Chapter II.

(Pages 16-29)

Chapter II.

In which the woods are not too whimsical;

Levit retrieves a bauble, the fellows make wishes

Desvot is the first to awake as the smell of burnt steaks assaults his nostrils, Levit has fallen asleep with four equal slices of charcoal placed upon the slab, soon to follow are Humphrey, and now Levit himself awakes as well. Luckily for them only four of the steaks were ruined and the rest grilled just splendidly, though not so soon as they’d have liked them to. Upon finishing them, they mount their steeds and proceed into a denser part of this wood where the trees loom over you and block out the skylight, allowing only a dimmed light to filter through the leaves and light their way.

The path remains simple and straightforward until they come to a fork in the road, separating the two paths a decrepit oak is barren of all foliage and with branches falling. It stands out amongst the lively autumnal coloration of the other leaves around the forest that hang onto their own branches or flutter to the ground. Humphrey stumbles over a heavy stone set in the center of the trail but is quick to catch his feet in front of him.

“Well sir it seems that I am lost. Never have we, or especially I, taken such a path as this to Great Trickle; however, it is far too late to turn back, and this route is supposedly swifter by the duration of a day’s travel – so here we must decide, Gentlemen, whether we shall turn to our rights or otherwise,” Humphrey uses this more commanding tone over his two fellows and continues, “I recommend we take the right and if we further tangle ourselves amongst these labyrinthian forest paths, then we shall regress to this very crossroads again and take trial along this rightward-leading path.”

Levit stands still, staring down the two paths he can feel against himself flowing a benign breeze that while hardly disturbing his hair seems to push him down the leftward path. A man of average-to-astounding intuition, he speaks aloud to his party, “So shall we prospect the rightermost way, and upon our discovery that the trail is naught but a distraction, we shall hie our return to invest time into a more fruitful endeavor that I tell you sirs is this leftermost trail. If thou wilt find this truest not in the cut of thine craft, then thou Wilt upon our inevitable return from this unwished-for rightward-leading path.”

“How sir can one say so definitively the correct route through this winding wood? For last I had pondered the path, our loss and disorientation felt indeed authentic. What makes thou believe this rightmost path to not be that upon which we must travel to emerge from this wood into the glorious candescence of daylight?” Desvot asks with a mouthful of cabbage, his one remaining head of it. Humphrey watches him finish munching this morsel and begins hankering for another éclair that soon he realizes is no longer there.

“Intuition one might say, is more applicable in situations as these than erudition or skill, for such a sense will guide a man of good will to their security and oft even fortune or glory. I implore thee to take this path leftward, and if thou shall not oblige then sobeit I shall follow thee unto our return and trial of this leftward path.”

Humphrey ponders upon this dilemma not much longer before he concludes, “Thus we shall proceed rightward my fellows, and if forward we follow into folly then our return shall be a prompt one.” At this terminating instruction, they follow him rightward into the forest. The path leads straight and shoots steady for many minutes until it begins to naturally wander leftward where it opens up into a clearing. Another fork in the road of the same fashion the other had been; although, instead of approaching the fork this time they enter from the leftmost path of it. Between that and the right, there a decrepit oak is barren of foliage and with branches falling.

“Is it I, or have we managed to walk in a circle?” Desvot says in recognition of the same rotting tree, the same stone that Humphrey had tripped over, and the clone layout of the fork.

“So then shall we,” begins Levit, “follow leftward the path?”

Humphrey contemplates this briefly and comes forth with this decision, “Thus we shall proceed leftward, gentlemen!” Just before they turn around and come back through the path upon which they had departed, arriving back to the same fork where an owl has perched upon a branch of the same decrepit oak. Its head cockeyes, perks, and swivels in place as it hoots at the travelers – what they interpret as laughter in the face of their trivial troubles. Levit lobs a rock at the chortling chump to teach it a lesson – the lesson being that he has terrible aim with such projectiles as the rock soars just over its head and bounces off the tree while the owl stays in place. Humphrey, now Desvot as well follows suit in the stoning of this high-perched harasser as they proceed to blast a bombardment stones themselves at it, each missing until Levit at last lands one on a talon – the owl does not flinch. Humphrey finds another stone and delivers it with such incredible force like a minié ball hurtling toward it. The stone connects with the owl’s chest, knocking it off the branch before it swoops over them, muting over Humphrey’s head and away from view. He takes a spare shirt from his left saddlebag to wipe the white waste from the wee blonde wires known to be his hair. “We shall burn this later,” he says as he inverts and presses it into a ball, finding a spot in his saddlebag where it will not unravel. He pulls out his loaded cigarette holder and matchbook soon to light.

