A Walk In The Woods
An allegorical tale of humanity's depredation of nature; when a weary woodsman encounters a sick old woman in the heart of the forest, he comes to realise there's another use for his axe...
ONCE, there lived a simple woodsman called Grimble. He made his living from the Great Forest, cutting timber to serve his own meagre needs. Life was hard, but he was his own master and the Forest did not unduly suffer from the tender pruning it received.
Yet all things must change and such a time came to Grimble. Great cities arose throughout the land, spreading southwards until a city was founded on the very borders of Grimble's forest. This city needed wood. For craft, for fuel and for art, Grimble and his kind supplied the wood and prospered.
Soon there came to this city a man of great wealth. This fortune he had made in one of the lesser cities, and hearing of the Great Forest he became enamoured of its promise. Together with the City's rulers he conspired to possess the Forest, even though it had once been in the possession of all.
So it was that this man became known as the WoodMaster and built himself a great palace in the City. An edict was issued that none may touch the Master's wood: the woodsmen were ruined and dispossessed.
The cities cried out for wood, as the Master knew they must. And so he made an offer to the Woodsmen he knew they could not refuse: they would cut timber for the Master and he would sell it.
The Master's wealth increased and he grew fat from the proceeds of the timber, while the woodsmen and their families survived from day to day on the little the Master paid them. So it went on year after year.
Now, the Great Forest was not the only forest in the land. Soon new masters appeared, looking to rival the Master's fortune. The WoodMaster struggled to sell his timber.
His anger was great. More timber was felled and the Master sold it for less than his upstart rivals. The woodsmen had to toil all the harder to calm the Master's wrath.
"My timber sells for less," he raged. "And so you must work for less."
The woodsmen suffered terribly, yet still the Master grew in wealth and girth until he could no longer walk, but lay on his couch while servants stuffed his mouth with grapes and other succulent fruits.
And still the years passed with no end to the toil. Until the Great Forest began to dwindle, its majestic trees as sparse as the hair on a balding man's head. The Master was loathe to spend his wealth on replenishing his forest. His rivals did no such thing. So he did not, but conquered fresh forests instead.
So it was, that one day Grimble ventured into the thinning Forest, axe in hand. With a heavy heart he approached a young tree and prepared to strike the first blow.
At that moment a woman appeared before him, so close he had to strain to turn his blow and avoid hitting her. Instead the axe struck a stone with such force that the pain of it caused Grimble to drop the axe.
The woman said nothing as he massaged his jarred hands, just looked at him sorrowfully. Her skin was as brown as autumn leaves. Her hair was brilliant gold and cascaded over naked shoulders. She was clad only in living flowers.
"Who are you?" he asked, more gruffly than he intended.
The woman walked closer, stumbled and fell against him. Instinctively Grimble supported the woman as her hands weakly pawed his chest. She looked up at him, those green eyes burning bright from a face and body emaciated from sickness. Grimble shuddered but he did not let go.
"Why do you persecute me, Grimble?"
"I'm not," he stammered in confusion. "I don't even know you."
The woman smiled feebly and closed her eyes for a moment as though gathering strength. At last she said: "Has it been so long? Once you would have known me."
"But I do not, Lady. Who are you?"
"I'm part of you, Grimble. I'm in every living thing – the birds and the beasts, the flowers and the trees. I am the spirit of the Forest. You may call me Gaia if you wish."
"Gaia?" Grimble replied in disbelief. "And what would she want with the likes of me?"
"To ask you this: why do you persecute me?"
"Lady, I do not persecute you. I simply cut wood for the Master."
The woman smiled and closed her eyes. For a moment she rested her head against Grimble's chest and then whispered: "You do not persecute me. Yet still the Forest dies."
"That is not my doing," Grimble said sadly, remembering for a moment the Forest as it once had been. Before the Master arrived.
"But you can stop it," she said, looking up in a pleading manner. "Help me Grimble. Let the Forest live."
Grimble looked away sadly, ashamed of his role under the scrutiny of those penetrating eyes. "I cannot help you," he said, shrugging. "Talk to the Master. Only he can save what he owns."
The Master will not see me," Gaia said sadly. "But how can he own what was here before him and what could still be long after he has gone?"
"I don't know. I only cut wood."
The woman released Grimble and took a staggering step away. She pointed at a patch of bare soil between the thinning trees. "Look," she said hoarsely, moving her arms in a circular motion.
