The Willows and Beyond (28 page)

“Do not weep, Master Toad, or mourn for me,” continued Toad stoically, “for my life is fulfilled in this action today and I — I — aaah —“

Toad writhed about a good deal more, and then closed his eyes and put his head more heavily still upon his ward’s chest as if trying to summon up strength for one last attempt at coherent speech before he finally left them behind forever. As Toad’s eyes closed, however, his ward’s expression changed from abject sorrow to simple enquiry.

“Mr Mole,” said he in a low voice, that Toad might not quite hear, “where is that victory ‘amper you prepared this morning?”

“Why, it’s in Toad’s launch,” said the Mole, “but is it quite appropriate if Toad is so weak?”

“Nephew, fetch it, will you?” commanded the Badger, beginning to understand Master Toad’s drift.

While Nephew hurried off, the rumour spread that Mr Toad was mortally wounded, and soon crowds flocked towards where he lay — so much so that Grandson had to hold them back.

“O, let them nearer, pray,” said Toad in a frail and faltering voice, raising himself up a little to hear rather better the common folk’s wails and lamentations at his imminent demise.

On Nephew’s speedy return Master Toad asked, “Mole, is there perhaps some
champagne
in your basket?”

“There is,” said the Mole, still hesitant.

“A Moet and Chandon?”

“It is the one that Toad has always most preferred,” said the Mole.

“Then open it, please, Mole, and pour a glass for my pater, and for all of us.”

At this Toad’s hand tightened upon that of his ward, and his eyes seemed to smile and express pleasure, anticipation and contentment, and he sat up a little straighter.

The champagne was poured, and a glass was placed in Toad’s other hand.

“Pater, you always said that at such a moment as this you would like a glass of champagne in one hand —”

“— and a good Havana in the other,” murmured the ever thoughtful Mole, taking out a box of them, for he had often heard the same.

Toad smiled, and seemed to recover a little, for he nodded and said, “Yes.”

Then, letting go Master Toad’s hand, he took the cigar that the Mole proffered and sniffed it appreciatively, and sat up without support.

He put it to his mouth, at which the Mole lit a match for him. He sat then quietly, a glass of champagne in one hand, a Havana in the other, the one merely sipped, the other merely puffed at once or twice.

“Do not leave us, Mr Toad, surr!” cried Old Tom from among the crowd. “Do not desert us till that dastardly Judge concedes defeat!”

“I shall not!” said Toad, raising his glass to them. It was just then that the proceedings were interrupted by the sudden sound of the High Judge’s voice — something not at all well received by the Lathbury folk. Why, that man had caused so much trouble, and his men had brutally beaten Mr Toad to the ground. Now he seemed bent upon disturbing their hero’s peace even in his dying hour!

Toad saw at once how matters lay, and how ugly they might quickly become. He waved a welcoming hand, he managed a smile, he seemed to wish to say that he could not quite get up but — but —“Give him a glass of champagne,” said Toad at last, and it is doubtful if words of reconciliation and forgiveness could be better or more succinctly spoken.

The High Judge took the glass with good grace, and he raised it to Mr Toad, and in a brief speech declared that he did not wish to disturb Mr Toad or his friends any longer than he must, but wished it to be known that in view of the events of that day, in view of all he had seen and much regretted seeing, he had been persuaded to oppose the common people no longer and had even now given instruction that this fell, and all others over which he had rights or influence would henceforth be of free and unfettered. access at all times to the public, bar perhaps a few days once in a while for grouse shooting.

Better still, he declared that he would convey to Mr Toad a parcel of land that would ensure access to him, his friends and his inheritors now and for evermore from the highway that ended at Lathbury right up into Lathbury Forest. In short he yielded to all the demands that the Lathbury folk and Mr Toad had made.

His speech was followed by great cheering, and several of the Lathbury men lifted the High Judge onto their shoulders and, as Toad raised a glass in cheerful acknowledgement of the High Judge’s graceful and immediate surrender of his rights, he indicated to Master Toad that he might just like to be raised up himself for a moment or two.

