The Gateway - Chapter XI: New Model Army

‘Are you ready for what is to follow John?’ the soldier asked.
‘How would I know that, I don’t even know what is to follow, I don’t even know who you are?’ I answered, making no attempt to make the frustration in my voice covertly executed.
The soldier’s eyes smiled. They were blue eyes. They were cold. He took something out of his pocket.
‘Have you ever seen one of these before?’ he asked.
‘Well, yes I’ve seen a gun before, not a revolver, but still…’ I answered.
The soldier inspected the gun himself, as if it were new to him. I looked around; the gateway was always dark now. Ever since I had witnessed the murder of Geoffrey the gateway had been getting steadily darker, whereas in the world I live in when I am awake the night has been getting shorter and lighter.
‘John,’ he said sharply.
‘What’, I said turning to face him. A noise sounded and my chest felt like a sledgehammer had just hit it.
‘Bang!’ he laughed. I looked at my torso. Thick red liquid had soaked my shirt and it spread, like when you put tissue on some water you have spilled; the water travels along the tissue like it has a will of its own. I put my hands where I have taken the bullet to try to stop the bleeding with pressure. I fell to my knees. The air feels sinisterly cold.
‘That is what will happen to every English man in the country if we don’t put a stop to this; or worst - economic disaster. Don’t worry John you’ll be fine when you wake. Just remember it is our duty to serve our country; whether that means fighting Germans, Kier Hardie, Asquith and Lloyd George or those of the Christian faith, you must be ready and willing to give your life for this cause; to protect the green fields and fertile soils of England. To protect, John, everything that is right about our culture, to protect the capital amounted by the ruling class and to stop those who, due to idleness, have little wealth and thus seek to take from the hard working to fund their decadent lifestyle. It is a huge irony in my eyes, that those people in the village who swear so heartily to be faithful to God, are the ones who have children before marriage, drink intoxicating substances to mar their judgement, have affairs and injure their loved ones. It is the corruption of experience, its resent, its greed, its hypocrisy, revelling under the façade of holiness, wrapping itself in a cloak of fake virtue, to hide the darkness and flaws of human nature. Choose John, whether you fight the dangerous radicalism of socialism, the military might of the Germans and the oppression and lies of religion or simply do nothing to save this country.’ The soldier lifted his gun to my head.
‘The time where you will have to choose sides is nigh, don’t be a lefty, conchie or a Jesus-worshipper old bean.’ The bullet blasted through my head. It went dark.

I awoke in my bed and instinctively checked my torso and head for large bullet holes. It was a dream however and I was quite fine. My mother came into the room.
‘Get up John for goodness sake, you have school in three-quarters of a hour.’
I groaned and threw back the duvet to put some clothes on.

When I arrived at Blackberry Primary School I was a little more awake and enthusiastic. I would be seeing Alice after all. Our teacher, Mrs Harris, wrote the date on the blackboard. Alice came in and sat next to me and, to my surprise, Felicity sat the other side of me. Felicity usually sat at the back on her own; not willing to associate herself in any way with ‘commoners’ like us.
She leant toward me and whispered in my ear:
‘Is there really a ghost of a little girl who has her face covered in blood in that big mansion on Dark Moor?’ I suppressed a smile and replied:
‘Yes, she has an elder sister too, I think she must have a facial disfigurement as her face is wrapped up in bandages.’ Felicity’s green eyes grew wide.
‘I saw her; the elder one – she has a big sickle.’
I looked at her indifferently and then turned to Alice.
‘How was your weekend Alice?’
‘It was fine thank you. Where were you? William came round my house and you weren’t with him.’
‘I was with Susan.’
‘Your always with Susan! Why don’t you visit me for a change?’ Alice smiled, though I knew her well enough to infer it was to disguise disappointment.
‘John!’ Felicity said forcefully.
‘Yes?’
‘Why do you go to that house if it’s haunted?’ Felicity asked, for once, politely.
‘I am a friend of the ghosts.’
Felicity didn’t believe me but decided not to pursue the matter.
‘Right class, to warm up today we are going to play a game of word association.’ Mrs Harris said loudly and clearly. ‘Jude would you like to start?’ She said to one of the boys in my class; he was the carpenter’s son I think.
‘Easter’ Jude said, probably as it was approaching.
‘Hot cross buns,’ said a girl called Olivia.
‘Cake’ said Alice
‘Baker’ I said.
‘Fire’ said Felicity.
‘Eh?’ said the boy sitting next to Felicity. He was called George I think… he didn’t really speak much.
‘What do you mean “Eh”?’ Felicity demanded scornfully.
‘What does fire ‘ave to do with a bakers?’ He asked with his mouth open, not really grasping the association, not that he grasped most things anyhow.
‘The great fire of London started in Baker’s Street you blithering idiot.’ Felicity replied annoyed.
‘London’s on fire?’ George replied looking round the class in shock.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Felicity shouted.
Mrs Harris came over and grabbed Felicity by the ear.
‘I will not have blaspheming in my classroom Felicity. I think you can pay the Reverend a visit and tell him what you have just said don’t you?’ Mrs Harris said in that condescending voice adults put on when they ask you rhetorical questions.
‘Start another game class, I’ll be back soon.’ Mrs Harris said as she led Felicity away.
‘Thievery’ said Alice.
‘Socialism!’ Felicity shouted at the top of her voice as Mrs Harris took her to see the Reverend. I was the only person in my class who got the joke and was laughing while everyone else looked confused, mainly because they didn’t know what socialism was.
‘That is enough Felicity! I don’t appreciate you forcing your political views on everyone.’ Mrs Harris’s voice rang out from down the hallway. I smiled. Good old Felicity: defiant till the end.

