A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In

by Mills, Magnus

  A moment later we all knew the contents. It was a final reminder from the railwaymen. They wanted their invoice settled forthwith. The letter also mentioned that we could expect a visit from Messrs Gadwall, Merganser and Grosbeak. They would meet us at the counting house at twelve o’clock.

  ‘I suppose we have no alternative but to pay,’ said Smew. ‘After all, they’ve fulfilled their part of the bargain.’ He turned to Brambling. ‘Do we have enough money in the imperial purse?’

  ‘Almost,’ Brambling replied. ‘We’re just half-a-crown short.’

  ‘That’s the amount we lent to those strolling players,’ said Wryneck. ‘They’ll have to pay it back immediately.’

  ‘Well, they should have recouped the outlay by now,’ remarked Dotterel. ‘I gather their production has been a huge success.’

  ‘Surely, though,’ said Garganey, ‘if we’re down to our last half-crown we’re in dire straits indeed.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Smew. ‘You really should have more faith in the empire. Our people are our greatest resource, and I have no doubt that together we will all pull through.’

  These were precisely the kind of words I wanted to hear. Indeed, I was most impressed by Smew’s bearing during this episode. He seemed to possess all the prerequisites of a true ruler of men: sound judgement, patience and calmness. Smew was unflappable, which meant that we had nothing to worry about.

  ‘I will lead a delegation to the counting house,’ he continued. ‘Accompanying me will be the following officers: Chancellor of the Exchequer, Pellitory-of-the-Wall and Principal Composer to the Imperial Court. The rest of you should proceed directly to the reading room of the great library. After the meeting I intend to invite the visiting envoys for high tea; surprise them with a nice treat and demonstrate by example what the empire is capable of.’

  Thus encouraged we set about getting ready for twelve o’clock. Exactly why Smew had chosen me to join the delegation I had no idea, but I was determined to live up to the part. Accordingly, I decided to wear my dandy coat, which I happened to have left at the cake. There was just time to retrieve it before the scheduled meeting, so with Smew’s permission I hurried off.

  When I reached the cake I found Greylag in a very ruffled state. His usual manner was placid to say the least, but when I entered the auditorium he had a hunted look about him. The orchestra were all sitting fiddling with their instruments distractedly, while Greylag paced around in front of them.

  ‘Greylag,’ I said. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

  It took a few moments for Greylag to recover, and then I sat him down and got him to tell me all about it.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, ‘but these two men were here not half an hour ago. They asked all sorts of questions about the orchestra: how many musicians do we have; how many pieces in our repertoire; how many instruments in each section; how many years’ experience as musicians; they even went through my manuscripts.’

  ‘Did they leave them all intact?’ I enquired.

  ‘Yes,’ said Greylag. ‘They handled everything very carefully, but they shouldn’t have interrupted our work, should they, sir? We’re supposed to be getting on and they made us stop.’

  The visitation had clearly affected him, but I concluded that no real harm had been done apart from the break in his creative process. I felt sympathetic nevertheless. After all, he was quite unused to having outsiders poking around when he was carrying out his duties.

  ‘I don’t suppose these men were dressed in olive drab, were they?’ I asked, although I already knew the answer.

  ‘Yes, they were, sir,’ said Greylag, ‘both of them.’

  ‘Did they give you anything?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Well, never mind,’ I said. ‘They’ve gone now.’

  ‘But they shouldn’t have been here, should they, sir?’

  ‘No,’ I concurred, ‘not without asking.’

