December 26th 2038
Five Days in Winter: Part One
A special feature article from Loxley. By GW.
A special feature article from Loxley. By GW.
Good Morrow, I hope I find you all well and rested after your Yule and Christmas celebrations. Today is the start of something very special for our small flyer/Newsletter, as I recently returned to the press, having been away to get a great story for you all. Ten days ago I had the privilege of travelling to Loxley Stockade to spend some time with its inhabitants and have a good look round. The inspiration this visit has provided me with, has helped me to formulate and write a small series of articles that cover the full five days that I was there, and I intend to devote the coming days of our news sheet to passing on all of the fascinating facts of my time there. There are so many rumours currently circulating that I feel this is a wonderful opportunity to dispel those that are factually incorrect. The articles are divided due to the limitations of space on this news sheet, but I will continue to run daily sheets until the full story has been told.
Day One: December 17th 2038.
I have to admit that I have secretly wanted to visit Loxley for some time now, so when the opportunity arose, I was indeed very excited. To get things into perspective, news around the green world is flying fast, and there is great hope for all of us. Its been six months now since the foundation of Justice Day on June 11th, and it was at the start of last month, when news came that Lord Loxley had helped win a great victory in Scotland. My journey from my secret location to Loxley was a gentle passage across the moor and forests of this part of Derbyshire, and it was late this morning, as I came through the last checkpoint towards the ‘Stockade’ as the locals refer it to. I was indeed very excited to finally see the place that has fuelled the gossip for most of this year.
The weather currently is bitterly cold, and has been for some time, but wrapped up tight in my thick woollen cloak, I found the scenery on route quite beautiful, I sat happily plodding along on my horse admiring the mass of trees that lifted from my left up a steep hill, when I was informed by my guide it would be only a short time before we arrived, something that surprised me, as there were no clear signs of any visible building to my left or on the wide plain littered with trees that lead off to my right. I peered up front and could only see the road rise up in front me, and assumed that the road must bend away before I would see Loxley.
I was half correct, as the road grew steeper and rose up away from the wide open plain and into the steep hill to my left, it was only as I reached the top that I suddenly realised that within the trees to my left, I had been riding along at least two miles of high wooden wall, that was the outer defence of Loxley, and suddenly without warning I was in a huge open square of clear earth, and confronted for the first time with the wooden gates to the home of my Woodland Lord, and esteemed leader of the fight against the Empire of Knox.
The front gates, and long wall that make up the front of five square miles of the Stockade was breathtaking, and I may add at first a little intimidating. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been to build such a construction, but my admiration soared as I looked at the endless line of rough-hewn timber that has been sunken into the earth, and clamped together with wide steel brackets to create the high wall. Directly above me I could see the black clad soldiers who defend the gates, and also the many raised bows, which at that moment were pointing in my direction. A very efficient row of solders in black cloaks and tunics bearing the motif of a golden gate questioned everyone as to their business, and fortunately all I had to do was sit quite still, as my guide was questioned by the Captain.
I savoured the moment by putting pictures to the stories I had been told over the year by those who had passed through here, and for a moment I was distracted as I saw a woman wrapped tightly in a blue cloak as she observed the Captain addressing my guide. She smiled in a warm and friendly way at me, and the momentary fear I had felt and my nervousness subsided, I have no idea as to whom she was, but somehow I felt it reflected much of what I have heard about the people of Loxley. My attention was broken when the Captain gave a nod, and signalled back toward the gate, which swung open allowing myself and the few who had gathered behind me in carts or on horseback, to see the inside of the Stockade for the first time.
I must confess the first view of Loxley is quite daunting. The Gates which are very thick, and heavy, are at least twenty foot high and I would say ten feet wide, they swung back under the deck which is again ten feet wide and forms a bridge above your head as you ride inward. The first site you get of Loxley is a large open courtyard surrounded by a ten foot fence, behind me and above the platform that bridges the gates is the high watchtower, which is constructed on four tall thick posts, on to which a deck has been built that is covered with a large wide roof to keep out the worst of the weather.