Susan was waiting outside of school at the end of the day. I wondered if she knew what had happened to Felicity. I was eager to know what Osborne had said to her in regards to her disruptive behaviour. Susan bore that superior smile she had when anything was falling into place for her. Her green eyes glittered in the spring sun. She turned away and beckoned me to follow her as she moved in the direction of Dark Moor.
‘Don’t we need to buy a sledge hammer?’ I asked.
‘Already taken care of John. Come along now; today is the beginning of a new era.’ Now her smile seemed to radiate mystery as well as arrogance.
‘You brought a sledge hammer?’
Susan turned and looked at me with exasperation embedded in every feature.
‘No, of course not, I’m a lady; don’t you think it would be rather curious if I were to purchase a hammer? You really are a perfect imbecile sometimes John!’
This left me with the rather confusing question as to whom exactly did purchase the sledge hammer, it could hardly have been Mary but I had not the courage to ask Susan again.

We made a silent journey across Dark Moor. As I looked across the vale I thought about how large it seemed, just this landscape of wilderness. I then thought about the area of Kent; how easily I could get lost here! Also it struck me that when you think about it, Kent itself is a small part of England and the United Kingdom is a tiny, tiny part of Europe let alone Earth. Even the Empire is small in comparison to Earth. The scariest thing in this train of thought is at night though, when you look into the sky and realise that Earth is probably smaller that the furthermost star that looks as large as a small silver fish in the dark depths of the Atlantic Ocean.

In our silence I also started to go over the incident with Geoffrey again in my mind. I suppose it is the sort of thing that haunts a person until the day they die. I played no active role in his death but then just being there means in the end I’m either with Susan and Mary as a defendant or I’m facing them, head to head, in the witness box. Where do my loyalties lie I wonder, to my friends or to my soul and my conscience? Another thing has been sincerely worrying me recently. Try as I may, I cannot force myself to feel any sympathy for Geoffrey, my only feelings of repent are guided toward Nell who has lost a husband she presumes is totally innocent. I suppose that is Geoffrey’s final victory; he will never be revealed as the rapist and terrible man he was because we, those who know of his sin, are silenced by the wish of our own freedom. It is our sin that covers up his. Should I feel guilty that someone has died, or does the sin that that person has done negate any guilt I should have. Is it less of a crime when a bad person is murdered or does God see us as all equals?

We arrived at the mansion. Susan and I go up to the fourth floor and into Mary’s room. Andrew is waiting there. The first thought that enters my head is that Andrew and Mary are romantically linked but then I remember Mary’s social position in correlation to Andrew and dismiss it.
‘Why are you here Andrew?’ I asked.
‘To help you knock the wall in old chap, Susan has told me everything if your wondering how I know.’
‘You bought the hammer?’
‘I bought two, one for each of us.’ Andrew answered.
‘Right you two, move a wardrobe from another room and place it next to the door of the room we’re going to create a hideout in.’ Susan commanded, taking control.
‘You know where another wardrobe is Mary?’ Andrew asked.
‘This floor, second room on the right when you walk out the door.’ Mary directed.
Andrew left but I stayed behind for a brief moment.
‘Why did you tell him about this place, about Geoffrey?’ I asked Susan, my voice quivering with a mixture of fear and anger – who was she to play with my freedom?
‘We can trust him, and he doesn’t know about Geoffrey, we told him Mary killed the cattle and ran off because of that.’ Susan answered calmly.
‘He’s going to get suspicious when he starts to think about things!’ I said exasperated at Susan’s naivety.
Susan laughed with perfect arrogance and nonchalance.
‘Andrew is the first of many to find out about this old manor; what do you think all those uniforms are for? This house is to become our headquarters.’
‘Whose headquarters?’
‘You will find out soon enough, at the moment the name of our movement is classified information.’ Susan answered evasively; like a politician.
I looked hard at her before going to join Andrew who was now at the doorframe, with his armed crossed and a smile of ironic impatience on his face.

