THE POLITICS OF PARADISE POND

                                                                   

                                                                     Chapter Eight

                                                                   The Great Storm

The following morning Peter was up as soon as he saw the first shimmerings of light in the water. He had lost all sense of time, but 'yesterday' had been a day he would never forget. He had been a prisoner; had escaped, only to see Sol, his fellow prisoner and friend, killed.  The only good to come from that sorry event was that the sticklebacks were now firmly on the side of the frogs. They had seen for themselves what ambition and pride can do to an immature mind, and they could see the same thing happening across the water in newt-land. They did not want that.
 An early swim was what he needed before the responsibilities of the new day enfolded him.  Life in the water was all swim of course, but for Peter, even in so short a time, a 'swim' meant acrobatics. From that very first day he had reveled in the delights of the 'ballet' he had discovered. To rise through the water, breaking its surface, only to twist and dive, arms forward, or arms at his side as his strong legs and flippered feet sent him skimming across the bed of the lake. In and out of the waving plants he would go before, with a deft thrust of those legs he would strike the floor and propel himself upwards again shooting like a swordfish, his arms stretched forward as he broke through the surface, his mouth opening to gulp a lungful of fresh air before once again curving gracefully back to his new watery home.
          Despite the problems Peter was in his element, performing one move after another, enjoying the artistry which he could feel rather than see.  But this time his pleasure was to end abruptly, for, as he completed his last maneuver he swam straight into the arms of one of Giles's lieutenants. 
          Peter was held fast, a prisoner once again. 
          'This is not part of the plan' Peter thought as he sped through the water gripped in the arms of his captor.  He had tried to talk to his newt abductor, but he had elected not to respond.  As the Great Crest of Giles's lieutenant cut through the water he remained silent, thinking no doubt of his great good fortune. He must surely have been unable to believe his luck when his master’s number one enemy literally fell into his arms.  Now he was hurrying back to claim his prize, knowing how grateful Giles would be.
          Peter however was none too pleased.  Furious with himself for his stupidity. How many times had he been told to take care. "This is a dangerous place." Frederick had said many times.  "Keep your eyes open." Frederick kept on telling him, and yet he had to do that silly display.  Even Clarence had warned him that in the water there were different rules.
          'Now look what a mess you're in'  he told himself  'to escape the clutches of one enemy, only to fall straight into the arms of another'.
          During the time it took to go from where he was captured near the south point, to the newts enclave on the north, he had time to think. The journey seemed to be over in a flash, but at the same time it seemed to last forever. a curious paradox. But Peter had more on his mind than philosophical niceties. By the time they arrived and was dumped unceremoniously at the feet of Giles, Peter had only one idea on how he was going to deal with this new and unexpected situation.
          Wait and see, and if the chance comes ... run like hell!!  Of course he knew that his grandfather would not approve of him using such lnguage!
          "Well well well; what have we got here?"  Giles said at once, when he saw who his prisoner was.  He turned to his lieutenant  "Well done," he said  "where did you find him?"
          Peter was not in the least concerned about their little exchange of pleasantries.  He was far more worried about his own predicament. But what could he do?. One thing was for sure, that he was not about to give up, even though he knew that his situation was desperate.  Outnumbered as he was by many hundreds it was unlikely he would get the chance to escape.  Giles might just kill him. Simply get rid of him; out of the way; have done with him. He had no illusions about that.  If it came to that he was prepared. But he was not afraid, although the thought of dying that way made him very sad.  Mostly because he would not see his granddad, and his mother any more, or his brother Jason. He loved them all so much.  But more than that he was sad that they would never know what had happened to him and that he would not get the opportunity to explain. But even more than that, was that he would have failed to bring peace to Paradise.
          There was just one chance, and Peter had to hang on that slim hope; that while he was alive, Giles might use him as a bargaining tool.
          He said a silent prayer.
          Back at the frog compound behind Frog Island there was pandemonium.  When he realized Peter was missing, Frederick and his party had searched everywhere , and only with great reluctance did the stop looking.
          "Had he somehow missed his way?" they had asked each other.  But that became more unlikely by the minute and the hour as their search proved fruitless.  So too was the possibility that he might have met with an accident, for they found no body. Finally it came down to two options. The first was that he might have been eaten.  There were plenty of mouths in the water big enough to swallow him in one gulp. The other was that he had been captured. They clung to that hope, for then at least he might escape; or be rescued.
