Page 62 - WTP Vol. XIII #3

Murderous Wood (continued from preceding page)
nent in ancient Druid ceremonies. Considered sacred by the Arch Druids because in the dead of winter, when all the tall oaks are rough and bare and the world a frozen wasteland, the mistletoe still thrives in the highest branches, green and vibrant without roots in the earth. And thereby the Druids belief that the mistletoe represented the spirit of the tree overcom- ing death.”
“A primitive form of resurrection myth, you mean?” Graves asked.
“Precisely! And that is where the belief arose that mistletoe is spawned by lightning strikes,” Frazer added, pointing at the two lightning bolts embla- zoned across the top of Moore’s ensignia. “The Druids harvested the mistletoe with a scythe at midnight never allowing it to touch the ground less it loses its powers. They made herbs from it with a variety of properties; to encouraged childbirth, to cure falling sicknesses, and in some cases to intoxify and punish transgressors.”
“How punish?” Horwitz asked, getting interested.
“Poisonous intoxication,” he replied. “What in low doses may act medicinally will stupefy and kill at higher dosages. For you see,” he continued, “when the world was young there were warriors revered as gods. Men raised so high and to the utmost peak of human adoration that the commoner, so lowly in his own estimation, felt subjugate in their pres- ence; destiny a simple matter of preserving this fellow as the mystical ‘King of the Wood,’ or on the battle field, our modern General. That is unless the weather turned poorly or a pestilence raged, and then the King was typically taken out and killed before the fickle public, who then selected another delegate to take his place.”
“What does all this gobbedlygook have to do with Colonel Rogers?” Horwitz cried.
“But that’s the rub,” said Frazer pointing his cane at the ceiling like a diminutive Fairy King. “You see I have verified that certain Druidic rituals still take place in Warwickshire England today.”
“That can’t be,” cried Eliot. “Why this is a Christian country. How could shamans worship amongst us?”
“That supposes they ever left, Thomas,” Frazer replied with a tight smile. “For in my travels through the English countryside I have seen great Wicker Men burning on northern heaths, filled with snakes and birds and all manner of woodland animals, enor-
mous sacrificial effigies pulled onto the commons by Christian, God-fearing Englishmen. They usu- ally do this in times of drought, or famine, or war. When the old Christian God seems to be asleep,
or at least turning a deaf ear to their plight. And I’ve also watched prime young English girls,” he continued, “clandestinely climb giant oaks naked by torchlight, to wring the necks of sleeping war- blers and drop them to the ground where they are drained of blood for ritual pagan baths. And I have reports—but have not seen this with my own eyes as yet—of human sacrifices that still exist in the remoter parts of most modern England.”
“This bizarre behavior, following so close
upon Sir James accusation, seemed to push Moore over some invisible preci- pice unseen by any in the room.”
“What preposterous nonsense,” Horwitz shouted. “You’d have us believe that this is all about goblins run amok in the nether clouds.”
“Well, in a way, yes!” Frazer said with a sly grin. “But mostly I think Lieutenant Moore killed Colonel Rodgers because it was something he knew from his Warwickshire days. His Regimental insignia merely a reflection of those rustic beliefs.”
“You’re daft, man,” Moore shouted jumping away from the table. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I may be daft,” Frazer said with equal force. “But you are a criminal. And here is the last bit of evidence that points away from our Hindu warrior here. Whoever cut the swatch of mistletoe down had to
be very determined and used much forethought in gaining it, for he needed to climb a tall oak tree, since the Mistletoe only grows in its highest branches.
And I doubt a murderer not familiar with English woodlands would have bothered. So, I surmise that it would be a European, and not Sergeant Hariaksh,
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