Judy: ‘I do not quite understand.’
Mr Tortoise: ‘Perhaps I can help you. Am I right in suggesting that whatever your motive may have been, it was not one of revenge?’
Judy: ‘Oh no – not revenge!’
Mr Tortoise: ‘Nor of hatred?’
Judy: ‘I don’t think it is hatred – though I hate the things he stands for.’
Mr Tortoise: ‘Then would you tell the Court your motive? Is it to bring justice?’
Judy (a little puzzled): ‘I do not know if I would call it Justice. I am not sure if I know what Justice is. I am not sure if anybody knows what Justice is’ (here she turned to Mr Justice Owl) ‘… if His Worship will not think that disrespectful?’
Mr Justice Owl (kindly): ‘Proceed.’
Judy: ‘I think – though I do not wish to take up the time of the Court – I think that my motive is really … love.’
Mr Tortoise: ‘That was what I suspected. But would you please explain a little more fully?’
Judy felt herself blushing; she had never made a speech before, and she did not like to push herself forward. But the things she had to say were very dear to her heart, and perhaps it would not matter if she said them – just once – and then held her peace, for the rest of her life. So she conquered her shyness and spoke as follows:
‘You see –’ and here she turned so that she faced the main body of the crowd – ‘I do love you all, very much. I know I try to sell you things –’ she smiled for a moment, and brushed back her hair, which was tumbling into her eyes – ‘but I’ve tried to sell you nice things, that were good for you, and to make them as cheap as I could. And always, I’ve tried to remember that though … though I’m Human and you are not, we are really all just the same. It’s just … just –’ she paused, for she did not want to offend them – ‘just a matter of education. I’ve been very lucky in mine –’ and here she smiled at her grannie – ‘luckier than some of you, and I’ve tried not to take advantage of it.
‘That was what I meant when I said I hated the things Sam stood for. I’m afraid a lot of Humans stand for those things; they have learned things that you have not learned. They have discovered ways in which they can hurt you and fight you and … kill you, without using their own bodies … mean ways, cunning ways, in which you have no chance at all … and …
She faltered, for she wondered if she was talking nonsense. But Mr Tortoise gave her a smile of encouragement, so she went on:
‘I don’t want you to think that all Humans are like that; there are lots like Grannie and me; and … and I don’t think I could help loving you even if I tried.’
She took a deep breath. But the words she was going to say were never uttered. For at that moment the strange lull in the storm was broken, and the wind hissed over them like a mighty wave, as though the Someone who had been waiting to hear what she had to say, had heard and understood, and was impatient to act, to bring the drama to its final conclusion.
But she could not speak.
And suddenly she felt frightened of the wind; she felt that it was blowing blindly and cruelly; it was a wind of revenge … and in her heart there had not been any thought of revenge. There was not even a trace of bitterness against Sam; it had all melted away while she had been speaking. She knew nothing but a great pity that any boy should have taken to such evil ways.
Panic seized her. What would the animals do to him? They might hang him! And even if they did not hang him, they would shut him up for many years in a dark, cold cave. She could not bear it. She would never feel the same again if she knew that somebody had been hanged, for her sake, or was spending the long years of his youth chained in the dark when he should have been playing in the sunlight.
She beat her hands on the witness-box.
‘No!’ she cried. ‘Please leave him alone!’
Her voice was lost in the howl of the gale.
‘Your Worship!’ she shouted. ‘Listen to me … oh please listen!’
But Mr Justice Owl could not even see her, let alone hear her. As for the animals – if they had noticed her at all they would only have thought that she was calling for help.
Her voice rose to a scream. ‘Your Worship – anybody – Mr Tortoise – please do not hurt him!’
It was hopeless; the words were blown back through her own lips; she could only gulp, and make frantic little signs which nobody understood.
Desperately she looked around her. Was there nobody who could help? In a few moments, PC Monkey would be leading his captive, and once he was in the dock, once the animals had seen him, she was sure that they would never let him go. Judy knew something of the cruelty of crowds – whether they be of animals or of men; a herd of animals will trample down the weakest of their number, just as a mob of men will attack the humble and the sick. We are all much nicer by ourselves than we are in a crowd.
