Toad Triumphant

by William Horwood

“Come on, gentlemen,” he was saying, “place your bets one last time!”

  “But, Mr Toad, sir, you’ve made the same wager each time and each time you’ve lost! Those friends Mr Mole and Mr Rat are long since dead and won’t never come back. Why we’ve won that launch o’ yours three times over at least —”

  “And I say — double or quits! Or are the good men of Lathbury ungentlemanly cowards and knaves who cannot hold their liquor or honour their debts?”

  The Water Rat, the most practical of animals, saw at once that Toad had been so insufferable as to lay wager upon the life of himself and the Mole, but then at least it showed a certain confidence he liked. The Rat was not without a sense of humour, and he saw that his help was needed. Instructing Brock to delay a minute or two and then announce that Mr Toad’s friends had just that moment arrived outside, he slipped back to the jetty, tied his own boat to what must surely be Toad’s launch and then set the engine running for a speedy departure.

  Brock had the same commanding presence as the Badger himself, and when he emerged from the shadows and made the announcement a general exodus ensued. Out came Brock and Toad, with the young Count carrying the money pursued by a wondering rabble who were astonished at the news that the Water Rat was there.

  “Quick!” said Brock to the youngster, and together they heaved Toad aboard, leapt on after him and the Rat expertly powered the craft into the middle of the stream and out of the mob’s reach.

  “‘E’s got our money!” cried the landlord.

  “‘E’s got our beer money” cried another.

  “Aye, so ‘e ‘as,” said Old Tom, his voice strong against the rabble’s, “but didn’t ‘e win ‘is wager fair and square? That’s certainly the same rat as we saw before, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You’re a rascal, Mr Toad! I’ll bet you knew Mr Rat was alive all along!”

  Toad, now nearly recovered and realizing he was safe once more, assumed a mysterious smile, a most satisfied smile.

  “Did I win it or not?” he cried, grabbing the money from Brock and holding it aloft.

  “You did, sir,” they cried in reply. “But now you’ve got the boat as well. It don’t seem quite fair.”

  Toad laughed.

  “Am I not the cunningest, the cleverest, the wiliest Toad who ever lived?”

  The mob stared at him, lost for words. Finally it was Old Tom who spoke for them all. “I’ll tell you what you be, sir,” said he, with admiration in his voice. “You’re a toss-potly stuff-gutly vagabond, the finest as ever darkened the doors of the Hat and Boot, and you be welcome hereabouts anytime!”

  There was general laughter at this and Toad replied, “Well spoken, my man! Here, landlord, take this back and let everybody have another drink on me!”

  With that the generous and good-natured Toad swung the bag of money about his head and hurled it back onto the bank where it fell at the landlord’s feet.

  Then, turning to the Rat, he calmly said, “You arrived barely in the nick of time, old chap; what kept you?”

  “But —” began the Rat furiously.

  Quite unashamed and betraying not a single trace of gratitude, Toad commanded the Rat thus: “Steersman, guide her from these shores!”

  At this there was a general hurrah for Toad and all his works, except from the Rat, who looked as if he would have a good deal to say on this subject and some others concerning Toad before very long.

  As they set off downstream it was to another rendition of the familiar song, only this time it began, “For Toad’s a jolly good fellow!” and it continued long and loud and saw the launch and its passengers well on their way.

  But that evening, when the boat and its occupants were out of harm’s way and had been properly introduced to each other, the Rat interrogated Toad long and hard. He heard the sorry tale from its lunatic beginning to its wretched end, and he saw how dreadful and baleful an influence Toad had been upon his youthful ward.

  “Toad,” said the Rat finally after due consultation with Mr Brock, of whom Toad had been very much in awe from the moment he heard he was Badger’s son, “I will not allow this to go on. You cannot continue to be a fugitive and corrupt this young person. You must try to set am example.”

  “I will, of course I will,” said Toad. “Just let us off the boat — for I do not like the direction in which you are going — and I will promise always to be good, and never to lead my friend astray. We will —”

  “It is not good enough, Toad, and if Badger were here, and Mole as well, I know what they would say.”

