The Field of the Cloth of Gold Read Online Free PDF

side, then back to where she started, then back over again. She repeated this exercise a few times before pausing in the shallows. The river rolled quietly on. Isabella lay motionless as the soft morning sunlight dappled the surface; then gradually the current took hold and she was borne downstream. She spread her arms languidly and offered no resistance. There was a bed of reeds at the water’s edge, and when she drifted past she must have brushed their stems with her fingertips; all their heads bowed and swayed in a series of gentle ripples. For a brief period she was lost from view behind these reeds, but eventually she reappeared and continued to glide slowly along. She was now approaching the south-east curve of the river and had almost drawn level with the shimmering white tent; at which moment its doorway parted and Thomas stepped out.
    He glanced all around, and immediately his eyes alighted on Isabella’s recumbent figure. Naturally, under the circumstances, I expected him to show some discretion and pretend not to notice. Instead, I watched astounded as he strode casually to the river bank and engaged her in direct conversation. Obviously I was unable to hear what was being said, but seemingly Isabella was a willing participant in the exchange. She floated idly towards him as they passed the time of day together; then she gave a little laugh and began swimming upstream once more. Thomas strolled in parallel along the grassy bank, his white robes in full flow. When he spotted her discarded towel he picked it up and folded it carefully over his arm; then he stood at the water’s edge and waited. In due course Isabella rose from the shallows and he tossed the towel to her. The discussion resumed as she dried herself down. What exactly they found to talk about so soon in their acquaintanceship I didn’t know, but he detained her much longer than I would have thought necessary. For her part, Isabella made no attempt to get dressed. Instead she just stayed where she was with the towel wrapped tightly around her. Occasionally she placed her hands on her hips, rocked her head, and swished her hair from side to side, presumably hoping to dry it in the sun’s warm rays. Thomas was standing so close to her that the drops of water must have fallen on his bare feet, yet he showed no sign of having felt them. I carried on observing the pair’s behaviour for several minutes: it was a fascinating display from both parties, but their performance was about to be interrupted.

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    Suddenly a sail appeared coming downriver. Isabella took one look at it and vanished inside her tent. Meanwhile, Thomas stared at the approaching boat. A moment later it ran against the bank and a man jumped ashore with a painter in his hand. He held it secure as the boat swung round with the current. Then two other men dropped the sail. They had landed in the extreme north-east corner of the field, and they paused briefly to take stock of their surroundings. I was quite some way away, but even at this distance I could tell they were only making a tentative appraisal. They were gazing over the field and speaking quietly among themselves. All three of them seemed most unassuming. Whether they were planning to stay or merely breaking their journey was unclear, yet a swish of white robes told me that someone had decided to intervene. Thomas went striding along the bank just as the other two men gained dry land; there then followed a rather one-sided exchange during which he addressed them loudly and pointed in various directions, including back up the river to where they’d come from.
    The three men stood in a group, facing him but apparently saying little. They had a certain stillness about them which I found admirable, and I was pleased to see that they were standing firm. When Thomas had finished berating them they simply shrugged and remained where they were; then he turned and marched away towards the south-east. When he passed the