Judy knew all these things by instinct (though she could not have put them into words) and it was for this reason that she was frightened of the mob.
Why, oh why, had she not thought of this before? Why had she let things go so far?
Was there nobody – nobody – who could stop it?
She clasped her hands and looked up at the sky. And as she did so, her heart leapt with excitement. For there was his face again – the face of the Clerk of the Weather – and she knew that he had heard her, and that at last he had understood her true meaning, and that he was going to help.
How long she stood there, gazing up at the sky, no one will ever know; it may have been only a few seconds; but for Judy it seemed that time stood still. None of the others saw him; he was showing his face for Judy alone … and how grand, how awe-inspiring it was! Like a great mountain, with the white clouds streaming over it – a mountain made of mist and rain, that suddenly seemed to smile, with all its crags and valleys twisting and turning in the heavens. Now from out of this gigantic image there came a Voice, borne on the wind …
‘It shall be as you wish, my child.’
One last smile. And then, a change swept over the Face. Dark clouds blew over the giant brow, lightning flashed from the misty eyes, the cheeks swelled and swelled and swelled …
High above the tumult there came a sound of splitting wood and rending timber, and with it the sharp jangle of snapping chains.
A second later a shower of planks and beams hurtled over their heads twisting and tossing as though they had been withered leaves. Then, through the storm, there came one shrill cry – the strangest cry Judy had ever heard, for it was the cry of an animal set free from a trap, and yet, it was a Human cry … the cry of Sam. And even as the cry rang in their ears they saw him lifted high above them, clinging to a plank, tossing and turning like a man in a whirlpool. For a brief second there was a lull and the plank dropped sharply down; then the wind grew madder and madder, rolling him round and round. He was very close to Judy now. He seemed to be trying to say something. She could see his lips moving in a desperate effort to make her hear. And at last she heard. Just the words ‘Thank You!’
It was enough.
She knew she had won. She knew that Sam was saved.
A last gigantic gust that seemed as though it would blow the very earth into space, like a glittering ball of glass, to join the distant stars. The plank swept away, tearing Sam with it … high over the trees, farther, farther … till it was only a black dot in the clouds. At last it was gone.
‘He has escaped from us … he has escaped from us!’
The cry of the angry crowd mingled with the wind.
‘I, too, am glad.’
Judy started. It was the voice of Mr Tortoise, who had come to her side.
‘He has escaped from us, yes. But perhaps he has also escaped from himself. And out there, in the great world, he may be able to begin again.’
But before she could reply there was another cry behind her. She turned and saw her grannie, who was pointing with a trembling finger into the distance.
‘The Tree!’ sh
e wailed. ‘The Tree!’
Judy stared down the glade … and then her heart sank. Far away she could just see the outline of the Tree, and it was drooping slowly to the ground. Branch by branch, limb by limb, like an old, old man who has no longer the strength to meet the storms of the world.
For a moment Judy was stunned by the shock; she could neither move nor speak. Her grannie was sobbing by her side, and saying something, but she could not listen to her. All she heard were the words of Mr Tortoise, and though they were only whispered, they echoed clearly through the storm:
‘It has happened at last,’ he was saying. ‘The Tree is sitting down.’
Had Judy been less dismayed, less bewildered, she might have heard something strange about this voice – for it had in it not the faintest echo of grief; instead it sounded happy. And in his eyes there was a sparkle that was more of laughter than of tears.
But she noticed none of these things. All she knew was that the Tree was in mortal danger, if indeed it was not already dead.
Without another word she ran swiftly from them, into the teeth of the storm.
*
Judy stood by the Tree, panting and staring wildly about her. Far and wide its great limbs were strewn, like a giant taken in battle. The two main branches were stretched at full length, as though they had been flung out in a last passionate entreaty to the gods. The massive trunk was torn and twisted like the body of a wounded soldier. And all around were scattered the goods and chattels of the shop, blown helter-skelter in hopeless confusion.
