The Hollowed Tree

by R. K. Johnstone

  When they had entered the avenue they found that it led at its end to an enormous oak, much larger and older than any of the others. Its great gnarled trunk appeared to be at least eight feet in diameter, and many branches, some as much as three feet in diameter, grew nearly horizontal at more or less even intervals around it. The entire area of its branches and foliage at their point of greatest extension formed a circle of no less than 60 feet in diameter. Approximately ten feet above the ground a porch extended around the bole before a wooden door cut in the trunk. On either side of the door a structure of branches and straw and twigs extended along the limbs outward from the bole as well as behind. Some parts of this structure ascended with the branches to greater heights. Here and there, small, window-like holes punctuated the walls.

  In the failing light of dusk the lion proceeded down the center of the grassy avenue towards the great oak. The squirrel followed alongside, scampering easily from tree to tree along the overlapping branches. As they drew nearer to the end, from time to time the lion could see a mottled brown head moving past one of the window-like holes in a wall which ascended from the left side of the door into the tree above. As he watched, a greenish-yellow light appeared in this window.

  "Looks like somebody's up, anyway," Lion said to Squirrel, who had stopped for a moment on a high limb to scrutinize the tree.

  "Yep," the squirrel agreed. "Phosphorous lamp is set. That's Owl all right."

  They approached the tree together on the ground, the squirrel having come down from the canopy in order to traverse this last stretch in company with the big cat. They stopped before the great trunk of the tree, looking up at the porch, which protruded above their heads. Engraved into the tree bole above the door in an ornate lettering was the inscription:

  HARDWOOD HAVEN

  ESTATE AND COURTROOM

  OF

  HONORASHIOUS T. HARDWOOD, OWL, DDL

  SEVENTH JURIDICAL DISTRICT

  At the base of the trunk there was a small hole between two roots. Squirrel stuck his head inside, and then his whole body disappeared. A moment later he came back out the hole.

  "It goes all the way up," he said. "Owl holds court up there for the smaller animals. If they're small enough, ground animals can enter through this passageway."

  The lion sat back on his haunches, considering for a moment. An elegant, gold, braided cord hung nearby, close to the tree trunk. The cord ascended through a small hole in the porch and attached to a bell mounted beside the door. Lion said regally: "You can go on up and announce me, Squirrel." After all, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to establish with the owl through protocol from the very start a clear sense of their relative positions of authority. He had not forgotten the issue broached earlier by Squirrel at the meeting at the stump and fully intended to explore the extent to which Owl was still performing in the capacity of a judge. Though the lion had to admit that Owl was, indeed, possessed of a formidable intellect, the old bird's rulings frequently clashed with his agenda. Worse, on those occasions when Lion took exception to some particularly disagreeable ruling, rather than defer to the king, the contentious and supercilious Owl stood his ground firmly, supported always by the bear in what Lion considered to be shameful--even treacherous--exhibitions of spineless slavishness. So Lion had been relieved when he had heard of Owl's retirement. To find out now that the bird was still hearing cases had been news that was most unwelcome.

  Squirrel quickly climbed the small stairs which had been cut into the tunnel-like passageway inside the bole of the tree. The passageway opened at the top upon a small trap door in the porch floor. A staircase of a few steps spanned the small gap from the tree to the door. Squirrel sprang up these stairs, popped through the floor, and stood before the owl's door. He rang the bell. Always conscious of the figure he cut, he sat back on his tail and composed himself, smoothing the fur on the back of his head with a paw. From inside the tree came only silence for several moments, and Squirrel decided to give the bell a second pull. No sooner had his extended paw grasped the braided cord, however, than a gravelly voice accompanied by some scratching sounds could be heard approaching the door. Squirrel let his paw fall.

  "Durned varmints!" the voice said in extreme vexation. "Who in the Seventh District is it could be ringing the durned bell at this time of the morning, I'd like to know? Ain't even had breakfast, and they're already stand'n at the trunk! Ring'n the durned--Whoa!"

