CHAPTER 5
On Wednesday afternoon at ten to three I rounded up Whimbrel and Brambling, and we went over to the great library. Smew was due to deliver one of his talks on the history of the empire, and apart from anything else I was interested to find out who would be there. The great library was an impressive edifice with a huge pair of wooden doors at the front. These doors remained wide open for long periods every day, as if inviting people to come and see the vast collection of books inside. We spent a few minutes admiring an apparently infinite maze of fully laden shelves; then we proceeded to the reading room. This was an annexe at the west side of the building, graced with a large bay window which allowed the daylight to come flooding in. There were a good few bookshelves here as well; also, some carefully placed tables and chairs. Everything was arranged, it seemed, for the convenience of the reader.
Today, however, half a dozen extra chairs had been added to accommodate Smew’s listeners. These were positioned in two rows of three. Before them was a small lectern. When we arrived Smew was standing with his back to us, staring out of the bay window as if completely lost in thought. It came as no surprise to see that Wryneck was already sitting in one of the front seats. Also present, immediately behind him, was Sanderling. There was no sign, though, of either Dotterel or Garganey. The clock had begun striking three when Brambling and Whimbrel slid into the other two seats in the back row. I sat down in the front row, at the opposite end to Wryneck. Then Smew turned and addressed us from the lectern.
‘You’ll be pleased to hear,’ he began, ‘that I am not a dates man. It makes no difference to me when such-and-such an event occurred. Such details are for the record books only, and have no relevance in the stream of history. Therefore, we will not be learning any dates during the course of this talk.’
From Wryneck there now came an appreciative chuckle, as though he was sharing some sort of ‘in’ joke with Smew. The rest of us were silent.
‘Neither will I be listing any princes, kings or even emperors,’ Smew continued. ‘I am not concerned with naming names despite their undoubted achievements. Instead, I intend to talk today about the empire itself; about the process by which it came about; and about the factors which sustain it.’
While Smew spoke I found myself gazing at the walls that rose up around the bay window. Looking down at us from these heights were several portraits of previous emperors; but none, yet, of the latest incumbent. Smew stood below them at the lectern, having just revealed that they would not be included in his talk.
‘So how does an empire begin?’ he asked. ‘Well, in our case it started with sailing ships. As we all know, the realm of Fallowfields lies on a western seaboard with many natural harbours and landing places. Consequently, our people since time immemorial have been masters of the deep. They built the finest vessels; they sailed and traded north and south along the coast; they cast their nets and brought home all manner of fish; and the more time they spent plying the waters, the broader their knowledge of ships and sailing came to be.’
Smew went on to describe how we swiftly attained maritime supremacy over our landlocked neighbours in the east. Hemmed in by swamps and forests, they were unable to reach the ocean without passing down our rivers and through our great ports. For this privilege they were required to pay ‘ship money’ which went directly into our coffers. Yet even when they finally left the harbour their seamanship was instantly exposed as being far inferior to ours. Smew told us a number of enjoyable tales about how our ships were often obliged to go and rescue theirs because they’d been blown off course; or because they’d simply lost their way. They were hopeless at navigation compared to us; there was no question of that. Furthermore, their ships had a marked tendency to sink without trace. Whenever we put to sea we invariably gained an advantage, one way or another, and this was all because we were better at sailing than anyone else.
‘And because we were better at sailing,’ announced Smew, ‘we gradually came to believe that we were superior in all other respects as well. At some stage we began to use the title “Greater Fallowfields”, rather than the more literal “Fallow Fields” of yore. “Greater” was a purely geographical term, of course, and originally appeared on maps; its purpose was to include the islands and inhabited sandbanks dotted along our coastline. Very soon, however, we started to take it as meaning “greater” as in “more important”. The way was now open for us to declare ourselves an empire, which we duly did.’
