The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by Magnus Mills

  Still, it was no business of mine, so I began making preparations to move. I worked quickly and efficiently, sorting out my possessions and packing up my tent. Half an hour later, everything had been stowed in a portmanteau or rolled into bundles. It was going to require two or three journeys to transfer all the items to a new location, so I sat down briefly for a rest.

  Over in the south-east, Horsefall and Griep were up and about amid their tents. I had no idea who was who, but I had a feeling that Horsefall was the leader and Griep his deputy. Their comportment was sober, self-controlled and dignified; they certainly weren’t a disruptive element in the manner of Hogust’s uproarious brigades. Even so, the way they spoke quietly with their heads together suggested there was an underlying secrecy about them. For this reason, the pair were definitely worth keeping an eye on.

  They had just paused at the edge of the outer circle when Thomas appeared in his doorway and glanced all around. I could tell he was astonished by the sight that met him: he stiffened noticeably before stepping outside, then marched across to remonstrate with Horsefall and Griep. He gestured towards the new tents, jabbed at the air with his hands, and raised his voice in anger. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the implication was very clear: by bringing in their friends, the newcomers had exceeded their welcome. Horsefall and Griep, meanwhile, seemed totally unmoved. They stood peering at Thomas with their arms folded, giving the occasional nod of acknowledgement, but saying nothing in reply. By this time, several of their comrades had emerged from their tents and begun roaming up and down the river bank. Considering they’d only been here a day, I thought they looked very much at home. Furthermore, I couldn’t imagine them leaving again just because Thomas had misgivings about their presence. It was a classic predicament: Thomas now held the south-east through force majeure, but he was also stuck with a mighty horde on his doorstep.

  The next person to surface was Isabella, and when she headed directly towards the new tents I fully expected her to join the fray. I knew from experience that she could be a fierce opponent, so I braced myself for a pitched battle. This morning, however, Isabella was cool, calm and collected; moreover, she made every attempt to resolve the impasse. For the last five minutes, Thomas had been laying down the law and getting nowhere. Isabella’s approach was entirely different. She greeted Horsefall and Griep with a smile and a handshake, then listened politely as they presented their case. Again, of course, I had no idea exactly what was being said, but eventually some sort of accord was reached and the two parties went their separate ways. Whether it was settled to Thomas’s satisfaction remained obscure, but at least the situation was no longer critical. One thing was certain: for the moment, he was going to have to learn to live amongst his neighbours.

  By contrast, I would soon have no neighbours at all! With unbridled glee I carried my equipment to the remote north-west and set up a brand-new camp. Just as Hartopp had described, it was wild and windswept. It was also thrillingly empty. I chose a piece of ground and pitched my tent facing down the field. The south-east lay partially lost from sight beyond the turf wall, but otherwise I could see all that was going on without getting involved. It was perfect, and I kept asking myself why I hadn’t made the move before.

  Not until hours later did the answer occur to me. I was sitting alone by my tent and I had nobody to talk to, not even Hen. All across the field I could hear the faint ebb and flow of faraway conversations, but I was unable to join in with any of them. Apart from gazing at distant tents I hadn’t really got enough to keep me occupied, and I was already beginning to regret my decision. Even so, there was no question of going back. My pride wouldn’t allow such a reversal; therefore, I simply had to make the best of my new-found solitude.

  As the afternoon dragged on I watched the shadows slowly lengthen, and after a while I realized I had a visitor. Plodding over the northern slope came Brigant.

  ‘So,’ he said, when he drew near, ‘you’ve beaten Hogust to it.’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘I suppose I have.’

  ‘He proposes to move here at the first opportunity.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘So he says.’

  ‘Is he planning to sail round?’ I enquired. ‘Or haul his boats overland?’

  ‘Not sure,’ said Brigant. ‘He hasn’t gone into the details.’

