who went immediately to see the Badger, “but we must not act hastily. I talked with Ratty of this eventuality and we agreed that the last thing anyone wants is a rescue party rushing all over the place causing panic, confusion and endangering itself. This signal tells us that they have run into difficulties, and to watch and wait for further news.”

“We shall wait a fortnight then,” agreed the Badger.

While the Badger and the Otter fretted for their friends, Madame d’Albert had not been idle. The truth was — or had been — that she would have been no more than flattered and amused by Toad’s protestations of love, first at Toad Hall and later at His Lordship’s House, if that had been the extent of his transactions there.

She enjoyed Toad’s amatory antics in the same spirit as any widowed lady likes such attention, regarding swooning swains, floral gifts, and preposterous proposals of marriage from mature gentlemen who should know better as no more than her due, and a pleasant diversion from the daily toil and moil of life.

But in the fatal moment that Toad had leapt to the defence of her son (than whom in Madame’s eyes there was no better child in the whole world, nor one more deserving of being granted every material indulgence he asked for, always provided he did not make too many demands of a more genuinely maternal kind upon one whose Artistic Muse was now her only
raison d’être)
her regard for Toad had taken a more serious turn.

Not that Madame had previously desired to be wed again, for the daily practical inconvenience of a son was quite enough without adding to it the responsibilities of caring for a husband.

But the Madame was sufficiently aware of her maternal shortcomings to appreciate how helpful it might be to have at her side a male companion to take from her the responsibilities of entertaining a growing lad, one who through the recent peripatetic years of travel in the cause of Art had become wilful, spoilt, over-indulged and generally troublesome, as youths very often do, rich or poor.

In addition to this practical aspect, Toad’s selfless actions on behalf of her son had touched something deep within her heart. Here, it seemed, was a gentleman who did not regard her son as an obstacle to be overcome and pushed to one side on the way to the fulfilment of his passion for herself, here was a swain who might have escaped to safety if he had wished, but who instead risked his life and liberty for the one upon whom she doted more than any other.

Here was one worthy of such love as she had to give, and now suddenly found she
wished
to give. Here, in short, was one whom Madame now wished impulsively and passionately to make her own, and intended to make her own, and certainly would make her own. Someone whose physical form she might also, while she was at it, turn into the greatest sculpture expressive of imperial triumph she had ever made. Thus, all unwittingly Toad’s impulsive action at His Lordship’s House had done more than a thousand declarations of love might do, and ten thousand stolen bouquets.

Had Toad known this, and even half suspected the energy and resolute determination that the Madame put into any projects she took under her wing, including love, he might very well have started having nightmares featuring predatory female spiders in webs, or Amazons battling for their puny mates, or even dragonesses luring kindly gentleman-dragons into escape-proof lairs, which might have made unpleasant dreams of incarceration in the Castle dungeon seem positively benign. But Toad did not yet know of the change in her heart, and for the time being at least could continue to sleep relatively easily at night.

Meanwhile, unable to devote herself directly to the fugitive Mr Toad of Toad Hall, the Madame was putting all her impressive energy into negotiating a lifting of all charges against him and her son. She had taken very ill, very ill indeed, the appalling assault by various constables, clerks and clerics upon her little boy and the moment Toad had escaped with him, she had protested loud and long to the High Judge, the Commissioner of Police and the Senior Bishop over the matter, and even more concerning the subsequent hue and cry which had turned into a manhunt complete with a pack of vicious hounds and rough brutish men with shotguns normally used for shooting plump pheasants and despatching foxes.

At first things had not gone well, and she found herself ignored. Even the threat, which she had regarded as ultimate, that if they did not call off their hunt for Mr Toad and the Count forthwith she would never in any circumstances complete the statue the three had commissioned from her, fell on deaf ears, though the gentlemen did express some disappointment and asked her to reconsider.

“Madame,” the High Judge had said chillingly “I shall regret it if you do not proceed with the work, but we cannot very well set ourselves up as the models, the literal models, for Justice, Law and the Established Church and at the same time allow such a pair of criminals as this Mr Toad of Toad Hall and your delinquent son to roam free of retribution and terrorize the land!”

“But he is only a boy and he is my son,” wept the Madame, feeling that a show of tears might help.

