AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I've recently developed a crush on Messiah, as I once again discovered that (a) there's a reason things become classics and (b) just because something is popular does not mean it's bad. While I youtubed and amazon radio'd my way through production after production of Handel's famous oratorio, I wondered what it would be like to experience it in concert, especially back when there was no way to just call up music on demand...and then my other crush on the Johns reared its head, and here we are.
...
April 1820
It was a fine afternoon in early spring. The pupils of the Starecross School for Magicians were in the garden, taking their Horticulture exam; the last one before the Easter holiday. Mr Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus observed from a distance as five young men and two young ladies tried to persuade a selection of trees to bear fruit.
"Watch Miss Redruth," said Honeyfoot. "She is so focused! I can't imagine that a mere tree would be able to withstand her commands for long."
"Yes, but the natural world so often needs a request rather than a command," said Segundus. "I don't doubt that the tree will respond, but it might not be in the way that - ah! What did I tell you?"
Miss Redruth's tree suddenly grew thirty feet tall, turned purple, and then collapsed back into its usual form with a sound like angry bees. One small apple dangled from the end of a branch. Miss Redruth looked at it with equal parts irritation and pride.
"Very good, Miss Redruth," murmured Henry Purfois, who was administering the exam. He scribbled something in a small notebook and then went on: "Please return to the classroom and write a brief essay detailing the spells you used and the effects they had."
"Master Palmer looks as though he is falling into the opposite error," Segundus said, while Miss Redruth strode away. "He is too diffident."
"You're right," said Honeyfoot, as their youngest student (a boy of fourteen) stood with fists clenched as his sides and his eyes screwed shut in concentration. "His tree hasn't so much as twitched a leaf. Now Jane, on the other hand - "
Their commentary was interrupted when Mrs Honeyfoot poked her head out of an upstairs window and called: "I say! Mr Segundus! There's a gentleman in the Mirror Room who says he'd like to see you!"
"Who is it, my dear?" Honeyfoot called back.
"I didn't recognize him, Mr Honeyfoot, but he looks like quite a fine gentleman."
"You may tell him I'll be there directly, Mrs Honeyfoot," said Segundus, and started walking towards the Hall.
"Shall I come with you, sir?" said Honeyfoot.
"No, that's not necessary. You carry on watching the exam."
"Gladly," chuckled Honeyfoot.
It's probably the father or elder brother of one of our students, reflected Segundus, shewing off his magical prowess by arriving via the Roads. I'll foist him off on Hadley-Bright; he's not doing any thing particularly important right now... He stepped into the entrance hall, blinking at the contrast between its cool dimness and the brightness outdoors, and headed for the Mirror Room.
The Mirror Room had been instituted during Levy and Hadley-Bright's experiments with two-way communication some years before. After everyone at Starecross had (at various unexpected times) found the face of one or the other of those enterprising young men peering out at them from one of the household mirrors, they took to keeping all mirrors covered or turned to the wall. This made it challenging for anyone who wanted to visit the school by the King's Roads - notably John Childermass, who was technically a resident there but traveled constantly. Segundus's solution had been to put a large, uncovered mirror in one of the empty rooms. The room had also been fitted with a selection of ward-and-watch spells, so that no one could step through unnoticed.
Segundus, climbing a narrow staircase that led to the first floor, encountered Mrs Honeyfoot coming the other way.
"Hello, sir!" she greeted him cheerfully. "I am sorry I interrupted your exam, but I thought you would like to see this fellow sooner rather than later, and he did ask for you in particular."
"Quite right, Mrs Honeyfoot. Why don't you go out there yourself and take a look? Jane is about to have her turn."
Mrs Honeyfoot's merry countenance brightened further at the mention of her youngest daughter.
(A year ago, Jane Honeyfoot had finally made up her mind: she wanted to be a magician. Since her father was one of the co-founders of the Starecross School for Magicians, her enrollment as a student had been inevitable.
