Three to See the King

it made an interesting change, but it was nothing more than that.
    I soon gathered from the conversations of those around me, however, that they regarded their stay here as a sort of duty, an unavoidable preface to the day when the city of tin would be rebuilt on this very spot.
    As a matter of fact, this was all they ever talked about. As I drifted off to sleep, the last thing I heard was my neighbours discussing their plans for tin walls, tin roofs and tin chimneys. Next morning, when I awoke to pale light filtering through canvas, the same voices were still deep in conversation. Oh, what hopes they had! It seemed they liked nothing more, after three or four days’ work, than to return to their homes and dream, safe in the knowledge that for the time being their service was done.
    This work, of course, was carried out at Michael Hawkins’s behest, and I had to admit that his accomplishments were astounding. Even when I joined one of the squads and took part in operations myself, I just couldn’t see how we managed to move so much earth. If one man filled a barrow, and led it off along the planks and footpaths, then by the time he returned his comrades would have filled ten more. These tens soon became hundreds, and so on, until the excavation was complete, and we could move on. Every now and then Michael would pay a visit to see that all was going well, and then they would bombard him with questions such as those I’d heard on the first evening. Quite often, though, he would be away surveying some other part of the canyon, and it was on these occasions that they turned to me instead. Apparently, word had got round about the incident involving the planks, and it was now generally assumed that I could speak for Michael. So it was that my opinion began to be sought on all kinds of matters, from the settlement of disputes over who should be working where, to the correct method for handling a shovel. The majority of enquiries, however, concerned the proposed city, and I soon discovered there was something Michael hadn’t told them.
    Thanks to him, they now knew how to dig a canyon, deep and wide enough to house as many people as wanted to live there. They had also learned the techniques of building from tin, the ideal lengths for chimneys, and the importance of shutters and doors. But what they still didn’t know was when they could move from the old site to the new. It seemed that whenever they asked Michael, he would evade the question, or answer it in a circuitous way that left them no wiser.
    Once I’d been among them for a few days I started to sense that they were becoming impatient over this. After all, they said, hadn’t they done as he’d instructed? Hadn’t they worked hard every day, only to sleep at night under tarpaulins? When, they wanted to know, could they build their promised city?
    These particular queries, I noticed, were never put directly to Michael himself. None of them wished to appear ungrateful for what he’d done for them, and not for one minute would they think of complaining. All the same, it was clear they’d like to know more.
    Even Alison Hopewell, who had always struck me as being the most level-headed of people, showed signs of restlessness. It was she who helped me find nightly accommodation under the tarpaulins, and after that we tended to spend a lot of time together. We even worked on the same excavation. Alison wasn’t quite as overawed by Michael as the rest of them, and one day, while we were walking back to the camp, she told me she’d been to see him.
    ‘What about?’ I enquired.
    ‘I asked him when we could start building the new city, and you know what he said?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘He said, “There’s a great step ahead of us”. What do you think he meant by that?’
    ‘Not sure, really.’
    ‘He talks in riddles sometimes.’
    ‘Yes.’
    Alison glanced at me. ‘You don’t think he’s just playing games with us?’
    ‘No,’ I replied. ‘Shouldn’t think so.’
    ‘Cos if he is I’ll…’ She trailed off. ‘What’s Simon up to?’
    We were now approaching the area where I’d noticed the eight wooden pegs in the ground. Just to one side of them was Simon Painter, busily engaged in measuring out a section of land. He walked about ten paces, stopped, and hammered in a new peg. Then he turned sharp right, marched another few steps, and paused again.
    ‘Come on,’ said Alison, veering off the footpath in Simon’s direction. I followed, and we