After an idle spell Levit breaks the silence, “Shall we return then from whence we came and try once more from the entry of this tangling treeformed labyrinth?”

Taking this suggestion into consideration, Humphrey concludes, “Indubitably sir we shall return to the entry of this winding wood and walk its course once again to more certainly see through it to the exit.” To which the three or Five (if one takes into account the horses) carry forth down the trail they had apparently first entered upon, and soon enough the path begins winding leftward, again straight forward for a sixth of a mile, one more gradual turn leftward that progresses into a straight path they follow through and come out on the right fork of the exact crossroad they had ventured thrice previously; the trio is confounded.

“I am confident in mine instinct,” Levit begins, “which is that we must follow this leftward path as far as it may lead until it should bring us to the dazzling daylight that shall yet be roaring at the hour of our escape, for we shall come through this wood with such haste and vigor that our security is only confirmed.”

“But Levit sir, what gives thou such confidence in thine words? Brash thou’rt. Wilt thy words bring us lightward, Levit? Can I bestow my faith as well in this instinct of which thou boast such confidence?” Desvot interrogates, finding inside his saddlebag a head of cabbage he had forgotten about, sinking his teeth into its succulent celadon skin.

“Sir Desvot, through mine instinct thou wilt find comfort and solace in this sunlight it will incontrovertibly bring us into the warmth of, and thou Sir Humphrey as well I shall bestow confidence upon in this rectification of route.”

“Sobeit,” Sir Humphrey caves, “we shall quest as further down this leftward path as further may further us, for further forward each path delivers us to naught. I have unfathomable faith in thine instinct Sir Levit, and I will follow it through this forest to the exit where our eyes shall once more greet the glorious skies in their awesome azure. It is at this now that their horses turn back to the left fork and continue into the nagging noon through the wistful wood until they shall later emerge again from the center of the fork, the same tree ahead. Inside a large hole on its trunk Levit briefly observes a faint glimmer that grabs his interest. He flops off the steed’s saddle and searches inside the tree for the source of this sparkling and finds some unknown bauble dangling by a chain from a thick sliver of wood entrenched inside it. He takes out for closer inspection a small metal piece, elliptical in a form of smooth, sheening gold.

“I believe sirs that I have discovered the locket of some long-lost lovers,” he says before opening and inside it seeing the faces of two young adults, a man and woman in love with one another (or at least one with the other). Scavenging deeper inside the tree he finds a paper he unfolds, “and here from him a love poem. It has fourteen lines, so it is most probably a sonnet.” Levit observes the passion exerted into each stroke of the poet’s pen; this poem he has writ to one of the most sincere and gorgeous angels, to his eye yet unrivaled in both beauty and charm. Untitled Sonnet to Faith is writ near the top of the page and he glances past it to what text it entails, such care put into the formation of each letter and every word on the page. “Here Sirs Humphrey and Desvot, I shall read to you the texts of this heartfelt poem from a devoted romantic and lover,” clearing his throat.
                                                                                                                                                 

“Again and now, yon time or trend

In lapses twixt the season ends

In equinotic umbral show’r

When blood shed by a thorned flow’r

Shall skin wear into leper’s flesh,

Once so delicate and fresh

Shall cataclysm encroach our shore

And we are under martial law

Still Venus shall eradiate the sky

And mountaintop for thee and I

For roses bloom and blossoms fall

Thy beauty shall outlast it all

When winter sinks in fangs of sharp

The summer remedies with its impassion’d heart”

            Humphrey and Desvot are astounded by the eloquence of its text and Levit continues, “No wonder he left this poem out here to wither in this tree with locket company, such words do not form even a decent sonnet but a septet of duplets, this lass must have denied his love in response to such amateurish poetry,” he says getting once more trapped inside a complex tangle of thoughts that overwhelms and further prevents him from speaking another word for quite some time.

            “So then leftward we shall,” Sir Humphrey breaks the silence. At this Sir Levit remounts the steed behind him and they continue leftward again until they come once more to the same crossroad, leftward once more down the winding trail deeper and deeper into the wood they come back to the clone crossroad again.

            “It is of no use,” Desvot concedes, “there is no escape from this wood, and we are doomed to wind its wandering trails for all of eternity.”

            Levit breaks his muteness, “Incorrect sir, for my instinct is final and such instinct lies in this leftward path upon which we much continue forth, investing our all.”

            “How come we do not,” Humphrey starts, “Travel direct into the center, through the trees and overgrowth?”

            “For Humphrey sir, I assure thee this leftward path is that which we must take to ever again see the light of day; I insist upon it. We must leftward proceed.”