Segundus had had reservations at first. He did not feel that they were equipped to deal with the complications that arose from having students of both genders under one roof. Mrs Honeyfoot, ever resourceful when it came to her children's happiness, suggested that she move to Starecross along with her daughter. Once there, she could act as chaperone for Jane and for any other female students that might join the school.
Mr Honeyfoot had supported this idea whole-heartedly. He liked to have his family around him, and traveling between his work at Starecross and his home in York had been tiring and time-consuming. Now all three Honeyfoots - father, mother, and daughter - were so much a part of life at the school that it was hard to remember a time before they were all there.)
"I'm on my way to the garden right now, sir," Mrs Honeyfoot said. "That's where I was going when I heard the wards chiming!" After curtseying as well as she could while standing on the staircase, she continued on her way.
Still smiling from the infectious good humor that radiated from his friend's wife, Segundus finished the brief journey to the Mirror Room. He paused before entering, readying himself to discuss projected exam results and the state of the King's Roads with whoever was inside, then opened the door.
He saw a well-dressed gentleman standing at the window, looking out at whatever was occurring in the garden. "Good afternoon, sir," said Segundus. "I am John Segundus, the headmaster. Might I ask your name? I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintence."
The man turned to face him, smiling wryly. "That's at least the third time you've greeted me like that since I first met you, John," he said. "Soon I shall start to grow offended."
Segundus let out a disbelieving huff. "John Childermass! I thought you were in London! What on earth are you doing here, and dressed like that?"
"It's one of the disguises I use when I want to move about in certain circles without being noticed. Thought I'd try it out on you. What do you think?"
"It suits you," said Segundus, after taking a moment to admire the fine material and excellent tailoring of the clothes that had taken the place of Childermass's usual ancient attire. "You are very handsome, my dear sir."
"Didn't you know that already?"
"Of course I did. I was one of the first to discover it, according to you," said Segundus, coming closer and lifting a hand to Childermass's flawlessly shaven face. "To be honest, it's the smooth cheeks and the tidy hair that had me fooled."
"I couldn't bring myself to cut it clean off," said Childermass, reaching back to touch the neat, ribbon-wrapped queue that now tamed his ragged black locks.
After a quick glance around to make sure that they weren't being watched - magically or otherwise - they shared a kiss. "I am glad," said Segundus. "I am fond of your vagabond appearance."
"Then I'm glad, too," said Childermass. "I'm not planning on making a habit of dressing like this. It's not very comfortable."
"Not to mention you wouldn't have the fun of scandalizing those pompous fools who think that magician is synonymous with well-born and idle."
"There is that."
The room went quiet as they indulged in another embrace. Then Segundus said:
"Now, why are you in disguise? I can't believe you'd go to all that trouble just to earn some compliments from me - I couldn't possibly admire you more than I already do, you know."
"Yes, I know."
"Cheeky." Segundus swatted Childermass's hands away.
"We've been asked to do some security work at a charity concert being performed tonight at the Foundling Hospital chapel. Lady Pole is one of the people organizing it, and she recommended that you and I be the ones to set up spells of protection around the donations that are expected to come in. There have been rumors of a nefarious plot to swipe the takings."
"Ah yes, she mentioned the concert in her last letter. It is a praiseworthy endeavor. They fear a robbery?"
"Yes, they've heard something that raised their suspicions, and decided this would be the least inconvenient way to deal with it. For them, at least. There's not much of a fee, I'm afraid. Do you like concerts?"
"I don't know. I've never been to one," said Segundus. "I certainly enjoy music in general. You said it was tonight?"
"Aye. What do you think?"
"I would be delighted! Er - what should I wear?"
"Whatever you've got that will help you blend in to a crowd of rich folk."
"I think I can achieve a reasonable approximation of evening dress. Mrs Lennox pursuaded me - "
" - bullied you - "
" - persuaded me to purchase new clothes when the school opened. Do you know what music will be playing?"
"Handel's Messiah."
"Oh! How marvelous! I look forward to it. I can't leave just yet, though. I would like to finish overseeing the last exam."
"That's fine. I'll join you," said Childermass. "Should be entertaining."
