The Willows at Christmas (20 page)

The snow swirled in the moonlight, thickened, parted, turned and raced.

“O, it
will
be a merry Christmas,” the Mole told himself, ‘lust as it once used to be. I’m sure of it!”

X

Rescue

Toad and Mole’s hopes for an early release from their cruel confinement were dashed on Boxing Day, when nobody visited them at all. Then, when nobody came on the day following, and
again
on the day following that, even the optimistic Mole began to feel low.

Their cell was bitterly cold, and though the water in the culvert had not frozen, any they left in the bottom of their bucket froze solid in minutes. To add to their distress, the raging roar of the river seemed to be growing ever louder and more rapacious, and its thundering wearied them.

Their only comfort was the crust of bread and beef dripping that the Parish Clerk pushed through the flap in their door each morning and then, on the third morning, a blanket each, together with the parcel containing Toad’s clothes, sent by Miss Bugle and delivered to the Parish Clerk by Mr Baltry.

Yet, despite these difficulties, the prisoners were astonished to find that with each day that passed their ability to endure the cold and discomforts of their cell increased, as did their pleasure in what little food they had.

This owed much to the resourceful Mole, who had the very good idea of throwing a few crumbs of their bread into the bottom of the culvert to attract any small fry that might live there. Having earlier submerged the bucket in the water it needed only a deft flick of his wrist at Mole’s command for Toad to haul aloft a bucketful of stickleback and one or two crayfish.

Mole thought that by combining this small catch with a few dried leaves of wild mint that had made its home that summer on the windowsill above their heads, along with the beef dripping, he might make something palatable. He heated it all up in the bottom of the metal bucket by means of the candle, and after some experimentation created a dish to rival his well-known Stickleback Pie.

“It’s certainly original,” said Mole, licking his lips.

“Original, Moly? It’s a work of brilliance that would grace the table of my club in Town!” said Toad, glad that something was finally going their way. “The addition of the crayfish juice just as you serve it is a stroke of genius. If we put it in little jars and gave it a name such as ‘Prisoner’s Relish’ I believe we could sell it throughout the Empire for at least a penny three farthings a time.

“Of course, the fact that I am so well known and admired is not something we should forget. If we were to add an image of my head on the label (for which I would charge you only a nominal fee) and declared that it was manufactured in the ‘Famous Kitchens of Toad Hall’ and had been eaten by the monarchs of Europe, I believe you would very soon be somewhat better off, whilst I would become very wealthy indeed!”

But such interludes could not hide the fact that both animals were beginning to weaken under the stress of their situation, which was not helped by not knowing when their trial would be held. So it was with great relief that their cell door was opened on the morning of New Year’s Eve and the Parish Clerk entered in.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “I am very glad you are still alive for I thought you might have suffered from the cold (which is to say become frozen, solid). I imagine you wish to know when you are to be tried and executed? That information I cannot impart.”

He talked at length in this ambiguous manner and eventually the two animals became too hungry and cold to understand all that he said. However, he did let slip the information that the main cause of the delay was that “the bad weather has made it difficult for the specialist craftsmen who are needed to prepare the Court for the trial (by which I mean your ordeal) to travel to the Village and ply their skills.”

Toad did not like the sound of “specialist craftsmen” and asked for clarification on the matter.

“There has been a good deal of interest in your case amongst the legal profession and gentlemen of the press, who together have suggested that it is essential that matters are seen to be conducted fairly, according to the proper rules and regulations that govern trials by ordeal.

“In the interests of justice and fair play these kind-hearted gentlemen have been generous enough to provide sufficient funds for me to be able to hire the mangle—makers, tong tuners, corkscrew turners, and tine sharpeners who can modernise our antiquated instruments of trial.”

“That
is
kind of them,” said Toad.

“It is, sir,” said the Parish Clerk, “and very gratifying, too. In consequence, and at their request, I have increased the seating capacity at the Court House. Tickets are being issued for the event starting at one shilling for those who will be outside and there able to see you dragged into Court, to the most expensive — and these are already sold out — being ten guineas for a seat adjacent to the Royal Box. That construction, incidentally, is likely to be occupied by His Royal Highness the Prince himself, and those members of the Royal Hunt who have expressed a wish to be in at the kill (which is to say execution of sentence).”

“But surely the Court House is large enough already without adding more seats?” said Mole, remembering the huge chamber.

