The Field of the Cloth of Gold Page 14

  Resistance was futile: Hogust surrendered without uttering a word.

  The whole of the north now lay wide open to Isabella, and she swiftly extracted a promise of support from Hartopp.

  Brigant, on the other hand, presented a far greater challenge. His list of objections was inexhaustible: they were based on an inherent mistrust of outsiders (even those approved by Isabella were under suspicion); a disdain for public meetings (because they attracted rowdy elements); and a sense of indignation at having to ‘traipse’ all the way to the south-east.

  ‘Well, if you don’t want to come along I can’t compel you,’ said Isabella, ‘but it’s a great shame you won’t hear Hippo’s story.’

  ‘That’s my lookout,’ replied Brigant. ‘Besides, I haven’t said I’m not coming yet.’

  ‘So there’s still hope then?’ she asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe not.’

  Needless to say, Isabella didn’t bother summoning me to the gathering. She must have seen me standing by my tent as she made her way homeward again, but she avoided my gaze and fixed her sights on Hen instead. According to subsequent reports, he assured her that he would do his very best to attend; then he happened to enquire whether she’d be calling on Yadegarian and the other settlers in the south-west.

  ‘Definitely not!’ she snapped. ‘Hippo says they’re beyond redemption!’

  Hen was quite shocked by the outburst, and when I met him the next day he still hadn’t fully recovered.

  ‘I only asked,’ he said, in a subdued tone, ‘but she practically jumped down my throat.’

  He told me he still felt rather protective towards Yadegarian’s people, in spite of their outlandish customs; and I confided that I felt a certain empathy with them as well.

  ‘Sounds as if Hippo has made a deep impression on Isabella,’ I remarked. ‘She’s not usually swayed by the judgement of others.’

  ‘No,’ said Hen.

  ‘So I’ll be intrigued to hear this story of his.’

  ‘You’re going to the meeting then?’

  ‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been officially invited, but I should be able to mingle unnoticed with the crowd.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I’ve changed my mind,’ said Hen. ‘I think Hippo’s going to spoil everything.’

  He turned and stared gloomily into the south-west, as if contemplating some grim premonition. After a moment, however, I realized he was studying the immense black clouds which were accumulating on the horizon. I also noticed the breeze had begun to pick up a little. There was obviously a rainstorm blowing in, and it struck me as an inauspicious day to be holding a public assembly. I estimated we had two or three hours at the most, and then we’d be in for a downpour.

  Not that anyone seemed remotely interested in the weather. The meeting had been set for ten o’clock in front of the shimmering white tent, and groups of people were already starting to arrive. Hartopp and his followers initially appeared slightly cautious, but Isabella made a special point of greeting them and quickly put them at their ease. Hogust’s comrades were far less diffident: noisy and disruptive as ever, they swarmed over the turf wall like an invasion force bent on conquest. Somehow, though, they managed to restrain themselves from their usual excesses, and did nothing worse than leer at the local residents. Hogust, meanwhile, had chosen to travel to the south-east by boat. He cruised down the river under full sail, and came ashore (without paying) at Hollis’s landing stage. Watched closely by Horsefall’s men, he strutted amongst the vast range of tents, pretending to inspect them as he passed them by. It was a cocksure display: plainly Hogust wished to put his stamp on the proceedings.

  By this time I’d slipped quietly into the crowd, near the back. Beside me stood Brigant, who’d turned up at the last minute insisting he was present as a strictly neutral observer. As far as I could tell, the only absentees were Hen (for reasons of his own) and Yadegarian (who’d been explicitly banned from attending). It was quite a gathering, with numerous people packed together in a small space, and I wondered how Hippo planned to address everybody. When I craned my neck, however, I caught a glimpse of a low, wooden platform ideal for such an occasion (I later learnt that it had been built, for a fee, by Hollis). I had to admit I was impressed by the efficient organization of the meeting, and when Hippo made his entrance it was equally clear that he was very well-rehearsed.

  At ten o’clock precisely a joyous cry went up, the crowd parted, and Hippo approached from the rear. The effect of an imaginary door opening before him was not lost on anybody, but the real coup de théâtre came when he mounted the platform. He was wrapped in his habitual coarse blanket, which he suddenly threw off to reveal that underneath he wore only a loincloth! The audience gasped; then he raised his arms for silence.