  I couldn’t afford to delay any longer, so I assured Greylag he wouldn’t be disturbed again, then collected my dandy coat and headed back. The delegation was just about to leave when I arrived. Smew was now wearing the ceremonial crown. Wryneck and Brambling were both attired in their smartest outfits. I joined them and we set off for the counting house. It wasn’t quite twelve yet, but the three men were already waiting at the door. As I expected, they were all dressed in olive drab uniforms. I recognised Gadwall from our previous encounters. His official title was Commissioner of Railways for the City of Scoffers. Merganser turned out to be the man who’d tipped me my silver ‘sixpence’. He was introduced as Chief Recruiting Agent for the City of Scoffers. The third man I hadn’t seen before. His name was Grosbeak, and he announced himself as City Treasurer. Apparently he didn’t consider it necessary to mention which city he was referring to; and this omission more or less set the tone for the proceedings. Several times during the ensuing talks the three men referred simply to ‘the city’ as if we were already quite familiar with its every detail. Furthermore, they made it clear that they regarded the empire as little more than peripheral to the City of Scoffers, which in turn they seemed to think was at the centre of the universe. They spoke as though it had been extant for a thousand years, rather than a few fortuitous decades; and when compared with the City of Scoffers all else paled into insignificance.

  Centre of the universe or not, it was certainly the centre of an integrated railway system. We quickly gathered that the network radiated in all directions from a vast industrial heartland. Just lately a new spoke had been extended into Greater Fallowfields; and now the contractors were demanding payment. It transpired that Grosbeak handled the collection of debt.

  Before discussing terms, however, Smew insisted that the correct protocol be followed. He began, therefore, by presenting his officers-of-state. First to step forward was Wryneck, who managed to give a very good account of himself. He had obviously done his homework and knew just enough about railway gauges to hold his own in polite conversation. He bowed curtly to Grosbeak, and the gesture was duly returned.

  When my turn came, Smew accidentally introduced me as Principal Conductor to the Imperial Court.

  ‘Principal Composer, actually,’ I said, shaking hands with Grosbeak, ‘although I do conduct from time to time. I’m in charge of the imperial orchestra.’

  Grosbeak raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘the philharmonic host.’

  This phrase struck me as being rather dismissive, and my initial assumption was that Grosbeak had no interest whatsoever in music. Yet plainly he was aware of the orchestra’s existence. Then I remembered Greylag’s report about the two men who’d turned up at the cake asking all sorts of questions. It sounded to me as if they were ‘taking stock’ of the orchestra, preparing an inventory so to speak, and vaguely I wondered if Grosbeak had anything to do with it.

  Meanwhile, the spotlight had turned on Brambling.

  ‘Financial matters are dealt with here at the counting house,’ declared Smew, ‘so if you have no objection I’ll leave you in Brambling’s care; and hope to see you afterwards for tea?’

  Evidently Smew believed he had done all he needed to do. He gave each of us a courteous nod, then strode off in the direction of the great library. Wryneck went with him, but I decided to stay and provide Brambling with some moral support. His chosen approach was seemingly one of openness.

  ‘Well, gentlemen,’ he began, ‘we’ve received your invoice and we’re prepared to offer an immediate deposit.’

  ‘Indeed?’ said Grosbeak.

  ‘The balance to be settled within seven days,’ Brambling added.

  Grosbeak conferred briefly with Gadwall and Merganser before replying.

  ‘This is not our normal way of doing business,’ he said. ‘Seven days is a long while to withhold such a large sum, especially when you’ve had twelve days already.’ He paused. ‘However, it so happens we have further matters to address which could arguably take another week. In consequenc
e we agree to accept your deposit. I presume it’s cash?’

  ‘Yes it is,’ replied Brambling, ‘so if you’d just care to step inside?’

  We filed into the counting house and Brambling led us to the iron-bound treasure chest.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said.

  He then made a bit of a performance out of finding the key, which he pretended to have lost on his person. I guessed that the idea of this jape was to lighten the general mood, but it failed to raise even a smile from the three creditors. Instead, they merely stood watching his antics with sober expressions on their faces. Finally he located the key and unlocked the chest.

  The hoard of sixpences, shillings and half-crowns certainly looked impressive as it gleamed in the fading afternoon light. I was therefore surprised by the collective reaction of Grosbeak, Gadwall and Merganser. The sound they uttered, apparently in unison, was difficult to describe. It was part guffaw, part smirk and part sneer; and was so unexpected that Brambling and I glanced at one another warily. Without invitation Grosbeak scooped up a handful of coins, examined them momentarily, and allowed them to trickle between his fingers.

