The Alice Tree part 1
Finally getting round to posting my dissertation from last year :) It's available on Lulu, but I feel a bit squicky about making people pay for it unless they really want to, so it can be here to access for free too.
The early-summer sun was slipping below the horizon as a man and woman approached the gypsy camp on the edge of their village.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The Gypsy Elder received them beside her fire. As the oldest member of the clan it was she who saw to any person who sought her help or wisdom. Other members tended the camp and made items to sell, but it was she alone who could mix medicines and dispense advice. Now she warmed herself by her fire and regarded the pale, anxious faces opposite her.
The woman spoke first. ‘We heard you had come to the village,’ she said. ‘We thought… we hoped you might help us. We can pay.’ She clutched her husband’s hand.
The Elder smiled softly, ‘I will do my best. What is the trouble?’
After a long pause, the man took a breath, ‘We cannot have children. Elizabeth - that is, my wife - has conceived, but the child has always miscarried. It has happened four times now. I fear one more would break our hearts irreparably. We thought to take an orphan into our home, but we so wish for a child of our own blood who can inherit.’
The Elder’s brow furrowed, ‘I am sorry for you, but you must understand, my remedies are for healing ailments but not for altering the body itself.’
A tear ran down the woman’s face. ‘You cannot do anything?’
The Elder paused. As a general rule, she limited her help to herbal medicines and simple advice. Her powers stretched far beyond that, but it was rare they were called upon. It was true that she could not change the body’s natural state; some things were meant to be. She might, however, be able to do something else for them.
She spoke cautiously. ‘It will cost you a lot of money. I believe I can give you a child, though the babe will not be conceived by you in the natural manner. But you will carry it for nine months. The blood will be yours. The body and features will resemble your own. Any other attributes beside those,’ she shrugged, ‘I cannot say.’
The man shook his head slowly, and when he once more met the Elder’s gaze she saw the defeated look in his eyes. It had cost him dearly to come to her, she realised. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said at last. ‘What “attributes” do you speak of? What precisely do you mean to do?’
‘I must insist on payment before I can tell you that. I am putting myself in a dangerous position, I require some security.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The couple looked at each other, thoroughly bewildered. ‘We have no choice,’ stated the woman. ‘To have a child of our blood, however… unusual… the methods might be? It is the only option.’
Slowly, wearily, her husband nodded. ‘Then it is decided.’ He handed over a purse. ‘Will this be enough?’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The Elder weighted it, and smiled. ‘Yes. And so, the plan. I mean to choose a sapling from the forest, nurtured by the earth to be strong and healthy, and to make an infant from that sapling. The child will be planted, as you would plant a seed, into your wife’s womb by means of a potion. Is this agreeable to you?
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Though looking pale and scared, the couple both nodded. The Elder smiled, ‘And so then, to work.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">*
Elizabeth and Matthew Hardwicke were instructed to return at dawn. Before they left the Gypsy Elder filled two glass vials with samples of their blood and gladly took the purse of money.
As the sun rose they returned to the gypsy camp. The Elder was stirring a large pot suspended above the fire. As they approached she dipped a ladle into the pot, and poured some of the liquid into a carved wooden cup.
Silently, Elizabeth and Matthew sat down. Finally acknowledging them, the Elder turned. ‘Are you absolutely certain that this what you want?’ Elizabeth nodded, though she was sure her heart was beating loud enough to wake the entire camp. ‘Then drink this.’ The Elder passed the cup to Elizabeth, who looked uncertainly at its contents. The liquid was dark brown and nearly as thick as porridge.
‘What’s in it?’ she dared to ask.
The Elder laughed, ‘You paid me for a child, not for my secrets.’
Elizabeth took a deep breath and downed the concoction. She grimaced; it tasted foul. ‘Is that all?’
‘No.’ From the folds of her dress the Elder produced a small parcel. ‘This contains a powder. Every day you must mix a spoonful of this powder into a cup of scalding hot water, and drink it before you go to bed. It will nourish the child as he or she grows. It is very important that you do this, I will not be held responsible for anything which happens if you do not.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">***
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
Elizabeth delivered a baby girl the following spring. They named her Alice, and for two months the household was joyful. But the baby was not as healthy as they had first thought. As time went by she grew thin and fractious. Blue veins showed through her pale skin, and she did nothing but sleep. The family doctor could not find what was wrong, and no amount of food or rest seemed to make her any better.
