John dropped the rope and walked to Jerome. Amicably he put his arm around the back of the much shorter man. “Jerome, Jerome” he sighed, almost as if apologising. “We are on the squire’s business and must make all haste to the village. I am sure you would not be as hasty as demanding payment from the squire now, would you?” Jerome looked at him aghast and shoved his arm away. “Unlike yourself and Solomon ‘ere, the squire always pays his toll whether leading an ‘orse or riding on said ‘orse or with cart. Always takes time to bid me and my sister a good morn or evening ‘an all. Gentleman he is. As I says, it is a mite for each ‘un so I would be reaching for my purse if I were of your mind.” He paused to consider the alternatives. “Or turning back, ‘an all.” he concluded.
John threw his arms up in despair and returned to the horses and Solomon who was by now stood frowning behind him. John noticed Solomon was still clutching the rope tied to Nob very tightly. “Jerome is insisting on his toll” he sighed and Solomon nodded. “So I see.” he replied.
John patted down his tunic. “I have no coins upon me, unfortunately. I have left my purse at home.” “Me too.” said Solomon and the two of them sighed in unison. Behind him Satan’s Arse snickered loudly, waiting. Nob seemed to be attempting a smile. John kicked at a stone on the ground and returned to Jerome. Behind him the small bridge straddled the fast flowing stream. John knew that there were no circumstances under which he would attempt to lead either of the two horses across the river, which, he supposed was why the bridge was where it was in the first place. He also knew that the nearest ford was at last two miles away to the east. An impossible distance with these two horses. Their supply of carrots would be long gone by then.
“If we may come to an arrangement over payment at a later time?” he enquired, raising his eyebrows as Jerome seemed to be getting increasingly agitated.
“No we may not” he shouted. “It is a farthing for both or nothing. This bridge is my livelihood, as you know for sure, master Drawater. No land or holdings for I, and me taking care to maintain the bridge and all. After all, is it not...”
John’s thoughts began to drift away as, like most people from the village, he had heard this story many, many times. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the shape of another figure emerge from the small hut and his heart sank.
“... And with this bridge, and only this bridge mind, both myself and my sister I must support. For shame, pay your toll like a gentleman or be on your way about you.” He stamped his foot in the road as his sister drew alongside him. Cecily Keckilpenny took one look at Solomon and John, then the two horses then spat in the road. “What is this about?” she snarled. “Toll dodgers, is it?” and she produced a small club shaped stick from somewhere within her clothing.
John took a step backwards, raising both of his arms to placate her. “Not at all, Widow Keckilpenny” he said in a soft voice, attempting to take the fire from the situation. She snarled at him once again, waving the stick from hand to hand. “We are about squires business and sadly have neglected to bring along our purses.” Cecily snarled once again. “I am sure that a mutually agreeable conclusion regarding payment can be reached.” and he smiled again.
Cecily took a step forwards and John found himself backing up a step or two. “It is a mite for each horse to be led or ridden” she snorted, returning her attention to swinging the small club once more. “So what is it to be? Toll or turn back?” and she stepped forward once more. It was of course a given truth in the village that the real custodian of the bridge was Cecily, not Jerome. Given that even the wildest brigand attempting to cross the bridge without paying in the middle of a moonless night would at some point come across the club swinging form of the fearsome widow Keckilpenny, always the easiest option was to pay up - and promptly.
John took himself backwards another step and now he could feel Satan’s Arse’s breath on his back. He remembered thinking later on that he could not have envisaged such a situation even in his wildest fancy when he arose that morning. He was only meant to be helping to cut down a tree, for heaven’s sake!
“Wait.” said Solomon, leading Nob forwards. Jerome and Cecily turned their attention to him. Behind him, John continued to feel the warm breath of Satan’s Arse warming his back. Despite this a nervous chill seemed to rise up the entire length of his spine.
“So a mite is the toll for a horse to be led or ridden across your bridge then is it? I understand that a man afoot incurs no toll either - just a horse?” Solomon enquired politely, and despite Cecily swinging her club even more now, he managed a smile.
