by Mark Hayden
Vicky (whose parents have cruised a few times) gave Mina a sly smile. ‘You know what, pet, you should wear Indian dress on the ship. You don’t want any of the passengers to mistake you for a waitress do you?’
‘Vicky! How can you say that?’ said Myfanwy.
Mina pushed her nose up. ‘That will not be a problem. I am a princess, remember?’
When the Clerskswell Coven had stopped laughing, Saffron said, ‘Will the Boss let you go?’
‘We’ll see this afternoon, won’t we?’
I arranged the chairs in the library around the desk and lined up the video camera on the tripod behind my laptop. Mina and Saffron appeared with the coffee and Vicky brought up the rear, closing the doors behind them. This was a strictly King’s Watch meeting, so Erin had disappeared to the stables and Myfanwy was off digging somewhere with Sofía. If you’re wondering why Mina was present, she has a post with the Cloister Court, and I wasn’t going to say no, was I?
At two o’clock precisely, the screen pinged with an incoming call. Saffron leaned over and clicked Accept.
The first shock was that the Boss was wearing her wig. Hannah Rothman, Peculier Constable of the King’s Watch, normally wears a headscarf over the titanium plate in her head. For some unknown reason, she also has a big, bright red curly wig that she wears for visitors. I don’t know about them, but it scares the living daylights out of me.
The second surprise was the man to her left, Deputy Constable Iain Drummond. I don’t particularly like the man, but I do respect him. He did his time in the field, and then became the Watch’s prosecutor and attorney. He wasn’t the important visitor, so I wondered who’d been calling.
‘Pack your bags,’ said Hannah. ‘You’re coming to town. Well, some of you are.’
‘The Cloister Court is sitting on Thursday,’ added Drummond helpfully. ‘Judge Bracewell has been to see us.’ Aah. So the Honourable Mrs Justice Bracewell was the important visitor. Strange for her to trek out to Merlyn’s Tower.
Drummond continued, ‘She wants to tie up all the loose ends before she goes away.’ He picked up a paper and his eyes flicked to where Mina would be sitting on their screen. ‘She asked me to tell you to be ready, Ms Desai. She’s going to open the hearing into the Flint Hoard.’ Mina grabbed my hand out of sight of the camera. I predict another what-do-I-wear crisis before we get out of the room.
He wasn’t finished yet. ‘And this Wessex business has come to the boil much faster than we thought. The poor Earl of Tintagel is barely cold and Mowbray is already up to his tricks. As are the Daughters of the Goddess.’ He frowned. ‘Hannah?’
The Boss tapped the end of her pen in a nervous gesture. ‘Saffron, you and Conrad need to change places.’
Saff and I looked at each other and stood up.
‘Sit down,’ said Hannah. ‘I didn’t mean it literally. Saffron, you need to be the teacher. You have to brief him on the magickal aristocracy.’ She grinned. ‘As you’re such an expert, it should be a doddle.’
Saffron went bright red. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Drummond. ‘Nine o’clock sharp in the Old Temple on Thursday for Ms Desai and Watch Captain Clarke. Got that? Good.’
He stood up and left our field of vision. Hannah moved the camera to centre it on herself and looked to her right until we heard the great oak doors close. She grinned at the screen and rubbed her hands. ‘Well? What’s she like, then?’
I groaned inwardly.
Vicky flashed me an evil grin. ‘Who would that be, ma’am?’
Hannah blinked, then shot up and disappeared from the screen. We heard an ow! and a curse in Yiddish. When she reappeared, the scary wig had been replaced by a hastily tied green headscarf and the small part of every adult that is afraid of clowns breathed a sigh of relief.
The Boss glanced at her desk. ‘Sofía Elizabetta Torres entered the country at Birmingham International Airport on Sunday morning. She was flagged as being registered with the College of St Raphael as a Mage. They do like their bureaucracy in Europe.’
‘Who snitched?’ I said.
Hannah wagged a finger. ‘Like you, Conrad, I protect my sources. Now I really do wish I’d gone to your party. That must have been a sight.’
