“Socialist!” cried a third. that after everything this … gentleman has done, you still have it in your great heart to forgive him?”
“I have, my sweet Lord — set him free!”
“O, madam,” said Lord Malice, “I have never heard so affecting a plea. It is as if a little babe, having been struck down by a drunken and cruel brute, yet stands up in her holy innocence and cries ‘Papa, I forgive you!”‘
Lord Mallice, to whom tears were as alien as a monsoon in the Sahara, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and affected to wipe away a tear.
“My Lord Pitiless,” he said, handing him his kerchief, “use mine, I beg you!” For that Judge was now weeping openly at what he had heard, as were many of the crowd.
Throughout this last tirade Toad had wisely said nothing. But there was a look of incredulity on his face born first of Mrs Ffleshe’s brazen lies, and second that the crowd should have been taken in by them.
“Toad of Toad Hall,” said the Judge Perspicacious, “the charges against you are so serious and the evidence we have heard so strong that of itself it condemns you to penal servitude for seventy-five years with no remission after you have been executed, but I suppose we must hear your side of the story for form’s sake.
“Lord Mallice, pray ask the prisoner the Dolorous Question and may the Court know that upon his reply will his ordeal depend. But please, I beg you, let us make it brief.”
“I understand, My Lord,” said Lord Mallice, looking at his pocket watch and seeing it was nearly time for lunch.
“Mr Toad, I must now ask you the Dolorous Question. Are you ready?”
“Well, I mean to say, old chap,” spluttered Toad, “I might be ready if I knew exactly what the Dolorous Question was.”
“I shall ask it and we shall see if you do,” said Lord Malice acidly.
A silence fell on the Court so profound that the pattering of a mouse’s feet might be heard, and indeed was heard.
“Well then, Mr Toad, did you, or did you not?” asked Lord Mallice.
“I beg your pardon?” asked Toad.
“Did you, or did you not?”
“Did I what?” asked the exasperated Toad.
The gasp from the crowd and the Judges’ shaking heads indicated that this was not the reply most favourable to him.
“I say again,” cried Lord Malice, “did you —?”
“Well, I might have done, I suppose,” essayed the reluctant Toad once more.
Three ladies and a bishop’s wife fainted, and two gentlemen too, while a third, whose voice had been heard before, cried out, “You’re not only a cad, but a bounder too!”
“But then again I might not have done,” said Toad, trying to recover lost ground, “because — because —”
He was now grasping at straws and not finding many “Because what?” asked Lord Mallice, a triumphant look in his eye such as a scorpion sports when it has its prey vulnerable before it and believes it cannot get away.
“Because,” said Toad, his voice calm now, “I had to.” This astonishing assertion caught Lord Mallice unawares, and the Judges too. All four opened their mouths in blank astonishment.
“Yes,” said Toad, “not only that, but I am certain, positively certain, that there is not a gentleman or a lady in this Court who in such a circumstance might not have done the same!”
“He is a villain!” cried a voice. “That’s quite certain.”
“But a clever one!” observed the Judge Perspicacious.
“Very!” said Purposeful.
“But not quite clever enough,” observed Pitiless. “My case rests, My Lords,” said Lord Malice. “May we now proceed to trial by ordeal?”
“But I have something else to say’ said the desperate Toad.
“You have said it, prisoner, and most eloquently, for which reason we are giving you the opportunity for ordeal sooner rather than later.”
“That is very kind, My Lord, but —” said Toad, his voice faltering.
At the word “ordeal” the two gentlemen in the pit had begun to remove the drapes and sheets and the crowd fell utterly silent once more, fascinated by the emergence into view of the machines infernal.
The two gentlemen, still masked, stood to attention by the rack and said, “Permission to speak, sir!”
“Granted.”
“Deathwatch reporting for duty, sir!”
“And Beadle, sir! All present, working and ready, sir!” They shouted so loud that dust fell from the hammerbeam roof above.
“Proceed,” said the Judge Pitiless.
