FicWad

After his first battle, Conan is left shaking. He is still fairly shy, waiting until after dinner, when all of the men are sitting around the fires, to bathe. He stumbles back to camp and straight into Captain Fitzmaurice, whose initial reaction is one of irritability.

“Hey! Watch where ye’re-”

“Terribly sorry, Captain Fitzmaurice, sor.”

“Conan, I didn’t recognize ye. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve shouted. Are ye alright?”

“No, sor.”

“Come here. Tell me what’s wrong. Ye’re shakin’ as if ‘twere freezin’. Come sit by the fire an’ stay a while.”

“I can’t, sor. I have to report to the eastern edge of camp. Tonight’s me first watch.”

“Ye’re in no state to be out all night. Ye’ve a few more hours ‘fore ye need to be there. Try an’ get some sleep. I’ll be back from town to wake ye in time. I promise.”

“Thankee, Captain.”

Conan goes back to his tent to sleep but lies awake terrified instead. Meanwhile, Captain Fitzmaurice goes into town to a general store where he buys a hip flask and enough whiskey to fill it, a box of cigarettes, a book of matches, and a small book of risqué pictures, which are common and necessary supplies that young enlisted men never remember to bring with them when they leave home. He also stops in a tavern and buys a bottle of ale and a meat pie for Conan, since he did not eat dinner. He returns to his tent for about an hour, announcing that he may not be back that night, and goes to see the Colonel.

“Colonel, I must request tomorrow off.”

“Absolutely not, Captain.”

“But, sor-”

“Request denied. Return to your tent.”

“Sor, I’d like to take over Private Conan Callahan’s watch tonight.”

“Ye’re an officer. Ye don’ stand outside all night in the cold. Ye’re too damned important. Besides, Conan needs to learn right quick what’s expected o’ him.”

“Sor, have ye seen him? He hasn’t eaten all day; he jumps if the wind blows, he’s not in his head, an’ he’s shakin’ somethin’ awful. He’s in no fit state to be out there.”

“I will not have a Captain standing out on watch in place o’ me little brother, a Private, who has been spoiled enough already.”

“If I find an enlisted man to do it-”

No. Ye’re not to bribe the enlisted men.”

“But, sor, I-”

“No, Fitzmaurice, no. Conan needs to learn to do his job. Quite honestly, I should be punishin’ him for what happened the other day, or have ye forgotten that he was found unconscious an’ drunk in the officers’ quarters when he ought to have been workin’?”

“I have not forgotten, sor. Please, go talk to him. He needs an older brother.”

“Out here, I’m not his brother. I’m his Colonel, an’ he’d best learn to see it that way.”

“Sor, jus’ this once, take pity on him.”

“Absolutely not! I take pity on one, they’ll all want it, an’ pretty soon I’ll be leadin’ a sewin’ circle rather’n the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry. Need I remind ye what Colonel Hagan o’ the Fifty-First Heavy Infantry says about us every time we meet wi’ Brigadier General Morrow?”

“That half-Scotch bastard ought to shove his opinions up his arse. Jus’ because we’ve swords not maces an’ hammers, he thinks he’s better’n us. I’d like to see him kill a man without crushin’ his face beyond recognition.”

“Are ye done?”

“Aye, sor.”

“This is why ye’re not a Colonel, an’ let me remind ye that your family is Anglo-Irish. I try awful hard not to hold that ‘gainst ye, but ye make it very difficult, Fitzmaurice. Now go.”

“Sor-”

“Go.”

Captain Fitzmaurice goes to Conan’s tent to wake him half an hour before he must report. He finds Conan with his eyes wide open laying on his back and shaking. Conan’s tent mates salute Captain Fitzmaurice. He quickly returns their salute and tells them to continue as they were.

“Conan…Conan…Conan!”

“Sor…”

“Jaysus, Conan! Please, get up.”

“Can’t…”

“At least sit. Drink this. ‘Twill help.”

“What is it?”

“Whiskey. What else?”

“Thankee, Captain.”

“Ye need to get dressed an’ come wi’ me. I brought ye dinner. Jus’ hurry.”

Captain Fitzmaurice brings Conan to the spot where he is to relieve the night watchman for his graveyard shift watch. The church bells in town toll midnight, their many, eerie tones pealing and chiming at once, the sound barely audible in camp, and Conan is still shaken, though not by far as badly as before.