Mina answers to Mrs Bracewell, not Hannah. It means she can occasionally say things I can’t, and she did so now. ‘Sofía is still a child, Hannah. She has enough to deal with right now and needs our support.’ She paused. ‘So long as she takes after her father, I’m sure she’ll be an asset.’
Vicky chipped in. ‘But hopefully a less annoying asset than her brother.’
Hannah held up her hands. ‘Enough already. I get the message: the Elvenham Coven have taken her under their wing. Moving on.’ She checked her phone. ‘Yes, Conrad, you can have two weeks off, and to save Mina the trouble, I asked Marcia on her behalf. No problem there either. Enjoy your holiday. You both deserve it after the Triangle business.’
‘Who’s Marcia?’ whispered Vicky, forgetting how sensitive the microphone is, and that there’s nothing wrong with Hannah’s hearing.
‘Marcia is the Honourable Mrs Justice Bracewell,’ said Hannah. ‘No one except her husband knows her real name, and I’m not sure about him. Saffron? You can cover the Mercian Watch, can’t you?’
My young partner nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best, and I’m going to base myself here. Vicky is going to mentor me.’
‘Good,’ said Hannah. ‘Vicky, you are not to go into the field under any circumstances while you’re convalescing. That’s an order. Understood?’
‘Ma’am.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Can I have a word?’ I said.
‘Of course.’
It was my turn to wait for the room to clear. On the screen, Hannah pulled at the straps of her bra, totally unconcerned that I might still be watching her. I’m not sure, but I think she’s had a double mastectomy, as well as the head trauma and other injuries. When the library was empty, I coughed discreetly.
Hannah zoned back in, and couldn’t resist another dig at my family. ‘Does Sofía look like her passport photo?’
‘How should I know? I didn’t check her passport when she turned up here, did I?’
‘Never mind. I’ll order Saffron to message me a picture.’ She folded her hands on the desk. ‘Are you taking this leave on her behalf?’
It was an honest question. Hannah cares about all her team, and what affects us affects her. ‘No, Boss. Sofía’s going home, and we’re taking a proper holiday, but I did want to call in a favour on Sofía’s behalf. Is Dean Cora still in town?’
‘The Invisible College shuts down at the end of the week. I’m seeing her tomorrow. Leave it with me, Conrad. I’ll set something up.’ She nodded to herself, making a mental note. ‘I’m glad you asked for a private word. The judge has given me a deeply unpleasant job, one that I legally can’t delegate to you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. I have to make a report on Myfanwy. Marcia even gave me a court order requiring it. Don’t worry, I know you wouldn’t let her break Confinement, but it has to be done.’
A mad thought struck me. ‘Is there a deadline?’
‘End of September. Why?’
‘Put it in your diary for Friday the twenty-fifth. Vicky can bring you.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘That sounds horribly ominous, and you know I have to get back by sundown.’
‘No you don’t. You carry out the inspection, then we’ll have a proper kosher Shabbos dinner. I shall drive you to the Cheltenham synagogue on Saturday and bring you back here in time for the fitting.’
She was already shaking her head. ‘Whatever it is, I say no. Big no.’
‘It’s for charity.’
‘I don’t care if it will feed every starving child in the world. I am not going to it.’
‘Bollywood not your thing, Boss?’
She was actually speechless. For half a second, her synapses seized up
and no words came out of her mouth. I dived right in. ‘Good. Formal invitations in a couple of weeks. You know you want to really.’
‘I do not.’
I stared at her. Just for a second. ‘You’re coming, Hannah, or I’ll tell Ruth.’
Hannah is a twin. They are utterly devoted to each other, so much so that Ruth invited me, a Goyim, to Friday night dinner for the sole purpose of checking me out properly and letting me know that I was expected to look out for Hannah. All unspoken, of course, but true.
‘You wouldn’t,’ said Hannah. ‘No, hang on, you would. You’d do anything for Mina, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes. Absolutely. But this is for you, not her.’
The internal struggle played out on her face as her right eye blinked and her nose twitched. She rubbed her cheek, and some of the freckles that lurk underneath her foundation surfaced. Finally, she spoke. ‘I have come this close to regretting that I ever met you so many times that I’ve lost count, but every time that lives were at stake, you’ve come through for me. Don’t let a social occasion break the mould.’
