Helga- Out of Hedgelands

by Rick Johnson

  Wood Cows said that they could hear the voices of trees—that the trees talked to them. Many of the Hedgies, especially from the ruling classes, made jokes about the Wood Cows talking to the trees. Wisecracks abounded.

  But, at the same time, everyone, including the High Ones, knew that the Wood Cows were the best carpenters and wood-workers around. Their work was flawless. The wood they used to make tables and chairs was renowned for its quality and beauty. Their workmanship was second to none. They were masters of the woodworking craft.

  “How can you expect a tree to give you its best wood, if you do not ask it for help first?” the Wood Cows said. “First invite the tree to help you, and if it agrees, it will give you its very best wood. Self-sacrifice is a noble, essential part of the order of things, but it cannot be forced or taken—self-sacrifice must be freely given. When it is freely given, it bestows the greatest beauty on its purpose. So it is with trees also. Why do you wonder when the wood has cracks and splits? If you treat the tree rudely, this is what you will always get. Listen to the trees and see what beauty lies within them, then invite them to help you. Beauty awaits in that direction only.” These simple-minded Wood Cow ‘superstitions’ filled generations of High Ones with fury.

  No one knew exactly what the Wood Cows heard when they listened to the trees. “If you have a heart for the trees, and treat them as your friend, they will speak in your ear like a clanging bell!” the Wood Cows said. But such ideas created controversy in Hedgelands. The High Ones did not like to hear such things.

  “The Sky Elk say that the stars speak to them in the voice of the Ancient Heroes, could it not be that the Wood Cows can also hear the voice of the trees?” whispered some in the Hedgelands. The High One did not tolerate such ideas. To allow such thought would undo the entire order of things. All the highest and best gifts came from above, never from the lower realms. As Fropperdaft VIII considered the case of the rebellious Wood Cow, he saw that it was not just a single case of foolish rebellion that had to be addressed. The entire life and society of the Wood Cows was a threat to the Hedgelands. “Yes,” Fropperdaft said to himself as he contemplated what he would do, “this is not a problem of just one simpleton Wood Cow...the whole worthless lot of them are lazy, superstitious troublemakers.”

  Respect for the trees prevented the Wood Cows from participating in community activities such as the annual Willow Bonfire that gave honor to the High One on his birthday. Nor did they participate in the ‘sacred climb’—believing it to be injustice in the service of tyranny. Their insistence on inviting the trees to work with them in making a table or chair meant that sometimes it took days for a Wood Cow carpenter to hear a response from a tree. This greatly slowed down any project they did. “Bah, Sharant!” Fropperdaft spat out the curse. “How dare they suggest that trees—the lowest of the low—have voices! They wish us to believe that trees can speak! Bah, Sharant! It will not be tolerated!”

  The High One feared that Wood Cow ideas would ultimately lead to great trouble. “It is unthinkable! The only voice from the Unspeaking Realm is from the Mountain Tops. And the only voice from the Mountain Tops is that of the High One. It can be no other way.” The suggestion that the Wood Cows heard other voices from the Unspeaking Realm infuriated the High Ones throughout the long ages of the dynasty. As a result, the Keepers of the Light taught the Hedgies to regard Wood Cows as evil troublemakers.

  Ages-old condemnation of the Wood Cows effectively made them social outcasts. Denied all rights to own property within Hedgeland towns, the Wood Cows went off by themselves to live in settlements around O’Fallon’s Bluff. There they engaged in woodcrafts in the traditional manner, earning a meager living—they could do nothing else. Ostracized and set apart, for long ages this had been sufficient to the High Ones’ purpose. Over the generations, myth and ignorance led to prejudices that turned the Hedgelanders more and more against the Wood Cows. They could neither buy, nor sell, goods at a fair price. Having no rights in Hedgeland society, the Wood Cows carried on their simple life virtually unseen and uncared about by the Hedgies.

  But all this changed with the attack by the rebellious Wood Cow. They had always been accused of being troublemakers, but they had never actually created any trouble. The successful attack and escape of the rebel, however, changed that.

