Third Dotterel was forced to acknowledge that he had been recognised; he lowered his delicate beak in a sad salute. Thoroughly despondent, he flapped his arms like wings and stepped on his way.

'So there he flies; we have done our duty' What duty? Gideon would have roared. 'To a tavern, Lambert!'

'Do we not wait, to fetch our fledgling home?'

'It will be morning before he obtains his release. Let him find his own way'

Lambert at least was beginning to regret landing the young scamp in more trouble. 'Oh you mean, let him answer to my mother on his own!' Lambert knew Bevan was frightened of Parthenope. 'We need not speak of it — '

'Too good to keep to ourselves!' replied Bevan cruelly.

Thick crowds prevented them from moving off immediately. They saw out the rest of the parade. Immediately after the dotterels tottered a fine mobile windmill, at which a fantastical knight and his squire tilted raggedly while they tried to avoid its whirling sails. Then the procession became more formal. Fourteen trumpeters cantered by with rich banners; next rode the marshal among forty attendants, all tricked out in coats and hose of scarlet, trimmed with silver lace; then a hundred mounted gentlemen passed, two abreast. Finally in the manner of a Roman Triumph, three decorated chariots bore along Peace, Law and Justice, queenly females all coruscating with stars and silver ornament, thrilling beneath the shadows and light of many torches.

The King and Queen were so impressed, they sent out to request that the entire carnival be led right around the tiltyard at the far end of Whitehall, and brought back again for a second viewing. It was a chilly night and the crowds outside began to lose interest. As soon as they gained space to move, Bevan Bevan and Lambert Jukes took themselves off. They picked their way through the fresh horse-dung along to the Strand, then headed east, back to their own turbulent city parishes where they could enjoy a tankard in a tavern more at ease than here.