Magnus Mills - The Field of the Cloth of Gold

‘They’re certainly biding their time,’ remarked Hen. ‘Unless, of course, they’re undecided about what to do next.’

‘Well,’ said Isabella, ‘I wish they’d make their minds up.’

Suddenly, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt impelled to put an end to the deadlock. Without a word to the others I set off towards the crossing, uncertain of exactly what I would do when I got there. The men at the other side saw me approaching, but stayed where they were: obviously they were allowing me to come to them. I was struck by the thought that this could be viewed either as a tactical advantage or a sign of weakness. Either way, there was no turning back now, so I entered the shallows and waded to the opposite bank. As I gained dry land, the man with the purple sash strode forward to meet me.

The opening exchange was polite enough.

‘Morning,’ he said.

‘Morning,’ I replied.

‘Weather’s freshening up.’

‘Yes, seems that way.’

‘I expect the water’s cold.’

‘It’s not too bad.’

He regarded me in silence for a few moments, then nodded at the shimmering white tent.

‘That yours, is it?’ he asked.

He knew very well it wasn’t mine: he and his subordinates had been spying on the field for the past twenty-four hours, and they knew precisely which was my tent, which was Thomas’s and so forth.

‘No,’ I said. ‘It isn’t.’

‘So who’s in charge then?’

‘Nobody.’

‘Really?’ he said. ‘That’s an odd arrangement.’

‘Not for us, it isn’t. As a matter of fact, it’s perfectly normal.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

His tone so far had been conversational, probably in an attempt to put me at my ease.

Now, however, he dispensed with the subtlety.

‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘State your business.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘some of us who’ve been here for a while were wondering what your plans might be.’

He gave me a quizzical look. ‘What difference does it make how long you’ve been here?’

‘It makes a difference to some,’ I assured him.

‘I see.’ He paused briefly before continuing. ‘Our plans,’ he said at length, ‘depend on what’s on offer.’

‘Ah.’

‘So if you’ll spell out your terms we can take it from there.’

‘Right.’

I was beginning to realize I’d crossed the river entirely unprepared for this encounter. I had no idea what kind of offer he was referring to, or how it could possibly affect his plans. Moreover, it was becoming clear that I needed to be circumspect in my dealings with these people. I could tell they weren’t here just to play games: on the contrary, the outcome of our meeting could be critical.

‘Before we start,’ I said, ‘may I enquire who I’m talking to?’

‘I would have assumed you knew that already,’ he answered tersely. ‘I am Julian.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Yes, of course.’

I glanced towards the three conical tents, where the other men stood observing the proceedings. From the peak of each tent flew a white pennant, emblazoned with a purple letter J.

Julian, in the meantime, was waiting for my next move.

‘So?’ he said.

‘I’ll probably need to consult with the others,’ I replied.

‘Consult?’ he repeated. ‘But surely you were sent over to negotiate.’

‘Sort of, yes,’ I said.

‘What do you mean “sort of”?’

Julian’s manner was getting increasingly irritable, unfriendly even, and I was at a loss for what to say next without causing further upset. Just then, however, he began peering into the distance.

‘Aha,’ he said. ‘Who’s this coming?’

Immediately I turned and saw Thomas entering the river at the far side, his white robes swirling all around him. Julian instantly forgot about me and marched to the water’s edge; then he stood stock still, waiting, as Thomas drew near. His followers, meanwhile, watched attentively.

I never thought I’d be pleased to see Thomas wading across the river, but on this occasion I was more than pleased: I was delighted, not to mention thoroughly relieved. Undoubtedly, I’d taken on more than I could handle. All at once, with Thomas riding to my rescue, I felt a great burden being lifted from me.

Nonetheless, there was a price to pay. As Thomas stepped ashore, he shook hands courteously with Julian. The pair then came wandering inland together, deep in conversation. Evidently, Julian had invited Thomas to inspect the three conical tents. The route they took passed within a few yards of where I was standing, yet neither of them granted me so much as a nod. They simply ignored me and continued on their way. Julian’s underlings witnessed this blatant snub and openly smirked about it amongst themselves. In response, I turned and stalked off to the river bank. Next minute I was in the shallows and heading back towards the Great Field.

By the time I reached the opposite shore, my mood had subsided into sheer disgruntlement. The episode with Julian had been highly embarrassing, and I was inclined to make directly for my tent and lie low for several days. What I didn’t want to face was a reception committee, so when I saw Isabella and Hartopp coming to meet me I quickened my pace. It was no use, though: they cut across and intercepted me before I reached sanctuary.

‘What’s this?’ I demanded. ‘A post-mortem?’

Hartopp appeared startled by my harsh words.

‘No,’ he said, ‘we’ve come to congratulate you.’

‘Oh?’

‘A brilliant move,’ he added.

I stared at him with bewilderment. ‘What move?’

‘Don’t be modest,’ said Isabella. ‘It was you who set the wheels in motion. You went and parleyed with the newcomers and prepared the ground for Thomas. Excellent work!’

For a few moments I allowed myself to bask in this unexpected praise, then I offered a verdict of my own.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘he’ll need to keep his wits about him when he’s talking to those people.’

‘Why, what are they like?’ asked Hartopp.

‘I only spoke to Julian,’ I replied, ‘and he struck me as a rather prickly customer.’

‘Is he the one with the purple sash?’

‘Correct.’

‘He looks very athletic,’ said Isabella.

‘An apt description,’ I said. ‘Yes, I imagine he’s quite competitive when it comes to the cut and thrust.’

‘Still,’ said Hartopp, ‘they’ve only got three tents, so we’ll most likely manage to find them a place.’

Hartopp was being his usual generous self, but I had a feeling that matters weren’t as simple as he thought. Somehow, I couldn’t picture the newcomers meekly settling amongst the rest of us. The way they’d surveyed the field from a distance suggested that their intentions were altogether much grander; and Julian’s remarks about what might be on offer only underlined my suspicions.

At the other side of the river, Thomas’s mission was ongoing. We watched as he was given a guided tour of the conical tents; then he sat down for further discussions with Julian. These lasted an hour or so before the pair of them rose abruptly to their feet and headed for the crossing. Side by side they entered the water and waded towards the Great Field.

‘Here they come,’ announced Isabella.

I noted with interest that she didn’t venture down to greet Julian; neither did Hartopp.

As soon as they stepped ashore, Thomas led his guest to the shimmering white tent, presumably for a reciprocal tour of inspection. Afterwards, Julian spent a good while pacing around in the south-east, gazing in all directions and generally studying the lie of the land. Thomas, in the meantime, stood quietly aside.

Darkness was falling when I saw Julian returning across the river. Isabella and Hartopp had long since drifted back to their tents, both apparently in the belief that the meeting had reached a satisfactory conclusion. I wasn’t quite so sure. Over the past few days Thomas seemed to have lost much of his previous strut and swagger. For reasons of his own he’d shouldered the mantle of responsibility, but I was uncertain whether he was a match for Julian.