Paul McCartney's Coat Page 12

  Suddenly he stopped. He held his hand up. No wind. It was quite a calm morning. Somewhere far off in the distance a cock could be heard crowing. He looked at the branches of the oak once more. Scowling to himself he stared once more at the upper limbs of the tree, the base of which was concealed behind the hill. With alarm he began to wonder that if it was such a calm morning, why were the branches of the oak tree that he was about to cut down shaking slowly from side to side? With a startled cry he broke in to a run.

  Over the hill. Down in to the church yard. Registering the small cart now unloaded beneath the base of the massive Oak. About which Abraham Sprottle and Oliver Sulyard were chopping at the tree with their axes. Judging by the size of the cut in the base of the oak they had been at it all night, and had by now probably cut a good third of the way through the trunk. As Henry raced between the grave stones the tree suddenly lurched a little to the left.

  Directly towards the small church itself.

  Gathering speed now Henry flew towards the now slightly frightened men who were looking up to the top of the tree in confusion and indecision.

  “What are you doing?” screamed Henry as he raced across the graveyard. Then, at the top of his voice, “Stop! For God’s sake you fools, stop! The tree is going to fall on the church! Stop!”

  II

  ~ In which Henry reveals he is not a spirit, Erasmus Fynche goes climbing and John Drawater embarks on a search for a horse or two ~

  The two men stopped what they were doing instantly and dropped their axes to the floor, making ready to flee. “Flibbertigibbet!” screamed Abraham and began to cross himself.

  “Protect us!” wailed Oliver and began to back his way to the road. Both men stood staring at Henry who was now almost upon them. Overhead the oak tree groaned ominously. By now day had dawned and the morning light began to take hold of their surroundings.

  “Hold on” Henry heard Oliver say. “It is only Master Bracebridge, Abraham.” The two men visibly relaxed as Henry was now nearly upon them. “Good morning, Henry” called Abraham, almost amicably. Then they noticed the look on Henry’s face. It seemed to Henry that at that point, as he drew level with them that they were suddenly about to flee once more now that they could see the look on his face was not entirely friendly.

  Stopping in front of them Henry grabbed Abraham by his smock and threw him to the floor. He knew that Oliver was the brighter of the two and therefore probably the instigator of whatever they thought they were doing. Henry rounded on him.

  “In the name of all of creation what are you doing?” gasped Henry.

  “We just thought we would make a start, Henry” smiled Oliver who seemed completely oblivious to the swaying branches of the enormous oak tree hanging high above his head. “No harm done now and it would be a good thing for two good and true men such as Abraham and I to be in favour with the squire, I dare say. “ To Henry’s irritation he smiled. Behind him Abraham made his way to his feet, brushing down his clothes as he stood. “Aye” he said, now standing alongside Oliver. “That be the way of it. Most of the night we have laboured. A good way in to it we have made for sure.”

  Henry almost screamed at them in irritation. He pushed past them to examine their handiwork, and shuddered when he saw just how much progress they had made. He turned back to the two men who by now were standing side by side, their arms smugly across their not inconsiderable chests. Abraham nodded as Oliver said, “Seems to us two that you may not be wanting us to be taking the credit for this one coming down so quick,” he smiled and Henry put his head in to his hands, sinking to his knees as he did so. He stayed there for a moment at best, and then almost as if coming to a decision he rose back to his feet once more.

  The two men smiled as Henry turned them to face the tree. “I feel that you have nothing to fear on making such good progress, my two stout woodsmen” he smiled, and to Henry it seemed as if Oliver and Abraham suddenly both grew an inch or two taller. “Your progress in to the tree is impressive and bold. I feel that I am not needed here at all. I think I shall retire home to my smith and breakfast there, such good works have you done.” he tapped them both on their shoulders and took a couple of steps back towards the churchyard in the direction he had just arrived from in such haste. Oliver and Abraham smiled to each other, seemingly not confused at all by this sudden turnaround in Henry’s behaviour. “If you would be as good as to return my tools and cart to me when you are done I would be in your debt” he smiled, and turned to go. Abraham slapped Oliver on the back. “That we will do” said Oliver. “We are sorry if we stole your chore Henry, but Abraham and I feel it is time that strong and true men such of our stature are brought in to the bosom of the squire’s recognition.”

