A Conspiracy of Ravens

Ravenmaster Diary #214

Debs: Hiya everyone, it’s Debs again - Ravenmaster here at the Tower of London, day two hundreds and fourteen without the birds exiting the vicinity under my watch. The kingdom is safe! As the superstition goes. Touch wood.

Debs: As ever, the uniform is silly but I’m dead serious about these majestic birds. Today’s feeding schedule: apples, biscuits, a bit of raw beef, and one dead mouse that George had off the pest control team. He’s the real king, that one.

Debs: Corvus corax. People always ask me how clever they are. Clever enough to open up the zip on your bag and pick your pocket. Not that I want to put you off coming down to see us, at the Tower.

Debs: Here’s the handsome devil himself. This is George. He’s top of the hierarchy now, which means you’d better compliment his feathers when you visit, or he’ll remember your face. They can, you know!

Debs: So, we’re going to try a bit of vocal training. He’s been copying sounds - door squeaks, sneezes, babies crying - got them down to a T. So if we get a little “hello” today, that’d be -

George: A fine handmaiden you are, for the hawks of blood.

(George flaps)

Debs: George, you … okay. Well. That’s new.

(Debs laughs nervously)

Debs: Must have been taking some detours to Shaftesbury Avenue, on his flights.

George: It is a compliment.

Debs: A handmaiden, you said?

George: A fine one.

(Debs clears throat)

Debs: As you can see - plenty to see here at the tower. Do, er, pay us a visit. That’s all for the livestream today. Until next time.

George: Farewell, speaking stone.

Ravenmaster Diary #215

Debs: So, George … he’s been busy. Since handmaiden-gate last week - I have had a word with him about his language but I’m not sure it’s made any difference, I’ll be honest - he’s come up with one or two little observations. Maybe a bit rich for some people’s blood, but he is, er, a raven. Bit sharp, bit cryptic, but let’s see if he’s got one for us today.

Debs: Anything for the livestream today, my friend?

(George stares silently)

Debs: Anyone watching have any thoughts on our raven Einstein? I’ll take suggestions in the comments - gently, mind you, ravens can recognise numbers and follow cues, and I’m half minded he might be able to read. We’re well outside of my usual experience here, aren’t we, George?

(Debs motions to him)

George: The moniker of your lord of princes is not mine.

Debs: Sorry?

George: George is not my name.

Debs: Oh, er, I see.

(Pause)

Debs: What - what should we call you?

George: Eyy-ittle.

Debs: Well, I’m not sure how to caption that. (Hurriedly) But I’ll find out. (To camera) It’s very important to offer the greatest of respect to ravens. I do apologise, Eyy-ittle, that we have been addressing you incorrectly. What a palaver. This gets thornier by the day. Do you think he needs to sign a release form? Leave it with me. Probably time to head off.

Eyy-ittle: Farewell, owners of the speech of giants.

Debs: And while we’re at it, no, you cannot adopt him. Please stop asking.

Ravenmaster Diary #216

Debs: Bit of a development here at the Tower. You might have seen one or two pieces about Egill - turns out that’s how you spell it - our magnificent mystical fella. Lot of people coming down for what’s being called the “Prophecy Queue”. To be honest, I think we should rename it the “Roasting Row”. He’s got a beak on him, this one.

Debs: Be nice today, Egill. School groups!

Egill: Children of silk. Feathers too soft for flight.

Debs: With any luck, it’ll go over their heads.

Visitor: Say hello, birdy!

Egill: Your princes shall taste the apple of Hel before spring.

(Visitor guffaws)

Debs (grimacing): There is some light prophesying.

Visitor: Do me, do me!

Egill: Your beard could shelter crows, yet none dare rest there.

Visitor: You fly on air as insubstantial as a flea’s fart!

Egill: In the fight for the kingdom, your farts shall be louder than your battle horn.

Debs: It's fighting talk, folks. Come down at your own peril.

