The Watchman's Garden

By Sally E. Dalglish

It is twenty years since he planted seven thousand trees in the Garden Of Dreams and not one has died. The Watchman’s key that opened the door to the magical garden has been lost to time. Elise commands the Garden, accompanied by Aliya and Kahgahgee the raven. Lulach Thane of Moramor, Justin, Victor, Sam and Basir are joined by Wayne, Alim, Ziya, Ghazi and Sabih on their voyage of adventure and discovery, as they search for what they seek where land and water meet and separate. A magical tale of dreams and hopes raised and dashed, of inspiration, laughter, music and imagination on the quest of the icosahedron that is the key to the Watchman’s Garden. Travels overland to India and the hospitality received in Pakistan inspired this story, which was written in a single sitting and worked on forty years later.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781785072314

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Chapter One

Nothing moved. Not a sound was heard. Darkness and light had not separated. The watchman was there at the beginning of the matter. His countenance was grave. Energy and force were implicit in his thought. He knew before he made a movement the outcome of his action. The instant he produced limitations for himself there would be nothing but repercussions. Any utterance, any definition of it would produce laughter, tears, anguish. The matter began as a serious jest, a tragic gesture. The question was pressing. The inactivity was gloomy. If the question were formulated, it would inevitably invoke an answer. There was only one question of cause, before it fragmented. The question, now a household phrase, forced existence. Existence precipitated life and death. The question of being was sustained by the question of becoming – in the question of existence was the possibility of infinity, but in the question of evolution lay the snags of change and deterioration.

In the moment of equilibrium which preceded action the eternal idea was formulated in a tri-graph. The sound that could not be uttered reconciled the possibilities of action and passivity. The nameless unity became a murmur creating a ripple as slight as the barbule of a feather. But it was enough to shatter the balance of infinity. It was enough to initiate the escalating chain of events and revenues. Reverberating in a wilderness of weeds and dereliction the watchman’s word never ceased to echo. The pain of its distortion never ceased to grieve him, but the ecstasy of creation left him in wonder. He visualised the spiral staircase into the welcoming hall. He planned the pillars, arches, towers and domes that would complete the dwelling, his resting place.

Seven thousand trees he planted in the garden of his dreams. By the fountain where he sat to paint stands the statue of his friend. Gusts of sand brush lightly over where his footprints might have been, sweeping through the insect lanes, disordering their tireless endeavours. The ant, machine-like, applies traction to a minute twig, stumbling, tugging, never tiring, persevering to the end. His loveless goal is order, harmony and concord. His means - co-operation. He has no choice.

‘I am here now,’ Elise called across the shrubbery to the shabby-genteel, though obviously lame thane whose back was turned to her.

‘Eli –Elise,’ he cried, startled from the reverie of one who has seen nothing for a moment. She greeted him with a nod. He bowed. For all his military conquests he was not as fine a manager of his estates as he was tactician in the battlefield. This man could act on the spur of the moment and his decisions were perspicacious; his tenants, however, were not listened to and appeased, nor were their rents collected promptly; sometimes their payments were quite overlooked. His housekeeper was a shrewd woman and if she was, surreptitiously, a burden on his resources, he was not aware of it. His wife was a tempestuous woman and a spendthrift. Elise was as a child and mother to him. She radiated grace, kindled warmth in his heart and lifted his suppressed spirits as she smiled. She had the dignity of one who has discovered both her power and her purpose and reconciled the two.

The thane of Moramar, Lulach by name, lifted his hand towards the growing trees.

‘Your father will be pleased with these,’ he commented. ‘How many oaks have you?’

‘There are twenty-eight species of trees here, two hundred and fifty of each, including the oak. Not one has died in twenty-two years.’

‘Is it so long ago that he left?’

‘Twenty years. Yet I remember him sitting here sketching the fountain, the shrubs and the ants.’

A peacock fluttered, ungainly in its efforts, to rest on the wall above the terrace. The raucous noise of its voice as it stridently summoned its mate, stirred the silence, inviting the cockatoo to compete. Together they watched a snake glide soundlessly over a stone.

‘He saw the underlying harmony within every creature and object and between each part of the garden. We are fortunate still to have his paintings,’ Lulach continued. ‘Elise, show me the harmonies I seek within and around me. If you will not show me, I may not see them.’

Elise smiled. ‘You are impatient. If you dare stay, you may see my dancers and dine with me.’

Lulach glanced up to see a girl of perhaps twenty appear on the steps. They nodded to each other and she spoke to him.

‘I know who you are. I’m Aliya. Where are you staying? At home? Or shall I prepare a room here?’

‘I shall be staying here,’ Lulach replied.

The sun aslant through giant fern fronds threw delicate shadows onto the fine sand as the spiders stopped and darted ceaselessly. Cupped in their earthy bowl, two fishes were visible, swimming aimlessly, until a child stepped into the water of the pool, shattering the glorious reflection of a twilight sun. Dust settled as the breezes fell. The child remembered the air and ran into it from the water, jumped in it and laughed into its gentled currents. Aliya led the three musicians to the place where they would play. The man with the gourd played a rhythm as subtle as the sounds of brook waters tapping pebbles. Three groups of twenty-one dancers appeared wearing the colours of the rainbow. Lulach and Elise were joined by six of her friends. The movements of the dancers and the music of the players were such that colour,