  Then he turned to Brambling.

  ‘We can’t accept this,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Brambling.

  ‘It’s worthless.’

  ‘How can it be worthless?’ protested Brambling. ‘This is the imperial currency!’

  Grosbeak raised his hand.

  ‘I should correct myself,’ he said. ‘This money is no longer recognised as international exchange.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘For at least a decade.’

  ‘So we can’t use it to settle the debt?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Grosbeak. ‘There is only one valid means of payment nowadays.’

  He dipped into his pocket and produced a coin, which he held flat in the palm of his hand. It was identical to the ‘sixpence’ I’d received from Merganser.

  ‘We call this the anvil,’ Grosbeak announced, ‘although its proper designation is the “currency unit of the City of Scoffers”.’

  ‘Also known as CoS,’ I ventured.

  ‘Quite so,’ said Grosbeak.

  There was a brief hiatus as Brambling sank on to a chair. He was clearly shaken by this unheralded turn of events and needed to catch his breath.

  In the meantime, Merganser went over to the table and peered down at Brambling’s ledger. Then, slowly and deliberately, he began turning the pages. He was soon joined by Grosbeak, and the two of them spent several minutes scrutinising the contents.

  ‘Is this a full record of the empire’s financial affairs?’ asked Grosbeak.

  ‘Yes,’ Brambling replied, ‘it’s all there in the finest detail.’

  ‘Then you won’t mind if we borrow it to see if we can find a way out of this impasse?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Grosbeak, closing the ledger again. ‘I’ll send my men to collect it later.’

  Brambling nodded despondently.

  ‘Right,’ I said in my brightest tone, ‘now that’s settled we can all go and have some tea.’

  I bustled around and tried to make light of the entire matter, as though we officers-of-state were accustomed to dealing with such crises. Seizing Grosbeak by the arm I led him out into the open air; we were followed by Gadwall and Merganser, and quickly we set off towards the great library. Brambling came trailing along behind.

  When we entered the reading room we discovered that elaborate preparations had been made to ensure this ‘tea party’ was a success. It was too late in the season to furnish a spectacular sunset through the bay window. Nonetheless, the room looked quite resplendent. The chandeliers had been lit, the imperial flag hung from the ceiling, and the walls were decorated with garlands. Smew had dispensed with the ceremonial crown and was now wearing his lounge suit, presumably to make the guests feel more at home. Dotterel, Garganey and Whimbrel were standing around in relaxed poses, while Sanderling helped Shrike serve the tea and toasted soldiers.

  Smew was geniality itself.

  ‘Everything satisfactory?’ he asked, when we’d all assembled around him.

  ‘More or less,’ Grosbeak replied.

  ‘Then I must show you around the library.’

  There had been no real opportunity to explain the situation to Smew, but when I thought about it I realised it wasn’t particularly urgent. After all, he was under the impression that in the past half hour the imperial reserves had been reduced to nothing. The fact that they’d been rejected as worthless was hardly better news. For this reason it was probably wiser to let him carry on playing the host uninterrupted. He would doubtless learn the truth later.

  His intimate knowledge of the library was now coming to the fore. He obviously delighted in showing the three visitors around, occasionally lifting down odd volumes for them to look at more closely, and generally acclaiming the quality of the vast collection.

  ‘Who owns all these books?’ enquired Merganser at one point. ‘The citizens of Greater Fallowfields?’

  ‘No,’ Smew answered, ‘they belong to the emperor.’

  Grosbeak raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘the imperial truant.’

  ‘Truant?’ repeated Smew, visibly startled. ‘How so?’

  ‘Your esteemed emperor enrolled at our university last term,’ said Merganser. ‘He ceased attending lectures after only a few weeks and we haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘Did you try his board and lodgings?’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Grosbeak. ‘It seems he left without paying the rent.’

