When I reached the observatory I found the door wide open. I could hear voices above, so quietly I mounted the spiral staircase. Whimbrel, it seemed, was giving Sanderling a guided tour. I listened with interest.
‘Now in this window,’ Whimbrel announced, ‘we have Jupiter. The most majestic of celestial bodies, I’m sure you’ll agree.’
‘Hmm hmm,’ said Sanderling.
‘Obviously this particular display won’t last long,’ Whimbrel continued. ‘Within only a few weeks Jupiter will be moving away on a separate orbit. Such are the motions of the heavens.’
I concluded that Whimbrel must have got down to studying his subject more thoroughly. I also realised that I could not carry on lurking in the shadows, so I clanged my feet on the iron stairway to make my presence known.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Whimbrel when I reached the top. ‘We’ve been waiting for you to arrive.’
‘Good evening,’ said Sanderling.
‘Good evening,’ I replied.
‘I was just telling Sanderling about Jupiter,’ Whimbrel informed me. ‘Needless to say, it would look even better if we could use the telescope.’
‘Doesn’t yours work then?’ enquired Sanderling.
‘No,’ said Whimbrel. ‘It’s jammed.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare telescopes over at the admiralty?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Sanderling.
‘Oh.’
‘We haven’t got any ships either.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Whimbrel. ‘You must have.’
‘I can assure you we haven’t.’
‘I thought the whole empire was built on ships.’
‘Maybe it was,’ said Sanderling, ‘but there aren’t any now.’
‘What do you do all day then?’ I asked.
‘Nothing much,’ he said. ‘I was thinking of learning about navigation but apparently you can’t get started unless you know where north is.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘Whimbrel can show you how to find that.’
‘Can I?’ said Whimbrel. ‘Oh, yes, north. Sorry. Follow me.’
He led Sanderling to one of the windows opposite and then explained in very precise terms exactly how to locate the Pole Star.
‘That was very good,’ I said, when he’d finished. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘I’m suddenly finding astronomy much more interesting,’ Whimbrel answered, ‘and I’ve decided I’m going to the library to read about it properly.’
‘Even if Smew’s there?’ said Sanderling.
‘Of course,’ said Whimbrel. ‘I’m an officer-of-state. I can go there whenever I like.’
‘You’re coming to Smew’s next history talk as well,’ I added.
‘Am I?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You’re going to sit next to me and not sneak out before the end.’
‘What about me?’ said Sanderling.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘You only seem interested in finding out about dancing girls.’
‘Well, someone has to,’ he said. ‘Talking of which, aren’t we supposed to be visiting the Maypole?’
Without further discussion the three of us buttoned our dandy coats and headed out into the night. A few minutes later, when we walked past the cake, I was pleased to hear the faint sound of instruments being tuned.
‘Your musicians seem to be hard at work,’ remarked Whimbrel.
‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘They never rest.’
Our arrival at the Maypole was met by the usual din of laughter, songs and glasses tinkling. We looked at one another for a long moment; then I pushed open the door and we went inside. We found the place busy but not too crowded. Seated around the tables and in alcoves were an assortment of commoners. One or two of them glanced in our direction as we entered but the majority took no notice, which I had to admit came as a slight relief. There was, as I had imagined, a huge log fire blazing in the hearth; also a dartboard; and over in one corner a number of off-duty postmen were enjoying a noisy game of dominoes. I knew they were postmen by their familiar scarlet and black uniforms. I wondered vaguely how they managed to stay up late at night carousing when they had to get up so early in the morning; but then I decided that they probably caught up with their sleep in the afternoons.
Opposite the door was a counter lined with hand-pumps; behind it stood the publican. He was polishing glasses very slowly, one by one, and placing them upside down on a shelf.
‘Evening, gentlemen,’ he said, as we approached.
‘Evening,’ I replied, before glancing at the other two. ‘What are we having? Beer?’
‘I’ve only got beer,’ said the publican.
‘Oh, right,’ I said. ‘Three beers then, please.’
‘Allow me,’ said Whimbrel. With a flourish he produced a bright sixpence from his pocket and laid it on the counter.
The publican peered down at the coin. ‘The beer’s a penny a pint,’ he announced.
‘Fine,’ Whimbrel answered.
‘That’s a sixpenny piece you’ve got there.’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure you must have plenty of change.’
‘On the contrary,’ said the publican. He turned to his till and pressed the ‘no sale’ key. The drawer sprang open to reveal that it was completely empty.
‘Been a quiet night?’ I asked.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘It’s about average.’
‘Oh.’
‘Excuse me for a second, will you?’
Underneath one of the hand-pumps, a glass of beer was waiting to be made up to a full pint. The publican spent the next few moments carefully topping it off. Then he placed the glass on the counter and nodded at one of the postmen, who came over and took it without uttering a word.
I was beginning to feel quite thirsty. I watched as the postman rejoined his companions and they all raised their glasses in a raucous toast. The dominoes continued to clatter. Meanwhile, the publican went around the tables collecting empty glasses from customers who all seemed to have full ones close at hand. Finally, he resumed his station behind the counter.
