Never Had it So Good Part 23 Sam walked down the busy fair thoroughfare beside Bailey, the crowds now thick and bustling once more. He had the strangest feeling that someone was watching him, but every time that he ventured what he considered to be a subtle look around him or a careful glance in any reflective surface, he could see nothing but the milling passersby and the various carnival folk entertaining them along their way, such as a bronzed strongman, an altogether unconvincing two-headed man in a ridiculous costume or a poorly made-up clown. It was really quite weird, but he put it down to something strange in the food; surely that was what had shook him up so.
"Do you know what is playing?"
"Well, it is not exactly a full length feature, but I heard talk that the main one is the latest Robin Hood serial, which always is a good bet for dragging them in. They have a range of shorter serials and the like for village fairs and so forth."
"Wow. Robin Hood. Super."
"Now then, Sam, curb your lack of enthusiasm. It is a timeless tale and there is certainly a lot of material there from the histories."
"A historical Robin Hood. Takes a bit of getting used to."
"Whilst he isn't England's greatest hero, he'd certainly be in the top four or five, and across Christendom too to boot. Fighting on Crusade with the Lionheart, battling wrongs with his Merry Men, defeating giants and dragons, finding the Round Table and fetching Excalibur for the war against Genghis Khan's hordes - all deeds for the ages."
"I'm afraid that the prospect of looking up to a fellow in tights or revering the Crusades as your lot seem to do doesn't really cut it for me. For one, real heroes are those that actually do something tangible to help people, not just split arrows in two - they've proved that isn't even possible by the way."
"Dear me. I wager I'll have to go and get my eyes and my mind tested by the quack in that case - I've seen both elves and men do it before and that isn't even the strangest use of a longbow on the modern battlefield I've come across; that would be Mad Jack back in Normandy with an explosive arrow going up against a Tiger. And tights can well be the mark of a real hero - I can think of a few absolutely super chaps from America, right off the bat."
Sam paused taking in the image of what had just been described. "Oh. Well, the rest still stands, though. The Crusades were simply bloodsoaked aggression against the Muslim world and one of the root causes of so much...trouble...later on."
"The Middle Ages were a very nasty time, you'll get no argument from me. But there wasn't a side or nation of men with a monopoly on wickedness or virtue, even maybe the Mongols. There was great butchery done on all sides, but in the end, King Richard did free Jerusalem and save Christendom, which counts for something in my eyes, my dear boy. I remember how it was described in a book I read back as a boy. Saladin had thought that the Christian army would never stay together, that their quarrels would tear them apart. But still closer they came, the armies of Richard the Lionheart, marching by day and night, with soldiers from every part. When the Crusaders came over the mountains and they saw Jerusalem, they fell to their knees and prayed for her release. And they won. The Mohammedans took the Holy City back later, though; so much war in a land of peace."
"It still is in my place."
Bailey's mouth turned down and his eyes closed momentarily. "That is a shame, by the Lion's mane! It has been peaceful here in the Holy Land since the Great War when Allenby took Jerusalem from the Turks. At that moment, it seemed as if Cecil Rhodes' dream was going to come true in full, but he had to settle for less. Now, there was a
man."
"Rhodes?! He was the worst kind of racist imperialist! He's a hero to you?"
"Steady on, Sam. I can't say I have many heroes. Rhodes was a great man though, and I was privileged to know him for a few years. You seem to be confusing great and good, but then again, so did I at your age. At least until Belsen. Anyway, he claimed a large part of Africa for the crown, funded our expansion on Venus, built the Cape to Cairo and founded the British Martian Company. Richest man in the world and likely the most powerful as well for quite a few decades. He used to say if he could reach the stars, he'd claim them too for the Empire. Not a good dream, but a great one."
“Greatness at what cost and more importantly, whose cost?”
“Anyone who got in the way of it. It is how things were done at the time. Empires are not built with tea and cake, sadly.”
"On this matter, I think we will have to agree to disagree, Simon. I'm not an Empire man in any way, shape or form."
"I think you've mentioned it once or twice. This is the world we live in, though, for however long it may be, and it is something that we are proud of, rather than the NHS or whatever you mentioned the other day. We’ve bought plenty of good to the world and knocked plenty of bad from it; plenty of it at the point of a gun in days gone by. Times have changed, but you can get farther with a Webley and a kind word than with a kind word alone, figuratively speaking.”