  Thus, on that fateful Clear Water’s Day which had such significance for Helga’s story, the long-held prejudice against the Wood Cows brought an event that would forever change the history, not just of the Wood Cows, but also of the Hedgeland itself, and have grave implications for other creatures yet unknown to them.

  The Wood Cows Expelled

  On that day so fateful for Helga’s story, just before sunrise Messenger Jays set out from their post atop the Desperate Ridges. Each carried a proclamation scroll to be delivered to Keepers of the Light in the far-flung hamlets and villages of the Hedgelands. Bad Bone watched them scattering to the different directions as he prepared to return home. His preparations included exhorting the group of dispirited Worthies he had discovered behind the Llanhogger Inn. He had decided to lead them away from the Jay settlement. The rag-tag collection of creatures gathered around him, chattering excitedly. At last they were leaving the Jays.

  As the cries of the departing Messenger Jays—“Ya! Ya! Ya!”—died away, Bad Bone gave one last look at the Jay settlement and, taking a deep breath, climbed over the ledge and began his descent. Calling instructions to those following him, within half an hour he had guided the rest of his band over the edge as well. Bad Bone took deep pride in fulfilling his mission faithfully. Yet his deepest satisfaction was in knowing what he had overcome to do so. He was grateful to leave the Jays behind and had much to think about as he returned from his mission.

  Speeding swiftly to all corners of the Hedgelands, the Messenger Jays delivered the High One’s decree. In each and every Hedgie hamlet and village, the High One’s original proclamation was destroyed by the Keepers of the Light and replaced with the new message.

  When Clear Water’s Day arrived, the High Seat in every hamlet and village crackled with an unusual, anxious energy. Each Hedgie had heard the rumors about the High One’s annual proclamation. In the light of the unprecedented rebellion, what would His Highness say?

  A deep hush fell over Hedgies as the royal proclamation was read:

  Greetings to thee, all!

  The Hedge stands fast upon the dangers of beyond;

  it opens not to the West; it opens not to the East;

  it opens not to the South; it opens not to the North,

  it opens not to any who would enter our land.

  The Hedge opens only at the command

  of the First One and the Last One;

  it opens for him the foul-smelling Wood Cow;

  it opens for her the lazy Wood Cow;

  it opens for the Wood Cows who defy the High One,

  who speaks for the First One and the Last One.

  The High One, by whose wisdom

  the good live and the unworthy die,

  provides three First Touch Days

  for the Wood Cows to leave our lands.

  By the First One and the Last One,

  who alone is without equal, I decree this shall be

  a means of purifying our lands and people.

  Death to anyone who aids the Wood Cows as they flee!

  The Forever End was to be opened! The Wood Cows were expelled from the Hedgelands!

  So far as anyone knew, no creature—except for the High One’s own favored traders—had been beyond the Hedge in over a thousand years. Even the rivers that flowed through the Hedgelands passed through gates that barred entry by any creature. Now there would be an opening made in the Hedge!

  Helga and Breister, with the other Wood Cows, listened to the reading of the proclamation from a dark and dusty cellar of the High Seat where they sat on the floor. Symbolic of their place at the absolute bottom of the Hedgeland order, Wood Cows were not permitted to sit with
the other Hedgies. Being confined to the cellar, however, with sound filtering down faintly through vents, had the benefit of allowing them to comment on the ridiculous things they heard.

  “‘Death to anyone who aids the Wood Cows as they flee!’ the High One says,” snorted Helga. “Wood Cows would never run away from such a tyrant as the High One! We are not cowards! We are peace-loving and law-abiding creatures. We will obey this decree, as unjust and foolish as it is. But we obey without any idea of scurrying away in panic!”

  “Aye, that is our way,” her father agreed. “If we leave, we go peacefully with the will to make a new life in a new land. We go toward a new day. Let the High One and his ignorant kind hold to the old day, as they will. We go forward with our heads held high!”

