Month: April 2007

The parents came into the small tent where the priest waited. On a blanket in a corner lay the two infants, each playing with a stick. “By the Tree, I greet you.”

“By the Tree, we came.”

“Sit down, relax. I wanted to know some things about the children before–”

“Before you kill them?” The mother sobbed, finally breaking down.

“No, they will not die, at least not for a very long time. Children who are sacrificed are not killed. They are given to the Mother Tree. They will live out their lives taking care of her and her other children.”

The father looked up. “Uncle, I do not understand. Legend says the children are all killed, their blood poured onto her roots.”

“They are not killed, but yes, some blood will be spilled onto her roots. You are bound by law to never reveal this to anyone. But to hold your heads high and accept their fate. To you, they may as well be dead. You will never see them again.”

“But they will live?” The mother wiped her eyes.

“Yes. I have some questions for you both, but I have some that are important right now. As you can see, I am an old man. There are no other priests but me. I am uncertain as to how to care for two children at once.” He raised his hand to stop the mother from speaking. “Do not tell me their names or how to tell them apart. That is information I do not need to know.”

“They are good girls. The one is the more dominant and demanding. The other is quieter and rarely cries. The one will get angry if she hears her smaller sibling crying. They take turns, waiting while one gets the attention. But sometimes they can be quite frustrating.”

“It is the way of twins, especially identical ones.” The priest nodded.

“How will you take care of two children? They cannot crawl yet, but when they do…”

“They will be everywhere, I know. Do either of them have any physical problems?”

“The smallest seems to have a weakness in her legs. They move, but she does not kick as strong. She also becomes ill easier.”

#

The old priest lit the candles and leaned back against the middle pole of the tent. He looked over where the two children lay in the baskets that were slightly standing up so he could see their faces. They stared at the candles.

“Good, children. Now, let’s go speak to the Holy Mother.” He closed his eyes and listened to his breathing. He extended his senses to listen for the breathing and heart beat of his two new charges. He extended it further, feeling the collective sleep of the villagers around him. Five young men were awake, wandering the perimeter in case some wild animal found their way too close. Then he came to the Tree herself. He could sense her breathing through her branches. He could feel her heartbeat as the sap flowed.

He could also sense her laughter. She thought this was funny! The priest tried his best to glare at her but her good mood effected him too. The great owl flew down to land near him. His mouth opened, but the voice of the Mother Tree came out. “Sleep, my child. Dream.”

The priest shook himself, his mind back with his body in the tent. He looked over at the two children. The larger one was asleep but the smaller was staring at him. He smiled at her.

The elders met near the largest tent. The oldest of them was the assumed leader. “The tree has spoken. The children will be sacrificed to the priests.”

The parents stood in the center on a log. They didn’t speak. They did not look up. “Great honor is on you both. You will both become leaders in your village. You will be respected and admired by everyone.”

At last the father spoke. “When will the priests come?”

“Soon. May I see the children?” The oldest elder nodded toward the baskets where the babes lay sleeping.

“Of course.” The mother spoke.

The elder motioned for one of the young women assistants to bring him the baskets. He took one child out then the other, holding both in his arms. “They must have been a handful, this past few seasons.”

“We have four other children and were not prepared for two more. It has not been easy, but we loved them no less.” The mother stood tall again.

“Of course you did. Both females? How strange. Usually twins are one of each. But they are so rare either way.” He looked up at the mother. “You must have known they were destined for something larger than us all.”

She nodded.

One of the infants awoke and yawned. She stared up at the strange man holding her. She reached up and grabbed his beard. “You telling me something, little one?” He handed the child to the elder on his right and the still sleeping infant to the one on his left. Each placed a blessing on the child before passing it to the next elder.

Before the two infants had completed the circle, the crowd around them grew silent and parted to allow the priest to come through. He was old and bent, using a tall walking stick to help him along. The elder rose and bowed to him.

“Uncle, by the Tree, we greet you.”

“By the Tree, I came.” The old man saw the two babes still being passed around. “Two?” His voice rose slightly.

“Yes.”

“Holy Mother of Trees, what are you doing to me?” He muttered then motioned for the elder to step closer. “Do you know what the sacrifice is?”

“Yes, I do. The children will go–”

“You do know. Then tell me, Nephew, how am I to tend to two?”

“I…I do not know. Perhaps the Mother Tree knows something we do not.”

The old priest snorted. “She does at that. And the twig fell on both of them at once?”

“No, two separate twigs.”

“And the great owl?”

“Two distinct calls.”

“Holy Mother of Trees, do you think me a strapping young man?” He sighed and patted the elder on the shoulder. “I have come a long way this morning. Do you have food and shelter for me? I need to think.”

“But of course, this way, Uncle.”

“Bring the children, I need to meet them.”

The Mother Tree stood east of center in a vast forest. Her branches spread out, taking up the space of several dozen regular size trees. But the Mother Tree was a regular tree to being with. She had been there a long time, longer than any of the little bipeds could remember. Their oral history says she is the Mother Tree, the one from which the first ancestor sat under and rested after being born from one of the tree’s fruit.

Each spring, as the first of her buds began to form, the ancient ritual was performed. The people established the ritual long ago and it was set up so that it was very rare that a sacrifice was made. There had not been one in four lifetimes.

As the buds formed, all children born since the last spring were brought to the tree. They were offered to the Mother Tree in exchange for her giving birth the their ancestors. As the children lay on the still frost covered leaves under the massive branches, the people waited. They waited for the sign that a child would be accepted in exchange.

There would be no doubting the sign since it was such an unusual thing, something that could only come from the Mother Tree. A twig holding a newly formed bud had to fall and land on a child. Then to confirm it, the great owl living high above in the trunk had to call out. The chances of both of these events happening accidentally at the same time just was not possible. The great owl was nocturnal and was only seen in the day time during the late fall fire season. As for the twig with the bud, the chances of one falling were slim enough but for one to fall and actually land on a child was even slimmer.

A spring came when there were not many children born the previous year. In all, there were only seven children ranging from an infant just a few weeks old to one that was almost a year old.

Several villages came to witness the event. The tree was so far into the forest that they set up tents and lean-to huts, using wood they brought with them. It was a two day trip in, two days there, and two days back. Then they would help each other start the plowing of the fields.

Despite there not being a call for a sacrifice in four lifetimes, the villagers still maintained a sense of dignity and respect. The babes were dressed in their finest clothes and laid on the leaves on the ground. The drum beat began after the last child was placed on the ground. A steady rhythm, a heartbeat, the drum sounded out across the forest. Wild animals stood still, hunter and prey alike. There was a sense of anticipation in the air.

With the birds and people silent, all that was heard was the drum. Yet when the twigs landed on first one child and then its twin, it was as loud as a village gong. The drummer faltered but kept up the beat. She glanced toward the village elders who now stared up into the branches of the Mother Tree.

As big as the great owl is, he does not make a sound when he flies. He landed on the lowest branch, then floated down to a large stone near the trunk. The parents of the twins stood still and straight. A slow bead of sweat ran down the man’s back. And the owl called out twice.