by Jacky Gray
‘Why do you choose those two in particular?’
Uncomfortable under Malduc’s sharp gaze, Reagan thought about his reasons before trying to explain them. ‘I simply have a feeling this should have been one of the oldest horses like those two, so it should be related to them in some way. But they are so very different: one is flowing and more of an image and the other is still and more life-like, almost a picture.’
‘So, a good compromise would be a still image or a flowing picture.’ The elder’s face relaxed back into a smile.
‘Yes, that’s the sort of thing I had in mind.’
‘Strange. You seem to be in tune with my thinking on this. Just out of curiosity, how would you proceed?’
‘I would invite some local artists. People like Kalen’s friend Thearl and the Beltane craft prize winners.’
‘Go on.’
‘And maybe some people from around the area of Somerford as well. Ask them to draw a horse based on one of the ideas and get a panel to judge the best one. You could even offer a prize.’
‘You don’t think it would be prize enough to have their design etched into the hill for eternity?’
‘I was merely thinking of something in keeping with their work. Like a commission in the council house or a grand supply of canvasses and paints.’ Reagan knew from what Kalen had said these materials were hard to come by.
‘Or even, both.’ The twinkle which had been absent from Malduc’s eye was back for good. ‘We are in accord. The final date for the entries is one week today. I know it’s a short time, but we will need to start work as soon as possible; there is a lot of preparation to do. Kalen has kindly volunteered to transfer the final design into a scale drawing to take into account the slope. That will make it quicker to create the design on the hillside.’
Kalen gave a small nod of his head, but Malduc continued, ‘Tegan is in charge of getting the necessary materials. I’m sure there will be no shortage of volunteers to dig once they find out about the continuous supply of food and drink.’
‘So, is that it? Do I go back to lehren, now?’
‘Is that what you want? Because if it is, you’re very welcome to return. You have done far more than we ever expected of you.’ Malduc paused for an instant as Reagan’s face registered how unwelcome that idea was. ‘Of course, you have already completed the junior course so there wouldn’t be much for you to do, unless they used you as an extra tutor for some of the slower students.’ He checked the idea was equally distasteful before adding nonchalantly, ‘But if you think you could help us out a little longer, there is still work to be done.’
Reagan’s face lit up. ‘There is? But I thought we would be finished once we worked out position of the new horse.’
‘There are still a lot of calculations required and other factors to oversee in the cutting. And there is a small matter of the triangle we never quite sorted out.’
‘The triangle?’ Reagan had seen so many.
‘From the crop pattern.’
‘The one by Uffington?’
‘That’s right. At Burford. I have a theory. If we identify three horses which correspond exactly, one of them may be in the wrong place too.’
‘Right. I think I have an idea how to do it.’
‘Excellent. I’m assuming he can continue to work in your office, Kalen?’
‘Of course.’
‘That’s settled then. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to see an artist about a horse.’
Reagan grinned at the idea of extending his quest. Although he took the lead when it came to the spirit lines, he was learning so much about everything from Kalen and he didn’t want it to end just yet. With the help of Ganieda’s tonic, his mental abilities seemed to be returning and his memory stabilising. He spent the afternoon learning Kalen’s method of using trigonometry to calculate the foreshortening effect of the hill from the angle of the slope.
‘Is that the one about sine and tan? We only did it once and nobody understood it so Professor Kenryk said we’d do it again after Beltane.’
‘There we are, you would have missed it, so it’s a good job we’re doing it now. It will probably mean more to you than anyone in his class.’
‘Because you’re a better teacher than him?’
‘Never in a million years. He taught me everything I know, and he knows so much more besides. No, it will mean more because you’re using it to find out something you actually need to know, not just meaningless examples.’ He went on to demonstrate how the ratio between two sides of a triangle is always the same if the angle is the same. They used a table to estimate the slope was about forty degrees.
Pleased he’d grasped the tricky concept, Reagan still had a small reservation about the result. ‘This is all very approximate. Don’t you need to work it out exactly?’
‘I could do, but I only measured by counting paces so it’s not worth it. And we’re talking about quite big numbers, so a small difference won’t matter.’ Kalen then used the sine to calculate that for a line of ten paces, the actual height of the line should be fifteen and a half paces. The calculations were quite complicated and triangles invaded Reagan’s dreams that night. They all had right angles and he was busily pacing out the longest side and the shortest side each time.
The dream remained with him when he woke up and, as he ate his breakfast, he finally understood how it worked. He ran to Kalen’s office as though his feet had wings, only to find a short note. “Another crop pattern. Come to your willow.”
He felt sure it would be another triangle but he overheard snatches of conversation from people returning from the hill.
‘Bit boring this time, just one big circle.’
‘Not even a proper circle, more like a spider’s web.’
‘Hardly worth climbing the hill for.’
