Chapter 5

"Excuse me, we're looking for greatness. Could you please point me towards greatness?" It was a joke which Derek loved to repeat and did so at every opportunity. "Great Ness?" replied the elderly lady who was walking her Dachshund by the side of the road to whom Derek had directed his question. It took her a while but eventually she said "Keep going down this road, left at the crossroads then just keep going." Derek thanked the lady whilst stifling his laugh, wound up the window of his Morris minor and drove on. Agnes, his passenger, just shook her head. She'd heard the joke numerous times, too many to remember. Great Ness was today's destination. Twelve dancers in all would be attending to carry out their random village appearance. They had never had any trouble there and weren't expecting any today.

"Lovely place Great Ness," said Derek for no reason other than to break the silence. "Good hedges." Agnes just hmmmed in agreement, not wanting to engage Derek in too much chit-chat. Derek liked to talk. He would talk about anything and everything to the point that most of his fellow dancers had learnt to stay quiet unless they wanted to be subjected to a barrage of 'interesting facts'. His particular favourite topic was machinery. Old engines, new engines, broken engines. They all excited Derek no end.

"Here we are," sang Agnes cheerfully and jumped out of the car as soon as it had stopped, joining the other dancers who had already arrived. They were milling around, stretching and tuning instruments. There would often be a split amongst villagers when the morris side turned up. Some would be in awe of them and would stop to watch the display of skills and technique, often compared to Kata as practised by martial artists. Others would give them a wide berth, those who were afraid of them and maybe had a right to worry. A crowd would usually pick up and cheer as the music started, clapping encouragingly as the men and ladies spun, jumped and twirled in unison. Today's crowd was non-existent. There wasn't a sole who wasn't a part of the morris side to be seen. Those who had been around when the early starters arrived had fled at the sight. Word was spreading fast of the killings, the fear was amongst them. The morris side could no longer protect the people as they once did.

As the stretching and warming-up came to an end, six men slowly ambled into a small group which eventually resembled two lines of three. Brian was the first stood ready, the others fell into place around him. "Remember your lines gentlemen!" he said, more as a warning than a reminder. The intro music started, the band joined in and the men sprung to life with an initial clash of wood on wood. The music rang out loud and clear for all to hear, but only the dancers benefited from the masterful display. The dance was one of the best that they had performed, to a man they were on fire, clashing and singing in time, stepping as one. But nobody felt the impact of the movement. Nobody felt that little bit safer in the knowledge that these athletes were here to protect them whilst they slept.

The side looked around for any hint of the villagers. People passing through on the way to market. People visiting family. Even a lost person would do. There was no-one. The ladies lined up in a more formal manner than the men had, quickly taking their places and performing with gusto, dresses swishing in the light spring air, the colours of the costume flashing like a rainbow on an otherwise grey day. Brian stood looking away over the fields, his mind was elsewhere. The music stopped as the dance ended. The side came together to talk.

"Well this is pointless," stated Sylvia matter of factly.

"Where are they all?" asked Dennis, although he wasn't really expecting an answer. Dennis was the Bagman. His job was to look after the kitty, a role which he performed well. The side always had funds, although he often had to be tough with Cecil when he claimed for more than his fair share of cider.

"I think we know the answer to that one," replied Agnes forlornly. "I had to buy some new tights for today especially as well."

"Is there any point to us carrying on here?" asked Flo.

"No," replied Sylvia bluntly. "That's what I was saying. This is pointless."

"It could be worse," said Dennis, "it's not raining." His positivity didn't go down well. There was more discussion which was basically split into two camps, whether 'the show must go on' or whether the 'game wasn't worth the candle'. They decided upon one last dance, a showstopper which usually drew in the crowds. Nothing happened. Not a single spectator showed up. "Maybe we need to get us a big bass drum to bang, that might help," suggested Dennis. His idea was met with silence. Cecil told everyone to pack up, they would call it a day. He was slow to put away his melodeon and was the last one to leave. He stood looking around at the empty street and noticed a few curtains twitching. Things were changing, it was happening on his turf, on his watch. He drove home with a heavy heart.