  This last comment came as no surprise whatsoever. The reason Hogust hadn’t gone into the details was most likely because he had no intention of moving. It was all a sham. Hogust was an accomplished practitioner of rumour and speculation, and I had no doubt that he was up to some mischief or other. Still, it was nice of Brigant to bring me the latest gossip.

  If only he’d waited a little longer, he would have had some proper news to tell me: news which in itself was fairly minor, yet which signalled the beginning of a gradual change in the Great Field.

  It so happened that I witnessed the event without even knowing it. During the afternoon I’d spotted a lone sail moving down the river in the east, but I’d scarcely paid it any attention. I’d merely assumed it was one of Hogust’s vessels on a trial run. It transpired, however, that Hollis had defied his father, borrowed a boat, and headed southward. He’d gone ashore at Isabella’s former landing place and set up camp nearby. I only learnt all this the next day, and by then Hollis had been joined by his brother Eldred in a second boat. Naturally, Hartopp was thunderstruck, yet he was determined not to interfere.

  ‘They’re old enough to make up their own minds,’ he told me, when I called on him later. ‘It’s their choice.’

  ‘I’m astonished they went south,’ I said. ‘If they were seeking uncharted territory they should have made for the north-west.’

  ‘That’s what I’d have expected,’ replied Hartopp, ‘but their tastes have become more refined.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘It seems they prefer madding crowds to wide open spaces.’

  ‘But not their own madding crowds.’

  ‘No,’ said Hartopp, ‘that would have been far too easy.’

  He was plainly disheartened. He didn’t utter the word ‘betrayal’, but he might just as well have.

  To keep his mind off his many worries, Hartopp sought solace in hard work. With my assistance, he pulled his remaining boat further inland and made it secure; then he spent the afternoon clearing the rest of the nettles. I would have helped with this task as well, but there was no need. Hartopp produced a scythe from his tool store, sharpened it, and slashed relentlessly at the nettles until they all lay flat on the ground.

  At the height of the operation, Hogust came sauntering along the river bank, having evidently heard the news of Hollis’s flight. He observed Hartopp for some moments; then he said, ‘I bet you wish you’d let me have the boats now, don’t you?’

  Hartopp ceased work and gave Hogust a devastating look.

  ‘No,’ he replied at length. ‘I wish I’d scuppered them instead.’

  Hogust said nothing more, and with a furrowed brow went wandering back the way he’d come.

  Hollis and Eldred weren’t the only new arrivals in the south. Over successive days, an assorted collection of stragglers, camp-followers, pedlars and importuners appeared at the crossing in dribs and drabs. Some of them found places for their tents amongst Horsefall’s and Griep’s; others settled on the periphery, while still others colonized the river bank. I heard of these developments via second-hand reports, mainly from Brigant. He took a great delight in relating the goings-on beyond the turf wall, especially the fact that Thomas was being slowly encircled by the incomers. Apparently, the shimmering white tent looked as if it was under siege.

  ‘Serves him right,’ Brigant remarked. ‘He acts as if the whole world revolves around him, but in truth he’s a mere pageant.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  ‘The way he carries on, anybody would think his tent was lined with cloth of gold!’

  Brigant didn’t mention how Isabella
was faring in all this; perhaps he didn’t know. It occurred to me that she’d probably been obliged to abandon her daily swim in the river. With all those people roaming everywhere, I imagined it was no longer possible to drift undisturbed in the dappled seclusion of the reed beds. Besides, the weather would soon be unsuitable for outdoor bathing. As each day passed, the clouds thickened and the breeze rose a little. There’d still been no rain as yet, but it couldn’t be very far off.

  The advent of the long, autumnal evenings coincided with another change too: it emerged that a nightly curfew had been imposed in the lower field. At ten o’clock exactly, all the lights were extinguished and the residents fell silent. Not everyone slept, however. Throughout the hours of darkness, shadowy figures could be seen patrolling the walkways between the tents, presumably ensuring that all was well. The keepers of the watch were no doubt Horsefall’s men, and I wondered what was the purpose of the curfew. Quite possibly it had been arranged for Isabella’s sole benefit, so that she could enjoy her slumbers uninterrupted. If so, then her influence was plainly in the ascendancy. On the other hand, the curfew might simply have been a device for maintaining law and order. This was the more likely explanation, and it was a source of profound satisfaction for the northerners, since they were free from such restrictions. Indeed, the idea of Hogust being subject to a curfew was unthinkable.