In front of me and to my left, is a wide slatted gate, which I can see through, and it opens onto a road, which is flanked with what look like a long row of stables, and a very tall three-storey building of a similar wooden construction. This I believe to be the military quarters, especially judging by how clean and weed free the place is. Although it is relatively quiet within the large courtyard, I feel it is at times one of the busiest parts of the whole town. To my right and at the far end of the courtyard there is another gate, this is very similar to the main gates, except it is smaller, and is watched from either side by two guard huts, I notice on the command of the Captain, two black dressed men step out from the hut doorways, and walk to the centre of the gate, they call a command and the gate breaks in the centre and opens outward from the courtyard, and finally my heart begins to race as I enter the now famous centre of the Woodland World.
The most significant thing that hit me as I entered was how like my home it was. I think when you here the stories, you somehow feel that Loxley is a very busy and crowded place, I am pleasantly surprised to see that a great deal of the roadside is lined with lush green fields. To my left is what looks like a very large area of parkland, the grass is short and there are many scattered well tended trees within it, everything has well maintained sturdy fencing round it, and as my gaze travels slowly from south to west, I can see the long area that is known as the training fields and shooting ranges, and it is clear there is a great deal of activity there. Behind it I can see the outline of a row of cottages, although they are at least half a mile away.
To my right are the rows of new houses built at the command of Lord Loxley to ease the need of those who seek refuge, again this is something all of us have heard about, but I was surprised when I looked at them. I had thought there was a clutter of small cabins, but my eyes meet, and look down what are the very long rows of wooden built streets of cabins. It all feels very orderly, as the roads are constructed of what appears to be limestone chippings and sand, and although there are no front garden areas, I can just make out what looked like fenced rear yards, where there are several lines of washing blowing in the cold winter breeze.
As I sit back and enjoy the pace of the horse as it wanders up the road, to the right we meet the fields that are the greatest source of employment and food for those in the area. I am a blown away by the vastness of the fields, as they run right into the distance and even now at this late time of year, I see several carts and a great many workers who are busy in the fields, and appear to be cropping greens of some kind, but they are just too far away for me to see.
The road is a gentle gradient to the small row of cottages, and as I pass the training field, I can see clearly the long rows of Bowmen as they practice under the supervision of several instructors, I wonder if one of them could be the Lord of Loxley, as it is rumoured that he spends equally as much time here helping out and encouraging those who have come here to train. I know of many from my local area who have travelled here to join the forces of the Woodland Cause, and cannot help but wonder if any of those I spoke with on their passage through my own town are here today training alongside any of the Specialists.
Just before I reach the small street of stone built cottages, I pass the hustle and bustle of the Market Ground. There are three long lines of wooden built stalls filled with goods and the sound of in-depth discussions, as those who live here or have visited for the day bargain and barter their wares. The whole place is packed, and there feels like there is a life of its own in this small part of Loxley. I am amazed at what looks like a very wide variety of different people, of all ages and race. I shall enjoy walking there in the next few days and soaking up the atmosphere, for it is far more vibrant than my own local market.
The centre of Loxley as it is known, is the small row of fourteen cottages that form the central street of shops. It is clear that they were built a great deal of time ago and have seen a considerable amount of maintenance, but it feels very old worldly and I love it the moment the horse steps off the track on to a cobbled road. I start to see that there is great pride in Loxley, as it is all very clean and orderly, and my first impression was that the inhabitants obviously devote a great deal of time to keeping the place looking its best. It has just gone midday, and there are quite a few people in those houses that have been converted into shops. The scent of fresh bread wafts through the air from the bakery with its neat white door and very busy well laid out tables, and for a moment I pause my horse to allow three young women to cross and twist round in my saddle to take in all the street.
