The Hollowed Tree

by R. K. Johnstone

  Several burly warthogs, the officers who had followed the entourage inside, jumped at the sound of the Captain's voice and stepped up to surround the group.

  "See here now! What's this?" cried Percy in bothered dismay. "More shenanigans?"

  "Just like it, Lion," said Boston with grave seriousness. He narrowed his eyes and directed their shrewd gaze upon a new and unnoticed entrant to the vestibule. "And if I'm seeing what I think I am, Grits Hamby has his hand in it."

  "Bailiff!" Percy shouted with exasperation. "Vacate these warrants. Stand off from the retinue of Perceival Theodilious!"

  The guards shuffled back a step or two uncertainly and looked at Captain Campbell.

  "Guards, stand to," the Captain ordered severely.

  The guards shuffled obediently back into position over their charges, but continued to look uneasily to the Captain, Madame DeKooncey, and Grits (who had just appeared on the scene), as if for assurance.

  "See here!" the lion roared and made a sudden movement toward the group which portended a less than friendly result. At the commencement of this movement all of the warthogs in the room flinched as if one, and the guards recoiled in fearful alarm.

  Honorashious, who had noticed some moments earlier the appearance upon the scene of Grits Hamby, had been coldly calculating the significance of these new developments, all from the perspective of an experienced litigant. The warthogs were meeting--indeed, showed great promise of exceeding--all expectations. Now, observing the events proceeding to an end of which the consequences, from a strictly legal standpoint, promised to be most disastrous, the owl stepped forth with alacrity to intervene.

  "Haarumph!" he grunted, hobbling and splashing through the overflow with astonishing speed. He hopped into the air and hovered behind the lion's head, flapping his great wings vigorously and shouting in his most authoritative baritone: "Order! Order! Percy, we must maintain order! Haarumph! Haarumph!"

  The lion stopped a few feet from the guards, who had already begun the initial stages of executing a politic retreat. He turned and directed an expression of extreme displeasure upon the owl.

  "And just how much more of this foolishness shall we endure? Is executive privilege of no consequence in this asinine city?"

  "The executive privilege is, of course, honored," the Matron said somewhat stuffily. "We are only lowly bureaucrats. We would never be so bold as to presume an opinion on the application of the executive privilege. As you wish, Perceival Theodilious."

  "That's right," Grits Hamby said, stepping forth into the vestibule. "Go ahead. We'd like to see the monarch exercise his executive privilege. That certainly would establish a useful precedent for future cases in Warthog Court. Nothing better, from a legal standpoint."

  "Precedent, indeed," the lion said, turning away from Grits in disgust. "What is this grizzled buffoon talking about, Owl?"

  "Haarumph!" the owl took a couple of steps forward and deliberately shifted his wings on his shoulders. "The good warden, Grits Hamby, although certainly no authority in the area of--haarumph--court litigation--haarumph--and most definitely unqualified in every respect to exercise proper judicial authority--haarumph--Grits, nevertheless, does represent somewhat accurately a most interesting aspect of this case--haarumph!"

  "Case? Oh no. You don't mean that we're going to accept these ridiculous charges?" Percy moaned.

  "Hold on now, Judge," Boston interjected gravely. The bear's forehead had been wrinkled with worry for some time now, but these latest words of the owl had just increased the severity of his anxiety ten fold. His voice took on a hard edge as he continued: "Don't tell me that you would entertain even for a solitary instant that these warthogs would be allowed to lock us up on these trumped up charges!"

  "The charges, my good bear, are technically accurate," Grits said. "I am completely satisfied that locking up the perpetrators is indeed the appropriate action to take."

  "Grits Hamby, you're in the hip pocket of the Magistrate and everybody knows it," Boston said angrily. "You got no interest in anything but what's going to line your pockets or further your ambitions, so you can just shut up about any appropriate actions, because you ain't got a leg to stand on when it comes to ethics or morals or anything else!"

