“Please, My Lord,” said Mrs Ffleshe, whose delight at having Lord Mallice to lunch had developed first into pleasure and then adoration, an emotion he appeared to return, “will you accept some more brandy before you make that suggestion?”
“From your fair hand, madam, I would accept a glass of water and believe it to be brandy,” said he gallantly, for rarely had he found so eloquent and satisfactory a witness as his hostess.
“O My Lord!” she sighed. “This truly is a Happy Christmas.”
“So,” said Lord Malice, gathering his wits once more, “I believe there are grounds to arrest this gentleman at once and have him in court on the morrow, and swinging on the gallows the day following, if such is to be his punishment, in time for us all to return to tea and scones, even allowing for his appeal, which will be dismissed on my personal recommendation.
“I am certain this can be achieved because I took the liberty on my way here today of calling in at the Village to affirm a curious historic fact of which I had read, namely, that no Act of Parliament was ever passed repealing the rights of the Lordship of this parish to try its own cases, and mete out its own justice.
“Indeed, there still remains a working gaol where the criminal can be safely held, a court house where he can be fairly tried, a dungeon that holds implements of persuasion which may be reasonably used to extract the truth and thus save much time in cross-examination, and a method of punishment that is as final as they come, namely hanging, drawing and quartering.
“Around this very table we have all the officials we need to arrest the suspect, stand witness to his crimes, act as prosecutor and judge and finally, if one of the widows of the late bishops here will agree, to offer spiritual support to the accused, hear his confession and administer last rites.
“To complete matters, and make them entirely legal, we have a Parish Clerk in the Village who has satisfied me that he is ready, eager and able to make the correct entries in the trial, punishment and mortality rolls —though my conversation with him earlier today was purely hypothetical. I little imagined that I would encounter such a hardened criminal upon whom I might try out this local justice. I have rarely met a Clerk so very eager to do this work and if he is willing to do it over the Christmas recess then I have little doubt that I can secure for him a knighthood.
“Now; may I suggest we toast our good fortune that the spirit of Christmas should have put so interesting and wholesome a case our way? After that we must act quickly and arrest the criminal Toad.”
“Sir,” said Mrs Ffleshe, “I should warn you that he has a gang of low-class fellows in his employ of whom we should be wary — a threat to their leader might lead them to extreme actions.”
“‘Who are they?” said Malice in a grim voice.
“The first, and strongest, is Badger, an idle woodsman. His friend is a water rat known locally as Ratty — he is a waterman of the cunning sort and not to be trusted. Otter is an idle fellow with a son who to my knowledge has no mother, so you can imagine what class of person he is. O yes, sir! That is the low sort they are! And, finally, there is one who calls himself Mr Mole of Mole End. He puts on a respectable front, which causes me to think he may be more dangerous and corrupt than the rest of them put together!”
“Then we need reinforcements before we attempt to make an arrest,” said Lord Malice. “Can we summon some help from the Village perhaps?”
“I can do better than that,” said Mrs Ffleshe.
“Madam, you are a woman of infinite resource,” cried Lord Malice with passion, involuntarily taking her hand in his own.
“The Villagers are a knock-kneed lot,” said she, entwining her fingers in his. “However, those who live in the Wild Wood, namely the weasels and stoats, have been harshly treated by Toad’s gang in the recent past, from what I hear. I shall send a message out to them and I believe we shall soon have all the help we need.”
“Let it be so!” said Lord Mallice delightedly, most reluctantly releasing her hand. “Let it be so!”
Toad and his friends had debated the question of arresting Mrs Ffleshe long and hard, and all but the Mole preferred this course of action. For though the impetus for that idea had come from him, he had had second thoughts, pointing out that Christmas Day was a time for peace, charity and goodwill and perhaps if they all spoke to Mrs Ffleshe nicely…
The others, particularly the practical Water Rat, were unconvinced.
“Give such an enemy half a chance and they attack first, eh Otter?”
