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

‘What time would that be?’ enquired Brambling. ‘Roughly.’

‘About five o’clock,’ said Garganey.

‘Is that seven days a week?’

‘Six.’

As the discussion continued, I quietly wondered whether Garganey would be able to face a hearty breakfast at that time in the morning. Surely, the whole point of the postmen going out early was so that they could get some work behind them while building up a decent appetite. It struck me that Garganey’s proposition was bound to cause more problems than it solved. As far as I was concerned, interfering with a man’s breakfast went beyond the pale. I didn’t say anything, however. Garganey would have to find out for himself.

A trial period of three months was generally agreed, and I then expected deliberations to be swiftly concluded. Smew, though, had one more item for us to consider.

‘Now then,’ he said, ‘I know that it’s only the beginning of autumn and the twelve-day feast still seems a long way away. All the same, this is the time of year when we need to start thinking about some kind of courtly entertainment for the occasion. Sooner or later His Majesty is bound to send us an official reminder, but meanwhile it would be a great help if we could all at least mull over a few ideas.’

‘What about some dancing girls?’ suggested Sanderling.

Smew peered across the table at Sanderling as if he’d never noticed him before.

‘You were very quick off the mark,’ he said. ‘Dancing girls, eh? Well, that certainly rings a bell.’

From the ceiling there dangled a tasselled cord. Smew pulled it and an instant later a liveried attendant came into the room.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Ah, Shrike,’ said Smew. ‘Whatever happened to those dancing girls we used to have?’

‘They went away, sir.’

‘Why was that?’

‘They became great with child, sir.’

‘All of them?’

‘I’m afraid so, sir.’

‘Do we know. .?’

‘No, sir.’

‘I see.’ Smew furrowed his brow. ‘All right, Shrike. That will be all for now.’

The attendant nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. The rest of us sat in silence for several seconds, until eventually Garganey spoke. ‘Since when have we had liveried attendants at our beck and call?’

‘Actually, there’s only one of them,’ Smew replied. ‘Shrike has been helping me out as Assistant Librarian.’

‘Really?’ said Garganey. He appeared unimpressed.

‘It looks as though there won’t be any dancing girls,’ remarked Wryneck.

‘Indeed not,’ said Smew, ‘and to be honest they probably wouldn’t have been entirely suitable for a courtly entertainment. What I had in mind was some sort of performance in which we ourselves could participate.’

‘You mean a play, for instance?’ said Wryneck.

‘Correct,’ said Smew. ‘Obviously it would need to be one that accommodated all eight of us more or less equally. I’ve taken the liberty of bringing along an example that just might fit the bill.’ He reached for the textbooks which were stacked beside him and began handing them around. ‘Unfortunately there are only six copies available, so some of you will have to share.’

Whimbrel took one of the books and placed it between himself and me.

‘Ah, yes, I’ve heard of this,’ he said, examining the title page. ‘They all get killed at the end, don’t they?’

‘A few of them, not all,’ said Smew. ‘However, there is no need to concern ourselves with the details of the plot at this juncture. Instead, I thought perhaps we could simply read through one of the scenes in order to get a feel of the play. Also, we might get some idea as to who will be suited to what parts.’

‘It doesn’t look to be a very long play,’ observed Brambling.

‘That’s a point in its favour,’ said Smew. ‘The entire five acts only take about an hour and a half all told, which is quite a lot less than the average cabinet meeting. In fact, we could rehearse the play while we’re waiting for His Majesty to reappear.’

Dotterel had already begun flicking through his copy of the book. ‘Who’s going to play the king then?’ he enquired.

‘I was coming to that,’ Smew replied. ‘There’s a famous scene in the play involving a banquet, so I suggest that since we’re all sitting around this table we should give it a try, each of us taking turns to be different characters.’

During the ongoing discussions I’d been expecting an outburst from Garganey at any moment. After all, Smew had seized the helm again, just like on the previous Monday. I could tell from Garganey’s face that he had little enthusiasm for joining in with Smew’s project, but to my surprise he didn’t offer a word of objection. He merely sat at the table studying his copy of the book.

‘The scene in question is on page forty-three,’ said Smew. ‘Now all you need to know for the time being is that the king is the only person at the banquet who cannot see the ghost. Perhaps we could start by reading it silently to ourselves.’

We all obeyed.

Whimbrel, I soon discovered, had the habit of running his index finger along each line of print, word by word, as he read. Presumably he thought that I would read at precisely the same pace as him while we were sharing, whereas in truth I went fairly quickly and had to keep waiting until he moved his finger out of the way. Still, we managed somehow, reaching the end of the scene after only a few minutes. The first to finish, though, was Dotterel.

‘This ghost,’ he said. ‘Who is he, exactly?’

‘He’s a former friend of the king,’ answered Smew.

‘But he can’t see him?’

‘No.’

‘Right.’ Dotterel turned back to page forty-three and commenced reading the scene again.

In the meantime, Smew addressed the rest of us. ‘You’ll notice that one of the characters is a lady,’ he said. ‘To save unnecessary embarrassment I’ll take her part for now. Unless someone else wishes to volunteer, of course?’

Nobody did.

‘I’ll be the ghost,’ said Whimbrel.

‘I’ll be the king,’ said Garganey, ‘if nobody minds.’

‘And I’ll be the murderer,’ said Sanderling.

‘All right,’ said Smew. ‘Everyone else will be the noble guests. Now to begin with the king has to “mingle with society and play the humble host”, which means basically that he has to walk around the table greeting everybody. So, when you’re ready, Garganey.’

‘Just a second,’ Dotterel interjected. ‘Shouldn’t we move the emperor’s chair out of the way?’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Smew.

‘Well, the king says “the table’s full”.’

‘So?’

‘It can’t really be full when there’s an empty chair, can it?’

‘It won’t be empty for very long,’ said Smew, ‘because the ghost comes and sits in it.’

‘But you just said the king couldn’t see the ghost.’

‘Correct.’

‘So it’ll still look empty to the king.’

‘And whilst I’m walking around the table,’ added Garganey, ‘my chair’s going to be empty too.’

‘That’s two empty chairs,’ said Whimbrel.

‘All right!’ snapped Smew, closing his book and laying it on the table. ‘You’ve all made it quite clear you’re not interested in doing this play, so we won’t bother!’

‘On the contrary,’ said Dotterel. ‘I think it seems very profound on first reading. I’m definitely for carrying on.’

‘Same here,’ said Brambling.

‘Why don’t we simply pretend that the emperor’s chair isn’t there?’ I suggested. ‘After all, we’re hardly entitled to move it out of the way.’

One or two people murmured their assent.

‘Sounds like a reasonable compromise,’ said Smew. ‘Everyone agreed?’