It took about five minuets of pure agony and total exertion of my muscles to move the wardrobe. When we had finished you would never have guessed there was a door behind it. We then proceeded to knock the wall in behind the wardrobe in Mary’s room. We only made a small hole and one that was quite thin also as we didn’t want the hole to be wider than the wardrobe itself. We then smashed a hole through the back of the wardrobe so one could escape via the wardrobe into the secret room. Then to make the operation complete we hung a dress up just in front of the hole so no one, who was not informed, would know it was there.

It was at that moment there was the sound or the bell outside the door ringing.
‘I’ll answer it,’ said Andrew dropping the hammer.
I looked quizzically at Susan.
‘Who else knows?’
Susan smiled. Within moments a boy of seventeen or so bounded into the room with Andrew.
‘Hey Susan, you good? I haven’t seen you since last year.’ He smiled. The boy had brown eyes, dark blonde hair, almost brunette, and a warm smile.
‘I’m well Hall, yourself?’
‘Yeah, the physical regime is tough but I’m doing alright, they gave me about a month off as you know,’ replied Hall
‘Sorry, why have you been giving time off from your officer training again?’ Susan asked, more out of civility than genuine curiosity. I could tell by the rather flat tone in her voice.
‘Got shot in the shoulder by Thompson, the idiot. Honestly you wouldn’t think he’s going to study physics at Cambridge next year the way he acts sometimes. He can’t shoot a rifle to save his life.’
‘I presume it was an accident,’ Susan asked, her tone was one of amusement. I suspected this was because she found Hall annoying and was making a subtle joke at his popularity between the other training officers.
‘Yeah, well of course, unless Thompson’s secretly a German spy!’ he chortled to himself. Susan laughed too, not because what he said was amusing to her but because he had failed to pick up at all what the undertones of her previous question carried and was thusly amused by his stupidity.
‘Well, one can never really trust anyone – it would not be advised to do so at any rate. Anyway, I’m glad you could visit us Hall, has your sister accompanied you here or have you come by yourself?’ Susan inquired.
‘I’m pleased to see you too Susan, I notice you are as agreeable as ever and yes, Rebecca is with me, we’re staying at an inn,’ Hall answered, smiling at Susan.
‘Good, tell her we’ll have to catch up soon, where are you staying – I mean where is this inn; I have not yet come across one in Blackberry?’
‘It’s in Outset Village, you must know it; it’s a little place at the top of the hill overshadowing Dark Moor.’
‘Anyway,’ interjected Andrew, ‘now we’ve got the civil inquiries out the way, shall we proceed to our business; I presume you have bought it with you?’
‘Well of course, but I do hope that was not your sole design in asking me to Kent?’
‘Of course not Hall, you must know how highly I regard you?’ Andrew answered.
‘More like how highly you regard the suitability of Rebecca’s hand,’ Susan sniped. Andrew cast a scowl at his sister. I was quite shocked; I had never imagined Andrew having feelings for anyone but himself. I often doubted whether he cared much for his brother and sisters. I suppose Andrew’s coldness was more of a defence mechanism than anything else, it served to protect him from the daggers of unrequited or abused love. Andrew was a very practical person, who was devoted to his beliefs and determined to make others see that they were the true way of conducting oneself, and the running of the country and empire. I personally thought he was quite amazing in the way he devoted his energies to what he believed. He was a strong opposition to the common view of the aristocracy that they were an idle bunch of people who were prone to vice. Andrew himself seemed highly against the sin of idleness and gluttony in which the rich often revelled in, and could afford to do so.
‘Ignore Susan, she talks merely to command attention as no one would pay any to her other wise. Come Hall, show me the gun.’ Andrew said.
My heart froze at his words. A gun? Hall pulled it out from his trouser pocket. It was a revolver, and I swear it was the same one I had been shot with hours ago in another world.
‘What are you doing with that?’ I demanded. Hall looked at me questioningly.
‘Who is the kid?’ He asked Andrew.
‘This is John,’ Susan answered, ‘he is loyal and can be trusted.’
‘An army needs weapons John.’ Andrew said with a faint smirk.
‘An army?’ I asked, fear rising, and my throat becoming uncomfortably dry due to the notion – what on earth were they planning?
‘Yes, John - so we can fight the evil Germans, to fight the socialists and the Christians – so we can save the verdant green fields which we have inherited from our forefathers, so we can pass on the Vitai Lampada to the next generation of English heroes and heroines, to keep things the same John, to make the winds of time ineffective, to stop the tongue being cut out of England’s mouth and replaced with one that can only utter Germanic slurs. If we go to war in the future, and someone in the street asks our mother why she weeps so, it is desirable that she replies, in all honesty, that she weeps with sorrow for Andrew who has died serving his country rather than to weep with shame that he dares not to, that he would rather stay at home with his white feathers and avoid conflict with those who want to destroy what we hold so dear to our hearts. Even if one does not agree with the concept of fighting they should do so out of duty, they should do so to protect their mothers, their sisters and their wives – who will save us if not the ones who love us, who will redeem the faults and evil of the Germans if not the English?’ Susan preached passionately. It seemed a little odd that she would rather her brother died in war than lived as a known coward for the rest of his life; I supposed it would reflect badly on the rest of the family and may spoil the family name.