I nodded mutely. Why the seriousness? It was only a party, after all.
‘See you in court on Thursday,’ she said. ‘Safe journey.’
We disconnected, and I wandered through to the kitchen. Vicky was alone at the table.
‘Where’s Mina?’ I said.
‘She dragged Saffron upstairs to try on outfits for the Cloister Court. I said I was too tired. What did you want with the Boss?’
‘I was asking about Cora. Oh, and I’ve got her to come to the Bollywood party.’
Vicky dropped her phone. ‘You did what? How? Why?’
I heard the sound of heels, distantly on the hall floor. Mina was approaching. ‘I’ll tell you everything in a minute. When we’ve both made positive noises about her outfit.’
‘It’s gonna rain,’ said Ben. ‘Probably not on Saturday though. That’s the main thing.’
Cricket pitches need to be rolled. Clerkswell Cricket Club has a selection of rollers, one of which is motorised and replaced a huge monster roller that needed four men to pull it. The old roller was too big to scrap, so it was parked near the nets and left to quietly rust. It has an excellent view of the pitch, and is our favourite place to talk tactics and generally put the world to rights, especially before a game or like tonight, after training. The last of the men shouldered his bag and walked off into the village. We’d be following shortly.
‘No Bloxhams this weekend,’ said Ben, looking over the ground to the trees that screened us from Clerkswell Manor, home of Stephen and Juliet Bloxham. ‘What do you reckon the chances are?’
‘We can do without Stephen,’ I said, ‘but the Coven…’
The women’s team is officially Clerkswell Ladies; unofficially it’s the Clerkswell Coven and includes three of the Elvenham Coven as members – Mina, Erin and Myfanwy, who’s also vice-captain. I should point out that both uses of “Coven” are strictly informal. There are rules for magickal covens, but we’ll come to them later.
‘They’re going to struggle without Juliet,’ said Ben.
Juliet Bloxham is their captain and opening bat. She’s very good, and I reckon she only got involved so that she could be more successful than her husband. So far, she’s doing a great job. I even like her. Up to a point.
‘That’s not all,’ I added. ‘With Emily gone too, they’ve got no pace bowler at all. It’s a shame about Sofía.’
‘Which bit?’ said Ben with a snort. ‘The part where she laughed at the pads and gloves or the part where she used magick to bat?’
‘Both. I should have known – there’s so much magick in her fingers that she can’t help it. As soon as I bowled at her properly, instinct took over. Did Myfanwy tell you about the eight card trick?’
‘She did. She even tried it herself a couple of times. Ready for a pint?’
‘Absolutely.’
We headed down to the Inkwell, discussing whether it would be better to bat or field if we won the toss on Saturday. Before the men’s practice, the Elvenham coven had tried to get my new half-sister interested in cricket, with dismal results. They’d abandoned the experiment and gone for a drink when the rest of the men had turned up, including Ross Miller. I’d noticed before they left that he and Sofía had been talking, and when Ben and I approached the pub, Sofía looked over our shoulders with disappointment.
‘Ross?’ she said. ‘He is not coming?’
Ben and I glanced at each other. ‘Sorry, no,’ I said. ‘He’s too young.’
Her brow furrowed.
‘He’s only sixteen,’ added Ben.
‘Ptchoof.’
That’s the closest I can get to transcribing the sound she made. I’m not sure what it meant, but I detected regret, disappointment and a lingering whiff of desire. Ross is a strapping lad. Or so I’m told.
Not all of the coven had made it to the Inkwell. Vicky had gone back to rest, and Erin had gone home to Stratford on Avon. Two more stood up to leave: Myfanwy to join Ben at a table of their own, and Sofía to go and call her mother. They still had a lot to talk about.
Sofía drained her glass and gave me a kiss. ‘Your beer is strange, but good. A bit like my new family. See you later.’
Saffron was getting up, too, for the noble reason of giving Mina and me some quality time. ‘Not so fast, Saff,’ I said. ‘I’ll get you another drink.’