“Ye have to stay on this edge o’ camp unless ye see somethin’ or someone ye shouldn’t. I couldn’t get permission to take your watch, an’ I can’t stay in camp an’ sleep tomorrow like ye will. If anyone finds me, lie an’ say ye didn’t see me here. I could get in a lot o’ trouble for this, an’ ye’d get in more. I’ll be sleepin’ under me blanket o’er there by the medical tent if ye need anythin’. I’ll get up to check on ye.”

“Aye, sor.”

“Good luck. Come find me if ye have any trouble. I’m a light sleeper. Oh, an’ these are for ye,” Captain Fitzmaurice says, handing Conan the book, cigarettes, matches, flask, and dinner.

“I don’ smoke, sor.”

“Ye’ll learn. Trust me. Most every enlisted man does, since ‘tis about the only thing to do out here. If ye smoke out here at night, light it behind cover or wi’ your back turned, an’ cup your hand o’er the end. See them trees there?”

“Aye.”

“There’s riflemen an’ archers what won’t hesitate to shoot ye. One shot, ye’re dead.”

“Should I wear armor?”

“No. Ye’re to wear your combat uniform, no armor, coat if ‘tis cold. Good luck.”

“Thankee, sor.”

After a few hours of sleep. Captain Fitzmaurice awakens to the sound of footsteps in mud. The sucking sound is unmistakable, and he knows that many people are headed toward camp. He is an extremely light sleeper. Even Conan, who is wide awake, does not notice. Captain Fitzmaurice rouses himself immediately and runs to find Conan. He tells Conan to wake the camp, starting with the Colonel. Conan, extremely nervous, lights his first cigarette clumsily, flicking his match in full view, forgetting what Captain Fitzmaurice taught him. Captain Fitzmaurice throws Conan out of the way then falls heavily. Conan runs, still in shock to the Colonel’s tent. He shakes his brother by the shoulder, and the Colonel bolts awake. When he hears the news, he sends Conan to warn the other watchmen and personally warns the Majors. Each man warns his direct subordinates until every Private knows, and every absence is reported back up to the chain of command. Only Captain Fitzmaurice is not in his bed.

All of a sudden, the camp lights its fires and signals the neighboring units in the area to the danger. They fight well into the day until the enemy again retreats. Conan is no longer afraid. He is furious. At the end of the day, nobody has seen Captain Fitzmaurice. Colonel Callahan goes to the medical tent as soon as he hears the news from the spies, and he pulls Brendan Sparrow aside. The doctor is, at first, outraged that the Colonel would interrupt his medical practice, but the Colonel feels that he needs to hear the truth.

“Colonel, I’ve patients I must help. Unless ye’re hurt too, ‘twill have to wait.”

“I’m sorry, doctor. This cannot wait. I ought to tell ye meself. I’d rather ye hear it from me than through the men. Ye won’t see Captain Fitzmaurice alive again. We were attacked by a band of scouts. They were sent to find an officer an’ capture him. Fitzmaurice was shot in the chest by a sniper’s arrow. He’s who they found. The battle was to cover his abduction so we couldn’t follow them back. I’m sorry.”

“How bad was he hit?”

“He won’t bleed out. Not with it there, at least. If they do damage removing it, he might. I’ve no way o’ knowin’. They captured him. They’ll torture him. They might kill him. If not he’ll be enslaved or imprisoned. Either way, he’ll die in captivity. Ye’ll ne’er see him alive again. Most o’ the injuries here seem to be minor. We’re used to dealin’ wi’ those wi’ no doctor. Finish up here an’ come to me tent. There’s somethin’ I want ye to do. Bring Captains McEvoy, O’Dowd, an’ Liam, Major Moynihan, an’ Fitzmaurice’s dress uniform, jus’ the hat an’ jacket. The lads’ll tell ye what. They did this for Reilly not long ago.”

That evening, just before dinner, Captains McEvoy, O’Dowd, and Liam, Major Moynihan, Doctor Sparrow, and Private Callahan gather in the Colonel’s tent. The three Captains and the Major have been through this before when Captain Reilly died. They look at Doctor Sparrow as if he were Fitzmaurice, hoping that their comrade could be with them again. He recognizes the look from seeing the families of dying patients , and he genuinely wishes there was something he could do to help. The Colonel clears his throat.

“Bow your heads, men.

