The Hollowed Tree

by R. K. Johnstone

  The owl, meanwhile, grunted and fairly trembled with rage at the sentence. The severity of his agitation was further aggravated by the general chaos and uproar into which the courtroom had fallen. The old bird shouted at the top of his lungs something unintelligible to all but those closest to him. The intended recipient of these shouts was the Magistrate, who leaned towards the owl and, catching the sense of a word or two, began rapping sharply with his hoof to restore order. Now the bailiff dropped his task with the chains to devote his full attention to shouting and gesticulating at the crowd, and the Sergeant Major joined in, hopping up and down upon his twigs of legs before the disrespectful warthogs. Gradually, the crowd settled and finally became quiet. They remained standing.

  With a final rap of his hoof the Magistrate directed an authoritative gaze about the courtroom. He turned to the great horned owl, sulking on his perch.

  "The Seventh Juridical has several opinions to express on the outcome of this case, which will be heard, though not debated, the outcome of any debate being irrelative since the case has already been decided."

  "Haarumph!" the owl grunted and glared combatively at the Magistrate. "Far from irrelative, my good Magistrate! These--haarumph--punishments not only violate the rulings of the Seventh, but they are also a direct provocation--haarumph--and sign of the disrespect shown by the Hawg City judiciary for the rule of the jungle!"

  "I repeat," the Magistrate said stubbornly, "the case is not moot."

  "Haarumph--and I repeat, far from irrelative," the owl countered contentiously. "The details of this case, however, are unimportant--haarumph. We will not appeal. The punishment awarded will be undergone by the individuals--haarumph--without protest."

  This elicited a brief flurry of muffled discussion among the crowd to which the Magistrate responded with a rap.

  The bear, meanwhile, shook his head in amazement. Unable to restrain himself further, he spoke up with sarcastic, self-righteous indignation:

  "Fully recognizing the irrelativity, and the insignificance, of the 'details' of this case," the bear said, looking pointedly in turn at the owl, the lion, and the Magistrate, "I wouldn't accept either one minute in the Hawg City penitentiary--or even one second in the Modifier–without protest. So let's get that straight from the start."

  "Haarumph--here, here, now Boston," grumbled the owl in a scolding tone.

  "You've lost the case," Percy said with impatience. "Make the best of it and do your punishment--support the system."

  The bear shook his head and uttered a sigh of pent up frustration. A moment of silence passed.

  "Howsomever that may be," he said, "I would submit to you, Perceival Theodilious, as well as to the Seventh, but especially to all of these Hawg City warthogs, that I have seen nothing I would want to support. The system, as reflected in the conditions of this city and the behavior of these citizens, is sorely lacking, as Perceival Theodilious quite accurately pointed out earlier."

  Horace Picot, who had worn a look of extreme skepticism upon his snout ever since the bear had begun to speak, spoke up in protest:

  "Hawg City is the most progressive city you will find anywhere in the jungle! Nowhere will you find the advances in technology, the high level of productivity that we have in our city. The measure of the dross of so great a metropolis is but an infinitesimal, though inescapable, fraction of the pure gold of its product!" After the manner of a Roman orator Horace held out a hoof expansively and turned to include the crowd. "If we have problems--and we do, we are not perfect--they are a reflection of the high standards to which we hold ourselves. Our penitentiary contains fully half of our population within its confines!" The crowd emitted a murmur in affirmation of this impressive fact.

  "Some as would say that's no great accomplishment," the bear said with grim humor. "And anybody that lives in the filth and overcrowded conditions--"

  "Oh, but come now, we must use our resources in the most cost effective manner!"

  "By crowding all of these warthogs in on top of each other?" Percy asked with skepticism.

  Horace regarded the lion warily. "Compaction is a most effective way to accommodate an expanding consumer base. Should we," he said, assuming an exaggerated, farcical manner, "give up our economic well being so that we can have some more dirt between us in which to plant ragweed?" The crowd snickered.

  "I wouldn't want to point out the obvious," Boston said, "but sooner or later you'll run out of land to compact."

