Out of the Forest

They still speak of Matthias in the village that once stood on the
edge of the Great Forest. Now all that remains of that ancient
greenwood are well-managed copses and isolated trees, but when Matthias
lived and worked there it was a wilderness stretching further than any
man could journey. Some said it had no end, that it unfolded to the
very edge of the world.

Few of the villagers dared venture into its dense shade for it had a
reputation as a very dangerous place. Wolves and bears hunted there.
Bogs and mires could seize the unwary traveller stepping off the path.
These were known and spoken off to warn off the foolhardy explorer but
unknown and unnameable perils were also hinted at.

But Matthias was a woodsman and the forest was his workplace. As the
village grew he and his fellow woodsmen had to venture further and
further into its shadowy depths to find the timber they needed; far
from everything they held dear - families, friends, animals - and far
from everything that was familiar. They shared the common fear of the
forest but the need for timber and prospect of a good profit overcame
their misgivings.

On this particular expedition they set up camp beside a good stand of
oak and began their work. Labouring from dawn until dusk - hewing,
trimming and sawing - they transformed the great trees into saleable
timber. Here before them lay the roof timbers of new buildings, the
fence posts for new farms. Their world was expanding and it would be
constructed on the timber they hauled into the village when their work
was done. Absorbed by their work, the fears of the forest were almost
forgotten but every so often they would catch one of their company
looking over his shoulder or starting at the crack of a branch.

The day's work done they built a huge fire from brushwood to keep them
warm through the cold Autumn night. Or so they said. Drawing together
to sing and laugh and tell stories in loud voices they shut out the
forest around them where the light from the flickering flames danced
with the shadows through the trees.

It was during one of these nights that something happened to Matthias,
something that was to change him forever and make his name live on to
this day in story and song.

Before the sun had set they had felled a giant oak tree. Such a tree
would keep them for they rest of the year. Tomorrow they would begin to
work the wealth from its fallen corpse. At least three day's labour lay
ahead of them. They sat around their fire that night imagining their
futures with the money they would make, untroubled by the fears of the
forest.

In the morning Matthias prodded the embers into life and woke the
others. He was eager to begin work on the mighty tree. But when they
reached the spot where the oak had fallen they could not believe their
eyes. Were they still dreaming? Had they lost their way and found some
other company's work? For there was the oak, not fallen in a mass of
splintered branches, but stripped, sawn and loaded onto trestles ready
for transport. There was the bark piled into baskets ready for the
tanner. There were the charcoal fires already burning. At first they
gazed in silence at the wonder, then burst excitedly into speech.

"Who could have done this?"

"No-one in a night's work."

"Have we been dreaming? Have we worked three days and forgotten?"

"Are we dreaming now?"

"This is not our work," said Matthias. "I'd recognise my own axe marks
and these
are not mine."

"Surely, we would have heard something in the night?"

"As tired as we were this would have woken us."

"Unless we were bewitched."

"This is no natural work, that's for sure."

"But why do we care? There's three day's work done here in a night.
And there's no-one here to claim it. Let's be grateful for our good
fortune."

Only Matthias spoke cautiously. "But whoever did this work will not
take kindly to us stealing their labour. Mark my words, a price will be
paid."

"But we left our mark on the oak. Any woodsman knows the forest law -
the tree is ours. I say we claim it now and damn the
consequences."

The company fell silent. Only the drifting breeze in the topsails of
the forest canopy and the twitting of small birds amongst its rigging
disturbed their contemplation. The others looked at Matthias. He nodded
and without another word they began the task of carrying home their
booty.

The woodsmen made a great profit from their prize and. despite much
questioning as to how quickly they had returned with such a bounty,
they never once revealed how they had chanced upon it. Even Matthias
began to accept it simply as a stroke of luck that would not
necessarily bring retribution. "Anything that has brought us such good
fortune must be the work of the Almighty," he said. "Perhaps it is a
reward for our past good conduct."

Once his mind was settled in this way he began to enjoy himself. He
ate well, repaired the roof of his house, bought a plot of land beside
the river so that he could grow a good crop of potatoes and fish to his
heart's content. Except, that his heart was not content.

"I'm tired of living alone," he declared. "A man in my position needs
a wife, a companion. I must start a family so that this wealth can be
preserved through generations to come." Considering the unmarried women
of the village his thoughts turned to Elizabeth, the blacksmith's
daughter. One day he showed her his new roof, took her down to admire
his potato crop and asked her to marry him. Everything was agreed. The
marriage would take place when Matthias returned from his next
expedition into the forest.

The night before their departure the woodsmen met together and talked
about the mighty oak and its miraculous transformation.

"Let's hope it happens again," said one. "The less work we do the
better as far as I'm concerned."

"I'm not so sure," said another. "We might have just been lucky last
time."