“Ár nAthair, atá ar neamh, go naomhaítear t’ainm, go dtaga do ríocht, go ndeintear do thoil ar an dtalamh mar a deintear ar neamh. Ár n-arán laethúil tabhair dhúinn inniu, agus maigh dhúinn ár gcionta mar a mhaithimíd do chách, agus ná lig sinn i gcathú, ach saor sinn ólc. I n-ainm an athar, agus an mhic, agus an sprid naoimh, áiméin.”

“Áiméin,” chorus the men.

“I have jus’ received word that Captain Fitzmaurice has died. It has been confirmed that he was tortured an’ that he died durin’ an interrogation. We know he was never broken. Private Callahan was wi’ me when I learned this, an’ he asked to be here as well. We are lucky we know, for many never do, an’ we are lucky he died so soon, as many are prisoners for years or become slaves. He was a proud man. He was spared that indignity, at least. I personally wish I’d not been so rude to him last night. I don’ wanna know what he was doin’ on the eastern edge o’ camp last night, an’ I trust I won’t find out, but he fell savin’ Conan’s life. That an officer’d take an arrow to the chest for a Private he’d only jus’ met is the highest degree o’ loyalty this unit has ever seen. Doctor Sparrow, please hand me his jacket. Thankee. For Captain William Fitzmaurice, the most loyal man I ever knew, I affix a medal for loyalty. I affix a medal for valor next to the medal for loyalty because, as Conan told me, he knew he was starin’ Death in the face when he was hit, yet he did not turn away. For Captain O’Dowd, I give ye the same for savin’ your friend behind enemy lines. Captain McEvoy, I owe ye this as well for gettin’ yourself captured rather’n sacrificin’ your men. For Captains McEvoy an’ Fitzmaurice, I award ye each a medal for undergoin’ torture in the name o’ war an’ another for never breakin’. They broke your bodies, but ye never told. Lastly, for Captain Fitzmaurice, I award the highest honor given to any soldier. I give ye the on’y thing I’ve left to give. I give ye this medal because ye died savin’ your country. This is the one medal I hoped I’d never give ye. Doctor Sparrow, hand me his hat.”

Colonel Callahan places a single red feather in the band around Captain Fitzmaurice’s brimmed dress hat, and the men bow their heads in silence. Colonel Callahan leads them outside and tells the bugler to play the funeral cadence as he personally lowers the flag to half-mast. The flag is only lowered for any national hero who dies by the entire Army, for a commander by the units below him, or by a single unit for a fallen officer. It stays lowered for a week. Everyone knows who is missing. Everyone knows that Captain Fitzmaurice is gone. Everyone now knows that his death has been confirmed. The men file into dinner strangely silently. Nobody says a single word during dinner, and every man wears his full dress uniform without being told out of respect. A Lieutenant who is a priest by profession says a funeral mass after dinner and invites anyone who wishes to stay to pray the rosary with him. Liam leaves after the funeral mass itself and before communion. As a bastard child who was never baptized, he is unfit to receive Holy Communion, and he feels out-of-place during such events. Every man grieves in his own way. Liam goes to the makeshift stable and feeds and grooms Captain Fitzmaurice’s stallion, which is a pale gold color with a white mane and tail, almost identical to Doctor Sparrow’s horse in the next stall. Doctor Sparrow finds him as Liam is finishing braiding the horse’s mane and tying black bows on the ends. He has already braided the tail into a bob.

“His name’s The Admiral,” says Doctor Sparrow quietly.

“Quare name for a horse”

“He won’t be happy once he figures Billy’s gone. He was a present for Billy’s tenth birthday from me da’.”

“Ye must’ve been close.”

“He was a part o’ me family, more or less. He’d no da’ o’ his own. His ma’s never told a soul who his da’ is, not even him. His ma’s a maid. On’y servant for a middle-class family in District Five Bridgeton. Been so since before her son was born. They figured she was married, an’ though the maids aren’t allowed to marry in Highton, there’s no law against it, jus’ house rules, an’ they never asked, so she kept her job. She had to cook an’ clean, do the laundry an’ mend the clothes, an’ watch the children for this family. For a short while when he was a babe, a wealthy girl dressed him in skirts an’ played wi’ him like a doll whene’er his ma’ put him down. This was before he could walk. She couldn’t bring him up there wi’ her once he could. Too much trouble, he was.

