William The Outlaw (28 page)

Someone seemed to murmur the two words ‘William Brown’ in the background and then they all changed the subject.

But the next day Mrs Bertram met Bertie and fell in love with him at once. She found him ‘adorable’ and at the next pageant committee meeting she announced her firm intention of
having him for her page.

‘I
must
,’ she said, ‘I
must
have a page and he’s a perfectly adorable boy. He’ll look sweet in white satin.’

‘Oh,
he’s
all right,’ said the Vicar’s wife with relief, ‘there couldn’t be any harm in having
him.
It’s—’ again she dropped
her voice and spoke darkly, mysteriously, ‘it’s some of the others.’

So it was decided that Bertie was to be Queen Elizabeth’s page.

Bertie received the honour complacently. He, like Mrs Bertram, thought that he was eminently suitable for a page. Moreover, his position as the only boy in the village admitted
to the pageant delighted him. While still retaining his charming manners towards the grown-ups he began to put on more and more side when with his contemporaries. He was enjoying his position of
supremacy over the Outlaws. He had a pretty well-founded idea that William, despite his professed scorn, would have loved to be in the pageant. He smiled sweetly and meaningly at William in public
and in private informed his uncle that it was William who had introduced the mouse into the drawing class and the handful of squibs into the anthracite stove. . . .

Bertie joined William in the playground where William and the Outlaws were playing leap-frog during ‘break’.

‘Hello, William,’ he said pleasantly.

He always affected great friendliness of manner towards William and the Outlaws.

William, gathering together all his forces, took a mighty leap over both Ginger’s and Douglas’s back, landed on his nose, picked himself up, said ‘Crumbs!’ in a tone that
expressed mingled pride in his exploit and concern for his nose and ignored equally Bertie’s presence and greeting.

‘You’ve heard about the pageant they’re going to have in the village, haven’t you?’ went on Bertie, still with his most engaging smile.

William addressed his Outlaws still as though not seeing Bertie. ‘Bet I can do three of you,’ he said vaingloriously. ‘Come on, Henry . . . you stand with Ginger and Douglas
and I bet I’ll do all three of you.’

‘They decided not to have any children in at first,’ went on Bertie suavely, ‘but in the end they’re to have just one for Queen’s Elizabeth’s page.
Me.’

Ginger, Douglas and Henry crouched down. William went back, took a mighty run, a mighty leap and – landed on the top of Douglas and Henry. The wriggling mass of Outlaws disentangled
themselves. William’s nose, brought a second time in violent contact with the asphalt playground, began to bleed copiously. William held to it a grimy handkerchief already saturated in ink
and mud and watched with interest the effect of the introduction of the fresh colour.

Douglas was persisting with great indignation that William had broken his neck and Henry was accusing Ginger of having completely altered the shape of his head by sitting on it violently on the
asphalt. They abused each other with gusto and great impartiality.

‘Sayin’ you could jump three an’ then bangin’ down upon us like that . . . I tell you my neck’s completely broke. I can feel it.’

‘You couldn’t go on livin’ if your neck was broke.’

‘Well, I prob’ly won’t go on livin’. I feel almost as if I was dyin’ now.’

‘Well, you must’ve stretched out after I started – all of you. You didn’t look as stretched out as all that before I started . . . and look at my nose . . . your neck
can’t be so bad ’cause it’s not even bleedin’.’

‘You don’t know what it
feels
like havin’ someone
sittin
’ on your head. It’s absolutely squashed up my ears somethin’ terrible.’

‘Jolly good thing. They stuck out enough before.’

Above the fracas came again Bertie’s sweet and patient and gentlemanly little voice.

‘I’m going to be Queen Elizabeth’s page. I’m going to be the only boy in the pageant.’

‘I’ll try again,’ said William, still holding his handkerchief to his bleeding nose. ‘I bet I do it this time. I din’ go back far enough that time before I started
an’ I bet if I go far enough back and you keep more squashed up together I can do all three of you.’

‘No, thanks,’ said Ginger holding his neck in both hands. ‘I’m not goin’ to be jumped on again with a broken neck.’

‘Nor me,’ said Henry tenderly caressing his ears, ‘with squashed ears.’

