K sat upright (as much as the canopy allowed), and hissed out, overjoyed:

‘Psst, Macarius. It’s me, your friend Joseph K!’

The old man snorted and coughed and snapped his eyes open, coming to.

‘Whassat? Who’s there?’

‘The lawyer, Joseph K. I’m sorry – I didn’t realise anyone was here.’

‘Well, bless me so it is!’ He shifted himself upright, blinking at K in the darkness.

‘What a pleasing coincidence – I was just wondering how you were getting along when I lay down here for a rest.’

‘That’s funny’ said K, relaxing, ‘I was thinking along the same lines regarding yourself. I’m doing alright, but I’ve been suspended. Tollswhip...’ He faltered, not knowing where to begin, yet Macarius laughed aloud at the news.

‘Suspended! Within his first week! I’ll be! Forgive me for saying so, Mr. K, but you didn’t strike me as that type! Nevertheless, with a fellow like Tollswhip involved such a thing isn’t so exceptional. He has a way of making enemies, I’m sad to say.’ He scratched his balding head thoughtfully.

‘So, what do you plan on doing during this suspension? I don’t suppose there’s any point in my advising you to keep a low profile, a rebel like yourself, that is!’ He chortled gleefully.

‘Truth be told, I’ve no idea what to do with myself, sir.’ K answered him, somewhat abashed. ‘I’ve just made a friend – a man by the name of Horace – a messenger, and he’s invited me to his house for dinner. It’s somewhere outside the grounds, in the undeclared regions.’

If possible, Macarius looked even more amused and delighted by these words – his bright blue eyes twinkled like points of light in his wrinkled, beaming face.

‘I can see by your smile I’ve said something silly, or amusing. What’s the matter, may I ask?’

‘Oh nothing at all, Mr. K, don’t fret sir! It’s only that Horace is a very old and a very good friend of mine. One of the few who’s stuck with me through thick and thin. I’m glad you’ve had occasion to befriend him; that is not the easiest feat in the world, let me tell you!’

He made an attempt to sit upright after saying this, but bashed his head on the low branches with a leafy crash.

‘Do you think we might continue this conversation out in the open air, Mr. K?’ he asked.

They both shuffled out again into the sunshine, which was setting now that it was past noon, and they found a patch of shade in which they could sit without being the worse off for the heat.

‘I must say, I’m impressed.’ Macarius went on, still smiling and chuckling to himself over the news.

‘I confess I can’t quite see why.’ Joseph replied, in all honesty. ‘I find this place so perplexing. I can’t seem to settle in or get a grasp of it, and I’ve been hopeless at following instructions.’

Macarius stopped grinning and looked at him more slyly.

‘I think, Mr. K, that you have quite an excellent grasp of this place. I suspect all this perplexity of yours is just a bit of false modesty. Or am I wrong?’

K looked at him and fell silent. He didn’t know how to answer.

‘Trust to your instincts!’ The old man said. ‘You’re cleverer than you look, and you’ve fallen in with some good people (if I may say so). Don’t blow it by becoming Tollswhip’s latest pupil.’

There was something nagging K as he listened to these words of praise, even as they fostered in him some more confidence.

‘That’s very kind of you to say so,’ he began guardedly, ‘I wanted to ask: I saw you the other morning, looking a bit harassed. It’s none of my business, but was anything the matter?’ He regretted these words the moment he’d said them, for Macarius’ face came under a cloud of troubles, and lost its brightness. Still, his tone when he spoke was affable and kind.

‘Nothing to concern yourself about, Mr. K. Put it out of your mind, if you will.’ He gave another smile, albeit one marked with sadness and restraint.

‘Well, I’m very glad you’re going to Horace’s for dinner in any case. You’ll get to meet his family whom I count among my own in this world. Lovely people.’ He cheered up again, reflecting on this, which much reassured K, who was rebuking himself for his tactlessness.

‘But now,’ the elder went on, ‘while we’re waiting here – presumably for the end of his shift – how about you fill me in on the details of this suspension? I mean, not if you’d rather you didn’t.’

Joseph felt he didn’t mind very much either way, so he spent the next hour and a bit explaining the mess he’d got into with the labourers, Tollswhip’s letter, meeting the Lady, and getting found out. Macarius interrupted him at various points, asking very precise questions about certain things. He was especially interested in K’s exploits up top – probably because it was an utterly unknown world to him, K presumed. In the end, he gave the young man a slap on the shoulder, and commented on how well he could tell a story, but K felt he must be pleased with him for other reasons too – most likely for winding up Tollswhip. He couldn’t blame anyone for disliking the old crow, but it struck him that in the present case, the enmity ran deeper than dislike. He thought better than to ask about it.

