Thirteen

George was limping across the room, when Plato visited him two days later.

“George!” Plato called.

“Hello, Plato, I’m testing my strength. I don’t know what potion Tawny Owl has been giving me but it’s working wonders with me already. The pain has eased and I feel brighter. I reckon I’ll be good as new soon and, Plato, you saved my life. Tawny Owl told me. Thank you. How are the butterflies?”

“They’re fine and so are the bumblebees. They like it here and they’ve decided to stay on.” Then Plato turned serious. “The ladybirds’ trial will take place tomorrow. Thelma wants it over and done with before the spring celebration. You’re still very frail, George, but I ought to ask you: do you want to attend the trial?”

He stared at George, waiting for his answer, and in his eyes Plato saw that the terror was still with him and he wished he hadn’t asked. George’s body suddenly shook and as the horrific scenes on the gorge flashed across his mind, his eyes turned wild and husky screams came out of his mouth. “No! No!” Then he went still, staring at the blank wall.

A worried-looking Tawny Owl rushed in. Shaking her head, she gave Plato a long scowling glare that said. You ignored my warning.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, George. It was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry,” Plato said regretfully.

“You don’t have to apologise, Plato,” George said and came to stand in front of him. “I can’t bring myself to even look at that evil creature, let alone be in the Hall with her.”

There was a light tap on the door and Thelma peered inside.

“Thelma!” George exclaimed. “It’s good of you to come.” His wild eyes had softened and a calmer expression spread across his face.

“It’s good to see you’re on the mend, George,” she said. “Everyone is wishing you well and hopes to see you out and about soon.”

Plato fixed her with a glance and immediately Thelma grasped its meaning. “Tawny Owl will be starting her hospital round any minute now, so it’s time we went, George. We’ll see you again soon,” she said and followed Plato out of the room.

***

The trial would be held at the Music Hall. As it was too small to hold every single creature of Blossom Valley, the head of each family would pick twelve adult members of mixed gender. They were told what tier they would be sitting in and that disciplined behaviour should be observed at all times.

When the double doors of the Music Hall were thrown open, the creatures entered in orderly fashion and took their places. On the top tier sat the members of all the bird families. In the next tier down sat the squirrels, rabbits and hedgehogs, then the ants, Speedo the snail and next to him, Conti the frog. On the first tier sat Thelma and Orpheo, the butterfly prince, then Gloria the bumblebee and her girls. On the far right of the row, tight-lipped, and stormy-faced sat Rosa, the ladybird. The butterflies were kept at the ant village where a number of magpies where scattered on the ground, and in the trees and bushes to guard their safety.

On the small stage of the Music Hall stood a desk with a high chair behind it where the judge, Plato the owl, was seated.

Stony-faced, wings folded across his chest, Plato stared towards the entrance as the guards, two stout magpies, brought the ladybirds in. Everyone up in the seats craned their necks and tilted their heads left and right to get a good view of them as they stood to face the judge. Heather stood at the front, one guard on either side of her, and her young sisters stood behind. Plato rested his stern eyes on Heather and spoke.

“Ladybird Heather, you are here to be tried for the wicked deed you committed. You cunningly lured the innocent, gullible butterflies out onto Devil’s Gorge with the intention of killing them, but not before you put them through a terrifying ordeal. George the crow, with the bumblebees’ help, saved the butterflies from a cruel death. Sadly, George can’t be here to tell us what happened as he’s been very ill in hospital because of you. The bumblebees saw enough, but it is you and your sisters who know exactly what took place on the gorge, and we are ready to listen.”

“The bumblebees treated us horribly,” Heather shrieked, casting a hate-filled glare at Glo. “We did nothing wrong, we were playing a game and having fun.”

“Describe to us, Ladybird Heather, the game you were playing that was such great fun,” Plato demanded.

“Hold on,” Rosa blurted out. “My daughter told you, you play a game to have fun. A game is a game and we all know what fun is. What more do you want?”

“The question is not for you, to answer Rosa, so sit down please,” Plato said in a calm but commanding voice.