As luck would have it, the Gypsy clan returned. At her first chance Elizabeth hurried to the camp, a year to the day since her last visit.
It was much busier this time. Food was being cooked and horses were being exercised. Children were making themselves useful by carrying water from the nearby stream, and women combed out long wet hair. A fire burned outside the Elder’s caravan by which sat a small boy, watching steam emerge from the spout of a kettle.
The Elder emerged from the caravan. ‘Crispin!’ she called. The boy turned his head. ‘I’ve told you not to go near that fire when I’m not with you!’
The boy hung his head, ‘I’m sorry, Grandmother.’
The Elder reached the boy and ruffled his hair, ‘Don’t you want to go and play?’ The boy shook his head, one hand grabbing his grandmother’s skirt. ‘Very well. You can stay with me just for now.’
Alice wriggled in Elizabeth’s arms and gave a single, tired cry. The Elder turned, ‘Well, hello again.’
Elizabeth stepped forward, ‘I want you to meet Alice. She was born three months ago. Thank you for helping us.’
The Elder smiled, ‘That is good news. She is healthy?’ When Elizabeth paused, the Elder’s face grew worried. ‘What is wrong?’
Elizabeth cradled her daughter to her chest. ‘Alice is sick.’ she stated. ‘No one can do anything for her.’
‘Come and sit down,’ said the Elder, motioning to a chair by the fire. ‘May I have a look?’
Elizabeth nodded, handing the bundle over, and the Elder peeled back the shawl to examine the baby. Elizabeth watched anxiously as the old lady stroked claw-like fingers over her daughter’s smooth skin.
‘Hmm,’ the Elder frowned. ‘The powder I gave you the day she was conceived. Did you take it as I instructed?’
Blushing slightly, Elizabeth lowered her eyes. ‘I did for the first seven months. Then the kitchen girl mistakenly threw it away. The doctors were happy with how everything was progressing, and we hadn’t had any problems, so I thought it would be alright to leave it…’ She trailed off, unnerved by the intensity of the Elder’s gaze.
‘I never give instructions which are unimportant.’ The Elder spoke each word precisely, as though trying to reign in her temper. ‘That powder would have provided all the nourishment the child needed, and would have made her as human as you or me. That she went the final two months without it… well, other measures must be taken now.’
Frightened, Elizabeth bit her lip. ‘What measures?’
The Elder stood, ‘We will take her into the woods, where we will not be disturbed, and lay her on the soil. She will revert to her natural form, and draw the energy she requires from the earth.’
‘And this will make her better? The damage will be undone?’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The old woman looked sad, ‘Alas, no. She will be better for a while, but then she will wane again. From now on, there will be times when she will have to return to tree form and take what she needs.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Elizabethmso-bidi-font-family:Latha"> hastily wiped away a tear. ‘I understand.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The Elder continued, her face growing even more solemn, ‘There is also the chance that one day she may change and never return to her human form. Perhaps after a shock, an accident… we cannot know. But it is possible.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Elizabethmso-bidi-font-family:Latha"> could barely speak. ‘I will take the chance. Shall we go?’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">‘The Elder turned to her grandson, who had been watching wide-eyed. ‘Crispin, my love, go and wait with Ellyn. She’ll give you some food and watch you until I return. I won’t be long.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The boy nodded, and watched the two women walk into the woods.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">***
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Alicemso-bidi-font-family:Latha"> grew into a normal, healthy child. Periodically she would begin to show signs of illness, and then would perform the transformation and be rejuvenated. Whenever the gypsies made camp by their village Alice would be taken to see the Elder for an examination. Her greatest friend was the Elder’s grandson Crispin, who was devoted to her. His parents had died when he was small, and he had been raised by his grandmother. When he was camped nearby they would walk, fish, play and talk together endlessly.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Outside of her family Alice’s story was a matter of greatest secrecy, but Crispin was one of the few people who knew it. As a very young child it had been drilled into Alice that she must never, ever mention it to anyone, as she would be shunned by society - or perhaps worse. It was the very reason that Crispin became her closest friend. With him she had nothing to hide.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">It was generally assumed by both Alice’s parents and the gypsy clan that as they grew older the attachment would lessen. They were from different backgrounds which required entirely different things of them. But contrary to all expectations they remained staunch friends. Under normal circumstances Alice’s parents would have forbidden such a friendship from the very off - he was a gypsy, for goodness sake, and a girl of her standing had better things to do with her time than fishing - but Alice’s parents could not bring themselves to forbid the friendship. In any case, the gypsies were there only for a couple of months every summer, what harm could it do?
