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

‘Agreed,’ said Wryneck.

The clock struck eleven.

‘Is that the time already?’ said Sanderling.

No one answered.

‘Maybe we should leave it until another day,’ I said. ‘Then we can all read the play at our leisure and come back next week fully prepared.’

‘Good idea,’ said Brambling.

‘Well, I suppose there’s no particular hurry,’ observed Smew, ‘just so long as everybody does their homework properly.’

‘We’ll do our best,’ said Garganey. ‘I presume I’ll be king again next time?’

‘If you like,’ said Smew.

For an instant I thought I saw the pair of them glance warily at one another across the table; but then I decided it was probably only my imagination. Nonetheless an awkward silence ensued, during which the rest of us began rising to our feet. Sanderling went over to the clock and stood gazing through the glass at its inner workings. He seemed slightly startled when all of a sudden the minute hand ticked forward by one degree.

‘Can we take these books with us?’ asked Whimbrel.

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Smew. ‘You’ll have to come to the great library and read them there.’

‘But I thought libraries were for borrowing books.’

‘It’s not a public lending library,’ Smew replied. ‘It’s the imperial library of the court of Greater Fallowfields. There’s an important difference.’

‘Sorry,’ said Whimbrel. ‘I’ll try to bear it in mind.’

Wryneck gathered together the books and handed them to Smew. Meanwhile, I headed out through the door and down the steps, thankful that the meeting was over for another week. I hadn’t got very far, however, when Brambling caught up with me.

‘Can I have a word?’ he said.

The counting house was tall and narrow and built from red brick. Brambling unlocked the front door and led me inside.

‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘Welcome to my domain.’

We were in a plainly decorated room with small windows and sparse furnishings. There was a marble floor, a desk and two chairs. In the corner stood an iron-bound treasure chest. A huge ledger lay on top of the desk. On the walls hung portraits of several previous emperors; but none, yet, of the latest incumbent.

‘Three words actually,’ said Brambling. ‘Fees, rents and disbursements.’

‘Do I owe some rent then?’ I enquired.

‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘Officers-of-state reside at the emperor’s expense.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘The reason I’ve invited you here is to discuss your stipend.’

‘Ah.’

‘I expect you’re curious to learn what it is, aren’t you?’

‘To tell you the truth I hadn’t really considered it.’

‘I’m surprised,’ remarked Brambling. ‘All the others have been here to claim theirs already.’

‘Even Whimbrel?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, he never said anything to me about it.’

‘There’s no reason why he should, is there?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘I suppose not.’

‘Anyway, please take a seat and we’ll look it up.’

We sat down opposite one another at the desk and Brambling opened the ledger. It was evidently a weighty tome because at his first attempt to turn its pages it slammed shut again noisily. The sound reverberated all around the counting house. Only when I reached over and helped from my side of the desk was Brambling able to open the ledger properly and find the place he required. I could see a series of printed columns with handwritten entries beside them.

‘Now then,’ said Brambling, running his finger down the page. ‘Principal Composer to the Imperial Court. According to my records the office pays a stipend of sixpence.’

‘Very generous,’ I said.

From where I sat I could clearly see the entries for all the other officers-of-state, including Brambling himself. Each was to receive a stipend of sixpence, just the same as me. Brambling must have known this beforehand and hence there had been no real need for him to ‘look it up’. I didn’t mention this, though, as I had no wish to quash Brambling’s pretensions. In his role as Chancellor of the Exchequer he dealt with all fees, rents and disbursements, and it was his privilege to conduct matters in the way he thought appropriate.

Carefully, he closed the ledger. Next he opened a drawer on his side of the desk and from it produced a tin money box. This, apparently, was locked. Brambling then proceeded to fumble in his pockets until eventually he found the key. Lastly he opened the lid and took out a sixpence, which he placed on the desk before me.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Do I need to sign for this?’

‘Of course not,’ replied Brambling. ‘Your office is one of trust.’

I took the sixpence and examined it casually.

‘Just one more question,’ I continued. ‘Is it sixpence a day or sixpence a week?’

At these words Brambling looked at me with complete astonishment. It was as if I had just queried a central tenet of his existence; or challenged the integrity of the chancellery; or maybe suggested that the counting house was built on shifting sands. For several long moments he stared at me silently across his desk. Then he stood up and walked around the room, glancing from time to time in my direction. Finally, he opened the door, went outside and peered in at me through the window.

After a while he came back.

‘Nobody’s ever asked me that before,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to find out.’

Brambling was still going through his ledger, page by page, in search of an answer, when I said goodbye and left him to it. I had decided to pay Greylag a surprise visit, so I strolled across the park with my sixpence in my pocket. It must have rained during the night because there were large puddles of water lying everywhere. I wondered vaguely how the weather affected Whimbrel’s nocturnal activities. After all, he could hardly study the skies when there were great rain clouds blocking his view. I remembered that prior to the cabinet meeting he’d mentioned something about ‘the astronomer’s bane’, but I hadn’t really paid much attention. Presumably this was what he’d been referring to.

I approached the cake and entered by the postern door. Over the past few days I’d discovered that apart from the main door there were also three fire exits and a small side entrance. This led all the way to the orchestra pit via a tiled passage. Even before I opened the door I could hear music playing, and once I was inside the building it resounded ever more loudly. As I expected, the orchestra was playing a variation on the imperial anthem. I’d heard this one before and it was already my favourite: a piece of music in which the melody seemed to go round and round even more frequently than usual, as if it was somehow being constantly folded into itself. Greylag had previously explained to me that this particular variation was known as a fugue. Furthermore, each different treatment had its own designated number. The one I could hear at present, apparently, was the sixth in the sequence.

During my brief tenure the musicians had learnt not to bother rising to their feet every time I put in an appearance. I’d made it clear that I preferred them to carry on as normal, and today was no exception. As I entered the pit, Greylag glanced in my direction, we exchanged nods and I headed straight for the podium. From somewhere or other he’d unearthed a proper conductor’s baton for me to use. I found it where I’d left it last time, lying on top of the podium rail, and for the next twenty minutes I enjoyed ‘leading’ my orchestra through the sixth variation.

Eventually, though, I gave Greylag the signal to stop, and after another few bars the music ceased.