Oak Do Hate

now be a Mistress of the forest, which with luck can watch all grow and flourish for a thousand years."

  Her temper flared. Bollocks! It can't end like this! I won't let it!

  She felt the familiar tingling in her palm as her greatsword materialize in her hand. She closed her fist around it, and the paralysis vanished. She brought the sword around in front of the Spirit, holding it in both hands with the blade pointed up, the tip just inches from its face. She noted with smug satisfaction that the Oakmen scrambled for cover. No doubt the sword's iron was more powerful than the Beretta's.

  The Spirit reared back as its eyes widened and their glow blazed brighter. "Caliburn!"

  That's unexpected. She had hoped it would give her the advantage, but the being's reaction was more like awe and apprehension than fear.

  "You know it?"

  "The Spirit possesses the memories of the Spirits of the forests which birthed the trees planted here, as well as those of the Spirits of the forests which birthed the plantings of the previous. Caliburn is the sword of the Pen Draig."

  Pen Draig? She mulled over the unusual name.

  It sounds Celtic; could it be Welsh?

  She remembered Aelfraed telling her that in Welsh 'draig' meant...dragon....

  Pendragon! "My mother's name was Pendragon!"

  "Mother?"

  Oh, no, we're not going through that again! "My father's families were the owners of this estate. My mother married into that. She and her family are innocent of any wrong done to your trees."

  The Spirit took a moment to consider her words. "As much as the actions of the Masters of this Place cry out for restitution, there is no animosity against the Pen Draig; indeed, the memory is held in high regard."

  She figured that could offer a way out, but it didn't quite make sense. "I don't understand."

  "Ever since the days of Artur Brenin, the Pen Draig have watched over the land and protected the forests. This trust has never been betrayed. It cannot be conceived that it ever would be betrayed."

  It probably means King Arthur. The Pendragons are supposed to be descended from him. "Since I am a Pendragon, you cannot believe that I would do anything to harm your trees."

  "Indeed; such would be inconceivable."

  "Yet, you also believe I bear the responsibility of my father's families for the harm they have caused your forest."

  "Yes; compensation is owed, but to force the Mistress to make it, even in part, would condemn the Pen Draig as well."

  "Then I guess we have a standoff."

  "Even if the Mistress cannot be taken, the Servants will pay the required compensation."

  She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. Worse, she didn't know what to do. She understood she could escape. She only had to walk away; Caliburn would protect her. But that wouldn't help her people. She would be abandoning them to a fate they did not deserve, but she couldn't think of any way to save them.

  The Spirit is adamant that all the destroyed trees must be replaced; how can I convince it otherwise? My first test as Director, and I've failed; I've failed them! How can I protect sovereign, church, and country if I can't even save my own people?

  If only someone could tell me what to do! Father...Mother! I wish you were here to help me!

  Even as that thought rang through her mind, she felt a strange sensation. For a moment she imagined that her parents were coming to her aid. Then she saw tiny globes of glowing colored light drift into the coup. They gathered around her, like will o' the wisps playing a game of tag. One drifted down the length of the blade and floated across to hover right before her face. Within the glow she recognized the gossamer lady she had captured so many years ago, kneeling on her leaf. She smiled at her, and winked.

  An idea popped into Differel's head. It was a risky one; there was a good chance it could fail, and if it did she would be doomed along with her people. But if it was to succeed, there could be no hint of coercion. She willed Caliburn to vanish.

  "Spirit of the Oaks, I believe I have a solution that will provide the compensation you demand without the sacrifice of myself or my people. I made a promise to the Little Folk that I would watch over and protect the woods. No doubt they will verify this. At that time I could do little to fulfill that pledge, but now that I am the head of my family and have acquired full ownership of my estate, I can. I propose that you allow me to manage the forest--"

  "No."

  That was critical. She had to make it listen, otherwise she had no hope of convincing it. "Please, hear me out. If, when I'm finished, you still will not grant my request, I will submit to your punishment, but I ask you to listen to everything I have to say before making a decision."

  "Proceed."

  She hoped she knew enough. For obvious reasons she was no expert, but she had written a report on forest management for school. She just prayed that it would be sufficient.

  "This coup is not healthy--"

  "The fault lies with the Masters of this Place."

  "I freely acknowledge that, but it is symptomatic of the whole forest."

  "Explain."

  I'm trying, if you would just shut up!

  She thought of a different tact. Her favorite teachers were the ones who engaged students so they came to an understanding on their own, rather than simply lectured.

  "Does the forest feel healthy to you?"

  "Thriving; growing; living."

  "But is it as healthy as it should be? Search the memories of the Spirits of the previous forests. Compare them to your own experience. Does your forest measure up?"

  The Spirit was silent for some moments, then: "No."

  Finally! Some progress. "The reason is because the trees are all the same age, right? I'm sure that some new ones have sprouted in the last three hundred years, but for the most part the forest as a whole is the same as it was when it was first planted, correct?"

  It paused for a longer time, while bats performed somersaults in her stomach. Finally: "Yes."

