Abhiseleka did not speak. He sat down on a stump, and began to stroke a large red and white spotted mushroom. Goldach was just happy to finally be free. He had been shuffled around in shit carts from one dreary building to another. Why couldn’t he just spend all his time in the forest, wandering?
“I believe that’s why we’re here, Goldach. There are reasons you can’t do that nowadays,” said Abhiseleka.
“Oh yeah? What kind of reasons?” He asked. Abhiseleka did not reply, but looked up into the rays of light that penetrated to the forest floor. Goldach came and sat on a stump behind Abhiseleka’s, and watched the other direction. We’re obviously watching for something. He thought.
“Yes, and I don’t know what it is,” replied Abhiseleka. They sat there for what seemed like hours, though no one can reckon time in the Astral world. Then, there was some action. Towards the sunrise there was a commotion of birds. They chirped loudly and were flying in the boys’ direction.
What’s that? Thought Goldach.
That’s what we’ve been waiting for. Thought Abhiseleka. There was a faint sound of dogs barking and hoof beats. Over the horizon, looking into the sun, a man was darting behind trees. He kept his eyes squinted into the sun, watching. He spotted Abhiseleka, and ran towards them. They were now nestled in the roots of an extraordinarily ancient oak tree.
“You’ve got to help me. They’re after me. If they catch me, King John will have me publicly disemboweled after he rapes my entire family in front of my eyes,” he said. Goldach and Abhiseleka looked at each other.
Do you think he’s crazy? Can he see us? Asked Abhiseleka.
“Why, don’t be stupid, you brown dwarf,” he said. “I recognize a gnome when I see one. You’ve got to help me. Take me inside your tree house.”
Goldach spoke up. He had met many types of people in his work at the infirmary, and he knew his type. He was a villager, probably some type of artisan, maybe a cobbler. The common country folk still believed in nature spirits and saw entities. It was just the way things were. The apostles were the gnomes, Mother Nature Virgin Mary, and the Crucified Christ the Green Man, sacrificed each Autumn and resurrected in Spring.
“I believe in the crucified Christ, and I’m not him. Yes, I can see you and that’s why I know you can help me. Please, I’m a simple man, just trying to feed my family,” the man said.
“Why are the King’s men after you? What did you do?” Asked Abhiseleka. The man got a squinty look in his eyes.
“You’re pulling at my leg, surely. You know what I did. What else would I be doing out here in this haunted place? Hunting deer,” he replied. “Now take me into your house or I’m barging in,” he said. He tried to climb into the hollow trunk of the oak tree, and was successful, but it was no house. Still, it hid him rather well. The dogs came first, barking right in Abhiseleka’s face. Goldach laughed as their barks seemed to blow his hair back from his forehead. He wore a grave look. It was the man. The dogs had given him away.
“Of course they gave him away. That’s the whole point. They’re hunting dogs,” he said. Abhiseleka had not heard of such things, though they were happening all around him back in India. He was appalled.
“We have to help this man. Did you hear what they’re going to do to him?” He asked.
“What are you going to do? Say a mantra and make him disappear?” Asked Goldach. Abhiseleka looked one of the dogs right in the eyes. He was still barking and snarling, but he skipped a beat.
“These dogs can see us as well as the man can. They’re just that well trained. We have to get past that training,” said Abhiseleka. At first, Goldach thought Abhiseleka was guessing, but then he got his own idea. Abhiseleka was right, but staring in the dog’s eyes was not helping. Goldach walked up to the alpha male and stuck his hand inside the dog’s chest and felt his heart.
Leave this man alone. Tell the rest. Thought Goldach.
If we don’t deliver him to these people, they will have us killed and eaten. Thought the dog. Goldach removed his hand from the dog’s chest and sat back down where he was, in the roots of the oak tree.
“So, what’s your big idea?” Asked Abhiseleka. Goldach looked up into the tree.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Goldach asked the man.