  Bad Bone Bound for Glory

  The descent from the Desperate Ridges took Bad Bone longer than he expected. He arrived at his home village just as the festivities of Clear Water’s Day were drawing to a close. Conducting the group of furred creatures on the difficult route had been slow going. He was shocked to see how much the creatures he led had been degraded by their experience with the Jays. What had once been some of the foremost climbers and adventurers of the Hedgelands were now a bedraggled band of ‘scramblers and shriekers’ as Bad Bone saw them, scarcely able to move without fear.

  He had to constantly shout encouragement to one or another that had suddenly frozen up with fright. “Come on, my stout hearts! There’s Salamander Nuggets and Squint Buns a-waiting! There’s dancin’ and hollerin’ in the streets! Frog’s Belch Ale for all if we make it back before Clear Water’s Day is over!” Little by little, the tiny band made its way down.

  Leading the ragged band into the village square, Bad Bone did not expect much of a reception. For him, it was simply another mission completed successfully. But for the families of the furred creatures he had rescued, he was a hero.

  Grateful families of the long-lost creatures flocked to meet the new arrivals. Joyful mothers, fathers, siblings and neighbors raised their tankards and mugs to celebrate the return of their loved ones. Surrounded by good company and as happy as could be, Bad Bone abandoned himself to enjoying the fun. Not sparing the Salamander Nuggets and Frog’s Belch Ale, he was especially touched when a wee little Lynx, happy to have her older brother returned, offered him her Squint Bun. Bad Bone was very happy.

  The festivities went on and on, ever more raucous and spirited. One creature after another offered a toast to Bad Bone’s health in honor of a rescued loved-one. Frog’s Belch Ale flowed faster and faster. “Here’s to Bad Bone, liberator of my own dear Thudwit!” a Fox yelled, raising his mug high. “And here’s another for Smidtoker, my long-lost son!” an Otter cried. “Hurrah for Bad Bone!”

  Wild singing broke out, with the entire crowd wailing half-tangled verses of a ballad they made up:

  Ho-ho, have you heard the news, me Hedgie?

  Bad Bone is bound for glory,

  Ho-ho, hug him and rock him and bowl him over,

  Bad Bone is bound for glory,

  Ho-ho, one more day and the High One’s a-callin’

  Bad Bone will be a glory story, glory story—

  Bad Bone will be a glory story.

  Completely lost in the frenzied celebration, Bad Bone was taken with the sloshing of ale, until something distracted his attention for a moment.

  He glimpsed a familiar Wood Cow and her father passing down a side alley just to his left.

  “Helga!” Bad Bone shouted after the old friend who had once made him his fine wooden longbow. “Helga! Wait!”

  “Hush, old scout!” a Goat standing near Bad Bone muttered, emphasizing the comment with a sharp jab in Bad Bone’s ribs. “You don’t dare acknowledge the expelled ones.”

  Until that moment, Bad Bone had not known the content of the proclamation scrolls he carried to the Messenger Jays for delivery. The High One’s decree was known only to the Keepers of the Light until it was made public on Clear Water’s Day. Bad Bone had not returned in time to hear it read.

  “The Wood Cows to be expelled?” Bad Bone asked the Goat. “How can this be? What have they done? Surely the foolishness of one Wood Cow does not condemn the rest to suffer?”

  “Old scout,” the Goat replied in a hoarse whisper, “you dare not raise such questions too loudly. It is dangerous. Let it be good enough to be a hero for rescuing these beasts from the Jays. Let the rest of it be as it will!” The Goat’s harsh look made Bad Bone grow quiet.

  The sudden feelings of shame and sorrow he felt were lost on the Goat and the rest of the happy revelers. Bad Bone, however, no longer joined in the joyful partying with the same gusto as before.

  Looking over the ragged band he had liberated, Bad Bone was dismayed. “How is the treatment of the furred beasts by the Messenger Jays different from what is being done to the Wood Cows?” he wondered. As Bad Bone accepted thanks from those around him, his horror at having participated so significantly in a deep wrong against his old friend could not be easily shaken off. Feeling small and weak, as if his great strength was ebbing away, Bad Bone walked slowly away from the revelry, wanting to pour out his tears in private.

