A Cruel Bird Came to the Nest and Looked - By Magnus Mills Page 0,47
the Maypole where the lights would be glowing and the log fire roaring. Indeed, the place was thronging when I passed it by. The twelve-day feast was almost upon us and the people were clearly getting in the mood. Nevertheless, I had a more important matter on my mind. The pleasures of the Maypole would have to wait.
I wanted to look into this question of Greylag’s freedom, so I went to the library and perused the bookshelves. Smew’s revelation that Shrike had been raised to a commoner was encouraging, but actually I thought Greylag deserved better. Eventually I found what I was seeking: the correct term in Greylag’s case was ‘manumission’. According to the records, a serf granted manumission would become a freeman, a step above mere commoners in the feudal system. This, I decided, was what I should try and strive towards.
I drifted into the reading room and noticed that Smew had left his crown unattended on the desk by the bay window. I picked it up and glanced inside the rim. It came as no surprise to see the letters CoS stamped there.
‘Probably an import,’ said a voice behind me.
I turned to see Dotterel standing in the doorway.
‘A cheap one at that,’ I remarked.
‘I expect it came in from the east,’ he said. ‘Not directly, though. It most likely found its way here via the colonies.’
The crown felt tinny and insubstantial in my hands. Casually I tossed it over to Dotterel.
‘Rather careless of Smew to leave it lying around,’ he said. ‘I’ve a good mind to confiscate it.’
‘On what grounds?’ I asked.
‘On the grounds that I’m custodian of the imperial artefacts,’ he said. ‘In the last resort I’m responsible for the upkeep of this crown: that’s why it was in the royal workshop in the first place.’
He began buffing up the crown with his handkerchief.
‘We had to straighten all the prongs,’ he continued, ‘and apply a new coat of gold paint. In terms of time spent it would have been much cheaper to get a replacement.’
‘Couldn’t they make a new one,’ I suggested, ‘in the workshop?’
Dotterel shook his head. ‘We don’t make anything in this country,’ he said. ‘Not any more. We just carry out repairs.’
He put the gleaming crown back on the desk.
‘That’s better,’ he said.
‘Did you come here especially to give it a polish?’ I enquired.
‘Actually, no,’ said Dotterel. ‘I wanted to return this.’
He reached into his pocket and produced a textbook.
‘It’s the play we’ve been rehearsing,’ he explained. ‘I won’t need it now.’
He went to the bookshelves and put it back with the other copies.
‘You know Smew was wrong?’ he said. ‘The king was the only person who could see the ghost, not the other way round.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘and he wasn’t a king, he was a usurper.’
‘Smew’s judgement is far from perfect.’
‘What about the railway?’ I said. ‘Do you think he’s wrong about that too?’
He took a last look at the crown, then wished me good evening and departed. After that I spent quite some time moping around the library while I pondered the situation. Privately I hoped Dotterel’s assessment was incorrect, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t.
By the following day the railway had become public knowledge. As a matter of fact it was quickly turning into a tourist attraction. The first I knew of it was when I approached the park and saw streams of people heading eastward. I’d planned to call in on Greylag and tell him my intentions for achieving his freedom from bondage. In view of the roaming hordes, however, I decided to find out the cause of all the fuss. Besides which, on second thoughts it seemed a shame to raise Greylag’s hopes too early. Far better to surprise him with some good news later. With this in mind I bypassed the cake and joined the milling crowd.
It was soon obvious where we were all going. We took the same route to the edge of the capital as I had the day before. Ultimately we came to the railway, which now had a brand-new platform running alongside it. Once again the work had been completed at a remarkable speed. This was something I’d come to expect just lately. What I didn’t anticipate, however, was the total absence of a train. Gadwall and his men had left the place deserted. The only draw for sightseers was an empty platform, a pair of buffers, and a set of iron rails diminishing into