Smew paused and glanced at his audience. He had been going for a good hour and the talk had certainly been absorbing. To my left, I realised for the first time that Wryneck was busy taking notes of the lecture. Now he stopped writing and waited with pen poised for Smew to resume. Someone in the seats behind me shuffled his feet restlessly. I guessed it was Whimbrel. All else remained quiet in the reading room. A few moments passed; then Smew turned towards the bay window and looked out.
‘Nonetheless,’ he said, still with his back turned, ‘it should be emphasised that the empire was not established by force-of-arms. Such action would have been regarded as most improper. Instead, we strove merely to create benign “spheres of influence”. Just beyond the border existed several small duchies and principalities who found it quite convenient to drift into our sway, especially as they were thereby exempt from paying “ship money”. Other outlying territories were incorporated because they happened to share the same language. Hence, the “associated realms and dominions” began slowly to come into being. Meanwhile, in dealing with our larger neighbours, and those countries which were further removed, we chose to lead by example. We soon discovered that we could win people over by setting high standards in diplomacy, husbandry and good governance; in short, by showing them that our way of doing things was always the best. It was not long before the whole world wished only to emulate this illustrious empire of ours; and in the next talk I’ll examine the subject in greater depth.’
Smew turned away from the window, and then stood stock still with a pained expression on his face. For a second I was unable to discern the cause of his disquiet, but when I looked around I saw that the seats behind me were all empty. It seemed the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Astronomer Royal and the Comptroller for the Admiralty had all sneaked out before the end of the talk.
‘That was shameful!’ snapped Wryneck. He rose to his feet and began marching towards the door. ‘I’m going to have a severe word with those three individuals!’
‘Don’t bother, Wryneck,’ said Smew. ‘If they weren’t interested they weren’t interested. It can’t be helped.’
All the same, he was clearly disappointed and I had to admit I felt rather sorry for him.
‘Well, if it’s worth anything,’ I said, ‘I found the talk very interesting.’
‘Did you really?’ asked Smew.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll definitely be attending the next one.’
‘How kind,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
Wryneck was still hovering nearby. Now he turned to me. ‘Fond of history, are you?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I do quite like it.’
‘I see.’
‘How about you?’
‘Naturally, I’m interested in the history of the empire,’ he said. ‘It would be unthinkable not to be.’
‘Indeed.’
Wryneck stared at me unblinkingly, but said nothing more. Meanwhile, Smew was beginning to perk up a little.
‘Like some tea?’ he enquired.
‘Oh, thanks,’ I said. ‘That would be nice.’
‘Lemon curd and toasted soldiers?’
‘Sounds even better.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Over by the doorway, a tasselled cord dangled from the ceiling. Smew pulled it and an instant later Shrike appeared. As usual he was wearing the full imperial livery.
‘Ah, Shrike,’ said Smew. ‘Can we have tea for three please?’
‘Here in the reading room, sir?’
‘Of course.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Shrike went off with his orders, while Smew led Wryneck and me over to the bay window. Situated here were some very comfortable chairs and a desk covered in books and papers. Smew asked us to sit down, and it quickly became evident that this was his own personal little corner. Through the window we could see a beautiful walled garden, and beyond it lay the royal palace. Some minutes later, Shrike arrived with the tea, as well as a huge plate of toasted soldiers and a pot of lemon curd. The three of us passed the next half hour in resplendent ease, and at last I felt I was sampling some of the perquisites of high office. Finally, at about five o’clock, the sun began to set over the palace, casting warm beams of light on Smew, Wryneck and myself.
‘Marvellous,’ uttered Smew. ‘Absolutely marvellous.’
‘Make the most of it,’ I said. ‘The clocks will be going back soon.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Smew. ‘I’d forgotten about the altering of the clocks. Why does that happen, by the way? I’ve never quite understood.’
‘I’m not certain,’ I answered, ‘but I think it’s to prepare the populace for the twelve-day feast; for all those long, dark evenings when the public houses are full to the brim.’
‘You mean places like the Maypole?’ said Smew.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve heard it’s a den of iniquity,’ said Wryneck.
‘You’ve never been inside then?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Nor me,’ said Smew.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I propose to pay a visit one evening, so if anyone wishes to accompany me they’re very welcome.’