Judy stared and stared. And gradually she realized that a very strange thing was happening – or rather, that three very strange things were happening.
Firstly, the storm had completely died away. A moment ago, the whole world had been in uproar, and the skies had scowled with angry clouds. Now there was no breath of wind; the leaves hung still as on a midsummer’s eve. Looking up to the sky she saw a patch of blue, that was growing larger and larger and would soon spread all over the heavens. ‘There is magic at work, somewhere,’ thought Judy.
Yet she was not afraid.
Secondly – and even more strangely – she realized that she was quite alone. Nobody had followed her; there was no sign of Mr Tortoise nor of her grannie, nor of PC Monkey. Indeed, there was no sign of any of the animals – no bird stirred in the branches, no insect hopped in the grass, not a bee buzzed among the flowers. For the first time in her life she was in utter solitude.
Yet she was not lonely.
Thirdly, came the strangest thing of all. Here before her lay the wreckage of all her hopes. Her home had gone; all the precious little things which she had gathered with such loving care were scattered beyond recall. She had lost her oldest friend – for the Tree, surely, must be called a friend; and this friend lay torn and dead at her feet, never again to shelter her with his strong arms, nor to whisper to her with his gentle wisdom.
Yet she was not unhappy.
No tears came to her eyes – not a sigh drifted from her lips. Instead, she found that she was smiling quietly to herself. For here there was no sense of destruction or of death; instead, she felt that something had been created, that it was at this very moment springing to life.
But what?
She took a step forward – and then stopped. Was not that the sound of music, far away? She listened intently, holding her breath. But yes – there it was again, faint but clear, now very sweet. It was coming closer. She could hear the sound of flutes and violins and the tinkle of cymbals. They seemed to be playing a sort of serenade, for there was the sound of voices, too, drifting up from the valley, rising and falling, but growing clearer all the while. Who could they be? And what was it they were singing? She strained her ears to catch the words. At first she could not understand them, but after a few moments they came to her distinctly:
‘Time is a flower that will never fade
If you pluck that flower with love,
A bird that will always sing, sweet maid,
If you hark to him with love …
Time is a friend, be not afraid,
For Time was made to love.’
What a sweet song it was! But what did it mean? And why could she not see the singers, though their voices were so close? Were they hiding somewhere behind the trees? That must be it. She would go to greet them.
She took another step forward – and then she stopped again, very sharply indeed.
For she had trodden – not on the grass, but on a carpet!
She stood there motionless, with one foot poised in the air, hardly daring to look down. Then, very gently, inch by inch, she lowered her foot. At last it grazed the ground. Summoning up all her courage, she pressed it firmly down. As she did so she gave a little scream. For it sank deep into the softest carpet she had ever known.
Wide-eyed with astonishment, she looked down. Yes – it was a carpet, rich and bright, glowing in the sunlight, a deep wine-coloured red. Only a little strip of it had been unfolded – a great bundle lay before her. But even as she watched it was slowly unwound by invisible hands, and it rolled and rolled away as though it were inviting her to follow it.
‘This must be a dream,’ thought Judy, ‘but it is such a beautiful dream that I do not mind. I wonder if I dare tread on the carpet or if it will sink under me, and throw me into some dreadful pit?’ But there was such a feeling of happiness everywhere, and the music ran so sweetly, that she forgot her fears and walked along the carpet, which was so warm and silky that it seemed to caress her feet.
And then, once again, she stopped dead, and stared in front of her.
For the carpet had stopped unrolling, and had come to rest at the foot of the shattered trunk of the Tree. That would have been strange enough, in any case, but what was far far stranger was the fact that the trunk slowly seemed to straighten itself, to widen, and to form itself into an arch. The arch grew taller and taller and wider and wider, and as it changed its shape so it changed its colour. Little by little it shed its dull greeny-grey and was tinged with yellow; the yellow spread and deepened, glowed and sparkled … till it was the colour of buttercups, of daffodils, of sheer gold. In fact – it was gold.