            “If thou insisteth so grossly, then I must oblige and we shall journey leftward until from this wood we are freed,” Humphrey commands fore they continue their way leftward down the long, winding path to a clearing where they find an old firepit from what travelers had passed there time ago. Humphrey, being struck by pattering pangs of hunger, takes this opportunity to ask his fellows whether their own appetites are sated or starved, “Sir Desvot, Sir Levit, it has been such a harrowing journey through this foul forest and my appetite is aspiring for grandiosities. Dost ye hunger for any food as well? For surplus collops of steaks do remain in these saddlebags for us not but to devour and a chill doth run through this wood so soft yet tortuously where flames would fend off such intemperate qualities.”

            “What a splendid idea Sir Humphrey; one would be blessed to have such practical insight as thine,” Levit says, “for such a hunger has been accumulating in the dank depths of mine own stomach as well; I will set out for kindling immediately,” and without giving any an opportunity to reply, he scurries into the trees in search of what larger branches may be fallen nearby, or even the potential log felled by bear or tree. While Levit continues his stick search, Sirs Humphrey and Desvot dismount their steeds thusforth allowing them to graze in the clearing. Within the span of fifteen minutes Levit returns dragging behind him the corpse of a fallen tree, not so large as those looming o’ertop them, but a tree nonetheless. Another fifteen minutes it takes to then fit it presentably into the firepit, using dead leaves as well as some lichens, tree barks, and Humphrey’s mute-soaked shirt to start the fire. It springs into motion in a matter of moments: the fire has developed into a bursting blaze. The steaks do not turn out near as great as before, and once they’re done eating Levit spies something in the distance.

            “Sir Humphrey, I believe there to be a well cloistered away in yon clearing, shall we investigate it, sir?”

            “Most certainly Sir Levit, for a well could mean a home, and a home could mean people, and people could well mean directions from this forest. Well then, we will inspect this well immediately by your lead; show us where to follow.”

            Sir Levit walks in front of Humphrey and Desvot as they lead their steeds over a thin path through the wood ahead that directs them into a clearing with a withered well and neglected hut of questionable occupancy. They first arrive to the front of the well in dire disrepair – missing bricks, engorged by epiphytes, Levit peers inside and announces, “Well sirs, it seems that my suspicions were correct indeed that this truly is a wishing well, so if ye have any silver that ye would be willing to part with, then let fall into the waters of this well where many its kin will keep company below. Just forget not that ye must make a wish or thy silver will have gone naught but to waste.”

            Desvot takes charge of the first wish, is quick to produce a piece of silver he drops into the well, “I wish for legions of lecherous ladies to lie with me in bed, beit at once or individually, thus is my wish O fountain of fortune, and I trust thee to grant it incontinently.” After this he retreats for the next to make his wish, and that next man to step up to it is Humphrey.

            “Oh spirit of this well, I wish of thee to grant riches upon me and luxuries of such vast wealth; I trust it is in thee to grant this wish O wise one of the fountain, for thou’rt always so generous and caring.” He steps back for the next man to approach; Levit drops a silver coin into the well and speaks his wish not aloud but in his own mind.

            O Lord above hear my plea, for I understand thine power greater than all alleged sorcery on this planet, and my plea magnanimous, loving God is that I Wish thee to bring to my side the fairest Delcita to wed and live the rest of our lives together until we shall turn to dust, and ascended into heaven we shall be joined together again in the pinnacle of paradise. Until then I may only promise her each night by my side to be filled with warmth and the greatest joviality as I am capable of bestowing upon her spirit. I pray for her safety and comfort, for her happiness, chastity, and for her not to lose hope while we journey to her o’er these treacherous trails. Levit drops another three coins into the well on account of his wish feeling much more like many small wishes than one great wish.

            “Oh Levit, sir, what have thou wished for I ask, wealth? Women? Renown? Honor?” Humphrey inquires to which Levit turns the crank of the well, returning from the bottom of which a bucket replete with water.

            “Why I wished for water of course. Art thou not parched?” He sets the bucket by the side of the well filled not with but water, a smattering of silver coins, and several stones. “For at the fire we can boil this infectious fluid into something our bodies may properly digest and not expunge from their stomachs.”

            “But sir, I ask thee, is this thine true wish? Why wouldst thou waste thine silver into the waters of this well over such a simple, stodgy desire for what is already inside its walls to begin with?” Desvot asks, confident in the arrival of the lecherous ladies he had wished for.

            “For let me speak to you Sirs a well-revered piece of knowledge regarding wishing wells; fact being that they do naught but waste thine silver and spread unto you false hope that thy highest human desires may come true, though there truly is one man who can make such fantasies come to being. That is thyself with thine own efforts, and whichever God you praise watching down over you with cordial care.” Levit lets a sigh escape him, “I cannot conceive how many men like ourselves have wasted the fortunes of their exploits on this abysmal well.”