“Thankfully things seem to be a bit harder for that type of thinking than back in the day when it was Maxim Guns against natives with sliced fruit.” Sam threw in the Blackadder line intentionally to try and get a rise out of Bailey.
“Sliced fruit? Try an assegai, or, more likely rifles. And if you think things weren’t hard or dangerous, ask the men of the Shangani Patrol. A few Maxims wouldn't have gone astray there, but a last stand is a last stand. That was one of the reasons that Webley brought out the .577 revolver, just in time for the next round of business in Africa and the War of the Worlds. Longer range and heavy enough to blast a bull elephant. My father always said that the good old .455 was good enough to drop a German or a Frenchman, but for a Martian, Boxer or fuzzy-wuzzy, it was better to go large. Ah, the cinema tent!" Bailey threw out his arm as if to profer the scarlet silken tent before them to Sam, indicating that he should enter the silvered entrance first. He steeled himself for whatever weirdness would lie beyond them and stepped inside.
To a small tinge of disappointment, rather than the reality-defying nature of the luncheon tent, the interior consisted merely of an array of chairs set up in rows before a cinema screen. The lamps hanging on the walls were already beginning to dim and Sam and Simon pushed through the milling crowd after giving their sixpence to the elderly attendant, finally finding a pair of seats up in the back corner. More and more people filed into the tent, which rapidly filled to capacity.
“Their busiest sessions always tend to be around midday and the evenings; post-prandial picture popularity, I’ve dubbed it.”
“Never mention that one to anyone else, please Simon. For the good of everyone.”
“You sure you’re not somehow related to my wife?”
Sam’s intended repost was lost as the tent quietened with the drawing back of curtains and the first strains of a jaunty tune. The bold Technicolor title and rather cocky cockerel declared that this was Pathe News. It was quite the experience to see it in actual celluloid after chasing snippets on YouTube for years. The opening scenes were of a long line of tanks, armoured vehicles and hundreds of lorries rolling through a quaint European village and across an old fashioned border post into the countryside beyond, watched on by stoic peasants in traditional Rhenish costume.
“British Army troops are on the move again into Germany, but all in the name of peace and collective security this time. The men of the returned British Army of the Rhine aren’t just coming for a picnic, even though the weather is lovely; this time, under the banner of the Supreme Allied Commander Europe, they have packed for a long stay. And don’t the local children love it!”
The border scene seamlessly transitioned into a shot of rosy cheeked German children laughing, waving and cheering at a passing troop train and then scrambling over each other to scrabble for sweets cast by bluff, good natured Tommies from the carriage windows in a most saccharine fashion, but this too gave way before Sam could be overwhelmed. The camera rose up and away, reaching a seemingly impossible height whilst still showing the train bustling along the railway and now showing dozens of others pouring across the borders into Germany, marked by Union Jacks, French tricolours, the Stars and Stripes and the Canadian Red Ensign. It had to be some sort of special effect or magic, but it was damned impressive whatever it was.
"There they are, all together now, standing as one, not as aggressors or invaders, but as friends. For together, the soldiers of these great nations are more than just the warriors of one flag or another, but a new frontier, a new shield of freedom. Together with the fighting men of Germany and Austria and under the command of the famed General Gavin, we see a new alliance for progress and freedom."
There was an abrupt transition to an aerial view of a mighty fleet steaming through calm waves under a bright sun and a brilliant sky. They were most certainly bigger than any ships Sam had seen, judging by the size of the aircraft on the carrier decks and the tiny profiles of the men scurrying around the battleships. The sheer size struck him as less than practical, but he could help but be impressed by the sheer number of guns carried on the battleships. In addition to secondary and tertiary turrets, there also seemed to be dozens of smaller mounts, all covered with spherical shields and bristling with eight guns and apparently capable of covering considerable arcs very quickly, and something that looked very much like a combined gun and missile close-in-weapons system.