  Meanwhile, the wave of migration continued apace. Fully laden boats started to appear from further upriver, and without exception they by-passed the north-eastern settlements. Instead, they headed directly for a landing stage which had recently been constructed by Hollis and Eldred. Word quickly came back to us that the pair were charging a modest fee for this service. As far as I knew it was the first occasion any kind of toll had been levied in the Great Field, and they were reputedly reaping a handsome profit from their venture. Hartopp made no comment when he heard the news, so it was hard to tell whether he was proud of his sons for their initiative, or disappointed at their blatant opportunism. Either way, the enterprise was a veritable sign of the times.

  The happenings in the south-east held everyone’s undivided attention. As a consequence, nobody noticed the ragged fellow who came stumbling out of the wilderness one blustery day. Like Thomas, he was bearded and barefoot, but there the similarity ended. The newcomer had no possessions and no tent; all he had was a coarse blanket which he wrapped around himself for warmth, and which he slept beneath at night. His name was Hippo, and his stated objective was to go amongst the tents and speak to the people. He chose the north-east encampment as his first port of call, and in due course presented himself at Hogust’s doorway. Unfortunately, some of the longboatmen regarded this as an act of gross impudence. They seized Hippo and were on the verge of throwing him in the river when Hogust interceded on his behalf.

  ‘Let him explain himself first,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll decide what to do with him.’

  Hippo spoke eloquently and declared that he was carrying an urgent message which he wished to impart.

  ‘Come on then,’ said Hogust. ‘Let’s hear it.’

  ‘The people aren’t yet ready,’ replied Hippo.

  ‘I thought you said it was urgent.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So why are you speaking in riddles?’

  Hippo was clearly taxing Hogust’s patience, but he seemed quite unaware of the jeopardy he was courting. Instead of answering the question, he announced loftily that first he needed to meet the people and get to know them.

  ‘Only then can I tell my story,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to contribute to the cause?’

  ‘No, I would not!’ snapped Hogust. ‘If you’re looking for a handout, you can go and see Hartopp!’

  Accompanied by a chorus of hoots and jeers, Hippo swiftly left the camp. It was an ignoble retreat, and he could count himself fortunate to have escaped Hogust’s clutches in one piece.

  His arrival at the adjoining settlement, by contrast, was met with a wholehearted welcome. Just as Hogust had suggested, Hartopp proved to be a munificent benefactor. He fed and watered his guest, and even offered him the use of a spare tent. Surprisingly, though, Hippo elected to sleep under the stars.

  ‘Until the people are ready,’ he said, ‘the sky will be my tent.’

  True to his word, when everyone else bedded down for the night, Hippo wrapped himself in his blanket and went to sleep. (Hartopp told me later that he felt very guilty about this.)

  The next morning, following a generous breakfast, Hippo resumed his mission. He meant to visit all four corners of the field, so after calling on Brigant he inevitably turned up at my door. Luckily I’d been forewarned by the others, and I was prepared for him. I listened politely as he delivered his introductory speech, which was evidently a variation on a general theme. Meanwhile, I pondered whether he was a genuine visionary, a charlatan, or merely a victim of self-delusion. For the present, I resolved to allow him the benefit of the doubt, and to treat him with civility. Therefore, when he asked for a donation, I reached into my tent and produced the biscuit which Hen had given me. For a moment I felt a tinge of regret: after all, I’d harboured ambitious plans for that biscuit. It was imprinted with the letter J, and was an integral part of my project to forge trading links between the field’s many diverse settlements. Seen from this perspective, the biscuit’s intrinsic worth went far beyond its face value. In the event, however, I gave it to Hippo as the price of getting rid of him.