A crowd of boys had gathered round.

Bertie again upraised his clear young voice.

‘Don’t you wish it was you going to be in the pageant instead of me, William?’ he said.

William, his hair dishevelled, his collar burst open, his nose still bleeding, turned and surveyed him with slow scorn.

‘Huh!’ he said, ‘you think you’re goin’ to be in the pageant, do you? Huh? Well, let
me
tell
you
, you’re
not.
An’ you think
I’m not goin’ to be, do you? Well, let
me
tell
you
, I
am.
’

It was a momentous announcement. There was a dead silence. Everybody gazed at William with surprise. Then Bertie giggled.

‘You needn’t be so mad at me, William,’ he said. ‘
I
didn’t tell uncle that you put the mouse in the drawing class.’

At that moment the bell rang.

No one had been more surprised by William’s announcement than William himself. He had as a matter of fact felt a certain secret soreness at Bertie’s inclusion in
the pageant. Had William been asked to be a page in the pageant in the first instance his indignation and scorn would have known no bounds. But the fact that children were expressly excluded had
filled him with as great an indignation as the enforced inclusion of him in any capacity would have caused him. And the further news that the ban had been raised in favour of Bertie – and
Bertie alone – was regarded by William as an insult.

But until William saw the faces of his schoolmates, impressed despite themselves by his solemn prophecy, he had hardly realised what he had said. He had meant merely to reply crushingly to the
obnoxious Bertie. He found that he had issued a challenge which he must justify or lose his prestige for ever. He spent the next two lessons (Geography and History) biting his pencil frowningly and
wondering how on earth he could eject Bertie from the pageant and insert himself. He had a dark suspicion that even were he successful in ejecting Bertie he would be the last boy in the village to
be chosen as page in his stead. He was so quiet during those lessons that the Geography and History masters, comparing notes afterwards, thought (without any great regret) that perhaps he was
sickening for something.

On the way home with Ginger, Douglas and Henry he was still thoughtful. After a desultory conversation on the state of William’s nose and Ginger’s neck and Henry’s ears and the
question whether William could or could not have cleared them if he’d had a longer run and they’d been closer together, and a brief commentation on the dullness of the Geography and
History lessons (William’s failure to provide the usual diversions had been much resented by his class-mates), Henry suddenly said:

‘I say, William, what you said, ’bout him not bein’ in the pageant, you din’
mean
it, did you?’

Nothing on earth would ever induce William to retire from a position he had once taken up.

‘’Course I did!’ said William.

‘Well, how c’n you make him not be in it an’ you in it?’ challenged Douglas incredulously.

William took refuge in a ‘Huh!’ dark with meaning and hidden triumph, and added, yet more darkly and mysteriously, ‘Jus’ you wait an’ see.’

Rather to William’s consternation his prophecy spread round the school and opinion on the subject became sharply divided. William’s followers supported William and
Bertie’s followers supported Bertie. For Bertie had a following and quite a large one. Any boy who lived as Bertie lived in close proximity to the headmaster and suffered from such a
beautiful conscience as Bertie’s would have had a large following among a certain kind of boy. Though only, as I said, boys of a certain kind, they were very enthusiastic and admiring
followers. They delighted in jeering at William from behind hedges and from the safe protection of their garden walls.

‘Yah! Who thinks he’s goin’ to be in the pageant?
Yah!
Who thinks he’s goin’ to be a page? YAH!’

On these occasions William, passing below, assumed his famous expressionless expression and was apparently deaf, dumb and blind so that the pleasure of jeering at him was small indeed. William
possessed the art of retaining an utterly impassive, almost imbecile, cast of features in face of all provocation. It had always been one of his most potent weapons. Whenever the jeerers ventured
into open country it was quite different. William then allowed his natural expressions and actions free play. William’s followers supported him loyally. Their faith in him was unbounded.

‘’Course he’s goin’ to be in the pageant,’ they said. ‘Jus’ you wait an’ see.’

It was a common sight during that time to see a follower of William’s engaged in personal combat with a follower of Bertie as the only means in their power of deciding whether or no
William would be in the pageant in Bertie’s place.

