Three to See the King

by Magnus Mills

  'Oh, are they?'

  'Yes, and the earth ramps are as safe as houses.'

  There was something about the way he spoke that made me trust him unreservedly, as if I'd known him my whole life. All at once I felt that I might just be able to negotiate the route into the canyon, if someone came with me.

  'I don't mind accompanying you,' said the man. 'If you'd like to have a go.'

  'Alright,' I replied. 'I will.'

  The first part of the descent was a short, steep ramp of earth leading to a platform about twelve feet below. I got down this section quite easily, and then found myself at the top of a long ladder. The man hopped onto the upper rung and off again to demonstrate how secure it was.

  'Shall I go first, or you?' he asked.

  'You lead and I'll follow,' I said.

  Halfway down the ladder my hands were sticky and I was holding on much tighter than I needed to. All the same, with his reassuring voice encouraging my every step, I made it to the next level and began to feel a little better. Another ladder came next, followed by a huge, wide ramp that gradually evened out onto a second platform. In this manner we worked steadily downwards, pausing from time to time so that I could get some perspective on our progress, then continuing unhurriedly to the next stage. As we did so I marvelled at how well it had all been worked out. The ladders were fixed firmly in position and the ramps of earth packed hard so that they felt very solid underfoot. Consequently, none of the links in this stairway was daunting enough to make me want to turn back. At one point there was even a wooden bench for resting on, and when we reached it my guide suggested we stopped for a few minutes. Another good idea. So far I'd managed to avoid looking into the canyon itself, but when I finally did I discovered I was able to remain calm and composed. This was actually quite enjoyable! As we sat gazing across the wide expanse, I noticed that several of the people below were staring up at us. Presumably, they must have seen many others coming down this route in the past, and I wondered what they found so interesting about my partner and me.

  Most of them, however, were concentrating fully on their task. All along the canyon, huge excavations were under way to make it broader, deeper and longer, the work being carried out by highly-organized groups of men and women. Everywhere there were ramps, ladders and hoists, as well as planks and footpaths connecting the various operations. The area around the encampment was apparently finished, because the earth here had been levelled completely flat. Even so, there was still plenty remaining to be done, and all of a sudden I felt a desire to take part in this tremendous undertaking.

  'Shall we go on?' I said.

  My neighbour had been sitting in silence, as if contemplating the upturned faces below. Now he rose to his feet, saying, 'Yes, of course', and led the way to the next stage.

  Trudging up from the bottom was a straggler, a lone man on the first leg of his journey home. He was moving very slowly, carefully measuring his steps, as he negotiated a ramp, a ladder and then another ramp. He paused at the foot of the next ladder, seemingly unaware that we were waiting above him. My companion leaned over and called, 'Do you want to come up first, John?'

  The question had a marked effect on the man below us. He glanced up, saw who'd addressed him, and gave a cry of recognition.

  'Michael!' he exclaimed. 'Oh yes, thank you, I will!'

  17

  So, had I met him at last? Was I being led down this obstacle course by Michael Hawkins himself ? The sudden realization that, yes, I most probably was, caused me to sway unsteadily and next moment I felt him seize me by the arm.

  'Careful now,' he said. 'The most difficult part's already done.'

  'Yes,' I replied, striving to recover my balance. 'I'm just beginning to understand that.'

  We remained there, with him gently supporting me, as the other man ascended the ladder and joined us.

  'Thank you,' he repeated. 'I'm so glad I've caught you, Michael. I need to speak to you and I thought you were up at the top.'

  'Is there something wrong?'

  'Well, not wrong as such, and I don't want to be a telltale, but Steve Treacle's down there giving out his orders again.'

  Michael Hawkins's grip on my arm slackened and then he let go altogether. At the same instant a troubled look crossed his face.

  'Alright, thank you, John,' he said at length. 'You've finished work for the time being have you?'

  'Yes,' came the reply. 'But I can come back down if anything needs sorting out.'