          "If he is still alive?"  It was Frederick who voiced their worst fears.
          Once that simple explanation was accepted it didn't take long to work out who might be responsible for such an outrage.
          "After all," said Frederick "it can't be the sticklebacks.  We parted as friends, and they promised to join us to fight the newts."
          "It must be Giles." he concluded  "But if it is, how do we get him back?"
          I was an easy question to ask, but not so easy to answer.
          During the time that Frederick had been the leader of the frogs, his only real duty was to maintain the normal level of harmony within the community, and to settle minor disputes.  Only since Giles had arrived had he been called upon to show that he had more backbone than was usually displayed, but he had not yet made a big impression. Of course there had never been anything like this before, either requiring diplomatic skills, or a situation where he had been called upon to demonstrate his military prowess. So how could he know if he had displayed the right mixture of toughness and wisdom to his fellow frogs.
          But one thing was still in his mind. He remembered that not very long ago, Peter had told him that if he 'was' fit to be the king the time would come when he was going to have to prove it. Perhaps that time was now.
          He called all the adults to an emergency meeting, telling his inner circle that only a few would be excused to look after the nursery.  When they were gathered Frederick took a good deep breath and started.  It was a defining moment in living memory within the frog community.  Never before had they been called to arms; never before had they been faced with annihilation, and never before had they had a leader who spoke with such passion.
          Just then there was an interruption when an eel wriggled its way to the front and asked the 'king' if he may speak.
          Frederick was not sure at first, uncertain of the ground rules of political meetings.  But he allowed the eels request.
          "I have a message for you from Clarence, the senior personage of the pond."
            Frederick knew Clarence well enough, and though he had reservations as to his astuteness, he knew he was venerated by the pond communities. His great age - it was generally thought - being synonymous with wisdom.
          "Go ahead, tell us his message."
          "Clarence sends his felicitations to you, and his apologies for not speaking to you directly, but you see the water here is too shallow for him."
          "Thank him for both," said Frederick anxious to display some diplomacy, but never-the-less, a little impatient at the unfamiliar word;  "but what is his message?"
          "Word spreads quickly ... he knows all about the newts trying to take over, and he has just heard that Peter has been captured by them."
          "How did he find out?"
          "He has just been visited by their leader Giles, who has given him an ultimatum."
          "An ultimatum?" Frederick repeated, looking round to see if anyone knew what it meant. 
          The eel carried on, unaware or uncaring of Frederick’s lack of understanding. "He has said that in return for Peter's life, all the frogs should leave Paradise."
          This was totally unexpected, and it immediately threw the meeting into chaos, with frogs shouting and leaping about, and in seconds the water was churning.  Panic and disbelief took hold, as the word spread and all in the frog community feared for their lives and futures. There was so much noise that soon it spread beyond the water and all the other creatures in the rest of the world stopped and listened.
          "What could it be?" said Robert, a rabbit. Even Stanley a stoat, who was just about to pounce on the Robert the rabit, turned his head at the noise. Puzzled and a little alarmed he listened; but when he returned to the task in hand his meal for that day had hopped away.
          The birds in the trees around the pond and in the wood took off like a dark cloud and circled the sky a few times before settling in trees further away. Safe, they thought, in the denseness of the farthest forest.
          Even the bees and all the other nectar foragers flew to the safe havens of their hives and nests, while the spiders and the insects hurried to their holes and hiding places.
          The noise continued until the clouds became heavy and dark and soon the rain started to fall. It was only the storm that brought sanity back to Paradise.
Only the crashes and bangs of the thunder replacing the froggy din, exchanging one fear for another, as the lightning flashes illuminated the ever darkening sky.
          This time Peter was alone in his prison; a cave scooped out of the side of the pond in the newts settlement in Paradise pond. It was quite small and he was surprised to find that if he stood on his flippery toes his head was out of the water.  It was also quite dark so he could hardly see, but he could touch the roof of the cave which seemed like hard packed soil. He could not help wondering how much of it there was between him and the air above. Thoughts of digging himself out were in his mind, but would he get a chance?
