The visitation had clearly affected him, but I concluded that no real harm had been done apart from the break in his creative process. I felt sympathetic nevertheless. After all, he was quite unused to having outsiders poking around when he was carrying out his duties.
‘I don’t suppose these men were dressed in olive drab, were they?’ I asked, although I already knew the answer.
‘Yes, they were, sir,’ said Greylag, ‘both of them.’
‘Did they give you anything?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Well, never mind,’ I said. ‘They’ve gone now.’
‘But they shouldn’t have been here, should they, sir?’
‘No,’ I concurred, ‘not without asking.’
I couldn’t afford to delay any longer, so I assured Greylag he wouldn’t be disturbed again, then collected my dandy coat and headed back. The delegation was just about to leave when I arrived. Smew was now wearing the ceremonial crown. Wryneck and Brambling were both attired in their smartest outfits. I joined them and we set off for the counting house. It wasn’t quite twelve yet, but the three men were already waiting at the door. As I expected, they were all dressed in olive drab uniforms. I recognised Gadwall from our previous encounters. His official title was Commissioner of Railways for the City of Scoffers. Merganser turned out to be the man who’d tipped me my silver ‘sixpence’. He was introduced as Chief Recruiting Agent for the City of Scoffers. The third man I hadn’t seen before. His name was Grosbeak, and he announced himself as City Treasurer. Apparently he didn’t consider it necessary to mention which city he was referring to; and this omission more or less set the tone for the proceedings. Several times during the ensuing talks the three men referred simply to ‘the city’ as if we were already quite familiar with its every detail. Furthermore, they made it clear that they regarded the empire as little more than peripheral to the City of Scoffers, which in turn they seemed to think was at the centre of the universe. They spoke as though it had been extant for a thousand years, rather than a few fortuitous decades; and when compared with the City of Scoffers all else paled into insignificance.
Centre of the universe or not, it was certainly the centre of an integrated railway system. We quickly gathered that the network radiated in all directions from a vast industrial heartland. Just lately a new spoke had been extended into Greater Fallowfields; and now the contractors were demanding payment. It transpired that Grosbeak handled the collection of debt.
Before discussing terms, however, Smew insisted that the correct protocol be followed. He began, therefore, by presenting his officers-of-state. First to step forward was Wryneck, who managed to give a very good account of himself. He had obviously done his homework and knew just enough about railway gauges to hold his own in polite conversation. He bowed curtly to Grosbeak, and the gesture was duly returned.
When my turn came, Smew accidentally introduced me as Principal Conductor to the Imperial Court.
‘Principal Composer, actually,’ I said, shaking hands with Grosbeak, ‘although I do conduct from time to time. I’m in charge of the imperial orchestra.’
Grosbeak raised his eyebrows.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘the philharmonic host.’
This phrase struck me as being rather dismissive, and my initial assumption was that Grosbeak had no interest whatsoever in music. Yet plainly he was aware of the orchestra’s existence. Then I remembered Greylag’s report about the two men who’d turned up at the cake asking all sorts of questions. It sounded to me as if they were ‘taking stock’ of the orchestra, preparing an inventory so to speak, and vaguely I wondered if Grosbeak had anything to do with it.
Meanwhile, the spotlight had turned on Brambling.
‘Financial matters are dealt with here at the counting house,’ declared Smew, ‘so if you have no objection I’ll leave you in Brambling’s care; and hope to see you afterwards for tea?’
Evidently Smew believed he had done all he needed to do. He gave each of us a courteous nod, then strode off in the direction of the great library. Wryneck went with him, but I decided to stay and provide Brambling with some moral support. His chosen approach was seemingly one of openness.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ he began, ‘we’ve received your invoice and we’re prepared to offer an immediate deposit.’
‘Indeed?’ said Grosbeak.
‘The balance to be settled within seven days,’ Brambling added.
Grosbeak conferred briefly with Gadwall and Merganser before replying.
‘This is not our normal way of doing business,’ he said. ‘Seven days is a long while to withhold such a large sum, especially when you’ve had twelve days already.’ He paused. ‘However, it so happens we have further matters to address which could arguably take another week. In consequence we agree to accept your deposit. I presume it’s cash?’
‘Yes it is,’ replied Brambling, ‘so if you’d just care to step inside?’
We filed into the counting house and Brambling led us to the iron-bound treasure chest.
‘Here we are,’ he said.
He then made a bit of a performance out of finding the key, which he pretended to have lost on his person. I guessed that the idea of this jape was to lighten the general mood, but it failed to raise even a smile from the three creditors. Instead, they merely stood watching his antics with sober expressions on their faces. Finally he located the key and unlocked the chest.
The hoard of sixpences, shillings and half-crowns certainly looked impressive as it gleamed in the fading afternoon light. I was therefore surprised by the collective reaction of Grosbeak, Gadwall and Merganser. The sound they uttered, apparently in unison, was difficult to describe. It was part guffaw, part smirk and part sneer; and was so unexpected that Brambling and I glanced at one another warily. Without invitation Grosbeak scooped up a handful of coins, examined them momentarily, and allowed them to trickle between his fingers.
Then he turned to Brambling.
‘We can’t accept this,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ asked Brambling.
‘It’s worthless.’
‘How can it be worthless?’ protested Brambling. ‘This is the imperial currency!’
Grosbeak raised his hand.
‘I should correct myself,’ he said. ‘This money is no longer recognised as international exchange.’
‘Since when?’
‘For at least a decade.’
‘So we can’t use it to settle the debt?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Grosbeak. ‘There is only one valid means of payment nowadays.’
He dipped into his pocket and produced a coin, which he held flat in the palm of his hand. It was identical to the ‘sixpence’ I’d received from Merganser.
‘We call this the anvil,’ Grosbeak announced, ‘although its proper designation is the “currency unit of the City of Scoffers”.’
‘Also known as CoS,’ I ventured.
‘Quite so,’ said Grosbeak.
There was a brief hiatus as Brambling sank on to a chair. He was clearly shaken by this unheralded turn of events and needed to catch his breath.
In the meantime, Merganser went over to the table and peered down at Brambling’s ledger. Then, slowly and deliberately, he began turning the pages. He was soon joined by Grosbeak, and the two of them spent several minutes scrutinising the contents.
‘Is this a full record of the empire’s financial affairs?’ asked Grosbeak.
‘Yes,’ Brambling replied, ‘it’s all there in the finest detail.’
‘Then you won’t mind if we borrow it to see if we can find a way out of this impasse?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Very well,’ said Grosbeak, closing the ledger again. ‘I’ll send my men to collect it later.’