  “They would be more understanding than you, Ratty,” said Toad.

  “They would be as understanding as me, not more so,” averred the Rat. “I want you to set the only example you can to this poor, corrupted youth and come along with me and give yourself up.”

  “But they will punish me, Ratty,” said the terrified Toad. “I know they will —”

  “So they may and a good thing too. You must take your chances, for it is the only proper course to take.”

  How desperately Toad looked about the decks for a means to escape, how pathetically he wept and pleaded to be allowed to flee, if only by himself.

  How predictable the final dash he made for it, attempting to leap from the bows to the nearest bank and falling into the water.

  They fished him out with a boathook and dried him off, and, then, not trusting him further, he was tied up struggling in the fo’c’sle, little better than a mutineer, with the large solid form of Mr Brock watching over him.

  Then, unwilling to delay more, the Rat took up the wheel and set course for home.

  Toad’s terror at the prospect that awaited him once he gave himself up very rapidly increased the nearer to the River Bank they got, as did his pleadings and offers of money to the Rat to let him go. But the Rat would not, though he released him from his bonds when he seemed to have calmed down.

  When the Rat finally guided the craft round the last corner of the River before Toad’s estate, there, as Toad cowered behind the gunwales, covering his face against his enemies, seeking to cover his eyes and ears against their imminent commands for him to put his hands behind his back so that handcuffs could be put upon them, a very remarkable sight unfolded.

  News of their arrival seemed to have gone ahead of them so that several boats were in the water, filled with cheering people, and bunting had been hung among the willows along the banks. While upon Toad’s boat-house hung a huge bill board upon which were written these remarkable words, “WELCOME HOME, MR TOAD! HERO AND HUSBAND TO BE!”

  Toad heard the commotion of his welcome, mistook it for the sound of arresting officers, and dived below decks in an attempt to win a few more seconds of liberty. While up above the Rat was very quick to size up the situation, and expressed himself not at all pleased with it. Worse, he saw that the young Count’s admiration for Toad was growing once more.

  He went below to break the news to Toad.

  “I am not to be arrested after all?” cried Toad. “Not thrown into gaol?”

  “No, Toad, you are safe, it seems.”

  Toad stood up and peered through a porthole, and saw the cheering crowds of the estate’s staff, at whose head stood Prendergast.

  “O, and am I not clever?” brayed Toad. “Am I not brilliant in all I do?”

  Though happy for Toad in one way the Rat could only glower at this rather unseemly display of smug self-satisfaction, and the deleterious effect it must be having on the young Count. Brock, on the other hand, looked very bemused, for this was not the homecoming to the River Bank that he had expected, and Toad Hall looked very different from what he remembered.

  But thus did Toad return home and seemed to confirm yet again that Fate was eternally with him, and against all that is just, and proper, decent and good.

  Yet, just as he was about to put his foot upon his property once more, his hand steadied by the inestimable Prendergast, he paused and said, “What’s that?”

  “Sir?�
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  “That notice. It says rather more than ‘welcome home’ and ‘hero’, does it not?”

  “It does seem to,” agreed Prendergast.

  “It also says ‘husband to be’,” said Toad darkly. What distant shadow shifted then within his heart, and what caused him to look beyond the bank and up towards the house and its attendant terrace? Upon which he saw a strange effusion of flowers and silk which, unaccountably reminded him of an exotic waiting spider in her web.

  “Am I to be married?” said Toad in some surprise.

  “See, your lady awaits you,” said Prendergast, pointing to the terrace.

  Flowers, that was what Toad could now make out, roses mainly. In the shape, the ghastly shape, of a red heart in whose midst a female form seemed to move and wave.

  “What is that?” said Toad, frozen to the spot.

  “The Madame has seen fit to prepare a romantic tableau for your return,” said Prendergast, “with herself at its very heart.”