          A noise outside his prison brought escape plans to an end.  The two guards entered, and, taking Peter by the arms they led him out.
          'This is it' he thought, and when, in the better light he saw Giles standing tall and smirking, he was sure.  Then his captor started to laugh, his whole body shaking from his head through his body with its wonderful crest, all the way down its tail. In a moment the guards were laughing too, and as the sound spread one by one the other newts were caught up by the infectious nature of the sound. Before long the whole of the newt community were lost in the shakes and the vibrations, and all, down to the very last one, were helpless with the inescapable infectious sensation of uncontrolled laughter.
          The residents of the rest of the world heard it and wondered, especially those who had been disturbed by the frogs at the other end of the lake. Now they had this additional, and just as hysterical, noise from the newts.  It was now pandemonium on a grand scale; bedlam; close to madness; from one end to the other. Paradise had descended into some kind of hell, and soon both it, and the rest of the world were in uproar.
          It was only the storm that brought sanity back to Paradise.
          The darkening sky had gone unnoticed at first, while the frogs at one end, and the newts at the other end had entered the first stages of hysteria. First the wind had got up and ruffled the surface of the water.  Then the penny spots started to fall as the leading edge of the dark swirling clouds were driven over the pond, becoming bigger and faster as the force increased.  As the lightning flashed and the thunder crashed and the rain drove itself with a deafening rush into the water, all other sounds came to and end.  The frogs stopped screaming, and the newts stopped screaming, until the only sounds in Paradise and the rest of the world came from the heavens above.
          The storm raged for two hours, and, but for the noise of the storm itself there was silence. Throughout the length and breadth of the pond no other sound could be heard.  So violent was it that it would have been almost impossible for anything to rise above the cacophony being provided by the angry sky, and none of the pond population was trying to do so. They all, from the smallest creature to the largest thought that this was the end; Armageddon; the final conflict.
          Flash after sizzling flash the lightning lit up the dense black sky, while the thunder cracked and crashed seemingly from the very heart of Paradise.
          Then one tiny voice tried to break trough, ignoring the fact that it should not have had the slightest hope of being heard.  But no matter, for this one voice was shouting for more than just to be heard.  When all around him were cowering in fear he stood up with his arms stretched out above his head pleading for more lightning, more thunder, more rain.  It did not matter that he could not be heard.  What mattered was that he could be seen.
          When the storm had first reached its peak, Peter had seen how all the enemy forces had been reduced to jelly, and it was he who was shouting. Giles lifted his head from beneath the protection of its front legs and stared uncomprehending as his prisoner reveled in the horror that was all around.
          'Is he a God after all; or is he a demon?' he was asking himself, but then another deafening explosion, which seemed to come from six inches above his head sent him back under cover.
          Peter waited until a few more gigantic sparks had added to the confusion among the newts, and then he raised his arms once more and shouted at the top of his voice... "Enough !.  Enough I say."
          He had judged it well, for there were no major flashes after his apparent intervention, and in a few minutes it started to get lighter. 
          "Begone with you." he shouted again, and at that moment the sun came through sending its beams down into the water, creating its dancing dappled pattern all over the bottom of the pond.
          Giles slowly emerged from his cowering and looked long and hard at Peter.
          "How did you do that?" he asked in a voice that had lost all its arrogance and authority.
          "You want some more?" Peter asked sharply, raising his arms above his head. At that very moment the storm gave out its very last crack, further away now, but seeming to have answered Peter's summons.
          "No no no !!" shouted Giles, but the loudness of his voice was from fear, not aggression.
          Giles had nothing more to say but simply turned and floated away, his two minders remaining with the silent Giles.  Peter was free.
          Whether the word had spread quickly he did not know, but as he moved away from his prison, all the other newts moved out of his way, cowering to let him pass.  Was it that they were afraid of this new God, or was it the confusion of knowing that Giles, who they had followed conscientiously and obeyed without a murmur, was not invincible after all?.  No hand was raised to prevent him leaving as he moved unhurriedly between them. It was only when he was well clear that he took advantage of he new underwater skills, and a boost of adrenaline. He swam as fast as he could. He did not want to tempt providence more than he had to, and the spell behind him might yet be broken.  They might still try to recapture him.