Everyone - even young Palmer - passed Horticulture with fewer than the usual screams and explosions. When the essays had been written, they all went to the dining room for tea, talking and laughing in a flood of post-exam relief. Segundus, seated at the head of the table with Honeyfoot, Childermass, and the teachers, was amused to see Miss Redruth and Miss Jane Honeyfoot eyeing Childermass with approval. Apparently a change of outfit and a shave was all it took to change their fearful respect for the great magician to something warmer.
Childermass told Honeyfoot of their plans for the rest of the day and was met with the usual enthusiasm.
"What a fine thing for you to be able to assist such a worthy cause! Of course you must go!" Honeyfoot cried. "And give my regards to dear Lady Pole."
"A real London concert!" said Mrs Honeyfoot. "Mr Segundus, I shall go find Charles and make sure your best coat is aired and brushed." She hurried from the room, beaming.
"There, Mr Segundus," said Childermass. "You need not give your attire another thought. Between them, Mrs Honeyfoot and Charles will have you so dandified you'll hardly recognize yourself."
"I hope so. I don't want to be too overshadowed by you. We will both be representing English Magic, after all," said Segundus seriously, and earned a bark of laughter from Childermass.
...
When the time came for them to go to the concert, they navigated the high, crumbling bridges and coiled stairways of the King's Roads without mishap. (There was a moment of suspense when they were confronted by a six-foot-tall praying mantis, but it only wished to compliment them on their dapper appearance. "Such a pleasant change from the scruffy so-called 'magicians' one sees so often on the roads these days," it hissed through clicking mandibles.
"Do you think it was talking about me?" Childermass said, after their arthropod interlocutor had stalked away. "Maybe I should start making more of an effort.")
They emerged through a mirror in one of the vestries of the Foundling Hospital chapel, where Sir Walter Pole was waiting for them. "Good evening, my dear sirs," he said, bowing. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Thank you, sir," said Segundus. "This is an unexpected pleasure - I did not know you would be here. Are you on the committee that organized this concert?"
"No, but I am one of the elected governors of the hospital, so I came with my wife to keep her company. Here she is now," said Sir Walter, as Lady Emma Pole entered the vestry. She wore a white gown with an overdress in sheer blue silk, and her dark, silver-threaded hair was piled high in an intricate mass of curls. Her eyes were friendly but also wary as she approached the magicians.
"I am so glad you were able to come, Mr Segundus and Mr Childermass," she said. "We really didn't know what else to do, you see - we only caught wind of this possible robbery this morning."
Segundus took the hand she held out to him and bowed over it as he replied: "We are delighted to be of service, ma'am. I hope your journey from Great Hitherden was comfortable?"
"Yes, it was. Mrs Strange asked to be remembered to you, of course; she also told me to be sure to thank you once more for your work on her husband's biography, and to congratulate you upon its success."
"I could not have done it without her assistance, so the congratulations belong equally to her. Is she well?"
"Quite well. She is kept busy with her nieces - twins take a great deal of looking after, especially when they have just learned to climb things!"
"Yes, yes. Very good," put in Childermass, ready to move on from these domestic concerns. "Have you told the authorities of your concerns about tonight?"
Sir Walter looked vexed. "We have tried talking to various magistrates, and the Bow Street Runners," he said. "However, they have no real interest in a crime that only might be committed. I suppose one can hardly blame them. It was only a rumor that a coachman overheard, and in all likelihood it will come to nothing. Still, one can't be too careful..." He sighed, then gestured to a massively constructed chest of oak and iron at the center of the small room. "This is where the donations will be placed before being taken to the bank."
"Who will be doing the actual collecting?" asked Segundus.
"Some of the older children who reside here at the hospital, carefully selected for their records of good behavior. They will hold the silver plates to receive contributions from those coming into the chapel. When the plates are full, footmen - one will be standing with each child - will transfer the contents to this chest."
"Well, sir, It sounds as though you've taken sensible precautions," said Childermass. "Mr Segundus and I will try to help."
"Excellent. The concert will begin in about two hours. Will that give you sufficient time?"
