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

‘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.’

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 it, 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.’

The musicians were giving their instruments a final inspection; I left them to it and took up my position at the front door. A full house was expected, word having spread about the interest expressed by the visitors. Punctual as ever, Grosbeak, Merganser and Gadwall arrived at ten to seven, wearing appropriate dress uniform. This comprised the usual olive drab, but with the addition of creamy-white ornamental braiding. The imperial officers-of-state all turned up in good time, attired in their finest dandy coats. They were followed by select members of the public, assorted postmen and artisans and then, finally, the troupe of strolling players. Gallinule led the latter inside with his usual flourish. I noticed once again that Mestolone was absent from their company. This was the second occasion to my knowledge that he’d steered clear of the newcomers, and I began to surmise that he wasn’t particularly keen on them. Still, there was no time to dwell further on the matter. It was a minute to seven so I made my way to my seat.

I’d taken care to reserve a place where I could keep an eye on our three distinguished guests. I was especially interested to see how they would react to the performance; Whimbrel’s account of Gallinule’s play was still fresh in my mind. According to Whimbrel, two of these men in olive drab had watched the entire tragedy with apparent detachment. As Greylag stepped on to the podium, I pondered whether his wonderful music would get through to Grosbeak, Merganser and Gadwall.

We were to begin with the fifth, sixth and seventh variations on the imperial anthem. I considered these to be the most stirring of Greylag’s treatments and had requested them specifically. With ninety-eight musicians at his disposal we could certainly expect some fireworks from Greylag.

The response of the audience in general was most encouraging. The moment Greylag raised his baton a great hush descended. Then they sat mesmerised as the orchestra got into its stride. The standard, as ever, was first class. After a few minutes I looked sidelong at the three ‘scoffers’. Sure enough, they were all sitting expressionless with their arms folded. Perhaps, I concluded, the imperial anthem meant nothing to them. Admittedly, they joined in the applause when the three variations were finished, but all the same I hoped they would show a little more enthusiasm for Greylag’s overture, which was due to follow.

Another member of the audience was Hobby the confectioner. He was sitting fairly near to Grosbeak, Merganser and Gadwall, and was clearly enjoying himself. He hurrahed loudly at the end of each piece of music, and when the overture began he could be heard tapping his foot. Unfortunately, he had the habit of coughing during quiet passages. Not only that, but he made no attempt to do it discreetly: instead he seemed to make a performance out of each cough, producing a handkerchief and disgorging himself with gusto. It was during one such bout of coughing that I noticed Grosbeak looking across at Hobby. Next moment he gave a signal and three men in olive drab uniforms emerged from the shadows. They approached Hobby and spoke to him in lowered voices before leading him outside. He didn’t come back; and subsequently there was no more coughing in the auditorium.

The overture had now reached its famous crescendo. A cheer rose up when the lone horn appeared and played its mournful notes. Then the entire orchestra came crashing back and the music charged to its tremendous finale. The concert was undoubtedly a triumph: the audience responded tumultuously. Even Grosbeak, Merganser and Gadwall were seemingly engaged at last, nodding to one another as they added to the applause. I looked over to Smew: he was smiling with evident satisfaction.