As before, Malduc’s marshals were keeping people away from the actual pattern until it had been examined in detail, but the man himself could not be seen. Kalen called to the guard to let Reagan in and he trod carefully on the carpet of flattened corn. There was nothing smooth or rounded about the shape at all; it was made up completely from straight lines. Once again the figure five seemed to be important. Standing at the centre he could see quite clearly the hole had five edges – a pentagon. Five lines of five stalks were radiating out from the centre to five corners. So the entire shape was a pentagon.
By noon, Kalen seemed happy he’d measured everything as accurately as possible. He’d covered both sides of three slates with sketches and measurements. While his mentor finished off and packed up, Reagan ran up to the top of the hill to confirm his ideas of what it looked like. It was incredible from above. The lower half looked more like half of a hexagon than a pentagon, but for some reason, the number six simply wasn’t important.
When they got back, Kalen made an accurate drawing. ‘As I thought. This pentagon fits the first four points exactly.’
‘What about the fifth point? Where does it come out?’
‘Precisely at Somerford. You were right, Reagan, well done. Malduc will be pleased to get this confirmation. He’s out visiting some of the families of the infected children at the moment. He’s hoping there will be no more because the work is starting on the new horse.’
34 Still Image or Flowing Picture?
Everything was ready now for the horse. As soon as the final design was decided, the team could start work. On the day before the judging, Thearl visited Kalen in a state of great agitation. ‘This is terrible. I have drawn two designs, but I have no idea which one to enter.’
‘Do you have them with you?’
‘Are you mad or stupid or both? Why would I risk damaging them in an unnecessary journey? Quite apart from the fact some unscrupulous person might get a glimpse and give hints to one of my rivals.’
‘You are jesting, right? It’s just a competition.’
‘Do not tease, Kalen. You must know the importance attached to this. It’s the most prestigious commission an artist
could get. To have your name associated with a white horse is to change your fortune. And that’s before you consider the materials included in the prize.’
‘I don’t know how you expect me to help you without actually seeing the designs. But it’s just as well. Malduc has asked me to be part of the judging panel. If I saw an entry beforehand, I could not give an unbiased opinion.’
‘You mean you wouldn’t be prepared to put in a good word for an old friend? Only jesting. I wouldn’t want to risk your exalted position by even suggesting such a thing. Can’t you just ask your crystal if I should enter each one?’
‘I think we can do better than that.’ He asked the truth pendulum if Thearl should enter his life-like design and the crystal moved just beyond the five. ‘That seems conclusive.’
‘What does it mean?
‘Well, five means definitely yes and you got about five point one.’
‘Is there any point asking about the other one?’
‘Certainly.’ Kalen asked about the image design and got another five point one. ‘I had a feeling that might happen. It seems you should enter them both.’
‘Am I allowed to do that?’
‘The rules say you can enter one in each category. The judges will not know the names so make sure you do not sign the canvas. Your name will be registered against a number.’
‘Thank you for that.’
‘I didn’t really do anything. Good luck.’
Reagan was not involved in the first stage of judging, but Malduc asked him to spend an hour in the room with all of the entries and choose his top two in each category. He wrote the numbers on a slate which Malduc locked in a drawer without looking at them.
The panel consisted of Malduc, Kalen and Ganieda, along with Tegan, the council member for the Somerford area, Clennan, the retired farmer who’d become a local expert and Jeffrey and Tilde, the May King and Queen to give a younger view. Regan watched the proceedings from the recessed area at the back of the room. Malduc had asked him to forget his chosen numbers and focus on the sense of the discussions rather than the actual words to see if he could judge the strength of reaction each horse provoked, positive or negative.
It was a lengthy process. Many of the arguments went round in circles, particularly between Clennan and Tegan who seemed to have very different views about what the people of Somerford would like. Ganieda tried hard to calm them both down, restating each point so it did not sound quite so antagonistic. Jeffrey was overawed by the event, but Tilde was not afraid to give her opinions and indicate when she thought something was better or worse. She spoke out about one of the more life-like designs.
‘I think number twelve is very good, but it has got too much detail with the saddle and the way the back legs are set together. That would be hard to cut.’
‘You make a good point. It’s not just the cutting, but the scouring. When weeds grow up around thin lines of turf it’s difficult to keep to the original lines and the horse loses some of its personality.’ Clennan had some experience in these matters.
‘Don’t you mean some of its detail?’ Tegan didn’t share the farmer’s close connection with the horses.
‘But it’s the detail which gives the horses their personality. That’s why I’ve never been so keen on the Marlburgh horse, she’s neither image nor real but something in between. And there’s no detail at all.’
‘Yes, there is. It just gets lost because …’
Malduc intervened. ‘Gentleman, I really think you should take these differences out of the meeting. Can I see a show of hands for people who want to keep painting twelve in the final two? One, two. And those who don’t? One, two, three, four and myself makes five.’
He made a note on the slate. ‘We will have to make sure we take Tilde’s point about cutting into consideration for the image horses. So, the two finalists for the picture design are numbers five and eleven. If you would like to take a short break while we set up the next set, please be back in ten minutes when there will be a fresh pot of tea.’