William’s immediate circle – the Outlaws – though their official attitude was that there was no doubt at all that William would be in the pageant, and that Bertie would not,
were in private apprehensive.

‘I don’ see how you’re goin’ to get into the ole pageant,’ said Ginger despondently.

William, even before his Outlaws, preserved the attitude of the hero who trusts in his star.

‘’
Course
I am,’ he said with his inimitable swagger, ‘jus’ you wait an’ see.’

But in his heart William too felt apprehensive. The day of the pageant grew nearer. Bertie was attending rehearsals and behaving as beautifully as ever and there seemed no
likelihood at all of his being ejected. For a few days William made frenzied efforts to establish himself in general public opinion as the sort of boy who would make a suitable page, but he soon
gave them up. He himself found the process too wearing and no one else seemed to notice it. Wild plans of imprisoning Bertie and stealing his costume were dismissed as impossible. The day of the
pageant drew nearer and nearer. William looked forward to it now solely as a day of humiliation. He regretted bitterly his rash prophecy, though in public he continued doggedly to support it with
innumerable ‘Huhs’ and ‘’
Course
I ams’. The personal humiliation William minded less than the humiliation to his loyal followers who were fighting so many
battles on his behalf.

The day of the pageant had arrived. The pageant was to pass along the village street and the boys of William’s school, including William, were to be massed outside the
school to cheer it on its way. The only member of the school who would not be present was Bertie who would be in the pageant as Queen Elizabeth’s page. Bertie had gone home for the weekend to
visit his parents and to fetch the page’s suit which his mother had made for him. Bertie was enjoying his triumph over William. To make it yet more enjoyable he had told his uncle just before
he went away that it was William who had uprooted the daffodils in his garden bed by night and planted rows of brussels sprouts in their stead, and William had had a painful interview with the Head
on the subject that very morning. As it happened to be one of the few crimes committed in the neighbourhood for which in reality William was not responsible, he felt perhaps unduly bitter about it,
forgetting, as one is apt to do on such occasions, how many crimes he had perpetrated successfully and without retribution.

He walked slowly along the road with Ginger and Henry and Douglas.

‘
Well
,’ commented Ginger with a deep sigh. There was no need to ask what he meant. The day had come and William’s public downfall seemed imminent and inevitable.

‘Yes,’ said Douglas bitterly. ‘I dunno why you kept sayin’ all the time that you
was
goin’ to be in it.’

‘Yes,’ said Henry with spirit, ‘why ever did you go an’
say
a silly thing like that for?’

‘Oh, shut up!’ groaned William, relinquishing his heroic pose and abandoning himself to his depression.

And just then they saw the figure of Bertie coming jauntily down the road towards them with a suitcase in one hand. He approached them with his beautiful smile.

‘Hello!’ he said. ‘I’ve been home for the weekend. Got my page’s clothes with me in the case. I’ll have to be quick and change or I shan’t be ready in
time. You goin’ to watch, I suppose?’

His meaning smile flickered at William as he spoke. William had assumed again his expressionless expression.

‘S’pose we’ll have to,’ said Ginger with an air of boredom.

‘I’ve had a jolly good time at home for the weekend,’ went on Bertie who was evidently longing to confide in someone.

‘An uncle took me to a sort of show,’ he went on excitedly, ‘an’ I saw a hypnotiser – you know, a man what hypnotised people an’ they did whatever he told
them.’

‘How’d he do it?’ said William.

‘He jus’ looked at ’em an’ moved his hands about an’ then told them they were cats or dogs or rabbits till he told ’em to stop an’ when they came to
they didn’t remember anythin’ about it.’

William was silent for a minute then he said slowly: ‘Bet you couldn’t do it on me.’

‘I bet I could if I tried,’ said Bertie.

‘All right,’ said William. ‘Go on, try.’

Bertie, after a moment’s hesitation, put down his suitcase and made several passes with his hands before William’s face.

‘Now you’re a cat,’ he said without much conviction.

To the surprise of both Bertie and the watching Outlaws William promptly dropped on hands and knees and began to miaow loudly. Bertie’s face beamed with pleasure.

‘Now you’re a dog,’ he said.

William began to bark.