‘You’ll excuse me if I say no,’ murmured Wryneck, before pouring himself another cup of tea.
We were still basking in the glow of sunset when suddenly the door opened and in walked Garganey.
‘Oh,’ he said when he saw us. ‘You’re still here.’
‘Naturally, we’re still here,’ said Smew.
‘Then you’ll forgive me if I sound selfish, gentlemen, but I was hoping to have the place to myself for a while. I intend to spend an hour studying our play.’
‘That’s very commendable,’ remarked Smew. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘It’s not a question of anyone being impressed,’ countered Garganey. ‘It’s a question of doing something properly if it’s going to be done at all.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Smew, ‘and I dare say we’ll all be on our way once the sun’s gone down. Meanwhile, why don’t you join us for some tea?’
‘Thank you, no,’ said Garganey. ‘There isn’t time.’
‘Of course there’s time,’ said Smew. ‘I insist.’
Smew quickly gave up his seat to Garganey and found another for himself. Garganey offered no further protest and sat down, although he was plainly reluctant to do so. Then Shrike was summoned and dispatched with another order for tea and toasted soldiers.
‘Apologies for missing your talk,’ said Garganey, ‘but I’ve had a hectic day.’
‘Anything serious?’ Smew asked.
‘It’s difficult to know at this stage,’ Garganey replied. ‘My postmen seem to have some reservations about the changes I’ve been implementing. Do you remember we agreed that they were going to have their breakfast before they went out in the mornings?’
‘As discussed in cabinet,’ said Wryneck.
‘Exactly,’ said Garganey. ‘It was discussed at the highest level, yet today I received a delegation of postmen who informed me that they weren’t happy about having their breakfasts moved.’
‘Really?’
‘They said that such had been the blow to their morale it could only be detrimental to the postal service.’
At this moment Shrike returned with a heavily laden tray. As fresh supplies of tea and toast were dispensed, Garganey said nothing about the fact that we were being served by a liveried attendant in full imperial regalia. Perhaps his earlier misgivings had begun to subside. Or maybe he was simply too preoccupied with his own concerns to notice. Either way, he now lapsed temporarily into silence while Shrike poured out the tea.
‘Why can’t you just command your postmen to do as they’re told?’ suggested Wryneck at length.
‘Because they’re not serfs,’ said Garganey. ‘They’re commoners.’
‘I see.’
‘Moreover, they’re fully aware that the changes are only for a trial period and don’t carry the full weight of an imperial edict.’
‘In other words they’re being awkward.’
‘I don’t really like to call it awkwardness,’ said Garganey. ‘After all, they’re only trying to maintain what they see as a tradition, however archaic it might appear. We’re talking about honourable men with unbending principles. Yet they also have ordinary desires. With this in mind I attempted to soften them up a little this afternoon, though I’m afraid my efforts were to no avail.’
‘What happened?’
‘I took the delegation along to the confectioner’s shop and offered to buy them all a treat; but then that damned Hobby refused to accept my stipendiary sixpence. I felt most humiliated.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Smew.
‘He even had the cheek to offer me a toffee apple in recompense.’
‘Did you accept?’ I asked.
‘Certainly not,’ said Garganey. ‘The delegation had already taken their leave and I had to set off after them. Eventually, after much persuasion, they agreed to continue with the trial for the time being, but the situation remains unsatisfactory.’
‘As you correctly pointed out,’ said Wryneck, ‘the full weight of an imperial edict would have been helpful.’
‘Quite,’ said Garganey.
While we’d been talking the sun had finally dipped behind the royal palace. Soon Shrike reappeared and cleared away the teacups. Then he started going around lighting the lamps.
‘All right, Garganey,’ said Smew, rising from his seat. ‘I suppose you want some peace and quiet so you can get down to studying the play?’
‘Yes, if nobody minds,’ replied Garganey. ‘I’d like to rehearse my role as king.’
‘Temporary role,’ said Wryneck.
‘Of course,’ said Garganey.