"Aye, it should. May we look around the chapel first, just to get the lie of the land?"
"Oh! Allow me," said Lady Pole. "I know you have many other important matters to attend to, Sir Walter."
"Not really," said Sir Walter. "I should be happy to accompany - " Here he caught Lady Pole's eye and faltered. "That is to say - yes, I have things to do. You're absolutely right. Do let me know if you need any thing."
"Thank you, we will," said Lady Pole, taking Childermass's right arm with one hand and Segundus's left arm with the other. "Come, gentlemen." They exited the vestry, leaving Sir Walter behind them.
"What was that about?" said Childermass, when they were out of earshot. "We would not object to having your husband come with us."
Lady Pole gave an unladylike snort. "Maybe you wouldn't. Ever since my release from Lost-hope, he treats me as though I am made of spun sugar - likely to be re-enchanted or to drop dead any moment."
"To be fair, you might," said Childermass. "Any of us might."
"He seems to think that even the mention of magic will be enough to send me into a fit," continued Lady Pole, ignoring him. "When we heard that there might be a robbery tonight, another hospital governor suggested seeking magical help, and Sir Walter gave the poor man a five-minute sermon on how ungallant it was to mention such things in my presence. I could restrain myself no longer. Before I knew it, I had stepped in and suggested your names to prove my mettle."
"Just to clarify, Lady Pole," said Segundus, "you are saying that you asked us to come here solely to thumb your nose at your over-attentive spouse?"
"Yes."
"Ah."
She stopt walking, so that Childermass and Segundus had to stop as well, and looked them with great intensity. "With that said - do I have your promise, gentlemen, that you will not involve fairies? I do not care what measures you employ to carry out your commission - except for that."
"My dear lady, have no fear," said Segundus. "Was I not your guardian and companion for more than a year? I am very much aware of the suffering that can result from interactions with fairies, and I have no intention of summoning one tonight. You have my word."
"Same here," said Childermass laconically.
Lady Pole nodded, satisfied. "Thank you. You have eased my mind. Now, let us continue with our tour."
They spent the next thirty minutes exploring the immense chapel, taking note of its entrances and exits, the rows of pews capable of seating hundreds, the high galleries containing yet more pews, and the magnificent organ donated seventy years earlier by George Frideric Handel himself. Lady Pole told them something of the hospital's origins as they went - how Thomas Coram, that good, hot-tempered old sea captain, had been so appalled by the sight of abandoned infants dying on London's streets that he had established a haven for exposed and deserted young children.
"What a legacy!" said Segundus, full of admiration. "Think of the thousands of lives that have been touched through his kindness!"
"And think of how many thousands more have not," said Childermass. "It is but a drop of mercy in an ocean of misery."
Lady Pole and Segundus were somewhat taken aback by this statement. Then Segundus said:
"No doubt you are right, sir. But I do not think that means we should scorn the drop of mercy."
Lady Pole, perhaps feeling that the conversation was wandering into uncomfortable regions, said: "Well, gentlemen, I must leave you now; like Sir Walter, I have things to do before the concert begins. Is there any thing else you need?"
"I do not believe so, my lady. Thank you for the tour. I hope we shall see you when all is over?"
"Oh, without doubt. I must see if you managed to prevent the robbery, after all." She curtsied with barely a trace of sarcasm and glided away.
Childermass and Segundus, tacitly agreeing to drop the subject of the effectiveness of charity in a fallen world, continued to wander the chapel. They placed spells of protection and security upon everything they could think of - the strongbox in the vestry, the silver plates, and the doors and windows.
"What about the children and the footmen?" said Segundus. "Should we put charms on them too?"
"What, like a spell to Make a Person Eager to Carry Out Their Duty?"
"Exactly."
"I'm sure we could come up with something that would answer - unless, of course, the person considers it his duty to steal," said Childermass.
"How about a Spell to Prevent Deceit?"
"Is there such a thing?"
"We can make one up and see if it works."
