Rule Britannia Read Online Free PDF Page A

lived on a chair in the corner of the library and seldom stirred, except to crouch, twice a day, on a plot of grass that had become dried and barren from her attention.
    Emma flung one last look over her shoulder, and stopped in astonishment. Her grandmother was right. There
were
men, soldiers, wearing that idiotic camouflage they all wore no matter what army they represented, coming up across the field, spread fan-wise, rifles at the ready, tin hats on their heads.
    “I know,” said Emma, and she laughed, because it suddenly seemed so obvious, “it’s a film, they’re making a film, they’re here on location. And those men at the top of the road mucking about with the telegraph wires weren’t soldiers at all but the camera crew. Oh no, they mustn’t frighten the dog…!”
    Spry, the farm collie, a wizard with his master’s sheep but terrified of all explosive sounds, from thunderstorms to aircraft flying low, must have escaped from his safe lair at the farmstead over the hill, and was now running as if for his life across the field in front of the advancing soldiers. One of the men paused and took aim, but did not shoot. Then, as another helicopter roared low over the roof, Spry, in panic, turned at bay towards the advancing soldier, barking fiercely as was his wont with strangers upon his territory, and this time the soldier fired.
    “God rot his guts!” cried Mad.
    Spry was no longer the guardian of his master’s flock but something bleeding and torn, not even a dog. Mad put down her field glasses, rose from her chair and walked across the room.
    “Did you say a film?” she flung at Emma, and preceded her downstairs.
    It isn’t true, thought Emma, bewildered. It can’t be true. Soldiers don’t shoot animals, they have them as mascots, they love them, and then before Mad had reached the bottom of the stairs Emma heard her call sharply, “Sam, come here!” There was the sound of the front door being thrown open, and from the top of the stairs Emma saw the small flying figure of Sam running across the lawn to the gate, out onto the driveway and the orchard and so to the field beyond. Sam had seen what had happened. Sam had gone to the rescue of his friend the collie-dog Spry. Hysteria, panic, qualities hitherto unknown, seized upon Emma. If the men shot animals, they would shoot children too.
    “Sam!” she screamed, tumbling down the stairs. “Sam…”
    Then she felt Mad’s hand in hers. Restraining, hard and cold. “Don’t worry,” she said, “they’ll turn him back. The man who shot Spry won’t repeat his mistake. He’ll be in trouble anyway from his platoon commander, or whoever is in charge of this fantastic outfit.”
    The tears were coursing down Emma’s cheeks. The sudden horror of seeing the dog destroyed, the dog they all knew, who came courting poor old Folly when she was on heat, and Sam running headlong into murderous fire, this did not belong to the world she knew, this was nightmare.
    “How can you be so calm?” she sobbed. “How can you?”
    She looked out across the orchard field. Sam had reached the gap in the hedge, and was about to climb through the gap when one of the men, approaching from the opposite side, came swiftly forward and spoke to him. He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam turned and pointed towards the house. The man appeared to hesitate a moment, then shouting some order to the soldiers behind he climbed through the gap in the hedge, with Sam beside him, and both of them walked slowly across the orchard towards the house. The rest continued to advance up the plowed field, some making for the woods, others for the paddock that led to the lane and the main road beyond. Raised voices, arguments, children’s high-pitched questions arose from the kitchen. An agitated Dottie appeared in the hall, closely followed by Terry.
    “What’s going on, Madam?” she flustered. “We heard a shot and Sam said something about a dog. It’s not Folly, is it? Sam went