  Egbert, until now silent if far from uninvolved in the proceedings had nearly choked at the first mention of jail. Now he had regained a small measure of composure, just adequate to squeak in a high-pitched voice of dismay: "They can not send us to jail!"

  "Haarumph! An understandable reaction by all concerned," Honorashious consoled. "Very--haarumph--natural. However," and the owl assumed the most serious of tones, "regrettably--and no matter how arbitrary and unfair it may seem, Egbert--the warden is technically correct in his assertion that--haarumph--the warrant should stand."

  "Ahhhhh!" Egbert gasped involuntarily. "We are lost!"

  "Shet it!" the Sergeant Major shouted in nervous irritation. "Take yer medicine! Show some backbone, ye durned weak-kneed fool!"

  "Haarumph--however, Grits Hamby," the owl said, looking shrewdly at the old boar. "The charge is indeed trumped up--haarumph--upon the slightest of technicalities; namely, the fact that we have not completed--haarumph--haarumph--the proper paperwork enlisting these others as official temporary officers in the service of the Seventh Juridical District!--is it not?"

  "You show a superb grasp of even the most minute details, Honorashious," the warden confirmed.

  "And--haarumph--I suppose, the obvious solution to this problem, namely, to draw up the paperwork after the fact and then back date it, will be vigorously--haarumph--opposed by your institution?"

  "We make no exceptions," Grits said, frowning and shaking his head apologetically." Especially when it comes to the legal procedures of an arrest. Such an act would be most out of order, a most intolerable disruption of due process, indeed."

  "I'll suffer none of these technicalities!" Percy blurted, unable to restrain himself further. "Let them go and let's get on with it. The absurdity of it all goes far beyond anything I could ever imagine. Between this owl and this preposterous warthog Warden, not to mention what appears to be a redundant Matron, this infernal web of entangling litigation threatens to grow so complex that we shall never see the end of it!"

  "Haarumph!" the owl grunted belligerently and thrust out his feathered chest. "The rulings of the court--haarumph--both agreeable and disagreeable, must be upheld! Haarumph! And by no one more than you, Percy!"

  The lion snorted in frustration and shook his great head. He could have superseded any of this red tape, of course, but then he would never hear the end of it from the owl. The thought of the inevitable endless, pompous discourse on this subject, pointing out the wrongness of his actions, was more than he could bear for the sake of maintaining his pride. As for the animals, it wouldn't hurt them to do some time in jail.

  "Take them, then," he said with cynical exasperation. "Go ahead and lock them up!"

  Boston eyed the lion and the owl with disdainful contempt.

  "I never would have thought it," he said, shaking his head with a sigh and chuckling sadly to himself. Then, straightening up on his hind legs so that his head rose above the high counter, he faced the clerk. "Go ahead bailiff. Process us in. Lock us up."

  "No!" Egbert shrieked once and then fell silent, petrified with fear.

  The Sergeant Major, meanwhile, carried away under the influence of these proceedings, had unthinkingly assumed the quite natural role of officer of the court. "Get on up there," he said, prodding the squirrel towards the counter.

  The attitude of the sparrow, who it was evident was safely exempted from arrest, had not gone unnoticed. The two armadillos, Jupe and Agamemnon, from whom the only sounds that could be heard were those sharp swishing ones of the fetid atmosphere being sucked in through their tightly clamped shut snouts, seethed in silent anger. The only avenue by which they could express their emotions lay in their hard, beady black eyes, which for some time now they had been rolling angri
ly at the lion and the owl. Now, on hearing the sparrow speak up, enraged by the treachery of his participation in the proceedings, Jupe bucked, plopping the bird unceremoniously into the overflow.

  "Aaaaaaaawwwk!" the sparrow yelled as he landed in the overflow and began to flap and splash his wings. "Ye durned reprobate!," he sputtered. He flapped and struggled awkwardly in the mess to make his way over to a bannister which rose out of the liquid. "Throw 'em in the hoosegow! Throw 'em all in, 's where they belong," he muttered as he climbed up on the bannister.

