THE POLITICS OF PARADISE POND

                                 

                                                           Chapter 10
                                                  The End of the Road

With only the tiniest corner of the swamp remaining to be searched, all the inhabitants of Paradise Pond thought it should soon be over. But there were also doubts, for despite such a thorough search Giles had still not been found.  There was so little of the swamp left, and so many searchers that Peter was worried that they would be getting in each others way, so he ordered all but twenty frogs to back off. A sudden breakout by Giles would be impossible. It was however, perfect territory for the frogs who had slowly closed in until all there was left which had not been searched was that small semi circle of ‘still’ water around the top slippery stones of the dam, where the water enjoys a last pause before it takes that final plunge. Peter was also there, not caring about the mud and the slime; he was determined to see this through to the end. Now the elite band moved forward, those nearest the rim where the water appeared to be still though just below the surface it was gathering pace, ready for the final leap as it rushed up and over the ledge. This was the most dangerous part of the exercise for a wrong move now would lead to an unwary searcher being swept over the waterfall.
          Some time elapsed before they saw him. Just under the rim on the right side of the main outflow was a groove in the stone, hardly visible now, which had once housed a metal rail to control the sluice. This had now become the fugitive's last refuge, for Giles had squeezed into this little space and had tried to get inside the mossy growth. He was well hidden, squeezed as he was into a space only just big enough and merged amongst the mosses, his natural colourings blending with his surroundings like a chameleon. In most circumstances it would have been enough, but he was up against unbeatable odds; outnumbered ten thousand to one, and against a foe determined to see him defeated and exiled. Slowly the small army of frogs moved forward until there was only a foot between them and the dam, then closer until there were  only a few inches fro Giles himself.  Some of the frogs were now in danger for they could now feel the pull of the water as it hurled itself over the edge, perfectly happy to take anything with it, dead or alive, that found itself in the narrow channel of the fast flowing currant.
          Whether Giles expected no mercy will never be known, but the close proximity of so many enemies must have unnerved him for suddenly he broke cover. There was a flash, a splash and a charge. No-one had seen it coming, or quite where it came from, but Giles had flown at Peter with enough force and ferocity to knock him completely over.  No doubt Giles had realized that the game was up and this rush was a desperate last attempt to save his skin, or at least to make sure that someone paid a high price for his downfall, and who better than the one who had brought him to this sorry state?
          Giles had Peter in a deadly grip, his jaws holding him 'vice-like'  around his upper arm and shoulder, and was furiously throwing him side to side in and out of the muddy goo, trying to find something hard on which to smash his head. Peter, knowing he was done for; resigned himself to his fate.  A minute of this would be more than he could stand. He knew also that he had two major disadvantages. In the first place Giles was bigger by half than he, and naturally adept in this watery environment - his environment.  But most of all it was his natural instinct to kill.  At this moment that instinct, fuelled by the primeval force he had resurrected, was at its most potent. Giles must have known that he had nothing to lose, that this could be his last fight. Kill or be killed.
          Peter was desperate now; in terrible pain where Giles's strong jaws were biting deep into his flesh, while he was unable to land any blows in his defence. He couldn't last much longer, and the speed and ferocity of the attack seemed to have left Peter's allies dumbfounded and impotent.
          In one last effort Peter cried out, more in anger than in pain. Angry that his dream of bringing peace to Paradise should be at such a cost - his life - and angry that no one had come to his aid.
          But his scream had one remarkable effect.  Frederick, who had been rooted to the spot, helpless and afraid as he watched his friend being ruthlessly smashed to pieces, suddenly woke up. Fear was replaced by a new determination. He could no longer sit back and watch, and if it meant risking his life too. So be it!
          In one long leap he was on top of the Giles and closed his mouth over his top snout, trying to force it open. Surprise was probably as much to do with it as his bite, somewhat less damaging than that of this Great Crested newt, but it was sufficient to loosen its grip, allowing Peter to turn enough to strike at the only target he could reach; the newts eye.
          One jab was enough and suddenly Peter found himself thrown into the air, landing heavily on top of the dam wall. Only by good fortune was he able to throw his good arm around a straying plant root to stop himself going over the edge.
          Almost unconscious Peter watched,  his feet dangling into space, as the thrashing pair continued their battle, and just as before the rest of the frog community held back.  Peter could not believe what he was seeing and shouted at them to help their leader; but they remained inert, observing, waiting; just like he.  And then he understood.  Frederick was their leader, but until now he had led with little authority, and somehow they knew that this was his chance to prove his worth, to lead as of right, unopposed and respected.
          Back and forth they thrashed, Frederick hanging on with grim determination, his bite less effective than the dragon's, but as long as he kept his grip on the prehistoric throwback, he could not use his. Backwards and forwards, up and down, in the mud and the mire they fought.  Desperation on one side and dogged determination on the other.

