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

‘Well, I know a couple of constellations to start you off,’ I said. ‘How about if I point them out and then you can check them against the chart tomorrow in daylight?’

Whimbrel agreed to my proposal and we went up the ladder to the roof. When we emerged through the tiny door we were confronted once again by the defunct telescope.

‘Incidentally,’ said Whimbrel, ‘I had a word with Dotterel this afternoon.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘He said he couldn’t help.’

‘Why not?’ I demanded. ‘He’s supposed to be in charge of all the artisans: he told me that himself.’

‘Yes, he told me that as well,’ said Whimbrel. ‘Nevertheless, he said he had nobody on his books who knew about telescopes.’

‘I see.’

‘There’s more,’ confided Whimbrel, speaking more quietly now. ‘According to Dotterel, all offices of state are separate bodies and should have no involvement with one another.’

‘Really?’

‘He was quite insistent on the matter. As far as Dotterel is concerned his only obligation is to the emperor himself.’

‘Well, that’s fair enough,’ I said. ‘Clearly, his loyalties lie in the right direction.’

‘Of course,’ said Whimbrel. ‘Service to the empire is paramount. Even so, it seems a great shame that he’s apparently ruled out any form of co-operation between departments.’

Privately, I concurred with Whimbrel. I could see little to be gained, however, from openly taking sides against Dotterel. Admittedly, I had found his boasts about being in charge of all the artisans irritating to say the least. It struck me that such claims required further testing; hence, for the time being I would continue to give Dotterel the benefit of the doubt. Hopefully, Whimbrel could be persuaded to forget the entire episode.

‘Right then,’ I said, glancing up at the sky. ‘I think it’s probably best to begin with the Plough.’

The seven stars in question were easily recognisable. They appeared to have been placed there for the very purpose of tutoring Whimbrel in the basics of astronomy. Dutifully he wrote the word ‘plough’ on his notepad; then he stood gazing at the formation as if trying to fix it in his memory. Whimbrel’s disclosure that he knew little about his subject was obviously an understatement. Idly, I pondered what might happen if I told him that the sky was an immense heavenly vault which lay resting on the earth’s rim? He’d most likely believe me and copy my description on to his notepad. The outcome of such a jape, I quickly realised, could be disastrous, especially if the assertion went on to win imperial approval. After all, Whimbrel was the Astronomer Royal. It was not a role to be toyed with, and consequently I decided only to relate a few, indisputable facts. The rest he would have to learn on his own.

Once he’d mastered the Plough I was able to show him how to identify the Pole Star.

‘Then you’ll know where north is,’ I explained.

‘Why do I need to know that?’ Whimbrel enquired.

‘Believe me, it’s important,’ I said. ‘Besides, someone might ask you.’

‘Who?’

‘Someone who wants to go there.’

‘You mean by ship?’

‘Yes, possibly, or even overland.’

‘Who, though?’

Whimbrel was evidently unimpressed by the whole notion of ‘the north’.

‘All right,’ I said, changing tack. ‘What if the emperor asks you where north is? What will you do then?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Whimbrel, ‘I never thought of that.’

‘He could ask you anything. It’s quite possible he might turn up here at the observatory and demand a guided tour. Just because he’s missed a few cabinet meetings doesn’t necessarily mean he’s entirely indisposed.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ conceded Whimbrel. ‘All the same, it’s a little odd that nobody’s seen him lately.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed, ‘very odd.’

‘So you think he’s gone off travelling in the north, do you?’

‘No, no,’ I said. ‘That was a hypothetical example. For all we know he could still be here at court.’

‘All they’re saying is he’s “temporarily absent”.’

‘Who are “they”?’ I asked.

‘You know,’ said Whimbrel. ‘Officialdom.’

‘But we’re officialdom,’ I said. ‘Me, you and the other six officers-of-state. There’s no one else.’

Whimbrel made no further comment, and instead stood in silence as if contemplating for the very first time the full weight of his responsibilities. The evening had passed quickly, and as we watched we began to witness the lamps being turned down in the royal quarter. From here on the observatory roof we could see across the park to the great library, the general post office, the admiralty building, the counting house and the ministry of works. They were mostly in darkness now, with only the occasional glimmer of light remaining here and there. I noticed that the cake, too, was unlit. Presumably, this meant the music had stopped at last.

‘I think that’s enough for one day,’ I said, so we made our way back down the iron ladder.

‘Have you heard about these talks that Smew gives once a fortnight?’ said Whimbrel.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘What are they about?’

‘The history of the empire, apparently. We’re supposed to go to the reading room of the great library if we’re interested: every other Wednesday afternoon at three o’clock.’

‘Oh, well, I might have a look in,’ I said. ‘They could be quite informative.’

‘I don’t like history,’ said Whimbrel. ‘It’s boring.’

‘It depends how it’s presented,’ I countered. ‘Why don’t you come along and give it a try?’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘If you’re going, I’ll go.’

Before leaving I happened to glance out of the window one last time.

‘Now there’s a sight to behold,’ I said. ‘Look at Jupiter.’

Whimbrel joined me at the window and together we admired Jupiter’s bright presence high in the southern sky.

‘Marvellous,’ he said. ‘Now I must write that down straight away. Where’s my notepad?’

Whimbrel had mislaid it somewhere. He was still conducting a search when I said goodnight and departed. I was coming through the door at the bottom of the stairway when I heard him call down from above.

‘Did you say Neptune?’

‘No,’ I called back. ‘Jupiter.’

‘Ah yes, Jupiter. Goodnight then.’

‘Goodnight.’

It occurred to me that this wasn’t actually ‘goodnight’ for Whimbrel: rather, it was only the beginning of his working day. A long and lonely vigil lay ahead.

For my part, I intended to take advantage of the lateness of the hour and catch up on some much-needed piano practice. This was necessary, I’d concluded, if I was to fulfil my duties correctly. After all, who’d ever heard of a composer who couldn’t play anything?

The cake reared out of the gloom. I entered via the main door and wandered down into the orchestra pit, where I was pleased to see a light glowing dimly over the piano. All the other instruments, I noticed, had been tidied away in their cases. I turned the light up slightly, then sat down and played the chord of G major a few times, just to get started. Next I went through a series of major and minor scales, arpeggios and broken chords. These all went fine until I attempted to play some major scales in contrary motion. As usual I got stuck halfway and had to begin again. When I got stuck for a third time I gave up and sat there striking random notes. This reminded me that I ought to find some proper pieces of music to try. Maybe I should consult with Greylag on the matter the next day. I was about to resume the minor scales when I heard a quiet murmur coming from somewhere behind me. I looked around and saw nothing, but when I turned the light up further I realised there were figures lurking at the back of the auditorium.