  'No, no, I don't think that will be necessary, thanks all the same. You go home and take some rest, and return whenever you're ready.'

  'Alright, well as long as you're sure?'

  'Of course,' he said. 'Everything will be fine.'

  As John left us and continued climbing I detected a renewed vigour in his step. This I attributed to the brief exchange he'd had with Michael Hawkins, who watched his progress for a while before breathing a long sigh. It was barely audible, and I wouldn't have heard it had I not been listening to him so closely. On our journey down I'd come to depend on his spoken directions. He had a voice I felt I could trust, and now, when I heard him sigh, I knew there was something amiss.

  'Problems?' I asked.

  'Nothing that can't be resolved.'

  'Steve acting up, is he?'

  'By the sound of it, yes,' he said. 'Steve today. Someone else tomorrow.'

  He looked saddened, and at that moment I forgot about my own concerns.

  'Why don't we continue down?' I suggested. 'They probably won't misbehave if you're around.'

  'They're not misbehaving really,' he answered. 'It's just that sometimes they try too hard.'

  'Oh, well, whatever,' I said. 'Shall we go?'

  I was halfway down the ladder before I remembered I was supposed to be afraid of heights, and by then there was no point in worrying about it. Nevertheless, Michael Hawkins carried on talking me down as if I was still under his care, which in many respects was true. I'd arrived in this canyon as a guest of his, and I had to bear in mind that I was very much an outsider. Best to stay close to him, I thought, at least for the time being.

  When we finally got to the bottom, it was like entering a whole new world! The first thing I observed was that the climate was milder here than high up on the harsh and windy plain. The desultory flapping of the tarpaulins indicated a gentle breeze, rather than a howling gale, and I could easily imagine the place bathed in summer sunlight. Stretching away in all directions were the great earthworks, swarming with hordes of people all bent on a common purpose. Some of them paused and stared across at us as we passed by, just as they had done during our descent. Michael Hawkins was obviously highly revered in these parts, and as we neared the camp I recalled the impression of him that I'd built up over the past year. It was of a man who could do no wrong, who accomplished great things, and whose whole existence was perfect. These qualities had won him many friends, among them Simon, Steve and Philip. They told me he lived in a better part of the plain than I did. They spread stories about how he'd built a house of tin and then rejected it, leaving an empty shell for me to move into. Everything I heard about him told of his superiority: even his ideas were thought to be more interesting than mine. They abandoned me so that they could go to him, and in this way they'd made me jealous. I now realized that it was envy, not curiosity, that had brought me to see the canyon. It was envy, too, that had made me judge him before we'd even met, and now I felt more than a little ashamed.

  'Looks as though supper's almost ready,' he said.

  Ahead of us a number of long tables had been set up, around which people were gathering for some food and drink. It seemed like a very sociable affair. We walked another few paces, and then Michael Hawkins suddenly stopped and gazed across to his right. He was examining a level area of land where the work appeared to be more or less finished, but I couldn't really tell what had caught his attention. Then I noticed four wooden pegs. They'd been hammered into the ground to mark a rectangle, roughly
the size of a house. A few yards beyond them were another four, laid out in exactly the same manner. He stood for several seconds regarding these pegs in deep thought, and then, without saying a word, he turned and continued towards the camp. Our arrival didn't cause too much of a stir, so when a place was set aside for us at one of the tables I assumed we would be left to eat in peace. No sooner had we sat down, though, than we began to be approached by people with requests. The first was from a man who asked if Michael could spare an hour to view the particular part of the canyon he and his friends were working in.

  'We've managed to overcome that little setback,' he explained. 'Following the advice you gave us.'

  'That's good,' replied Michael.

  'And now we'd like you to see the results.'

  'Yes, well, certainly I'll come. Thank you.'

  'When do you think that will be?'

  'As soon as possible.'

  Tomorrow?'

  'Maybe not tomorrow, but very soon, I promise you that.'

  The man looked delighted with this news, and said he hoped even greater things would follow such a visit.

