by John Buchan
IV
I had business on hand which would not wait. By seven, Jobson, who hadbeen sent for, was waiting for me in the library. I knew by his grimface that here I had a very good substitute for a prophet of the Lord.
"You were right," I said. "I have read the 11th chapter of Ist Kings,and I have spent such a night as I pray God I shall never spend again.
"I thought you would," he replied. "I've had the same experiencemyself."
"The Grove?" I said.
"Ay, the wud," was the answer in broad Scots.
I wanted to see how much he understood. "Mr. Lawson's family is fromthe Scottish Border?"
"Ay. I understand they come off Borthwick Water side," he replied, butI saw by his eyes that he knew what I meant.
"Mr. Lawson is my oldest friend," I went on, "and I am going to takemeasures to cure him. For what I am going to do I take the soleresponsibility. I will make that plain to your master. But if I am tosucceed I want your help. Will you give it me? It sounds like madnessand you are a sensible man and may like to keep out of it. I leave itto your discretion."
Jobson looked me straight in the face. "Have no fear for me," he said;"there is an unholy thing in that place, and if I have the strength inme I will destroy it. He has been a good master to me, and, forbye Iam a believing Christian. So say on, sir."
There was no mistaking the air. I had found my Tishbite.
"I want men," I said, "--as many as we can get."
Jobson mused. "The Kaffirs will no' gang near the place, but there'ssome thirty white men on the tobacco farm. They'll do your will, ifyou give them an indemnity in writing."
"Good," said I. "Then we will take our instructions from the onlyauthority which meets the case. We will follow the example of KingJosiah. I turned up the 23rd chapter of end Kings, and read--
"And the high places that were before Jerusalem, which were on theright hand of the Mount of Corruption, which Solomon the king of Israelhad builded for Ashtaroth the abomination of the Zidonians ... did theking defile.
"And he brake in Pieces the images, and cut down the groves, andfilled their places with the bones of men....'
"Moreover the altar that was at Beth-el, and the high place whichJeroboam the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin, had made, both thataltar and the high place he brake down, and burned the high place, andstamped it small to powder, and burned the grove."
Jobson nodded. "It'll need dinnymite. But I've plenty of yon down atthe workshops. I'll be off to collect the lads."
Before nine the men had assembled at Jobson's house. They were a hardylot of young farmers from home, who took their instructions docilelyfrom the masterful factor. On my orders they had brought theirshotguns. We armed them with spades and woodmen's axes, and one manwheeled some coils of rope in a handcart.
In the clear, windless air of morning the Grove, set amid its lawns,looked too innocent and exquisite for ill. I had a pang of regret thata thing so fair should suffer; nay, if I had come alone, I think Imight have repented. But the men were there, and the grim-faced Jobsonwas waiting for orders. I placed the guns, and sent beaters to the farside. I told them that every dove must be shot.
It was only a small flock, and we killed fifteen at the first drive.The poor birds flew over the glen to another spinney, but we broughtthem back over the guns and seven fell. Four more were got in thetrees, and the last I killed myself with a long shot. In half an hourthere was a pile of little green bodies on the sward.
Then we went to work to cut down the trees. The slim stems were aneasy task to a good woodman, and one after another they toppled to theground. And meantime, as I watched, I became conscious of a strangeemotion.
It was as if someone were pleading with me. A gentle voice, notthreatening, but pleading--something too fine for the sensual ear, buttouching inner chords of the spirit. So tenuous it was and distantthat I could think of no personality behind it. Rather it was theviewless, bodiless grace of this delectable vale, some old exquisitedivinity of the groves. There was the heart of all sorrow in it, andthe soul of all loveliness. It seemed a woman's voice, some lost ladywho had brought nothing but goodness unrepaid to the world. And whatthe voice told me was that I was destroying her last shelter.
That was the pathos of it--the voice was homeless. As the axes flashedin the sunlight and the wood grew thin, that gentle spirit was pleadingwith me for mercy and a brief respite. It seemed to be telling of aworld for centuries grown coarse and pitiless, of long sad wanderings,of hardly-won shelter, and a peace which was the little all she soughtfrom men. There was nothing terrible in it. No thought ofwrong-doing. The spell, which to Semitic blood held the mystery ofevil, was to me, of the Northern race, only delicate and rare andbeautiful. Jobson and the rest did not feel it, I with my finer sensescaught nothing but the hopeless sadness of it. That which had stirredthe passion in Lawson was only wringing my heart. It was almost toopitiful to bear. As the trees crashed down and the men wiped the sweatfrom their brows, I seemed to myself like the murderer of fair womenand innocent children. I remember that the tears were running over mycheeks. More than once I opened my mouth to countermand the work, butthe face of Jobson, that grim Tishbite, held me back.
