The Field of the Cloth of Gold (12 page)

Over subsequent days, various attempts were made to dissuade Isabella from leaving. She was visited in turn by Brigant, Hen and Hartopp (accompanied by his two contrite sons), and showered with compliments and bouquets. They promised they’d do anything she asked, if only she would stay. It was all to no avail, of course: Isabella wasn’t listening any more. Instead, she continued with her work. Once the reeds were sufficiently dry, she twisted them together into a strong, pliable fibre which she carried in bundles to the east; then she began skilfully fashioning a boat. We looked on with admiration as it gradually took form. Hartopp, Hollis and Eldred were especially fascinated, having never seen Isabella’s original vessel, but they felt obliged to keep their distance and could only observe from afar. Finally, when it was complete, she hauled it to the water’s edge. It was sleek and elegant, with a high, curved prow.

The following morning, I watched from my doorway as Isabella made ready to leave. Without ceremony, she took down her crimson tent, folded it, and stowed it in the boat. Her other possessions were stacked nearby, ready for loading, and all at once she turned and beckoned me to join her. Quickly, and with renewed hope, I crossed the field to where she stood waiting.

‘Right, I’m off now,’ she said in a businesslike manner. ‘You’d better give these back to your friends.’

Isabella reached amongst the assorted baggage and produced two shiny spades.

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘we wondered where they’d got to.’

‘Yes, well, I thought I might need them,’ she said, ‘but I don’t now.’

By this time, Hartopp and the others had arrived to witness Isabella’s departure. When she saw them she bristled with irritation.

‘I don’t want any fuss,’ she announced. ‘Keep out of the way please.’

She pushed her boat into the shallows, loaded the last few items, then stepped aboard. A minute later she was in the middle of the river, floating steadily downstream.

‘Bye, Isabella!’ we all chorused, and she raised her arm in salute.

As she disappeared around the furthest curve, I noticed a flock of excited birds whirling overhead.

10

I suspected that Yadegarian and his colleagues would be in trouble for losing the spades, so it was imperative to get them returned as quickly as possible. For a while I considered smuggling them into the encampment when I went to collect my dish and spoon, but in reality I knew this was unfeasible: they were far too large to conceal in my clothing. Ultimately, therefore, I decided that openness was the best policy. I waited for the quiet period between breakfast and dinner; then I grabbed the spades and set off towards the field kitchen.

It soon became clear that I needn’t have worried: there were plainly more important matters at hand than a couple of missing spades. The moment I entered the camp I sensed it was in a state of disarray. The change was only slight, hardly anything really, but even so the signs were unmistakable: the flags and pennants looked ragged and worn, the avenues were deeply rutted, and some of the tents had begun to fade in the sunlight. I was contemplating all this when Aldebaran emerged from a side alley. He seemed rather distracted and almost walked straight past me.

‘Hello, Aldebaran,’ I said.

He stopped and peered in my direction.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I was miles away.’

‘I’m just bringing these spades back.’

‘Ah, good.’

‘Isabella borrowed them for a day or two.’

‘Isabella,’ he intoned. ‘She’s gone now, hasn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘she left this morning.’

Aldebaran nodded his approval.

‘We didn’t mean to drive her away,’ he said, ‘but frankly we found her very difficult.’

‘Yes, so I surmised.’

‘We bent over backwards to accommodate her, yet all she did was bombard us with complaints and criticism.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m going to miss her all the same.’

Aldebaran gave no answer, and when I glanced at him I realized I’d lost his attention. Obviously his mind was focused on other concerns, so I made my excuses and slipped away.

When I entered the field kitchen, I discovered further evidence of decline: the great cast-iron cooking pots were still ranged along the counter, but now they all stood cold and unused. Yadegarian was working nearby, cutting a loaf of bread into very thin slices. We exchanged greetings, then I handed him the two spades.

‘I’d forgotten all about these,’ he remarked. ‘Thanks, though. I’ll put them in the store when the quartermaster’s not looking.’