Behind me the butchers shop looks very busy indeed, as a very orderly queue of talking men and women wait for their turn to be served, across the street and just a little further along is the Trinkets and Trousers shop, a place made more famous because the daughter of its owner married the Lord of Loxley this year. The yard is at least eight feet long and I would guess somewhere around twelve feet wide, it is partially covered with a very elegantly built wood and tile porch like roof, to shield the rails of clothing below it from the weather. Garments of all styles and colours dress the long rails, at the end of which are large baskets filled with colourful cushions and pillows, and I am most taken more than anything, by the radiant display of colour. The place seems to stand out from the rest of the street, which does appear to be very much the grey colours of the stone with either white or black paintwork, its almost like a rainbow coloured oasis shinning out from the centre of Loxley.
With the wide road clear I start again to move onward, passing more little business’s that have been established in the small street of what was once the cottages of the farm labourers. Neat hand painted signs inform me of the goods available as I pass small cottage industry type shops that include, Halls Furniture, The Dairy Shop, Stein’s shoes and leather goods, Bailey’s Candles and basket ware, Holmes Iron Mongers, but what surprises me the most is Hargreaves Books. I find it an odd place to find a bookshop, but thinking, as I move silently by the young fair-haired girl who is sweeping the step, I would imagine that like myself at home, people would spend their evenings at home resting and possibly reading. As a writer and part time printer, I know how scarce good quality paper is, and there is a thriving market for old books, although they have become so precious, it is hard to find any worthy quantity. I am delighted to see through the glass that there appears to be a bountiful stock of old books, and I wonder if I will have time over the coming days to call in and see what delights I may discover. The remaining cottages are private residences, although my heart gives a little flutter as I pass number six, as the small sign shows that this is home to the infamous couple Jett Amber and Commander Rafe, I cannot help but lean forward in my seat to try and see past the partially drawn curtains within, but much to my dismay all is quiet and still, and I reach the end of the street without being rewarded, as we enter onto the Hawthorn lined track that will take us a little further on before turning, and my first destination in Loxley. The Village Hall, where I will get to see the centre of the Fellowship of the Bowman, and also what has become the nerve centre of the fight against the Empire of Knox.
The Village Hall can best be described as a converted medieval barn. It was constructed according to many, somewhere around the middle of the twelfth century. It has over the years undergone many additions and reconstructions, but as I make my way past the side of the cottages, which I may add have had considerable extension work done to the rear to extend them into shops, I can see it is far more impressive than I could ever have dreamed of. It is a huge towering building, which I would have thought was originally sided with wattle and daub, but has been clad with oak in later years. There are many tall windows along its length that cast light into the building right up to its high pent roof, and I feel the excitement bubble as I dismount, and I am lead through a very neatly trimmed and ordered shrub garden, along a stone path to the wooden door with heavy black hinges.
Walking into the huge place is at first a little surprising; you enter via a small foyer. To the right there is a stairway leading up to what I presume is either a balcony or loft type room, on my left is a packed notice board which has all sorts of community messages pined to it, one reads “Clothes for baby to sell or barter.” It is pinned rather offset on the board next to a large bright green poster that reads in bold yellow lettering, “Know your Emblems.” And I find it to be a very informative and useful guide to some of the emblems of those who have joined forces with Lord Loxley in his fight. I was not even aware that there were any forces fighting in New Avon, which I think must have something to do with what was once Stratford in the south. In front of me as I dragged my curious attention from the board, are two wooden and glass paned doors, which my guide pushes open for me, as he shows a pass to the soldier just inside.
My breath is just taken away, and my eyes can hardly take in the sight I am confronted with. I am not sure where my full attention should be applied, for there is just too much to absorb, be it the large construction of the Hall, or the huge room filled with brown and green clad personnel, as they move round the room in what I know is the heart of all the strategy applied to the fight against Mason Knox. To be honest to someone like myself, who has only ever heard the tales of Loxley while sat in a quiet remote area of the country, this place feels like it is running on mass panic, and it is so noisy, especially for a man like myself who is use to the gentle sounds of the pasture, I wanted to cover my ears to screen some of it out.
