Part 5

In the morning Maria awoke to a crunching sound from outside in the garden. She woke with a start and raced to the window to see what was happening. She heard voices talking, men’s voices, harsh and unfamiliar. She peered out of the window and saw in the distance several men, with her father digging around the tree. With horror she looked upon a man with a big scythe chopping swathes of the tree, whole branches off in one stroke. She called out, but the noise that they were making in destroying the Tree meant that they could not hear her cries. She banged her fists on the window in agony. The men had no pity, and she could not understand their brutality. “O my Tree! My Tree! They do not know what they are doing! If only they knew!” she cried out, hoping that the Tree or the men could hear her, praying and hoping that someone could do something.

Lash upon lash struck down upon the branches of the Tree, causing sap to drip from its wounds down upon the ground and into the earth. Maria could not bear to see it. The men dug their spades into the Tree and dug deep into the ground slicing through its roots with their sharp edges. She saw two men begin to bow down before the Tree and pretend to worship it and hug it with a false embrace. “Look at me, one of them said, I’m a tree-hugger!” They jeered at it and cursed it and finally the last crunch came from the earth and Maria heard the men cry out in a loud voice, “Tiiiimmmmber!” Maria saw and heard an almighty crash and a terrifying thump as the Tree fell down and was laid low upon the ground. It rested on the earth, lifeless. At that moment the sky became very dark and the men grew fearful of what they had done. For they knew that this was no ordinary tree. Even though the branches had been severed and lay scattered on the floor, no apples had fallen loose to the ground. One of the men went to take one of them, but another stopped him, saying, “Do not break any of the apples from the branches.” So he did not.

She watched in terror as the men picked the Tree up together and, with a heave, marched it down the garden, passed Maria’s window into the passage-way and out of sight. One man gathered the branches and scattered roots into a wheelbarrow and followed them down the pathway. Maria looked and saw that there was nothing left of her beloved Tree.

The men took the tree just a mile down the road and onto a boat. They loosed the boat from its moorings and sailed out to sea. When they thought they had got far enough into the sea, they threw the tree, with its roots and its branches into the murky waters, and when they had done this they washed their hands in the salty sea.

Maria cried and cried so much that she thought she could no longer breathe with the sorrow and heartache and pain she felt because she knew that no more would she and her beloved Tree see each other as they did.

From that day onwards her father changed towards her and told her that they were never to mention that tree again, and that she must never mention it to anybody else. She was full of sadness but could not bring herself to hate or despise her father for what he and those men had done, and tried her best to understand their actions.

After three days of being kept in her room her father sent her back out into the orchard to continue her work, tending to the orchard and picking apples for them to sell at the market. She began to sing herself a different song while she worked,

“My tree has died, my tree has died
Was I really the apple, the apple of his eye!”

Suddenly, she heard a tiny thud and a small rolling sound and looked down upon the ground. There stood an apple. ‘That’s odd,’ she thought, ‘I didn’t see any apples fall from this tree.’ She carried on working and continued to sing,

“My tree has died, my tree has died
Was I really the apple, the apple of his eye!”

“What on earth?” she cried out loud. “Where are these apples coming from?” She looked around her and there was no wind, no breeze to blow apples along the ground towards her. She looked at the empty space where the Tree once stood, though there was no trace of it now, just a mound of mud was all that remained of the glorious Tree. So she went back to work, but suddenly, another tiny thud hit the ground and she saw out of the corner of her eye another rosy red apple rolling towards her quickly until it struck her lightly on the foot. And then out of nowhere it seemed Maria was inundated with delicious, rosy red apples just like the ones the glorious Tree had produced. “These apples are coming from the Tree, but the Tree isn’t there!” she shouted. She laughed and cried out for joy, “Father, father, come and see what is happening! The Tree! The Tree is alive!”

“What girl, can’t you see I am trying to get forty winks!” her father replied shortly.
“No, father, I mean it! Come and see! The Tree is alive and he is giving us apples! Apples from the sky!” Maria shouted deliriously.
“Oh Good God!” shouted her father, “You’re right! You were always right!” At once he fell to his knees in awe of the majesty and goodness of the Tree, and wept tears of repentance forming a well-spring of joy in his heart.

They both stood bewildered, staggered by the kindness and love of the Tree. They gathered up all of the apples and put them in a big basket until they stopped falling from the sky. “With these delicious, rosy red apples, Maria we will no longer be as poor as we are! And what is more, if the Good Tree sends us more we can help all of the other families in our village who also are poor as us!”

Maria embraced her father and kissed him on the neck, for the kindness of the Tree, her beloved Tree, had changed his heart and given them new life. From that day onwards Maria and her father were happy and lived peacefully together and often talked about the kindness and compassion of the Tree and from that henceforth they no longer called it the Tree, but called it The Tree of Life.

© Laurence England, May 26th 2006