She sat down and looked uncomfortable. After I’d kissed Mina and been to the bar, I took a long swig from my Inkwell Bitter and said, ‘So … we all know you’re properly posh. Not like us country yokels.’
Mina slapped my hand. ‘Speak for yourself. I am an Anavil Brahmin.’ She grinned. ‘Or I would be if I weren’t a woman and hadn’t married out. Go on, Saffron, I’m all ears.’
Saffron took a deep breath. ‘How much do you want to know, and how far back do you want to go?’
‘Enough not to look like an idiot in the Cloister Court on Thursday.’
‘Right. Well. This is a northern European thing. And a Celtic thing, but with unpronounceable names. It goes right back to pre-Christian times. In every political unit – village, tribe, kingdom, whatever, there was always a mundane leader and a magickal leader. A king of the sword and a king of the staff. A warrior and a Mage. You’d have to ask Francesca if you’re interested in more details.’
‘Keep going,’ I replied. I glanced at Mina, who nodded. ‘We’ve got you so far.’
‘So, we fast-forward to the Anglo-Saxons. You’re a history nerd, Conrad, so you’ve heard of the English Heptarchy, yeah?’
I decided to let the use of nerd go past me. ‘The Heptarchy was the seven kingdoms of Anglo-Saxon England. It gave a certain Mr Martin the idea for the Seven Kingdoms and an Iron Throne, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘It did. Of course, there were non-Anglo kingdoms, too, still speaking Brythonic or Gaelic, but I’ll come back to them. In the English kingdoms, the sword kings are all part of mundane history and boring. The staff kings were elected in different ways, but that all changed with Alfred the Great.’
‘Have I heard of him?’ said Mina. ‘Was he a real person?’ She looked at me. ‘OK, OK. I’ll Google him later. Carry on, Saffron.’
‘Alfred converted a lot of the seven kingdoms to Christianity, and he said that magick was the preserve of the Church, and justice could only be dispensed by the sword king or the bishop.’ She smiled. ‘You won’t find the bit about magick on his Wikipedia page, though.’
I nodded. ‘That was well over a thousand years ago, so I’m guessing that he didn’t abolish staff kings.’
Saffron shook her head and drank some of her spritzer. ‘He let the elections go ahead, then forced the new staff king to appoint himself, Alfred, as staff regent for life and accept Christian titles in lieu. Earl or bishop.’
I remembered Saturday morning, when the Mages in my kitchen had all had text alerts about the death of the Earl of Tintagel, who also got a mention in Drummond�
��s briefing this afternoon. I made a mental note and asked Saffron to continue.
‘William the Conqueror gave the seven English staff kingdoms charters, all slightly different, and he added a couple of the old British ones, too. He also created the staff lords.’
She started to colour up again. When she blushes, the red really stands out against her hair. She swirled her wine and said, ‘Being a staff lord or lady is an honour for life. It’s not hereditary. You get one for being a big cheese in the world of magick.’ She paused. ‘Like my mum.’ She gulped her drink. ‘Yes, I am the daughter of Staff Lady Hawkins, but she doesn’t use the title. Much.’
It was an open goal. ‘So we don’t have to call you the Honourable Saffron or My Lady?’
‘Only if you don’t want children one day.’
It was Saffron’s turn to get a slap from Mina. ‘Hey. I’ll be the one to decide that. You can find your own punishment if he steps out of line.’
I racked my brain. ‘I’ve heard of Lady Kirsten. Is she one?’ Saff nodded. ‘And Rick said that someone called Milton was a big cheese.’
She frowned for a second, then slapped her head. ‘Dummy. Me, that is. It must have been Rick’s South London accent. He must have actually said Melton. That’s his nickname – Melton Mowbray, as in the pork pie. Lord Mowbray of Pellacombe in Cornwall is as big a cheese as they get. The late Earl of Tintagel was his uncle. When the staff earl dies, there’s an election.’
I thought for a moment. ‘So, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is Regent Staff Queen as well as Sword Queen of England?’
‘Close. The Duke of Albion is regent staff queen.’
The Duke of Albion is the member of the royal family who looks after magickal duties. The current Duke is female: Princess Anne, the Princess Royal. ‘How many staff kingdoms are there?’