“Once he got big enough she couldn’t bring him, she’d leave him locked in a room alone all day wi’ naught to do an’ none for company. What choice did she have? ‘Twas that or an orphanage, an’ she didn’t want no son o’ hers in an orphanage. Once he was old enough for school, she’d send him off ‘afore dawn, an’ he’d wander the streets alone ‘til school started. He only ever ate dinner when her employer let her take home the extras. Once in a while he’d get a crust o’ bread from some housewife takin’ pity on his poor soul. He’d get the vegetables what fell from the vendors’ carts. There he was four-years-old an’ already a beggar. All his clothes was rags. All the money his ma’ made went to her work dress, their rent, an’ the liquor. She’s always been a bad one for the drink, has Ms. Fitzmaurice.

“‘Twas such a mornin’ when he’d be out on the street ’afore dawn when me own ma’ happened to see him as she was takin’ our laundry to the back. We weren’t rich. Far from it. We lived in District Thirteen Bridgeton, same street, in fact. Me parents still live in that house. Me da’d been in the pub business for a while, but he left ‘round the time I was born an’ became a brewer. Much safer. He made good, honest money. Me ma’ was a cook over in District Five, but she was on’y gone while I was in school. She did the house chores before an’ after, an’ we got by. Me da’ was on his way out the door to go to work when me ma’ saw Billy there in the street. She knew he lived down the street. Everyone knew whose son he was. We was all poor, but any o’ the families in our street would’ve helped her had she but asked. Well, me da’ saw me ma’ standin’ there on the step, wash basket in hand, not movin’, an’ he followed her eyes. He saw where she was lookin’. He whistled, an’ Billy ran. He shouted ‘twas alright, an’ me ma’ dropped her wash an’ bent down an’ picked him up an’ brought him inside. She introduced me da’, herself, me, an’ Bridget, who was jus’ a baby at the time. She was waitin’ for his ma’ when she got home that night. His ma’ brought no dinner for him as usual. Me ma’s always been a kind woman, an’ she told Ms. Fitzmaurice to let her son come to our house to eat an’ that ‘twas no trouble a’ ‘tall. She even gave Billy new clothes. Billy probably spent more time at me parents house than his own. O’er the years, we got to be like brothers.

“We even share a birthday, Founders Day. Everyone thought we were twins by different mothers, since we look like twins, an’ we’ve the same birthday. When we turned ten, me da’ gave us each a horse. They’re sired by the same stallion to different mares. He boarded Billy’s horse in our stable ‘til Billy an’ me left home. Me own horse is The General. Billy’s is The Admiral. Billy’s eyes are blue. Mine are green. He wore blue pants an’ jackets, an’ I wore green. ‘Tis how our mothers an’ schoolmaster told us apart. If you figure that armies wear green an’ navies wear blue, an’ the head of an army’s a general an’ a navy an admiral, ye have the reason why me da’ named ‘em that. ‘Sides, the two o’ them look about as much alike as Billy an’ I do…did. He won’t look like me for much longer, though, not once the worms get to him. ‘Tis lucky we don’ have his body. His ma’ could ne’er afford to bury him. I’ve lost not only a friend but a brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

The two men walk in silence in the woods. Liam absentmindedly picks up two sticks along the way. He stops in the supply tent and hammers them together, figuring that the Colonel would not mind one nail going missing for a memorial. When nobody is looking, he looks at and memorizes Fitzmaurice’s name pin. He carves the letters into the horizontal stick with a pocket knife. For the first time, he writes without Kerrigan’s help. He stains the carved letters with his own blood and finds Conan and a mallet. Conan points to the spot where Captain Fitzmaurice fell, and Liam hammers the cross in place by the bloodstain, bows his head, and blesses himself.

The Colonel assembles several Captains, Major Moynihan, Doctor Sparrow, and a few Lieutenants in a bar called The Rebel Soldier. They drink together all night as a wake for Captain Fitzmaurice. Liam carries Doctor Sparrow over his shoulder, since the doctor is asleep. By the simple cross, many men have placed notes, flowers, and votives. It has been dry, so his blood is still clearly visible on the ground. After putting Doctor Sparrow to bed, Liam makes Captain Fitzmaurice’s bed and hangs his dress uniform over his bunk. Liam goes into town and knocks on the cabin door. Kerrigan answers in her nightgown, obviously having just risen from bed.

“Liam, what a surprise!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I need to talk to someone. I know ‘tis late, but-but-but Captain Fitzmaurice is dead.”