One of the constables guarding Toad opened the gate from the dock and Toad was ushered down. To his great credit he did not struggle, or shout, and showed no fear.
Instead he said, “My lords, ladies and gentlemen!”
“That is enough, prisoner, your silence will be more eloquent than your words.”
“Shall we rack ‘im, spit ‘im, hang ‘im or burn ‘im, sir?”
“Clerk, do the statutes ordain an order for the trials?”
“They do, My Lords, my word they do. The entire proceedings are void and defunct if the trials proceed in the wrong order, which is to say for example, that racking is after spitting which comes before tining but not after pronging, any one of which if carried out too soon or too late gives the prisoner right of protest.”
“We see,” said the three Judges simultaneously.
“Which is the first ordained trial?”
“I would not advise axing,” said the Parish Clerk, “for that is so serious a mis-ordering that the prisoner gets off scot-free after it, always providing he can pick himself up off the ground to make his protest, as it were. The first, since you ask, is boiling.”
“Boiling let it be!” said Pitiless.
Deathwatch and Beadle grasped Toad by the arms and hoisting him clean off his legs bore him to a great vat of water beneath which a small fire was sending out feeble flames. As they dropped him in with a splash, there was a sudden gasp from the crowd.
Toad had closed his eyes when he was put in but opened them after a moment and splashed about a little.
“Hmm. It is rather tepid, in the manner of the Ritz, in Paris,” he observed, as one who was a connoisseur of such things.
“Wot’s tepid?” asked one of the crowd, speaking for many.
“Not quite hot enough, nor quite cold enough,” replied Toad helpfully.
Toad looked at the Judges and they looked at him, and then all of them looked expectantly at Messrs Deathwatch and Beadle.
“We ‘ad trouble with the logs wot is damp, me ludships, sir!” said Deathwatch.
“The prisoner is excused the boiling,” said the Judge Purposeful. “Parish Clerk, what’s next?”
“Racking, My Lords, which is to say stretching and pulling.”
“Rack him,” said Pitiless.
Deathwatch and Beadle, anxious to show that their equipment could perform rather better this time, hoisted the now dripping Toad out of the vat of tepid water and laid him on the rack, putting each of his wrists through a harsh metal loop.
“The left side’s not quite tight enough,” said Toad. Then, after a moment or two, he added, “No, that’s the right, my man — I said the left. But come to think of it the right’s not too good either. My dear chap, why don’t you simply let me hold on to it — for I once played the pianoforte and my grip is really quite good — and then you can fasten my feet and we will all see if it works.”
“‘E’s a cool one,” said a member of the crowd with admiration.
“A bounder but a calm bounder,” said the one who had called him cad.
Deathwatch and Beadle struggled a little more at Toad’s wrists before turning to his feet and discovering, to their embarrassment, that the rack was much too long for its victim.
“‘E’s too short, sir, and in consequence even if he ‘olds on wiv ‘is hands one end ‘is feet cannot be attached at the other end, sir!”
While they were debating th
e matter, Toad sat up and wandered off to have a closer look at some of the other appliances, which drew even more admiring remarks from the crowd. Some of the ladies who had fainted now began to give him coy and admiring glances. One asked for his autograph, which he gave with a flourish.
“My Lords,” said Toad, “may I just say that the Iron Maiden, though it is not quite flattering to my figure and looks a trifle over-large, does offer prongs that overlap and so it might work, though I couldn’t be sure till we try it.”
“Wrong ordination,” said the Parish Clerk.
“I’ll waive my right to object,” said Toad, “for I am getting hungry and am looking forward to my luncheon, not having eaten very much else but dry crusts of late.”
The Judges gave their approval.
Unresisting, and with a last wave to his now admiring audience, Toad was placed inside the Iron Maiden and to cries of “Good Luck!” the spike-filled door was shut upon him.
Terrible cries issued forth, and muffled shouts, and then grim silence.
“‘E’s done for this time, but ‘e put up a good show,” said one of the Villagers.