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">And so Alice and Crispin continued to spend every waking minute of each summer together, and at some point around his thirteenth birthday, Crispin fell quietly and completely in love with her. For two whole weeks he brought her bunches of flowers picked wild, and whilst she exalted in their beauty and scent, by the fifteenth day she still showed no realisation of his feelings. He gave up, and soon Alice forgot the fortnight during which her best friend gave her wild roses every day. Crispin, however, did not.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">***
As Alice grew into a woman, Elizabeth began to quietly look for a man who would make a suitable husband for her daughter. Matthew had died two years earlier, and Elizabeth was painfully aware of how old she grew. They had not been young when Alice was born, and Elizabeth was not well. She could not rest easy until Alice was safely married. Elizabeth wished to ensure her daughter’s happiness and security whilst she could, and put the difficulties of Alice’s condition to the back of her mind.
Elizabeth’s efforts paid off. Aged eighteen, at a Christmas party given by her aunt in the neighbouring village, Alice first laid eyes on a young man by the name of William Grant. He was twenty-four, and the owner of a large estate ten miles to the north of Alice’s own home. He was also, as was well known, in possession of a large fortune.
For his part, William noticed the petite young woman in the white dress the moment she entered the room, but it took him three whole dances to ask her to stand up with him. They spent the rest of that night and all the parties thereafter on each other’s arm, and William frequently visited her home and dined with the family. At the end of five months they announced their engagement.
Part 2
The early-summer sun was slipping below the horizon as a man and woman approached the gypsy camp on the edge of their village.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The Gypsy Elder received them beside her fire. As the oldest member of the clan it was she who saw to any person who sought her help or wisdom. Other members tended the camp and made items to sell, but it was she alone who could mix medicines and dispense advice. Now she warmed herself by her fire and regarded the pale, anxious faces opposite her.
The woman spoke first. ‘We heard you had come to the village,’ she said. ‘We thought… we hoped you might help us. We can pay.’ She clutched her husband’s hand.
The Elder smiled softly, ‘I will do my best. What is the trouble?’
After a long pause, the man took a breath, ‘We cannot have children. Elizabeth - that is, my wife - has conceived, but the child has always miscarried. It has happened four times now. I fear one more would break our hearts irreparably. We thought to take an orphan into our home, but we so wish for a child of our own blood who can inherit.’
The Elder’s brow furrowed, ‘I am sorry for you, but you must understand, my remedies are for healing ailments but not for altering the body itself.’
A tear ran down the woman’s face. ‘You cannot do anything?’
The Elder paused. As a general rule, she limited her help to herbal medicines and simple advice. Her powers stretched far beyond that, but it was rare they were called upon. It was true that she could not change the body’s natural state; some things were meant to be. She might, however, be able to do something else for them.
She spoke cautiously. ‘It will cost you a lot of money. I believe I can give you a child, though the babe will not be conceived by you in the natural manner. But you will carry it for nine months. The blood will be yours. The body and features will resemble your own. Any other attributes beside those,’ she shrugged, ‘I cannot say.’
The man shook his head slowly, and when he once more met the Elder’s gaze she saw the defeated look in his eyes. It had cost him dearly to come to her, she realised. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said at last. ‘What “attributes” do you speak of? What precisely do you mean to do?’
‘I must insist on payment before I can tell you that. I am putting myself in a dangerous position, I require some security.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The couple looked at each other, thoroughly bewildered. ‘We have no choice,’ stated the woman. ‘To have a child of our blood, however… unusual… the methods might be? It is the only option.’