The Village Hall is vast, my initial thoughts of the stairway prove right, as although the hall is one vast room the size of good size church, it has a wide balcony on stilts that run round every wall, I can only assume this is a public gallery for some of the larger meetings held here. Everything is made from wood, it is lovingly carved with great skill and given the highest of a polished finish, I find it overwhelming and holds a strong sense of grandeur. For a man of the rural countryside who has seen little of the world, I find it to be the most beautiful and awe inspiring building I have ever entered.
The centre of the room hosts a long wide polished table. It is sturdy in its construction and set on thick heavy legs, I count eight sets as my eyes wander the length of it, all around there are other tables, which I can only consider to have been set out in stations to monitor specific areas of the country. Every table has several men and women sat round them, most of whom are in the uniform of woodsmen, all of them sat reading or writing and passing sheets of paper to people who pass by and collect them. The room is filled with streams of women carrying the papers round, and after some time of observation, I can work out that most of them go to two sections in the room at the far end.
One of them is a long table filled with women who read them all and then file them in a long row of colour coded trays, at the far end of the table is a women dressed in the brown uniform of a woodsman, her tunic carries the emblem of a Commanders pips, and when I see the straw yellow hair that falls down her back, I understand that this is Citrine who is indeed a very important member of the Specialists. I feel the sudden belt of excitement as I watch her discuss something of great importance with four woodsmen, she is slightly smaller than I expected, and yet she does have a real air of authority about her. One of the men gives a nod and breaks away, and I see for the first time the aged face and silver hair of Mr Simmons, this is the man I am hoping will have a few moments to spare to talk with me, as he is rumoured to be one of the most trusted members of Lord Loxley’s circle. His nickname is Fuse as he has great skill with explosives, and he is responsible for the entire intelligence gathering on behalf of the war effort, I watch as he crosses the room, but my eye gets caught on a large carved wooden chair, set up on a stage at the back of the Hall.
The heavily carved seat is known as Loxley’s Seat, and it was here back in April that Robert of Loxley was sworn in as the new leader of the Woodland Realm and the Hooded Man returned, I stand in the chaos of the room, feeling a strong sense of the history in front of me, and it really is overwhelming. It is at this point that I realise that here in the vast hall a deep secret has been kept for hundreds of years, as the rumours and myths spread throughout this land, yet in this spot it was never a myth, it was a closely guarded fact, that has a long line of secretive protectors who ensured the truth was hidden, until the right moment in time to be revealed. It is only in this moment that I think I fully understand why Loxley has become the focus of everything and so important to us all, I have been a member of the Fellowship since I was eighteen years old at my own lodge at home, and yet only now, here in the centre of everything do I fully understand what has befallen, and why all of those years of teachings that I have undertaken are so important. I must confess there were many times in my younger days when I thought it was a bit of a joke to learn the woodsman code and take archery lessons, but here and now I feel I have gone full circle, and suddenly like a bolt of lightening out of the blue everything in my life up to this moment suddenly feels real and makes compete sense and I feel giddy inside. I dragged my eyes from the large seat and the two equally as well carved chairs at its side, as I notice the tall windows with long dark green heavy curtains either side.
The windows are huge, and run up from the large seat like sills, up past the balcony to just below the thick heavy beams that flow across the top of the room from wall to wall, taking the load of the other beams that support the vast pent roof above them. I can actually see the detail of the trees in the polished wood, and it is clear to see that each beam is actually a fully cut down tree, that has been laid across the walls to handle the great weight of such a large roof, its almost cathedral like, especially with the banners carrying the emblems of Woodsman, Bowman, Armsman and the Keepers of the Gates. There is a strange kind of simple splendour to it, and it resounds very deeply within me, I thought on route here that I would encounter something very special, but my expectations have gone well beyond what I could imagine, and I can only feel the excitement of the coming days, and my chance to meet and talk to those who work and serve here.
