William the Good (8 page)

‘Y-yes,’ admitted William reluctantly. Then he brightened. ‘But we could
train
some more. We could start trainin’ ’em now so as to be ready.’

It was not in William’s nature, however, to spend much time preparing for remote contingencies. He added hastily, ‘’S not as if we’d have to wait till we were grown up. I
think that we ought to have a bow an’ arrer army all ready an’ it doesn’t matter not bein’ grown up for bows an’ arrers. You can shoot ’em jus’ as hard not
grown up. Look at me,’ he swaggered, ‘two bulls’ eyes straight after each other. Well, wot I think is this, that we oughter start right away makin’ a bow an’ arrer
army. Wot I think is’ – William was unconsciously lapsing into his platform manner– ‘that people aren’t as careful as what they ought to be about foreign armies
landin’. There’s nothin’ to stop ’em. They can jus’ get into a ship an’ sail over to England an’ land same as anyone else an’ here’ll they be
right in the middle of us before we know anythin’ about it. Wot I say is that we oughter
do
somethin’ now ’stead of waitin’ an’ waitin’ an’
waitin
’ till it’s too late. Wot I say is that we might wake up tomorrow an’ find the fields here full of foreign enemies what have sailed over in the night an’ think
what a long time it’d take to get our soldiers together an’ to get gunpowder for their guns. Before they’d have time to do that the foreign enemy’d have conquered ’em.
Well, wot I say is that if
we’re
here with an army of bow and arrer shooters it’ll be all right. Bows an’ arrers don’t need a lot of gettin’ ready like guns
– If they break you can easy make another, an’ we can go on usin’ ’em long after they’ve used up all their gunpowder an’ got nothin’ left to shoot with.
Well, wot I say is’ – William, worked up for an oratorial climax, sought about in his mind for some striking and original remark and finding none repeated – ‘Wot I say is
we’ve gotta get a bow an’ arrer army.’

Ginger and Douglas, carried away by this flow of eloquence, cheered loudly.

William collected his ‘bow an’ arrer army’ with surprising speed. The holidays were drawing to a close and most of his school friends and acquaintances were growing tired of
their own resources and were willing to follow William wherever he led them. Some of them already possessed bows and arrows. Others bought them. Others made them. William assembled them on the
first day on which they were fully equipped and harangued them.

‘Soldiers,’ he said, ‘we’ve all gotter learn bow and arrer shootin’ so as to be ready for when all the gunpowder in the world gets finished up which, of course, it
must do sometime, same as coal, we’ve gotter be ready for when a foreign enemy comes suddenly over in ships by night an’ is here right in the middle of England before anyone finds out.
They’d be disguised, of course, till they started fightin’. Well, we’ve gotter be ready with our bows and arrers to fight ’em an’ hold ’em at bay till the real
army’s got together an’ got its guns an’ gunpowder an’ things, an’ then we’ve gotter be ready to fight ’em again when all the gunpowder’s used up.
That’s what we’ve gotter do, we’ve gotter be
ready
,’ William as ever was at this point fired by his own eloquence, ‘we’ve gotter be ready to save our
country from the enemy, same as people like Moses an’ Napoleon did. . . .’

‘Napoleon din’t,’ said a small child in the rear.

‘Moses din’t either,’ said another.

‘Oh, they din’t, din’t they?’ said William threateningly, annoyed at the interruption.

They looked at William. William after all was more real than Moses and Napoleon. It didn’t matter what Moses and Napoleon had done. It did matter what William might do.

‘All right then,’ they agreed pacifically, ‘they did then.’

‘Course they did,’ said William, ‘an’ that’s what we’ve gotter do. Save the country from the foreign enemies.’

His faithful band waved their bows and arrows and cheered enthusiastically.