Slowly, wearily, her husband nodded. ‘Then it is decided.’ He handed over a purse. ‘Will this be enough?’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The Elder weighted it, and smiled. ‘Yes. And so, the plan. I mean to choose a sapling from the forest, nurtured by the earth to be strong and healthy, and to make an infant from that sapling. The child will be planted, as you would plant a seed, into your wife’s womb by means of a potion. Is this agreeable to you?
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Though looking pale and scared, the couple both nodded. The Elder smiled, ‘And so then, to work.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">*
Elizabeth and Matthew Hardwicke were instructed to return at dawn. Before they left the Gypsy Elder filled two glass vials with samples of their blood and gladly took the purse of money.
As the sun rose they returned to the gypsy camp. The Elder was stirring a large pot suspended above the fire. As they approached she dipped a ladle into the pot, and poured some of the liquid into a carved wooden cup.
Silently, Elizabeth and Matthew sat down. Finally acknowledging them, the Elder turned. ‘Are you absolutely certain that this what you want?’ Elizabeth nodded, though she was sure her heart was beating loud enough to wake the entire camp. ‘Then drink this.’ The Elder passed the cup to Elizabeth, who looked uncertainly at its contents. The liquid was dark brown and nearly as thick as porridge.
‘What’s in it?’ she dared to ask.
The Elder laughed, ‘You paid me for a child, not for my secrets.’
Elizabeth took a deep breath and downed the concoction. She grimaced; it tasted foul. ‘Is that all?’
‘No.’ From the folds of her dress the Elder produced a small parcel. ‘This contains a powder. Every day you must mix a spoonful of this powder into a cup of scalding hot water, and drink it before you go to bed. It will nourish the child as he or she grows. It is very important that you do this, I will not be held responsible for anything which happens if you do not.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">***
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
Elizabeth delivered a baby girl the following spring. They named her Alice, and for two months the household was joyful. But the baby was not as healthy as they had first thought. As time went by she grew thin and fractious. Blue veins showed through her pale skin, and she did nothing but sleep. The family doctor could not find what was wrong, and no amount of food or rest seemed to make her any better.
As luck would have it, the Gypsy clan returned. At her first chance Elizabeth hurried to the camp, a year to the day since her last visit.
It was much busier this time. Food was being cooked and horses were being exercised. Children were making themselves useful by carrying water from the nearby stream, and women combed out long wet hair. A fire burned outside the Elder’s caravan by which sat a small boy, watching steam emerge from the spout of a kettle.
The Elder emerged from the caravan. ‘Crispin!’ she called. The boy turned his head. ‘I’ve told you not to go near that fire when I’m not with you!’
The boy hung his head, ‘I’m sorry, Grandmother.’
The Elder reached the boy and ruffled his hair, ‘Don’t you want to go and play?’ The boy shook his head, one hand grabbing his grandmother’s skirt. ‘Very well. You can stay with me just for now.’
Alice wriggled in Elizabeth’s arms and gave a single, tired cry. The Elder turned, ‘Well, hello again.’
Elizabeth stepped forward, ‘I want you to meet Alice. She was born three months ago. Thank you for helping us.’
The Elder smiled, ‘That is good news. She is healthy?’ When Elizabeth paused, the Elder’s face grew worried. ‘What is wrong?’
Elizabeth cradled her daughter to her chest. ‘Alice is sick.’ she stated. ‘No one can do anything for her.’
‘Come and sit down,’ said the Elder, motioning to a chair by the fire. ‘May I have a look?’
Elizabeth nodded, handing the bundle over, and the Elder peeled back the shawl to examine the baby. Elizabeth watched anxiously as the old lady stroked claw-like fingers over her daughter’s smooth skin.
‘Hmm,’ the Elder frowned. ‘The powder I gave you the day she was conceived. Did you take it as I instructed?’
Blushing slightly, Elizabeth lowered her eyes. ‘I did for the first seven months. Then the kitchen girl mistakenly threw it away. The doctors were happy with how everything was progressing, and we hadn’t had any problems, so I thought it would be alright to leave it…’ She trailed off, unnerved by the intensity of the Elder’s gaze.
