Magnus Mills - The Field of the Cloth of Gold

‘Yes, probably,’ said Hen, ‘although I can’t imagine who.’

‘Me neither.’

Hen’s tent was standing nearby, and I noticed that during the past few days he’d added an extra flysheet.

‘This dry spell can’t last for ever,’ he remarked, by way of explanation. ‘We’re due a downpour very soon.’

Hen had made similar utterances ever since I’d known him, and I was quite used to his seasonal predictions. Generally I paid them little heed because it was more or less impossible to forecast the weather in the Great Field. Today, however, Hen’s earnest tone of voice suggested his gloomy outlook might just be correct. I realized I’d made no preparations whatsoever for the onset of autumn, and I determined to deal with the matter over the next few days. As I pondered all this, Hen reached into his tent and produced a tin box.

‘Like a biscuit?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes, please,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t know you had any.’

‘They’re a recent acquisition.’

The biscuit he offered me was familiar in size, shape and texture, and was imprinted with the letter J.

‘Aha,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen these before.’

‘Thought you might have,’ said Hen. ‘I traded them with Yadegarian for some supplies.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Hopefully it’ll encourage him to bake some more.’

Hen closed the tin box and put it away.

‘Do you mind if I save this for later?’ I enquired.

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘Be my guest.’

After thanking him again, I returned to my tent and stored the biscuit in a safe place (next to my dish and spoon).

Down at the crossing, Thomas’s long wait seemed to be coming to an end. He’d ceased pacing back and forth and was now peering fixedly into the distance. I followed the line of his gaze, and after a few moments I spotted a troop of men advancing from the south, all laden with baggage. Immediately, Thomas entered the water and waded over to meet them. He appeared quite tense, as if uncertain of the new arrivals, and as they gathered around him I couldn’t help thinking how large they all were. He greeted two of them with cautious handshakes and they held a brief discussion; then he turned and led the entire troop towards the Great Field. By now the light was beginning to fade, but when they neared the bank I could clearly see that they were all wearing iron helmets. After a further word from Thomas, they removed these and stowed them away.

Something else caught my attention too. Amongst the heavy baggage I noticed two or three rather delicate items. A strange sensation passed through me as I recognized an eiderdown (tied with silk cord), a tapestry (wrapped in ticking), and a collection of velvet cushions (loose).

With darkness falling, Thomas directed his guests to the south-east and they started setting up camp. Meanwhile, at the far side of the embankment, Hogust’s people resumed their revelries, apparently oblivious to the newcomers. It was the usual story: a constant stream of disturbances that continued late into the evening. I could still hear them cavorting in the moonlight when I went to bed.

Needless to say I endured a very restless night, and on this occasion it wasn’t Hogust keeping me awake. The sight of Isabella’s belongings had left me wondering where she could be, while at the same time guessing the probable answer. Finally, at dawn, I gave up trying to sleep and went outside. Over in the south-east, a ring of tents surrounded Thomas’s effulgent dwelling. There was no sign of Thomas; nor could I see Hen or any of the others. For the time being I had the field completely to myself, so I decided to make the most of the peace and quiet.

One thing was definite: I had no intention of being excluded from any part of the field simply because Thomas had chosen to return. I was free to roam wherever I wanted; therefore, I sauntered across to have a closer look at the newly pitched tents. Their occupants were presumably asleep inside, so I approached stealthily and gave them a thorough examination. The nearest tent was cream and turquoise in colour, with steep walls and a pointed roof. The next was orange and purple. To judge by its rather ‘weathered’ condition it was very well-travelled, and I imagined it had been employed on countless expeditions to faraway places. The edge of the roof was encircled by an ornate fringe, and from its peak flew a forked pennant. I noticed this had an unusual design, so I stood on tiptoe to try and get a better view. Next instant somebody grabbed my ankles, my feet were jerked from under me and I fell flat on my face. Quickly my arms were pinioned behind my back; then I felt my assailant’s knee bearing down on my neck. I was completely unable to move, and I could scarcely breathe.

A few seconds passed, and then a voice spoke quietly in my ear. ‘Not planning to stick your nose into my affairs, are you?’

When I failed to answer, the knee was pressed down harder, so eventually I shook my head.

‘Does that mean “no”?’

I managed a nod.

‘Good,’ said the voice. ‘In future, I don’t want any comments, meddling or interference. You must understand that what I do and where I go is none of your business. Now, have you got the message?’

I nodded once more, and at last I was allowed to breathe again. The pressure was removed from my neck and my arms were released, but for a while I remained lying face down in the grass. I was in a mild state of shock, partly because of the casual violence, and partly because the voice belonged to Isabella.

‘Come on,’ she said at length. ‘Stand up.’

‘Alright,’ I answered. ‘Give me a chance.’

I got slowly to my feet and brushed myself down before glancing around the field.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Isabella. ‘There’s nobody watching.’

She was clad all in crimson, and stood eyeing me with her hands on her hips.

‘How did you do that?’ I asked. ‘You’re smaller than me.’

‘I’ve learned a few things on my travels,’ she replied.

‘So you thought you’d teach me a lesson.’

‘Correct.’

‘Even though I haven’t done anything.’

‘Not yet, no,’ she said, ‘but your track record is hardly encouraging. Let’s call it a preventative strike.’

Inside the tent, there was a loud grunt followed by a yawn. Somebody had just woken up, so Isabella put her finger to her lips and we moved away a short distance.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to your exploits and I’ll continue with my own. Our paths needn’t cross again.’

‘Is this your final decision?’ I enquired.

Isabella gazed at me and shook her head sadly, but she had nothing further to add. Instead, she turned and walked silently away. As I watched her go, I debated the possibility that she actually meant the opposite of what she said; that she’d subjected me to a kind of ‘rough wooing’ with the promise of better things to come. My hopes were dashed, however, when she reached the shimmering white tent and slipped gracefully inside.

Meanwhile, the grunts and yawns were getting louder and more persistent, so I walked briskly to the river bank and followed it all the way round to the west. I was just passing Hen’s tent when he came out and wished me a good morning. I could barely bring myself to reply, but I murmured some nicety and together we stood looking towards the south-east.

‘I see Thomas has company,’ Hen remarked.

I presumed he was referring to the new tents, but I couldn’t be sure. Hen often knew more than he let on.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Arrived late yesterday afternoon.’

‘“Late” being the operative word,’ said Hen. ‘No wonder Thomas was pacing up and down so much.’