The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [251]
There was a groan from the assembled agents.
“Okay, okay, keep your hair on—I only said ‘might.’ Samuel Johnson’s dictionary cured it after the 1744 outbreak and Lavinia-Webster and the OED keep it all in check, but we have to be careful of any new strains. I know this is boring, but I want every misspelling you come across reported and given to the Cat. He’ll pass it on to Agent Libris at Text Grand Central.”
He paused for effect and looked at us sternly.
“We can’t let this get out of hand, people. Okay. Item five: There are thirty-one pilgrims in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales but only twenty-four stories. Mrs. Cavendish, weren’t you keeping an eye on this?”
“We’ve been watching Canterbury Tales all week,” said a woman dressed in the most fabulously outrageous clothes, “and every time we look away, another story gets boojummed. Someone’s getting in there and erasing the story from within.”
“Deane? Any idea who’s behind all this?”
Daphne Farquitt’s romantic lead stood up and consulted a list.
“I think I can see a pattern beginning to emerge,” he said. “The Merchant’s Wife was the first to go, followed by The Milliner’s Tale, The Pedlar’s Cok, The Cuckold’s Revenge, The Maiden’s Wonderful Arse and, most recently, The Contest of Farts. The Cook’s Tale is already half gone—it looks as though whoever is doing this has a problem with the healthy vulgarity of Chaucerian texts.”
“In that case,” said the Bellman with a grave expression, “it looks like we have an active cell of Bowdlerizers at work again. The Miller’s Tale will be the next to go. I want twenty-four-hour surveillance, and we should get someone on the inside. Volunteers?”
“I’ll go,” said Deane. “I’ll take the place of the host—he won’t mind.”
“Good. Keep me informed of your progress.”
“I say!” said Akrid Snell, putting up his hand.
“What is it, Snell?”
“If you’re going to be the host, Deane, can you get Chaucer to cool it a bit on the Sir Topaz story? He’s issued a writ for libel, and not to put too fine a point on it, I think we could lose our trousers over this one.”
Deane nodded, and the Bellman returned to his notes.
“Item six: Now this I regard as kind of serious, guys.”
He held up an old copy of the Bible.
“In this 1631 printing, the seventh commandment reads: Thou shalt commit adultery.”
There was a mixture of shock and stifled giggles from the small gathering.
“I don’t know who did this, but it’s just not funny. Fooling around with internal Text Operating Systems might have a sort of mischievous appeal to it, but it’s not big and it’s not clever. The occasional bout of high spirits I might overlook, but this isn’t an isolated incident. I’ve also got a 1716 edition that urges the faithful to sin on more, and a Cambridge printing from 1653 which tells us that The unrighteous shall inherit the Kingdom of God. Now listen, I don’t want to be accused of having no sense of humor, but this is something that I will not tolerate. If I find out the joker who has been doing this, it’ll be a month’s enforced holiday inside Ant & Bee.”
“Marlowe!” said Tweed, making it sound like a cough.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Bad cough—sorry.”
The Bellman stared at Tweed for a moment, laid down the offending Bible and looked at his watch.
“Okay, that’s it for now. I’ll be doing individual briefings in a few minutes. We thank Mrs. Dashwood for her hospitality, and Perkins—it’s your turn to feed the Minotaur.”
There was a groan from Perkins. The group started to wander off and talk to one another. The Bellman had to raise his voice to be heard.
“We go off shift in eight bells, and listen up—!”
The assembled Jurisfiction staff stopped for a moment.
“Let’s be careful out there.”
The Bellman paused, tingled his bell and everyone returned to their tasks. I caught Tweed’s eye; he smiled, made a pistol out of his hand and pointed it at me. I did the same back and he laughed.
“King Pellinore,” said the Bellman to a disheveled white-haired whiskery gentleman in half-armor, “there has been a sighting of the Questing Beast in the backstory of Middlemarch.”
King