“It cannot be,” wept one of the fainting ladies, “he was so brave and did not look like a criminal at all.”
“Open up and see what is left inside,” said Purposeful. Deathwatch and Beadle did so and to everybody’s astonishment, and to Lord Mallice’s evident discomfiture, Toad stepped out breathing heavily and took a bow.
“Tight, but not tight enough,” said Toad with great aplomb once he had got his breath back. “You tore my suit, I’m afraid, and broke a button, which is why I cried out, and after that I had to hold my breath and keep my tummy in.
“Now don’t be downhearted, Mr Deathwatch and Brother Beadle, for this is no ordinary, run-of-the-mill criminal you are dealing with. This is innocence personified. You see before you one who has escaped from tighter spots than this. My name is Toad, Toad of Toad Hall, and I defy your instruments to cause me discomfort, but I will sue you personally if they cause further damage to my apparel!”
This speech, Toad’s first real one, drew applause from the crowd, some of it rapturous, and it was all too plain that the Judges would have to take things in hand if the trial were not to swing in Toad’s favour.
The Judge Pitiless stood up and said, “Leave this to me.” Then to Deathwatch and Beadle he said, “Put him in that iron cage and swing him over the brazier.”
“Braising is not till after strining’ warned the Parish Clerk.
“The prisoner has waived his rights in perpetuity,” said Pitiless. “Do it.”
It would have been better if Toad had protested, as he had every right to do. But he was enjoying himself now and, convinced of his own invincibility, he offered no resistance. He climbed into the cage of his own free will, closed the door behind him and even helped to hold the padlock as the masked duo fastened it.
They attached a rope that was already threaded through a pulley in the beams above and hoisted Toad aloft, from where he began to declaim his own brilliance and excellence, and explained that as a Toad he was not made as others were, so none should attempt any of his feats in the privacy of their own homes where help might not be at hand.
“In fact, ladies and gentlemen, in fact —But now, as he was swung over the brazier and lowered through its rising smoke towards its bright and ready flames, his voice faltered and he observed, “Hang on, this is hot, and getting hotter. In fact, it is really very hot —rather too hot in my opinion, and my shoes — why my shoes are beginning to burn! I say you chaps, could you perhaps — please could you — I mean — help!”
Up till this moment in the proceedings, by virtue of his silence and stillness, and because his box remained in shadow, His Royal Highness the Prince had said nothing. Now, however, he intervened, though few saw him do so. He signalled to one of the court officials and passed a note from the box which he indicated should be taken up to a certain gentleman on the upper row.
The gentleman he pointed at was Mole.
Even as Toad’s cries became more outraged and, it must be said, more desperate, and the rich odours of burning leather and singeing Harris tweed began to fill the Court Room, Mole received the note, read it, looked up in amazement and not a little glee and indicated to the Rat and the Otter where the note had come from.
Then the Mole leapt to his feet and cried, “On behalf of the accused, I demand compurgation and the wager of law!”
Once before the Judges had appeared surprised; this time they were utterly dumbfounded.
“Compurgation?” spluttered Purposeful. “Wager of law?” gasped Pitiless. “It does seem so, I fear,” concluded the Judge Perspicacious. “Bring him down!”
Deathwatch and Beadle duly swung the perspiring Toad away from the brazier and back down to ground level.
“Mr Toad,” said Purposeful, “kindly stop smouldering and return to the dock.”
Toad did so.
“There has been a plea on your behalf for compurgation, which is to say —”
“Which is to say,” said the Parish Clerk, “that if twelve good men and true herein testify by shouting ‘Aye’ to your character then you will be let off scot-free and the chief witness tried in your place.”
“But — but —!” expostulated Mrs Ffleshe in horror. “My dearest,” said Lord Malice with cunning mien, “be of good cheer, for if twelve good men and true do not testify and only eleven or ten or nine come forward then Mr Toad shall be instantly tined, and those oathtakers likewise, is that not so, Parish Clerk?”