“Don’t be getting all clever on me Solomon Ruggenall” snarled Cecily, “You know the toll. You’ve gone and paid it every now and then at harvest and the like. Now pay up or be on your way, I cannot stand here all day waiting for you two dullards!”
John was quite surprised as Solomon seemed not taken back at all. In truth, he actually took a step towards Cecily. John was surprised to note that even Satan’s Arse behind him seemed to have stopped breathing.
“Yet a horse can cross on its own with no toll to pay, can it not?” Solomon asked, and watched as the two toll collectors began to frown. “Just the same way that a man can cross alone with incurring no toll?” Jerome took a step forward to stand alongside his sister. “What fool talk is that?” he asked. “An ‘orse can’t cross on its own now, can it?”
“Really?” said Solomon and John registered his movement just out of the corner of his eye, which enabled him to leap out of the way just in time. A leap, he later thought, which probably saved his life.
Solomon moved forward and swinging his arm madly, launched the bag of carrots across the bridge. All four of them watched the long arc of the sack as it flew almost slowly through the air then down, down to the ground where it landed with a bump on the other side of the river, spilling all of the carrots about the ground.
They were not watching the bag as intently as the two horses, however. As they all leaped out of the way, Satan’s Arse reared then shot across the bridge, followed closely by a still grinning Nob. Once across they descended upon the tasty morsels with delight. Even Satan’s Arse seemed to be grinning.
“There we are.” said Solomon, and made his way around the two stunned toll collectors and on to the bridge. “Come along John,” he shouted. “If you have any issue with payment I suggest you take it up with these two fine horses.” John took no time in crossing the bridge to the other side of the river where the two horses now stood, chewing on the carrots eagerly.
Across the bridge the two men could see Cecily taking her stick to Jerome as the two toll collectors seemed to be retiring back indoors to reconsider their pricing policy. John sighed. Now all they had to do was to try and get the remaining carrots off the horses!
IV
~ In which the ropes are tied, Erasmus hits difficulties, Satan’s Arse arrives just in time, and Mathias Litcott discovers The Man in the Oak ~
Henry stood back some way from the tree as the final rope was attached. High above him Erasmus Fynche swayed with the higher branches in the slight breeze. He waved as he noticed him and Henry waved back. “Master ‘Enry, I can see my ‘ouse from up here” he heard coming from high above him and he forced a smile on to his face, a smile that Erasmus was definitely too far above him to notice.
So far everything had gone according to plan and they were making slow but steady progress. Having returned with the ropes Erasmus had made short work of shinning up the tree several times to take the ropes up. Barnaby Gerville had turned out to be an expert on knotting and securing the ropes to the ground with long metal pegs that Henry had made several nights before. Of course the pegs would not hold the tree, but would hopefully secure it so that it did not move too much.
By now a small crowd had gathered to watch progress, word having swiftly travelled around the village about Oliver and Abraham’s folly, and the threat to the currently absent squire’s church. To Henry’s irritation he noted that several members of
the village seemed to have brought a picnic, and there was even a scribe making notes on to a small pile of parchment as the day proceeded. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Henry now realised that the villagers were no longer gathering to watch the tree being felled. They were gathering to watch the church be crushed. Still, he had faith in his plan and as mid-day approached he was glad to note that the weather stayed fine and the wind slight.
Upon his last trip to the ground Erasmus had collected his saw, and strapping it to his back he had climbed back up, higher and higher until he was probably about fifty feet above them, and was starting to lop at the small branches towards the tip of the tree. Henry turned his face away from the tree, his stomach turning as he watched Erasmus sawing away. He was not very good with heights and was in awe of Erasmus’s ability to climb so high up the trunk without seeming to in any way be concerned about the distance he was above the ground. For the third time he heard the small man above him yell, “Here it comes” and a large branch cracked and came plummeting to the ground with a crash. Instantly several of the villagers fell upon it and began moving it to a space some way off the other side of the path where they had decided to store the felled wood earlier on.