  The door had swung open, and in it there stood a scraggly, irascible sparrow. So great had been the volume and timbre of the voice which preceded the opening of the door, that the appearance of its cause, reaching to a height no less than six and one half inches from the floor, inspired in its enormity no surprise at all. He was a dusty, dirty brown color and his feathers were in a state of complete disarray. Three or four of these stuck out at all angles about his head and over his eyes, accentuating a naturally fierce physiognomy. Various others about his person, on his wings and his back, were ruffled in every direction as if broken. Apparently, the sight of the squirrel, sitting politely on his tail, had elicited his cry of surprise. He had actually jumped back a few inches from the threshold in recoil at the shock of this unexpected sight. Now, however, in light of the unassuming and obviously well-mannered character of this visitor he quickly regained his composure. He narrowed a pair of sharp beady eyes and thrust his head forward, glaring at the squirrel with extreme irritation. At the same time he began to stalk somewhat jerkily in his direction.

  "Can't you see the bell-pull down below?" he said, bearing down upon the squirrel with threatening animosity. "Whyn't you come on in the front door too? Why bother to ring at all? You durned thief! Come sneak'n right up to the very courtroom itself! I ought to flail you 's what I'd ought to do!"

  5. Honorashious Owl

  Squirrel stood his ground before the advancing sparrow, who finally halted only inches away. The bedraggled bird stood glaring fiercely at the squirrel as though poised to set upon him and with his sharp, yellowed beak and scraggly claws to tear him limb from limb.

  This threat of imminent, bodily harm, however, had left the squirrel supremely unshaken. Now he drew himself up to his full height–in so far as that was possible when sitting on his haunches--and with his steady gaze directed a good four inches over the head of the angry bird, he said with haughty dignity:

  "King Perceval Theodilious Reinsgold Lion the Eighth desires before him immediately the presence of Honorashious T. Hardwood Owl."

  "Aaawwk! cried the sparrow, fluttering his wings so rapidly in the state of agitation induced by this announcement that his yellowed claws rose briefly from the board floor of the porch. "Great guns, man! Perceval the Eighth! Why didn' you say so, why--," the sparrow began to stalk erratically about the porch, beside himself with anxiety. "Great gawd! Perceval the--" He stopped in mid-sentence as if stricken with a sudden thought and scurried hastily across the porch to the rail. He looked down over the side. The sight of the lion, sitting calmly below, galvanized his spine and brought him stiffly to attention.

  "Frank Hogshead Smyke Sparrow, Sergeant Major, Retired, Master at Arms of the Seventh Juridical District presided over by Honorashious T. Hardwood Owl, D.D.L., your Majesty," he invoked, and, stepping off with a little hop from the edge of the porch, he fluttered down, landing a few feet in front of Lion where he came again smartly to attention. "At your service," he said, attempting to sound gallant as he made a small bow.

  Lion regarded the bird. "Well, where is he then?" he said with slow skepticism. "You're supposed to go and announce me--not come out here and show off. For crying out loud Squirrel, what's going on?"

  "Jedge ain't home, your Majesty," the sparrow said.

  At that moment a new, feminine voice was heard, emanating from within the tree bole.

  "Sergeant Major? Who's out there? Is that you Percy?"

  Next, the distinct sound of a pair of claws scratching against the boards of the floor announced the emergence and arrival on the porch of the o
wner of this new voice.

  "Madame," Squirrel intoned respectfully.

  "Hah! Egbert! I haven't seen you in so long I hardly recognize you. But where, now, is the Sergeant Major?"

  The sparrow temporarily abandoned his position at attention before the lion and scurried outward from the tree to gain a view of the front door.

  "I am here, Madame, attending to the king!" he cried tersely and hurried back with great alacrity to take up his former position.

  The scratching of the claws was heard again, followed by the appearance above the railing of a great, pie-shaped head. The head perched without a neck upon a breast to which attached a substantial set of wings, folded behind and descending to graceful points above an impressive pair of massive claws. Every feather had been meticulously maintained and was set perfectly in place as if chiseled in stone. Two tufts protruded like ears from the top of the head. The whole, from claws to the tops of the ear-like tufts, rose to a height of more than two feet. A greenish-yellow glow emanated from a glass-paned lantern, which the squirrel, having hopped up meanwhile on the porch railing, held solicitously suspended beside it, illuminating the great head. A pair of eyes peered downward from within two enormous, dark circles.

