THE POLITICS OF PARADISE POND

                                        

                                                                        Chapter Seven

                                                     The King is Dead Long Live the King

Peter was still not awake when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  After the scare of yesterday he had hoped that he would have an easier day, but now, not long after dawn one of Frederick's men was gently pulling him from his sleep.
            "What is it?"
            "Wake up Peter," he said, "our leader has gone missing."
            "Frederick?"
            "Yes."
            "What happened?"
            "Sol. Jnr. called last night; said his father is very ill and that he wanted to see him."
            "But why him?  If he was dying I would have thought he would want to see his son, or Clarence."
            "I don't know , but Sol Jnr. said he wanted to see Frederick."
            Peter lifted himself from his bed, a pile of mossy growth, and followed the messenger to the centre of the compound, where other leading frogs were waiting.
            "But what's the problem?" Peter asked, trying to make sense amongst the wails and mounting hysteria.
            "He didn't come back last night, or this morning.  We think he has been captured."
            "Ok,OK, calm down, it may not be that. If old Sol is very ill, he may have wanted to stay."
            "We have never been friends with the sticklebacks," they chorused "so why would he want to do that?"
            It was a question Peter couldn't answer. True they had formed an alliance to fight a common foe, but that didn't make them friends overnight.
            "Perhaps it's Giles again. he might have got wind of our plans, and has decided to take a hostage. But there is only one way to find out.  I must go and see Sol Jnr. myself"
            With that there was pandemonium once more, but Peter could not stay to console them.  Instead he picked a small band of Fredericks trusted marshals, and soon they were on their way. Without the same need for caution it didn't take as long to reach the fresher water of stickleback country, and on the way they had little to say. Not even when they arrived and Sol Jnr. came out to meet them. He was not as free and easy as his father, and Peter had difficulty in getting answers from him. 'I suppose he must be upset about his dad' Peter thought, but he did think it a little odd just the same.  He had thought it a little odd too when they arrived, for there was nothing to suggest a crisis, and nothing to hear either, to indicate grief in the community at the possible demise of their leader.
            "This way," Sol Jnr. called, going towards the back of their compound. "he's in here."  he said, leading the way, as they passed a group of silent sticklebacks, sullen and showing no sign of a friendly welcome Peter had expected. Then they went into what looked like a tunnel.  It was narrow, but Peter got through without too much of a struggle. But he was very uneasy now,  convinced that something was not right.    Beyond the tunnel he entered a much bigger space. It was quite large with flat perfectly smooth sides, and translucent. But the only way out of this strange room was through the very same tunnel he had just used to get in. Then he realized that his little band of supporters were not with him, and assumed that they had been taken to be locked up elsewhere, for once inside Peter realized that he had been tricked. Sol Jnr. had not followed him through, but had stayed in the tunnel; the entrance to a prison.  At once he realized that he was a prisoner, but in a moment he could see that he was not on his own.
            "Hello Peter." his new companion said "I'm afraid my son has turned traitor.  It was Sol.
            "What's going on?" Peter asked
            "It's a coup;  Sol. Jnr. has deposed me; says I am too old, too slow, too soft, and too old fashioned."
            Sol Jnr. was still in the entrance tunnel and was listening. Now he spoke up. "You will be my father's guest until my new regime is established - a day or two perhaps - and then I will let you go.  My father will not come to any harm either - if all goes well," he added ominously, "so please enjoy your stay."
            "What about Frederick and his men?"
            "They will be looked after as well,"  he answered firmly "but I'm afraid they will not enjoy quite the same luxury as you."
            Peter looked around.  'Comfortable yes; but hardly luxury. But for the first time Peter saw in Sol Jnr's face, and heard in his voice something of what he now knew him to be.  A bully and a dictator.  And, he had little doubt, not only would Sol Jnr. be a successor waiting in the wings should Giles fail to establish himself as master of Paradise, but almost certainly he would be a future opponent if he did.
            Peter could not hold back the thought that far from solving the problem, his attempt to form a union with the sticklebacks seemed to have made things worse.
            When Sol Jnr. finally bid them farewell, both his 'guests' breathed a sigh of relief.  They had much to talk about, and there was much to be done, and Peter knew that as well as not solving the problems in Paradise; neither had his ‘pact’ with the stickleback leader. If anything they had just got worse, for now there were two dictators in the ‘pond’. More evil forces at work..