‘So you can’t change a sixpence?’ enquired Whimbrel.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the publican.
‘In that case we’ll have six pints all at once. I expect the three of us can manage two pints apiece.’
‘That’s not allowed,’ said the publican. ‘You can only have a fresh pint when you’ve finished the last one.’
‘By imperial decree?’ I ventured.
‘Correct.’
‘What about the commoners?’
‘What about them?’
‘They’ve all got pints lined up,’ I pointed out. ‘How do they pay?’
The publican drew us closer and spoke in a lowered voice. ‘Most of them haven’t got a penny to their name,’ he said. ‘They get all their beer on tick.’
‘Then the solution is obvious,’ said Sanderling. ‘We’ll have ours on tick as well. Just so long as you don’t mind, that is.’
‘Certainly I don’t mind,’ replied the publican. ‘You can run a slate if you wish but it won’t look very good, will it?’
Whimbrel, Sanderling and I gazed at one another in dismay. The publican was right, of course. We were officers-of-state. It would have been quite unacceptable for us to receive our drinks on tick, especially in front of all these commoners.
It struck me that the publican had a similar manner to the confectioner, though I noticed he called none of us ‘sir’. Now he stood with his hands flat on the counter and a broad smile on his face. He was clearly very pleased with himself.
‘What are we going to do?’ murmured Sanderling. He was suddenly sounding desperate.
‘All I can suggest is that we go back to the observatory for a nightcap,’ said Whimbrel.
Sanderling’s face lit up in an instant. ‘That’s a relief,’ he said. ‘For a minute I thought we were destined for a “dry” evening.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘That’s decided then.’
Politely we thanked the publican for his hospitality.
‘My pleasure,’ he said, as we made for the door. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ we all chorused.
Once we got outside Sanderling said, ‘Shame there weren’t any dancing girls. We must have chosen the wrong evening.’
‘Definitely the wrong evening,’ I agreed.
The three of us trudged towards the park. The moon had risen but the sky was black.
‘Listen,’ said Whimbrel.
We stopped and listened. For a moment all was quiet. Then in the distance we heard a prolonged roll of thunder.
‘Did that come from the east?’ asked Sanderling.
‘Don’t know,’ I said. ‘You tell me.’
Chapter 7
As the clock struck ten, Smew opened the register.
‘Let us begin,’ he said, taking up his pencil. ‘Chancellor of the Exchequer?’
‘Present,’ said Brambling.
‘Postmaster General?’
‘Present,’ said Garganey.
‘Astronomer Royal?’
‘Present,’ said Whimbrel.
‘Comptroller for the Admiralty?’
‘Present,’ said Sanderling.
‘Surveyor of the Imperial Works?’
‘Present,’ said Dotterel.
‘Pellitory-of-the-Wall?’
‘Present,’ said Wryneck.
‘Principal Composer to the Imperial Court?’
‘Present,’ I said.
‘His Exalted Highness, the Majestic Emperor of the Realms, Dominions, Colonies and Commonwealth of Greater Fallowfields?’
There was no response.
‘Absent,’ said Smew.
I couldn’t see whether he put a cross or a tick in the register, because once again he was holding it tilted slightly towards him.
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ said Wryneck. ‘We’ve received a letter from the emperor.’
From his inside pocket he produced an envelope. It was addressed to the cabinet and bore the imperial seal.
‘Before we open it can I have a look at the postmark?’ said Garganey.
‘Certainly,’ said Wryneck.
He handed the envelope across the table and Garganey examined it closely.
‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘This has taken four days to arrive, yet it was only posted around the corner.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Smew.
‘Postmarks vary throughout the empire,’ Garganey explained. ‘This was posted here in the royal quarter.’
‘So where’s it been in the meantime?’
‘Good question,’ said Garganey. ‘Clearly my efficiency measures are taking a while to work their way through the system. All the same, I intend to persevere until I see some improvement.’
‘At least this tells us the emperor is near at hand,’ said Whimbrel.
‘Was there ever a suggestion he wasn’t?’ enquired Wryneck.
‘Not that I’ve heard.’
‘What did you mean then?’
‘Just . . .’
‘His Majesty is absent from cabinet,’ interrupted Smew, ‘which is all we need to know. Any further conjecture is unnecessary.’
An awkward silence followed during which Garganey opened the envelope. Inside was an ornate card, which he passed around for each of us to see. It read:
THE EMPEROR OF GREATER FALLOWFIELDS
HEREBY EXPRESSES HIS WISH FOR A
COURTLY ENTERTAINMENT
TO MARK THE OCCASION
OF THE
TWELVE-DAY FEAST.
‘There we are,’ said Smew. ‘I thought we’d receive an official reminder eventually.’
‘Rather a low-key request,’ I observed. ‘It certainly lacks the grand tone of previous communications.’
‘Nevertheless, it carries the same weight as any other imperial edict,’ said Wryneck.
‘Indeed,’ said Smew. ‘Now we’d better get on. Can we all turn to page forty-three in our textbooks?’
Everybody helped themselves from the stack of books in the centre of the table. There still weren’t enough to go around, however, so again I had to share with Whimbrel.
