Magnus Mills - The Field of the Cloth of Gold

‘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.