Tomorrow I will fill you in on what it feels like to be in the heart of Loxley, and share a few of my notes on those I spoke with during my visit, and over the coming days, give you a real insider look at the workings of the Woodland Realm. I hope you will join me and share in this truly remarkable and wonderful adventure.
Day One: December 17th 2038.
I have to admit that I have secretly wanted to visit Loxley for some time now, so when the opportunity arose, I was indeed very excited. To get things into perspective, news around the green world is flying fast, and there is great hope for all of us. Its been six months now since the foundation of Justice Day on June 11th, and it was at the start of last month, when news came that Lord Loxley had helped win a great victory in Scotland. My journey from my secret location to Loxley was a gentle passage across the moor and forests of this part of Derbyshire, and it was late this morning, as I came through the last checkpoint towards the ‘Stockade’ as the locals refer it to. I was indeed very excited to finally see the place that has fuelled the gossip for most of this year.
The weather currently is bitterly cold, and has been for some time, but wrapped up tight in my thick woollen cloak, I found the scenery on route quite beautiful, I sat happily plodding along on my horse admiring the mass of trees that lifted from my left up a steep hill, when I was informed by my guide it would be only a short time before we arrived, something that surprised me, as there were no clear signs of any visible building to my left or on the wide plain littered with trees that lead off to my right. I peered up front and could only see the road rise up in front me, and assumed that the road must bend away before I would see Loxley.
I was half correct, as the road grew steeper and rose up away from the wide open plain and into the steep hill to my left, it was only as I reached the top that I suddenly realised that within the trees to my left, I had been riding along at least two miles of high wooden wall, that was the outer defence of Loxley, and suddenly without warning I was in a huge open square of clear earth, and confronted for the first time with the wooden gates to the home of my Woodland Lord, and esteemed leader of the fight against the Empire of Knox.
The front gates, and long wall that make up the front of five square miles of the Stockade was breathtaking, and I may add at first a little intimidating. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been to build such a construction, but my admiration soared as I looked at the endless line of rough-hewn timber that has been sunken into the earth, and clamped together with wide steel brackets to create the high wall. Directly above me I could see the black clad soldiers who defend the gates, and also the many raised bows, which at that moment were pointing in my direction. A very efficient row of solders in black cloaks and tunics bearing the motif of a golden gate questioned everyone as to their business, and fortunately all I had to do was sit quite still, as my guide was questioned by the Captain.
I savoured the moment by putting pictures to the stories I had been told over the year by those who had passed through here, and for a moment I was distracted as I saw a woman wrapped tightly in a blue cloak as she observed the Captain addressing my guide. She smiled in a warm and friendly way at me, and the momentary fear I had felt and my nervousness subsided, I have no idea as to whom she was, but somehow I felt it reflected much of what I have heard about the people of Loxley. My attention was broken when the Captain gave a nod, and signalled back toward the gate, which swung open allowing myself and the few who had gathered behind me in carts or on horseback, to see the inside of the Stockade for the first time.
I must confess the first view of Loxley is quite daunting. The Gates which are very thick, and heavy, are at least twenty foot high and I would say ten feet wide, they swung back under the deck which is again ten feet wide and forms a bridge above your head as you ride inward. The first site you get of Loxley is a large open courtyard surrounded by a ten foot fence, behind me and above the platform that bridges the gates is the high watchtower, which is constructed on four tall thick posts, on to which a deck has been built that is covered with a large wide roof to keep out the worst of the weather.
In front of me and to my left, is a wide slatted gate, which I can see through, and it opens onto a road, which is flanked with what look like a long row of stables, and a very tall three-storey building of a similar wooden construction. This I believe to be the military quarters, especially judging by how clean and weed free the place is. Although it is relatively quiet within the large courtyard, I feel it is at times one of the busiest parts of the whole town. To my right and at the far end of the courtyard there is another gate, this is very similar to the main gates, except it is smaller, and is watched from either side by two guard huts, I notice on the command of the Captain, two black dressed men step out from the hut doorways, and walk to the centre of the gate, they call a command and the gate breaks in the centre and opens outward from the courtyard, and finally my heart begins to race as I enter the now famous centre of the Woodland World.