‘Now if I remember rightly,’ resumed Smew, ‘Sanderling was the murderer, Whimbrel the ghost and Garganey the king. I’ll be the lady and the rest of you are the noble guests. Decide amongst yourselves who’s going to be who and then we can begin.’
Dotterel, Brambling, Wryneck and I quickly shared out the remaining roles.
Meanwhile, Garganey rose from his seat and started walking around the table in a very self-conscious manner.
‘A final note,’ said Smew. ‘Don’t forget that the king is the only person who can’t see the ghost. All right, Whimbrel, proceed when you’re ready.’
‘Proceed where?’ Whimbrel asked.
‘You’re supposed to sit down.’
‘I’m sitting down already.’
‘No,’ said Smew, ‘you have to enter the room and sit in the king’s place.’
‘Oh,’ said Whimbrel, ‘right.’
He got up, went out of the room, then came back and sat down on Garganey’s empty chair. In the meantime, Garganey continued to walk around the table. When nobody spoke he walked round again.
‘Come on, someone,’ urged Smew.
‘Sorry,’ said Brambling. ‘I missed my cue. Please Your Highness to grace us with your company?’
‘The table’s full,’ said Garganey.
‘Here’s a place reserved, sir,’ said Dotterel.
‘Where?’ said Garganey.
‘Here, my good lord,’ said Dotterel. ‘What is it that moves Your Highness?’
‘Which of you have done this?’ said Garganey.
‘Done what?’ said Dotterel.
‘That’s my line, actually,’ said Wryneck, ‘and you said it wrong.’
‘I’m fully aware whose line it is,’ replied Dotterel. ‘I’m just asking what’s been done?’
‘Well, haven’t you read the play?’ asked Smew.
‘Of course I have.’
‘Then you must know about the murder.’
‘Yes,’ said Dotterel, ‘and so does the king.’
‘Your point being?’
‘My point being that you said the king is the only person who can’t see the ghost.’
‘Correct,’ said Smew.
‘So if he can’t see the ghost why does he ask who’s done it?’
‘Maybe I’m sitting in the wrong seat?’ suggested Whimbrel.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Dotterel.
Smew gave a sigh. ‘Perhaps we should all have a discussion about the meaning of the play,’ he said. ‘Just to ensure we’re all reading from the same page, so to speak.’
‘I agree,’ said Garganey, sitting down in Whimbrel’s place.
‘That’s settled then,’ said Wryneck.
There was a brief hiatus in the conversation while everybody looked through their texts.
Then Smew said, ‘All right, does anyone want to tell us what this play’s about?’
‘Well, basically,’ said Brambling, ‘it’s about this nobleman who’s told by the oracles that he’ll be king; and that his friend, who’s also a nobleman, won’t.’
Smew frowned.
‘A brief but fairly accurate summary as far as it goes,’ he announced, ‘but really I was referring to the broader meaning of the play.’
‘Oh,’ said Brambling, ‘sorry.’
‘It’s an example of the feudal system in perfect working order,’ said Wryneck, ‘until someone tampers with it.’
‘Very concise,’ said Smew. ‘Yes, to operate properly a feudal kingdom depends on obedience, trust, honour and duty. Here we have a generous king surrounded by his loyal noblemen and all appears to be well. The natural order is upset, however, by ambition, trea
son and murder. You’ll also notice that the play lacks any kind of sub-plot. There are no trivial sideshows or distractions. All is cast in desolate shade. The entire five acts are weighed down with the consequences of treachery. Even the murderers mistrust one another.’
We sat in silence around the table, each of us pondering Smew’s stark description. Through the windows I could see dark clouds approaching. There’d been rain overnight and now, it seemed, it was going to rain again. The hands of the clock had almost reached eleven. This meant that the meeting would soon be over.
‘By the way,’ I said, ‘I’ve taken the liberty of commissioning some music to accompany the play.’
‘Really?’ said Smew. ‘So we can look forward to hearing it portrayed in abstract symphonic terms?’
‘Hopefully,’ I replied.
‘Or will it be simply a variation on the imperial anthem?’ enquired Wryneck.
‘Certainly not,’ I said. ‘What are you implying?’
‘I’m implying nothing,’ said Wryneck, ‘but you may wish to know that altering the imperial anthem is officially regarded as an act of treason.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘I’ve been studying the public records,’ said Wryneck. ‘They make very interesting reading.’ He now turned to Garganey. ‘It is also treasonous to interfere with the imperial postal service.’
‘Even to make improvements?’ said Garganey.
‘I’m afraid so,’ replied Wryneck. ‘I’m only telling you this for your own good, you understand.’
‘Thank you,’ said Garganey, ‘and what’s your function exactly?’
‘I’m Pellitory-of-the-Wall,’ said Wryneck. ‘The name speaks for itself.’
Chapter 8
When the rain came down, Whimbrel was unable to see the stars. Instead, he spent the evening in the observatory studying his charts. He’d been in the library all afternoon reading about astronomy and at last he appeared to be making some progress. I watched as he worked with ruler and compasses, making calculations and writing the results on his notepad. Eventually, though, he decided he’d learned enough for one day.
A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In Page 6