They had settled in the corner of a pew at the front of the north gallery, which afforded them a view of most of the entrances and the pews below. While they argued about the precise wording of various spells, servants began to infiltrate the chapel, setting up hundreds of candles to illuminate the enormous chamber. The sun went down, its last rays making the heraldic stained glass inserts in the south-west windows glow like jewels.
Presently the orchestra arrived and began tuning up, filling the chapel with discordant twangs, screeches, whistles, thumps, and honks. The singers - sixteen men and sixteen choirboys, along with four soloists, two of them women - filed into their places on either side of the pipe organ and started their vocal exercises.
Segundus, who had been watching all of this controlled chaos with growing excitement, suddenly noticed that Childermass was saying something under his breath.
"Are you casting another spell, John?"
"Just a final touch," said Childermass, with his dark smile. "Something to ensure that any thieves within these walls learn to take themselves lightly."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I don't want to tell you. It'll spoil the fun."
"John..."
"There's no time to explain it now, anyway. Look! Here they come."
The noise of the orchestra was buried beneath the sounds of people streaming in through the doors at either end of the chapel. Gentlemen in correct and somber evening dress provided an elegant contrast to the radiant and bejeweled ladies, all smiling and nodding to each other, and all pausing to drop their contributions on the silver plates as they passed by. Footmen were soon making discreet trips to the vestry to deposit the proceeds.
"Everything's holding up well so far," said Segundus, mentally running his fingers over the cords of the spells he and Childermass had woven. "I can feel nothing amiss."
"Likewise," said Childermass, watching the crowd milling about as it found its various seats.
After about fifteen minutes of this hubbub, the conductor appeared, and silence fell. He bowed once to the assembly, and then turned to face his musicians. Every eye was upon him. He raised his hands and stood poised for a moment (Like a man about to cast a spell, thought Segundus. No wonder I used to get the words "musician" and "magician" confused when I was a child.). Then, with a great sweeping motion, he brought the first Sinfonia to life.
Segundus had never experienced music in any context other than the drawing-room or the local church. Hearing this famous piece played by a full complement of professional musicians, in this massive and sacred space, entranced him instantly. The interweaving complexity of the sounds thrilled him. He almost fancied he could see the notes spiraling in front of him in a stately dance. "Beautiful," he breathed.
Then the tenor soloist rose to his feet and began to sing "Comfort ye, my people," and Segundus was lost to the world. The words poured into him like liquid gold, bright and heavy. He forgot where he was, and why he was there, and who he was with. He forgot who he was himself. There was nothing except the music.
No one can exist in a heightened emotional state indefinitely. Even Segundus, with his sensitivity to atmospheres, could not remain overwhelmed for the entire two hours of Messiah. He surfaced now and then to check on the magic or to glance at Childermass. Every time he did so, Childermass was already looking at him with his eternal air of enjoying a private joke at the world's expense. But before Segundus could ask what was so amusing, another aria or chorus would reach out and envelop him in glory once more. The voices of the singers - soaring high and pure, flowing full and smooth, booming deep and rich - brought back to him the majesty of old, old story. He was astounded that he had forgotten so much about it. The tragic human tendency to grow weary of wonders, he thought.
When the full choir burst into "Hallelujah," his skin tightened, the hair on his arms and neck prickled, and his eyes stung with involuntary moisture. Not until the chorus concluded in a roll of triumphant thunder from the timpani did he realize that he was standing up. His confusion increased when he saw that everyone else in the chapel was on their feet as well, clapping long and loud.
"Is it over?" he asked, wiping his eyes surreptitiously with the back of one hand.
"No, John," said Childermass, with that particular smile that only appeared when he was talking to Segundus. "Everyone is just taking the opportunity to stretch their legs a bit."
"I didn't even realize I was doing it."
"King George II would approve," said Childermass, and began relating an anecdote about how that king had started the tradition back in 1743 - but by this point the soprano aria "I know that my Redeemer liveth" had sunk into Segundus's heart like a spear, and he was gone again. Childermass laughed quietly, tugged his companion back into his seat, and settled down to enjoy the final third of the oratorio.