  "Haarumph!" the owl grunted. Ignoring this disturbance, he addressed the two supervisors of the penal institution in his most official and solemn voice. "We will, of course--haarumph--require an immediate, full hearing on the case which brought us here in the first place--haarumph--and, now, on this trumped up one as well--haarumph--haarumph."

  Grits swung his great snout to the side and, as he listened, eyed the owl with low cunning.

  "The hearing on both of these cases could take several weeks before it comes up," he said.

  "Unsatisfactory!" roared Percy.

  "Haarumph!" The great horned owl lifted his claws and shook them in agitation. "We will not wait! Haarumph! We are conducting a business of the utmost urgency and import to the--haarumph--entire jungle, and must hold these hearings immediately! Haarumph! We will see the Magistrate and have the court date advanced! Haarumph!"

  Grits and Madame DeKooncey exchanged meaningful glances.

  "In the meantime--haarumph--haarumph" the owl continued, maintaining his momentum, "the Seventh Juridical shall take advantage of this opportunity to conduct an inspection of the facilities! Haarumph!"

  Madame DeKooncey, as was mentioned previously, had steeled herself for just such an occurrence; yet, now that the inevitable had arrived, her heart sank in dismay. She looked at Grits, who frowned and shook his snout.

  "No," he said firmly. "No, I don't think so."

  "Haarumph!"

  "The overflow is evident," the Matron argued. "There is no point in inspecting us under these conditions."

  "Yet," the owl said, pausing to raise a wing and shake it in an authoritative manner at the two warthogs. "Yet--haarumph--we may observe all of the practices of your system of justice illustrated, so to speak--indeed, the whole sum and end result of Hawg City society--here, stored away like the products of some factory in a warehouse. A thorough inspection of the facilities would be most--haarumph--informative and enlightening for Perceival Theodilious Reinsgold the Eighth, as well as for the Seventh Juridical--haarumph."

  Grits grimaced with irritation.

  "I suppose you want to see the Modifier too?" he said, looking from the lion to the owl.

  "Most certainly, the Modifier," Percy said. Having forgotten for the moment his previous frustrations, he pricked up his ears with interest. "This archaic practice of corporal punishment is of the highest interest. We are most eager to view its implementation."

  "Well," Grits said with a grudging shrug of the shoulders. "We're at the command of the monarch, not to mention the Seventh." Suddenly, he had become accommodating. "Whatever it is you wish, Madame DeKooncey will most happily provide you."

  Madame DeKooncey sighed with resignation.

  "As you wish," she said. "Bailiff, have you finished processing these prisoners?"

  Boston turned and encompassed the warthogs as well as the lion and the owl in the same wry look.

  "We're just about processed in, ma'am," he said sardonically.

  The bailiff nodded as he stamped the forms and said shortly to the guards: "One-A-five for the bear, one-A-6 for the squirrel and the armadillos. Take them away."

  "Now just a minute," the bear said as the guards moved to his side. "You can't put us in a cell full of this stuff." He lifted a dripping paw from the overflow.

  The Matron looked at the Bailiff. This individual shrugged.

  "First floor," he said.

  "Haarumph! Tut, tut, now, you'll be all right," Honorashious said consolingly. "The armadillos and Egbert will need something to stand on," he said to the Matron.

  "See to it," she said to the guards.

  The bear clamped his mouth tightly shut and turned away, his visage as hard as granite. "Thanks judge," he said with heavy, sarcastic irony through pinched lips while staring straight ahead. "'ppreciate it."

  Without anymore discussion the group was led by the warthog guards from the room. As they departed the armadillos cast angry glances at Percy and Honorashious, who watched the procession with seeming unconcern, their attention now preoccupied with other high matters. Egbert, entirely discomposed and speechless, was trembling like a leaf upon the back of Agamemnon, his eyes opened wide in sheer terror as they were led out.

  "Haarumph!" the owl grunted.