‘You weren’t in trouble then?’

‘No,’ said Yadegarian. ‘Actually he didn’t even notice they were missing, he’s been so busy.’

‘What with?’

‘Logistical problems mainly. For some reason the supply lines have failed and our provisions are running low.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘We’ve enough to feed the few, but not the many, so we’ll soon be going onto half rations.’

‘Any idea what’s caused it?’

‘None at all. Eamont set off a couple of days ago to see if he could find out, but so far there’s been no word from him.’

Apparently the cooks had received instructions that all bread was to be toasted so it would last longer. Yadegarian loaded the grill and asked me to keep an eye on it while he sought out my dish and spoon.

‘They’re perfectly safe,’ he assured me, ‘but I can’t quite remember where we put them. Probably out the back somewhere. Won’t be a minute.’

With that, he vanished into a recess at the rear of the kitchen. I heard him rummaging through various crates and boxes, and in the meantime I reflected on the news he’d just given me. Presumably the dearth of provisions explained why Aldebaran had been so preoccupied when I met him: it must have been a heavy responsibility, and no doubt he was planning contingency measures. I was certain the shortages were merely temporary: from what I’d seen of these people, a major crisis was sure to be averted. Nonetheless, a chink had been exposed in their armour which Isabella and the others would have found most heartening. A feeling of exuberance swept over me as I dwelt on this thought, but it soon faded when I remembered Isabella’s abrupt departure.

Plainly Yadegarian didn’t trust me to mind the toast, because all of a sudden he came rushing back with a spoon in one hand and a dish in the other.

‘Watch out!’ he cried.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said, quickly removing the pan from the grill. ‘I’ve got it all under control.’

In fact, the toast was a little overdone for Yadegarian’s liking. He gazed at it in despair for several long seconds, then gave a sigh and began slicing another loaf of bread.

‘Help yourself to that lot,’ he murmured. ‘I can’t serve it to our people: they’re far too fussy.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ I said. ‘Got any butter?’

Yadegarian ceased work and gave me a penetrating look.

‘I told you the cupboard was bare,’ he said. ‘The butter ran out days ago.’

Yadegarian may have been a novice when it came to digging trenches, but here in the kitchen he was firmly in charge. It occurred to me I was probably being less of a help than a hindrance, so I took some toast, along with my dish and spoon, thanked him again and made a swift exit.

Up in the north, beyond the embankment, I noticed that Brigant’s tent no longer stood alone. Seemingly, a few members of Hartopp’s party had decided to move inland from the north-east, and there were now three or four angular tents arrayed across the slope. I was surprised that none of them had penetrated further south, where the grass grew thicker and richer, the terrain was more favourable, and the rain (according to local belief) less frequent. It was a golden opportunity, yet they all chose to stay away.

Hartopp himself was plainly going nowhere. His three upturned boats were marooned in a huge clump of nettles which virtually hid them from view. As a consequence, he and his sons hadn’t been near them in weeks. The boats were out of commission for the foreseeable future, and it was Hartopp’s stated intention to leave them exactly where they were (he said he liked the way they blended in with the foliage). Elsewhere, the forces of nature were equally hard at work. The embankment, for example, was gradually being enveloped by a sward of fresh greenery, with new shoots appearing every day over its entire length. Other parts of the field were dotted with thistles and similar species, while reeds and rushes continued to flourish at the water’s edge.

It had been a long and bountiful summer. Even so, I had a feeling that change was on the way.

One evening at sunset I heard the familiar call of the bugle. I peered into the south-east and watched as people began lining up for their supper. It was a scene I’d witnessed on many previous occasions. Generally at meal times the camp ran like clockwork and queues tended to move fairly swiftly. Tonight, however, progress seemed rather sluggish. The cause of the delay was unclear, but I vaguely recalled Yadegarian telling me the cupboard was bare. I’d taken this to be a figure of speech, but perhaps it was nearer the truth than I realized. If so, then it was quite possible supper had been cancelled. By now the light was fading rapidly and there was little to be seen through the encroaching gloom. I listened attentively. Faint voices of protest could be heard in the distance, then they faded away as presumably the queue dispersed and people retired to their tents.