The most significant thing that hit me as I entered was how like my home it was. I think when you here the stories, you somehow feel that Loxley is a very busy and crowded place, I am pleasantly surprised to see that a great deal of the roadside is lined with lush green fields. To my left is what looks like a very large area of parkland, the grass is short and there are many scattered well tended trees within it, everything has well maintained sturdy fencing round it, and as my gaze travels slowly from south to west, I can see the long area that is known as the training fields and shooting ranges, and it is clear there is a great deal of activity there. Behind it I can see the outline of a row of cottages, although they are at least half a mile away.
To my right are the rows of new houses built at the command of Lord Loxley to ease the need of those who seek refuge, again this is something all of us have heard about, but I was surprised when I looked at them. I had thought there was a clutter of small cabins, but my eyes meet, and look down what are the very long rows of wooden built streets of cabins. It all feels very orderly, as the roads are constructed of what appears to be limestone chippings and sand, and although there are no front garden areas, I can just make out what looked like fenced rear yards, where there are several lines of washing blowing in the cold winter breeze.
As I sit back and enjoy the pace of the horse as it wanders up the road, to the right we meet the fields that are the greatest source of employment and food for those in the area. I am a blown away by the vastness of the fields, as they run right into the distance and even now at this late time of year, I see several carts and a great many workers who are busy in the fields, and appear to be cropping greens of some kind, but they are just too far away for me to see.
The road is a gentle gradient to the small row of cottages, and as I pass the training field, I can see clearly the long rows of Bowmen as they practice under the supervision of several instructors, I wonder if one of them could be the Lord of Loxley, as it is rumoured that he spends equally as much time here helping out and encouraging those who have come here to train. I know of many from my local area who have travelled here to join the forces of the Woodland Cause, and cannot help but wonder if any of those I spoke with on their passage through my own town are here today training alongside any of the Specialists.
Just before I reach the small street of stone built cottages, I pass the hustle and bustle of the Market Ground. There are three long lines of wooden built stalls filled with goods and the sound of in-depth discussions, as those who live here or have visited for the day bargain and barter their wares. The whole place is packed, and there feels like there is a life of its own in this small part of Loxley. I am amazed at what looks like a very wide variety of different people, of all ages and race. I shall enjoy walking there in the next few days and soaking up the atmosphere, for it is far more vibrant than my own local market.
The centre of Loxley as it is known, is the small row of fourteen cottages that form the central street of shops. It is clear that they were built a great deal of time ago and have seen a considerable amount of maintenance, but it feels very old worldly and I love it the moment the horse steps off the track on to a cobbled road. I start to see that there is great pride in Loxley, as it is all very clean and orderly, and my first impression was that the inhabitants obviously devote a great deal of time to keeping the place looking its best. It has just gone midday, and there are quite a few people in those houses that have been converted into shops. The scent of fresh bread wafts through the air from the bakery with its neat white door and very busy well laid out tables, and for a moment I pause my horse to allow three young women to cross and twist round in my saddle to take in all the street.
Behind me the butchers shop looks very busy indeed, as a very orderly queue of talking men and women wait for their turn to be served, across the street and just a little further along is the Trinkets and Trousers shop, a place made more famous because the daughter of its owner married the Lord of Loxley this year. The yard is at least eight feet long and I would guess somewhere around twelve feet wide, it is partially covered with a very elegantly built wood and tile porch like roof, to shield the rails of clothing below it from the weather. Garments of all styles and colours dress the long rails, at the end of which are large baskets filled with colourful cushions and pillows, and I am most taken more than anything, by the radiant display of colour. The place seems to stand out from the rest of the street, which does appear to be very much the grey colours of the stone with either white or black paintwork, its almost like a rainbow coloured oasis shinning out from the centre of Loxley.
