William The Conqueror (4 page)

And the Outlaws marched up on the platform.

A gasp of mingled horror and surprise and excitement went up from the audience.

The Outlaws were wearing the clothes they would need for the waxwork show. William wore his top hat and Scout’s costume. Douglas was dressed in readiness for his policeman scene in a
dressing-gown and a bread basket. Ginger, in readiness for Charles I, wore a tinsel crown and a shirt of his father’s, and Henry, as the highwayman, wore a home-made mask and a paint-smeared
overall several sizes too large for him – the property of his father, who fondly imagined it to be still hanging in his studio.

William looked around his paralysed audience. ‘Ladies an’ gen’l’men,’ he began, ‘this is a waxwork show, ’cause of her birthday, an’ I’m
doin’ the talkin’. The first waxwork is me. I’m not dressed for it, but you can imagine me in a long coat an’ I’ve got these things on for Columbus an’
I’ve not got time to go changin’ every time. Ladies an’ gen’l’men, this is the
only
waxwork show of its kind in the world. We’re just goin’ to begin
an’ if you’ll kin’ly watch careful this is General Moult walkin’ along the road – lifelike
an
’ nat’ral. This is waxwork number one, ladies an’
gen’l’men. This is General Moult walkin’. Kin’ly all watch General Moult walkin’.’

‘LADIES AN’ GEN’L’MEN,’ SAID WILLIAM, ‘THIS IS THE
ONLY
WAXWORK SHOW OF ITS KIND IN THE WORLD.’

The spell was broken. The hall was full of murmurs of mixed consternation and delight, the delight predominating. In the second row sat Mrs Brown, her eyes full of helpless horror, fixed upon
her son. In the third row sat General Moult, his face purple with fury, his eyes bulging. A group of village youths at the back of the hall, reluctantly dragged in to listen to the lecture on
Egyptology, began to cheer. William bowed, gratified.

IN THE SECOND ROW SAT MRS BROWN HER EYES, FULL OF HELPLESS HORROR, WERE FIXED UPON HER SON.

‘Crumbs!’ whispered Ginger, looking at the open door behind the stage. ‘The Vicar’s coming with a man . . . he’s goin’ to come right up on to the stage.
He’s goin’ to spoil it all.’

‘No, he’s not,’ said William firmly. ‘It’s our show an’—’

Certainly the Vicar and the other man were coming up on to the stage. William, with admirable presence of mind, threw himself into the breach.

‘Ladies an’ gen’l’men, our nex’ waxwork is Mr Monks comin’ up on to the stage. Kin’ly notice Mr Monks walking up on to the stage.’

The hall was full of excited murmurs. The figure of the Vicar was seen to appear on the stage, as though in obedience to William’s stage directions, and speak to William.

The murmurs in the hall were too loud to admit of anyone’s hearing what the Vicar was saying to William. Everyone was talking excitedly. General Moult had found his voice, and was
shouting: ‘Impudence! Damned impudence! I’ll tell his father. Confound his impudence! I say, confound—’

Mrs Brown was past all power of interference. She merely watched William with a helpless, fascinated look. Above the babel rose William’s strident voice.

‘Waxwork number
three
, ladies an’ gen’l’men. Mr Monks talkin’. Mr Monks talkin’ to me. Kin’ly notice Mr Monks talkin’ to me,
ladies
an’ gen’l’men – nat’ral
an
’ lifelike.’

The youths at the back of the stage applauded frenziedly. William bowed. The Vicar began to lose his self-control. He hit the palm of his left hand with his right clenched fist as he
expostulated. William imitated the gesture.

‘Waxwork number four, ladies
an
’ gen’l’men,’ he shouted. ‘Mr Monks doin’ this. Kin’ly notice Mr Monks doin’ this – lifelike
an
’ nat’ral.’

Mr Monks caught hold of William’s collar.

‘Waxwork number
five
,’ shouted William hoarsely. ‘Mr Monks an’ me goin’ to have a fight.’

The audience had decided how to take the situation. It rocked with laughter. The youths at the back clapped and stamped. The Vicar, who was deeply attached to his sense of dignity, retired
hastily.

‘Now,’ said William, who was slightly put out by the contretemps, ‘we have King Charles discoverin’ America. I mean the other way round. Ladies an’
gen’l’men, if you’ll kin’ly notice—’

The Vicar and Professor Smith were interrupting him again. William turned upon them sternly, no longer trying to save the situation.

‘We’d all be glad,’ he said indignantly, ‘’f you’d kin’ly
stop
keep comin’ up here ’n int’ruptin’. This is a birthday
party an’ all these people’ve come special to see the waxworks an’ you keep comin’
spoilin
’ things. ’F you want to watch we’d be glad ’f
you’d go down to where the others is watchin’ ’stead of comin’ up here int’ruptin’—’

The Vicar was speechless with fury. Professor Smith was staring at William’s strange attire with bewildered horror.

‘But I’ve come here—’ he began.

‘You’ve come here to a birthday party,’ said William sternly, ‘if you’ve been invited, an’ if you’ve
not
been invited we’d be kin’ly
glad ’f you’d
kin’ly
go home ’stead of stayin’ here int’ruptin’. Ladies an’ gen’l’men, will you kin’ly
notice—’

Mrs Brown had decided to relieve the tension by having hysterics, and the spell that bound the members of the committee of the New Era Society was broken suddenly. They surged upon the platform
and surrounded William explaining, expostulating, scolding . . .

‘But she said to come here,’ protested William, ‘it’s her birthday party. All these is her fr’en’s. It’s a
party.
An’ you’ve all gone
’n
spoilt
it int’ruptin’.’

