FOUR

The news that something had made the Queen smile for the first time in a quarter of a century, or, in other words, since the death of her husband, Prince Albert, spread like wildfire among the courtiers at Windsor Castle. Not only had she smiled once, but had continued to do so, and had even spoken quite pleasantly to a number of people. More, she had exchanged her widow’s cap of black for one of white lace, and all because of that swoose!

‘It’s all so beautifully timed,’ the Lord Steward of Her Majesty’s Household said to the Lady of the Bedchamber. ‘Next year it’s the Queen’s Golden Jubilee as you know, when the whole kingdom will be celebrating her fifty years on the throne, and she will have to go about and show herself to the people. How pleased they will be to see her wearing a happy face again after all those years of gloom. The greatest care must be taken of that bird.’

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The very next morning, the Ornithologist Royal came in armed with a large pair of scissors. He intended to clip the flight feathers of one of the swoose’s wings, a painless operation which would render the bird incapable of flight. Little did he guess that Fitzherbert had plans of his own.

First, despite having been released from his cage the previous evening on the Queen’s orders, he had been shut up again as soon as she had gone, and this he did not like.

Second, he was longing to tell the water vole all about his audience with Queen Victoria.

So the moment the Ornithologist Royal opened the cage, Fitzherbert pushed past him and made his way as fast as he could along a corridor and out through a door.

‘Stop! Stop!’ cried the Ornithologist Royal, hurrying after him, scissors in hand, and then could only stand and watch in horror as the swoose took wing and flew away towards the Thames.

Fitzherbert flew upriver, trying to remember whereabouts it was that he had met the vole, when suddenly he saw him swimming across a little backwater.

‘Alph!’ he cried, and swooping down, landed with a great splash. He looked around, but could only see a couple of moorhens that squawked angrily at him from the rushes.

Then he saw a blunt brown head break surface.

‘Alph!’ he cried again. ‘Remember me?’

‘How could I forget you?’ said the vole sharply. ‘First time we met, you nearly ran me down, and now you drop out of the sky almost on top of me. You’re a clumsy great hummock and no mistake.’

‘Sorry, Alph,’ said Fitzherbert. ‘I was in a hurry to tell you. I’ve seen the Queen! And what d’you think – she smiled at me!’

‘Fancy!’ said Alph.

He swam to the bank, and climbed out and shook himself.

‘Wonder why?’ he said.

‘I don’t really know,’ said Fitzherbert. ‘She seemed to like me. And they were all very pleased. Everyone was ever so nice to me.’

‘They didn’t shut you up then?’ said Alph.

‘Well, yes, they did, but I escaped.’

‘What for?’

‘Why, to come and find you and thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For suggesting I should visit the Queen. It was a great idea. I must be getting back now, I dare say Her Majesty’s missing me, wouldn’t you think?’

For a moment the water vole did not answer. He sat on his haunches, combing his very small round ears with his forepaws. Then he fixed his very small beady eyes on the swoose.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing, young fellow,’ he said. ‘It’s all very well being the Queen’s pet, but what if she gets fed up with you, eh?’

‘Well, then I suppose she’d just let me go.’

‘She might,’ said Alph. ‘Or she might not. There’s plenty of meat on you from what I can see. You don’t want to end up like that, do you?’

‘End up like what?’ asked Fitzherbert.

‘Eaten,’ said Alph. ‘At Windsor,’ and down his burrow he went.