“No, I won’t,” Rosa snarled. “And you, learned judge that you are, have a duty to listen and take note to what the defence tells you. Firstly, my Heather is a kind being. She can be loud and rough at times, but she means no harm. Secondly, I never allowed my daughters to fly outside the valley. I don’t know where Devil’s Gorge is, so how would any of my daughters know? You, you know-all owl, should know that ladybirds, especially us five spot species, don’t fly to such heights as only birds can reach. It was the crow who led the butterflies out on the gorge. My daughters simply followed. Once there, he coaxed them into playing games while he hid in the bushes. What he had in mind was to come out and kill them. Why? Cause he’s evil. All crows are. Witches’ best mates,” she hissed through closed lips.

It did not straightaway dawn on the creatures that the crow Rosa was talking about was George and they looked at one another with a confused expression in their eyes.

Plato choked up with horror and it took him a while before he could get the words out of his mouth. “What did you say?”

“What? ... What?” the crows yelled their eyes widening in total disbelief. “Does she mean it was George?” Then an outburst of raging carks shook the entire Hall. “Get her out of here,” the crows kept carking.

“Chuck her out!” the blackbirds and sparrows protested in deafening whooping cries.

The din roared inside Plato’s head and sent it spinning. He rubbed his temples and took long calming breaths.

“Order, Order! Everyone!” he shouted.

After the din had died down, the creatures lapsed into dismal silence. The rabbits, sensitive to this kind of behaviour, were gripped by continuous snuffles and tears, but stopped as everyone gave them funny looks. Afterwards, they scratched their ears until they bled, then groaned with pain. The red squirrels snorted, darting their heads up and down left and right non- stop. The hedgehogs gawked at the squirrels then rolled up on their seats and did not move. The ants let out a series of tiny grunts and Speedo the snail stared at Conti next to him then gave a quivering shrill cry and scooted into his shell. Conti the frog, eyes bulging out of his head, sat chewing on his tongue jabbering. All of a sudden he jumped up like a jack-in-the- box and, still jabbering, took some huge leaps over the seats and landed in front of Plato. He rolled his cloudy eyes and spluttered. “You, of all creatures Plato, shouldn’t allow her to tell such sickening lies about George. Kick her out at once!”

“Kick her out, Kick her out!” All the creatures stood up and joined in.

“Please be quiet! You too, Conti,” Plato ordered.

“No, I won’t,” Conti croaked stubbornly, “cause George is my buddy and I know he wouldn’t hurt a dead fly. He’s the kindest creature in the whole wide world.” His head drooping and tears rolling down his cheeks, Conti hopped back to his seat.

There fell a spell of gloomy silence until Rosa’s screechy voice filled the hall. “Ask the crow. Go on, ask him. But you can’t, can you, Owl? cause he can’t speak. He’s in a coma which means he’s as good as dead.” She curled her lips into a sly grin. “I know, cause nothing escapes me. I heard the old owl nurse tell you. The crow is going to die and whatever he saw out there will go with him to his grave.”

“Heinous ladybird! “ Plato’s voice echoed across the hall. “Guard your tongue or leave at once.”

“I’m not done yet,” she grunted and carried on. “The bumblebees flew there cause they heard the crow yelling at the butterflies and heard my poor Heather screaming with fright. When they realised the crow was about to kill them, they stung him on the neck to numb him then pushed him over the edge and onto the brambles. Now you’ve got the whole picture of what happened on the gorge and I’m done.”

There wasn’t a single cough, whisper or shuffle in the hall. They all sat rigid on their seats, gobsmacked and horror stricken.

Conti hopped quietly onto the tier above his and tapped Bond the red squirrel on his back.

“Hear, hear!” he whispered. “George isn’t in a coma. He was, but he’s awake now and recovering. My buddy isn’t going to die. Pass it on to the crows and tell them to keep it to themselves and, if you want to know what a coma is, it’s when we fall into a very deep sleep and can’t wake up. Tawny Owl explained it to me. I was at his bedside, determined to tell him the dream I had. He was in it, and I reckon that did it. My dream pulled him out of his coma. Tawny Owl was very happy that I did.”