  Henry nodded slowly to the two men and began to make his way back home. “You will certainly do that” he said, and Abraham and Oliver grinned widely. They watched Henry move away slowly, and as reached the first of the acorn strewn graves he called over his shoulder, “Though I can think of better ways of getting the squires attention than crushing his church with an oak tree” he said, and continued walking. Behind him the two men had gone very quiet.

  “What do you mean, Henry?” Came Oliver’s voice from behind him, and Henry noticed that there was a slight edge of fear in his voice now. He turned back to face their now whitening faces. “I mean the tree. The way you have started to cut it there is only one way that it is going to fall now.” He walked behind them and took a small twig up from the floor. He drew a long line on the ground. “It is plain to see really. The tree here” he began scratching a small square alongside the tree. “Is so tall that if it were to fall this way” he drew another line on the ground. “Then the tree would fall straight on to the church.”

  The two men stood looking on at the drawing, fear slowly forming on their faces. “Of course” said Henry, “It is no problem at all if you cut the tree on the other side then the tree will fall the other way. “Oliver and Abraham almost visibly brightened. “The only way to do this is to make sure that the cut is on the right side of the tree. Put simply the side the tree is not cut into is the direction that the tree will fall in.” Henry scattered the drawing with the twig and stood up. A sudden silence fell amongst the church yard. Oliver and Abraham stared at the tree. Then Henry. Then the tree again. Then the side they had made such a cut into. Then Henry again.

  Abraham pointed at the church. “That way.” he said, and it was almost a question. Henry nodded at the church. “That is right” he smiled. “That way. Right on to the church.” Oliver threw himself at Henry’s feet. “We did not know, Henry” he sobbed. Behind him Abraham was staring sickly at the small church that was basking in the bright autumn sunshine. “We thought we were acting for the best. We swear we did not know!”

  Henry threw Oliver away from him. Abraham continued to look as if he was paralysed by fear. Henry threw the twig down on to the ground in anger. “Of course you did not know” he roared at them. “So why did you make a start without me?” The two men struggled for an answer. Abraham began to sob. “What are we going to do?” he squeaked, and Henry stood staring at the tree as if trying to formulate a plan. Above them the sunlight caught the branches, the air still and yet the oak managed to look precarious at one moment, and invincible in the next.

  Henry reached a decision.

  “Abraham - I need you to return to my smithy for more ropes.” Abraham nodded and set off running at once, almost seeming to be glad to be free of the church yard and the tree. Henry turned to Oliver. “Who is the smallest man in the village? Not child, now - it must be a man and a good climber too.” Oliver thought for a second. “That will be Erasmus Fynche.” he announced. “Fetch him.” scowled Henry, and as Oliver stood hopping from foot to foot, shouted, “Now!” Oliver tore away as fast he could, and Henry was alone once more in the church yard. Just him and the oak.

  It was not that way for long of course, as the rest of the men he had enlisted began to arrive in ones and twos. Henry fou
nd himself explaining more than once exactly what had happened and the general opinion seemed to be that the squire was going to be sure to assize the two men when he found out that they were responsible for demolishing his church. Henry however, attempted to instil a feeling of confidence in the villagers. “I think we may be able to get it down without it coming to that.” he said. Picking up the twig once more Henry drew them in close. “I have a plan.” he said, and began to sketch it out in the dirt.