This brought a further cheer from the crowd, members of which, led by Old Tom, came forward and gently raised the hero up onto their shoulders. From this new eminence he raised his glass in the direction of the High Judge, and proposed in a voice still heroically weak that their differences all be forgotten, and since the afternoon was advancing rapidly and the air growing cold, that the meeting adjourn to somewhere more comfortable.

Then it was that Mr Toad, formerly of Toad Hall and now owner of the Lathbury Forest estate — whose value had been trebled that day as a result of the access gained — and his neighbour and good friend (for now he surely was) the most important legal personage in the land, were carried off the fell in triumph for something more robust than champagne at the public bar of the Hat and Boot Tavern.

XII

Return to Mole End

In the months that followed, Toad, Mole and Badger led the younger generation in quiet colonization of Lathbury Forest. The best site was chosen, with a river nearby which might well be regarded as the River itself had once been before the noxious influence of the expanding Town had begun to spoil it, for its waters flowed full and wide, and were clear and pure.

It cannot be said that the Badger was ever as active again as he had been in the great days of the River Bank. Yet on all matters his advice was often sought, if he could be persuaded to emerge from the comfortable quarters that Toad had built for him in a part of the Forest near the finest stretch of the new River.

As for Toad, he was not long without spacious and stylish accommodation, for on hearing that the medieval palace of a former Chancellor of the Exchequer was about to be demolished on the far edge of the Town, to make way for a shoe factory, he had it removed stone by stone and set up anew not far from where the Badger had chosen to live.

Here the daily needs of these two old friends were met by a willing staff whose employment and organization were seen to by Master Toad’s agents — he himself being far too busy with matters in the city, where he was rapidly increasing Toad’s wealth and estate, to spend much time in the Forest himself.

As the months passed into years, the Badger grew more reclusive still, and he and Toad ever more inclined to talk than do; to dream than take risks; to laze in Toad’s comfortable chairs and chaises longues and enjoy their memories of a happy and exciting past, and contemplate a future they no longer felt they need worry about too much.

Then, one winter, quietly, with his old River Bank friends and all his family about him, the wise old Badger died, at peace with himself and the world. He was buried in Lathbury Churchyard, where Toad and the Mole each spoke a moving funeral oration to his memory Having cast soil in the traditional manner upon the coffin, the Mole and Grandson cast something else in the turf and soil all about: which were seeds, and many of them, of the trees of the Wild Wood, which Grandson had saved in the hope that one day, in a better age perhaps, the Wild Wood might rise again.

Through those same years, as Nephew and Grandson, and Master Toad too, though at more distance, willingly pressed on with their purpose of creating life anew in Lathbury Forest, the evening of Mole’s life grew ever more quiet and contented.

He was content to admire the fruits of a new generation’s youthful enterprise, to offer advice when he was asked it, and to be silent as they made their mistakes, had their squabbles, and found ways of making up again.

He was content, too, to know that just as he had always been welcome in the Badger’s new home, till that great animal passed on, so he was welcome still at Toad’s Palace, though that animal was less and less seen now, since he had rediscovered the pleasures of European travel. Needless to say, from what the Mole heard when Master Toad came visiting to check on the estate, his pater was still capable of causing as much mayhem and amusement in those sunny resorts as he always had along the River Bank.

The Mole’s greatest contentment of all, however, came from having been taken into the happy home that his Nephew had created with another — one of those of the female kind of whom the Mole and his River Bank friends had always been so wary.

He was glad that Nephew took so bold a plunge, and gladder still that Nephew should so often sing his praises, and make him feel, old and infirm though he was, part and parcel of his growing family.

If Nephew’s wife had been unsure about letting his uncle move in with them at first, how soon she, too, grew to love the Mole when she saw how readily he took to his great-nephews and -nieces, and how readily they took to him. Many were the nights that Nephew and his wife found themselves lingering at their children’s bedroom doors, or near the warmth of the fireside, to hear the Mole tell once more some oft-told tale of the Water Rat, or of Mr Badger, or of Mr Toad of Toad Hall.

The Mole found a happiness and contentment there he never thought he could find, or even knew existed. A home not quite like his own Mole End, yet just as comfortable, and just as welcoming; and a family as lively, as loving, as full of fun as any he could have wished to have had himself.