“We’d fixed it up like this,” Simon said. “I met her here. We’d plenty of time.”
“Why on earth didn’t you tell us the whole of this ridiculous story at once?” Alleyn asked.
Simon mumbled, “I don’t expect you to credit it, but I was cobs with the boys. They’re a good shower of bods. I knew how they’d feel if it ever got out. And, anyway, it doesn’t look so hot, does it? For all I knew you might get thinking things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Well, you know. With murder about.”
“You have been an ass,” Alleyn said.
“I wouldn’t have done it, only I wanted the scratch like hell.” He added impertinently, “Come to that, why didn’t you tell us you were going to rig up an understudy? Nasty jolt he gave us, didn’t he, Mrs. B.? Come on, there’s a big girl. Gently does it.”
Mrs. Bünz, who seemed to be shattered into acquiescence, sat on the ground. He tipped up the great cylinder of “Crack’s” body, exposing the heavy shoulder straps under the canvas top and the buckled harness. He lowered it gently over Mrs. Bünz. “Arms through the leathers,” he said.
The ringed canvas neck, which lay concertinaed on the top of the cylinder, now swelled at the base. Simon leant over and adjusted it and Mrs. Bünz’s pixie cap appeared through the top. He lifted the head on its flexible rod and then introduced the rod into the neck. “Here it comes,” he said. Mrs. Bünz’s hands could be seen grasping the end of the rod.
“It fits into a socket in the harness,” Simon explained. The head now stood like some monstrous blossom on a thin stalk above the body. Simon drew up the canvas neck. The pixie cap disappeared. The top of the neck was made fast to the head and Mrs. Bünz contemplated the world through a sort of window in the canvas.
“The hands are free underneath,” Simon said, “to work the tail string.” He grinned. “And to have a bit of the old woo if you catch your girlie. I didn’t, worse luck. There you are. The Doc’s just coming up with the tune for the first sword-dance. On you go, Mrs. B. Not to worry. We don’t believe in spooks, do we?”
And Mrs. Bünz, subdued to the semblance of a prehistoric bad dream, went through the archway to take part in the Mardian Sword Dance.
Simon squatted down by the bonfire and reached for a burning twig to light his cigarette.
“Poor old B.,” he said, looking after Mrs. Bünz. “But, still.”
Camilla had once again run away from the Hobby into Ralph Stayne’s arms and once again he stayed beside her.
She had scarcely recovered from the shock of the Fool’s entrance and kept looking into Ralph’s face to reassure herself. She found his great extinguisher of a skirt and his queer bi-sexual hat rather off-putting. She kept remembering stories Trixie had told her of how in earlier times the Betties had used the skirt. They had popped it over village girls, Trixie said, and had grabbed hold of them through the slits in the sides and carried them away. Camilla would have jeered at herself heartily if she had realized that, even though Ralph had only indulged in a modified form of this piece of horseplay, she intensely disliked the anecdote. Perhaps it was because Trixie had related it.
She looked at Ralph now and, after the habit of lovers, made much of the qualities she thought she saw in him. His mouth was set and his eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl. “He’s terribly sensitive, really,” Camilla told herself. “He’s hating this business as much in his way as I am in mine. And,” she thought, “I daresay he’s angryish because I got such an awful shock when whoever it is came in like the Guiser, and I daresay he’s even angrier because Simon Begg chased me again.” This thought cheered her immensely.
They watched young Bill doing his version of his grandfather’s first entry and the ceremonial trot round the courtyard. He repeated everything quite correctly and didn’t forget to slap the dolmen with his clown’s bauble.
“And that’s what Mrs. Bünz didn’t know about,” Ralph muttered.
“Who is it?” Camilla wondered. “He knows it all, doesn’t he? It’s horrible.”
“It’s that damned young Bill,” Ralph muttered. “There’s nobody else who does know. By Heaven, when I get hold of him —”
Camilla said, “Darling, you don’t think —?”
He turned his head and looked steadily at Camilla for a moment before answering her.
“I don’t know what to think,” he said at last. “But I know damn’ well that if the Guiser had spotted Mrs. Bünz dressed up as ‘Crack’ he’d have gone for her like a fury.”
“But nothing happened,” Camilla said. “I stood here and I looked and nothing happened.”
“I know,” he said.
“Well, then — how? Was he carried off? Or something?” Ralph shook his head.
Dr. Otterly had struck up a bouncing introduction. The Five Sons, who had removed their bells, took up their swords and came forward into position. And through the central archway jogged the Hobby-Horse, moving slowly.
“Here she comes,” Camilla said. “You’d never guess, would you?”
Alleyn and Fox reappeared and stood inside the archway. Beyond them, lit by the bonfire, was Simon.
The Sons began the first part of the triple sword-dance.
They had approached their task with a lowering and reluctant air. Alleyn wondered if there was going to be a joint protest about the re-enactment of the Fool. Ernie hadn’t removed his gaze from the dolorous mask. His eyes were unpleasantly brilliant and his face glistened with sweat. He came forward with his brothers and had an air of scarcely knowing what he was about. But there was some compulsion in the music. They had been so drilled by their father and so used to executing their steps with a leap and a flourish that they were unable to dance with less than the traditional panache. They were soon hard at it, neat and vigorous, rising lightly and coming down hard. The ring of steel was made. Each man grasped his successor’s sword by its red ribbon. The lock, or knot, was formed. Dan raised it aloft to exhibit it and it glittered in the torchlight. Young Bill approached and looked at the knot as if at his reflection in a glass.
A metallic rumpus broke out on the steps. It was Dame Alice indulging in a wild cachinnation on her hunting horn.
Dr. Otterly lowered his bow. The dancers, the Betty and the Hobby-Horse were motionless.
“Yes, Dame Alice?” Alleyn asked.
“The Hobby ain’t close enough,” she said. “Nothin’ like. It kept sidlin’ up to Will’m. D’you ’gree?” she barked at the Rector.
“I rather think it did.”
“What does everybody else say to this?” Alleyn asked.
Dr. Otterly said he remembered noticing that “Crack” kept much closer than usual to the Fool.
“So do I,” Ralph said. “Undoubtedly it did. Isn’t that right?” he added, turning to the Andersens.
“So ’tis, then, Mr. Ralph,” Dan said. “I kind of seed it was there when we was hard at it dancing. And afterwards, in all the muck-up, I reckon I forgot. Right?” He appealed to his brothers.
“Reckon so,” they said, glowering at the Hobby, and Chris added angrily, “Prying and sneaking and none of us with the sense to know. What she done it for?”
“In order to hear what the Fool said when he looked in the ‘glass’?” Alleyn suggested. “Was it, Mrs. Bünz?” he shouted, standing over the Hobby-Horse and peering at its neck. “Did you go close because you wanted to hear?”
A muffled sound came through the neck. The great head swayed in a grotesque nod.
“ ‘Once for a looker,’ ” Alleyn quoted, “ ‘and all must agree /If I bashes the looking-glass so I’ll go free.’ Was that what he said?”
The head nodded again.
“Stand closer then, Mrs. Bünz. Stand as you did on Wednesday.”
The Hobby-Horse stood closer.
“Go on,” Alleyn said. “Go on, Fool.”
Young Bill, using both hands, took the knot of swords by the hilts and dashed it to the ground. Dr. Otterly struck up again, the Sons retrieved their swords and began the second part of the dance, which was an exact repetition of the first. They now had the air of being fiercely dedicated. Even Ernie danced with concentration, though he continually threw glances of positive hatred at the Fool.