Grimble gasped as a mist swirled around him. It surrounded him with cold, cloying tendrils. The Forest faded from view. A disk appeared, suspended in the mist, a brilliant orb of blue and green and white. Then slowly it faded to putrid brown and grey.
The image changed. The festering orb faded and was replaced by a windswept landscape. Dead trees littered the wasted ground. In the distance a ruined city towered over the horizon. The ground was scattered with bones.
The woman gripped Grimble's hand and squeezed. The sensation shocked him and he turned to face her. "Such is my future, Grimble," she whispered imploringly. "Save me!"
Trembling, Grimble looked back at the apparition of death. It evaporated with the mist, revealing the still living forest. He turned back to the woman, but she was gone.
THE following morning found the timberyard in turmoil. The woodsmen had gathered round the GuildMaster. Angry words were being exchanged.
"What is going on here?" Grimble asked.
"The Master is bringing in machines to do our work," the man snarled his reply. "Most of the men are to go. Those who are left will man his machines. Our GuildMaster has agreed for his own good."
Grimble looked up at the GuildMaster standing on the old tree stump, dressed in a silk waistcoat and tailored suit. His thoughts returned to the apparition in the woods: the sick, frail woman imploring him, those intense sorrowful eyes burning into his conscience.
With a call for silence Grimble dragged the GuildMaster down from the stump and threw him into the dirt. Grimble spoke to the Woodsmen. He spoke of their dispossession. Of the destruction of the Forest and the Master's growing wealth. These words touched the woodsmen, caused the anger, the frustration, the bitterness of years to boil up from the depths of their souls. Only the GuildMaster's whining voice of protest could be heard, but soon he was drowned out in the uproar.
"Down with the Master!" they cried as one and marched to the City.
Through the gates they stomped, still calling for the Master. Many joined the march and swelled its numbers until thousands of angry voices shook the city to its foundations. Everywhere cries and cheers greeted them from windows and hovels and still their numbers grew.
Until at last they halted before the Palace gates. The Captain of the Watch stood before them. A contingent of his men already manned the walls.
"What do you want? Get back to work!" he shouted. The crowd fell silent. "This is a public disturbance. Anti-social behaviour will not be tolerated. If you do not disperse you will be arrested."
"Out of the way lackey!" Grimble shouted in reply. A volley of rotten fruit pelted the Captain's men standing before the gates.
"You are under arrest!" the Captain blustered. "Take him!"
Men of the Watch hesitantly came forward to drag Grimble away, but the crowd surged and cut them down. Grimble lashed out at the Captain and saw the man fall. He waited no longer, raised his axe in the air and signalled the people to the attack. Together they rushed through the gates, scattering the panic stricken Watchmen who vainly tried to stem the flow.
Fighting spread to every corner of the Palace. The cries of the people, harsh in anger, pitiable in pain, echoed from the walls as the Watchmen were steadily swallowed up in a tide of rage.
At last the fighting began to ebb as the last few Watchmen were defeated. Grimble and several of his fellow woodsmen hastened to the Master's public chambers. They burst in, but the City's rulers had already fled, taking what they could of the Master's gold. He they had left to the mercy of the woodsmen.
The WoodMaster rolled onto the floor and tried vainly to crawl away, only to be defeated by his great size. There he lay, panting with fear and exertion, grovelling in his remaining gold like a grotesque, diseased slug.
"Take my money!" he whined. "But please don't hurt me!"
"We don't want your gold," Grimble said quietly. "Your gold has been a chain around our necks and death to the Forest. We have come to break those chains and unleash life."
The Master screamed in a terrible gurgle as Grimble stepped forward. With a look of sorrow and pity Grimble raised his axe. The others also raised theirs. And struck.
The deed done, Grimble wiped the spattered blood from his face. Wearily he turned towards the bronze doors and the great gathering that had assembled to crush the Master's reign. The people looked at Grimble in astonished uncertainty. Then they turned their gaze onto the Master's bloody carcass.
Only one pair of eyes still watched Grimble. They were green, intense, and alive. The Lady smiled. Grimble returned her smile and held her gaze until the spell between them was broken and she turned to walk away.
"The Master is dead!" a man suddenly cried, joyously throwing his arms in the air. "We can all live again."
That cry swept through the people, crashing through the Palace to echo over the City. The sound of the people's triumph was heard even in the Forest where birds began to sing and the trees sprang into bloom.
MC
Copyright © January 1996
This story was first published in The Pen, Winter 1996. Subsequently it appeared in Sci-Fright #6 March 2000. It was later included in the author’s self-published fiction collection, Isolation Space (2009).