  ‘You may not know it,’ he began, ‘but this is the chosen field: the place where great events unfold and come to fruition. If you take good care of it, treasure it, and act as its custodians, then you will surely reap the rewards.’

  He paused to allow his words to sink in.

  ‘But I must tell you,’ he continued, ‘that my people once had a field very similar to yours. It was a rich and verdant meadow; it had a river running around it; and we lived, side-by-side with our neighbours, in peace and tranquillity. We often congratulated ourselves that we had found the perfect setting, and we assumed it would last for ever.’

  Hippo paused again.

  ‘Then, without warning,’ he said at length, ‘the men in the iron helmets arrived. They wanted the field for themselves, so they rounded us all up, destroyed all our tents, and marched us all away.’

  ‘Oh, how awful!’ exclaimed Isabella.

  She was standing at the front of the crowd, and she clasped her hands to her face in horror. Everyone else remained hushed, as if Hippo had cast a spell over them. When he resumed, his voice had taken on an oratorical quality which served only to add to the drama.

  ‘They took us to a land begirt with pestilential marshes,’ he declared, ‘and penned us in for an eternity. Our life there was dreadful and many lost hope, but fortunately I was able to escape. I made my way through the wilderness until I reached your bounteous pastures, where finally I felt safe again.’

  Now the crowd stirred a little, as people remembered the day when Hippo first appeared, and how some had treated him better than others. No doubt he’d embellished parts of his story to achieve greater effect, but just as likely it contained a substantial element of truth. There was much murmuring amongst my fellow spectators, and I sensed a general feeling of apprehension. Moreover, I was rather disquieted by Hippo’s reference to men in iron helmets. Horsefall’s henchmen were standing in clusters here and there, and they’d shown no reaction whatsoever to the remark; neither had Thomas, who was observing the meeting from beneath his canopy. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help reflecting that a few secrets were being kept. These, in turn, posed some unanswered questions.

  In the meantime, Hippo’s speech was nearing its conclusion.

  ‘You should beware the depredations of outsiders,’ he said. ‘You may think that it couldn’t happen here, but I assure you it’s quite possible, especially if you’re divided amongst yourselves.’

  Now he raised his finger and pointed northward.

  ‘That wall of turf,’ he proclaimed, ‘will divide and weaken you! You must tear it down at once!’

  The entire crowd roared in acclamation, but at the same instant there came an even louder sound. A flash of lightning was followed immediately by the crash of thunder, and I looked up to see a vast rain cloud rolling in from the south-west. People began scattering in all directions, leaving only a handful of diehards gathered around the wooden platform.

  ‘Quick, Hippo!’ cried Isabella. ‘You must get into some shelter!’

  She tried to shepherd him towards the shimmering white tent, but he resisted her efforts.

  ‘My work is not yet complete,’ he said.

  ‘Well, it’ll just ha
ve to wait,’ she replied. ‘Come on!’

  ‘But I can’t intrude on you and Thomas.’

  Heavy drops of rain were now falling everywhere. Isabella thought for a few moments, then dashed inside and returned with a neatly folded crimson bundle.

  ‘Here,’ she said briskly, ‘you can have my tent.’

  Before Hippo could protest she added that she was conferring it upon him as a gift, and as such it could not be declined. Under her supervision, the crimson tent was then swiftly erected by several helping-hands. It stood on the very spot where the meeting had been held, and as the rain fell it seemed to gleam in the fading light. Hippo thanked Isabella and immediately took sanctuary within.

  Everybody else made for the comfort of their own tents, at which point Hogust discovered that his boat had been impounded. He paced about on the landing stage, soaking wet, and was informed by Hollis that his vessel would only be returned when he paid the outstanding fee.

  ‘But I never carry cash,’ Hogust protested. ‘I don’t believe in it.’

  ‘No,’ replied Hollis, ‘I don’t suppose you do.’

  ‘So could you let me off just this once?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if I let you off I’d have to let everybody else off as well,’ said Hollis, ‘and that wouldn’t be very fair, would it?’

  ‘Sounds fair enough to me,’ said Hogust.

