Magnus Mills - The Field of the Cloth of Gold

I received a shock, however, as I drew nearer the gang of workers. All at once I recognized the cooks from the field kitchen: the very same men who until recently had stirred my milk pudding. Among them was the cook who’d served me on my first visit to the encampment. His name was Yadegarian and he’d told me about the various types of pudding on offer. As I recalled, his advice had been most helpful. I’d met his colleagues on subsequent days, and they’d struck me as a friendly bunch. Today, though, I couldn’t help noticing how downcast they all appeared. When they saw me approaching they ceased their futile endeavours and regarded me listlessly.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘What are you fellows doing here?’

‘We’re supposed to be digging a trench,’ said Yadegarian, ‘but we’re not really cut out for this sort of work.’

‘So why’ve you got to do it?’

By way of answer, he and the other cooks merely bowed their heads. It was almost as if they were ashamed of something.

‘Are you in trouble?’ I asked.

They all looked at one another for a moment, then Yadegarian spoke.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we are.’

‘Why?’

‘We produced a shortage of milk pudding. We measured the ingredients in the wrong quantities.’

‘Not again!’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘And this is your punishment?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good grief,’ I said. ‘What kind of regime is it, exactly?’

The cooks ventured no opinion. Instead, they just stood there, silent and forlorn.

I puffed out my cheeks and stared thoughtfully at the length of string stretching away into the distance.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘it looks as if you’ve no choice but to get on with the job.’

‘But we’ve no idea how to do it!’ protested Yadegarian. He was plainly very concerned.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ I replied. ‘I can give you a few pointers.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, for instance, you’re all wearing sandals. They’re wholly inappropriate for heavy labouring: you’d be much better off in proper workboots.’

I indicated my own footwear.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Yadegarian, with a glimmer of recognition. ‘I think we can get those from our quartermaster.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘As soon as possible then.’

‘Alright.’

With a wave of my hand I grouped the cooks around me so they could see what I was talking about.

‘Next,’ I continued, ‘you’ll need to learn about the wide range of tools at your disposal. Each has a specific role: pick-axes are for breaking up the earth; spades are for digging; shovels are for excavation: you’ll soon get the hang of it and then I can show you how to use them correctly.’

In order to get the job started, I grabbed a spade and dug the first section of ground myself. The going was fairly easy, and I soon had the beginnings of a trench. Alongside it lay a neat pile of earth.

‘There you are,’ I said. ‘Just use the string line as a guide and it should be nice and straight when it’s finished.’

Obviously I couldn’t leave them unsupervised, at least not until they’d tried doing it themselves, so I watched while they took turns with the spades, shovels and picks. Initially they struggled, but I offered plenty of encouragement and gradually they developed a suitable work rate. Even so, it had become clear that digging the trench was no small undertaking. By my reckoning, the job could last four or five days. In the meantime, I assumed the cooks were excused kitchen duties. When I asked them, however, they all shook their heads.

‘The demands of the kitchen remain the same,’ explained Yadegarian. ‘We’re having to get up extra early just to keep on top of everything.’

‘How early?’

‘Well, this morning we were baking biscuits before dawn.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘I like biscuits.’

‘They’re our speciality,’ said Yadegarian.

‘Not milk pudding?’

‘No.’

I mentioned that Hartopp was a keen advocate of biscuits and always maintained a copious stock; but Yadegarian seemed too preoccupied by the present task to absorb the information. It was patently weighing heavily upon him.

Naturally, I felt rather guilty about standing idly by when the cooks had been working all hours. Therefore, I decided to pitch in and help them finish the trench. I selected a shovel as my weapon of choice; then I set to and laboured until late afternoon. With an extra man in the team we made excellent progress, though the cooks began to flag when evening drew near. Finally, at dusk, I suggested we called a halt, and they thanked me for my assistance before wandering back to the encampment. The trench was starting to take definite shape and form, and as I gazed at our handiwork I suddenly realized that neither Hartopp, Brigant nor any of the others had been over to have a look. It was too late now, of course, because it was almost dark, but I was surprised that nobody had come and shown any interest in the project. Actually, when I thought about it, they were all noticeable by their absence, and vaguely I wondered what could be the reason.

On the third evening I received a visit from Aldebaran. I was tidying up after another day’s work when I saw him approaching from the south-east, evidently with the purpose of inspecting the trench. I was glad to see him: the job was three-quarters complete and I was looking forward to showing him what we’d accomplished. Our trench was deep and wide and unerringly straight, all in accordance with the surveyor’s plans. As a matter of fact, I was so pleased with the cooks that I’d let them go off slightly earlier than usual. I thought they’d earned a bit of a break, especially since it had been so warm during the afternoon. The fine weather had returned at last, and in the dry conditions we’d made good headway. Now, with night falling, the sky was tinged pink and silver. As the sun sank towards the horizon, Aldebaran’s advancing figure cast a long shadow across the field.

When he reached the trench he paused and stood peering in.

‘Exemplary,’ he declared. ‘Should be very effective.’

‘Couple more days and it’ll be finished,’ I said, ‘providing the weather holds.’

‘I gather you’ve taken charge of the operation.’

‘Yes, I have,’ I affirmed. ‘They seem to work much better when they receive direct orders.’

‘Indeed.’ Aldebaran reflected for a moment, and then said, ‘It’s a shame we can’t reward you with some milk pudding. Unfortunately, there’s been a hiatus in the production process and we’ve run out entirely.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘The cooks told me all about it.’

Aldebaran glanced at me.

‘Been blubbing to you, have they?’ he asked.

‘No, on the contrary,’ I replied, ‘they’ve taken their punishment in their stride.’

‘Really?’

‘They’re turning into a proper workforce.’

‘Then plainly we’re in your debt.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ I said. ‘Glad to be of assistance.’

After this courteous exchange I accompanied Aldebaran as he walked the length of the trench. For a while he was silent, but then another thought occurred to him.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘it’s not punishment: it’s discipline.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realize.’

‘No need to apologize,’ he remarked. ‘Just setting you straight, that’s all. We’re very particular about these details.’

‘Right.’

The inspection now being over, Aldebaran murmured some pleasantry and departed. I spent a few minutes watching the sunset, then returned to the comparative comfort of my tent. I slept well that night, just as I had every night since I’d been involved with the venture. It had been hard graft, but quite fulfilling in its own way, and now the end was in sight.