Suddenly a lone figure emerged from the shadows at the far side of the crossing. I knew at a glance who it was: whenever Eamont had an urgent message he always rushed along, bent forward in his haste to carry the news. Now, as he returned from his assignment, I sensed that important events were about to unfold and come to fruition. Without even pausing, Eamont entered the water and waded towards the Great Field. Once ashore, he headed for the encampment, where he was quickly lost from view.

My premonition proved to be correct. A short while later, blazing torches began moving around in the south-east, accompanied by a series of shouted commands and responses. Apparently the populace was being mobilized for some purpose or other. The sound of frenetic activity persisted throughout the hours of darkness, but not until morning was its full extent revealed. When dawn arrived I looked out of my doorway and saw the whole camp reduced to practically nothing. All the tents had been packed up ready for transportation; in fact, the leading columns were already on the move. Long trains of men carrying baggage and equipment forded the river and headed slowly southward. The exodus was observed in silence by Aldebaran. He stood motionless at the edge of his former dominion as the flags were lowered and his subordinates trudged away. It was a forlorn spectacle. The once-mighty citadel had been reduced to an area of flattened grass in the corner of the field, and I wondered what could have brought about such a hurried withdrawal.

After a few minutes I was joined by Hen, and together we watched the last stages being enacted. By this time only a dozen or so stragglers remained in the south-east; these included Aldebaran’s personal attendants, a few of the handmaidens, and Eamont. Also present were Yadegarian and the other cooks. Their belongings were stacked close by, but they appeared to be in no rush to leave. Instead, they waited until Aldebaran had ended his lonely vigil; then Yadegarian approached him cautiously. There followed a prolonged conversation, after which heads were nodded and handshakes exchanged. Finally, Aldebaran peered westward and spotted me and Hen. He spoke briefly to Eamont, then came strolling in our direction.

‘Morning,’ he said, when he drew near. ‘You’ll have gathered by now that we’re clearing out.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Several actually,’ said Aldebaran in a weary tone, ‘but the upshot is we need to return to headquarters fairly soon.’

‘Oh,’ I said, with surprise, ‘I always assumed this was your headquarters.’

‘No, no,’ came the reply, ‘this is little more than a mere outpost in a far-flung province.’

He went on to explain that running the camp had generated untold costs and expenses. It had been a burden on their resources which they could really do without under the current circumstances. Therefore, they’d decided simply to cut their losses and leave.

‘I’m afraid we’ve rather overreached ourselves,’ he concluded.

While Aldebaran was talking I gazed across at the embankment so recently completed by me, Yadegarian and the rest of the cooks. Casually I pondered whether this counted as a ‘cost’ or an ‘expense’. I didn’t say anything though: Aldebaran seemed to be in a melancholy mood and I had no wish to make it worse.

Over in the south-east, the cooks and the attendants were busily reorganizing some of the baggage. When Aldebaran noticed the flurry of activity it must have triggered a secondary line of thought. Next moment he turned and addressed Hen, who’d been standing quietly nearby.

‘I understand you were here before anyone else,’ said Aldebaran. ‘In the west, I mean.’

‘Oh . . . er . . . yes,’ replied Hen. ‘Yes, I was.’

He appeared thoroughly taken aback by the remark, as if he’d forgotten his long-standing claim.

‘The reason I mention it,’ continued Aldebaran, ‘is because we’re leaving a small detachment behind. Some of the cooks and handmaidens have requested release from service, and this has been granted. It leaves us with fewer mouths to feed. We’ve also allowed them two or three tents which were surplus to requirements; and a small proportion of the remaining provisions.’