  "Is that as it should be?"

  "No."

  "There should be multiple generations, not just a few, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "What would make the forest healthy?"

  "Many living things; many different kinds."

  "We mortals call that diversity. Can there be proper diversity in this forest?"

  "No."

  She smiled; now, for the punch line. "What I propose is this: that I be allowed to manage the forest to introduce more diversity to make it more healthy."

  That was the moment of truth. If it said no again, she had no more arguments.

  It stared at her, as if expecting her to say more. Finally it said, "Elaborate."

  That wasn't quite the answer she expected, but it was encouraging nonetheless. "First, I would conduct a survey, to catalogue all the trees and plants in the forest with estimates of their health and ages." That was already partly done. The manor library contained records of plantings going back to the first three centuries before; she just wasn't sure how recent the latest ones were.

  "Second, I would plant a tree for each that has been cut down by my family. About half would be seedlings, but the rest would be saplings of various ages to create the nucleus of a proper age gradient. Third, I would cull dead, injured, and diseased trees to create clearings, much as natural deadfalls would, and plant two or three seedlings or saplings for each tree removed. Finally, I would re-start coppice management of this coup and create a few new ones to encourage open woodland species to colonize the forest."

  "More trees would have to be removed to improve the health of the forest?"

  That was a dangerous question. She couldn't lie, since she had already admitted as much, and she suspected the Spirit could see through any deception, but if she couldn't convince it the sacrifice was necessary she and her people were doomed. Then she considered that the hatred the oaks felt for being cut down was as much due to ignorance as the act itself.

  "I'm afraid so. This is
not a natural forest, but one planted by mortals. In ignorance they did not know how to create a true high forest or to manage it properly. They simply let it grow on its own, believing that if left to itself it could establish itself as a natural forest would. They were wrong, but in so believing they ignored their responsibility. That was the true sin of my family. As the latest generation, I have inherited that responsibility. I will not ignore it, but to reverse their neglect I will need to take drastic action. The only other alternative is to clear the forest completely and start over, and that is unacceptable."

  "The proposed solution is hard."

  "I know, but sometimes it's necessary to amputate a limb to save the body."

  "Sacrifices will need to be made."

  "Yes, and I understand why you would be reluctant to make them, but I would gladly sacrifice my life to ensure that my family survives."

  "The Mistress is passionate, but not persuasive. Why should the suggested solution be adopted in place of the current restitution?"

  Good question. "I have no answer, and if I were in your place I probably would not. All I can say is the current restitution would only be a temporary fix at best. It would not correct the underlying problem, and in a short amount of time the forest will become senescent and die. I wish to set things right, so I ask you to be merciful. My family was wrong; I apologize for their actions, I beg your forgiveness, and I hope you will give me a second chance."

  That was the moment of truth. She had nothing more to say, and the Spirit would render its final answer. The Little Folk crowded closer around the stool, and though no words were spoken, it seemed to her that they and the Spirit deliberated. She hoped that they were advocating on her behalf, but all she could do was wait.

  She vacillated between anger at the delay and fear that her proposal would be rejected, but presently the Little Folk dispersed back into coup. The Spirit gazed down at her, giving no indication of its state of mind.

  "The proposed solution is accepted."

  She almost fainted from relief. "Thank you."

  "The Mistress is granted a chance to prove sincere, but forgiveness will be withheld until the solution is proven."

  "I understand."

  "A review will be made in a century of mortal time, when a decision as to whether to continue will be made."

  "Hmph. I probably won't be around then, but I agree."

  Even as she replied, however, the Spirit faded into the silvery mist, which began to seep back into the stool, as if her agreement wasn't really required.

  "Wait! What about my people?"

  The glowing mist continued to fade into the wood.

  "I can't do this on my own, I'll need their help! Please!" But the mist disappeared as the dark of night descended onto the coup.

  "Oh, bloody hell!" She scooped up the Beretta and looked around, trying to see a way back to the lake, but she was completely disoriented. The Little Folk dispersed into the surrounding woods, all except one. She recognized it as the Gossamer Lady. It flitted about in a manner that suggested it wanted her to follow. She went towards it and it retreated. She quickened her pace and followed it out of the coup and through the forest, until she emerged into the park. The Lady maneuvered about for a few seconds, then sped into the woods and disappeared, but she didn't notice. Her people, free of their wooden prisons, lay on the ground, stirring as if awakening from a sound sleep.

  Before she could approach them, she heard the roar of helicopter blades as one flew overhead. She figured it was a scout, going in ahead of the main force. That meant the troops Sir Edward had dispatched would be arriving soon.

  "About time you bloody wankers showed up." Then she giggled. Mrs. Widget would really have a fit if she heard that.

  Sir Edward did come with the troops, and they entered the park grounds as Differel checked out her staff. As soon as the SAS teams had secured the area, the medics who had accompanied them moved in, though by that time Doc LeClerc and the rest of the manor medical personnel had recovered sufficiently that they were