“He is a juvenile criminal and you should be at least reassured to know our criminal code is gentler than your own country’s for one such as him. There I believe he would be confirmed in solitary confinement upon Devil’s Island for a minimum of sixty years, while here we are more relaxed and I estimate that he will get no more than thirty years or so in Dartmoor Prison for the crimes he has committed, with maternal visits allowed once every two years.”

“But, monsieur,” she continued, trying a different tack, “these crimes as you describe them were committed only in the course of a passionate moment made wild by the extreme emotions my cousin feels for me. Does not a
crime passionnel
have a special place in your law? Mr Toad and my son, they did it for love! Is that mot mitigating?”

“Love mitigating?” responded the High Judge with a bleak laugh. “Why in our courts the plea of love mitigating and extenuating is very rarely to be recommended, as it is generally taken as a sign of the feeble mind so characteristic of the more violent criminal classes, so I strongly advise you not to use it for the defence. Mere mention of that passion you call love as having been involved will at least double the length of these criminals’ sentences and in the case of capital punishment (which I must warm you is a very likely sentence in the case of the infamous Mr Toad) it will be taken as evidence sufficient to speed up to a matter of a few hours the execution once such sentence is passed.”

“Monsieur!” said the Madame, now distressed and outraged. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“Appeal to your nation for help, to your Government, to your country’s President himself and perhaps, madame, if he comes cap in hand to our monarch then sentences might be reduced by a month or two and your visiting rights improved to as much as once a year.”

The High Judge, like so many such eminent personages of the male gender who are of advanced years, was a poor judge of female passions, and a worse politician. The Madame was so incensed by what she heard that she straightway went to the Town and called upon the French Ambassador, waking him from his slumbers with her tale of national insult and aggression against the French nation in the form of one of its most ancient families, namely the d’Albert-Chapelles, and the person of one of that family’s most sweet and innocent members.

Here was a clear case of the Anglo-Saxon hordes crossing the Channel once more and inflicting cruel and grievous harm upon the women and children of Gaul. The Madame spoke most eloquently for even as the initial search for Toad and his accomplice upon his escape was adjourned, the diplomatic wheels of state were set in motion, and by dawn a telegraphic message lay upon the bureau of an official, a very senior official of the Elysée Palace, the residence of the President of France and all its colonies.

Such matters generally take two or three years to set in motion, but so serious was this one taken to be that within a matter of weeks, which is to say about the time that Toad had reached the Hat and Boot Tavern and had begun his absurd wagers concerning the Mole and the Rat’s return, the President of France had taken action and instructed a personal emissary to call officially upon the Court of St James and let his feelings be unequivocally known.

Within hours of that Court’s haughty response, which foolishly made mention of Agincourt and Waterloo, and the unimpressive performance of the Gauls against the Romans, French warships were afloat in the Channel, and soon after that the guns of various frigates and destroyers were trained upon those symbols of national pride, the white cliffs of Dover and its Castle.

Over the exchanges that then ensued between ambassadors, generals, synods, national newspapers, hastily convened war cabinets and finally and most decisively between the Monarch and the President themselves (just then about to meet mid—Channel to put their respective seals upon an agreement concerning mutual economic and cultural endeavour, a proceeding now seriously jeopardized) a veil of secrecy must be cast for one hundred and fifty years, as is the custom in matters such as this.

But a solution was found, an accommodation made, a compromise agreed, so that Mr Toad of Toad Hall and his accomplice were exonerated, and an exchange of medals between the Royal Society and the Légion d’Honneur to a variety of judges, commissioners of police and bishops made.

In brief, the unfortunate incident regarding Mr Toad, and the insult to France in the person of the Comte d’Albert-Chapelle and the Dowager Countess, the Madame, was hushed up in the interests of everybody and every state concerned.

Thus it was that at the very moment that Mr Toad stood up in that infamous Tavern near Lathbury to make his final wager, he and his assistant were being pronounced innocent and cleared of all charges that arose from the incident at His Lordship’s House and, with the final proviso that Madame now agreed to proceed with that work of art she had begun that was to represent and laud the power of the Law, the majesty of Justice and the uplifting spirit of the Established Church, the matter was satisfactorily settled all round.