  Grits Hamby snorted with satisfaction. Having obtained his objective, with a nod of the head to all he excused himself with the self-effacing remark that he was only a figure head and the Matron would lead them on the inspection. Then, he hurried from the vestibule Captain Campbell following closely behind and inclining his head slightly at the distinguished visitors in passing.

  Percy turned to the Matron:

  "Madame?"

  Taking a deep breath, Madame DeKooncey stepped graciously aside and with a gesture indicated to the lion and the owl the way to commence the inspection.

  27. Bartruff Receives a Visitor

  Once the commotion in the vestibule to the jail had quieted a lone warthog entered and approached the duty constable at his desk. This functionary regarded the new visitor with a look of unapproachable boredom. The newcomer reflected in his countenance a state of unease, of which the constable had great experience and was only too ready to take advantage.

  "What can I hep you with?" he asked dully.

  On being directly addressed the visitor started, as if he were surprised that anyone should remark his presence. Then, as if this were all that he had needed to dispel his sense of disquiet, he looked at the constable and sized him up with confident shrewdness.

  "You can “hep” me with seeing one of your inmates," he said in markedly more forceful tones than the constable had expected. Rising to the occasion, the constable narrowed his eyes and examined the boar more carefully.

  "And who is it that you want to see?"

  "That one that you just locked up."

  "And what might he be to you?"

  "He's my son."

  Reluctantly, with great effort, the constable retrieved a pad of paper from beneath the desk and shoved it over to the newcomer.

  "Fill that out," he said and sat back on his haunches.

  The boar filled in the form with his name and other identifying information as well as his reason for visiting, which he indicated as "Family member. Defense coordination." He handed the form back to the constable, who scanned it over without interest and tossed it on top of a pile of similar forms in a basket. Then he motioned one of the guards over.

  "Take Mr. Swinson here," he said, nodding at the visitor, "up to see that prisoner we just locked up. Cell block two-A-eighteen, Bartruff Swinson."

  The guard nodded and turned to the visitor--our boar, of course, who had followed the group to the jail and waited outside during the previously related proceedings--saying:

  "Come on. Come with me." And then the guard had headed off out of the vestibule through the back door without looking back, as if there were no one following behind. Bort took a deep breath and snorted with irritation, then hastened to follow. They proceeded down a corridor behind the vestibule and then through a barred gate watched over by a guard. The overflow was as deep as ever here, and the guard had perched his rump on a desk top to keep out of it somewhat. He opened the barred gate, nodding his head at the guard as he passed through. They went on to a set of stairs and up to the second floor.

  Here the corridor was narrow and only dimly lit by natural light coming through windows opening at either end. Cells lined both sides of the corridor. The floor was dry
and the two boars stamped their hooves to knock off such of the muck as they could as they proceeded down the corridor in front of the cells. Towards the end of the row of cells the guard came to a halt and looked inside. Then he turned around and faced Bort.

  "Here he is," he said and moved away as if to stand at a discreet distance, though in all reality he stayed more than close enough to catch every whisper that should pass between the two.

  Bort approached the cell somewhat tremulously. Arriving in front of the barred grating which stretched across its front, he peered into the darkness. A great hog lay stretched out on his stomach in a pile of straw on the floor, snoring loudly. With each breath his great curving tusks rose and fell like a gently rolling sea. Sitting on his haunches on the other side of the small cell and appearing very forlorn was Bartruff. As Bort peered inside, his son looked up and sighed miserably.

  "Hullo, Dad."

  "Son," Bort said and without pausing to exchange further amenities, he started right in, adopting an accusatory, coldly reasonable tone: "What are you doing in here?"

  "They're saying it's assault charges, Dad," Bort said defensively. "Non-consensual. It's not even against the law!"

  "Non-consensual assault?" Bort, surprised, turned to the guard. "Non-consensual assault?" In his disturbed state of mind he had not thought to ascertain from the guard earlier the charge upon which his son was incarcerated. He had, understandably, assumed it to be that of hawg hopping, a common enough occurrence among the Hawg City youth of the day. Unresponsive, the guard merely regarded him with a look of impassive disinterest. Bort turned back to his son.