It was a surprise to Henry that the branches that looked so small when up in the tree were so large when they were on the ground. Distance did that, he thought, and then shuddered at the thought of what would happen if the tree fell on to the church. It would destroy it completely, he considered. Totally flatten it. As if hearing his thoughts there suddenly began a low creaking sound that grew louder and louder. The villagers about the clearing suddenly went quiet, one or two of them pointing to Erasmus who was still happily sawing away at the top of the tree, completely oblivious to anything else at all. Suddenly the creaking sound stopped followed by a loud crack that seemed to shake the ground. With a lurch the entire trunk of the tree suddenly moved about three feet. Towards the church. Several of the villagers cried out aloud, and Petronella Cuvlverwell screamed. “Save us” he heard Barnaby yell, and at the same time he noticed the scribe reach for his parchment and begin scribbling furiously.
Almost as if in desperation Henry ran towards the trunk of the tree. He knew that there was nothing at all that he could do, but he ran anyway. The tree gave another tremor that seemed to shake the entire trunk. Henry wailed in anguish.
Then it stopped.
Henry looked up in despair as he now saw that the tree was most definitely listing towards the church by about three feet. He knew unless they could do something drastic it was definitely going to fall on the church. He was thinking on this when suddenly a small metal saw shot past his ear and embedded itself in the ground before him. Erasmus!
Backing away from the trunk he saw Erasmus was thankfully still up there but was now clutching tightly to the trunk. He saw that he had climbed a little higher than he had been a moment before, and he was now hanging on to the tree tightly. “Erasmus!” he yelled, “Do not move!” Taking stock of the situation Henry saw that two of the three ropes were now slack, the trees movement ripping the pegs from the ground. He also knew that any further movement by Erasmus could bring the entire tree down.
“Don’t ‘ee worry your head” came a voice from high above him. “I am staying as still as a mouse. Neither up nor down am I moving.” Henry gathered a few of the villagers about him.
“We need horses, and we need them now!”
As if by plan Solomon and John arrived in the clearing coaxing two enormous horses. Henry sighed with relief. “Cuthbert, Mathias! Get these two horses on to those two loose ropes and take up the slack! We need that tree this way once more!” The two men set about their task gladly, busying themselves with the horses and the ropes. John and Solomon looked mightily relieved to be free of the two animals, and Henry felt his heart soaring at their sudden turn of fortune. Until John told him the names of the two beasts and the definite instruction that under no circumstances should the horses be ridden. Henry looked at the two of them and thought that there was not much danger of that happening.
Across the clearing Henry could see that Satan’s Arse almost seemed glad to be being attached to a seventy foot Oak tree that was about to collapse, whilst Nob almost seemed to be grinning to himself. He drew John and Solomon towards him. “Satan’s Arse?” he whispered. What kind of name for a horse is that?” Solomon and John just shrugged and they moved out of their huddle. A thought came into Henry’s head and he beckoned them back in again. “Don’t tell the scribe” he said, and all three of them nodded.
With Erasmus continuing to cling to the trunk of the tree high above them the two horses took up the slack and slowly but surely began to exert their strength on the tree. Henry watched, his heart in his mouth, and time seemed to slow about him. The clearing went quiet. Even the picnics stopped. It seemed to Henry that all that could be heard was the scribble of the scribe’s pen, his assistant holding up a small box of ink for his pen from time to time.
Slowly the tree began to return to its upright position. “Erasmus!” yelled Henry, “Keep very, very still” and from high above he heard Erasmus reply “Right-oh, master Bracebridge!” and several of his helpers were keeping a very close eye on the trunk, and in particular the huge cut in the base of the tree for anything untoward. Then, finally, the tree was back to where it was before. Still the horses continued to pull, attempting to sway the mighty Oak to fall in the opposite direction to its huge wound in its base. Away from the church. The tree was now completely upright. But no further. Despite the horses pounding at the ground below them, the tree failed to move any further at all. Henry stared at the two horses and considered whipping them to increase their efforts. Then he looked at Satan’s Arse, who, as if reading his thoughts gave him a look that seemed to dare him to even consider such a plan. Behind him, Nob continued to pull at the rope, obviously giving it his all, but at the same time, oddly smiling to himself.