With the wide road clear I start again to move onward, passing more little business’s that have been established in the small street of what was once the cottages of the farm labourers. Neat hand painted signs inform me of the goods available as I pass small cottage industry type shops that include, Halls Furniture, The Dairy Shop, Stein’s shoes and leather goods, Bailey’s Candles and basket ware, Holmes Iron Mongers, but what surprises me the most is Hargreaves Books. I find it an odd place to find a bookshop, but thinking, as I move silently by the young fair-haired girl who is sweeping the step, I would imagine that like myself at home, people would spend their evenings at home resting and possibly reading. As a writer and part time printer, I know how scarce good quality paper is, and there is a thriving market for old books, although they have become so precious, it is hard to find any worthy quantity. I am delighted to see through the glass that there appears to be a bountiful stock of old books, and I wonder if I will have time over the coming days to call in and see what delights I may discover. The remaining cottages are private residences, although my heart gives a little flutter as I pass number six, as the small sign shows that this is home to the infamous couple Jett Amber and Commander Rafe, I cannot help but lean forward in my seat to try and see past the partially drawn curtains within, but much to my dismay all is quiet and still, and I reach the end of the street without being rewarded, as we enter onto the Hawthorn lined track that will take us a little further on before turning, and my first destination in Loxley. The Village Hall, where I will get to see the centre of the Fellowship of the Bowman, and also what has become the nerve centre of the fight against the Empire of Knox.
The Village Hall can best be described as a converted medieval barn. It was constructed according to many, somewhere around the middle of the twelfth century. It has over the years undergone many additions and reconstructions, but as I make my way past the side of the cottages, which I may add have had considerable extension work done to the rear to extend them into shops, I can see it is far more impressive than I could ever have dreamed of. It is a huge towering building, which I would have thought was originally sided with wattle and daub, but has been clad with oak in later years. There are many tall windows along its length that cast light into the building right up to its high pent roof, and I feel the excitement bubble as I dismount, and I am lead through a very neatly trimmed and ordered shrub garden, along a stone path to the wooden door with heavy black hinges.
Walking into the huge place is at first a little surprising; you enter via a small foyer. To the right there is a stairway leading up to what I presume is either a balcony or loft type room, on my left is a packed notice board which has all sorts of community messages pined to it, one reads “Clothes for baby to sell or barter.” It is pinned rather offset on the board next to a large bright green poster that reads in bold yellow lettering, “Know your Emblems.” And I find it to be a very informative and useful guide to some of the emblems of those who have joined forces with Lord Loxley in his fight. I was not even aware that there were any forces fighting in New Avon, which I think must have something to do with what was once Stratford in the south. In front of me as I dragged my curious attention from the board, are two wooden and glass paned doors, which my guide pushes open for me, as he shows a pass to the soldier just inside.
My breath is just taken away, and my eyes can hardly take in the sight I am confronted with. I am not sure where my full attention should be applied, for there is just too much to absorb, be it the large construction of the Hall, or the huge room filled with brown and green clad personnel, as they move round the room in what I know is the heart of all the strategy applied to the fight against Mason Knox. To be honest to someone like myself, who has only ever heard the tales of Loxley while sat in a quiet remote area of the country, this place feels like it is running on mass panic, and it is so noisy, especially for a man like myself who is use to the gentle sounds of the pasture, I wanted to cover my ears to screen some of it out.
The Village Hall is vast, my initial thoughts of the stairway prove right, as although the hall is one vast room the size of good size church, it has a wide balcony on stilts that run round every wall, I can only assume this is a public gallery for some of the larger meetings held here. Everything is made from wood, it is lovingly carved with great skill and given the highest of a polished finish, I find it overwhelming and holds a strong sense of grandeur. For a man of the rural countryside who has seen little of the world, I find it to be the most beautiful and awe inspiring building I have ever entered.
