Ruth's First Christmas Tree: A Ruth Galloway Short Story

show-off saint. ‘He sounds as if a bolt of lightning would have done him the power of good.’
    ‘There’s a Christian link too,’ says Cathbad. ‘The evergreen tree symbolizes eternal life. In medieval times it was sometimes called the Paradise Tree.’ He holds up a decoration in the form of an apple. ‘The apples are meant to remind you of the Garden of Eden.’
    ‘They just remind me of apples,’ says Ruth. She has little patience with Christian symbolism. ‘Trees are important to druids too, aren’t they?’ She is thinking of Leaf and Raindrop. Despite everything, she hopes the police don’t catch up with them.
    ‘Yes. The word druid comes from a Celtic word meaning “knowing the oak tree”. It survives in Irish place names like Derry and Kildare. Kildare means “church of oak”.’
    Ruth knows that Cathbad was brought up in Ireland, otherwise his past is as mysterious as the origin of the Christmas tree. They met nearly thirteen years ago when Ruth was excavating a wooden henge found on the beach at the Saltmarsh. Cathbad and his fellow druids were protesting about the removal of the timbers. They were meant for the open air, they said, for the wind and the rain, part of the ebb and flow of the tide. But the authorities had prevailed and the remains of the henge are kept in controlled conditions inside a Norfolk museum. Looking at Cathbad now as he carefully sorts through the baubles, Ruth feels a surge of affection for him. They have been through a lot together, one way or another.
    ‘Of course,’ he is saying, ‘trees are important in all religions. Christ was killed by being hung on a tree. And Odin sacrificed himself on the world tree.’
    ‘Yggdrasil,’ says Ruth. She remembers another henge discovered nearby that had a tree buried upside down in the middle of it. Archaeologists had thought at the time that this might represent Yggdrasil, the great ash that, in Norse mythology, links heaven and hell.
    ‘I must go to the museum,’ she says. ‘I haven’t seen the henge for ages.’
    ‘I was there the other day,’ says Cathbad. ‘Do you remember old Driffield, the curator?’
    Ruth remembers a gentle old man who had made the installation of the henge timbers a more tranquil process than they had feared. It was a complicated business; the huge wooden posts that made up the henge circle had to be immersed in fresh water to remove the salt. Then, over the years, the moisture would be replaced with wax preservative.
    ‘Dear old Driff,’ says Ruth. ‘How is he?’
    ‘Not well.’ Cathbad looks away. ‘He’s in hospital with pneumonia. Doesn’t look good at his age. They lost a piece of wood from the henge, you know. I think it’s linked to his illness.’
    Ruth stares at Cathbad. Just when he’s being fairly normal, he comes out with something like this.
    ‘How could they lose one of the timbers? They’re huge.’
    ‘This was a tiny piece. A peg really, used to keep one of the posts in place.’
    And, thinking back, Ruth remembers this piece of the puzzle. A small sliver of oak, valuable because of the presence of a neatly cut square hole, clearly meant for the linchpin of a wheel. This showed that the wood had been part of an axle before being pressed into service to support the post. It’s a loss indeed. But there was another strange thing about Cathbad’s statement.
    ‘What do you mean, “linked to his illness”?’
    ‘There are lots of stories about men’s lives being linked to trees. Take the Egyptian
Tale of Two Brothers
. One brother leaves his heart in an acacia tree, and when it’s cut down, he dies.’
    ‘He leaves his heart in an acacia tree?’
    ‘It’s just one example,’ says Cathbad, rather huffily. ‘There are lots of others. People hang gifts from the branches of trees as offerings to the gods. Garlands and ribbons are tied to trees to bring good luck. Think of “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree”.’
    ‘I try not to,’ says Ruth. ‘You think Driff is ill because the peg went missing? How did that happen anyway?’
    ‘They had a big conference, lots of bigwigs there, including your boss Phil. They were looking at some of the smaller artefacts, and when they came to put them away, the peg was missing. Driff was really upset. Thought it was all his fault. The next day, he got ill.’
    Ruth is registering the fact that she didn’t know about this conference whereas Phil, who was not even involved in the henge dig, was evidently a