He was finally convinced of the absence of Miss Flowerdew and of the mistake. But he was still pained and aggrieved.

‘Ladies an’ gen’l’men,’ he said to his audience with great dignity. ‘This waxwork show what you’ve seen the beginnin’ of is goin’ on in the
ole barn across the field.’ He had a sudden inspiration. ‘The other part’s jolly good – better than the bit what you’ve seen, an’ is free an’ open to all
on payment of one halfpenny.’

Then with great dignity he led his troupe across the field to the barn where Miss Flowerdew sat in solitary patience.

The Parish Room settled down with an audible gasp and sigh. Mrs Brown, seeing that all was over, came out of her hysterics. General Moult ceased to shout and settled down to a fierce and
sustained muttering. The Committee of the New Era Society came down from the platform to their places. The Vicar, pale and tense, took the chair. Professor Smith smoothed back his hair, took a deep
draught of water, and began:

‘Ladies and gentlemen, the earliest mention of Egypt in the Bible is under the name of Mizraim, which word, probably, is a plural form, testifying to the fact that Lower and Upper Egypt
were regarded as distinct. The chief objects of cultivation in Egypt are millet, wheat, barley, dhurra, maize, peas, beans, lentils, clover, rice, sugar, etc. The philologist, D. I. Taylor, is of
the opinion that the Egyptian alphabet, although incomplete, is one of the oldest known. Even at the time of the Eleventh and Twelfth Dynasties the hieroglyphic writing was a venerable system of
vast antiquity—’

The hall was very dimly lighted, but Professor Smith began to have a vague suspicion that his audience was mysteriously thinning.

It was. Shadowy forms were creeping from the room and making their way in a furtive procession across the field to the old barn . . .

CHAPTER 3

M
R Falkner had been staying at the Browns’ house for a very long time.

He had written to Mr Brown to remind him of the fact that they had been at school together and to ask if he might pay him a short visit. Mr Falkner was like that. Also his idea of a short visit
was not Mr Brown’s.

Not that Mr Falkner needed much entertaining. He entertained himself. He talked. William had never met anyone who talked quite as much as his father’s guest. Mr Falkner talked perpetually,
and the subject of all his conversation was Mr Falkner. Mr Falkner was a never ending source of interest to Mr Falkner.

He talked about his exalted social position, his many and varied talents, his marvellous exploits, his ingenuity, his aristocratic friends.

‘Oh, yes, the Duke and I are the greatest of pals. Always have been. The way the man pesters me to go and stay with him! But all my friends are the same. There’s the Honourable Percy
Wakefield – you’ve heard of him, of course? – I ran into him again last week. He simply wouldn’t take “No”. I managed to put him off at last. Quite a nuisance,
these people. Simply won’t let one alone.’

Politeness prevented Mr Brown from remarking that he did not grudge Mr Falkner to the Duke or to the Honourable Percy. Instead, Mr Brown sat, silent and oppressed, trying to read the evening
paper which lay carelessly on the arm of his chair and to look as if he weren’t doing so.

And Mr Falkner talked on.

Mr Falkner was small and rather stout, with a round face, a small blighted moustache, a glassy stare and a very squeaky voice.

During term time Mr Falkner did not trouble William much. William merely watched him curiously in his brief respites from school.

William practised diligently and acquired a very good imitation of Mr Falkner’s squeaky voice and glassy stare. He practised them alone every evening in his bedroom.

At meals he rather welcomed the presence of Mr Falkner than otherwise. Mr Falkner’s accounts of his varied exploits of dauntless bravery and dazzling cleverness seemed to induce in
William’s family a certain apathy of hopelessness which William thought a very proper attitude on the part of a family.

No one told him to go and wash his hands and brush his hair again. No one made sarcastic remarks about his table manners. They simply had not the spirit. In fact, such is the humanising effect
of a common misfortune, they almost felt drawn to him. They had thought that no family could be afflicted with an affliction worse than William. They had discovered their mistake. They had
discovered Mr Falkner . . .

Then came the end of the term. The end of the term was a time of mixed feelings for William. On the one hand, there was the glorious prospect of the holidays. On the other hand, there was his
report.

William’s best friends could not assert that he was intellectual or industrious. He was a daring and capable leader. He was, at different times and in different moods, robber chief,
pirate, Red Indian, explorer, castaway, desperado – but he was not at any time, or in any mood, a student. William’s attitude towards the question was one of humility and
self-effacement. He’d do without them. There were enough swots in the world without him.

So there was a certain monotony about William’s reports. Masters who had a delicate shrinking from the crude and brutal truth wrote, ‘Fair’. Those who had the courage of their
convictions wrote, ‘Poor’. The mathematical master, who was very literal, wrote, ‘Uniformly bad’.

The horror and disgust of William’s father at these statements was generally as simulated as William’s penitence. They knew their respective roles and played them, but they had gone
through the scene too many times to be able to put much spirit into the parts.

But this time Mr Falkner was there. Before Mr Brown could begin his set speech expressive of horror and disgust, he took the paper from him and began to comment on it squeakily.

‘By jove, very different from the things I used to get. “Excellent” and all that sort of thing all over them. Some of them simply couldn’t say enough. “Remarkable
talent” and “Very industrious” and “Splendid work”, and all that sort of thing. I remember the headmaster saying to my father one speech day, “Brilliant boy of
yours, that!” Very keen-sighted man he was, too. Never made a mistake. I believe I was a great favourite at school. I’ve no doubt I’m still remembered there.’

‘No, neither have I,’ said Mr Brown.