The centre of the room hosts a long wide polished table. It is sturdy in its construction and set on thick heavy legs, I count eight sets as my eyes wander the length of it, all around there are other tables, which I can only consider to have been set out in stations to monitor specific areas of the country. Every table has several men and women sat round them, most of whom are in the uniform of woodsmen, all of them sat reading or writing and passing sheets of paper to people who pass by and collect them. The room is filled with streams of women carrying the papers round, and after some time of observation, I can work out that most of them go to two sections in the room at the far end.
One of them is a long table filled with women who read them all and then file them in a long row of colour coded trays, at the far end of the table is a women dressed in the brown uniform of a woodsman, her tunic carries the emblem of a Commanders pips, and when I see the straw yellow hair that falls down her back, I understand that this is Citrine who is indeed a very important member of the Specialists. I feel the sudden belt of excitement as I watch her discuss something of great importance with four woodsmen, she is slightly smaller than I expected, and yet she does have a real air of authority about her. One of the men gives a nod and breaks away, and I see for the first time the aged face and silver hair of Mr Simmons, this is the man I am hoping will have a few moments to spare to talk with me, as he is rumoured to be one of the most trusted members of Lord Loxley’s circle. His nickname is Fuse as he has great skill with explosives, and he is responsible for the entire intelligence gathering on behalf of the war effort, I watch as he crosses the room, but my eye gets caught on a large carved wooden chair, set up on a stage at the back of the Hall.
The heavily carved seat is known as Loxley’s Seat, and it was here back in April that Robert of Loxley was sworn in as the new leader of the Woodland Realm and the Hooded Man returned, I stand in the chaos of the room, feeling a strong sense of the history in front of me, and it really is overwhelming. It is at this point that I realise that here in the vast hall a deep secret has been kept for hundreds of years, as the rumours and myths spread throughout this land, yet in this spot it was never a myth, it was a closely guarded fact, that has a long line of secretive protectors who ensured the truth was hidden, until the right moment in time to be revealed. It is only in this moment that I think I fully understand why Loxley has become the focus of everything and so important to us all, I have been a member of the Fellowship since I was eighteen years old at my own lodge at home, and yet only now, here in the centre of everything do I fully understand what has befallen, and why all of those years of teachings that I have undertaken are so important. I must confess there were many times in my younger days when I thought it was a bit of a joke to learn the woodsman code and take archery lessons, but here and now I feel I have gone full circle, and suddenly like a bolt of lightening out of the blue everything in my life up to this moment suddenly feels real and makes compete sense and I feel giddy inside. I dragged my eyes from the large seat and the two equally as well carved chairs at its side, as I notice the tall windows with long dark green heavy curtains either side.
The windows are huge, and run up from the large seat like sills, up past the balcony to just below the thick heavy beams that flow across the top of the room from wall to wall, taking the load of the other beams that support the vast pent roof above them. I can actually see the detail of the trees in the polished wood, and it is clear to see that each beam is actually a fully cut down tree, that has been laid across the walls to handle the great weight of such a large roof, its almost cathedral like, especially with the banners carrying the emblems of Woodsman, Bowman, Armsman and the Keepers of the Gates. There is a strange kind of simple splendour to it, and it resounds very deeply within me, I thought on route here that I would encounter something very special, but my expectations have gone well beyond what I could imagine, and I can only feel the excitement of the coming days, and my chance to meet and talk to those who work and serve here.
Tomorrow I will fill you in on what it feels like to be in the heart of Loxley, and share a few of my notes on those I spoke with during my visit, and over the coming days, give you a real insider look at the workings of the Woodland Realm. I hope you will join me and share in this truly remarkable and wonderful adventure.
The Tribune Today is a ficticious paper designed and constructed to acompany Heirs to the Kingdom the series of Fantasy Adventure Books by Robin John Morgan © RJM 2012 all rights reserved.