I knew now what gave the Prophets of the Lord their mastery, and I knewalso why the people sometimes stoned them.
The last tree fell, and the little tower stood like a ravished shrine,stripped of all defence against the world. I heard Jobson's voicespeaking. "We'd better blast that stane thing now. We'll trench onfour sides and lay the dinnymite. Ye're no' looking weel, sir. Ye'dbetter go and sit down on the braeface."
I went up the hillside and lay down. Below me, in the waste of shorntrunks, men were running about, and I saw the mining begin. It allseemed like an aimless dream in which I had no part. The voice of thathomeless goddess was still pleading. It was the innocence of it thattortured me Even so must a merciful Inquisitor have suffered from theplea of some fair girl with the aureole of death on her hair. I knew Iwas killing rare and unrecoverable beauty. As I sat dazed andheartsick, the whole loveliness of Nature seemed to plead for itsdivinity. The sun in the heavens, the mellow lines of upland, the bluemystery of the far plains, were all part of that soft voice. I feltbitter scorn for myself. I was guilty of blood; nay, I was guilty ofthe sin against light which knows no forgiveness. I was murderinginnocent gentleness--and there would be no peace on earth for me. YetI sat helpless. The power of a sterner will constrained me. And allthe while the voice was growing fainter and dying away into unutterablesorrow.
Suddenly a great flame sprang to heaven, and a pall of smoke. I heardmen crying out, and fragments of stone fell around the ruins of thegrove. When the air cleared, the little tower had gone out of sight.
The voice had ceased and there seemed to me to be a bereaved silence inthe world. The shock moved me to my feet, and I ran down the slope towhere Jobson stood rubbing his eyes.
"That's done the job. Now we maun get up the tree roots. We've notime to howk. We'll just blast the feck o' them."
The work of destruction went on, but I was coming back to my senses. Iforced myself to be practical and reasonable. I thought of the night'sexperience and Lawson's haggard eyes, and I screwed myself into adetermination to see the thing through. I had done the deed; it was mybusiness to make it complete. A text in Jeremiah came into my head:
"Their children remember their altars and their groves by the greentrees upon the high hills."
I would see to it that this grove should be utterly forgotten.
We blasted the tree-roots, and, yolking oxen, dragged the debris into agreat heap. Then the men set to work with their spades, and roughlylevelled the ground. I was getting back to my old self, and Jobson'sspirit was becoming mine.
"There is one thing more," I told him "Get ready a couple of ploughs.We will improve upon King Josiah." My brain was a medley of Scriptureprecedents, and I was determined that n
o safeguard should be wanting.
We yoked the oxen again and drove the ploughs over the site of thegrove. It was rough ploughing, for the place was thick with bits ofstone from the tower, but the slow Afrikaner oxen plodded on, andsometime in the afternoon the work was finished. Then I sent down tothe farm for bags of rock-salt, such as they use for cattle. Jobsonand I took a sack apiece, and walked up and down the furrows, sowingthem with salt.
The last act was to set fire to the pile of tree trunks. They burnedwell, and on the top we flung the bodies of the green doves. The birdsof Ashtaroth had an honourable pyre.
Then I dismissed the much-perplexed men, and gravely shook hands withJobson. Black with dust and smoke I went back to the house, where Ibade Travers pack my bags and order the motor. I found Lawson'sservant, and heard from him that his master was sleeping peacefully. Igave him some directions, and then went to wash and change.
Before I left I wrote a line to Lawson. I began by transcribing theverses from the 23rd chapter of 2nd Kings. I told him what I had done,and my reason. "I take the whole responsibility upon myself," Iwrote. "No man in the place had anything to do with it but me. Iacted as I did for the sake of our old friendship, and you will believeit was no easy task for me. I hope you will understand. Whenever youare able to see me send me word, and I will come back and settle withyou. But I think you will realise that I have saved your soul."
The afternoon was merging into twilight as I left the house on the roadto Taqui. The great fire, where the Grove had been, was still blazingfiercely, and the smoke made a cloud over the upper glen, and filledall the air with a soft violet haze. I knew that I had done well formy friend, and that he would come to his senses and be grateful. Mymind was at ease on that score, and in something like comfort I facedthe future. But as the car reached the ridge I looked back to the valeI had outraged. The moon was rising and silvering the smoke, andthrough the gaps I could see the tongues of fire. Somehow, I know notwhy, the lake, the stream, the garden-coverts, even the green slopes ofhill, wore an air of loneliness and desecration. And then my heartachereturned, and I knew that I had driven something lovely and adorablefrom its last refuge on earth.