The shadows had lengthened considerably while they were talking – snaking across the grass inch by inch – and when K checked his watch he realised he’d left it too long and would be late in meeting Horace. Forgetting all else, he bade Macarius a hasty goodbye before dashing back up to the building. Fortunately, Horace was only just coming out of the entrance when K caught up with him – his bulldog face betraying no particular feelings of gladness to see the young lawyer. Rather, he swung his knapsack up onto his shoulder and, with a single grunt of acknowledgement, began leading the way to his home.

‘We’ll have to take a slight detour – for form’s sake. It’s best if you’re not spotted wandering where you oughtn’t.’ He explained in an undertone, as they cut across the lawns. The heat was fierce, keeping pace with Horace’s short but swift strides through the grass, and K found himself wishing for a bit of cloud cover. In fact, as he looked around him, he noticed how peculiar it was that not a single wisp of cloud could be seen anywhere. Hurrying on, sweat dripping from his brow, he mentioned this to Horace between breaths.

‘Well that’s ‘cause we’re above the clouds, isn’t it?’ The messenger remarked, without irony.

‘That explains it!’ thought K, ‘It’s a pity I’m built for life on ground level, though.’

‘You’ll get used to it.’ Horace continued, as if reading his mind. ‘The heat, same as the brightness. It’s long ceased to bother anyone I know, truly. In fact,’ he went on, as they began to weave around a large line of shrubs, moving out of view of the estate’s front-facing windows, ‘I’ve heard from officials who frog-hop – meaning they conduct business down in the town, on occasion – that the world below appears a lot duller and dimmer by contrast.’

He led them North and East-wards, round a side of the estate building that K had never seen before – past huge beds of lavender, encompassed by bees, and tended by the odd gardener with protective gear and purple-stained gloves, who picked the lavender in great woven baskets strapped to their backs. Horace greeted some of these people as he passed them, and they all seemed to know him very well, at least by sight. He grabbed a handful of the flowers in his hands and rubbed them together to release their scent.

‘A-ah,’ he sighed, ‘the most fragrant of all flowers, is it not, Mr. K?’

‘I’d never really thought about it.’ Joseph replied, surprised at this side to his new friend.

‘Think on it, and I wager you shall soon agree!’

As they travelled further on, Horace’s pace relaxed, but K noticed a new spring in his step the further he got from work and the closer he drew to home. It was quite a journey: they passed through the great flower gardens, an orchard of apple trees in blossom, and several greenhouses, before they reached a tall, drystone wall with a rotten old wooden gate that opened out onto the wild. It took about an hour to get that far, and just as long trekking across a country marked with unkempt fields, hills, and copses of trees, to get to the settlement where Horace’s family dwelt. K was glad that he was not burdened by a very talkative companion, for it was hard-going, and tiring. Still, Horace whistled and sang to himself as he strolled along contentedly, for he judged the distance at nought, and enjoyed the relative solitude in such natural surroundings.

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Tramping up onto the crest of a hill on those uncharted grounds, just as K was wondering how much longer it might be, they got a view of a distant tree line, and, lying low in a little basin before it, a disordered little grouping of dwellings – about two dozen of them. They looked pretty mean to K’s eyes at that distance – rough and ready, even primitive – but the sight of some slender spires of smoke rising from their chimneys filled him with a sense of ease and nostalgia, so homely was the impression it made upon him. This sense only increased as they drew nearer, and he could make out the children running about playing their games amid the buildings; the sound of laughter, and the ringing of a bell for supper.

Close-to, the houses were not nearly so rude as they’d appeared at a distance. K could appreciate their rustic originality, seeing the way each beam, or post, or lintel, had its own unique charms. For each had been fashioned by hand, so that no two houses were alike. When the first open avenue appeared – a kind of thoroughfare for this little hamlet – he had the impression that the buildings were squaring up to each other in friendly competition, like a group of girls at a party showing off their new dresses – their differences showing off their individual merits. It was a simple dirt track that Horace led them up, while various persons leaned out of or lolled about the doorways on either side, watching them pass by with curiosity.

They headed Northwards, while the sun descended on their left, towards the tree-line of those woods he’d spied from afar. On the borders of this forest stood Horace’s house, somewhat set apart from the central cluster, with a good acre or so of land he could call his own.