“Not nearly capacious enough for the multitudes who are showing such patriotic interest in justice, and such very great social concern for — and scholarly interest in — the medieval practice of the law. You see, gentlemen, our Village’s Court Baron, which is presided over by the Lord of Session or his representative, remains the sole exemplar of its type extant and in working order.

“It is now being very widely suggested that if your case is successful (by which I mean if you are found guilty and satisfactorily punished) then the law of the land, which has erred too long on the side of mercy and the offender, will be changed back to what it was several hundred years ago. That will be a happy day for us all, will it not?”

“But when
will
we be tried?” enquired the Mole.

“No later than New Year a twelve-month or two’ said the Parish Clerk, “which is to say within three years.

“Three years!” cried Toad when the Parish Clerk was gone. “By then I shall be but a shadow of my former self, assuming I am alive at all.”

“Calm yourself, Toad’ interjected Mole; “our friends know our plight and will soon be here to rescue us!”

“You said that yesterday and the day before, and the day before that!” responded Toad. “And still they do not come. I am in despair, Mole! I cannot go on much longer! To think that Ratty and Otter saved me after I plunged into the River only to abandon me here. I wish I had perished then!”

“But, Toad, just think of how many you will disappoint if you do not stand trial. Why, it seems that the whole county will be watching, and many in the Town.”

“The county, the Town — watching
me?”

“I am sure of it’ said the Mole.

“Just one county, just one Town, or do you think other counties and other Towns — perhaps the whole land?”

“More than likely,” said the Mole. “The gentlemen of the press will be very eager to hear you speak in your own defence.”

“Goodness,” cried Toad, “I had not thought of that! You are right — I must begin to practise my speeches at once so that I do not disappoint my public. Naturally I shall be making several speeches.”

“Several?”

“Of course. First for my plea, which will seek to demonstrate the passion with which I believe in my own innocence! Then for my defence, to show how mistaken are these charges! Next my speech before my ordeal, which will move many to tears! After that will be my various speeches upon the rack, hanging in chains, in the mangle, caught amidst the tines, and I shall entertain the masses with my eloquence even as I burn at the fiery stake!”

“Do you think that you will be in any fit condition to make speeches at such moments?” enquired the Mole, who was not at all certain on the point and was growing increasingly concerned that he too might have to make a speech.

“Of course, Mole, of course. Creating speeches is to me what creating a new relish is to you. But fear not: I am an expert at such things. I will even rehearse you in your lines so that you don’t let me down.”

“That is most kind of you, Toad, and since we cannot be sure when we will go on trial I suggest you begin your preparation at once.

Toad immediately began to pace about the little cell proclaiming his innocence with lofty words and sentiments, and in particular practising his openings and endings, for it was his considered opinion that it was upon those that the success of a speech most often depended.

By such means the thoughtful Mole managed to keep Toad preoccupied and to divert him from those moments of dark gloom that were prone to overtake him. His own fears he kept to himself, along with his occasional doubts that they would ever be rescued. But these never lasted long, for he knew that if there were any animals in the wide world who could be trusted to come to their aid it was their River Bank friends.

By midnight on New Year’s Eve Toad was already asleep, exhausted from a day of speechifying, but the Mole was still awake. He stood, as he did every night, at the grille in the Gaol door, staring at the night sky as the nearby church clock heralded the arrival of the New Year. Since he was in the habit of making resolutions, he made one now: “If ever — no!
when
— I am set free, the first thing I shall do when the weather gets better is to journey north and meet my sister once again!”

Mole’s trust in their friends was well justified, for while the Badger and Miss Bugle travelled north in pursuit of Toad’s Uncle Groat, the Rat and the Otter had by no means been idle.

The initial idea of a direct approach to the Village Gaol had been thwarted by the stoats and weasels, who had taken up positions around the Village, and particularly in the vicinity of the Gaol itself.

The Parish Clerk had provided the Wild Wooders with food and warmth — the latter in the form of braziers which burned brightly in the High Street and along the bridge and greatly increased the guards’ morale. As for food, this was freely supplied from the well-stocked larders of Toad Hall, and Toad would not have been pleased to know that he was footing the bill of victualling the very forces deputed to watch over him. Naturally enough, the offer of second helpings to those who undertook guarding duties ensured plenty of recruits for that tedious and chilly task.