             Peter and Sol spent the rest of the day discussing their situation, even when it became too dark to see, and most of the night too. It was soon apparent that they shared one ambition; to save Paradise Pond from a power struggle which would cost many lives, and destroy a way of life that had gone on since life there began. But wishing would not make it happen unless could hatch a plan.  They were held in a prison from which escape would be very difficult, and for Peter, there was the added pressure of having to think things through in a way that no Elevan year old had ever before been called upon to do.
            "What would my grandfather do, if he was me?" he asked himself frequently, and it was with a certain feeling of 'daje vue' that he told Sol all about 'granddad', while remembering how difficult it had been to make Frederick and Clarence understand.
            "So if he is God then," Sol exclaimed, "can't he help us?"  Clearly Sol would be no easier to convince than the others.
            "He has powers but they are not magic." Peter said patiently.
            "What kind of a God is he then?" Sol remained to be convinced.
            "He is good and fair, but I don't know where he is at the moment."
            "Then we must try to find him. Sol observed, quite without any understanding of the situation.
            "We must try and find our own solution first."  Peter said firmly "and fast."
            The conversation ran on like this until tiredness brought them sleep, and sleep brought - for a little while - relief from their problem.  But it was still there when they awoke next morning. Sol Jnr. arrived with two guards bearing breakfast. 
            "What's this?" Peter asked, noticing that some of the fare he had been offered was still alive.
            "It's the same as his." said the guard, displaying not the deference of a subject to his lord, but the scant regard of a jailer to his prisoner.
            Turning to Sol Jnr. Peter said as angrily as one of his young years could manage "When I came into Paradise Pond it was to help all of its inhabitants; not to eat some of them."  He pushed the food away, and was gratified to see that Sol had done the same.  "Now will you bring me some fresh green shoots."
            Sol Jnr. raised himself up to near vertical, his head slightly to one side, and his fins outstretched.  With what was as near as a Stickleback can get to smile he said  "As you wish; you are my guests."  Without another word he swept through the tunnel, his two flunkies following, and once more Peter and Sol were alone.  But this time they were silent, neither seaming to know what to do, or how to do it.
            Two courses of action had emerged. To get a message to the frogs, and to find out how many of the sticklebacks were followers of Sol Jnr., and how many remained loyal to Sol.
            "There must be some who were happy with my leadership," Sol said wearily.  "after all we have lived a fairly peaceful existence for all these years.  I can't imagine what more they want."
            "Probably nothing." Peter answered.  "Sol Jnr. and Giles are much alike I think. they want power. They are very persuasive."
            Further deliberations were ended by the return of the guards carying under each fin long fresh shoots. Peter did not recognize them, but had to take a chance on their suitability.  Sol did not appear to have any doubts and started to eat immediately. Peter followed suit.  The guards departed leaving them to eat in peace. 
            Neither of them heard it at first, or realized what it was, but then they both looked up and listened.  It was a scratching noise, and it was coming from the back of the room; the other end from the tunnel.  Quickly they went to investigate, and before long they found where some of the grime and growth had been scraped away, but still it was nearly possible to see through.  Only then did Peter realize that their prison was a carelessly discarded plastic bottle which had been put to a new use.  But the main discovery was that the plastic was cracked, at just below the point where someone on the outside was busy scraping. After a few minutes more Peter and Sol could make out the shape of a stickleback, and soon Sol let out a cry.
            "At least there is one loyal to me," he said  "It's Star, one of my councillors."
            "Quick," Peter shouted "show him the crack; see if it's possible to make a hole."
            The crack, when examined more closely, appeared to be the result of the bottle being crushed - possibly underfoot - before it had been thrown into the water. There were indeed a number of cracks, and in one place a small piece was nearly out, allowing water to gradually fill the bottle until one day it had sunk to the bottom. Perhaps this was where they might escape.  Peter made no attempt to explain the bottle, or how it got there.  Still less that it had once contained orange squash.  How could they understand such a concept. So, putting such thoughts aside he busied himself, in the hope that by working from both sides they might be able to break through.  Fearful of discovery they worked feverishly; he and Sol pushing from the inside, while

 Star and another pushed from the outside.  Gradually the small piece of plastic moved further on both sides until a crease appeared.  Encouraged, they pushed harder until the 'window' was open wide on the outside.  It was a significant victory for all, and also a defeat, for when he tried Peter could not get through.  Neither could Sol, who, in his great age had acquired a creditable girth. Ironically, Star's helper, younger and slimmer was able to glide through the whole quite easily.
            "Can't see how that is going to help us." Peter said, rather gloomily.