          There was also another factor for while Giles was fighting only for his own survival,  Frederick fought for the survival of the entire Paradise community. Frederick knew this and he also knew, with absolute certainty, that only with his death could Giles be victorious. He was never more determined, could simply not allow that to happen.
 When it came the end was unexpectedly quick. With a mighty shake Giles managed to dislodge Frederick from his snout, and launched himself for the final assault. The frog saw him coming with snapping jaws and leaped a mighty leap, coming back to land on top of the temporally disoriented newt. Startled it scuttled away, but with one more leap Frederick was on to him again.  Seizing his quarry by the tail he did a kind of crocodile roll and with an enormous heave threw Giles high into the air. Like Peter he landed on top of the dam, but unlike him there was no handy root for him to grasp.
          Peter saw him coming and for a split second thought that he too might be swept away, but Giles, with one mighty bounce sailed into the spray of the falling water and disappeared from view.  The exhausted Peter watched his sail past him, knowing that but for good fortune, he would have suffered the same fate.  But of Giles there was no sign.  He was gone. Gone for ever Peter hoped, as he pulled himself up to the top of the dam wall, and safety.
           The next few days were busy ones for Peter. His priority was to see that each community returned to their natural ways, and that they were lead by popular leaders. He had to make sure that any ideas of pond dominance were cast out. No one, including Frederick, should have ambitions beyond the safe existence of their own kind.
          Soon it was time to leave and Peter knew that he would find it hard. He had made so many friends and learned so many things. But one thing remained a mystery.  How did his grandfather's name come to be on that stone in the middle of the lake. The only thing Clarence could tell him was that his grandfather had been told by his grandfather who had found it many years before. He had nearly forgotten himself until he had found out Gordon's name. More than that he could not say, so the mystery remained.
          Inevitably when the time came to leave it was a difficult parting, but one that Peter knew he had to make. Frederick accompanied him to the waters edge where they had first met.
          "I won't come out of the water with you. You go and sit down, and I will  fetch Jason."
          Suddenly Peter felt very guilty. "Jason; where is he? How could I have forgotten him?"
          "Don't worry, he's OK; some of my people have been looking after him. Go and wake up your your grandfather and sit with him. I’ll send Jason too you."
          Their goodbye was a curious mixture of friendship and admiration. Both were slightly embarrassed as they tried not show any emotion, but in the end they could not avoid a hug.
.        "Thank you Peter," Frederick said quietly, "Paradise is a better place now."
          "It's up to you now to keep it that way," Peter responded "I think you'll be a very fine King."
          Granddad was still asleep but woke up as Peter sat down next to him.  He put his arm around him and Peter snuggled up, just like he had when Frederick had made his unexpected appearance. Only then did Peter remember, that his granddad had nodded off before he told him what was troubling him.
          Those thoughts were pushed from his mind however, for sure enough Jason came running along the waters edge all excited. "Grampa, grampa," he was shouting "I've had a lovely time but I'm very hungry. Do you think mummy will have tea ready?"
          "I'm hungry too,"  Gordon replied, taking hold of the children, each with a hand in his. "Let's go and find out."
           Peter looked back at the water as they climbed the little hill to the wood.  Perfectly it reflected the blue and white of the sky, and here and there a ripple revealed the presence of a fish, or where a skimming bird had taken an insect. Serene and still it was; calm and peaceful on the surface, and he was glad at the thought that once again it was as nature intended below.  Giles had been routed, maybe killed, and with his lieutenants also banished. Democracy in the natural sense of that perfect balance between predator and prey, had been restored.
          He smiled when he remembered Frederick’s response, when he had put that point to him. "That's fine," he had scoffed, "if you are the predator, but watch out if you're the prey." 
          But he had seen a little twitch in the corner of his mouth, and now Peter knew. Frogs do have a sense of humour. "Ah yes my friend," Peter replied, "but that is in the hands of a God much greater than I; or even granddad."