When the sublime vocal layerings of "Worthy is the Lamb" and the "Amen" had drawn to a close, and the chapel erupted into applause and cries of "Bravo!" for the final time, and the conductor and his musicians bowed themselves out, and the audience began trickling away, and the servants began trickling in - Segundus sighed and opened his eyes.
"Back with me, are you?" said Childermass, his elegantly clad legs crossed and propped up on the gallery railing. Just as his usual rumpled, unshaven appearance never wholly obscured his intelligence and capability, his fashionable attire could not override his perennial disregard for propriety.
"I believe I am." Segundus put a hand on Childermass's shoulder. "I am sorry. I haven't been much use this evening."
"I shouldn't worry about it," said Childermass.
"Good, good," said Segundus vaguely, then came fully back to the present. "Oh! Have we succeeded in defending the donations?"
"I don't know if they needed defending in the first place. We've only gotten the usual pickpockets," said Childermass, producing his pipe and tobacco pouch.
"Were they caught by the spells?"
"Aye. They're hanging about waiting for us to deal with them."
"They are? Where?"
Childermass jerked his head upwards. Perplexed, Segundus looked up at the gallery ceiling.
"Higher," grunted Childermass around the stem of his pipe, so Segundus, with dawning understanding and astonishment, raised his eyes to the massive vault of the chapel itself. Half a dozen men were floating around the central decorative medallion, bumping gently into each other as they flapped frantic limbs.
"John Childermass!" he exclaimed, leaping up. "Is this the spell you wouldn't tell me about?"
" 'Tis." He grinned. "What do you think of it?"
"How long have they been up there?"
"Oh, the first one floated up during 'Ev'ry valley,' and then a pair when the choir was doing the one about being sheep gone astray...then there was a bit of a break until the 'Hallelujah' chorus, when the last three went up one after the other. Presumably they were taking advantage of everyone standing."
"Why hasn't anyone noticed them?" asked Segundus, leaning out so far that Childermass stopt trying to light his pipe and grabbed him by the back of the coat.
"Steady on! They've been muffled, of course, what d'you take me for? And - "
"Oh yes! I can see the roses at their mouths!"
" - I also added a veil charm so that they're not noticeable unless you're looking for them. Would you kindly refrain from throwing yourself over the edge, sir?" He pulled hard on Segundus's coat, so that the other man sat down abruptly, landing in Childermass's lap. "That's better."
"Honestly, John," said Segundus with an unconvincing attempt at reproachfulness, sliding off onto the pew beside him. "There are still people about."
"The only thing is," said Childermass, going back to his pipe, "I'm not entirely sure how to get them down again."
"That does pose a problem."
By the time Lady Pole came looking for them, they had decided against simply reversing the original levitation charm (at least until they could get the subjects a non-fatal distance from the floor) and were attempting Pale's Last Grasp.
"All right - I think it's working - " Segundus was saying, as Childermass held one hand towards the chapel ceiling and muttered in Latin. Then he noticed Lady Pole. "My lady! Please stand back!"
She retreated a few steps. "What are you doing?"
"One moment, please, Lady Pole - oh Lord! Look out!" There was a series of thuds as the six men came sailing into the gallery and landed in a heap on top of the two magicians. To Lady Pole, who could neither hear nor see the cause of their collapse, it looked as though they'd suffered some kind of seizure.
"Mr Segundus! Mr Childermass! Are you all right?" she exclaimed, hurrying forward.
"Yes - yes - quite all right," said Segundus, extricating himself. Childermass followed his example, undoing the magic as fast as he could all the while. The camouflage evaporated before the levitation charm was undone, so Lady Pole was treated to the image of a handful of terrified men drifting slowly upwards before gravity suddenly reasserted itself.
"These are the ones you caught, then?" she said, cooly regarding the limp, groaning thieves draped over the backs of pews like forgotten coats.
"That's right, ma'am," said Segundus. "Though Mr Childermass says that they were not after the donations."
"These are simply common pickpockets," said Childermass. "I spotted them at work and dealt with them in my own way."