Henry drew his friends about him to consider his options. They recognised that the tree did not seem to be wanting to move any further in the direction it needed to move in, and Cuthbert voiced the opinion that additional horses would almost certainly make no more difference, even if they knew where to procure them. Tobias stated that they also needed to get Erasmus down from the tree altogether but they all concurred that they were not sure if it was safe for him to move in any direction, given the precarious position of the Oak. “What is stopping it?” muttered Barnaby, and Mathias's face suddenly lit up. “What is it?” asked Henry, and Mathias turned to the trunk nodding. “What a fool are we?” he murmured and Henry spun him around by his shoulder. “What?” he roared, “Speak, man?” Mathias took a step towards the tree and then considered ill of proceeding any further. “It is the man in the oak!” he exclaimed, and a murmur ran through the villagers gathered around the clearing. Several of them crossed themselves. “We need to ask the man in the oak to leave.” Henry sighed. He had little time for such nonsense, but nevertheless, he was desperate to try anything.
“Well then, we shall just ask it to leave then” he spat, and turned to head towards the tree once more. “No!!” yelled Mathias, it must be done properly or he will never leave. Believe you me. We need someone who knows the way of it.”
Sighing, Henry turned to Barnaby Gerville. “Barnaby,” he said, “Go fetch Mother Alice.”
V
~ In which Mother Alice creates a stir, another acorn falls and Henry makes a surprising observation ~
Barnaby was surprised when he knocked at Mother Alice’s home to find that she was already ready, stick at her side and adorned with her cloak and hat. Barnaby made to explain what was happening but Alice dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “I will surely be along shortly.” she announced, “Then I’ll find out for myself what is what.” and sent Barnaby on his way. It was only when Barnaby was half way back down the lane that he realised that he had not told Mother Alice where to go, and he considered turning back to tell her, but thought better of
it. It was Mother Alice, after all!
Nevertheless it would be an hour or so before Alice arrived at the church yard, during which time Henry continued to pace back and forth in the clearing, one nervous eye always on the now upright tree. Barnaby had told Henry of course that Alice had already been ready when he arrived to request her help, and yet he did not wonder at all why, if she had known earlier (by whatever means he could not guess) what was happening she did not set out earlier. Time was of the essence here, of course! He did not wonder this at all because he already knew the answer. Alice liked to make an entrance, and with most of the village here by now it was just too good an opportunity for her to miss.
Henry was mid-way through one of his pacing sessions when Alice appeared on the edge of the clearing. He paused to consider her disposition. To Henry, Alice always looked as if something just a moment or so earlier had caused her great displeasure, and she was slowly (very slowly, he thought) getting over it. Slowly the stooped figure made her way towards where Henry stood, casually eying the crowd, taking in all that was happening about her. “Is that you, Benedict Osillbury?” she suddenly said, turning to one of the crowds behind her. A nervous looking man of middle age bowed to her and stuttered, “Yes, Mother Alice.” Alice frowned, and pointed at him. “Still waiting for you to fix that hole in my eaves” she said, if anything her frown increasing again. “Shame on you, leaving a poor old woman such as I with the wind blowing through her roof.” Benedict looked at best severely chastised, at worst completely terrified. “I apologise, Mother” he stammered, “I have been terribly busy. I shall be there tomorrow to give it my full attention.” Alice turned away from him, the single tooth in her mouth moving up and down slowly, as if talking to herself. Henry was not sure if she was whispering or laughing. “See that you do” she said, “See that you do.” and her attention turned to a younger woman sat on the other side of the clearing.
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