Jack bolts upright in bed and exclaims, “Dead?!”

“Aye. We got word he was tortured to death.”

“Liam, sit down and have a drink. You look awful,” says Kerrigan.

“Jaysus!” exclaims Jack. “I only met the man once as an adult, but I paid his way through school as a favor to Sparrow’s da’. Brian an’ Kelly Sparrow more or less took him in. I bet Brendan Sparrow took it hard,” says Jack.

“Aye. He’s an awful mess. He’ll not be fit to operate for some time, weeks maybe. Fitzmaurice is- was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, along wi’ Doctor Sparrow an’ yourselves. He was shot savin’ a Private, General Callahan’s son Conan. I miss Fitzmaurice more’n anyone who’s gone before. Sure, I miss Reilly, but Reilly, I hardly knew ye. He died almost as soon as he made Captain. Sure, I miss Boland’s laugh, but he’ll be back once he can walk again. Fitzmaurice was a man I respected. He showed me around when I firs’ got to the Thirteenth, introduced me to the officers, taught me who ye could drink wi’ an’ who’s a real amadán. He was a great Captain, an’ he was the last man who deserved that fate. Sure, he liked to joke, but don’t we all? Fitzmaurice, I miss more’n anyone because Fitzmaurice I’ll ne’er see again.”

“Liam, your Colonel needs ye. Major Moynihan needs ye. Captains O’Dowd an’ McEvoy need ye. McEvoy mus’ be livin’ a nightmare knowin’ from experience what they must’ve done to Fitzmaurice ‘afore he died.”

Colonel Callahan has avoided filing the paperwork on Captain Fitzmaurice’s death. He does not want to acknowledge that Captain Fitzmaurice is dead or that he will not be returning the next day with a sarcastic comment or personal jibe aimed at his superiors. Finding that liquor has somewhat numbed him and having no more excuses, he takes the form from his desk drawer, fills his inkwell, readies his sand and blotter, sharpens his quill, and faces the grim truth

Report of Death

Name: Fitzmaurice, William

Rank: Captain

Date: 24 April 1626

Cause of Death: Unknown. Torture involved.

Body: Not Recovered

Next of Kin: Elizabeth Fitzmaurice (mother)

Dependants: none

Hometown: Bridgeton, District Thirteen

Commanding Officer’s Notes (to be read at funeral): Captain Fitzmaurice was a good officer and a great man. The entire unit mourns his passing and offers his mother and friends in Bridgeton our condolences He was well-loved by his fellow officers. He died long before his time, so his death is doubly sad for those of us who served with him. He died a valiant death in enemy territory, so his body could not be recovered, but we send back his dress uniform to remember him by along with his belongings and a copy of his will so you need not search.

Signed: Colonel Owen Callahan

Colonel Callahan leaves the completed form on his desk on top of other paperwork, corks his inkwell, puts his pen in its side, affixes his and the unit’s seals, and extinguishes his candle. He removes his belt, lays his two pistols, nicknamed Peace and Love, next to his rifle, and hangs his sword horizontally along the tent beam above his bed. He takes a sip of poitín, removes his boots, then jacket, pants, tie, and shirt. He then dons his nightshirt before crawling into bed. As soon as he lays down, he hears gunshots in camp. He jumps up, grabs his pistols, and runs outside in stocking feet and his nightshirt, but he sees nothing, and the men on watch say they only saw Doctor Sparrow leave toward town to meet the train that carries returning troops, mail, and supplies, and which runs at odd hours.

Doctor Sparrow goes to buy medical supplies from the train before the other doctors arrive in the morning. He then goes to a gambling house which is home to a basement fight club where both organized fights and challenges occur nightly. The fighters are Werewolvish expatriates. He offers three of them, who are not particularly bruised or bloody, a princely sum to find Captain Fitzmaurice’s body and bring it back across the border. He then seeks a Demon who runs an illegal service bringing the dead back to life. The practice is strictly controlled, with a myriad of laws regarding who can be reanimated how long after death and by whom as well as requiring the process to be monitored in official records. Brendan Sparrow knows that he is breaking several laws, but he does not care. He merely had to ask in a fairly ill-reputed bar to get the Demon’s name and location. Money is not an object. He was given a princely sum upon his knighting, and his wife will understand that it was for Brendan. She knew him as well many years earlier. He knows that she will understand the money spent as well as his arrest and imprisonment, should his actions lead to discovery and prosecution.