Otter nodded.
“Well, at least we could go to the Village and talk to the Parish Clerk again,” said the Mole.
“We might,” said the Badger, who was standing by the window, “but see how the day is already growing dark and if I am not mistaken a great deal colder — and —good heavens!”
His sudden alarm brought silence, and his whispered command to blow out the candles was instantly obeyed.
“What is it, Badger?”
“Look! There, in the shadows. There!”
They looked and saw: weasels and stoats, a good many of them.
“And over there! I can scarcely believe it!”
Making his way to the Hall’s front door, bold as brass, was the Chief Weasel, an unpleasant character known to them all, and at his side several hench-stoats.
No sooner did he knock at the front door than Toad’s bedroom door opened and in hurried Miss Bugle in some distress.
“Mr Toad, sir, it’s the weasels and stoats. They’ve surrounded the house and now the gentlemen who came to luncheon are coming up the stairs with a warrant for your arrest. Fly, sir, fly!”
“Badger and I will delay ‘em,” cried the Rat even as they heard the sounds of heavy, determined footsteps on the main stairs. “Otter and Mole, you’d better get Toad out of the Hall to safety as fast as you can!”
“But — but I’m still in my nightshirt,” spluttered Toad, and I haven’t finished my champagne —”No time for that!” said the Mole with determination, grabbing his dressing gown and hurrying him to the bedroom door. “Miss Bugle, lead the way!”
It was not a moment to argue, or dawdle. As the Rat and the Badger took up their stations at the top of the stairs to confront the arresting officers, Mole and Toad followed Miss Bugle to the back stairs, with the Otter taking up their rear.
What instinct was it that told the fugitives that a posse of weasels and stoats awaited them on the cobbles outside the kitchen door? Whatever its name, it prompted them to change their plans swiftly. They stopped short of opening the door, and Toad and Mole crept inside the coal cellar — which Mole knew all too well — and allowed Miss Bugle to shut and bolt the door upon them.
While Otter and Miss Bugle hurried back to help Rat and Badger, Mole and Toad stood in silence, with lumps of anthracite in their hands as weapons in case they had to make a fight of it, as they listened to the search parties running back and forth above their heads, and up and down the Hall stairs.
They were not discovered, and when dusk fell outside they did not wait for Miss Bugle to risk her own safety by releasing them, but put into operation a plan that the Mole had considered when he had been confined in this same place, but which he could not act upon for lack of a helper.
“Toad,” he commanded firmly, for Toad was shivering with fear as well as cold, “kneel down so that I can climb on to your back.”
In other circumstances he would have done this service for Toad, and let his host raise the coal—hole cover and climb out first, but the sad truth was that he did not trust him. He rather fancied that once Toad sniffed the freedom of the fresh air above he would do a bunk and leave Mole behind, just as he had before.
Toad whinged and whined but the Mole would have none of it.
“Kneel down, Toad,” he whispered urgently, “or I shall call for help and turn you over to the law!”
This did the trick, and soon the Mole was on Toad’s back, pushing at the heavy cover above his head before finally puffi
ng himself to freedom.
There were some horse harnesses hanging from a nail nearby and these he attached to a post and dropped down to Toad so that he could clamber up. Then they scampered across the drive and crept beneath a hedge till it got dark, shaking and shivering with cold.
Several times patrols of weasels and stoats went by, and once a brace of policemen. Then, when the coast seemed clear, they crawled right under the hedge, across the lane, into the field beyond and crept by starlight down towards the River.
Their plan was to make their way to the bridge and, if they could cross it undetected, to try to reach the safety of Otter’s house, for they were sure that a search party would have been sent to Mole End.
That the Mole should thus find himself a fugitive from the law with Toad was not, in truth, something he had expected upon Christmas Day. Yet, he reflected, since that fateful first meeting with Ratty two years before, he had found himself in a great many situations that his humdrum life till then could not have led him to expect. He trusted he might in time look back on this particular adventure with a degree of equanimity, but for the moment —”What’s that?”
