The soldiers slammed swords and axes into the bases of the holy druid oaks. Samhain shrieked in pain as if the axes had chopped his knees. The holy trees groaned, whistled, and, with a final chop, thundered to earth. Samhain trembled in the high air. The druid priests, fleeing, stopped and shuddered. Trees fell. The priests, chopped at the ankles, the knees, fell. They were blown over like oaks in a hurricane. “No!” roared Samhain in the high air. “But yes!” cried the Romans. “Now!” The soldiers gave a final mighty blow. And Samhain, God of the Dead, torn at his roots, chopped at his ankles,
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