“It is,” said the Parish Clerk, turning up ancient statute to confirm the point.
“So,” said the Judge Pitiless, “let those who would testify to the condemned’s character raise their right hand and call out ‘Aye’.”
Six hands went up immediately, comprising the entire Action Committee from the Village, and the gentleman who had called Toad a cad and bounder but had come to admire him. Each in turn cried “Aye!”
“Six thus far,” said Pitiless. “Six more are needed.” Two more hands went up; two more “Ayes” were heard. “Four short,” said Pitiless.
A grim silence fell upon the crowd.
After a further pause Lord Malice, looking smug, said, “My Lords, it is perfectly obvious —”
“Aye!” called a voice from the crowd.
It was the Otter.
And then “Aye!” and “Aye!”
It was Ratty and Mole.
“One more is needed,” said the Parish Clerk, “which is to say fewer than two but more than none.”
Even his normally calm voice showed excitement, and the crowd looked about to see if there were any takers.
“My Lords,” said Lord Mallice once again, “it seems that —”
“Aye!”
It was the twelfth and last, and it brought a gasp from the crowd that mixed relief and disappointment in equal measure. And then astonishment.
For that last “Aye!” came from the Prince Himself who now rose up so that his face could finally be seen.
It was no prince that they saw.
It was Mr Badger of the Wild Wood, he who had told the Mole what to do in Toad’s moment of mortal danger.
“Aye!” growled the Badger once again, staring his challenge at Lord Malice.
“O My Lord,” cried Mrs Ffleshe, “it seems that I am undone and shall be twined or twanged or whatever it is.”
“Not so, dearest madam,” said Lord Mallice, “for I shall lodge an appeal which cannot be denied and it will not be heard for an eternity. Put your trust in me and I shall be your Lord.”
Mrs Ffleshe sighed and murmured, almost gently, that she had done so in spirit long since.
“But in any case, My Lords,” continued the ever resourceful Mallice, “I greatly fear that one of these twelve compurgators is ineligible and so the quorum is not met!”
A gasp, and the crowd followed the direction of his pointing finger and seeing through his poor disguise n
ow recognised Mr Mole of Mole End.
“That gentleman is Mr Mole and he is a fugitive from justice and can hardly testify to his co-defendant’s character. Mr Toad has had his chance and only eleven good men and true have come forward — and in fact that number may be reduced to ten for Mr Badger may well be arraigned for impersonating His Royal Highness the —”
“Enough! I have heard enough!”
This was a new voice, and it came not from the Bench, nor from the crowd. Not from the witnesses for the prosecution, nor from Toad.
Rather, it came from that gentleman whom all had assumed to be the servant of the one they had believed to be the Prince. It came from the small gentleman who sat next to Badger in the Royal Box.
“It is enough, I say!”
“And who, sir, are you to so interrupt the Court’s proceedings?” cried all three Judges, accompanied by Lord Malice.
“I might ask the same of you, sir, but I will not!” said the stranger with some asperity, rising with difficulty and leaning on Badger’s arm as he came into the light. “Instead, I’ll answer your question with as much politeness as is left in me after being forced to witness such a travesty of justice against Mr Toad of Toad Hall!”
His stature, though small, held great authority; his voice, though quiet, carried great force.
“Groat’s my name,” said he, “and wasting time and words is not my game. Call me Lord of this Manor if you will or if you won’t, it don’t make any difference, for that’s what I am whether you like it or not. Now, if I am not very much mistaken — and I am not — it is I who have jurisdiction over this Court and not you, My Lords. I therefore find the defendant not guilty and pronounce that he is free to leave this Court forthwith!”
All the ladies in the crowd, including even Mrs Ffleshe, fainted there and then.
Only one gentleman fainted, and that was Toad. He looked right, he looked left, he looked skyward and he looked down, and then with nowhere else to look and stuck for any word to say he swooned into the trusty arms of Deathwatch and his colleague, Beadle.
XII
Twelfth Night
The Willows at Christmas Page 16
