A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked In Read online

  A Cruel Bird Came to

  the Nest and Looked In

  Magnus Mills

  for Sue

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  The author would like to thank

  A Note on the Author

  By the Same Author

  Chapter 1

  As the clock struck ten, Smew opened the register.

  ‘Let us begin,’ he said. ‘Chancellor of the Exchequer?’

  ‘Present,’ said Brambling.

  ‘Postmaster General?’

  ‘Present,’ said Garganey.

  ‘Astronomer Royal?’

  ‘Here,’ said Whimbrel.

  ‘Present,’ said Smew.

  ‘Present,’ said Whimbrel.

  ‘Comptroller for the Admiralty?’

  ‘Present,’ said Sanderling.

  ‘Surveyor of the Imperial Works?’

  ‘Present,’ said Dotterel.

  ‘Pellitory-of-the-Wall?’

  ‘Present,’ said Wryneck.

  ‘Principal Composer to the Imperial Court?’

  ‘Present,’ I said.

  ‘His Exalted Highness, the Majestic Emperor of the Realms, Dominions, Colonies and Commonwealth of Greater Fallowfields?’

  Smew waited but there was no response. We were seated at a round table, with nine chairs spaced evenly apart. One of the chairs was larger and better-upholstered than the others. It was empty. Smew peered at the unoccupied place for a few moments. ‘Absent,’ he said, putting a cross in the register.

  From my position opposite Smew I could see the register upside down. I noticed that this cross was the latest in a long succession of crosses; the rest of us had all received ticks.

  There was one further entry to make.

  ‘Librarian-in-Chief?’ said Smew.

  He inclined his head slightly to acknowledge his own presence, before adding a final tick. Closing the register, he glanced over at the clock.

  ‘We’ll wait for a quarter of an hour,’ he announced.

  So we remained there in silence as fifteen minutes marched slowly by. On my left sat Whimbrel; then came Sanderling, Garganey, the empty chair, Wryneck, Smew, Dotterel and Brambling. On the walls around us hung portraits of several previous emperors; but none, yet, of the new incumbent. The clock stood in the corner of the room. A tasselled cord dangled from the ceiling. Lying on the table were our blank notepads and our pencils. There was nothing else.

  After a while Whimbrel began passing the time by drawing circles on his pad, but he ceased when Smew gave him a stern look. Respite came only when the clock chimed the quarter hour. At once the mood lightened considerably.

  ‘Well, now,’ said Smew. ‘May I suggest we adjourn the meeting? After all, in the absence of His Highness there is very little for us to discuss.’

  ‘Can we assume that this absence is merely temporary?’ enquired Wryneck.

  ‘Without doubt,’ replied Smew. ‘A brief hiatus in the affairs of state; nothing more.’

  ‘Seconded then,’ said Wryneck.

  ‘Carried,’ said Smew.

  The two of them conferred for a short while, then Smew looked across at me and asked, ‘Do you know where the cake is?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I took a walk in that direction yesterday afternoon, and again during the evening.’

  ‘Met your troops yet?’

  ‘No. Not yet.’

  ‘In due course, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’

  Over to my left I thought I sensed Garganey stirring slightly, but he made no comment.

  ‘All done?’ said Wryneck, gathering up his notepad and pencil.

  This was taken as a signal that the meeting was over. Soon we were all rising to our feet.

  ‘Cabinet resumes next Monday at ten o’clock,’ Smew informed us as we dispersed.

  I headed out through the door and down the steps, thankful that a conclusion had been reached so quickly. I hadn’t got very far, though, when Garganey caught up with me. ‘Can I have a word?’ he said.

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘I was just wondering if you kept your card?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m carrying it with me.’

  From my inside pocket I produced a large envelope bearing the words: ON HIS MAJESTY'S IMPERIAL SERVICE.

  I handed it to Garganey.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘What I’m actually interested in is the postmark. I’ve only recently taken over as Postmaster General and I’ve begun studying the workings of the penny post.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were new,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Garganey. ‘I’ve been in office a comparatively short time.’ He examined the postmark closely. ‘Ah, thought so.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you remember when this arrived?’

  ‘The day before yesterday,’ I said. ‘I came straight to court.’

  ‘Well, it was posted more than three weeks ago.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘See for yourself.’

  Garganey handed back the envelope and I looked at the postmark. Sure enough, it was dated almost a month previously.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I never noticed.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said. ‘Obviously the postmen have been shirking some of their obligations.’

  ‘So it appears.’

  ‘I’ll have to see what can be done.’

  I returned the envelope to my pocket.

  ‘Right,’ I said, preparing to move on. ‘I’ll bid you good-day then.’

  Garganey stood staring distractedly into the distance. He plainly had something further on his mind.

  Then he said, ‘Smew’s got a bit of a cheek, hasn’t he?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Taking over the meeting the way he did.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I suppose somebody had to.’