Colonel Callahan returns to bed only to be woken by a Lieutenant an hour later. The Lieutenant himself is in his nightshirt, having been woken by one of Conan’s tent mates reporting Conan missing. Enlisted men are forbidden from leaving camp alone after dark. They must be together and report it to an officer because far too many enlisted men do not return in time in the morning. No other men are missing, and a search of camp and the adjoining woods by four Lieutenants yields no result. The Colonel orders the men on watch to keep an eye out for him and detain him should he return. He also tells the Lieutenant and Conan’s tent mates not to tell him who reported it. Bad tempers run in the Callahan bloodline, a trait inherited from their father and uncles. Impatience, drunkenness, and a certain disregard for authority also run in their bloodline, and the Colonel thinks he knows where his brother went. Colonel Callahan, greatly angered by his brother’s deeds, storms off to bed, hoping his uneasy slumber will not be disturbed again.

Doctor Sparrow stands in the forest by the border north of the camp of the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry. He has been waiting for well over two hours in the cold night air, and he has gone through most of his cigarettes in the time it has taken the Werewolves to return. Money is a great incentive, though he has yet to give them the fortune he promised, since he believes in deed before payment. A Demon capable of reanimation stands with him. He withholds payment from the Demon as well. The Demon stands in silence as the three Werewolves approach with a cart. One of them pulls back the cloth on top, and Brendan gazes upon his friend’s face. They tell him that they had to lie and say they were brothers and he was their slave, taken by the Vampire Army and impressed into service and that they heard he was taken into custody and wanted to at least give him a proper burial since he had been a good slave. They bear the body to just outside the camp for him, and Brendan nods and pays them each in turn, realizing that, at any time, any of them could easily kill him for his money. The last to be paid lifts Billy’s body out of the cart and places it on the ground at Brendan’s feet, respectfully blessing himself as he does so. His companions bow their heads and do the same before they depart.

Brendan pulls back the blanket to see his old friend. Billy’s face is streaked with dirt and blood. His blond hair is stained dirt brown, and his clothing is dyed red with his own blood. He was tortured, killed, and thrown into a mass grave. Amazingly, his glasses, though dirty, are intact. Brendan announces his intention to clean Billy’s body and bring him clean clothing before his reanimation. Brendan returns to camp silently and takes rags, blankets, a pillow, and soap as well as his doctors kit with opium and a syringe, and a bottle of whiskey. He slips silently into the forest.

Conan sneaks back to camp after the bar he is in closes for the night. He stumbles back silently and is apprehended at the edge of camp by a sergeant on watch. The sergeant attempts to overpower Conan in order to detain him, but Conan breaks the man’s nose and runs. Awoken a third time by the commotion, Colonel Callahan again gets out of bed and runs into the compound. He cuts off his brother’s escape route and knocks him down with a powerful blow to the side of his face. Conan, like his father and brothers is violent when he is drunk, and Owen knows this, but Owen is older, faster, stronger, and far more experienced. He personally puts his younger brother in leg irons and iron handcuffs and brings him to one of only two buildings in the camp, an impromptu jail of sorts, the other building being a shack for the kitchen, food storage, and root cellar. Colonel Callahan assigns the watchmen to check on Conan periodically but orders them not to speak to him. The Colonel returns to bed for the last time that night.

Brendan finally removes the blanket completely and sees the most gruesome sight he could imagine. He takes Billy’s own knife and removes his clothing with it, keeping his scalpel blade sharp and sterile for strictly surgical use. Two Werewolvish coins fall out of Billy’s dress jacket, as Brendan expects, two coins to pay the boatman, which were placed on Billy’s eyes during his burial. They even extend this courtesy to slaves, criminals, and enemy combatants. When Brendan sees the evidence of violence on Billy’s body, he runs to the stream to vomit. Even the Demon brought to reanimate Billy flinches and remarks that he has never seen anything so gruesome. Two long strips of skin have been removed from his back, presumably to make a whip, as that is a Werewolvish tradition. All of his teeth and nails have been removed, and all of his fingers and toes have been broken. His limbs have all been broken multiple times. There are many cuts and burns on his body. His wrists and ankles show the marks of his restraints. There is a small hole in Billy’s chest above well above his heart from the arrow. It probably rendered his shoulder useless. Brendan gently washes his dear friend’s body and face and makes a bed by the river for him.