  "We are nowhere near the point where that should become a problem," the barrister said dismissively. "There is plenty of room left." A note of irritation crept into his voice, however, and he glanced with uncertainty at the Magistrate. The bear was performing as he had feared. The sooner they shut him up the better.

  "Haarumph!" the owl grunted with interest and turned to the lion. "They fail to see the point--haarumph!"

  "They hide behind a deliberate obtuseness!" the lion agreed. "Nevertheless, they will have to come around to our way of seeing things."

  "Now see here," the Magistrate objected. "We have our customs and traditions like every other society. We'll have no interference with the way we're doing things here." Then in a more receptive tone, he asked doubtfully: "Saying we did have a problem, what would you have us do about it?"

  Scattered grunts of curiosity came from the crowd.

  "Trade off," the lion said. "Reduce the consumer base, reorient your economy, accept some loss of economic well being--"

  "No way!" Horace cried, and the Magistrate rapped sharply with a hoof. "The land is ours to use. We'll not go into a state of regression in order to satisfy anti-social predilections or some whimsical notion of natural purity!"

  "Haarumph! A most difficult situation!" the owl said in bewilderment. "They refuse to see reason." He thought for a moment in silence. The eyes of the courtroom were upon him. Then, he turned to the lion and said uncertainly: "Shall we use force?"

  As a single organism the courtroom recoiled in horror at these words. The Magistrate and Horace regarded each other with looks expressive of profound disbelief. Grits Hamby snorted and gasped. Interestingly, of all of the Hawg City officiary it was Madame DeKooncey who best maintained her composure. Fairly secure in the knowledge that her culpability had receded as an issue, she spoke up:

  "The use of force would be most counterproductive," she said flatly.

  "Sit down," Grits snarled.

  "I would agree with Madame DeKooncey on this," the bear said, ignoring Grits. "With what I know about these hogs, I don't think that would get the desired result."

  The boars looked at each other in complete befuddlement. These developments were quite unexpected. A silence had fallen over the courtroom. The warthogs in the audience presented a uniformly blank expression of incomprehension. None of the principals had the slightest idea of how to proceed. Madame DeKooncey, effectively silenced by Grits Hamby, kept her peace. All waited expectantly for the party of Perceival Theodilious to take the lead.

  "Haarumph!" Honorashious grunted, settling his wings on his shoulders and shaking his massive claws. "The rulings of the Seventh--haarumph--should be your guide out of this morass of uncertainty. Haarumph! The absurdity of your laws, and the intolerable living conditions to which you submit, should be examined in detail. Further--haarumph--these actions are not inconsequential to the rest of the jungle! You have ruined the savannah--haarumph--and the putrid yellow haze of smog that rises above your city spreads beyond even that."

  "But we can't control the wind!" protested the Magistrate.

  "Haarumph! We will contest these issues no further here. I would concede, however," the owl said with a condescending frown at the bear, "that the remarks by the bear were unwarranted, unjust, inaccurate, and--basically--false! You have no choice but to maintain your society intact. A forum for litigation is most--haarumph--important--not to mention explicitly mandated by the Seventh--despite the fundamental wrongness of your precepts! Haarumph! The Seventh will arrange hearings to addr
ess these issues at a future date. Haarumph."

  On hearing these words of the presumptive owl, the bear clamped his muzzle shut so tightly that the muscles of his neck and jaw rippled the fur like tunneling moles. He stood tensely as the bailiff snapped on the collar and chains and secured it all with a lock.

  Horace twisted his snout into a scornful smirk. He would leave lie, for now, these last inflammatory comments. Hawg City had won on all points as far as he was concerned.

  The Magistrate, though disturbed by the concluding arguments, was astute enough to see that events were likely to deteriorate if the litigation was prolonged further. Thus, with a sharp rap of the hoof he cut his losses and adjourned the court.

  As the warthogs struggled snorting and grunting to squeeze out the doors, the criminal members of our party, now shamefully robed in their chains, stood patiently awaiting the ministrations of the guards who came forward and surrounded them. Madame DeKooncey rose and with a nod of the head started the group from the room.

  As the convicts filed out Grits Hamby leaned over and whispered something into the barrister's pointed ear, and the two warthogs snickered in derision.