"Off out in the Atlantic Ocean, we were treated to the rare sight of ships from eight navies coming together in honour of President Kennedy, who flew over them in Air Force One yesterday afternoon over the North Sea. The largest of them is of course the aircraft carrier
Enterprise of the United States Navy, right next to our own
Ark Royal, the German
Frederick the Great and the French
Joffre. Coming up behind them are the battlewagons -
Vanguard, New Hampshire, Jean Bart, Willem van Oranje, Canada, Newfoundland, Santissima Trinidad and
Deutschland - followed by the pocket battleships
Norge,
Svea and
Danmark and a great array of cruisers, destroyers and frigates. And what a marvellous sight they are, showing the determination of the free world to stand together, whatever the weather.”
The scene shifted for a third time to the interior of a large glass and steel hall packed with various stalls and exhibitions. "And now for something completely different, the highlights of the latest exhibition of marvellous gadgetry in Inventions of Tomorrow at the Crystal Palace. From over in the United States, we can see the Instaoven, which can cook a five course meal in under twenty minutes and boil water or toast bread to perfection in seconds; the Mediscan, which can identify injuries and illnesses at the click of a button; and the SuperWash, which can clean, dry and press your shirts and suits to pristine condition in the time it would take you to have a nice cup of tea, or coffee as it might be in America. They'll be quite happy with this new express coffee making machine from Italy, then. Not to be outdone, German scientists offered up a new full-service talking robotic Automat, out of Israel we saw remarkable new fertilisers and irrigation system suitable for making the desert bloom and from France we have this fascinating new hologramatic drawing machine creating
a five-dimensional model of the Eiffel Tower before our very eyes. The Russians displayed their uncannily intelligent apes and a new fireproofing compound which they claim will replace asbestos by 1970, whilst those remarkable orientals from Japan, we can see their magnificent super train and calculating machines and handheld televisions that can fit in a schoolboy's top pocket! Finally, what visit to the Crystal Palace would be complete without a look at the Dinosaur Gardens! That baby T-Rex may look playful, young Jimmy, but don't get too close!"
The sight of a hysterical boy narrowly avoiding falling into a carnivorous dinosaur petting zoo did seem rather dangerous to Sam, but a quiet nudge from Bailey pointed out the shimmering barrier that kept the overly friendly creature back from the fences and spectators. That was certainly one way to end a newsreel unlike any other he'd previously seen. Plenty of that military focus again, propaganda that wasn't even thinly veiled and a 'gee-whiz' attitude to technology coupled with an almost cheerful dislike of foreigners.
Yes, it ticked all the boxes.The short that followed,
Her Majesty's Lancers, was quite difficult to him to keep track of, but apparently seemed hilarious to the general audience. He gathered that it was set somewhere on a frontier in India before the Great War and about a cavalry troop getting up to all sorts of hijinks, but the in-jokes, mannerisms and references seemed to escape him and the slapstick seemed a bit old fashioned and forced; after a bit, Sam realised there might be a very good reason that it was old fashioned, considering when he was. Then it was time for the main event, Robin Hood and the Swords of Wayland. This came as something of a surprise to Sam, who was expecting a garish Errol Flynnesque swashbuckling extravaganza, but got something quite different. Oh, Hood and his Merry Men certainly buckled their swash alright, engaging in swinging from trees, feats of archery and extensive swordcraft, but it had a serious tone to it, despite its light and merry heart. There was a fair bit of reference to magic, the lost time of the elves and fairies and a hint of Celtic mysticism throughout, hanging back from the main action and it did not shy away from showing violence and grief. This jarred somewhat with the bright Technicolor and happy orchestral soundtrack, although it did end on a strange bit of instrumental music as the mists closed in and the serial ended on a mysterious cliff-hanger as Robin Hood was about to enter a dark castle; Sam felt that he had heard that particular falling motif somewhere else before, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.
He glanced at his watch on the way out. Just before two thirty. The whole process had taken much less time than what it had seemed, another strange little quirk of this village, this country, this
place. The sun didn't really seem to have shifted much past its noontide zenith, nor had the crowds thinned out in the numbers or enthusiasm. He could have sworn that he saw that old fellow in the brown robe off to one side, but when he blinked, he seemed to have vanished. It was something of an effort to keep up with Bailey in the crush, but finally they made it through to a clear seating area underneath some rainbow umbrellas fashioned out of a cunning combination of coloured straw and tropical feathers. Sam nodded in acceptance to Bailey's offer of a drink and settled back in his chair, enjoying the relative cool of their sheltered table, whilst the attendant went off to the bar to fetch them.
