Magnus Mills - A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In

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.’

‘No, no,’ said Whimbrel. ‘I’ve got a bottle or two we can open.’

‘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.’

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.’