Free The Field of the Cloth of Gold by Magnus Mills

deeply.
    ‘We were wondering,’ I said, ‘if the trumpet could be somehow muted.’
    He considered the request for several moments.
    ‘That would appease her, would it?’ he said at last.
    ‘It might help,’ I replied.
    There was another pause, and I could tell that Aldebaran had something further to ask me.
    The question, when it came, was direct. ‘I presume she intends to continue swimming in the river?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘What she does is her affair.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ said Aldebaran. ‘All the same, it would help if we knew for certain.’
    ‘Would it?’
    ‘From our point of view it’s fairly important.’
    ‘Well, she’s swum every day since she’s been here,’ I said, ‘so I can’t imagine her changing her ways now.’
    ‘I see.’
    We sat in silence for some minutes while Aldebaran pondered whatever was on his mind, then, all of a sudden, his mood brightened.
    ‘Do you think she’d care to come and inspect the camp?’ he enquired.
    ‘Again, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I really can’t answer for Isabella.’
    ‘It’s all very spick-and-span at present.’
    ‘I don’t doubt it, but I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her yourself.’
    ‘Very well,’ said Aldebaran, evidently resigned to the fact. ‘In the meantime, how about you?’
    ‘Inspect the camp?’
    ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You’re an honoured guest: you’ve partaken of our milk pudding.’
    ‘Alright,’ I replied. ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Come on then. We can start now.’
    As we rose from our seats, another thought occurred to him.
    ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘it’s not a trumpet: it’s a bugle.’
    ‘Oh, sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realize.’
    ‘No need to apologize,’ he remarked. ‘Just setting you straight, that’s all. We’re very particular about these details.’
    ‘Right.’
    The two of us went outside and the guided tour began. Aldebaran strode briskly around the camp, explaining its various features as I tagged along behind. Obviously I’d seen many of the tents on previous occasions when I passed by, but now I was obliged to examine their every aspect. Their main characteristics were sturdiness and general utility, and they obviously served an important purpose. In appearance, however, they lacked any grace and charm: consequently, I was soon struggling to pay attention. We walked up and down the perfectly straight rows of tents, and it struck me that Hartopp would have found the tour much more interesting than I did. I was certain he’d have been intrigued by the strict geometric forms on display, not to mention the stout fabric employed. Unfortunately, Hartopp persisted in his refusal to enter the sprawling cantonment, despite my reassurances that the newcomers weren’t as bad as they’d first seemed. On several occasions I’d urged him to come and try the milk pudding, which I strongly recommended, but it was all in vain. Hartopp simply didn’t want to know. During the past few days Brigant and the others had shown similar intransigence, the result being that I was the only person on Aldebaran’s conducted tour.
    Finally we emerged into the thoroughfare which separated the command tents from their smaller companions, and I remembered the nickname we’d coined on the day the camp was built.
    ‘We call this the “high street”,’ I said.
    ‘Yes,’ replied Aldebaran, ‘so do we.’
    The inspection ended where it had begun, outside the field kitchen. We halted by the entrance: I’d left my spoon and dish on the table, planning to collect them before I departed. It was now approaching mid-afternoon. All along the ‘high street’ the pennants were fluttering in the breeze, and for a few moments I paused to admire the spectacle.
    ‘I see you’ve altered the design,’ I said at length.
    Aldebaran followed my gaze, but offered no reply.
    ‘When Julian was here they were emblazoned with the letter J,’ I added. ‘Now they’re plain white.’
    Still