  "Well, I'm pleased to see you looking so well, Percy," the great horned owl said pleasantly.

  "And I you, Henrietta," Perceval responded with equal, slow grace. "I have been quite impressed with your estate. Honorashious must have been doing pretty well for himself to get set up like this."

  "They're up here all the time still, you know," Henrietta said wearily, "all hours of the night and day. There's nothing Honorashious likes more than arguing and pontificating and telling people what to do--why they are wrong and why he is right. I actually think it's worse now. The Sergeant Major has had all he can do to keep them in line."

  "Hah!" the Sergeant Major blustered with good humor. "No problem whatsoever, Madame! Not with the likes of them there wasn't! Troublemakers every dang'd one of 'em 's what they are!"

  "And with Honorashious here and about all night long now, what with his retirement, they were coming even more, until it just got unbearable." She snorted contemptuously. "He liked it out here on the porch until all hours of the day, holding court. If it's not so bad now, it's only because I convinced him he should go back on patrol. He sure didn't do anything about it himself!" she said vexatiously. "Even so, the animals are still coming around, expecting him to decide their case."

  Ah, yes," Lion said languidly, as if he were interested only in making small talk. "Honorashious is a contentious, individualist, no doubt about it. So, he has been very busy, has he?" he said, raising innocently an inquiring eyebrow.

  "No more than what he's authorized, of course," Henrietta responded sweetly, seeing easily through Lion's veiled inquiry. "But he does seem like he's even busier now than he was before he retired."

  At that moment their discourse was interrupted by the HOOOO of an owl's voice, rich in timbre and at full volume, sounding through the night.

  "I recognize that hoot," the lion said looking in the direction from which the sound came. "Hah! That's Honorashious. Very distinctive!"

  A moment later a dark shape, nearly five feet across, appeared in the direction from which the owl's hooting had come. The shape came towards them, gliding soundlessly through the dark gloom of the forest at an altitude of eight feet or so above the ground. As they watched it, now breaking out of the forest into the cleared area of the great avenue of trees, it emitted another loud HOOOO. A short distance from the tree the bird soared briefly and settled on the perch which had been specially designed for that purpose and erected on a limb in front of the house. The newly arrived great horned owl folded his wings carefully, at the same time extending out to the side and shaking first one great claw and then the other before hopping down onto the walkway.

  "Haarumph," he grunted, seeming to clear his throat as he walked across the limb to the porch where Henrietta and Egbert stood waiting. As he crossed the porch with a dignified, slight waddling movement, he glanced down at Perceval, who was sitting patiently on the ground. "Haarumph," he grunted again and proceeded to the railing. He displayed the morning's catch, a brace of fat rodents, to his wife and at the same time nodded at the squirrel. "Egbert," he said briskly as if he had seen the squirrel only yesterday instead of the six months past which had actually elapsed since their last encounter.

  "Owl," the squirrel returned with equal briskness.

  Honorashious T. Hardwood Owl then looked down at the lion, pausing for a moment before saying brusquely, "Morning, Percy." Then, as if noticing the sparrow for the first time, "Sergeant Major!"

  "Aye Jedge," the Sergeant Major responded.

  "Get up here and fix these rodents!"

  "But--"

  "Don't worry about that durned lion. He's not going anywhere."

  "Aye, Jedge," grumbled the sparrow a bit uncertainly. He looked apologetically at Perceval, who was looking up with annoyance at the owl. Then with great reluctance he relaxed his stance and began to shuffle over to the small entrance between the roots of the tree. "'t ain't right though, if you ask me," he muttered. A damaged wing--the consequence of some military action years past--prevented his flying, though he could descend well enough, fluttering safely down from any height. "I can't say's I agree with it. Percy the Eighth man! Gawd!" he gasped, shaking his head as he entered the passageway. His grumbling and muttering continued and could be heard, muffled by the bole of the tree, as he ascended.