            Desvot being naturally curious as to how much silver must be present at the bottom of this well peeks his head over the wall and gazes down at the assemblage of silver and gold in the bottom of it. He looks back to what few coins made their way to the surface in the bucket, and then back over inside the well. He believes there to be a gemstone amongst the coins but cannot see so clearly as the roof of the well blocks out most the sunlight; he leans in closer to get a better look and half the wall collapses under his weight as he plummets down into the bottom of the well with a resounding Spaloosh; first his body, then the bricks that had broken loose after him accompanied by the sound of what may have been a brick landing on Desvot’s head, but none were watching down the hole, leaving them clueless to his health or well-being.

            “Sir Desvot! Art thou well? Art thou still alive sir?” Humphrey calls, groveling over the ground up to the well, sticking his head over the hole to see Desvot at the bottom wading on a mound of silver coins with his hands pressed atop his head. “Here sir, accept this cigarette; it may relieve some of thine anguish,” he says dropping a cigarette into the well that lands in the water and sinks to the bottom with a match its company.

            “Humphrey, I believe something hath struck my head in the fall and I must rest for a moment before I crawl my way back up from this water. However sirs, I do not believe that I can climb up all myself, so please lower the bucket for me to make mine escape from this aquatic abyss,” Desvot echoes from the bottom the well. He sees next to Humphrey the face of Levit appear gazing down, his ratty brown hair dangles a foot below his face.

            “Art thou well and in good health, Sir Desvot? I hear the force of falling debris hath struck thine head in this hapless descent; hast thou shed any thine blood?”

            “No Sir Levit, I have naught but a bruise it feels, though at the sight of that cursed crimson I shall make thee well-aware of my multiplying misfortunes,” Desvot answers all the while knowing that this must only be the fee for his wish to come into reality. “Although sirs, if ye would be so generous as to descend the bucket into my grasp so that I may escape from this watery grave I have fallen into; for here next to me I see another unlucky traveler who had learned her lesson on much harsher terms than I, as her bones and blouse wither away in the water. I see that lady misfortune as well has broken her left tibia and fibula both, although this injury I believe most probably to be postmortem,” he says stepping off her broken leg.

            “Worry not Sir Desvot, I shall fetch thee thine bucket and descend it upon thee with haste,” Levit exclaims before groveling from the edge of the well and placing the bucket back inside the its circumference, turning the crank as fast as his arms are capable. The bucket, still full of water and a smattering of silver coins, plummets onto Desvot’s head as he is knocked backward onto the lady’s skeleton.

            “Upon closer inspection Sir Humphrey, Sir Levit, I have come to the conclusion that the skeleton has broken also nearly every rib in its body, and that I may indeed be bleeding after all,” echoing up from the bottom of the well. “Give me time to recover sirs,” Desvot says as he pushes the skeleton over to make room, empties the bucket, and begins to collect every gold piece conflated with those of silver around him, “before thou crank this bucket to the surface so I may lie down and dry out.”

            Feeling impatient, Levit takes this opportunity to hover his eyes over the hut nearby them; he is quick to the door and knocks over it a quadrilogy to assure no other is there that may aid them in their trouble, one to apologize to in regard to the broken well, or to provide heat and hospitality. There is no reply, though standing on the covered porch he sees nearby a rocking chair gently begin blowing back and forth. He blames immediately the persisting zephyr running through the wood as it begins to gain pace before slowing again and coming to a complete stop.

            “Sirs, I believe I have effectively collected myself and am prepared for thee to draw the bucket back to the surface if thou wilt whichever one of ye is nearest the crank,” Levit hears echo from the bottom of the well, returning in time to watch the strong Sir Humphrey crank the weight of Desvot Don Davari up from the bottom of the well. It’s not until the bucket is drawn halfway that the well head warps beyond its accustomed straight stature; it, the crank, as all the rest of the wall remaining collapse and plummet into the well.

            “I think I’m okay,” Desvot utters timidly, “I’m not sure that lady misfortune’s bones shall ever be put together again, for not one still can I find intact,” he continues, “I shan’t be needing a new bucket for the one in my hands is still whole.” He sees the form of Levit groveling over the hole where his head pokes over.

            “Fret not Sir Desvot, we shall rescue thee with what resources be present in yonder hut and will pull thee out by nightfall; I swear to it,” Levit drools deep into the well.

            Levit helps Humphrey tie the steed’s leads (not near the length required to rescue Desvot even tied if on end) near the hut where they will be incapable of misstepping into the same pit of misfortune as Desvot. They enter The Hut.

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