  36. The Punishment is Carried Out

  In the Magistrate's office were gathered the principals of the trial which had just concluded. The Magistrate sat comfortably behind his desk, a half-smile of smug satisfaction upon his snout. Perceival Theodilious and Honorashious stood in the center of the room before him. Also present were Horace Picot and Grits Hamby, who held their snouts close together over by a window in serious consultation about something or other. Madame DeKooncey was absent, having accompanied the prisoners in order to work out the details of their punishment, on strict orders of the Seventh Juridical to detail the entire group--and never mind any personal fastidiousness of preference to the contrary--to the Modifier at the earliest opportunity, and so expedite the group's departure.

  "That's all beyond my purview, Perceival Theodilious," the Magistrate was saying with a sweeping wave of a hoof through the air before him. "If you've chosen to divulge the secrets of the jungle--while I certainly would question your judgment--I am not compelled to take any action. I am puzzled, however," the boar said with a raised eyebrow, "by the apparent complicity of the Seventh Juridical."

  "Haarumph!" Honorashious grunted and directed a scowl of irritation at the boar. "You far exceed the proper bounds of your station in this ridiculous presumption of authority over Perceival Theodilious the Eighth! Haarumph! However--haarumph--I will concede that it would indeed be unconscionable for the Seventh--haarumph--to be accomplice to such an act, if the Seventh were in fact accomplice--haarumph--which the Seventh most assuredly was not!"

  The Magistrate raised his eyebrows in mock surprise but did not dispute this assertion.

  Over at the window, having concluded his discussions with Grits, Horace now turned to address the others. "We don't have anything," he announced. "Grits hasn't heard anything at all on the boy."

  "Further supporting Egbert's thesis--haarumph--of the Hollowed Tree!"

  The barrister looked curiously at the owl. "I don't think anybody in Hawg City gives serious consideration to the Hollowed Tree anymore," he said, turning to the other boars with a look of inquiry. "Do they?"

  "Most hogs in this city never even heard of it," the Magistrate agreed.

  "But the secrets of the jungle?" Percy asked with discerning interest. "Surely you have a knowledge and facility with the secrets of the jungle?"

  "Well...uh...," the Magistrate said somewhat guiltily and paused, seemingly at a loss for an answer.

  "We don't study them much," Horace admitted.

  "Mainly irrelative nowadays," the Magistrate said.

  "Haarumph." Honorashious looked at the lion and murmured: "Perhaps we pull the veil aside."

  "Perhaps," snorted the lion, "yet, we shall leave these warthogs for another day; now, we must be about our business."

  "We welcome a revisit at anytime," the Magistrate retorted with an aggressive toss of the snout. "--properly announced and well coordinated beforehand, of course." Then, with an air of closure he turned to Grits Hamby: "Grits, what are we looking at for the Modifier?"

  "Should get all four in before sundown," the inestimable Grits answered. "Madame DeKooncey is under strict orders from the Seventh."

  "Very well," the Magistrate said with satisfaction. "Let us repair to the courtyard, gentlemen, to review the punishments in progress."

  The group turned and went out. In the antechamber, waiting patiently, a family of hogs moved respectfully from the path of these dignitaries as they came out. Recognizing Bartruff, Percy halted opposite the family and directed upon them a gaze of concentrated scrutiny. With no more consideration for their sentient presence than if they were a collection of inanimate merchandise on a shelf, he remarked critically to Honorashious:

  "Quite the normal, bourgeois family, I should expect."

  "Haarumph! They are indeed. Ignorance is blissful, my good Percy!"

  "Hah!" the Magistrate grunted. "The Swinsons. Yes, yes. Come in. Go on ahead without me, gents; I'll catch up."

  Happy to escape further scrutiny from the lion, the family shuffled behind the Magistrate into his office.

  The Sergeant Major, who had been waiting in the room with the Swinson family, looked thoughtful. "Kind of pitiful," he said. "They's worrying and all, and now that the trial's over they's happy as can be. Didn't have no more worry about the right nor wrong of it than..." the sparrow paused, sighed, and mumbled irresolutely, "Oh well...I guess that's done done for now...let's get go'n."