Toad suddenly clutched his arm, indicating that he had heard something coming through the reeds towards them.
“It’s nothing, Toad, please keep calm,” said the Mole in a mollifying way “Now; we had better —”
“And that?”
Toad clutched his arm again and it was all Mole could do to keep him still and low.
“Really, Toad, it is nothing but your imagination. Now follow me and we’ll be at the bridge in no time. Our pursuers have probably long since given up the chase.”
Mole’s voice slowed, for this time it was he who thought he had heard something, and seen something as well. It was a low whistle he heard, and sudden lights he saw; red lights, but strangely fierce, as of some ferocious night creature on the far bank.
“Come on, Toad, there’s nothing there,” said Mole bravely.
O, but there was. All about them in the dark they heard sinister sliding and slurrying, strange warning grunts and half-screams, malicious clicks and knocks, and caught brief glimpses of livid eyes, and shining teeth and weapons catching the dim night light.
“O, Mole,” said Toad in a terrified voice, “they’re after us! Better to be caught at once than have to bear this ghastly suspense.”
“Pull yourself together,” said the Mole firmly, though he greatly regretted he had not thought to bring along a few lumps of coal to serve as weapons. “We’ll soon be at the bridge.”
He was right. Its arch loomed in the darkness ahead of them and seemed quite deserted.
“Listen, Toad,” said the Mole. “Please try to stop your teeth chattering and your knees knocking, and keep your eyes cast down, for I can see their whites quite clearly in the dark.”
“O Moly,” moaned Toad, “we are done for. They will stalk us through the night and roast us alive on their spits for their Christmas feast.”
“When I say ‘go!’, we shall go,” said Mole. “Keep in the shadow of the bridge wall and do not make a sound. Do you understand?”
“Don’t you think we should just give ourselves up?” said Toad in a thin, quavering voice. “Then perhaps they will show mercy and put us to death at once —O! O! O!”
These exclamations of alarm followed the sudden drumming of feet beneath the bridge, and then a high, cackling laugh.
“We can see you, Toad, we can see you!”
“O Mole,” said Toad, “I can’t bear it!”
With that, Toad broke free of Mole and the shadows in which they hid, and ran out on to the road, his hands raised in the air. “I am here! Torment me no more! Take me!” It did occur to Mole that this offered himself the perfect opportunity of escape, but he could not bring himself to do it. He ran after Toad, caught up with him, and stood protectively at his side as from the shadows of the ditches on either side of the bridge stoats and weasels emerged, grinning, cackling and whetting their weapons for what seemed likely to be the kill. But as Toad fainted clean away, and Mole stood firm to fight what he felt sure was his last fight, some larger figures loomed out of the night — lords and ladies, and several constables, and in no time at all the two fugitives were put in handcuffs.
They were led back to Toad Hall, on whose steps Mrs Ffleshe waited with a rolling pin.
“That’s him,” she cried, pointing at Toad, “and that’s the villainous Mr Mole of Mole End.”
The game was up, it seemed. The only comfort that the Mole found in this situation was that in the chaos and gloom he noticed the Otter making his escape in one direction while Miss Bugle went off in another. Where they went to the Mole did not see, but he hoped they might perhaps make a rendezvous with the Badger and the Rat at some later time.
In this the Mole judged his friends well, for those two sterling animals had done their best to halt the advance of Mrs Ffleshe’s allies, and confuse the chase. Now they appeared to protest Toad and Mole’s innocence, but were warned that they might be arrested for obstructing the police. They were escorted to the boundary of Toad’s estate and told to go peaceably home. They did not, however. Instead, they watched from beyond the line of weasels and stoats who stood as gloating guards at the gates, and from this frustrating situation witnessed the final humiliation of Toad and Mole.