  “O, well, I suppose we must humour her for now,” said the ungrateful, fickle Toad. “But then, Prendergast, an engagement is one thing, marriage another. Why we need not do the deed for months yet, even years —”

  With that Prendergast pushed his suddenly unwilling master up the steps to the terrace where, despite all Toad could do, he was swept up into the Madame’s plump arms, and assaulted by the scent of powder and of perfume, of roses and of orchids, and a multitude of kisses.

  As he struggled to break free and gasped for air he felt as one who had journeyed far to regain his liberty, only to have it cruelly snatched away once more.

  Yet if the astonishing news of Toad’s last-minute pardon and return to Toad Hall gave everybody along the River Bank reason to celebrate, the final return of the Mole and Badger’s Grandson was the icing on the cake.

  It was Otter who brought the news that his spies had seen the Mole and Grandson. They arrived that same evening, drifting gently down in Brock’s punt, expertly guided by Grandson. Everyone saw how thin the Mole had become, and that when he stepped from the boat onto the bank, he limped a little, and needed the help that the Rat quickly gave.

  “Well,” he said, looking at them all with joy “I am home again at last, home where I belong.”

  “And this — ?” began the Badger gruffly looking at the young badger who handled the punt so well.

  “Yes,” said the Mole, “this is your grandson, Badger, and a very good one he is, as you’ll very soon discover.”

  Badger found that he was looking into the eyes of one very near his own size, who had about him all the youthful grace and good humour of her whom the Badger had once loved dearly and which any grandparent would have been glad to see so evident in a younger generation.

  Perhaps nothing in all of the Badger’s life had moved him so deeply as that meeting, and if Grandson looked shy and uncertain, so too did he.

  “Why” said the Badger, looking from Grandson to his own son Brock and then back again, with tears filling his eyes, “he — you — you remind me of someone your father and I once loved very much indeed, very much. I — yes —”

  If the hug the Badger impulsively gave his grandson then was a little clumsy and felt a little strange, it was none the worse for that, and nobody chose to notice as he turned away for a moment to wipe some of those tears away and collect himself.

  “He’s a fine boy eh, Mole?” he said a little hoarsely once he was himself again, and he said it with a good deal of pride; and perhaps with saying it, the rift between himself and his own son was healed.

  “He certainly is, Badger,” replied the Mole with a good deal of feeling, for he had come to know Grandson well, and to like him greatly.

  “Well then,” said the Badger, not at all sure what to do or say next, “well —”

  “I dare say Badger,” suggested the Mole judiciously “that you will wish to show your grandson something of your home in the Wild Wood, for I believe he is very much looking forward to seeing it; and he wants to tell you about our journey here.”

  “Yes,” said the Badger, “that is a very good idea, and I was just about to suggest it myself—”

  It was not often that the Badger was lost for words, but upon that happy occasion he was, and as he led his kith and kin off to his home, he felt grateful for the Mole’s easing of the situation.

  For the next few days, the Badger, Brock and Grandson kept very much to themselves in the Wild Wood. While the Rat saw the Mole safely back to Mole End with the Otter, and there shared a succession of feasts that Nephew had prepared which were in all the warm traditions of the kind of welcome, and the food and drink, for which the Mole himself was renowned.

  Toad found that the six days before his nuptials swept very quickly past, like dried leaves upon an autumn wind. Then he was awakened one morning by Prendergast and all in a horrible daze found himself thrust into a morning suit, handed silk gloves and a top hat and then dragged out onto the terrace of his house, by the Badger, who was, it seemed, his best man.

  “But —” whispered Toad, breaking out into a sweat at the very unwelcome sight of wedding guests at his own marriage.

  “If there was a way out, old fellow, I would not be against it,” said the Badger; “but there is none mow and you must accept your fate.”

  “But —”

  “If only you had not put your proposal in writing then perhaps we could have found a way —”

  “But, please, Badger!”