Ravenmaster Diary #217

Debs: All quiet here. I’m off shift technically, but schedules have gone out the window lately. Here he is with me, but he’s having a moment. Sky looks bruised tonight - that’s Egill coming out in me there, imagine trying to get away with saying that one, back in my army days? But, look at it. No other way to say it.

Egill: The handmaiden drinks of the wine of the army-god.

Debs: Less of the handmaiden, all right? Or I’ll leave you to scavenge your own dinners.

Egill: I set my spear to rest before you.

Debs: You’re quick, all right. (To camera) Is his way of speaking getting to you lot too? Never had much time for poetry but it’s cracked something open in me - I can’t undo it. All his little puzzles. Half the Internet seems to think I’ve trained him on the sly. Have I trained you, Egill?

Egill: I will only be tamed by the grave.

Debs: Can’t say more than that, can you?

This Morning UK: Caw, London’s Raven Speaks! And He’s Got Claws!

Presenter: Ravenmaster Debs, there have been some suggestions that this is all an elaborate stunt you’ve set up. Ravens are well known to mimic human speech. Have you been up in that tower, training him?

Debs: Honestly Dermot, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Egill does what he wants. He can speak for himself.

Dermot: And we certainly hope he will. Let’s put this to the test. Egill – you’ve had a lot to say recently. This is your chance to talk to the nation. Is there anything you want to say?

(Camera zooms)

(Egill caws)

(Egill looks to camera)

Egill: The crown sleeps while the speaking stones awaken.

(Silence)

Dermot: I was expecting an insult, so I suppose we got away with -

Egill: The tower remembers the builders, stone by stone.

(Pause)

Dermot: Lot of stone material this morning, Egill.

Egill: Your speech buffets the sail like squally winds, and your boat goes nowhere.

(Dermot chuckles, makes like he is wounded with a spear)

Debs: It’s safe to say he’s not a fan of the magazine format.

Dermot: Wouldn’t have expected anything else, Egill. Looks like we’ve already got some hashtags coming in though. After the break - will the #StonesAwaken? Gosh, this is exciting. (To Debs) This guy really knows how to go viral, eh?

Ravenmaster Diary #218

Debs: Ravenmaster Debs here. The ravens are still in the tower, the kingdom still stands, ha ha. Buses are on time - as on time as they ever were. It’s good to see you all coming along - here’s the line today!

(She pans to a line of people, standing in anticipation)

Debs: There’s a bit more order to it now, much appreciated. But I have to say - public service announcement, please don’t bring bread with you. It can cause malnutrition, digestive blockages, and even death from conditions like angel wing syndrome. My ravens won’t bother touching it, but thought you might enjoy the fun fact. They’re more likely to eat blood-soaked bird biscuits, but please don’t bring those either, I’ve got enough stored away to last until the coming of Christ.

Visitor, with a #StonesAwaken t-shirt: Egill, I wanted to say thank you.

Egill: These walls were raised by hands like yours.

Visitor: My friend here and I, we met, all thanks to you.

Egill: A conspiracy flies into the day’s fire.

Debs: A conspiracy of ravens, you see. A conspiracy, an unkindness - always felt they were hard done by on the collective noun front. The day’s fire: the dawn. I’m getting better at this.

Debs: For those of you finding solidarity in that stone emoji. What I will ask is that you do stick to our opening hours. We aren’t able to facilitate out of hours visits, and especially large groups. Link in bio about where to find your nearest gathering, as I have said unfortunately we cannot accommodate you here so please do take a look to avoid disappointment, and to keep the ravens safe.

(A flurry of ⚪ in the comments)

Debs: And listen up, I’ve been in the army long enough that you’d better do what I say, or Egill and I -

(She motions to him)

Debs: We will have bones to pick with you!

Egill: The Valkyrie moves through the blood-mist, honour-collector from the storm of shields.

Debs: Valkyrie. That’s more like it.