          As grandfather and grandsons made their way back through the garden to the house, Peter was still puzzled. His granddad didn't seem to be aware of what had happened, and his puzzlement grew when they reached the house, where 'mum' had indeed prepared the early evening meal.
          "You've been a long time at the pond; did you have a nice time?" she asked, her demeanour calm and untroubled, and the greeting for her three 'men' was warm and genuine. Peter had expected a far greater reproach and was even more mystified by her calm acceptance. After all it seemed like he had been away for at least a week.
          'Have I imagined it all?" he thought, “Was it just a dream?”  but he was saved from further explanation by Jason's excited description of his play with the frogs, and the excited friskiness of Barney.
          "I hope you were watching them." Peter’s mum said, looking at her father.
          Gordon smiled, "They had a good time, and I had forty winks."
          Peter laughed to himself. 'Forty winks - yes, if you counted in dog years." But then it dawned on him, and  he understood; well perhaps he understood.  All the time he had been in the water, and small, it must have been something similar to dog years.
          Satisfied with that thought Peter went to search the bookshelves, looking for a particular book he remembered seeing on a previous visit.
          "Here it is." he said at last, pulling out an old book on local history.  Quickly leafing through the pages he came to the part he was looking for. There was an old black and white picture of Paradise mill, taken while it was bustling with activity with many workers going about their business.  There were a couple of pages of text with the picture, and Peter forgot everything as he began to read.
          The first Mill had been built by his great great great great grandfather, near the end of the eighteenth century, only for it to be replaced some years later by the one pictured. It was at that time the Manor house was built.
          After a while he laid down the book, an expression of deep satisfaction on his face.  There it was; the briefest of mentions, but enough. For it told of sibling rivalry, when the sons of the original owner quarrelled, and the older brother was ousted.  The younger brother, more worldly and aggressive, had acquired powerful backing, and forced out his older sibling who cared more about his workers than about profits. That was not good enough for the fiery and ambitious younger man who dreamed of power and wealth.  Not long after that the old mill had been torn down to make way for the new one, larger and grander, and more profitable.
          There were no pictures of the first mill, not even a description, but there was an acknowledgement that it had existed. Peter somehow felt he could see it in his mind's eye. Best of all he was to discovery that before he built the first mill the father of the brothers had owned a quarry a little way up the valley. From that quarry the stone was hewn to build the mills, and the dam which created Paradise Pond. But when more power was needed for the new mill, and more power meant that a much larger pond was required so a ridge between the pond and the quarry was blasted away, the quarry itself along with all its buildings disappeared under the water along with a large part of the valley. Thus Paradise Pond became Paradise lake, but in the minds of all who knew it, it remained 'Paradise Pond'. 
          But Peter's most exciting discovery was that the name of that long ago ancestor, owner of the quarry and the first mill, had been none other than Gordon Orville Dexter, who’s initials he had seen far below the surface of the ‘pond’.

          “Well I never.” Peter whispered at his discovery. “So Granddad was named after an old ancestor.”
          After tea Peter's Granddad went outside to the front of the house, and summoned Peter to follow. "Will you give me a hand with these?" he asked his grandson, when they reached the gate to the road, and started to pull down the 'for sale' posts.
          "I'll try," Peter replied, "but I seem to have hurt my shoulder."
          Gordon smiled at that, and the smile grew bigger when Peter asked, "Are you not selling the house after all?"
          "No, I think not;" he answered, giving his grandson a special look. "Not after the adventure we've just had." 
          “We?” peter repeated, not sure if he had heard correctly - Did you say ‘we’  Grampa?”

His reply was a smile and a wink. “And don’t tell your mother!”

          Later Peter sat back in his chair feeling very satisfied. “Well what will happen to all the creatures in the ‘pond?” he asked.

“Oh, they’ve been there much longer than we have. I think they’ll sort something out; Clarence will see to that!” Gordon answered.

                                 - The End -

 

© Michael G Kimber