At first all went well. The Bow and Arrow Army practised diligently under William’s leadership. They set up a target on a tree, stood in a long line one behind another, and as each came to
the front on the word of command from William shot at the target, while the result was noted on a slate by Ginger. So far so good. But the archers with the perversity of human nature soon began to
grow tired of it. They weren’t content to stand in a row, step forward at William’s word of command, shoot, and have the result noted on a slate by Ginger. It was all right just at
first, but after an hour or so it became boring. True, the small boy who had challenged the historical truth of William’s reference to Napoleon introduced a diversion by shooting William
calmly and deliberately by a well-aimed arrow in the middle of his stomach and running off, leaving William writhing in agony on the ground. William, however, quickly recovered and was on the point
of furiously pursuing his assailant when he was held back by Ginger who pointed out, truly enough, that if William were to leave them the bored archers would probably straggle off to other
diversions. So William, ever an opportunist, turned the incident to account. He made another speech.

‘Soldiers,’ he said. ‘You can jus’ see from me being nearly killed then, what a deadly weapon a bow’n arrer is. That’s what you’ve gotter do to the
foreign enemies of the country, hit them in the stomach nearly killin’ ’em like what John Francis did me. And,’ he ended simply, ‘when I catch John Francis I’ll jolly
well
show
him.’

The archers, because cheering is a change from shooting at a target, cheered.

But the fact remained that the archers were growing bored. They preferred William as leader of lawless expeditions to William as Commander-in-Chief of a disciplined band of archers. Shooting at
a target is thrilling enough for the first day, becomes less thrilling on the second and is boring in the extreme on the third. None of them dared to vary the monotony as had John Francis by
shooting William. John Francis, it transpired, had acted thus quite safely in the knowledge that he was going away the next day on a fortnight’s visit to an aunt, and it was a known fact that
no insult ever lived in William’s memory for longer than a week. William’s life was too full to admit of his cherishing vengeance against anyone for longer than a week.

The scarecrows were William’s idea. It was indeed such an idea as could have been no one’s but William’s. William realised that his band of warriors was
growing daily more listless and discontented, that it was held together solely by the hope – daily diminishing – that something exciting really was going to happen soon, and they only
did not desert in a body because they were afraid of finding afterward that they had missed an adventure.

So William thought of the scarecrows.

He realised that a target lacked human interest and he realised that in almost every neighbouring field stood a fairly lifelike scarecrow which might well serve to represent the foreign enemy to
whose destruction he had so often urged his gallant band. Moreover all the fields were ‘trespass fields’, and between William and the neighbouring farmers there waged a deadly feud
which would lend to the expedition that element of lawlessness and adventure without which William as well as the archer band was feeling the whole thing to be rather flat.

Upon hearing this the archer band brightened perceptibly and set off behind their leader lovingly fingering their bows and chanting joyous songs of battle. The adventure did not disappoint them.
They had a glorious day, a day that glowed brightly in their memories for many months. They surrounded every scarecrow in every field and shot at it with bow and arrow till it collapsed
realistically and blood-curdingly into a heap on the ground. When the result did not take place quickly enough, they hastened it by a few discreetly placed stones. A scarecrow, as an enemy,
possesses the supreme advantage (to its assailant) of not being able to do anything back. From two or three of the fields they were chased by irate farmers which gave the game the piquant edge of
excitement they had all hoped for.

William would have liked his men to shoot at the farmer enemy as they retreated but even he had to admit that this was more difficult than it sounds. He tried it, hit Ginger by mistake and fell
over a ploughed furrow at the same time. William had never heard of the Parthians but if he had, would have had a deep, deep respect for them. They retired, however, fleetly and in good order,
leaving none of their number in the hands of the enemy who finally gave up the chase, and purple-faced with breathlessness and fury, contented themselves with standing and shaking their fists at
them till they were out of sight. It was altogether a glorious and thrilling day. But William realised with something of apprehension that it could not be repeated indefinitely. It was doubtful
even whether it could be repeated once. The scarecrows were completely demolished and if new ones were set up it was pretty certain that they would be closely guarded. No, the band must not expect
a day like this every day. They must be content with routine work for some time after this – with drilling and shooting at targets. Before they disbanded William delivered one of his stirring
speeches.

