The Field of the Cloth of Gold

13

My plan was to surprise everybody by moving at first light the following morning. When dawn came, however, it was me who got the surprise. When I looked out I saw that more tents had arrived overnight. There were nearly a dozen of them, all different colours, and they formed a second, outer circle around Thomas and Isabella. The couple were now hugely outnumbered, and it was obvious who was responsible for the influx. The new tents were very similar to those of Horsefall and Griep, with steep walls and pointed roofs, and I assumed they’d invited some friends and acquaintances of their own. Without doubt, the Great Field’s fame was spreading far and wide, and deservedly so. It struck me as odd, though, that the latest contingent had chosen to arrive under cover of darkness. As I gazed at the vast array of tents billowing in the breeze, with pennants fluttering and flags flying, I wondered if this was what Isabella had envisaged all those months ago.

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.’

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 have 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.’