            "Well at least we can communicate,"  Sol replied, "and what better way to start is to find out what following I still have."
            Just then they heard the sound of movement outside of the tunnel. "Quick," said Sol to Star, "cover the hole,"  and Star, alert to the danger pushed the flap they had created back into position.  Peter and Sol moved to the tunnel end of the bottle to await their visitor, happy that in the murky light their handwork was not too obvious.  As expected the new arrival was Sol Jnr., who lost no time in coming to the point. 
            "Word has got out that I have imprisoned you," he said directly to his father "and there is some resistance in the community to my leadership." There was no suggestion of a greeting, nor any inquiry as to his state of health.  "I want you to speak to the people and tell them that you have given up voluntarily, and have nominated me as your successor.
            "Never." Sol's answer was as positive as it was brief.
            "That is a pity," Sol Jnr. retorted, "for now I will have to tell them that you have died"
            "They will not believe you,"
            "They will," Sol had never before seen the expression on his son's face that he saw then "when I show them your body."
            "You will kill me?"
            "Not if I don't have to, but if you force me . . . yes, I will."
            "I will have to think about it, and talk it over with Peter here; though I can't imagine what his grandfather will have to say about this."
            Sol Jnr looked briefly at Peter, curious perhaps at the reference to his grandfather, but was not drawn. No doubt more pressing thoughts filled his mind. "As you wish, but in the morning I will make an announcement to our people. It will say that you have abdicated due to poor health, or that you have passed away."
            He gave his father a long hard look. "I shall be back tonight before I retire, to hear from you which it is to be."
            With a swish of his tail he spun round and disappeared through the tunnel at great speed, his fins hardly seeming to touch the sides.
            "What are we to do?" Peter asked.  All this was way beyond his experience and he couldn't think of a solution.  Sol too was stumped and was aware of Peter's difficulty.  "If there was only some way to get help." He said.
            "If only I could get a message to Grandfather." Peter added, almost an echo. but then he launched himself into a gentle glide to the back of the prison, pressing gently on the flap.
            "Are you still there Star?" he called quietly.
            "No, he has gone to rally support" It was Star's young helper, who had stayed back should he be needed.
            "Can you get a message to my grandfather? It will be to dangerous for him to come here.  Ask him to try to get to the frog compound and organize something.
            "Yes, straight away, but Star said he will be back soon.  He said he has a plan.
            "I hope it's a good one." Peter said, but with little expectation.
            Sol had followed Peter, drifting slowly along the length of the bottle.
            "Ask him how many are behind me?" but it was too late, and once again Peter and Sol were alone. Not only that, but the light was beginning to fade, and soon Sol Jnr. would be back demanding an answer.
            "You'll have to go along with him." Peter said, after some further discussion "Play for time and tell him you have agreed to his plan."
            "He'll probably kill me anyway," Sol answered gloomily "and you too."
            "Yes I know, but maybe not at once, and that might be our only chance."
            It wasn't long before Sol Jnr. returned wanting an answer.    "Well?"
            They could hear him, but neither of them could see him very well.  Slowly they moved forward until they were close to the entrance, and there they could just make out the shape and the face of their captor.  He was still in the tunnel; only his head protruded into the wider space.
            "Well?" He said again, only this time his tone was more aggressive; more insistent.
            "You win;" answered Sol "I have no choice"
            "You agree to stand down?"
            "I have no choice."
            "You will ask that all your supporters to switch their allegiance to me?"
            "I will, but I cannot guarantee that they will."
            "Then you must be very persuasive."  Sol Jnr. said somewhat menacingly.
            "I will do my best.  That is all I can do."
            There was a short period of silence, before they realized that Sol Jnr. had gone, and that they were free to speak again, and they slowly drifted back to their 'escape' window.
            "In for a penny in for a pound." Peter said, when they stopped at the far end.
            "What does that mean?"
            "I'm not really sure," Peter said "it's something I've heard my grandfather say.  I think it's when you've done something and you can't go back."
            "Well that's it then.  There's no going back now."
            They rested on the bottom, neither knowing what to say; knowing that they would not sleep, and waited for the dawn. Because it was mid summer it never did get completely dark, but gradually the light worsened until they had difficulty seeing each other. The settled down for a long quiet night. Quite how long neither of them could say, but they were disturbed from their slumbering by a sound. It had started to rain and the sound it made beating on the surface above brought them from a fitful slumber. They began to feel a sensation of motion as though flood water was sweeping in and being near to the mouth of the  river thought the gentle rocking their plastic prison might lead to their escape.
