Eritopia

Best to Obey Orders

Beetle was nodding.

'Good, good,' Melos said. 'Your family is important to you, I can tell.'

Beetle kept nodding. Melos leaned further in. 'What we have here is a group of people determined to overthrow power. To disrupt the process of government. And what will be the result if they succeed?'

Beetle shook his head.

'More taxes. Fewer jobs. Less money in your pocket. For your family, for beer.' Melos stressed the last word. Beetle twitched. He tried to avoid paying taxes as much as possible.

'And then there are the long term consequences. Strangers in the City. Your King deposed. Outsiders, or worse, Insiders telling you and your fellow citizens what to do.'

Beetle had no idea what this fierce man was talking about. All he could hear were the words Barnabas had spoken to him – 'A man called Melos. He will not be as easy with you as I am.'

'I don't know 'bout that,' Beetle said. 'We live a quiet life, we support the King. I'm sure my son–'

'His name?'

'Martin, 'is name's Martin. I'm sure 'e doesn't know what 'e's getting into.'

'Which is?'

'Well we've all 'eard the rumours. Protests, disruption, secret meetings. I'm sure you know more about it than I do.'

'Of course. But it is always good to have the common view.' Melos leaned back. 'Your son is in with a bad crowd. When we catch them, and we will catch them, he could be in a lot of trouble. Unless, unless...' he leaned forward again. 'You love your son, I can tell. You don't want him to get in any more trouble, do you? Guilt by association?'

No, sir, definitely not, sir.'

'Well then,' Melos whispered. 'Here's what you must do to save him.'

***

'Where have you been?'

Beetle was back home when Martin came in.

'Out,' he said. He hadn't wanted to come back, but Tom thought it necessary. To allay suspicion.

'Not being useful on the patch, I suppose,' his father said.

'I've done enough work there for one year,' Martin replied. He went into their tiny kitchen. 'Anything for dinner?'

'Does it look like it?'

Martin helped himself to bread and cheese. He came out eating a sandwich. 'I'm going out again later. Any objections?' he mumbled.

Beetle shrugged.

'Fine.' Martin said. He felt good about himself. The rescue of the animals and their passage to Tom's hut had been exciting. He felt like he hadn't been that useful, or involved in anything, for ages. Something was happening. Change was in the air, and he was a part of it.

Beetle sensed the need for change too, but it was because he had got himself in a pickle. He needed to get out of it. Melos' words rang in his head. "Follow him to the meeting. Find out who they are. Come back and inform me. Or else."

'Do you want me to come with you?' Beetle asked his son.

'No. Why would you want to?'

'I dunno. Keep you company. Your Ma would approve.'

You wouldn't be welcome. My friends are younger. Dynamic. You wouldn't fit in.'

'With the Brotherhood?'

Martin sat down at the table. 'What do you know of them?'

''Nuffin'. Talk down the tavern.'

'There is no Brotherhood. Idle talk by idle people.'

'Pish. It's about as secret as the juggeries. Everyone knows about the Brotherhood.'

'You don't know anything.'

Beetle hadn't handled that well. What was it Melos had said? "Don't arouse suspicions." He started to pull a curtain across the window. It was getting dark.

'Of course yer right. Idle talk. Too much beer.' He laughed. Martin didn't. 'Anyway, how's that job hunting going?'

'Like you care.'

Beetle persisted. Much was at stake, including his own neck. A brief tour of the dungeons in the company of Melos had convinced him of that.

'I can put in a good word for you. At the Palace. I 'ear they want 'elp in the kitchens.'

'No thanks.'

'Your Ma would love–'

'Forget about it. What influence could a man like you have in the Palace?'

Beetle flushed. 'Why you...' Angry and frustrated he kicked the chair Martin was sitting on. 'One day I'm going to–'

'What?'

'Teach you some manners.' He aimed a kick at the wall and went into the kitchen. There was a loud clatter as he kicked something else. 'Go to your bloody Brotherhood. See if I care.'

When he came out moments later he picked a coat off the rack by the door. He pulled it on, pushed the door open and slammed it behind him. Outside dusk was falling. An owl hooted nearby. There was a full moon, it was chilly and he drew the jacket round him. The urge for a drink was great, but he didn't have much coin. No jugs to barter either, until the next production, and that was weeks away.

'Bloody Brotherhood,' he muttered. He walked fifty paces down the lane, and turned. Made sure he could still see the door of their shack.

The owl hooted. 'Too wit.'

Then another in reply. 'Too woo.'

He settled by a wall and waited for Martin to leave.

An hour passed. He shuffled from leg to leg, wished he'd picked up his better coat, the one with the thick collar. When was that son of his moving off?

He was freezing. They could at least have sent someone to help him. Except he knew it was a tryst between himself and Melos. Who seemed to be the only one in the Palace to have any idea of what was going on.

Beetle was hopeful of great things, if he could pull off this coup. His directive was to follow Martin and find out where the nest of dissident vipers were. Strangers, friends, citizens or animals, he would shop the lot and achieve his aim.

A proper job in the Palace beckoned, with money and influence. A position as councillor even, with free shirts to wear and and a bar tab at The Myrtle.

The boy was a problem, but he could be saved. Melos had promised leniency. A course of correction, perhaps a short spell in the dungeons. It would be a wake-up for him, Beetle argued. Character-building.

The lamp in the cabin stayed on. The door, which he could just see from his vantage point, remained shut.

But if he could have seen around the far side of the hut he would have noticed a half-open window.

If he could have looked inside the hut, he would have seen a lamp wick burning down, its light slowly dimming.

And nobody around.