  As he worked at the ground with the stick more of the villagers began to gather around him to get a glimpse and listen to the plan. “What we need to do is have two plans.” He stood up from his efforts and caught a few of them nodding. Good. He had them with him. So far. “One of two things is definitely going to happen. Either the tree is going to fall in that direction,” he pointed to the small church, “Or it will fall in this direction” and he indicated a general area away from the church.” He checked a few villagers’ eyes. Good. Still with him. “What we need to do is try to lop as many branches from the top of the tree so that if it does fall towards the church then it will cause less damage.” Henry noticed Barnaby Gerville nodding at this, as was Tobias Quintin. Henry continued. “In order to do that we need to secure the tree with rope so that the cutting does not shake it enough to endanger it. I have already dispatched Oliver to fetch Erasmus Fynche for the climbing, and Abraham is away for more ropes from my smithy.” Cuthbert Pursglove nodded at this. “Good climber is Erasmus.” he stated flatly and Solomon Ruggenall nodded too. “Aye, that he is.” he said, smiling, “Has no trouble at all with a fine old sackful of apples in my orchard, for sure.” and there was a ripple of laughter about the gathered men.

  Henry took up his stick once more. “The second plan is to give our best attention to ensuring the tree falls in any direction other than the church. For that, once we have a goodly section cur from the top of the tree then we can use the ropes attached to pull the tree this way, away from the church.” he finally stood up from his drawing on the floor and put down the twig. Cuthbert, looking at the tree announced that it would take a lot more men to pull down the tree than they had there at the moment. A good few more, in fact. Henry thought on this as he had considered this and had not reached a satisfactory end to accomplish it. Solomon moved forward in the circle and said, “We could always use a pair of horses.” Henry brightened. Of course! But from where? He knew the village had a fair number of horses but at this time of the year they would already be in the fields, their heavy day’s toil already begun. “That is most certainly an idea of note, Solomon” smiled Henry. “But from where would we get one not already being used? I fear most folk would not be feeling obliged to forsake a day’s work for the cutting down of a tree.”

  John Drawater held his chin in his hands and nodded to himself. “Isaac Dynham has a few old nags best suited to the pulling of carts than hard toil I think. Fool that he is he keeps them none the less. Perhaps I could make my way and have a word with him to see if we could procure two of his horses?”

  Henry clapped him on the back. “Well thought on, John” he said. “Take Solomon here with you and speak with Isaac. Two horses we need and we are none too concerned of their increrptitude as long as they can walk and pull a rope then we will be best satisfied. Inform him that his squire requests his help, and not I.” The two men nodded and made their way in the direction of Isaac’s farm without a backward glance.

  Henry rubbed his hands together. Good. Now they seemed to be getting somewhere. The remaining villagers gathered about the tree awaiting the next step, and Henry noticed that although many of them were taking a very good look indeed at the cutting the two fools had already done, none too many of them seemed to want to get particularly close to the tree at all.

  Presently Oliver returned with Erasmus Fynch. When Oliver had suggested him Henry had instantly recognised that the young man was definitely built for climbing. Short, with gangly arms and as thin as a winter’s twig he stood before them shivering in the morning air, nervously hopping from foot to foot. He risked a glance at Solomon who returned it with a weary frown, and Erasmus’s glance quickly moved on.

  “Morning to you, Erasmus”, said Henry and took him to the base of the tree with his arm about his back. Erasmus was having a good look at the chopping at the tree base, he noticed, as if determining whether the tree was safe to climb at all. “That is a right old mess, see, Henry?” he laughed. “Going to squash the squire’s place of worship is that.” and he frowned.

  “Not if we can help it.” smiled Henry. ”What we need you to do is climb the tree with a saw strapped to your back for the lopping of the taller branches. Before that though we need you to attach ropes to the tree to secure it. We shall do the rest.”

  Erasmus seemed happy with the plan, and quite possibly his raising to prominence in the task. He was looking forward to the climb too for it was a bright and sunny autumn morning. Not too much wind either, which boded well for the climb.