  Despite his desperate appeals, he was getting nowhere. Hollis (who was clad from head to foot in waterproofs) refused to make any concessions, and eventually Hogust was obliged to scramble over the turf wall and scamper home on foot.

  He wasn’t the only one caught in the rain. My tent suddenly looked a very long way away, and as I slogged northward I noted grimly that the upper field was receiving more than its fair share of the deluge. I suppose I could have sought temporary refuge with Hen, or even Brigant, but instead I pressed on until I reached my lonely outpost. Thankfully it was dry inside, so I settled down and waited for the evening to pass. After a while I began pondering Hippo’s speech, and debating whether anybody would obey his instruction to tear down the turf wall. Given the practicalities, I decided that the answer was ‘probably not’. It was all very well for the multitude to applaud and cheer Hippo’s commandment, but I doubted if they realized how much hard work the job entailed. This, of course, was something I knew from experience. Furthermore, they needed to understand that it wasn’t simply a matter of shovelling the earth back into the trench. On the contrary, each successive layer had to be carefully tamped down flat: otherwise there’d be a surplus left over when they’d finished. Such a task required proper organization with somebody in overall charge. Obviously I had no intention of offering my services, but conceivably the challenge might be taken up by Hartopp and Hogust. Both were capable enough. Considering their previous differences, however, I concluded that the chances of a working partnership were slim.

  The rain continued until the following day, and when it finally ceased there was no more gentle autumn sunshine. The sky remained grey and overcast, with a cold, damp wind blasting in from the west. Around mid-morning I went to see how the trench had coped with the downpour, and I knew at once that it had functioned most effectively. Along its entire length lay damp nettles which had been flattened by the force of the rainwater. In addition, a glance towards the south-east told me that although the ground was wet and muddy, it was far from being waterlogged. In fact, people were going about their daily business with little or no inconvenience. Apparently the drainage scheme had been a success, and it occurred to me that at last my argument was proved to be true. All the talk about divisive walls, defensive ramparts and so forth could finally be laid to rest in the name of common sense!

  Or so I thought.

  I was standing by the trench feeling rather pleased with myself when I heard a distant voice being raised in anger.

  ‘Why hasn’t the work begun yet?’ it demanded. ‘You must not delay a moment longer!’

  The voice I recognized as Hippo’s, and he was roaming amongst the tents rousing his supporters into action. Soon afterwards, they appeared on the embankment armed with all sorts of implements (spades, shovels, pick-axes, rakes and hoes) and started hacking at it inexpertly. I watched in dismay as large clods of earth went tumbling into the trench.

  The frenzied attack was quickly joined by Hogust’s men, and their approach to the job was equally amateurish. Rather than tackle it properly, they were more interested in competing with the southerners in an orgy of destruction. Laughing and joking, they swung their picks and thrust their spades into the embankment, which was now beginning to look very battered and torn. At this point Hartopp came marching along the trench. He was attempting to restore some order to the situation.

  ‘No, no!’ he shouted. ‘You’re doing it all wrong! You have to pack the earth down properly!’

  Needless to say, his advice fell on deaf ears. Hordes of new recruits continued to arrive, seemingly intent on levelling the embankment as swiftly as possible. I noticed, however, that some were more enthusiastic than others; and that the less zealous among them had to be cajoled and prodded by Horsefall’s men to make them strive harder.

  My second observation was more striking. I suddenly realized that Hippo had failed to join the workforce. During the morning I’d heard him exhorting the masses to apply themselves with might and main, but thereafter he’d been conspicuous by his absence. I later discovered that he’d spent the rest of the day lounging around his newly acquired crimson tent, receiving visits from Thomas and Isabella, and generally avoiding any kind of toil.

  Meanwhile, his instructions were being carried out to the letter. The hours of relentless digging were starting to show results, and the embankment had been greatly reduced. Inevitably, though, a problem arose: the trench was almost full of excavated earth and there was nowhere to put the remainder. The only solution was to keep piling it on in the hope that it would settle down eventually. Indeed, there was no alternative. As work resumed, Hartopp stood shaking his head at the folly he was witnessing.

  ‘It might settle down in due course,’ he conceded, ‘but it’s likely to take centuries.’