  "Hmm, a good owl's morning I suppose!" Perceval said contemptuously. "The pretension of you owls--changing the day into night and the night into day--it never ceases to amaze me. As if we all go about at night!"

  "Haarumph!" huffed the owl, rustling his wings a bit and retorting contentiously: "Pretentious? My word! I wouldn't say that it was pretentious! Surely you, with all your pretensions of the prerogatives of rank, and all of your bombast, don't presume to lambaste me about pretensions?"

  The muttering of the Sergeant Major announced his reappearance at the top of the passageway. He lamented as he hopped a bit stiffly up the few stairs and popped through the trap door onto the porch: "--'f you ask me what I think about it!" He stalked over and took the two mice, glaring angrily at Honorashious. "'t ain't right, Jedge!" Then he turned and without another word stalked into the house, dragging the rodents by their tails across the floor.

  "My pretensions?" Perceval said with slow incredulity. "You say my pretensions and bombast? Is it me who goes around naming rivers, setting myself up like some sort of a plantation owner? Whoa, come now! I beg to differ, sir!"

  "Hah! I see. How avaricious of me! I suppose I should live in poverty!"

  "I just wonder where you got all of the help to chase everybody off this territory and secure it," Perceval said. "That's all I want to know!"

  "Well, maybe if you would just open up your eyes sometime you would see! Maybe if you would just read your own charter and study the laws of the jungle a little bit, maybe then you wouldn't be so ignorant!"

  "Now see here, Owl, really, that's unfair," Perceval said, becoming really aroused now. "This is no way to be speaking to the king. Especially the court! Even the Sergeant Major is appalled at your behavior."

  "I concede the point, Percy," the owl said with a brief nod of the head, though he was obviously unruffled and unrepentant for his disrespect. "Indeed, no need for friends to quarrel. Especially when we have only just met for the first time in a year or so!"

  "'z ready as it's going to get, Jedge," the Sergeant Major called from inside.

  "You will excuse me?" Honorashious said pompously to the lion and turned to Egbert. "Egbert, you will come inside and breakfast. We have a good store of acorns here and about of which you are welcome to partake." The owl offered an extended wing to his wife. "Madame? Shall we go inside? I'll be back shortly Percy. Perhaps Egbert here can enlighten us on the purpose behind your visit during our breakfast."

  And the
three of them went inside to have breakfast, leaving Perceval Theodilious Reinsgold Lion the Eighth alone outside.

  6. The Court is Engaged

  Abandoned to his own devices, and in darkness no less, Perceival lay down on the ground beneath the tree to await patiently the end of the owl's breakfast. Of course, he could have insisted that the owl postpone his breakfast until the king had finished with him; he preferred, however, to take a less adversarial approach. The old horned owl was not an easy touch by any means. Further aggravating a natural predilection for contention, which had been reinforced by a full career in court litigation, would only hamper the lion's hidden agenda. So he was content to lay calmly beneath the tree, his eyelids lowered to two slits as he took a small cat nap.

  Some time later the squirrel's high-pitched laughter, coming from the porch above, aroused him from his doze.

  "Ha ha ha ha, your Honor, that's the best I've heard yet!" the squirrel chortled. "That is absolutely the funniest story I have ever heard!"

  Several sets of claws could be heard scratching across the floor.

  "Haarumph," grunted the owl with good nature. Seemingly encouraged by Squirrel's fawning compliments, he attempted to make another boisterous start: "And that's not the most outlandish case I've seen of it, either," he huffed. "Henrietta, do you remember the time in the South Savannah–“

  "Oh Honorashious! Puuleeze do not tell that story again!" his wife protested with exaggerated vehemence. "Do not ask me to go through yet another of the inevitable altercations with you over that pernicious story! Ohhh! The interminable arguments we always have over your inaccuracies of fact, misremembered incident, and misrepresentations! I think he enjoys it, Egbert–I really think he does it on purpose just to aggravate me."