After a short and dismal silence, Plato coughed to clear his throat and spoke.

“Ladybird Rosa, You’ve been defending your daughter for some few minutes now. You described scenes that took place on Devil’s Gorge in detail, as if you were there. But you weren’t, were you, ladybird Rosa? We have witnesses who on that morning saw you inside the valley, moving secretively about and, to speak more plainly, lurking around the butterflies’ pen.”

“I was on the gorge, not inside the valley,” Rosa shrieked.

“Liar, Liar!” Glo shouted. “How come we didn’t see you up there? Liar! You’re not only poisonous and vile, you’re sick in the head.” She filled her cheeks with air, let it out with a loud whistling sound and flew at Rosa.

“Bumblebee Gloria, return to you seat please,” Plato ordered. “We do not allow violent behaviour during a trial. Solve your differences outside the hall.”

There was a short pause before Plato spoke again.

“Will Heather’s sister come to the front, please?”

A pretty ladybird, her wings shell a glossy red, lowered her head in a polite bow. “I’m Daisy,” she said, “and behind me is my younger sister Po...”

“Be careful Daisy, my treasure,” Rosa blurted out in a softened voice. “Don’t let the old owl lead you on. You must protect your sister, our Heather.”

The young ladybird looked right into Plato’s eyes, her voice steady and clear now and repeated. “I’m Daisy, and behind me is my younger sister, Poppy, and we are not Rosa’s daughters. Heather is, and she did it. She and her mother plotted the whole thing. Heather had tried the hypnotic power of the sleeping weed on some meadow ladybirds. It had worked, she told us. The meadow ladybirds, who she called common and worthless, had gone over the edge of the gorge and perished in the brambles. She was jealous of the butterflies’ beauty and loathed Thelma for the way she fawned over them. She did some dreadful things to the butterflies. We begged her to stop and she threatened to kill us, didn’t she, Poppy?”

Poppy couldn’t utter a word.

“Poppy?” her sister demanded.

“She did,” Poppy stammered. “We’re sorry we couldn’t stop her...” The young ladybird choked on her tears and sat down.

“You ungrateful creatures,” Rosa said, breaking into fake hysterics. “After all I’ve done for you, is this how you repay me?” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed on and on.

“Yes it is,” Daisy answered firmly. “You told us we were strays and a merciful being that you were you’d take care of us. Instead, all you gave us was fear and punishment.” Then Daisy broke down with emotion.

Sadness gripped the silent Music Hall. Only Conti’s loud sniffles and hiccups could be heard. Plato let out a long sigh and, standing up, spoke in a sombre voice. “Fellow creatures, are you ready to give your judgement?”

“Yes we are,” they shouted.

“Only the head of each family will answer my question. Do you judge the ladybirds Daisy and Poppy to be innocent or guilty?”

“Innocent!” shouted the family heads at the top of their voices.

“Do you judge Ladybird Heather to be innocent or guilty?”

“Guilty!”

The entire hall rocked as all the creatures stood up yelling angrily, “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”

“Thank you,” Plato called. “Please seat down.” Then he fixed his gaze upon Heather, searching for signs of remorse, but what he saw in her eyes was malice, darkness and ill will that seemed to be coming from deep inside her.

“Ladybird Heather,” he said, “you have been found guilty of a dreadful deed, and for this reason you are banished from Blossom Valley. You’ll be taken far beyond the hills and plains, so far that you’ll never find your way back. Guards, take her away.”

“Liars, liars...!” Rosa raved. “What’s banishment, huh? You’re going to kill her. Say it clearly. Murderers! You’ll kill my beautiful daughter, and you”- her searing eyes stopped at Thelma - “you, wretched spider, listen to my words cause you’ll hear them only once. I vow revenge on you and your precious butterflies.” Foam flecked the corners of her mouth and her eyes blazed with such raging hatred that Thelma shrank back, shivering.

While Heather was shrieking, pushing and kicking to wrench herself free from the guards, Rosa stormed out of the hall. She filled her lungs with gulps of fresh air then hid under a nearby cluster of bluebells.