"Not quite what you expected, was it?"
"No. Still not my cup of tea, but no tights."
"Well, we're not Spanish, you know."
"More adult than I expected would be the best way of putting it."
"Well, quite. The little kid's versions are more at a level appropriate to their understanding, but for the most part, the historical pictures don't pull too many of their punches."
"What next?"
"Whatever you want, old boy, within reason. I've given the children until teatime before I have to start rounding them up and herding them back home."
"You make it sound like they're cattle."
"No, quite the contrary. Cattle would be more obedient; perhaps I should ask Victoria about getting one of those electric goads though..."
"Tsk." Sam politely tsked, as anything more such as a titter, eyeroll or even a pshaw would simply encourage his host. "I can see what you meant about things being busy. There must be hundreds of people here."
"Yes, the fairs and other events like them tend to shake a lot of the folk out of the trees and bring them in from the farms and hamlets around the area. Sometimes it gets lively, but this is certainly the busiest it has been in ten years or more, even taking everything into account." He raised his eyebrow meaningfully at Sam.
"Ever get any trouble? Apart from the typical stuff, like a few farm workers having one too many bitters or a dispute over cabbages."
"Hah! Not too much; anyway, you're more likely to see that type of thing happen over among the ladies of the WI. Some of those cake quarrels can get intense. All jokes aside, nothing to egregious, really. The local constabulary haven't had any major crimes to deal with in my time, not since the war at least. Hard times can bring out the worst in people as well as the best. There was some kerfuffle about a shifty gypsy type hanging around last Christmas, but nothing really came of that. No real hotbed of murder, secrets or intrigue. We're not Norfolk."
"It must be nice to raise a family in such a good place."
"Oh, most certainly; good might not be the most precise word though.
Safe. It is generally a safe place. As anywhere, if you stray from the path at night, the countryside can seem very different and you could do yourself a mischief. Take the wrong turn or twist and you could come across something that had been asleep for a long time for good reason. But that is part of what is England, really, some things being beyond. What do we know of England who only England know?"
"What do you mean about things being asleep for good reasons?"
"Well, this used to be a wilder land, many centuries ago, before reason and modernity beat back the borders of the night, of the unknown. There were once places, chinks and chasms to places beyond or rather nasty circumstances. A lot of it gets put down to myth, legend and folklore in this day and age, when we seek to understand everything through the prism of science, even the arcane. I should let you look at
The Book of Beasts when we get home - there's one example of trying to explain all manner of creatures in one way."
"I'm afraid you're losing me."
"I see. Let me put it this way. We have all manner of local tales of nasty beings and things of the night around here, but in many cases, they have been explained in rather prosaic ways over the last century or so. It is as if everything can be explained in cool, scientific terms, even the supernatural. At least, that is what they think in London. The past is another country there; here, it is right next to you."
"Any particular local ghosties or monsters I should be fearful of?"
"We've had a reasonable amount of luck in that department, what with the monastery up there. There was a story of a foreign traveler who was killed near here back in the time of Good King Henry, a dark and mysterious noble from beyond the woods, so they said. I personally think he was one of the first of the vampires from Eastern Europe to make it to our shores. It was said that he was killed and his body cast upon a pyre; the villagers and hunters all surrounded it beat back and killed all manner of small vermin and animals that tried to escape the flames, save for a black duck which escaped into the night. Since then, there have been whispers of rumours and half-remembered dreams of it. My belief is that the creature is still out there, somewhere, looking to take human form once again."
To Sam, sitting there in the broad daylight, the very suggestion seemed preposterous, as most things do in the mid-afternoon when the world of dreams is at its farthest away. Vicious vampire ducks, indeed.
"Simon Bailey, you certainly have an interesting home here and a very interesting imagination."
At that moment, a shadow loomed across the table. Sam looked up to see a tall, tanned and eminently suave man in a black suit, bearing two drinks on a platter. His black hair was stylishly swept back and he seemed extremely familiar.
"Your drinks, gentlemen." The Scottish burr was unmistakeable. ""Two medium dry vodka martinis mixed like you said, sir. Shaken, not stirred."
"Wonderful, James, thank you. Have a seat?"
"Thank you Bailey. I think I shall."
It couldn't be. 