As they approached, up the slope of a small hill, a little girl came running out of the house to meet them. She flung herself into Horace’s arms in greeting, burying her face in his collar.

‘Rosey, my darling! What’s the matter? Livy told me you’d led her on a wild goose chase all this morning. What’s that about, eh?’

The little girl mumbled something into his collar, too embarrassed to speak up in front of a stranger, too wily not to feign innocence.

‘Come on then, old girl.’ Horace said soothingly, playing along, ‘let’s get inside, give your old man a chance to rest his weary soul.’

They passed some more of his children on the way in – two boys fighting with wooden swords on the porch, who took the opportunity to use their father’s legs as a bit of live scenery to block each other’s blows. Horace sent them on their way as he led K inside. His daughter – Primrose, she was called – wriggled out of his arms at once, and dashed off to one of the doorways that lined their front hall. It was a large, open, and spacious room – a living space-cum-kitchen-cum-workshop. Not that space was scarce for them up there in the “wilds”, but evidently the family liked coming together in this one space, for it bore all the signs of being much-used.

A table stood to one side, covered with a few books, some knitting that had been laid aside, and a mug of half-drunk tea; a handsome rug lay on the floor, covered with wood-shavings and bits of sawdust, as if it were a wood shop; and a couple of easy chairs had been shoved into a corner by a fireplace, their cushions thrown about haphazardly. Away from all this disorder, yet not unaware of it, stood a tall, dark and graceful woman – lost in a book of some sort while her daughter, Livy, held a grazed and bleeding hand in hers. The latter looked up curiously as the two men entered, but her mother, with her back to them, kept reading and thinking aloud:

‘Cuts from a rowan… treat with an infusion of lavender and dock leaves, boiled in water… well it’s worth a try my dear, but I don’t know if it will stop the bleeding-’

She noticed her daughter’s nodding to Horace and K, and span around to see them for the first time.

‘Excuse me, my love – I’ve brought a guest for dinner tonight, Mr. Joseph K.’ Horace announced, and K bowed politely.

‘Mr. K is a lawyer up at the estate, although I found him at a loose end this afternoon.’

‘Very pleased to meet you, Mr. K.’ The woman snapped shut the book she was holding and gave K her hand. ‘You’re very welcome here.’ She smiled a kindly smile, and K was struck by the resemblance between mother and daughter. Mrs. Horace (he didn’t yet know her name) was so unlike her husband in appearance, that it explained all at once the stark contrasts in their children, each of whom, it appeared, had been firmly cast in the mold of one or the other. She was a very beautiful lady, whose elegance and groundedness (a fine combination) made K feel quite young and foolish and clumsy with his movements. It was some slight relief to see Livy looking as shy as he felt, for she had turned aside and was now wrapping her hand in a bandage, shrinking into a corner of the room.

‘It’s a lovely place you have here.’ K remarked, shaking off his awkwardness.

‘Thank you, although you must be too polite to notice what a tip it is,’ She winked, sinking into a chair beside the table, and taking up a bowl with some water in it.

‘Dear,’ she said to her husband, in a different tone of voice, ‘do you think you could fetch us some dock leaves, and a bit of lavender from the garden? You could show Mr. K around.’

‘Certainly, my love,’ Horace grunted, swinging his knapsack onto a hook by the door. ‘This way, Mr. K.’

‘Joseph, please. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.’ K said, following him through an adjoining room which led out into their garden.

‘Palmer.’ He answered, ‘and the lady of the house – Mrs. Palmer that is – her name is Delia.’

A flat lawn, surrounded by deep beds of herbs, flowers and every useful plant – far more than K could think of naming – welcomed these two, with a stillness made all the more peaceful by the gentle rustle of wind in the woods beyond. A high, stone wall separated one from the other, though there was a narrow gateway through which K supposed there was much coming and going. Horace gave him a quick tour of the beds while he plucked some handfuls of this and that, and K marvelled at the colours and smells of this magic garden buried in the wild.

Horace took the ingredients inside, but it wasn’t long before he was back, shaking K out of his reverie by asking him to lend a hand with a table and chairs.

‘We’ll be dining out here, on the lawn.’ He explained.