  Last Night at O’Fallon’s Bluff

  Swish-luckt...swish-luckt...The unmistakable footsteps on the stone walk outside her cottage made Helga jump for the door. Even before the visitor knocked, she had already flung the door open.

  Pulling her friend inside, Helga hurriedly shut the door and turned the lock. “Bad Bone! What are you doing here?” she asked urgently. Her troubled face showed additional signs of worry. “Are you insane? If his High Fropperdaftness knew you were here, your life would not be worth a grain of sand! We are officially declared enemies of the king—anyone who comes near us is in great peril. You should not have come!”

  Bad Bone put a finger to his lips, urging quieter voices. “But you’re still glad I came, aren’t you?” he whispered.

  The smiling, hopeful face of her friend had its affect. “O.K., so I’m glad to see you,” she admitted. “But you are still insane to be here. You might have been seen.”

  “No one saw me,” Bad Bone replied in a low voice. “It’s dark as pitch outside. I kept to the back ways.” He paused and put his arm around her shoulders. “I saw you leaving the High Seat after the decree was read. I called after you, but you didn’t hear me. I have been wanting to come...” his voice trailed off. He looked down at the floor for some seconds, saying nothing more.

  “I had to come,” he continued. “I could not let you leave without telling you how sorry I am about what has happened. I had to be with you and Breister on your last night in the Hedgelands. It’s taken me a long time to get up my courage to come, but I had to see you before you left.”

  “We leave at dawn,” Helga replied. “Papa is in the workshop, packing our tools.” She motioned at the jumble of chests, barrels, and satchels scattered around the room. “You can see we’re mostly ready to leave. We’ve been preparing for departure almost non-stop for weeks. There’s been so much to do.”

  “It’s been so many weeks; you didn’t expect to see me, did you?” Bad Bond asked.

  “I can’t believe anyone would come,” Helga replied. “Especially the High One’s celebrated courier. Your mission to the Jays, and the rescue of those poor beasts, is the talk of the market and taprooms.” Helga gave her friend a kind look full of understanding. “You did as you were asked, not knowing what you were doing,” she said simply.

  Bad Bone could scarcely believe how good those words sounded. “I am not”—the uncertainty lingered in his voice—“an outcast here? I am still welcome at your hearth?”

  “We are all outcasts here,” Helga said grimly. “If you are here, you are marked as an outcast by the High One. Even if you are never officially expelled, in coming here you have chosen to join us in our fate. Because of this, you are forever our friend.” She gave Bad Bone a friendly smile.

  “I brought you some information that may help you,” the L
ynx offered.

  “What is it?” Helga asked.

  “I know some of the High One’s officers,” Bad Bone began. “One of them has got a loose lip—talks more than he should. I learn a few things that most beasts will never know...I’ve heard about safe routes beyond the Hedge.”

  “Come, sit down,” Helga invited warmly. “I will bring you a drink and we can talk a while.”

  Bad Bone sat down on a box, with his back towards a window that opened onto the road in front of the house. The window was slightly ajar to let in the refreshing evening air.

  He had not sat more than a few moments, and his host had barely filled the teakettle with water, when he was startled by the mention of his name. “That traitorous fleabag, Bad Bone...” His skilled sense of his surroundings, long cultivated on dangerous missions, alerted him to the faint comment that disturbed his calm. He lifted his head carefully to peer out of the window. A troop of Skull Buzzards was standing in the road just outside the house.

  “It came from them, no doubt,” he thought. The comment had raised an uneasy sense that the soldiers were looking for him and he strained to hear more.

  The soldiers spoke in low voices, but now and then burst into a muffled laugh. Bad Bone could catch no repetition of his name, nor anything sounding like the words which had attracted his attention.

  He wondered if he had imagined the words altogether, or misheard what had been said. The words, “traitorous fleabag,” however rang in his mind as clearly as if they had been shouted in his ear. Perhaps he had been wrong in thinking his own name was connected with that phrase, but he was confident that he had heard that particular phrase.