          Peter heaved a sigh of relief when he passed the rocky north point and headed for the safety of the compound behind frog island. His reception was ecstatic and as the word of Peter's escape spread through the community memories of the frightful storm quickly faded. 
          Everyone was glad of his safe return; not least Frederick who had been a tower of strength through the nightmare, moving among his people comforting and soothing their fears, and assuring them that he would not let them be forced out of Paradise.  For the first time as leader of the frogs he had felt that he was doing something worthwhile, and that he was needed. 
          It was a good feeling, but he was not allowed to wallow in this new sense of self-righteousness for long however. Pleased as he was at Peter's release he knew that there was still work to be done.
          Peter agreed.  "Don't think it's all over just yet." he told the frog  "Giles will be just as bad when he gets over this setback, and he will be looking for revenge."
          "What must we do then?" replied Frederick, not yet quite able to take the lead.
          "We must take advantage where we can; meet him head on. Tomorrow we must combine all our forces and drive him out.
          "I must find Clarence again. He must know something that I don't know, some ways that we haven't thought of."
          Peter was up at first light and set off without delay, though he didn't really know where to go. He swam effortlessly among the grasses that swayed in the gentle currents at the shallower end of the lake. But as he moved further from Frog Island the deeper became the water.  Ahead were the Points. Up to there it was relatively safe, with plenty of plant growth and rocks, and in water that was still not yet too deep there were plenty of places to hide. Beyond the Points it was quite different. The open water of the main body of the lake, with it's considerable depth at the centre, would make his task difficult. To start with the lake was teaming with life, from minuscule insects to large fish. Some, which even in his earlier life Peter would earlier have described as large, were, in this new and watery environment in in his reduced stature, enormous.  Moreover he had no way of knowing which would be friendly neighbours, and which would regard him as a tasty meal. All he could do was to search and search. Taking his life in his hands once or twice he did ask, but made a point of approaching fish smaller than himself, and those on there own.  No way was he going to risk another attack like the stickleback charge.

           It made no difference that they were now friends, for at the time they would have left nothing but bones. So far his enquiries had been met with either indifference or fear, or both.  Peter could not understand that they, like he, were wary of strangers. He posed no threat and did not understand that to one smaller that himself he would see him as 'on the lookout’ for today’s main course.
          So the day wore on and by mid-day when Peter could see the sun high overhead, he had not found his quarry. And he was hungry.  He was now close to the centre of the lake where the water was very deep, but Peter remembered that somewhere hereabouts was the cavern where he first met Giles.  Perhaps there was food down there, and a place to rest a while.  He made his way quickly down, gliding gracefully to the bottom, mindful of other possible predators, and of course being careful to avoid Giles and his henchmen.  Their camp was now only minutes away as the newt swims, so he was conscious of the danger.
          Soon he found the pile of rocks and the clearing where Peter had enjoyed his first swimming lesson, and where Giles had introduced himself. With a feeling of trepidation he entered the rock pile. Here and there spaces between the fallen blocks had created 'rooms' where larger sections of some old building which had been crudely demolished, had fallen across smaller sections. One such, which Peter discovered had come to be known as the Cavern, was large enough to accommodate a gathering, but Peter was relieved to find it relatively empty. Occasionally a movement in the shimmering and dancing rays, or a flash at it's shadowy edges kept him on his long flippery toes, and more than once he was ready to flee when a large fish appeared. Numerous smaller fry came into view, but most of them left just as rapidly when they spotted Peter.
          Carefully he picked his way between the rocks.  He knew of course that these were not natural rocks, but the remains of some long forgotten building. Peter could not help wondering what it might have been, and also whether any other of the lakes inhabitants were aware of its uniqueness.  For now however he had to leave that aside as he carefully swam through the 'openings' from one 'room' to another.  With a gentle flip of his ankle or subtle movement of his hand he navigated slowly towards the centre of the heap. For all its depth the water was reasonably clear, and enough light filtered through for him to see.  There was no roof to speak of in many places; only where a fallen beam or wall had come to rest across a space was there a covering. Here and there Peter could see some very dark corners which he avoided, fearful of what may be lurking. Eventually he came to a large open area, partly covered, but with enough spaces to allow a good deal of light to come through.