"What shall we do with them?" asked Lady Pole.
"Let 'em go," said Childermass. "They never got as far as taking any thing, and I'll wager they'll be too scared to do much filching for a while." (This turned out to be exactly four-sixths true. Two of the pickpockets carried on with their trade more circumspectly; three joined the navy; and the last became a Methodist minister.) He and Segundus helped the men into sitting positions and made sure they had not sustained any serious damage. Then Childermass gave them a short lecture on the error of their ways (first, stealing in the house of God; second, getting caught while doing it) and told them to get out of his sight.
"It looks as though your job is done here," said Lady Pole, watching the thieves stagger away. "The donations and subscriptions have been tallied by the hospital treasurer, and Sir Walter is even now seeing that the chest is being brought to the carriage that will bring it to the bank."
"Very good," said Segundus. Then his brow wrinkled in consternation and he turned to Childermass. "The carriage. Er - "
"D-! I beg your pardon, Lady Pole," said Childermass. "We didn't put any charms on the carriage!"
"Or the driver, for that matter. Where is the chest right now, my lady?"
"Sir Walter said they were going out the back way."
"Take us there, quickly!"
Spurred on by the urgency of Segundus's tone, Lady Pole swiftly led the way.
"You don't think Sir Walter has designs on the chest, do you?" she asked as they hurried down stairways and along corridors. "Let me assure you, the man is sea-green incorruptible."
"I don't suspect him of anything," said Childermass. "But speaking as a former member of the criminal classes, if I were going to make an attempt to steal the box, I would do it while it was in transit."
Lady Pole held her gown a bit higher and accelerated to a run.
Two minutes later they arrived at the back door, which stood open. Keeping to the shadows and trying to calm their breathing, they saw the footmen wrestling the chest through the carriage door (which was barely wide enough to accommodate it) while Sir Walter stood by, dispensing advice. The chest had gotten wedged at such an awkward angle that it could not be pushed any further.
"If someone could go around the other side and give it a tug," said one of the footmen, his voice strained with the effort of keeping the box steady, "that might do it."
"Well then, one of you do so!" said Sir Walter.
"Sorry, sir," said the other footman, "I dursn't - this blamed box is too heavy for one fellow to hold. If I let go Morton's likely to drop it."
"True enough, Philips," said Morton.
"What can we - ah! Cooper, come down here at once and lend a hand," said Sir Walter, addressing the coachman. He descended reluctantly, pulling his hat low over his face as he did so. Sir Walter, his eye drawn by the motion, exclaimed: "I say! You're not Cooper. Who are you, sir?"
At this point several things happened at once.
Morton and Philips, with a tremendous heave, finally got the chest all the way through the door.
The coachman who was not Cooper scrambled back up to his perch, seized the reins, and lifted his whip, ready to set the horses into motion. This plan was forestalled when he began steadily rising into the air, tethered to the earth only by his grip on the reins. The horses tossed their heads and shifted uneasily.
"The levitation spell!" cried Segundus, dashing forward. "It's got him!"
"I can see that!" Childermass shouted back, hard on his heels.
Sir Walter, a man of action, climbed up after not-Cooper and grabbed him by the ankles (those being the only part he could reach). "Hurry! Someone! Help!" he cried, as he began to be pulled skyward along with his captive.
Some quick spellwork by Childermass and Segundus, combined with the excellent reflexes of the footmen, brought the two men back to earth without injury. Since there had been no time for Childermass to cast any spells of silence or camouflage, no one had any trouble seeing the faux coachman or hearing the words with which he described his feelings.
"Shut it, you," said Childermass, pointing at him, "or I'll send you to the moon." The cursing ceased abruptly. "Now - what have you done with the driver?"
"I didn't hurt 'im," muttered not-Cooper sulkily. " 'e's tied up in there." He indicated a small outbuilding some twenty yards away. The footmen ran to investigate. They soon returned, supporting the drooping figure of the real coachman between them. He was minus his hat, coat, and whip, which had been taken by the impostor.
