The Tree in the Square

Those of you who know the story of Frendalex will know how the tree in the middle of the market square began to bear fruit. For those of you who don’t, let us just say that the golden fruit that weighed down its branches was as wonderful a sight that your eyes could ever see.

The fruit itself seemed to have life within. They glowed and shone when the sun shined in the square and some said that they glowed even as the sun went down. What is certain however is that the taste of the fruit was so wonderful that when the time came for the golden orbs to drop the whole village would gather to catch the delights.

It was as if the tree knew how much fruit to bear. Each season there was exactly the right amount for everyone in the village to have just enough. The villagers would stay all day and then long into the night talking with each other and sharing in their good fortune and joy

Of course, a wonder like the Tree in the Square can rarely stay a secret. As years passed stories of the wonderful fruit spread into the neighbouring districts and people would come from the surrounding villages to share in the harvest. At first the people of the village were angered by their presence and their ‘greed’ in taking what was rightfully theirs. But the tree seemed to welcome these strangers and there was always enough fruit for everyone and they too would join in the celebrations.

As time passed more people heard of the tree and the wealthy would plan their time at their country homes to coincide with the glorious harvest. Soon richly decorated coaches and horses would come into the small village and fill the square. Soon there was little room for the villagers to have their celebration. Yet still the Tree in the Square would drop enough fruit for all.

Now some of the villagers seeing how much extra wealth the tree brought to their businesses built coaching inns and guesthouses for the rich visitors to stay in. The older shops that the villagers used were forced to shut to make way for the new properties. Finally, the little old Inn that Frendalex had sat in all those many years before was knocked down to make way for a fancy hotel.

It was not long after that the villagers began to feel unwelcome in their own Market Square. Their rough clothes and country ways were not wanted by the new business people who populated the squares shops, inns and hotel.

It was probably around then that more observant people would have seen that the leaves on the tree that had once shined with a verdant green were losing that vibrant colour. But it was not noticed as greedy eyes could only see the wondrous fruit.

So anxious did the traders, shopkeepers and business people become to protect the fruit they erected metal railings around the Tree in the Square so no one could get near until they decided to open the big gates.

It was soon after that the people saw the Tree in the Square was changing. No longer was it guaranteed that there was enough fruit for everyone. At the harvest the villagers were kept to the back to ensure that the wealthy and the ‘well to do’ could get their share, and sometimes more than their share. 

More often than not the poor villagers would leave with nothing. In fact after a few years many of them stopped going. There was little point and they did not enjoy the sight of the rich gorging on the fruit, taking a few bites before throwing the rest to the ground to start again on a fresh fruit.

But the business keepers in the Square did not care about the villagers for money was ringing through their tills. They did not notice that the village no longer gathered together and celebrated. They did not notice that the people were becoming more isolated and lonely. They did not even notice the number of dead leaves that were settling at the base of the Tree in the Square. No, their eyes were focused on a new glorious golden fruit that filled the trays of their tills.

They would sit in the snug of the hotel with their feet up and say to each other. “We deserve our riches for it us that have made this Market Square so profitable. It is us that have improved the buildings and businesses that fill the square and driven out those awful tatty shops. We now have a very high class of customer and our town’s name is known far and wide.”

They even began to think that it was them and not the Tree in the Square that had made the village special. They formed themselves into a council and elected the Hotelkeeper their Mayor. They knew that what was good for them was good for the town. “When we have made enough money then we shall help the poor who used to live in and around the square,” they would say

Sometimes they would whisper to each other, “it’s only an old tatty tree, this town was nothing until we took over” and then they would glance nervously at its branches as if it could hear.

Now the Mayor was gazing out of one of his hotel windows one day when he noticed how few fruit there were on the branches of the tree. Indeed he realized he could see through the branches and leaves to the other side of the square. Normally the rich green leaves had obscured the view and shaded the Square.

He sat on the edge of his bed and thought, ‘if there are that few fruit on the tree I can’t guarantee that my guests will get enough for breakfast, lunch and dinner’. If he didn’t get enough fruit he certainly couldn’t charge the ridiculously large prices he asked for his rooms for he knew in his true heart that it was the wonderful taste of the fruit that intoxicated his guests.

He sat for a few moments and then quietly walked down the staircase to the back yard and picked up the large wooden ladder.

In the morning the Square was filled with people talking quietly and pointing at the tree. Even the villagers who no longer felt welcome in the Square had come to see the disaster. For the tree that had shone bright green and had been covered on every branch, bough and twig with radiant golden fruit stood bare. Not a single fruit was to be seen. People were so concerned that no one troubled to look down to notice a few tell tale marks at the base of the tree.

It was as if the Tree in the Square had just been waiting for everyone to gather before its final act. 

As the Mayor, Aldermen, business people and villagers looked on, the tree suddenly dropped all its leaves. They did not fall as Autumn trees leaves fall, one by one. No they fell together and as they hit the ground a gasp was followed by a tremendous silence that fell over the town.

Some of the elder villagers began to say how they knew that this would happen one day. That the tree had been there as a blessing for all and not just for a few. Soon others began to take up the cry and the Aldermen and business people began to get nervous.

The Mayor, seeing what was happening, stepped up onto a bench and addressed the crowd. “It is clear for all to see what has happened here.”

“You,” he said pointing at the crowd, “have been overusing this tree and its fruit. It needs a rest from your abuse. We the town committee will take what steps are necessary to help our beloved tree recover. But this will not come lightly. We will need to raise a tax to cover the costs of caring for our Tree in the Square which all shall pay as the tree belongs to us all.” 

And with that he stood down and walked back to his hotel pausing only to wink at his fellow Aldermen so that they would understand that the tax would fall lightly on them.

Walking alone the Mayor went to the back of his darkest shed and lifted the lid on a large wooden barrel. He picked out one of the fruit and closed his eyes in anticipation as he bit into soft flesh. Tears sprung into his eyes as the violent sour bitterness filled his mouth. He spat out what remained and threw the core to the floor. He put the lid back on the barrel and nailed it shut. Without looking back he walked into his fine hotel.

As night began to fall on the empty square and the skeleton shadow of the tree stretched across the ground a young village boy stared at the setting sun. He was too young to have seen the tree at it finest but his grandparents had often told him of its wonder and of the story of Frendalex.

His eyes fell upon the tree and he rubbed them but he could still see something. There, sitting on the edge of the Square, were two magnificent golden hares more beautiful than any he had ever seen. It was then he saw they were weeping, their tears dropping from their eyes and onto the soil.

As he looked upon this astonishing sight the hares looked over at him and seemed to nod. Although no words were spoken he somehow knew what they wanted him to do. As the glorious golden hares sprung away the young boy walked over to where they had sat and saw the tiny green shoot.

Bending down he scooped up the still moist soil and carried it and its seed in his cupped hands to the poor farm where he lived with his family. Carefully he placed the soil in the middle of his little garden. 

And here is there story of Frendalex http://spiritofseething.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/the-story-of-frendalex.html