‘So what, exactly, do you propose? That we shoot Hardie, Osborne and the Kaiser with that revolver?’ I said, thinking them ridiculous.
‘No, idiot!’ Andrew said, not bothering to disguise his annoyance.
‘We’ll use the revolver to practice our accuracy, so when war does break out we’ll be jolly good shots. I say, I think my stay here in Kent is going to be rather topping!’ Hall added. I began to suspect Hall was the sort of chap who was prone to folly and who, in later years, would take a fondness to port and the pursuit of women half his age. I prayed with all my heart that war did not break out for the sake of the poor, poor men who would be under Hall’s questionable command. I also began to realise that theoretically, if the war were to start tomorrow and lasted until at least 1917, although a four-year war was very unlikely – laughable even; it would probably last only a few months; William could be called to join the troops. I supposed that I would never have to fight the Germans, unless the war happened at least five or six years into the future. I could of course lie about my age if I were ardently desperate for some glory, but what worried me was whether that anyone who was recruiting would genuinely care about the age of those who were pawns in the great chess game? Pawns are there to be sacrificed after all, in the intricate construction of a plan to take a more significant piece down.
‘Well, I think with the wall knocked in we can all go home for the day. Hall, do make sure you bring Rebecca to the village fete tomorrow. I expect you to be there also John, doubtless William and Jane will be attending and so you will probably be asked to go with them, to keep Alice company if nothing else.’ Susan said before daintily leaving the room. ‘Oh, and Andrew, do find somewhere to put those hammers before you and Hall leave.’
I left swiftly after Susan, not feeling particularly comfortable around Hall, who I thought was an idiot.
‘Susan,’ I called out as I saw her walking briskly across Dark Moor. She slowed down, turned round, and eyed me inquisitively.
‘What is it John?’
‘I don’t really understand the point of this movement, as you called it. What is the point of learning how to shoot, we’ll do that in training if a war breaks out, besides most of the children here are far too young like myself for the war to be fought by them.’ I said.
‘You really are simple sometimes. We’ll merely use the idea and symbolism of patriotism to lure in our members, and then we will teach them what we believe, about religion, about politics. Then, if we do go to war they can pass on their views to their fellow soldiers and eventually there will be a large proportion of people in this country who think like us. Think what we can achieve, our political beliefs can be implemented in the governments policies; we can drive out the socialists and put an end to Liberal reforms before they destroy this country. We can free those bound in chains to an imaginary God. Think about it logically John, free your mind of what you have been taught and think about the concept of religion in a rational manner. If I were to tell you now that I held the honest belief that a giant bunny-rabbit created this world, a very hard-working one at that as he did it in six days, and that this rabbit created man and I am so convinced in the existence of the aforementioned rabbit that I have built a large building in which I pray to it, hoping that this rabbit will give me salvation and will judge me when I die, I do this every day and also read a book every day which tells me about what the rabbit has said and about the adventures of the little bunny-rabbit who is his son on this earth. You would think me mad, would you not? Of course, theoretically, if I were correct in my beliefs then I would be sane, but just supposing I was wrong then surely the only classification one can give to another who believes in, and prays to, something which is just simply not there, is insane. So as you can see my conclusion is that if it is ever proved that God does not exist then really we need to put everyone who believes in him in a mental asylum because normal people cannot be safe while such deranged believers in imaginary beings roam free.’ Susan said earnestly and with a little rage in her voice.
‘I guess,’ I answered, not really being sure what to say, not sure even if I had actually been asked a question.
‘Well, see you tomorrow.’ Susan said.

I went home and, as Susan predicted, William asked me to go to the fete with him, Jane and Alice tomorrow. I went to bed questioning whether or not I believed in God, I didn’t know how else the world came to being so I was actually quite torn between logic and necessity.