Sir Walter, who had been helped back to his feet by Lady Pole and Segundus, said: "Who put you up to this, you scoundrel?"
"I don't know, do I? Some cove paid me a guinea to nab this carriage after they'd put the box in, and said 'e'd give me another if I delivered it to 'im at Russell Square. That's all I know, I swear!"
When they could get him to divulge nothing further, Childermass and Segundus put their heads together with Sir Walter and Lady Pole for a brief conference. "What do you think - is he keeping something back?" said Lady Pole.
"No doubt," said Childermass, "but his story is likely enough to be true, as far as it goes. What's our next step?"
"That chest goes to the bank tonight," said Sir Walter emphatically.
"That is probably a good idea," said Segundus. "It doesn't look like Cooper - the real one - is in any condition to drive, however."
"I'll drive," said Childermass. "Mr Segundus - hop in. Sir Walter, Lady Pole, will you make sure that this sack of - this pretender is taken care of?" He kicked the prone figure of the failed larcenist, who kicked back half-heartedly.
"Certainly," said Lady Pole, taking Sir Walter's arm.
"Just don't get them confused," cautioned Segundus, getting into the coach and shutting the door behind him. "The real Cooper could probably use a cup of tea and a quiet lie-down, not a trip to gaol."
"I'm confident we can handle it, Mr Segundus," said Sir Walter.
...
The ride to the the bank went without incident - even though Childermass made sure to stop at Russell Square on the way, just in case anyone should come out and reveal themselves as the author of the plot. Not surprizingly, no one did.
When they had seen the chest safely installed in the bank vault and the receipt had been handed over, they returned to the Foundling Hospital. Sir Walter and Lady Pole met them in the vestry. They seemed to have been talking over the events of the evening together and were looking happy and animated.
"Thank you once more, gentlemen," said Sir Walter. "You have done us a great service tonight. I know the fee you were offered was not particularly impressive. I would be honored if you would allow me to increase the amount - "
"No, sir," said Childermass, holding up a hand to stop the man. "We waive the fee entirely. It was a privilege to be able to help. Our drop in the ocean, as it were."
Segundus looked over at him, startled.
"You must accept something. I insist!" said Lady Pole.
"Very well, since you put it that way..." Childermass smiled at Segundus. "Issue us a standing invitation to any future charity concerts in this lovely chapel, and we'll call it even."
"Consider it done," said Sir Walter. "Just - maybe next time, use some less dramatic spells for thief-taking?"
"Perhaps. But then, what fun is magic without a little drama?" said Childermass, and vanished into the mirror through which they had first arrived. Segundus tipped his hat apologetically and went after him.
They walked the Roads.
Segundus said: "I think they will be all right."
"Who?"
"Sir Walter and Lady Pole."
"Why wouldn't they be? They are rich, and in good health - "
"I mean the state of their marriage, John, as you well know. There's nothing like working together to strengthen a bond."
"As you well know."
They crossed the last bridge before the exit to Starecross.
"Do you think we shall ever discover who orchestrated the attempted robbery?" mused Segundus.
Childermass shrugged. "I doubt it. But I can't help but feel grateful to whoever it was. Thanks to them we were provided with an extremely entertaining evening."
"I didn't realize how much you enjoyed it until you asked to be invited back! Is it the music, or the chance to try out new spells that attracts you so?"
"As usual, what attracts me is - you," said Childermass. "Seeing you so transported was enough to move even my tattered soul. I cannot help but want another viewing."
"John. You are making me feel quite sentimental."
"Good."
...
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I got the idea for Childermass's levitation spell from G. K. Chesterton, who once said "Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly." I also quoted GKC (who might be the most quoteable man in literature) when Segundus was musing about how we "grow weary of wonders."
All that stuff about Handel and Coram and the Foundling Hospital is true.
Lady Pole calls Sir Walter "sea-green incorruptible." Thomas Carlyle is credited with first using this phrase about Robespierre in The French Revolution: A History, published 1837. It is unclear whether he initially heard it from Lady Pole, whom he encountered several times in a social context, or she from him.