‘I never give instructions which are unimportant.’ The Elder spoke each word precisely, as though trying to reign in her temper. ‘That powder would have provided all the nourishment the child needed, and would have made her as human as you or me. That she went the final two months without it… well, other measures must be taken now.’
Frightened, Elizabeth bit her lip. ‘What measures?’
The Elder stood, ‘We will take her into the woods, where we will not be disturbed, and lay her on the soil. She will revert to her natural form, and draw the energy she requires from the earth.’
‘And this will make her better? The damage will be undone?’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The old woman looked sad, ‘Alas, no. She will be better for a while, but then she will wane again. From now on, there will be times when she will have to return to tree form and take what she needs.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Elizabethmso-bidi-font-family:Latha"> hastily wiped away a tear. ‘I understand.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The Elder continued, her face growing even more solemn, ‘There is also the chance that one day she may change and never return to her human form. Perhaps after a shock, an accident… we cannot know. But it is possible.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Elizabethmso-bidi-font-family:Latha"> could barely speak. ‘I will take the chance. Shall we go?’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">‘The Elder turned to her grandson, who had been watching wide-eyed. ‘Crispin, my love, go and wait with Ellyn. She’ll give you some food and watch you until I return. I won’t be long.’
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">The boy nodded, and watched the two women walk into the woods.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">***
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Alicemso-bidi-font-family:Latha"> grew into a normal, healthy child. Periodically she would begin to show signs of illness, and then would perform the transformation and be rejuvenated. Whenever the gypsies made camp by their village Alice would be taken to see the Elder for an examination. Her greatest friend was the Elder’s grandson Crispin, who was devoted to her. His parents had died when he was small, and he had been raised by his grandmother. When he was camped nearby they would walk, fish, play and talk together endlessly.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">Outside of her family Alice’s story was a matter of greatest secrecy, but Crispin was one of the few people who knew it. As a very young child it had been drilled into Alice that she must never, ever mention it to anyone, as she would be shunned by society - or perhaps worse. It was the very reason that Crispin became her closest friend. With him she had nothing to hide.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">It was generally assumed by both Alice’s parents and the gypsy clan that as they grew older the attachment would lessen. They were from different backgrounds which required entirely different things of them. But contrary to all expectations they remained staunch friends. Under normal circumstances Alice’s parents would have forbidden such a friendship from the very off - he was a gypsy, for goodness sake, and a girl of her standing had better things to do with her time than fishing - but Alice’s parents could not bring themselves to forbid the friendship. In any case, the gypsies were there only for a couple of months every summer, what harm could it do?
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">And so Alice and Crispin continued to spend every waking minute of each summer together, and at some point around his thirteenth birthday, Crispin fell quietly and completely in love with her. For two whole weeks he brought her bunches of flowers picked wild, and whilst she exalted in their beauty and scent, by the fifteenth day she still showed no realisation of his feelings. He gave up, and soon Alice forgot the fortnight during which her best friend gave her wild roses every day. Crispin, however, did not.
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">
mso-bidi-font-family:Latha">***
As Alice grew into a woman, Elizabeth began to quietly look for a man who would make a suitable husband for her daughter. Matthew had died two years earlier, and Elizabeth was painfully aware of how old she grew. They had not been young when Alice was born, and Elizabeth was not well. She could not rest easy until Alice was safely married. Elizabeth wished to ensure her daughter’s happiness and security whilst she could, and put the difficulties of Alice’s condition to the back of her mind.
Elizabeth’s efforts paid off. Aged eighteen, at a Christmas party given by her aunt in the neighbouring village, Alice first laid eyes on a young man by the name of William Grant. He was twenty-four, and the owner of a large estate ten miles to the north of Alice’s own home. He was also, as was well known, in possession of a large fortune.
For his part, William noticed the petite young woman in the white dress the moment she entered the room, but it took him three whole dances to ask her to stand up with him. They spent the rest of that night and all the parties thereafter on each other’s arm, and William frequently visited her home and dined with the family. At the end of five months they announced their engagement.
Part 2