‘Now we’ve seen today,’ he said, ‘what we can do to a foreign enemy if one lands an’ comes right into the middle of England. We can knock ’em to pieces same
as we did the scarecrows,’ he ignored the convenient passivity of the scarecrow enemy which had assured the victory, and continued, ‘an’ then if they start runnin’ after us
we can get out of their way same as we did out of Farmer Jenks’ an’ Farmer Hodges’, and then when they’re too tired to run any more, we can shoot at ’em again same as
we could have done at Farmer Jenks an’ Farmer Hodges if it hadn’t been teatime. An’ – an’ now we’ve gotter go on practising quietly for a bit so’s to be
ready, ’cause – ’cause we never know when we’ll wake up one mornin’ an’ find all the fields full of foreign enemies what have come over in the night.’

The band of archers, inspirited by the events of the day, cheered enthusiastically.

The next morning William woke early and looked out of the window. His eyes opened wider and wider and wider. He rubbed them and looked again. It was true. The fields near the
house were full of soldiers and tents. He dressed himself in a state of stupefied amazement. It had really happened. A foreign enemy had really crossed over in the night and had entrenched itself
in the fields about his home. William descended to breakfast still feeling dazed.

‘I say,’ he said, ‘there’s soldiers. All over the field.’

‘It’ll be the manoeuvres,’ said his sister Ethel casually.

‘How do you
know
it’s the mou – what you said?’ said William sternly. Ethel looked at him.

‘There’d be a fortune,’ she said, ‘for anyone who would invent a hairbrush that would make a boy’s hair look tidy.’

‘But they’d never use it even if anyone did,’ said William’s mother gloomy.

William snorted and sat down before his porridge plate. That was just like his family. A foreign enemy only a few yards away and all they could talk about was his hair. Probably when the foreign
enemy started shooting at them and killing them they’d still be going on at him about his hair or his face or something. Nothing – nothing – could ever stop them. Bitterly William
wondered whether such people were worth saving.

After a hasty breakfast he hurried out to his archer band. He found them mildly excited.

‘But they’re English soldiers,’ said one with a certain disappointment in his voice. ‘I’ve heard ’em talkin’ English.’

‘
Course
they talk English, silly,’ said William crushingly, ‘but that doesn’t
prove
they’re English.
Course
they taught ’em English
before they brought ’em over. Do you think they’d bring ’em over talking foreign langwidges an’ arousin’ everyone’s suspicions.
Course not. Course
they
c’n talk English. I bet they saw you listening an’ started talkin’ English jus’ so’s not to arouse your suspicions.’ William had come across this phrase in a
Secret Service story the night before and was proud of having an opportunity of using it, ‘but you go’n listen to them when they don’t think anyone’s listenin’
an’ I
bet
you’ll find ’em talkin’ foreign langwidges.’

Obviously the majority of the Archer band was impressed by this. But one small doubting warrior piped up:

‘Well, when I told my father this mornin’ that I’d seen ’em, he said, “Oh, yes. It’ll be the manooverers” – or something like that –
“an’ I don’t suppose they’ll be here more than a day or two.”’

‘Yes,’ said William excitedly, ‘that’s
jus’
it. That’s jus’ what they
knew
people’d say. They come here dressed like English
soldiers an’ talkin’ English so as not to arouse suspicion and they know that the English people’ll jus’ take for granted that they’re English till they start
fightin’ ’em and then it’ll be too late. English people are like that. They look out of their windows an’ see a lot of soldiers in English clothes talkin’ the English
langwidge an’ they say, “Oh, yes, it’ll be the – the – mooverers” – same as what George’s father said, an’ Ethel said, and they start
talkin’ about my hair jus’ as if they weren’t goin’ to be killed the next minute.’

‘What does it mean?’ piped up a small archer in the background.

‘What does what mean?’ said William to gain time.

‘That word you said – Mooverers.’

William cleared his throat.

‘It’s – it’s a French word meanin’ English Soldier,’ he said. His stern eye wandered among his Archers daring any of them to deny it. No one did deny it
because everyone believed it implicitly.

‘Well, that’s wot I say,’ went on William relieved, ‘they knew that when English people saw they were dressed like English soldiers an’ talkin’ the English
langwidge they’d say, “Oh, they’re jus’ mooverers,” an’ not to do anythin’ to stop ’em. They’ll stay here till they’ve learnt all about
the country, then they’ll conquer the village an’ then they’ll go on an’ conquer all the rest of England. But – we’ve – gotter
stop
’em.’