  Shortly afterwards a second man sidled up to the table.

  'Excuse me, Michael,' he said, in a quiet voice. 'Could I ask your opinion on something?'

  'Of course.'

  'Do you agree that it's better for people to complete the task they've started, rather than just moving willy-nilly from one job to another?'

  'Yes,' said Michael. 'What you're saying sounds like good practice to me.'

  'And that it's not fair leaving others to see things through?'

  'Quite right.'

  'Well, could you possibly have a word with Nicholas?' asked the man. 'He's gone off without completing his work and started somewhere else.'

  'Ah, Nicholas!' answered Michael, with a smile. 'Yes, I remember he came and asked me about that.'

  'Oh ... did he?'

  'Yes, you see his closest companion was working on another site, and they wanted to be together.'

  'So it was with your approval, was it?'

  'It was indeed.'

  'Well, I wish he'd told me.'

  'That would have helped, yes, but you know now, so everything's alright.'

  'Yes ... er ... thank you, Michael. Sorry to bother you.'

  And so it continued. Throughout our meal, my host was repeatedly being called on to arbitrate and offer advice, to grant favours and give consent to certain propositions. In doing so he showed infinite patience, always managing to settle issues in a manner acceptable to everyone, and to give praise where it was due. All the same, it struck me that this must be putting a great strain upon the man, and I wondered if they ever gave him time to himself. For it was his time that they demanded the most. Without exception they appeared to like nothing better than to be seen with him, however briefly, and to have his undivided attention.

  Special status had been conferred on me as well, although to a much lesser extent. While Michael Hawkins was dealing as best he could with the various requests, I found myself under the perpetual gaze of a few men and several women. I didn't want to make the same mistake as I had with Jane Day, but even so it was pleasant to be on the receiving end of their smiles and glances. Better still was when Alison Hopewell made an appearance. She was walking amongst the tables, evidently looking for someone, so I called out her name. When she saw me she gave a friendly wave, but her eyes continued searching. A moment later they fell on Michael Hawkins, sitting there beside me. Then she came over.

  'Hello,' she said to me. 'So you made it down here after all.'

  I didn't even get the chance to answer.

  'Oh, Michael,' she continued. 'Do you think you could come over to the new diggings?'

  'Yes, I can if you like,' he replied. 'Is something the matter?'

  'It's Steve.'

  That was all she said, but it was enough to cause a slight murmur to pass around the table.

  Michael glanced at me.

  'Would you like to come along?' he asked.

  'Sure,' I said. 'If you think I can be of help.'

  When he rose from his seat one or two other people did likewise, as though to provide strength in numbers.

  'No, that's alright,' said Michael. 'Just the three of us will go. The rest of you please stay and enjoy your supper.'

  They resumed their meal as we left and headed across the canyon to the far side. This was by way of a footpath of raised earth that passed between several deep excavations. In some of these the people were still working. Others lay empty, with tools and equipment carefully stacked together until next required. Ahead of us the ground was a good bit higher, suggesting operations had only recently begun. This, I assumed, was what Alison had referred to as 'the new diggings'. There were planks laid out to allow access from the footpath, but, drawing nearer, I saw that many more planks remained stacked in a pile, around which stood about a dozen men. One of these turned out to be Steve Treacle.

  Even from a distance I could see he was involved in an argument with one of the others. This was quite obvious from his stance, which made him look oddly twisted as he leant forward with his shoulders hunched, jabbing one finger at a man at the other side of the pile. Most of the onlookers were watching intently, while one or two made half-hearted attempts to continue their work. Then someone spotted us coming, and everything changed. Steve's posture relaxed visibly, as if he saw vindication approaching. The other man, in the meantime, took a plank from the pile and stood holding it.

  If they expected Michael simply to march up to them and settle the dispute they were wrong. Instead, he picked up a shovel from where it leant against an earth bank, and started digging. Everyone watched in silence as gradually he loaded a barrow until it was full.

