When he saw me he was polite and we exchanged greetings.
‘Congratulations,’ I said. ‘It looks like a fine piece of workmanship.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied.
We watched as the last nuts and bolts were fastened. Then the engine gave a shrill whistle. The job was truly finished.
‘Is this the end of the line?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Gadwall, ‘this is the beginning.’
Chapter 17
Later that morning an emergency meeting of the cabinet was convened. It was supposed to be a half-holiday: the occasion when the clocks were readjusted and ‘proper’ imperial time resumed. Indeed, Dotterel’s artisans had already begun the painstaking task of converting Whimbrel’s calculations into reality. All over the capital, clocks were being carefully altered. Meanwhile, Garganey’s postmen delivered the instructions further afield. When they returned, it was proposed, the half-holiday could commence.
At some point, however, word had reached Smew about the arrival of the railway. Accordingly, we were all summoned to the cabinet room.
‘Why weren’t we informed?’ Smew demanded. ‘Someone has built a railway right up to our doorstep yet nobody noticed.’
‘Well, my artisans have been far too busy with the clocks,’ said Dotterel. ‘They hardly had time for anything else.’
‘My postmen have been stumbling around in darkness,’ added Garganey. ‘We can’t blame them either.’
Smew turned to Whimbrel. ‘What about you?’ he said. ‘Didn’t you see anything through your telescope?’
‘Wait a minute,’ I interjected. ‘It’s not Whimbrel’s fault. He only gets one sixpence at a time.’
‘Besides which,’ said Whimbrel, ‘I’m supposed to be looking at the stars, not the approach of railways.’
‘Quarrelling isn’t going to get us anywhere,’ said Dotterel. ‘Shouldn’t we decide what we’re going to do?’
‘Agreed,’ said Wryneck.
‘One fact is for certain,’ said Smew. ‘We don’t need a railway.’
A murmur of assent passed around the table.
‘This empire was built on seafaring,’ he continued. ‘We have always travelled by ship and no other means of transport are required. A railway will only bring unwelcome influences.’
‘Such as?’ I asked.
‘The customs of the east,’ said Smew. ‘We don’t want them here.’
‘But doesn’t the railway represent progress?’ said Dotterel. ‘Resisting it would be like trying to stop the tide from turning.’
‘Progress doesn’t bring improvement,’ declared Smew. ‘It just makes people think they’re cleverer than they actually are.’
‘We can’t have that,’ said Wryneck.
‘Of course we can’t,’ said Smew.
‘What I want to know,’ said Garganey, ‘is how they had the audacity to build this railway without consulting us?’
‘I imagine,’ said Smew, ‘that it’s the product of a so-called friendly city: the kind I discussed in my recent talks. Here we see a typical example of the way they operate. They simply drive forward, meeting each obstruction as it comes. It seems that one such city is flourishing particularly well at the moment. History suggests it will be at the expense of others.’
‘Not us, though, surely?’ said Whimbrel.
‘As long as we’re vigilant, no,’ replied Smew, ‘but we need to consider our options carefully.’
‘Why don’t we send a delegation?’ I said. ‘Then we could speak with the railwaymen and find out their intentions.’
‘That would be an indication of weakness,’ said Wryneck. ‘Far better if we wait until they come to us.’
‘Agreed,’ said Smew. ‘We must carry on as normal and make it clear that their presence will have no effect on our way of life.’
During the course of the meeting the sky had been darkening steadily. A glance at the clock told me it was half past twelve. There was no sign of rain, yet the light continued to deteriorate. It then occurred to me that the descending murk had nothing to do with the weather: what I was witnessing was the onset of dusk. Nobody else appeared to notice, however, so I didn’t say anything.
There was a knock on the door and Shrike came in. He approached Smew and bowed. ‘The post has arrived, my liege.’
There was only one item: a letter in a brown envelope bearing an unusual postmark. Smew opened it.
‘Confounded cheek!’ he exclaimed. ‘They’ve sent an invoice for the construction of the railway.’
‘Well, we’re not paying it,’ uttered Brambling. ‘The imperial funds aren’t for white elephants.’
Smew was still peering at the invoice. ‘I’m afraid we may not have any choice,’ he said. ‘Apparently the order was signed by the emperor himself.’
We all gasped in disbelief.
‘Well he might at least have told us!’ snapped Dotterel.
‘Maybe he did,’ said Whimbrel. ‘Perhaps his letter was lost in the post.’
Everybody looked at Garganey, as though this was all somehow his fault.
‘Don’t blame me,’ he said. ‘The emperor’s landed us with this railway when we didn’t even ask for one.’
‘If you don’t ask you don’t get,’ said Sanderling.
During this discussion, Shrike had been waiting patiently in the corner of the room. Now, having observed the turmoil caused by the invoice, he quietly departed.
‘We shouldn’t argue in front of the serfs,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t look very good at all.’
‘Actually, Shrike is no longer a serf,’ said Smew. ‘I’ve had him raised to a commoner.’
Smew made this announcement in a very lofty tone of voice. He was sitting in the emperor’s chair, and as usual displayed all the confidence of a natural ruler.
‘May we take it that you intend to continue as regent?’ asked Garganey.
‘Correct,’ said Smew. He handed the invoice to Brambling. ‘Your department, I believe.’
Brambling examined the figures and his eyes widened.
‘Good grief,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to trawl the coffers.’
On Wryneck’s suggestion, Brambling was dispatched to the counting house to do some reckoning. Meanwhile, the rest of the cabinet agreed that we would play a waiting game.
‘If they want money they’re going to have to come and get it,’ concluded Smew.
Darkness had fallen by the time our deliberations were over. Nobody passed comment that it was still only three in the afternoon, and I therefore assumed everyone was quite satisfied with the ‘new’ hours. The temptation, of course, was to head directly for 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.