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

‘You know Smew was wrong?’ he said. ‘The king was the only person who could see the ghost, not the other way round.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘and he wasn’t a king, he was a usurper.’

‘Smew’s judgement is far from perfect.’

‘What about the railway?’ I said. ‘Do you think he’s wrong about that too?’

‘Entirely wrong,’ replied Dotterel. ‘You can’t stop progress.’

He took a last look at the crown, then wished me good evening and departed. After that I spent quite some time moping around the library while I pondered the situation. Privately I hoped Dotterel’s assessment was incorrect, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t.

By the following day the railway had become public knowledge. As a matter of fact it was quickly turning into a tourist attraction. The first I knew of it was when I approached the park and saw streams of people heading eastward. I’d planned to call in on Greylag and tell him my intentions for achieving his freedom from bondage. In view of the roaming hordes, however, I decided to find out the cause of all the fuss. Besides which, on second thoughts it seemed a shame to raise Greylag’s hopes too early. Far better to surprise him with some good news later. With this in mind I bypassed the cake and joined the milling crowd.

It was soon obvious where we were all going. We took the same route to the edge of the capital as I had the day before. Ultimately we came to the railway, which now had a brand-new platform running alongside it. Once again the work had been completed at a remarkable speed. This was something I’d come to expect just lately. What I didn’t anticipate, however, was the total absence of a train. Gadwall and his men had left the place deserted. The only draw for sightseers was an empty platform, a pair of buffers, and a set of iron rails diminishing into the distance.

My attention was caught by a noticeboard at the far end of the platform. On closer inspection I found that it displayed a timetable for the forthcoming railway service. Then, to my irritation, I saw that all the arrivals and departures were listed in ‘local time’.

The effrontery of these people! Not only had they built a railway without due consultation, but now they were suggesting that the time in Greater Fallowfields was merely ‘local’. This implied that the time elsewhere was more important! Clearly, they hadn’t allowed for the recent adjustments we’d been making to our clocks, nor did they appear the slightest bit interested.

No less disquieting was the series of letters printed in the right-hand column of the timetable. These letters represented the scheduled destination for every train, and in each case they were identical: CoS.

As I stood gazing at the noticeboard I reflected that Gadwall and his companions were not entirely to blame for the advent of the railway. Our uncrowned emperor had played his part too. Presumably he’d signed the order as some sort of student prank while he was far away at university. No wonder he was reluctant to return home and face the music! Recently a number of other theories had been put forward to excuse his continued absence. Prevalent among these was the suggestion that he was probably studying hard for his exams. This struck me as spurious to say the least: it was a historical fact that the young emperors seldom returned with any kind of qualification.

Sanderling, of course, had a far simpler explanation. He remained convinced that it was all to do with the dancing girls who’d suddenly vanished from court. He mentioned them almost every time I saw him; or else the dancing girls from the Maypole; or the dancing girls he’d heard about from various marooned admirals with whom he was acquainted. Poor Sanderling! He lived in a world of self-delusion. He assumed there were dancing girls hidden around every corner, but he was yet to meet them.

I was still contemplating all this when I became aware of a swell of expectation passing through the crowd. Many people were now lining the railway on either side, and as I listened I heard a familiar shrill piping sound. It was only faint at first, but gradually it grew louder. I leaned over the edge of the platform and peered down the track. Sure enough, in the distance I saw a dark plume of smoke. Below it loomed the approaching train. The smoke was rising in puffs, and with each puff the engine panted as though labouring under a great weight. Evidently it was slowing down at the end of a long journey: I could hear the iron wheels grinding on the rails; and as the noise grew louder the onlookers began chattering more loudly too. A bell started clanging. The formidable engine was now bearing down upon the multitude, causing those standing nearest the track to step back a pace. Hence a wobbly line of people marked the progress of the train. The shrill whistle was repeated. Then the brakes squealed and the puffing ceased. The engine drew alongside the platform and halted. Attached behind it were half a dozen windowless carriages. There were ventilation slits above the sliding doors, and one by one these doors began to open. The first to emerge was Gadwall. He was followed by a number of his men in their plain olive drab uniforms. The assembled spectators had long since fallen silent; meanwhile the engine continued to hiss and groan. Gadwall looked down the platform and saw me in my dandy coat.

‘Aha,’ he said, ‘an imperial reception.’

The majority of those present were commoners. They’d taken little notice of me during the rush to see the new railway, and I’d been more or less swept along in their wake. I’d literally become one of the herd, despite my distinguished appearance. This was typical of the general public when they turned out for a popular event. They only saw what they wanted to see. They’d have been quite unaware if the emperor himself was standing in their midst, let alone an officer-of-state, such was their single-minded fervour.

Now, however, they seemed completely overawed by the sight of the newcomers, and it required someone of my calibre to take the reins. Unfortunately, I was constrained by the cabinet’s recent injunction. We had agreed unanimously not to make any sort of approach to the railwaymen. My present visit was in a strictly personal capacity and therefore I needed to maintain a low profile.

A brief hiatus ensued, during which Gadwall looked at me and I looked at him. Then suddenly there was a nearby kerfuffle. I glanced around and saw Gallinule advancing through the throng in his finest crimson apparel. Without so much as a nod in my direction he spoke directly to Gadwall.

‘Gallinule at your service,’ he said. ‘May we introduce our company?’

In a veritable coup de théâtre he then proceeded to introduce Ortolan, Pukeka, Rosella, Mitteria, Chiurlo and Penduline. (Mestolone was nowhere to be seen.)

Gadwall regarded the entourage in solemn silence for several moments. They were attired in all manner of outlandish clothing, yet his face betrayed neither astonishment nor curiosity.

‘What is your business?’ he enquired.

‘The world, sir, is our business,’ replied Gallinule.

‘Then you may wish to attend one of our pavilions,’ said Gadwall. ‘As you can see, preparations are already under way.’

Indeed, the preparations Gadwall referred to were going on apace. Within minutes of arriving the men in olive drab had begun unloading the carriages. In a highly organised operation out came boxes, crates and large bundles of fabric. Very soon a site had been cleared and rows of bell tents erected. These appeared to be for purposes of accommodation, but beyond them some much larger tents were gradually being hoisted into position.

A good part of the crowd had started slowly to disperse, having evidently lost interest after the train’s glorious arrival. A substantial number remained, however, and they seemed almost mesmerised by the frenetic activity they were witnessing. Such industriousness was seldom seen in Greater Fallowfields, and for some it was plainly a fascinating spectacle. Gallinule and his colleagues had soon embarked on a guided tour of the new encampment. In the meantime I decided to take the opportunity to slip quietly away. Privately I suspected Gallinule was on the verge of becoming unstuck. It was obvious to me that he’d only come along to test the market for theatre tickets. Somehow, though, he’d managed to convince Gadwall that he was a man of local importance; and he was now being entertained accordingly. I had no doubt that his acting abilities would enable him to wriggle out of any impending situation, but I didn’t want to be involved.