"We were lucky, that's the point," said a third. "And if we get lucky
again it'll be the last trip I'll need to make into that damned
forest."

"I still think there may be a price to pay," said the doubter. " Good
fortune always comes with a price tag attached."

"But who will collect?"

This question went unanswered. In truth, it was not a question they
really wished to consider. If they began to draw out answers they might
never venture into the forest again.

Matthias kept silent throughout this discussion. Although he had
accepted the good fortune given to them it did not rest easy on his
shoulder. His was an inquiring mind that grew impatient to know the
truth. If it were to happen again, he had decided, he would be there to
see it happen.

Back in the forest they worked half-heartedly for three days while
waiting for the longed-for miracle. Then they found what they were
looking for - a magnificent oak, even bigger than the one they had
felled the previous year. It stood alone, the ruler of its own domain,
in a clearing cloaked by its dense canopy of leaves. The woodsmen were
awed by its stature and symmetry but their instinctive respect was
swept away by dreams of success.

All day they worked, turn and turn about. Their axes needed constant
sharpening as the oak fiercely resisted their assault but gradually
they prevailed. As the sun began to sink the mighty tree yielded and
fell to the forest floor with a thunderous crash. For a long time the
woodsmen did not move, letting the echo of the fall reverberate through
the glades. Each now shared the common thought: "Would they wake to
find their work completed in the morning?" Only Matthias stood apart,
his resolution wrangling with an icy dread that gripped his soul.

As the others collected up their tools and turned towards the safety
of the campfire where exhaustion would swallow up their curiosity,
Matthias slipped away into the undergrowth. Soon it was dark and he
tasted the bitter cup of solitude. Cut him off from his companions by
the darkness, the world he knew had disappeared. Perhaps he would never
see his village again, he thought. Perhaps it no longer existed. What a
fool he was to undertake such a foolish adventure. Why couldn't he have
accepted things like the others? He tried to pray for strength and
protection but no words came.

Matthias' companions had been so tired when they returned to their
camp that they hadn't even noticed his absence. Now they slept soundly,
kept warm by the embers of the dying fire. But suddenly their sleep was
shattered by a scream that ran through the trees like a wounded animal.
They hastily threw some brushwood on the fire and as it roared into
life they heard the scream again, louder this time, closer, accompanied
by the snap of branches and the tearing of briars. As they prepared to
flee they saw Matthias stumble into the firelight.

His whole body shook. His eyes were wide with terror. He fought for
breath. He made wild gestures, pointing into the forest and made
untamed sounds that only gradually formed into words as his story
emerged in fragments.

From his hiding place he had seen the moon rise above the trees sending
a shaft of light into the clearing created by the felling of the oak.
He had wondered how long it had been since moonlight had last fallen on
that leafy ground. But the sight of a figure moving silently through
the splintered branches interrupted this reflection. Nimble and quick,
it moved so speedily that it sometimes seemed to merge into the shadows
but only something solid and substantial could have snapped the
branches of the tree with such ease.

"But who was it?" his companions asked. "Who could have done such
things?"

Matthias was calm now. He saw the fear of retribution in his friends'
eyes as they pressed him to reveal more.

"It was like a man but bigger than any man I have ever seen with
muscular arms that promised great strength. A giant that could have
held a bushel of corn in each hand. And yet it was so agile that it
slipped in and out of the branches like a shadow."

"What did it look like?"

"It was hairy like an animal. Dense black hair covered its body and
even the face -hiding its features." Mathias paused as if unwilling to
go on. "Only the eyes could be seen."

"Did it spot you, Matthias? How did you escape?" They all seemed to
speak together.

"It looked towards me. Its eyes were dark and deep. It seemed to look
right into my soul. I cried out. I couldn't help it. I feared for my
life and then I fled to save it."

The woodsmen peered anxiously into the surrounding dark half-expecting
to see the creature lumber out of the shadows at any moment.

"Did it follow you, Matthias?" one asked.

"I didn't look back. Would you?" he replied before collapsing beside
the fire.

Dawn brought them a measure of relief. They decided that the creature
was a thing of the night and was unlikely to appear once the sun had
risen. Cautiously returning to where the oak had lain they found, just
as before, the wood all neatly cut, sawn, stacked and ready to pull
home.

"You didn't disturb his work, Matthias," said one. "He's done a good
job."

"What shall we do?" said another.

"What we did before. This creature means us no harm or he would have
followed Matthias last night."

"This is a gift to us. I say we take this wood and thank him our
prayers tonight."

"And shall we tell the village where it came from?"

"Who would believe us?"

"Better the secret stays with us."

"What do you say, Matthias?"