  ‘That’s twice in two weeks.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Then there was all that questioning you about the cake: it’s none of his damned business!’

  ‘To tell the truth,’ I said, ‘I wasn’t really bothered.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ said Garganey. ‘Smew is Librarian-in-Chief: he holds no other title. Simply because he’s been here the longest doesn’t authorise him to lord it over the rest of us. We’re all officers of the empire and we’re all equal in the hierarchy. It’s not up to him to conduct cabinet meetings.’

  ‘Well, hopefully His Majesty will be back next week,’ I ventured. ‘By the way, do we know where he is, exactly?’

  ‘No,’ said Garganey. ‘The formal explanation is “temporarily absent”, which could of course mean anything.’

  While we were talking I spotted Whimbrel go wandering towards the observatory. He’d asked me earlier if I’d like to go up and have a look around the place, so after making my excuses to Garganey I set off in pursuit.

  The observatory stood in some parkland at th
e top of a grassy hill, slightly isolated from the rest of the royal court. The approach was via a long, curving path followed by a steep flight of steps. When I arrived at the door I found Whimbrel fumbling with his keys.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ he said, as I joined him. ‘Glad you could come. I saw you talking to Garganey but I didn’t want to interrupt.’

  ‘Did you know he was a recent arrival as well?’ I enquired.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ answered Whimbrel. ‘That makes three of us then.’

  He found the correct key and unlocked the door. Once inside, we climbed an iron staircase until we came at last to a large octagonal room with tall, narrow windows.

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

  On a table were some huge charts, all lying on top of one another in complete disarray. Closer inspection revealed that they were maps of the stars.

  ‘These should be useful,’ I remarked.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Whimbrel. ‘Frankly, I’ve no idea how I’d manage without them. All the stars look identical to me.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll learn them after a while,’ I said. ‘Fortunately, they’re all fixed in their constellations, so once you know them you probably won’t forget.’

  I went to a window and gazed out.

  ‘They’re all fixed, are they?’ said Whimbrel. ‘Well, that’s definitely a fact worth knowing. Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ I replied. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I come back this evening and we can have a proper look?’

  ‘If you really don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘That would be most helpful.’

  ‘Mind you,’ I said, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t got a telescope.’

  ‘Oh, there is a telescope,’ said Whimbrel. ‘It’s up on the roof.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Doesn’t work though.’

  ‘It must do,’ I said. ‘You’re the Astronomer Royal.’

  ‘I assure you it doesn’t.’

  ‘Show me.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Whimbrel, ‘if you insist.’

  At the top of the staircase was a ladder that went up through an aperture in the ceiling. Whimbrel led the way and a minute later we opened a tiny door to emerge on to the flat roof of the building. There, perched on a stone pillar, was a telescope. It appeared to be a substantial piece of equipment, housed in a thick metal casing and painted bright blue. When I looked into the eyepiece, however, I could see nothing; nor would the telescope move when I tried to alter its angle. Instead, it remained locked in the same position, aimed at a point somewhere below the horizon. As such, it was entirely unsuitable for the purposes of astronomy.

  ‘See what I mean?’ said Whimbrel.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Can’t you get anything done about it?’

  ‘I don’t really know who to ask.’

  ‘Why don’t you try Dotterel? He’s in charge of all the artisans: he told me that himself. Surely he’ll know what to do.’

  ‘Good idea. Yes, I’ll have to ask him next time I see him.’

  I laid my hand flat on the telescope.

  ‘This must have had at least ten coats of paint,’ I said.

  ‘Not recently,’ said Whimbrel.

  ‘No,’ I agreed. ‘Not recently.’

  ‘It must be to protect it from the weather.’

  We both looked up at the sky, which was pale and colourless. Autumn was clearly drawing near.

  ‘I wonder what I’m supposed to do on cloudy evenings,’ said Whimbrel. ‘I won’t be able to perform my duties properly if I can’t see anything.’

  ‘What are your duties,’ I enquired, ‘in a nutshell?’

  ‘Not sure really,’ he answered. ‘As far as I know there aren’t any definitive rules.’

  ‘Maybe you’re expected simply to contemplate the firmament,’ I suggested. ‘A sort of celestial night watchman.’

  ‘You make it sound like a holiday job,’ said Whimbrel.

  ‘No, no,’ I said, ‘I’m fully aware that we all enjoy highly exalted posts. Some might even call us privileged to be as close as we are to the emperor. All the same I can’t help speculating whether our roles aren’t merely ceremonial. I mean to say, exactly how seriously are we meant to take them?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I’ve received no guidance on the matter.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘I understand it’s customary in the empire to grant positions of high office to people who know little about their subject; in my case the custom is being maintained to the letter.’