  He thanked me profusely, then said goodbye and proceeded into the south-west. His course took him past the turf wall, which he examined briefly before continuing towards Hen’s tent. For some reason Hen was absent, so the next destination was Yadegarian’s distant colony.

  I imagined that Hippo would find Yadegarian and his companions more receptive than anybody else in the field. Like him, they were highly idealistic people, and I assumed they would embrace him with open arms. Accordingly, I was astounded when I discovered that his visit had been a complete disaster. Again I only heard second-hand reports, but it transpired that Hippo took a very dim view of the exalted copper bath. He harshly censured the settlers for polishing it morning, noon and night, condemning the practice as both ‘foolish’ and ‘unworthy’; moreover, he enjoined them to keep the bath hidden from view and employ it only in its proper purpose. For their part, they resented his criticism and angrily drove him out of the encampment.

  Hippo appeared destined forever to sleep out in the open, yet his fortunes swiftly changed when he headed for the thriving south-east quarter.

  It so happened that Thomas and Isabella had recently instituted a ritual of their own. Without fail, they embarked each morning on a ‘progress’ through their adopted territory, following a fixed route that took them past the rows of encircling tents, then along the river bank as far as the crossing. When I learnt about this daily excursion, I concluded it was a means by which Thomas and Isabella could show themselves to the populace at large: he in his flowing white robes, she in her crimson finery. It was a calculated exercise, a further example of their unabashed regal posturing. Nevertheless, Hippo managed to turn it to his advantage. At a carefully chosen moment, he engaged with the strolling couple and urged them to beware of their own vanity. Obviously such a blunt approach carried the risk of immediate rejection; after all, Thomas was hardly renowned for his self-effacement and Isabella was fiery to say the least. The encounter might easily have been yet another catastrophe for Hippo, but on this occasion his luck held out. Perhaps it was the bare feet and the beard that made the difference, or maybe it was Hippo’s verbal fluency. Whatever the reason, it fast became clear that Isabella found the stranger highly fascinating. No sooner had they met than she was entreating him to relate his untold message. Once again, however, Hippo insisted that it could not be unveiled before he had travelled to every corner of the field. This proviso served only to deepen the mystique which surrounded him, and in Isabella’s case it was especially effective. At once she offered to
accompany Hippo on his tour of the south-east; she also assured him that henceforth no doors would be closed in his face. Thomas, meanwhile, had lapsed into silence. It was difficult to tell if he perceived Hippo as a friend, as a potential rival, or as simply unfathomable. At any rate, he said nothing when Isabella made her pronouncement.

  Hippo’s quest now rapidly gathered momentum. Escorted by Isabella, he made his way from tent to tent until the entire region was aware of his presence. He then declared that on the following day a public meeting would be held to which all were invited. Again, Isabella’s assistance proved invaluable. It seemed that Hippo had privately expressed reservations about his impact north of the turf wall. He was particularly disappointed at having failed to recruit Hogust, and he questioned whether anyone from the north-east would attend the meeting. Isabella, of course, refused to countenance such doubts.

  ‘Don’t worry about Hogust,’ she intoned. ‘I’ll deal with him.’

  True to her word, Isabella marched across the field, skirted the turf wall with barely a second glance, and headed directly towards Hogust’s encampment.

  Poor Hogust didn’t stand a chance: as a matter of fact he didn’t even see her coming. He was fiddling with the sails on one of his boats, hauling them up and down the mast, when suddenly she appeared before him. This was the first time they’d met each other in person, but Isabella didn’t bother with a formal introduction. Instead, she gave Hogust a severe dressing-down for the general untidiness of his camp; then, as he peered at her in speechless amazement, she issued a series of instructions concerning the time and place of the forthcoming assembly. In addition, Hogust was advised that a low turnout would not be acceptable.

  ‘We don’t want just a handful of people,’ Isabella concluded. ‘We want each and every one of you.’