And through the arch, waddling awkwardly towards her, came Mr Tortoise.
‘Oh, Mr Tortoise!’ cried Judy. ‘I am so glad you have come!’
He did not answer her, but only stared at her, with the strangest look in his little beady eyes.
‘This is such a lovely dream,’ she went on. ‘And it only needed you to make it perfect!’
He still stared at her. Then he said: ‘Are you sure it is a dream?’
She laughed softly. ‘Of course it is a dream,’ she said. ‘What else could it be … with the music and the arch and the lovely carpet?’
‘Supposing you were to wake up?’
Her face fell. ‘Oh, please, don’t say horrid things like that. I don’t want to wake up.’
‘Never?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Well – that depends. If Grannie could come into the dream, and all my friends, and …’
‘And what?’
‘And you, Mr Tortoise …’
He was looking at her very eagerly.
‘Yes?’
‘Then I don’t think I should ever want to wake up at all.’
‘You think we could be happy together?’
‘I know we could.’
‘That was all I wanted to know.’
‘But why are we talking like this?’ she asked him. ‘Why can’t we just go on dreaming? We might fly like the birds and swim like the fishes and go on listening to the music …’
Mr Tortoise cut her short. ‘I am afraid,’ he said, ‘that we must wake up.’
‘So soon? Oh, please, Mr Tortoise …’ She held out her arms to him, pleading.
‘No, my dear, it has to be.’
She sighed and said nothing.
‘But perhaps you will find …’ He stopped, as though he were searching for words.
&nbs
p; ‘Yes?’
‘Perhaps you will find, when we do wake up, that the reality is better than the dream. People often do – brave people. And I think you are brave.’
‘I wonder.’
‘You will need all your bravery now.’
‘Why – is something going to happen?’
‘It is happening,’ he said. And as he spoke his words seemed to echo and echo, so that the trees caught them up and whispered, ‘it is happening … happening,’ in time to the music. ‘Happening … happening … happening!’
And indeed it was happening. For the most extraordinary change was coming over Mr Tortoise. A moment ago he had been just a little brown blob of a tortoise, framed in a golden arch. But now his shell seemed to be blurred and trembling, like a reflection on the surface of a lake, and it was spreading upwards and outwards, taking to itself a silver sheen. It grew and grew, glistening in the sunlight; the tiny arms unfolded from their casing, the crumpled legs quivered and stood erect; from the withered pointed face the wrinkles fell away; the bald skull shivered and swelled; and with a sudden rush a thick mop of fair hair swept over the little eyes, which opened wider and wider, and gazed at her with adoration.
Before her stood a Prince.
Chapter Nineteen
HAPPY ENDING
‘MR TORTOISE!’ GASPED JUDY. And then … as ‘Mr Tortoise’ was obviously an unsuitable name for the wonderful young man who stood before her … ‘I mean … I mean “Sir”!’
‘Call me John,’ he said gently.
‘Oh, I couldn’t!’ She looked at him with dazzled eyes, marvelling at the golden plumes on his hat and the sparkling rubies on his sword.
‘You’re too … too grand.’
He smiled. ‘You’re not exactly shabby yourself.’
‘Please don’t make fun of me.’
‘I’m not. Look at yourself.’
Judy glanced down and her eyes opened wide with astonishment. Her feet – which a moment ago had been bare – were shod in silver embroidered with emeralds, and she had stockings of cobwebby silk, faintly shot with the palest green. Her dress was of rich velvet, and as she stepped this way and that, marvelling at it, she saw that a hundred shades of green had been woven into its glowing fabric – the green of the sea, the green of shadows under an apple tree, even the green of dark cedars in the moonlight. As a contrast to all this green, the blouse was thickly embroidered with tiny precious stones, in a design of brightly coloured leaves – there must have been thousands of little sapphires and diamonds and aquamarines and fire opals.
The Tree that Sat Down Page 17