            "How far do you think we are from the bank?"  Peter asked, aware that something unexpected was happening; something that might be to their advantage.
            "Not far I don't think,"  the now deposed leader of the Sticklebacks said,"the water is shallow here.  Earlier I noticed a Moor hen swim above us, and its feet seemed almost to touch."
            "Then you wouldn't expect the incoming current to move us?"
            "No it is odd; and I don't think it is raining that hard."  As he spoke there was a lurch, causing them both to shoot away as if being chased, though neither knew by who, or to where they might escape. Another lurch followed, causing the 'bottle to tip almost on its side before it righted itself.
            "What's happening?" Peter shouted, more puzzled than frightened.
            "I don't know," shouted Sol "it's as though we are being carried away in a flood."
            Peter managed to get to the little window and pushed open the flap. He could see very little in the poor light, and because the water was churning all around him, and yet it did not seem like a flood.  It was also fairly quiet, only the sound of steady rain just above his head. It didn't sound like a storm.  And yet the bottle that was their prison was defiantly moving, and then the sound of the rain changed. It was hitting the plastic bottle directly.
            "We're not submerged any more." Peter called to Sol.
            "Put your head back in Peter, if you don't want it knocking off."  Peter was shocked.  He could not see the owner of the voice, but he knew at once who it was.
            "Frederick?" he asked, "Is that you?"
            "Of course it's me," the voice came from the nearby murk "who else would come out in the middle of the night to get his friends out of jail?"
            "Well I never." Peter said to himself, once more uncertain about Frederick's sense of humour.  Was he making a joke, or was that just his straight forward way of saying things.
            Nearly there," Frederick said, and with a final lurch he shouted "Your out of the water now you can get out."
            "But how?"
            "Get out and have a look."
            At once Peter swam to the tunnel of the prison, only to find that as the water ran out of the bottle through the neck, and through the hole they had made, the level had dropped. At first he tried to pull himself into the tunnel, but it was to slippery, so then he had to go to the other end and take a run at it.  Pausing a moment to explain to Sol what was going on he set off  as quick as he could and at the last moment launched himself up, and through, and with a splash he landed in a muddy puddle.
            "Over here." Frederick shouted. 
            "But how?" Peter asked once again, "I thought that Sol Jnr. had captured you as well." then he looked astonished when Frederick pointed to his little army.
            "It was easy really," he said, and smiled his wide smile "just needed a bit of brawn."  And there, with the bottle still on their backs Peter could just make out twenty or more frogs, resting after the effort of lifting the bottle out of the pond."They didn't think of us coming overland and . . . tell you later. Before he could finish his explanation he was stopped by a commotion in the water. "Got to go." he shouted to Peter as he leapt back in to join the fray.
            The Sticklebacks had discovered the disappearance of their prison, and its residents, and were now attacking those frogs who were still in the water. Vicious and insistent, they were biting every limb in sight.
            Don't forget what we practised" Frederick was shouting as he swam and dived between his ranks. As if to demonstrate he grabbed an attacking fish in his mouth, and with a swoosh of his powerful legs he shot to the surface, where an equally powerful flick of his top half hurled the hapless stickleback onto the bank. Soon his ‘froggy’ army were following his lead, ignoring the pain of their own injuries, until the side of the lake was littered with wriggling but no longer threatening fish.
            Then Frederick appeared again, shouting in the dark for

 Peter  "I think we've got them on the run."
            "That's wonderful." Peter shouted as he jumped up and down "but don't forget Sol is still in the bottle, and he can't come out of the water.
            "Yes I know, but he will just have to stay there until this is over. At least it's safe in the there."
            Peter pushed his head through the flap in the bottom of the bottle. "Did you hear that Sol?"
            "Yes I did, but tell Frederick to be careful. It was too easy, and my son would not give up so quickly." and while he had Peter's attention he added "and for Pete's sake get me out of here"
            Peter ignored the pun, though he was curious to know  how a stickleback could know of such a term. Neverthe less he was concerned for Sol. "Are you sure?"
            "I must or I will lose the right to lead my people."
            Peter understood, but did not now how to help. All the frogs who had lifted the bottle out of the water, had left to join in the battle, and he knew he would not be able to lift it.
            "See if you can roll it" Sol shouted.
            "No chance, it's square, but I might be able to spin it. With that he pushed the neck of the bottle and was pleased to feel a little movement. Then a little more, until bit by bit he had turned it so that the neck of the bottle was pointing back to the water.