Matthias did not reply. He stared into the forest, his eyes searching
for the creature that had looked into his soul. The others hesitated,
glancing at each other and wondering what he might do now. Wondering
what thoughts ran through his head.

Later on they would think back to that moment and say that Matthias was
never the same again. He lost all his confidence. A dark shadow often
fell across his face and deep furrows marked his brow. His humour
became so gloomy that the villages began to avoid him. His fianc?e,
declaring that he was no longer the man he had been, broke off their
engagement.

The other woodsmen tried to help Matthias but he refused their aid. He
carried a secret and could not share it. But one day they persuaded him
to speak out.

"Since that night in the forest I am no longer alone. The creature has
followed me and does not leave my side. It sits on my shoulder when I
walk in the village though it weighs no more than a handful of dry
leaves. When I sit by the fire it squats in the hearth. When I sit at
my table it lays an extra place. When I try to escape into sleep it
crouches on the bed head."

"You're imagining it," his friends declared. "There's nothing
there."

"Then only I can see it," said Matthias and his misery seemed to deepen
at the thought.

"Does it harm you?" they asked.

"No. It does me no harm. Indeed, it helps me in many ways - digging my
garden, sweeping my house, fetching my firewood - I want for nothing
when it's with me. But it haunts me so - every waking hour. I am never
alone. Can you imagine what it's like to be never alone?"

Matthias' friends, being companionable souls, could not imagine and
found it hard to believe what he'd told them. But then they thought
back to his terror in the forest.

"His wits have been turned by the sight of the creature," they
decided.

"He can't get it out of his mind and now he imagines it with
him."

"We must be careful. If he tells the village what happened there'll be
plenty who'll tar us with the brush of madness too."

"Then we must tell the story first and set ourselves apart from him.
They'll see him for what he has become - a madman."

The villagers laughed at the thought of Matthias with a hairy creature
squatting on his shoulder. They crept up behind him in the street and
asked to be introduced to his shaggy friend. At first his angry
outbursts entertained them but they soon grew tired of this and
withdrew, leaving him to his solitary existence. Freed from his secret
he felt no qualms about talking to the creature. It never replied but
listened well and the sight of Matthias wandering through the village
talking to himself made the villagers shun him even more.

As his manner became more and more eccentric parents used him to rebuke
their children when they misbehaved: "You be good or Matthias will come
and get you!" But the children knew him too well to be scared. They
would follow him up and down the street singing their taunting song -
which is still sung in the village playground today:

Matty Matty Madman
Monster on his shoulder
Marching up and down the street
Like a chocolate soldier

Now he was truly alone and he began to hate the creature that was his
only companion.

Although the creature saw to all his needs - crops would be harvested
as he slept, water drawn from the well whenever he was thirsty, logs
stacked in his hearth - his old life still drew him into the forest. In
truth, he half-hoped that the creature would sense the freedom of the
wildwood, slip off his shoulder and leave him in peace.

His was finished as woodsman because no-one would work with him but he
kept his axe clean and sharp as a reminder of his former life. He would
cut firewood for the creature to carry home for him but as age advanced
he began to lose his woodcutting skills. He no longer cut cleanly; no
longer saw the grain clearly. Sometimes his aim failed him completely.
It was as if the years of carrying the creature on his shoulder had
sapped the life out of him.

And so it happened that, one day whilst coppicing a hazel, he
misjudged his swing completely and the fawn's foot at the end of the
axe's haft slipped from his feeble fingers. Without looking up he knew
that the head had struck the creature. Matthias froze, horrified by
what he had done. As if in a dream he watched a few drops of blood
stain his shirt, deep, red blood, deeper and redder than he had ever
seen before.

Slowly he turned to see how badly the creature was hurt but there was
nothing there. He looked for a trail of blood but there was none. He
cried out in sorrow, begging its forgiveness, but there was no reply. A
heavy silence hung beneath the whispering leaves of the forest canopy.
All that remained of the creature were the spots of blood on Matthias'
shirt.

He stood alone in the forest, alone at last. For so many years he had
longed for this isolation but now he found he could not enjoy it. He
felt as though his heart had been emptied out onto the forest floor as
he realised that he had lost the only friend he had.

When he returned to the village he tried to tell the villagers that the
creature had gone but no-one would believe him. They had rejected him
for so long they couldn't change now. The children still sang Mattie
Madman after him in the street and so he retired to his cottage and hid
himself away from the world.

Without the creature to tend it the garden soon became overgrown with
briars, shrubs and small trees until the cottage could barely be seen.
Mathias was all but forgotten until one of his old companions in a fit
of conscience decided to visit him. After hacking his way through the
undergrowth he pushed open the rotting front door. Inside it was cold
and damp; no sunlight had swept the windowsills for many years. "Just
like a tomb!" he would say later. But of Mathias or his trusty axe
there was not a sign.