  14

  Down at the landing stage lay an impounded longboat. Hogust was far too proud to plead for its return, and he certainly had no intention of paying Hollis’s ‘extortionate fee’ (as he described it). In consequence, he decided the boat could stay exactly where it was for the time being.

  ‘I’ve no immediate use for it,’ he remarked. ‘If Hollis wants to take care of it over the winter, it’s up to him.’

  The news was then relayed to Hogust that his decision rendered him liable for a seasonal berthing charge. He responded by vowing never to visit the south-east again. The people down there were a bunch of sharks, he said, ready to fleece a man as soon as look at him! They could keep the damned boat and he hoped it went rotten in its bilges!

  ‘That’ll teach them a lesson!’ he declared.

  Hogust’s portrayal of the south-east may not have been entirely accurate, but in one respect he was fairly near the truth. It seemed that every transaction was subject to some type of price, fee or charge: these were practically unavoidable, and nobody could get anything done without having to dip into their pockets. The latest swindle, apparently, was a toll for crossing the river, and it came as no surprise when I learnt that all the proceeds were going to Thomas. However, he didn’t lower himself by collecting the tolls in person: instead, he appointed Horsefall and Griep as his agents. According to them, it was ‘widely known’ that Thomas had discovered the crossing in the first place, and therefore he was entitled to charge others for the privilege of using it.

  As a matter of fact, Horsefall and Griep were playing an increasingly large part in the day-to-day affairs of the Great Field. Not only were they close associates of Thomas, but I also saw them at the landing stage talking to Hollis, and escorting Hippo when he went on his promena
des among the tents. It all looked extremely cosy, and I realized that I’d slipped very much into the role of an outsider.

  Horsefall’s men were seldom idle, and one day they came around the field distributing handbills. They moved methodically from tent to tent, making sure that nobody was excluded. The whole task was carried out very politely, yet with an air of authority which suggested the handbills could not be ignored. I received mine just before dusk, and I sat down to read it in the twilight. It went as follows:

  WE WISH TO NOTIFY EVERYONE THAT THE COPPER BATH BELONGING TO ISABELLA WAS MISAPPROPRIATED SEVERAL WEEKS AGO, AND HAS SINCE BEEN PUT TO A NUMBER OF DISHONOURABLE USES. ISABELLA DESPAIRS AT THE LOSS OF THIS TREASURED POSSESSION, WHICH IS HERS BY INDEFEASIBLE RIGHT. MOREOVER, SHE DESIRES THE BATH TO BE HIDDEN FROM VIEW AND EMPLOYED ONLY IN ITS PROPER PURPOSE. THOSE WHO STOLE IT ARE BEYOND REDEMPTION, BUT THEY COULD AT LEAST SHOW THEIR REMORSE BY RETURNING IT TO ITS ORIGINAL OWNER AT ONCE.

  The handbill was signed by Thomas and Isabella. I studied it closely for a few minutes to make sure I understood it correctly, but even so I was left feeling rather bewildered. Why, I wondered, had they bothered to publish a handbill when everybody knew the precise whereabouts of the copper bath? It was plainly visible from all four corners of the field and was hardly a secret. If Isabella thought she had a prior claim, then surely it would have been much simpler to go to Yadegarian and ask for it back. As far as I recalled, Yadegarian had taken the bath into his custody solely for safekeeping. He was a reasonable man, and I had no doubt that some sort of accommodation could easily have been reached. Instead, Thomas and Isabella were adopting this heavy-handed approach which promised only to lead to further unpleasantness. Actually, the assertion that the bath had been stolen was quite offensive!

  There was something else too. As I read and re-read the notice, I began to suspect that Hippo might have had a hand in its composition. Both the tone and the wording were familiar and, given his outspoken opinion regarding the copper bath, I became more and more convinced I was correct. Without question, Hippo’s personal influence was spreading by leaps and bounds: in no time at all he’d been transformed from a ragged wanderer into the occupant of a splendid crimson tent; he enjoyed the full support of Thomas, Isabella, Horsefall and Griep; and now it seemed he was trying to turn the whole populace against Yadegarian. I peered into the descending gloom, and realized that since Hippo’s arrival the Great Field had undergone yet another change.