            "The trouble is it is not quite there, and you'll finish up stuck like all the others."
            "How far from the edge?"
            "Two body lengths," Peter called "maybe three."
            "OK, I've got an idea." Sol went to first the neck of the bottle, what they had earlier called the tunnel. Luckily the bottle was sloping down a little at this end so the water inside was right up to the opening.  Then he went to the back, turned, and with as much power as he could he swam back to the front. Too late he knew that he did not have the power to leap and crashed rather clumsily at the end. Undaunted he returned to try again. This time he curled up against the end wall, tensing his body until it was like a coiled spring. Concentrating like never before, he gathered his thoughts and his inner strength. The moment came when he launched himself, hurtling through the water like a torpedo, and at precicely the right moment he rose to a shallow leap, and shot through the tunnel to freedom. Though Peter's estimate of the distance was close enough, Sol had no way of calculating how far his leap would take him, and he was horrified to find himself on the edge of the grass.  A few wiggles took him a little closer, but he knew that he could not survive long of the water.  It was all or nothing now, as he made a last desperate effort, but then he felt two hands pushing him as he went over the edge, down the muddy slope and fell headlong  into Paradise Pond.
            "Good luck Sol." He faintly heard Peter's voice as he disappeared. 
            It was a long night for Peter, as It passed slowly from the darkness of night the  pale light of the dawn. He had felt so ineffectual sitting and watching, and waiting; knowing that he had neither the skills nor stamina to be any real help.  Indeed, before his last dive Frederick had told him to stay where he was "You'll only get in the way." he had said "and besides, you have a bigger battle to win. We can't afford to lose you."
            Peter had seen a great change in his ‘froggy’ friend in the time they had been together; not least a new maturity and an acceptance of his responsibilities. But would he survive this battle and those still to come in order to lead his people to a happier Paradise?  
            Now he looked for signs of activity, but all was quiet. He wondered if he dare go back into the water and take a look.  In half an hour it will be light enough to see. Then, he decided, if nothing had happened, he would go and find out for himself.  He didn't have to wait that long however, for a splash announced the arrival of Frederick, followed shortly by Starr.  Both were dishevelled and injured, blood seeping from numerous wounds. And both were very quiet.
            "Well?" Peter asked, impatient, when neither of them seemed willing, or capable of speaking.
            "It's all over." muttered Frederick
            "Well where is everyone?"
            "Things need to be done; everyone is busy." This time it was Star speaking, very subdued.
            "Well, who won for goodness sake?"
            "We did." they answered together, and then stopped, each thinking the other would continue. For a while it was quiet, neither of them finding any words. Peter was beginning to feel uneasy.  Something was wrong.  He could see there faces clearly now, and he knew that something was wrong.  He looked first at Frederick, and then, when the frog remained silent, at Star.
            "Sol is dead." It was all he could manage at first, but then he continued "Killed by his son."
            Frederick seemed to wake up. "He fought bravely and he was the equal of his cowardly offspring; and he would have beaten too if it had been a fair fight."  Now that he had started he wanted to tell it all. "When everyone realized that they two had engaged each other all the other skirmishes stopped.  I can tell you, Sol fought like a man possessed."
            Frederick was getting into the swing of it "Soon everyone was watching these two; father and son, fighting to the death. One for honour and the other for power. There were many of Sol Jnr's followers who were ashamed as they watched. Ashamed that they had deserted their true leader." He paused for breath, or to relive the memory.  "Just then Sol delivered a blow which knocked his son almost unconscious, and he would have apprehended him there and then.  He would not have killed him, but he would have had him locked up, and then banished. Suddenly two of Sol Jnr's followers dashed up and held Sol tight.  Why no-one intervened I don't know - perhaps everyone was too stunned - but it gave Sol Jnr the chance to recover, and while his father was still held he gave him a vicious and deadly bite in the neck."
            The king of the frogs stopped., and after a pause Star continued the story. "There was pandemonium. Shocked at what they had seen, those loyal to Sol attacked swiftly, and in a minute Sol Jnr. and his accomplices had been struck down, and not one of their so called supporters came to their aid.  Some, as my friend said, were ashamed, and promised to return to the fold. Others were too afraid, cowards who will be dealt with later.
            "So are the Sticklebacks without a leader?" Peter wanted to know.
            "Not they." Frederick had found his voice again "Star fought as bravely as anyone, and he was chosen to be leader, and together we can take on Giles and his newts.
            Peter remembered something his grandfather had told him about. He had not quite understood then, but now he did. The King is dead. Long live the King.