For Lord Malice appeared on the steps of the Hall next to Mrs Ffleshe, and by candlelight he read out three token charges against the manacled Toad: for treason, for murderous assault and for failing to declare himself a criminal. While against the handcuffed Mole was laid the charge of resisting arrest.
He then gave orders for the criminals to be conveyed post-haste to the Village Gaol, there to await the pleasure of the Lord of the Manor, or his representative.
Toad and Mole were roughly taken to Lord Malice’s carriage and handcuffed to its rear like common criminals on the way to the gallows. In vain did Toad protest. It mattered not that he was master of the Hall and they his guests, and the weasels and stoats all trespassers.
With the crack of a whip the carriage set off and Toad’s cries and shouts were drowned out by the sonorous noise of the carriage wheels as they turned across his cobbles.
“An ‘appy exmas, Mr Toad!” mocked the weasels.
“And a hespecially Merry Christmas to you, sir, Mr Mole!” laughed the stoats, who were only too happy to gain their revenge upon an animal who had fought and beaten them on that historic occasion a year or two before when they had been ousted after their illegal takeover of Toad Hall.
“Fiends,” growled the Badger as his two friends were dragged by, forced to run to keep up with the carriage and prevent themselves falling on their faces in the mud and dirt.
“We’ll think of something, Mole!” called out the Rat.
“Toad, keep your spirits up, we’ll get justice for you!”
IX
Under Lock and Key
By the time they reached the Village the two accused were exhausted from the struggle of keeping up with the coach to which they had been so cruelly tied. They were so enfeebled that neither was capable of offering any resistance at their moment of final confinement.
The Parish Clerk, having been forewarned by a horseback rider that criminals had been arrested in the Parish and were being sent to him “at the behest of the de facto representative of the Lord of Session and of the Manor”, did not hesitate to do his duty and abandon his Christmas fireside. Indeed, he was delighted to do so, for the case sounded like a capital one and would mean he could end his days as Parish Clerk on a high note.
For this reason the fact that it was Mr Toad of Toad Hall who was the main accused, and Mr Mole of Mole End who was his accomplice, and that he had a high regard for both, mattered not to the Parish Clerk. In any case the cast-iron wheels of justice had begun to turn, and it was his ancient duty and bounden task to oil them, and see they continued to turn as smoothly as they might.
He was therefore ready and waiting o
n the bridge when they arrived, a great ring of keys in his hand, the padlocks of the Gaol already undone and its door invitingly left open at the bottom of the steps which the Mole had descended with such curiosity only two days before.
Now, with the roar of the river in their ears, and the clanking of their handcuffs, they were led down the steps and into the gloom of the Gaol by the Clerk, who carried a storm lantern to light the way.
“You will find every comfort within,” said he in a friendly way, “as is prescribed by ancient statute. There is a stone slab for your bed, which will accommodate you both, a bucket for water from the culvert, and your food will be passed through this flap in the door once a day In addition, there is a window to give you light, and a grille in the door which will do likewise. A candle has been lit to give you even more light and warmth. Guard it well, for it is the only one you will have this week.”
“Is there no food?” cried Toad pitiably.
“You have missed your meal today, gentlemen, but fear not, a dry crust of bread will be served in the morning.” Toad groaned, while the Mole attempted a feeble protest till the Clerk interrupted him.
“Be of good cheer, for you are fortunate indeed to have been arraigned in the festive season, when I am glad to say that the rules permit your gaoler (which is to say myself) a degree of latitude!”
A look of hope came to Toad’s eye, and visions of good food of the kind so essential for his daily comfort.
“Now, I would normally be permitted in these circumstance to allow you a roast goose or two, cranberry and apple sauces, and plenty of choice roasted vegetables, but…”
“But what?” cried Toad.
“But since you have a previous conviction, Mr Toad, and the current charges are so very serious, my generosity must be statutorily restrained to the provision of a mite of beef dripping each.”
The Willows at Christmas Page 11