They laid out the tables on the grass, with a bit of help from Horace’s two sons – Tybold and Uriant – though it took some persuasion for them to lay down their arms, and set up a bit of shelter by hanging a large sheet over two clotheslines. Primrose was roped into laying out the plates, glasses, and cutlery, with an air of solemnity to suggest she was suitably chastened for that morning’s mischief. A moment later, however, K saw her tipping a few dead flies into her sister’s glass when she thought no one was looking, a wicked grin on her cherubic face. At last the ladies of the house came out with Horace himself, all bearing trays of food which they laid out before inviting K and the others to take their places. Once seated, Horace proposed a quick toast: ‘To good company!’ at which they all cheered before serving themselves some of the food.

There were carrots and wild parsnips, huge lettuce leaves stuffed with tomato and garlic and herbs, boiled potatoes with soured cream, stuffed peppers and much else besides. They were not averse to eating meat, Horace explained, but it was hard to come by unless one went trapping in the woods or else poaching on the estate. Some of the paperless took to this, but not the inhabitants of their little patch, for they respected the ruling authorities. But K felt nothing was lacking in this generous spread, and besides, he was more interested in the conversation that was taking place. Delia was explaining to Horace what had happened during the day, to a less than rapt audience, occasionally interrupted by a question from him.

‘Those Farleigh boys, and the Greenwoods, have been up at the estate, agitating for more work and better pay.’ She began, not raising so much as an eyebrow from her husband.

‘...and is there something unusual about this particular instance?’ He asked.

‘Livy, dear. Tell him what you overheard.’

‘Well,’ she started, a little reluctant to be put on the spot before a stranger, ‘I went up around 10 o’clock to speak to Mrs. Plewes about jobs for the day, and I took Prim with me – just to get her out of mum’s hair. But she gave me the slip, soon as we got within the grounds, didn’t she, Prim?’ She glared at her little sister, half serious, half teasingly. The younger girl sipped some of her water with a most dignified expression, as if she hadn’t heard.

‘That really scuppered my plans because I thought I’d lost her completely, and you know how hard it is to find your way around the estate. So I gave off seeing Mrs. Plewes and went searching for Prim everywhere I could think of, thinking it was sure to be pointless, for if she kept moving from place to place then we’d keep missing each other and-’

‘Urgh, get on with it!’ Tybold broke out, in frustration. Both parents had to tell him to calm down and listen patiently before Livy could continue, flushed with annoyance.

‘Eventually,’ she went on in a louder voice, ‘I ended up by the stables – across the courtyard from the security offices and guard’s posts.’ Horace nodded.

‘Well, because I know one of the grooms there,’ she blushed even more deeply saying this, ‘I thought I’d drop by for a chat and feed the horses, you know. So I went in to the nearest stable. It was pretty quiet and empty inside, except for the jostling and snorting horses, and I gave Daisy (she’s a favourite of mine) a bit of a stroke, when I started to hear a bit of commotion outside.’

Here Horace’s ears pricked up, and he raised his head attentively.

‘So I edged over to the door and looked out into the courtyard to see some of Wurtring’s men – security people – dragging the two Farleigh boys by the arms – as if they’d caught them at something. Well, they were kicking up a fuss because, they said, they’d done nothing wrong – no breach of security. Eamon, I think it was, was saying that they’d only confronted Mr. Dungle about their wages, and those disputes were a matter for the management to sort out, not security. Wurtring’s men just laughed, and one of them answered that things were changing, and our Eamon was out of touch. He said Tollswhip had signed off on some agreement with Wurtring, to let them – those horrible men! – handle all disputes about work for us paperless. Then I think Aidan, the younger one, called out that it wasn’t fair, that he must be lying. I didn’t stick my neck out to look, but I think he got a wallop from one of the guards for that remark, because he shut up at once. After that another of the men – probably their ringleader when Wurtring himself isn’t around – started bragging about all the new ‘changes’ they were going to introduce. (I think they had the boys on their knees at this point).

‘Well, this man was going on about us all, out here in the wilds, saying that our days were numbered, and that we shouldn’t rest easy. He even brought up the Lady’s decree as if it meant nothing, hinting that Wurtring and Tollswhip were in talks seeking to revoke it all, for the sake of ‘expansion of estate interests’. Eamon said it sounded far-fetched, and that got him a wallop on the top of his head (I saw that one). They kept them there for about an hour, just to humiliate them – and all that time I was hiding in the stables, unable to leave for fear of being seen. Then they got them up and marched them away from the estate, and after that it was safe for me to come out. So I went looking for Prim again, and shortly after that was when I saw you, dad.’