The Demon, whose grasp of the Vampiric language is less than wonderful, says “He die again unless he is giving Vampire blood immediately, and he be in much pain. He die horribly. I will suggest the mixing of your blood with the opium. He will not to be able to swallow much blood it take.”

Brendan sheds a single tear on his friend’s face. He ties off his left arm and removes about an ounce of blood using a hypodermic syringe from his doctor’s bag. He puts a rag into his friend’s mouth because he knows that his friend will begin to bleed massively as soon as he is reanimated and that he will begin to scream and may choke on his own blood. He almost certainly died of either massive internal hemorrhaging or bleeding to death externally. He was almost definitely in shock when he died. Brendan looks up and nods to the Demon. Predictably, Brendan has to muffle Billy’s screams so that he does not wake several camps of sleeping soldiers. He muffles the screams with his left hand and hastily injects blood and opium with the other. He then stands and pays the Demon, who then departs. Brendan stays with his friend and watches over him as the cuts, burns, and horrific bruises heal and dew forms on the grass around them. Brendan gives his friend more blood and opium throughout the day, and he does not leave his side. His fingernails and the skin on his back return by noon, and his bones slowly begin to heal. Billy hates needles, but his friend insists that injections are necessary. Doctor Sparrow has a gentle, but firm hand and bedside manner, but his dear friend has never been the patient at the receiving end of the good doctor’s mercy and stubbornness.

At noon, Colonel Callahan parades his younger brother to the center of camp. He does not want to hurt him, but he must teach him obedience, and he must treat him like any other Private. He ties him shirtless to the post and takes his whip from his trunk. He regrets having to do this, but he has no choice. Conan does not flinch or plead for mercy. Instead, he takes his brutal scourging silently, as he is expected to do, his face showing no emotion. His arms, like those of his older brothers and father bear double bands of Celtic knot work, though his, unlike those of his brothers and father, are jet black and fresh, done one puncture at a time by a strange man over the course of a full day on his father’s last trip to Bridgeton. It is as much a Callahan family tradition as a young man’s first sip of poitín. Colonel Callahan shows his brother no mercy, though he definitely stops before Conan is in any real danger.

By nightfall, Billy is completely healed. A knee-deep blanket of fog rolls in shortly after sunset. Billy gets a devilish idea to surprise the Thirteenth with his return, so Brendan brings him his dress uniform, flour, and The Admiral with dinner. Billy’s horse, happy to see his master, stomps and prances delightedly. Billy saddles him, and Brendan returns to camp, just as the men are leaving the mess hall. The huge moon hangs low in the sky, and Billy rides into camp up the little path from the stream behind the officers’ quarters, twigs in his hair, flour on his face, and blood dripping from his mouth, screaming and howling, wearing his dress uniform and the hat with the red feather, which signifies that he died in the line of service. A white feather would mean an honorable discharge, and a black feather would mean a dishonorable discharge. He stops in the center of camp, The Admiral rears back, and Billy throws his head back and laughs, maniacally at first, then normally, showing everyone that he is indeed alright and having a great time at their expense. The enlisted men and officers alike greet him warmly, but the Colonel has a very serious expression as he makes his way to the center of the crowd.

Colonel Callahan calls Doctor Sparrow and Captain Fitzmaurice into his tent and says, “Are the two o’ ye aware o’ how many laws ye’ve broken, military an’ civilian? Doin’ a Private’s duty, disobeyin’ a direct order, wearin’ a dead man’s uniform, conduct unbecomin’ an officer, fraternizin’ wi’ enlisted men, breach o’ peace, disorderly conduct, an’ servin’ after reanimation, Captain. Doctor, ye’re guilty o’ hirin’ enemy nationals, disturbin’ the dead, illegal reanimation, reanimatin’ a soldier wi’ intent to have him serve in the war what killed him, petty theft, theft from a front-line unit’s supply, breach o’ peace, an’ disorderly conduct. I’m glad ye did it. I’m glad to see ye back, Fitzmaurice. Keep the medals, but get rid o’ that stupid feather. I’m real sorry for what I said to ye the other night, Fitzmaurice. Now go back outside. The men missed ye.” The Colonel takes the form he wrote reporting Billy’s death and burns it in the flame of the candle by the light of which he wrote it. Perhaps a prayer in Hell is worth something, he thinks.