  The next hour was taken with discussions regarding where to attach the ropes, where they would stow the cut branches and so forth. Eventually Abraham returned carrying several long coils of rope which were then laid out on the grass. A little time after that Erasmus loaded himself up with as much rope as he could carry. Henry surmised that it would need about three trips up and down the trunk to get all of the ropes in place, and after that the cutting of the top branches could commence. Slowly but surely Erasmus began to climb the tree.

  III

  ~ In which John Drawater reflects upon the odd and curious naming of horses, Solomon praises the Lord for creating carrots, Mother Alice puts on her coat and Jerome Pennebrygg insists upon taking his toll ~

  “I cannot believe that Isaac named a horse, “Lucifer’s Arse” John Drawater snorted as he and Solomon led the two old cart horses down the lane away from Isaac’s farm. Isaac had been quite receptive to loaning the pair of horses to them once he had heard that it was a favour for the squire, and as he had said it was not as if they were needed by him in any way. At best he had reflected that it would save him having to exercise the two beasts. Solomon looked up at the evil looking horse and thought to himself that Lucifer’s Arse seemed a pretty good description of the beast all around. John was following behind him, leading the other horse that seemed slightly smaller in stature, if not in attitude. This other horse went by the name of, “Nob”.

  “Nor I” said Solomon, and they both looked at Nob. Neither of them said a word.

  John reflected on the advice that Isaac had given them on the handling of the horses, which as all men knew was never going to be the same from beast to beast. John was not a great handler of horses, and was considering his rashness upon volunteering for the task, but Solomon seemed to know what he was doing. Slowly but surely they led the horses back towards the village and therein the church yard.

  “Here is a bag of carrots for them” Isaac had said, handing a small sack over to John. “You may need them to erm...” Isaac had looked unsure of his next words. “Lead them.” he finished, hesitantly. “Just one thing.” he said, and looked as if he were about to impart sacred knowledge itself to the pair of men who stood there looking up at the enormous horses and the small piece of rope attached to each of them nervously. Lucifer’s Arse snorted quietly and flicked its tail as if in irritation. Nob just stood staring straight ahead. John thought - just for a second - that it almost leered. “Yes?” had enquired John with a slight tremor in his voice, keeping a very close eye on the largest horse. Isaac looked deathly serious. “Never ever ride them.” he said. “They be pulling horses, them. Whatever you do, do not allow anyone to try to mount ‘em. I will not be responsible for any injuries that result if you do.”

  Having assured Isaac that they were required purely for their ability to pull a rope they were on their way. They almost got to the first bend in the lane before the bags of carrots were required. Slowly but surely they led the two horses onwards, the carrot dangling before them. John
sighed to himself as they continued down the lane.

  ***

  Mother Alice took up her stick and put down the small jar of oil she was holding. Changing her mind she picked the jar up again and sniffed it once more. “Pah!” she muttered. “Too much flax.” putting it down again she stood and made her way across the small room that served as her home. Several cobwebbed sprigs of dried herbs hung about the windows, various small pots and mixes of fresh flowers were strewn about a long wooden bench that ran the length of the back wall. “Dare say they will be here soon” she sighed wearily. Crossing to the door she took her cloak off a peg and put it on, securing it about her neck with a small clasp. Then she put on her hat and returned once more to the chair where she sat, stick in hand, waiting silently. “Best be ready” she thought to herself. “Best ready than not at all.” and she sat in the room silently but patiently waiting.

  ***

  John stood before the small bridge leading Satan’s Arse. Behind him Solomon followed up with Nob. Before them lay the small bridge that led in to the village. Beside it there was a small hut, and standing in the road before them was the compact form of Jerome Pennebrygg blocking the road. “I don’t care what you are abouts with ‘orses” master Drawater”, he stated slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “An ‘orse is a ‘orse and that’s for sure. Price of crossing is a mite, and so is a farthing for you and them.” He pointed at Satan’s Arse nervously who returned the stare malevolently.