  “Then again, even that obstacle might have been overcome had not the Madame pre-empted all escape from this arrangement by persuading the High Judge himself to give her away and having none other than the Senior Bishop officiate at the service, while the Commissioner of Police is Senior Usher and —”

  “This way gentlemen,” said the Senior Usher at that moment, “those four constables will show you where to stand —”

  As Toad followed them he felt even more than before that this was no wedding, it was an arrest and he was now on the way to the final sentencing.

  “B-b-but I don’t love her, Badger, and I don’t think I ever did. It was the idea of Love that I liked, the dreams and poetry the partings and the returnings, the mooning and the rushing about, but not this —”

  “Really Toad,” said the Badger with some asperity, “and you might do a great deal worse. Why I have become quite fond of the Madame myself, everyone has. In any case, there is nothing we can do — why even Prendergast could think of no solution, for if you do not go through with it then it is quite certain that the Madame will file a suit against you for Breach of Promise and, well, with such important people upon her side, so to speak, and all your previous pardons set aside, then I fear — I greatly fear —”

  Just then there was a blast of trumpets and clapping and cheering from the special guests upon the terrace, which was then taken up by the many others in the garden below who had come to enjoy the Grand Opening and, in particular, Toad’s wedding, which was generally regarded as the momentous highlight of the day’s events, in fact the event of the year!

  “She’s coming! Look, she’s coming on the arm of the High Judge himself—”

  “Badger!” pleaded Toad one last time.

  Which appeal failing (for the Badger grasped his arm yet tighter), Toad turned to his friends nearby: “Ratty and Mole, can you not help me?”

  But they could only shake their heads and urge Toad to put a brave face on it as the Senior Bishop took his place, bible in hand and bishops all about him, and the Commissioner of Police stood near him to one side. Finally the bride to be, dressed in pinks and whites and apricots, approached from within the Hall, upon the arm of the High Judge himself.

  “Is there no one who can help me now?” whispered Toad, his eyes wild, and his limbs all shaking. “No one to pity me?”

  Yet, as he lowered his head in despair, there was one there who seemed fully to comprehend the terror that poor Toad felt, for he too had been oppressed by the many not long since, and he
too had come to understand the true value of the liberty that Toad was about to lose. He, too, knew better than any there the difficulties and awfulness of actually living with Madame.

  This solitary saviour was Madame’s son, the Count. Callow and young, foolish but brave, he saw Toad’s plight and did what he felt he must do. Wresting a crook from the nearest bishop, he leapt in front of Toad and uttered the cry that Toad had made on his behalf in his moment of doubt and weakness: “Liberté, monsieur! Fraternité et Liberte’! Flee, Monsieur Toad, while I fight these cruel men off! Run while you can!”

  Toad heard this valiant call to action, and he saw the brave youth who uttered it; and he needed no second thought, nor further encouragement As his fiancée came out onto the terrace, when all attention was upon her and the High Judge, Toad turned and fled as fast as his short legs would carry him.

  As he went he hurled off anything that might be an encumbrance to flight: the carnation in his lapel, his morning coat, then his top hat, and finally his cravat, that he might puff and pant more freely as he fled.

  Round the side of the Hall he went, past the vast assemblage of motor-cars and broughams gathered there, and straight out of his own front gates, which he reached just as the first hue and cry was heard.

  Above him he saw the notice that the Badger had caused to be set up, and knew beyond doubt the truth of what it said, and that his liberty could not last long.

  “THERE WILL BE NO SECOND CHANCE!”

  Nor could there be, he knew that now, but while he had life he might have hope, and while he felt hope he could strive to recapture liberty!

  Thus Toad fled his own wedding, and left the Madame standing, if not at the altar then upon the terrace, which is the next worst thing; and if any there had ever doubted the truth of the expression “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” they needed only to look upon the jilted Madame’s face.

  “Monsieur?” she wondered. “Monsieur?!” she wept.

  “Monsieur!” she bellowed, giving chase at once.

  Over the Iron Bridge Toad fled and thence into the Wild Wood. No plan had he, no clever means of escape, just the overwhelming desire to escape the eternal bond that marriage to the Madame, worthy though she was, seemed to be.