‘As soon as possible.’
‘She would! Well, it’s all straightforward except for the quick-release clamp. I’ll have to look around for that.’
‘And you must let me make a subscription to your old-age pensioners.’
‘It won’t be expensive. But this one would be grateful, wouldn’t you?’ He slapped the glossy flank of the landaulette. I wonder he didn’t blow up its nose.
When we were home again (what enchantment to be able to write ‘home’ instead of ‘my flat’!) Elsa’s curiosity was of course unbounded, but I refused to tell her what I was planning.
‘Because I need your inspiration when you see it for the first time. That’s decisive – far more important than anything else. Is it a miracle or is it not? If there’s any doubt, we’ve had it and you might be in trouble.’
She accepted this nobly and I was allowed to spend a few evenings in the home for senile motors, making a light raft with a float attached to each side to keep it level. When the ten-foot rod was ready, with its plate at one end and its clamp at the other, I tied the lot on top of my car, recovered the cauldron from the bank and told Elsa it was time to go down to Gloucester.
‘Oh, not Gloucester again!’ she exclaimed.
‘Well, the Thames is too crowded. But up the Severn somewhere we ought to find a bit of peace in the dusk.’
‘Thank God it’s not that horrible tideway!’
‘Not yet. And if all goes well and you approve, we’ll stay the night and have a conference with the major next day.’
The map suggested that the Haw Bridge, some six miles above Gloucester, might do for the rehearsal of my experiment. When we got there, the evening river was not so peaceful as I expected, so we walked along the bank carrying with us the raft, the rod, the hat box and all my equipment for diving until we found a spot a little upstream from the bridge where no pleasure cruisers were moored and there was a good screen of bushes between the tow path and the fields. I asked Elsa to cross the bridge, follow the far bank until she was opposite to me and then to watch the gently flowing current and report what she saw.
Meanwhile I changed and assembled the miracle – a mere matter of screwing to the centre of my raft the plate at the bottom of the rod and clamping the cauldron to the top. Then I pushed the raft out to deep water and reduced the pressure in the floats until the rim of the cauldron was just awash.
It was now dusk, permitting no clear view at a distance but quite enough light to see any floating object. Keeping on the same level as the raft I pushed it in front of me underwater until it grounded. That did not matter. It would never ground at all off the Box Rock.
I stood up and removed the mask, waiting for the vital comment. Elsa was clapping.
‘I could swear it floated across the river on its own. I could just see the rod once or twice but I’m sure I wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t known it was there. And on the tideway, ripples and a bit of spray will hide the bottom. It left a little wash behind even on the calm river. Denzil will believe it’s a real miracle. Dare we let him?’
I said I’d love to – his reactions would be so fascinating. But he had to be in the secret in order to organise the reception party.
We returned to our hotel, where Elsa called up the major to make an appointment for next day. He said that he would meet us in the afternoon at the sapling stump – which indicated that by now the druidicals had returned to the routine of the commune instead of wandering disconsolately through the woods.
In the morning I visited the port offices to find out when it would be high water at Box Rock – a question apparently that only the river could answer. I was told that at Sharpness and Lydney there could be no doubt, but within the horseshoe bend it might depend on the wind. Since the tides were now neap there would be little or no bore. At the Box Rock and Bullo the top of the tide – give or take ten minutes – should be about 8.50 p.m. the day after tomorrow and the slack water wouldn’t last long. It would not yet be high tide at Gloucester, but the ebb would certainly have started below the Noose.
We found the major at the sapling stump, looking military but not to the extent of visionary stirrups. I explained to him how the cauldron would cross the river and asked if he could guarantee that his six pagans would be on the bank just upstream from the Box Rock on Thursday at half-past eight; they might have to chant or meditate for half an hour or more until the dusk was of the right texture.
I could see that his conscience bothered him. A miracle he had asked for, but not such a bare-faced miracle. He sighed but, yes, he was sure the party could be arranged at the right time provided Elsa returned with him now to Broom Lodge and mixed normally with the colonists.
‘Carry on as if no inner circle existed, just like your uncle.’
‘Are they likely to bow to me as they pass?’ Elsa asked.
‘I’ll settle that with Raeburn.’
‘Good God!’ I exclaimed. ‘Is he installed already?’
‘He is high priest. The rest will follow.’
‘Has Elsa got to preach to them?’
‘Not her job, old boy! That’s where I come in. All Elsa has to do is to visit the blacksmith’s shop and tell them they must learn to work in gold, that gold came before tin and is far more sacred. She will show them a sign.’
‘What about the training?’
‘Club porter. Nothing he doesn’t know. I’ll ask him to find me a young goldsmith who’d like the job. And must be an earnest Christian.’
‘We have to find a way of delivering the raw material.’
‘Darling, the priestess looks after that. I think the cauldron should not be empty. We’ll put a few ingots in it and I shall scatter them in the meadow like Flora with a cornu-what’s-it.’
‘But we haven’t any ingots with us.’
‘Yes we have. I always carry three in my bag for luck.’
I told the major to see that their torches were alight, and flaming red. As the marvel approached, Elsa would walk into the water, being very careful not to step over the edge into the Box Hole, undo the clamp – she had already practised that – and display the cauldron.
‘Do I beckon to it, or what?’
‘Just hold out your hands as if you knew it was coming. Do whatever you feel like. You were so magnificent at Wigpool. Nothing that I suggest could be as good.’
‘Never did like night operations,’ the major grumbled. ‘Always go wrong.’ But it was not really the operation which was disturbing him. ‘Tell me, Piers! In your heart do you believe I am justified in this grave step?’
‘I do. The end justifies the means. What would Arthur have been without Merlin? And how would the Household Cavalry impress the public if they rode in battledress instead of the masquerade of plumes and breastplate?’
That cheered him up a bit, and so we parted. The next I should see of Elsa – well, I should never see her at all until it was safe to show my head above water. I comforted myself with the thought that if the miracle misfired we could always swim to whatever safety the Severn offered.
On Thursday evening I drove to Arlington and down the lane to the river. When the few tourists had gone and my car was the only one left, I walked along the embankment till I was above the tail of the sands and nearly opposite the Box Rock. The tide was rising fast over a good stretch of muddy beach and, as usual, I was quite alone. Two journeys brought out from the car my underwater gear, the cauldron and its raft.
After sunset I had a lot of work to do on the floats. On the upper river I had taken the cauldron across empty, not remembering that in the tideway it would soon fill with water. Since I could not tell how much would splash into it, I filled it full before the start and added Elsa’s ingots.