“My name is Anguish,” He said. Goldach looked at the dogs. The hoofbeats that followed them grew louder. “My blood is on your hands, Druid. You could’ve saved me,” he said. He looked right into Goldach’s eyes. Goldach stared back into his and a strange thing happened. The iris grew, filling the entire socket. It was shiny, like a black metal ball. Images began to appear, of gore and pain, then the King’s men were upon them. They were dressed in Templar Regalia, bearing their red crossed standard. They stopped the horses behind the dogs and looked at the tree. Goldach and Abhiseleka were terrified. The horses hooves were within inches of their faces.
The men looked at the tree.
“Well, he has not climbed the tree,” said the leader, who’s name was John Marshall. “I reckon he must be within it’s hollow trunk.” He reached over to it with his lance and struck the tree. “I summon you in the name of King John and his majesty’s court to exit that tree immediately, or suffer the consequences,” he said.
The men looked at John, and then to the tree and back again. Not a sound emerged from the tree. The dogs had ceased barking upon orders from their caretaker, and the man, supposedly named Anguish, was holding his breath. He was reciting within his mind an old Gaelic charm for protection. Over and over, he repeated the phrase, Is álainn é an saol. It means “Life is beautiful,” in Gaelic. It was addressed to the Goddess Brigid, who had never failed him until now.
“Retrieve the thief,” said John Marshall. Two grizzled looking men dismounted and found the hole into which Robert had climbed. They were both too fat to enter. Robert had a much thinner frame than either of them.
“Come on out, you wretched mongrel,” said one of the ogres. He reached up into the hollow and swatted around with his arm, just barely missing Robert’s leg. He was afraid to attempt to enter the hole, lest he get stuck and embarrassed in front of the men. That would literally mean death. He pulled away from the hole. The other ogre didn’t even attempt to examine the hole, content with the other’s assessment.
John Marshall got a gleam in his eye.
“Too much mutton for both of you. It’s best to stay hungry at all times, lest you lose your fighting edge. Here I am, sharing my secrets with you, like so may pearls in pig shit,” he said. he dismounted, and removed his helmet. He wore a light chain mail over his Templar Knight costume. He was thinking about Jerusalem, longing to be there, but stuck running odd jobs for the King, waiting for his moment. He walked down to the ancient oak trees roots and crossed himself as he crossed the threshold. He was in awe of this tree. It must be over a thousand years old. He thought. There was a faint voice emanating from the tree. He leaned his ear towards the sound, and it vanished. It was an incantation of some kind.
Why, this may be a Druid inside this tree. John nearly hit himself in the forehead. Of course it was a Druid. Who else would live within such a magnificent work of Nature? He approached the hole, crossed himself again, and climbed into the tree. A leather clad foot crashed hard into the side of his head. He saw stars, but only stumbled. There was a man perched up higher within this trunk, looking down at him silently. John heard the voice again. It was this man’s incantation. Whatever it meant, John did not know. But it was musical, and beautiful, and John did not have the heart to apprehend the man. Go in peace, and sin no more. Said John Marshall. He then exited the hole.
When he emerged, he kicked one of the dogs. “Stupid dogs,” he said. “Housed within this tree is merely a nest of opossums, a mother with children. “Let’s move on men,” he said. None of three could believe it. Did John Marshall have sympathy for the Druids?
“I don’t think it is sympathy he has,” said Abhiseleka. “It’s a healthy respect and fear.” With that, Goldach held his head a little higher. They watched the troops all turn around and leave they way they came. As they did, the dogs trailed behind the men and horses. They looked back at the boys and apologized. There was a pleading in their eyes, the same question of mercy that the man stuck in the tree had done. Goldach looked at the two dogs with which he and Abhiseleka had made contact. The dogs came running back, unnoticed by the men. They jumped at Goldach, and passed tight through him, landing at the feet of the extremely lucky man who had just finished crawling out of the hollow tree.
They jumped on him and licked him, begging for mercy.
“Now look what you’ve done,” he said, “I’ve stolen the King’s hunting dogs.” He laughed at that, and the irony that these young angels before him had saved him from a fate much worse than death.
“We didn’t really do anything,” said Goldach. “Maybe John Marshall was just having an off day,” he said. The birds had resumed their resounding chorus, and all five of them relaxed just a little more. The man came over to Goldach and held out his hand to him. Goldach extended his, but it passed right through.
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