          "Wow" Peter would have whistled, though that was one thing he hadn't yet learned how to do, "this must be what they call the Temple."
          He came to a standstill, flippers on the floor- something he seldom had cause to do - and looked around. Again he wondered as to its origin, but he saw nothing to give him a clue. After many many years submerged everywhere had a covering of moss and lichen, silt and mud, and whatever evidence there might have been was hidden from his view.
          Peter didn't know where to turn next. He knew that he could have asked Frederick for help, but he was tied up with his own community and had enough on his plate at the moment.  He resolved to find Clarence the Carp, who had more experience than anyone in Paradise pond, and surely he would know what to do. But where to find him?
          Peter remembered his first meeting with Clarence. It had been early when he left his den in the boulders and swam to where they had accidentally bumped into each other. He had been less cautious that day, when? Was it only yesterday - it seemed so long ago, he seemed to have lost track of time. He had left the safety of the frogs encampment, and swam with his usual flamboyance, enjoying the extravagant manoeuvres; unaware perhaps of the importance mission. Now he knew that safety was more important than having fun. He had come to realize that many lives depended on the success of this search.  Even the well-being of Paradise itself might be in jeopardy if he failed. It all seemed so long ago.
          Then thoughts of the past were swept away when he saw him; at the far end of the stadium like temple. Just his head at first in a poorly lit alcove, but he was sure it was Clarence, and moved forward to greet him. The safety of the rocky rubble was far behind him when he realized his mistake, for 'Clarence' moved too, and Peter could see him clearly now. Not only was his head and face quite unlike his friend, but its mouth was huge and full of teeth. He turned to flee, but safety was out of reach and he was being pursued by a monster of giant proportions. Too late Peter realized that the rocks were too far away. Worse, now he could see more clearly for his adversary was fully emerged from his hiding place, and any doubts that it was really was a monster quickly disappeared. Five times bigger than Clarence it was, and fifty times bigger than himself.  There would be no contest if it decided to attack; and attack it did; suddenly, unexpectedly, and without seeming to prepare. It just sprang, shooting forward like a torpedo taking Peter completely by surprise. He had gently settled on the floor of the lake as he watched and waited but even then the sudden rush was unexpected.  By some reflex Peter pushed his legs as hard as he could shooting him upwards, but he was a tenth of a second to late. True he just escaped the snapping jaws, but was caught full force by the bulbous protrusion just above his attacker's eyes.  So hard was the blow that Peter felt himself spinning out of control, as though he were in the air, until he crashed against the stem of a stout underwater plant. The plant, more like a small tree to Peter, was bent backwards by the blow, and then suffered another battering when seconds later, it was flattened by the huge body of the giant fish as it tore through. Peter could hear rather than see the snapping jaws as the monster search for his meal, but somehow in the wavering foliage it had missed his target. When Peter regained his sense of place he was glad to see that he was nearly back to the pile of rocks. But he also found that the demon fish was almost upon him again, his jaws open just enough to display his teeth in all their menacing glory, and ready to use them again. Once more Peters reflexes took over, and another mighty push sent him hurtling toward the ruins, where he hoped to find a place to hide. With only a fraction of a second to spare Peter shot between two rocks, and safety. At least for a while. Then he felt everything move like an earthquake, and there was the sound of cursing and shouting. It continued for a while as first one rock and then another was pushed by the determined predator. but they all held, and when the dust settled Peter was relieved to see that his little bolt hole was still intact. But was his tiny refuge going to be just another prison?
            "Just you wait," he heard his adversary calling "I'll get you if it's the last thing I do." Peter felt the water all around him fill with bubbles as the big fish snorted through the little gap.
            "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Peter retorted, a little angry to find himself trapped.
            "My own size! . . . my own size?"  Peter waited intently for some continuation. When it came it was like an explosion of bad temper.
            "How do you think I got to be as big as I am?"  It was a question, but not one that Peter felt inclined to answer. He had no need to do so for another blast of bubbles filled the space around him.
             "Not by picking on someone my own size, I can tell you."
             "Well you're a bully then. No better than that other bully Giles. Just wait until I see Clarence."
             "You know Clarence?" This time the voice was quieter, more restrained, and this time Peter felt it was a question he could answer.