  Then he turned to the man with the plank and said, 'Could I have that please?'

  The man obliged and handed it to Michael, who laid it from the point where he stood to the beginning of the footpath.

  'But Michael,' said Steve. 'That's a broad plank.'

  'So I see,' replied Michael.

  'But we need the broad ones for shoring up the works. Only the ordinary ones are used for running the barrows along. That's how it's been done ever since the beginning.'

  'I know,' said Michael. 'Yet clearly I need a plank here, and as far as I can see all those beside you are broad ones.'

  'Then I'll run and fetch you an ordinary plank!'

  'It won't be necessary.'

  'But you told me yourself!' Steve protested. 'I'm only doing as you said! The broad ones are best used for shoring up, that's what you've always told me, but these people won't listen! Please tell them I'm right!'

  He looked desperate, and it suddenly seemed as though he was wholly dependent on Michael Hawkins's affirmation. I glanced at Alison, standing beside me with her arms folded, and saw that she was regarding the scene intently, as were the other bystanders.

  'Of course you're right, Steve,' said Michael at length. 'It's pleasing to know that you follow my advice so closely, and indeed your compliance is beyond question. Nonetheless, I'm sure you'll agree that we should not allow the means to defeat the end. Won't the broad planks suffice on this one occasion?'

  A long moment passed, during which all eyes were on Steve.

  'I suppose they could,' he answered, a little stiffly. 'But the general rule still applies, does it?'

  'If you wish to call it a rule, then yes,' replied Michael. 'It's just a way of doing things, really.'

  While they'd been talking, I'd noticed that a second plank was needed to complete the connection to the footpath. The matter now being settled, I went over to the pile, selected a plank, and placed it end-to-end with Michael's. This simple act, witnessed by a dozen people, had consequences I could never have predicted. I meant only to ease Michael's burden a little, yet by moving that plank without asking permission from him, from Steve, or from anyone else, I bestowed authority upon myself.

  18

  That night, for the fi
rst time in my life, I slept beneath a tarpaulin. It was most pleasant. The fabric provided adequate protection in the mild conditions of the canyon, and life under cloth made an interesting change from the rigours of a tin house. There was none of the creaking and groaning to which I'd become accustomed over the years, nor were there shutters and doors to be opened and closed at certain intervals. Instead there were only flaps, which could be lowered for additional privacy, or rolled up to allow the circulation of air. As I said, it made an interesting change, but it was nothing more than that.

  I soon gathered from the conversations of those around me, however, that they regarded their stay here as a sort of duty, an unavoidable preface to the day when the city of tin would be rebuilt on this very spot.

  As a matter of fact, this was all they ever talked about. As I drifted off to sleep, the last thing I heard was my neighbours discussing their plans for tin walls, tin roofs and tin chimneys. Next morning, when I awoke to pale light filtering through canvas, the same voices were still deep in conversation. Oh, what hopes they had! It seemed they liked nothing more, after three or four days' work, than to return to their homes and dream, safe in the knowledge that for the time being their service was done.

  This work, of course, was carried out at Michael Hawkins's behest, and I had to admit that his accomplishments were astounding. Even when I joined one of the squads and took part in operations myself, I just couldn't see how we managed to move so much earth. If one man filled a barrow, and led it off along the planks and footpaths, then by the time he returned his comrades would have filled ten more. These tens soon became hundreds, and so on, until the excavation was complete, and we could move on. Every now and then Michael would pay a visit to see that all was going well, and then they would bombard him with questions such as those I'd heard on the first evening. Quite often, though, he would be away surveying some other part of the canyon, and it was on these occasions that they turned to me instead. Apparently, word had got round about the incident involving the planks, and it was now generally assumed that I could speak for Michael. So it was that my opinion began to be sought on all kinds of matters, from the settlement of disputes over who should be working where, to the correct method for handling a shovel. The majority of enquiries, however, concerned the proposed city, and I soon discovered there was something Michael hadn't told them.