The next session passed by a lot quicker as there were only seven designs; evidently it was more difficult to create an image of a horse standing still. Three of the designs were discounted as the horses looked as though they were moving. They were very good, but Malduc set them aside. When they looked at the remaining four, there were only two which people liked at all. One of the others was very good but it had the upper body of a warrior like a mythical Centaur.
Eventually they were down to the final four horses and Malduc suggested they pause for lunch. When everyone left, he called Reagan in and reached for the slate with Reagan’s choices, reading them out. ‘5, 11, 13 and 17. Exactly the same. That is uncanny.’
‘Not really. They were the obvious choices.’
‘To you maybe. Now, can I ask you for a final choice? Don’t tell me, I want you to write it down on the slate and put it back in my drawer. Don’t spend more than ten minutes. Please join us for lunch. I understand it involves an excellent salmon and some early season potatoes.’
Reagan stared at two of the horses. He’d always known it would be between these two, as soon as he saw them. The life-like one reminded him of Blaise so much it wasn’t true, but the image horse would look exactly right on the small hill. It spoke of distant ancestors, of Saxons and Romans and maybe even Hengist himself. He wrote the number on Malduc’s slate and went off to join them for lunch.
35 The Right Horse
Reagan couldn’t begin to describe the excitement he felt when work started on the Somerford horse. It felt like his own personal project, and he was thrilled when his parents agreed he could stay in the area.
Clennan was so pleased with the fact his village would finally have its own horse, he’d invited Kalen and Reagan to stay at his farm for as long as they wanted. He wasn’t entirely happy with the choice of horse, preferring the more realistic one which looked like Blaise. However, when Reagan showed him the pictures he’d found of Hengist’s original banner, Clennan was adamant it was the only one he’d considered worthy.
Using Kalen’s measurements, they marked out the outline of Thearl’s winning image. The painter was staying with relatives nearby and he came along every day, filled with the same sense of reverence for the proceedings. Using white hides to fill the shape, they pegged them down over the turf with metal staples.
‘Are you sure about these calculations Kalen? Even with the foreshortening, the body seems deeper than it should be. He mustn’t look like a load mule.’
‘Oh, it’s a he, is it?’
‘With a mane like that, what else could he be? This is Hengst, a warrior stallion.’
‘We are ready to test it. We’ll check it from three positions and you can sketch any adjustments on a slate.’
It took every ounce of resolve not to look back as they followed the bend of the Avon west and then headed north toward the spirit line. They were teasing each other with wagers as to who would be first to crack under pressure and turn to look before they reached the wood. The insults were flying thick and fast and no-one was willing to weaken, even as they reached the trees. ‘This is stupid. We all proved we are men of iron will. I shall count to three and we’ll turn together. One, two …’
But before Kalen reached three, all of them turned in perfect unison. There were no sounds for several moments; each one was overcome with a sense of awe. Even in a rough outline, filled in with the hides of cows, Hengst was a sight to behold.
Thearl broke the silence. ‘This is more than the work of men. My horse, our horse, was meant to live on that hill.’
‘It’s as though he’s always been there, since the Hengist people first came to Wessex.’ Reagan barely breathed the words as his eyes closed.
‘Malduc is going to be so impressed. You can be sure of regular work after this, Thearl.’
‘If I never draw anything again it matters naught. I could never do better than this. Your calculations were perfect Kalen. He looks exactly as he did in
my dream. I should know better than to doubt your skill with numbers.’
‘Reagan checked them. In fact, none of this would be possible without him.’ Kalen turned to the boy, then shouted in alarm. Reagan had slumped over his horse as though asleep, but he did not seem to be breathing.
36 Problems & Setbacks
Reagan woke with a powerful hunger and an even more powerful thirst, but someone had thoughtfully left a flagon of water, topped with a clean glass beaker. After quenching the burning in his mouth and throat with some of the cool, clear water, he looked around. He did not immediately recognise the room. Then it came to him; he was still in the farmer’s house at Somerford. The last thing he remembered was turning at the forest to look upon the first outline of Thearl’s white horse upon the motte.
He tried to get up, but a sharp pain behind his eyes warned him this was probably not the best of ideas. The small pottery bell next to the water jug tinkled when he picked it up.
‘Well, now. Not a moment too soon. You had until the eleventh hour today, then they were to send you back in a cart to Aveburgh for Ganieda to work her magic.’
A dark-haired woman answered the bell and checked his temperature and pulse with the skill of a healer. He recognised something familiar about her and she noticed his scrutiny and chuckled. ‘You can’t remember where you’ve seen me before, can you?’ She made a small curtsey. ‘Darma, local healer, wife of Draedan who keeps the local inn.’
‘Of course. You looked after me before. I’m not usually this sickly. That’s not true. Recently, I seem to be ill all the time.’
‘Probably because you’re a chosen child.’ She said this with a tone which suggested she was jesting.
Reagan struggled to process all the information. ‘What do you mean I had until eleven today. What day is it?’