             "Of course I know Clarence, and what's more he will be very angry when he hears how you attacked me."
           "Well I'm sorry I'm sure; but how was I to know?" the voice on the other side of the rocks was a little contrite now, but not, Peter thought, convincing enough.
               "Well . . . you should ask for a start."
               "Oh yes." Peter could almost see the sneer. "Oh yes, that's very clever. Excuse me sir, are you a friend of Clarence. No, good. Snap."  Then there was something almost like a laugh "Where have you come from? You don't seem to know how things work in Paradise." The sarcasm was very clear.
                "Well I'm learning fast. Just wait till I see Clarence," Peter said, trying to establish some kind of authority, but realising just the same, that this was not perhaps the best time or place to explain just where he had come from. A mild rebuke would serve better "I'm sure that he will be very angry."
               "It was nothing personal you know, and you are wandering about in my territory." Now the voice was quite different. Not subdued altogether, but no longer aggressive. Peter decided that this was the time to take a chance.
               "Do you know where I can find Clarence?"
               "I do."
               "Alright then; here's the deal. You take me to him and I will not tell him about your disgraceful behaviour."
                "But what about my dinner?"
                "You'll just have to go hungry until teatime, and then pick on someone your own size."
                "But I am the biggest living thing in Paradise. I'll starve to death." his voice was now almost timid, and like most bully's the big fish backed down when confronted.
                 Peter smiled as he wriggled through to gap and came face to face with a huge head. "I'm Peter," he said "what?s your name?"
                "Mostly they call me Paddy. Don't know why really . . . Paddy the Pike."
                "How do you do Paddy," he said as he climbed onto the big fishes back "now please take me to Charles, and Paddy . . .?"
                "Yes sir." Paddy was now conciliatory, but not quite beaten, for there was just a hint of sarcasm.
                "Not too fast mind you; there isn't much to hang onto up here."
          Five minutes later Paddy delivered the jubilant Peter to Clarence's patch, and gently nudged him down the slope of his face, past his teeth - hidden at this moment by a thick lipped smile - from where he floated to face the surprised carp.
          "Thank you so much for coming to see me." Clarence said, giving appropriate politeness as the ponds most senior member.
          "Thank you for seeing me." Peter responded, enjoying the little ceremony.
          "Charmed dear boy, charmed. I see you have met Paddy."
          Paddy shifted a little uncomfortably, recognising at once the authority in the oldest, though smaller, inhabitant of their world. But Peter was as good as his word and made no mention of Paddy's luncheon plans.
          "He was very kind. When he heard that I wanted to see you he insisted on bringing me to you; wouldn't take no for an answer."
          Paddy smiled, as only the biggest toothiest mouth in all of Paradise could smile. "Ah it was a pleasure." he said, catching the mood.
          "And what can I do for you?" Clarence asked with just the slightest downward shift; the nearest a carp can come to a bow.
          The time for pleasantries was over and Peter came strait to the point. "I intend to call a meeting of the whole pond population. From the largest to the smallest - the oldest to the youngest.  I will tell them that there is no place for Giles or any others like him. I will tell them that Giles will be given an ultimatum which he must accept if he wishes to remain in Paradise.  If not he will be driven out."
          "Bravo my boy, but where do I fit in?"
          "I want you to go to Giles and make sure that he will be at the meeting. . . no excuses mind!"
          So as Clarence set off on to accomplish his task, Peter accepted a lift from his new friend, back to the frog end of the lake.
          "Not too near if you don't mind." Peter cautioned "You'll only send them all into a panic, and besides . . . I know you're still hungry."  
          Soon Frederick sent his men off to visit every community in the pond - except of course the newts; Clarence would see to that - every crook and cranny was visited, and no living creature was missed.  By the end of the day it was all done; everything was ready, and tomorrow there would be the first meeting of its kind ever to have happened in Paradise Pond.
          As Peter settled down for the night he could not help thinking about the events of the day.  So much had happened that he could hardly believe it.  But he was still here.  How near to death he had been could only be conjecture, but he felt that what he was doing was right, and worth the risks he was taking. 
          'Tomorrow' he mused, as his eyes became heavy; 'tomorrow might be quite a day too' ... his last thought before he fell into a deep sleep.