  ‘Same here,’ I said. ‘I’ve just been appointed Principal Composer to the Imperial Court, yet all I know about music theory is what I’ve taught myself from books.’

  ‘That’s better than nothing,’ said Whimbrel.

  ‘Only marginally,’ I replied.

  He dwelt on this for a while, and then asked, ‘What do you make of the others?’

  ‘In the cabinet?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They’re certainly a mixed bunch,’ I said. ‘The only one I’ve spoken to at any length so far is Garganey, and he seems to be very fastidious about his work. He’s already begun an investigation into the penny post to see if he can get it operating more efficiently.’

  ‘He’ll be lucky,’ said Whimbrel. ‘An inefficient postal system is another of those unwavering imperial customs. What always confounds me is how items of mail come to be lost in the post.’

  ‘Don’t ask me.’

  ‘How can a physical entity disappear inside an abstract entity?’

  ‘That remains one of the great imponderable questions.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘To be fair, though, most lost items do turn up after a while. Oh, by the way, talking about items of mail, did you keep your card?’

  ‘Indeed I did!’ exclaimed Whimbrel. ‘In fact I must show you. Come on! Follow me!’

  We abandoned the telescope and went back down into the observatory. He indicated a picture frame on the wall. Displayed inside was a card similar to the one I’d received two days ago. The wording was slightly different to mine. It read:

  BY COMMAND OF

  HIS EXALTED HIGHNESS

  THE MAJESTIC EMPEROR OF THE REALMS, DOMINIONS, COLONIES AND COMMONWEALTH

  OF

  GREATER FALLOWFIELDS

  YOU ARE SUMMONED FORTHWITH

  TO THE

  IMPERIAL COURT

  WHERE YOU WILL ASSUME THE OFFICE OF

  ASTRONOMER ROYAL.

  The picture frame had been finished in gold, which perfectly matched the ornate lettering on the card.

  ‘Very smart,’ I said. ‘Maybe I should get mine framed as well.’

  ‘It makes you realise the responsibility bestowed on us,’ said Whimbrel. ‘We’re part of an elite cohort.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘A motley one, nevertheless,’ he continued. ‘Whoever would have guessed that the imperial cabinet included an astronomer? Or even a composer?’

  ‘Actually, I think it’s all rather neatly balanced,’ I said. ‘Not too much emphasis on any particular aspect of life.’

  ‘Good point.’

  ‘Furthermore, you’ll notice that there’s absolutely no kind of spiritual, theological or pastoral representative.’

  ‘Thank God,’ remarked Whimbrel.

  Chapter 2

  What I really wanted was to have the cake to myself. When I approached, however, I could hear music playing. This told me I would not be alone. I stopped and listened. They were rehearsing the imperial anthem again, just as they had been on the previous day. Casually, I wondered whether this was the only tune they knew; then I told myself not to be so churlish. Such an attitude would hardly help matters, especially at this early stage. Despite being their superior, I had to remember that I was utterly dependent on them, at least for the time being. Therefore, like any good commander, I should start by trying to learn from my subordinates. With these thoughts
in mind I advanced once more towards my destination.

  The cake was probably the most famous landmark in all of Fallowfields. People were known to journey from the provinces simply to gaze upon its exquisite proportions. What a sight it was! Situated amongst the trees at the edge of the royal park, it looked almost good enough to eat. The cake was a perfectly round building with smooth yellow walls rising to a creamy-white domed roof. A veritable essay in the imperial style, it was apparently at its most splendid when bathed in sunshine during long, languid, summer afternoons. Indeed, the walls were of such a rich hue that the more rustic visitors firmly believed they were made from marzipan.

  The truth was hardly less exotic. Constructed in the days when the empire was at its zenith, the cake was built from a very rare kind of stone, quarried to specification in a faraway land and ferried home in ships. It took twenty-three years to carry out the work, from design to completion.

  I paused at the door and listened. The music I could hear was even louder than before. The imperial anthem, having galloped at full pelt to the end of its glorious refrain, now returned again to the beginning of the verse. And so it went on: verse and refrain, verse and refrain, seemingly for ever and ever.

  The door was massive, and made from oak. Above it was a cast-iron fanlight. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. The music ceased. I pulled the door to and the music resumed, a little raggedly at first, but quickly regaining its former unison, taking up the anthem at the point where it had broken off.

  I repeated the exercise, pushing the door open and causing the music to stop, then closing it once more. As the music started yet again I sensed I could not keep on interrupting them like this. On the other hand, I had no intention of waiting meekly outside. Accordingly, I took a deep breath, swung the door open and marched in.

  ‘Carry on!’ I ordered, in a breezy manner.

  The imperial anthem had already begun grinding to a halt for a third time, but my confident instruction was enough to set it going again. I saw that I had entered a large auditorium. Down below me sat an orchestra about ninety strong, arrayed in a half-circle before an empty podium.