  Grits and Horace Picot presided solicitously over the outer door, awaiting their exit.

  "Gents?" Horace said, and beneath his watchful gaze the party filed out.

  Quite a crowd had gathered in the courtyard of the penitentiary by the time this delegation arrived after experiencing serious delays in traffic. In the vicinity of the penitentiary it had been especially slow going due to the high popularity of the afternoon's schedule of events and its novel cast of characters. Preceded by a contingent of Routers, specially detailed to the job by Grits Hamby, they all filed into the crowded courtyard and were ushered immediately to the front.

  Here, his feet held securely in the stocks of the Modifier, sat Boston Beverly Excalibur Bear, wearing upon his face a look of immense disgust mingled with shame. He was facing the iron fence that bordered the hog-filled trail in front of the prison. Forced to endure the fixed stares of the curious pedestrians, who pressed their snouts eagerly against the fence, he twisted his face into the faintest suggestion of a sardonic smile and bore with stoicism a constant barrage of insults and ridicule. From time to time, the ugly sow's machinations with her feather having become too severe to withstand, his huge frame would quake as a great chuckle rose involuntarily to his black lips. He sat erect, the leather straps left off at his own special request on condition that he remain very still. The bear was nearing the end of his time by now. Presently, the sow stepped back from her work and nodded; a husky guard came forward and released him from the stocks.

  No sooner had Boston risen from the bench--to the accompaniment of a cacophony of hoots and catcalls from the hogs in the street--than an armadillo was brought forward snarling contemptuously and even spitting at the crowd behind the fence. They strapped the armadillo down on the bench, slammed down the stocks (adjusted to the animal's small feet by means of a slide mechanism) and commenced to work his paw with precise movements of the feather. The armadillo sulked angrily, his snout exhibiting not the faintest trace of any emotion other than preeminent scorn and contempt for his tormentor and his audience.

  "Haarumph!" Honorashious grunted and flapped his wings with pleasure. "Agamemnon is a combatant of the--haarumph--first order. We behold such--haarumph--fortitude, such high spirited, soldierly ardor, only rarely. I am afraid that your Modifier will have little effect upon these armadillos, Madame DeKooncey! Haarumph!"

  "A good show indeed!" the l
ion agreed, noting with grim satisfaction that the hogs behind the fence had recoiled somewhat before the fierceness of the armadillo.

  "The Modifier will have its effect," Madame DeKooncey said fatalistically. "We seldom see repeat offenders after such a session. I would agree, however, that the bravery and self discipline of this armadillo are splendid to behold; never have I seen one so plucky under such duress."

  The bear, who upon his release had immediately become a member of the crowd like any other, stood a bit off from Percy and Honorashious, preferring the company of Grits Hamby, Madame DeKooncey, and Horace Picot to that of his treacherous comrades. He stood sulking, silent and morose, the indignities to which he had just been subjected foremost in his mind. In this state of preoccupation, he permitted his eyes to wander idly over the crowd until they came to rest upon the sight of a familiar snout pressed against the fence, smirking derisively. It was Slag, his sycophantic sow close beside him. Boston narrowed his eyes with irritation. Further along the fence, he descried Squeegie with his weeping mother; the old woman appeared now to be in the most cheerful of moods punctuated by much laughter instigated by her own frequent remarks to the crowd at large at the expense of our protagonists.

  "There you are," he said bitterly, turning to Grits Hamby with a nod at the fence. "They look happy enough. I hope that satisfies you."

  Grits looked over at the fence and snorted with contempt. "Hah! I'd bet you good money," he remarked with scorn, "you'll find those two soon enough squirming right there on that bench where that armadillo is now!" Then, with a friendly air of confidentiality he added: "I don't mind telling you, bear, as far as I'm concerned, these barristers and such stand too much on the finer points of the law. There is absolutely no reason to wrap yourself around the axle on these technicalities of litigation."

  Taking pity on the bear, Madame DeKooncey said kindly: "Bear, you take this entirely too much to heart. You have done your punishment; now put aside your pride and move on."