  With this stunning revelation ringing in our ears we resumed our tour of the library. Ostensibly the empire was disintegrating beneath our very feet, yet all we could do was wander along the shelves looking at books. In due course we arrived back in the reading room, where more tea was waiting to be served. By now Smew appeared to have gathered his thoughts.

  ‘This contract for the railway,’ he said. ‘When did the emperor sign it?’

  ‘During the first week of term,’ replied Grosbeak.

  ‘I see.’ Smew frowned. ‘Well, I can only apologise for His Majesty’s continued absence. I dare say there’s a perfectly simple explanation.’

  ‘Possibly,’ conceded Grosbeak.

  ‘In the meantime,’ Smew continued, ‘I very much hope the three of you aren’t planning on leaving us just yet?’

  ‘We intend to stay for at least another week,’ said Grosbeak.

  ‘Good,’ said Smew. ‘Now is there anything else I can do for you?’

  Grosbeak thought for a moment.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we would like to sample your cake.’

  Chapter 20

  A special concert was organised for the following evening, the guests of honour being Grosbeak, Merganser and Gadwall. It was all rather hastily arranged, and I suspected that Smew was trying to appease them. By now, of course, he’d been informed of the outstanding debt. He was clearly hoping to buy time, so it was imperative that I gave him my full backing. I went to see Greylag as soon as I learned of the plan, and told him we’d expect an exceptional performance. Quickly we agreed that the best policy was for the orchestra to play some variations on the imperial anthem, followed by Greylag’s recent overture.

  ‘Nothing experimental,’ I urged. ‘Not for these people.’

  ‘As you wish, sir,’ said Greylag, though it was evident he was disappointed. He had plainly moved on from ‘mere’ anthems and overtures.

  Rehearsals would be held during the afternoon, with the concert beginning at seven o’clock sharp. I helped out where I could; and while I was checking the seating schedule I happened to glance down at the orchestra. Once again I couldn’t help noticing the threadbare nature of their frock coats. We were supposed to be trying to impress the deputation from the City of Scoffers, yet the imperial orchestra was dressed in worn-out clothes! I decided that something must be done about i
t, and after some thought I headed over to the ministry of works. Maybe Dotterel would have a supply of spare outfits stored in some warehouse or other.

  To my surprise, I found him sitting in his office deep in conversation with Garganey. They didn’t take kindly to being interrupted.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dotterel, ‘what is it?’

  ‘Sorry to bother you,’ I said, ‘but I was wondering if you had any frock coats in the imperial livery?’

  ‘Why should I have?’

  ‘I just thought you might, that’s all.’

  Dotterel looked at Garganey and slowly shook his head. Then he addressed me again.

  ‘You want them for the orchestra, I suppose?’

  ‘Correct,’ I said.

  ‘Well, the answer is no,’ said Dotterel. ‘The orchestra is your responsibility, not mine; and to be quite frank you should have provided them with new coats long ago.’

  ‘Me?’ I retorted. ‘How could I provide them?’

  ‘You receive a stipend, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you have your solution,’ proclaimed Dotterel. ‘Go to a draper’s shop and buy some.’

  I puffed out my cheeks.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘right.’

  During the conversation Garganey had remained silent. Now I turned to him.

  ‘Just out of interest,’ I said, ‘where do the postmen get their uniforms?’

  ‘They’re supplied by the post office,’ he answered.

  I thanked them both for their time and bid them good-day.

  ‘Don’t forget tonight’s concert,’ I said as I departed.

  ‘No,’ said Dotterel, ‘we won’t.’

  I hurried back to the cake. Obviously I wouldn’t be able to acquire any new clothes before the performance, but I made a mental note to tackle the problem as soon as possible afterwards. Meanwhile, the lights over the orchestra pit would have to be kept dim.

  The hours were marching quickly by, and soon it was six thirty. I spoke to Greylag and he assured me that the orchestra was fully prepared.

  ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Well, good luck, Greylag, and I’ll see you later on.’