The Morris Dancers' Union

"Now what?" It was the question on everybody's mind and the one which Cecil asked. The morris dancers, all of them, along with the Mayor, had retreated to the Three Fishes, a pub in Shrewsbury town centre. "We apologise," said Sylvia. "And do it properly," added Flo. Cecil drank some of his mild, looking pensive. "You're probably right. I've made a right hash of this haven't I? If the material wasn't his then it is either a strange coincidence or somebody planted it on the victim. Do we even know if it matches his outfit or did we just jump to a conclusion, because it was what we wanted to see?" "That guy's a menace," shouted Brian. "If it wasn't him then he probably will do something similar so we'll have to bring him in sooner or later." "Will we? It's not our job anymore. We're just interested bystanders now. What happens is for the Mayor to decide." All e...

Cecil hoisted the flag in his garden showing the symbol of the morris team. He knew that doing so went against his instructions but he had no time to waste. It wouldn't take too long for the Mayor to work out where the purple cloth came from so he had to act first to make sure that the culprit was apprehended. By late afternoon, all of the dancers had gathered in Cecil's kitchen and they were discussing what was the best thing to do. There was unrest amongst them about taking direct action. Flo had said that she didn't mind dancing out to give a show of strength, but apprehending a killer was a step too far without the proper authority. Others agreed but some felt that to do so would be the best way to have themselves reinstated. About half of the dancers were willing to carry on and confront the Lord of the Dance. The others wished them well but felt that they would be overstepping the line. Supporting the Mayor would be the best option and that is what they would d...

The third attack came as a shock to everyone. Not the ferocity or the mess which matched and possibly surpassed the other two, but the victim. John the Thatcher. He was found outside his house in a lane in the early hours of the morning. The milkman had spotted some feet near the bins. The sight hadn't curdled his milk but he felt as though it should have. The morning milk delivery would be late for the next few weeks as a result. The morris dancers found out through word of mouth that same afternoon as they were no longer in the loop. The rumour mill was working overtime. Three attacks, all of them known law breakers. All of them killed in the most brutal of manners. This time however, the story went that there was something different, a clue maybe. Something to go on, a lead, but what was it? Cecil made it his job to find out. With the morris dancers stood down, and nobody in their place, the role fell to the Morris Ring's official spokesperson for the county. In this ...

"I want to know everything about him. Who is he, where did he come from, what does he know, what was his first pet?" Cecil was sat in his kitchen talking to Dennis and Agnes. "He must train somewhere, why don't we know about it? We were truly shown up yesterday, out danced, out classed, out played. I want to know why. He isn't doing this just for fun." "Do you think that his arrival and the killings are just coincidence or do you think that they're connected in some way?" asked Agnes taking a sip of her tea. "That is something we must find out. I can't say he fits the profile as we don't have a profile. If he wants to derail us and fill our shoes then the deaths certainly work in his favour," said Cecil. "If he wants to do what we do then I expect he would want to solve the killings as well. If he did them then he won't be able to, unless he frames someone," Dennis pointed out. "Then we shoul...

It wasn't long before Cecil was eating his words. The first non-official dance out didn't go entirely to plan. As they could not dance in uniform they had shown up wearing an array of different outfits. Some in functional but bland tracksuits or leggings, some in jeans and past tour t-shirts. Only a few of the ladies were in dresses but they were fairly formal looking. The overall picture was one of a bunch of novices, and this was the source of the first confrontation. They had arrived in Upton Magna and were performing their usual set. There were a few people watching this time, mainly as they did not realise who the people were until they started dancing. As they set up for the third dance there was a shout from the small group of people who were still hanging around. "Hey, morris people. Sharpies! I thought that you had all stepped aside to let a real dancer show the people how it is done hey!" It was the Lord of the Dance, once again wearing his eye-catchi...

Silence. Their eyes said it all. Attendance at the weekly training session was the highest it had been for some time. Almost everyone had come along to hear the news first hand. They would usually call a meeting after practice, this time however the news couldn't wait. Cecil had broken the news in his usual direct manner. Sugar coating was not the order of the day. They just sat and looked around. Nobody really knew what to say. Nobody had expected this. "So now what?" asked Agnes eventually, breaking the silence. "I don't come here for the fun of it. I am dancer. I come here to serve, to do my duty."   "We all do," agreed Dennis. "I can't just switch off. My skills have been honed to react, not to sit back and wait. Are we supposed to just stay home and fight the urge to be heroes?" All eyes were on Cecil. Dennis and Agnes were speaking for everyone. When he eventually spoke, nobody interrupted, nobody questioned. He had...

Thursday came around all too quickly. Cecil was dressed in his finest breeches and whitest shirt. If he was going down, he was going down fighting. He sat outside of the chambers waiting to be called upon. Two other men were sat in line, all with a similar look of dread on their faces. One was wearing a top hat bedecked with flowers and a ruby red sash over each shoulder, the other wore a shirt made up of mainly black and purple rags with a lot of what looked like crow feathers in his well-scuffed hat. When Cecil was called, the other two wished him luck and gave him a 'rather you than me' look. He followed the clerk into the chamber and took his place before the Morris Ring. Two men and one lady sat behind a large wooden table looking at him over their respective spectacles as though it were a requirement of the process. A large painting of Cecil's namesake, Cecil Sharp, hung on the wall behind them all. His simple grey suit and dark surroundings helped focus the at...