FicWad

Early in the morning, Liam wakes from a restless sleep to find Kerrigan already awake and dressed in an elaborate gown. She is dressing her baby in a tiny suit, her back turned to Liam. He turns to his bedside table and sees a tray of food, still hot.

“Did I wake you?” asks Kerrigan without turning to face Liam.

“Not a’ ‘tall. Do all babies cry so much?”

“They do not. He is not feeling well because he is beginning to teethe, and it makes him rather fussy, chiefly in the early morning hours, though he is quiet most of the day. I am truly sorry if he woke you.”

“I wasn’t sleepin’ anyhow.”

“You are nervous. It is natural on your wedding day. Eat something. You will feel better.”

“Not hungry.”

“You are just like Jack. Please do eat something, though, Liam. I promise that you will feel better for having done so.”

Liam grudgingly eats eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast. Kerrigan places her son in his basket on the bed and asks Liam to mind him while she finishes her toilette. She twists and pins her hair and removes the rags she wore to bed, revealing elegant curls around her face and down the back of her neck. She then applies her makeup. When she is finished, she irons Liam’s dress uniform for him. Liam, being extremely nervous, takes a bottle of whiskey and begins drinking directly from it. Kerrigan removes it from his hand before he becomes too inebriated and tells him to mind her child for an hour or so.

Down the hall, Mary’s hands are shaking. She is not a glamorous woman. She has never attended a ball except as a servant. Kerrigan knocks and Mary opens the door. Kerrigan sits behind Mary and brushes her hair with a boar bristle brush and works oils and pomades into it. Mary is a very plain and practical woman, raised by her brother. She is beautiful, but she is not elegant. She has never worn makeup, had her hair styled more elaborately than a simple bun, tuck, roll, or twist, or worn jewelry other than her engagement ring. Soon, Lynn arrives to help prepare Mary for her wedding, Mary’s long, golden-brown hair is slowly shaped into a graceful, silky updo. After her hair is completed, Lynn and Kerrigan focus on her makeup, which was borrowed from Lynn and Katya. Then, they give her her first set of jewels, a gift from Var and Katya. Mary’s ears are not pierced, so the set is merely an amber and diamond necklace and a silver tiara to match. Mary has never worn high-heeled shoes before, so Kerrigan helps her walk around the room in them for the first time. Mary’s wedding gown, a gift from Lynn and Kerrigan, is fancier than anything he has ever worn. Kerrigan helps her with her silk stockings, corset, and petticoat. Lynn helps her don her gown without mussing her hair, and Kerrigan laces the back. Finally, Lynn pins Mary’s veil behind her tiara and escorts her downstairs.

Kerrigan returns to her room to find Liam playing with her son. She does not interrupt them. She wishes that her own husband would give the boy that much attention and that Jack could have a bond with his son, but it is impossible. Liam wonders if he will be a father soon himself and if marriage will change him. Most of the men in the Thirteenth Bridgeton who are married were profoundly changed by their wives. Captain Boland is far more preoccupied and reserved than he was before he married. According to his brothers, Colonel Callahan is far more serious and resentful. Even Major Fitzmaurice, who has been engaged to Lieutenant Barrett for nearly a year, is becoming more patient and careful. Liam wonders if Mary will change him for the better or the worse.

He remembers a time thirty years earlier when Mary was just a girl. He remembers his eagerness to settle down with her, and he sees that eagerness that he once had in Major Fitzmaurice. He remembers having had no reservations about marriage. He also remembers the pain of losing her, something that, despite all of their similarities, his father could never understand. Now that he knows that Mary is safe, he has his doubts about marriage. When he originally planned to marry, he was a civilian. Everyone with rebel alliances was in equal danger of death, whether by execution or in conflict, whether they were a man or a woman, a civilian or a rebel soldier. Now that he is a soldier, he is in grave danger daily, and he does not want Mary to become a widow. He fears having children because he fears that they will lose him and his income. He has seen many young married men lose limbs or their lives. He saw Captain Boland fall gravely ill, as he has fallen ill himself, but Captain Boland, having a wife and a son, had far more to lose at the time. He wonders if he might be next. Suddenly, Liam has his doubts over whether he wants to marry or not.

He turns to Kerrigan and says, “Take your son. I’m far too drunk to be holdin’ him. ‘Tis to the pubs I’ll go.”

Kerrigan takes her son from Liam, sees the two empty whiskey bottles that he tried to kick under the bed, and says, “Today is your wedding day. You must return to camp. Everyone is waiting for you.”

“’M not goin’.”

“You really are just like Jack.”

“’M not Jack!” shouts Liam, smashing his nearly empty whiskey bottle against the wall. “There’s no reason to compare me to that bastard!”

Kerrigan’s son begins to cry, and Kerrigan tries to comfort both her baby and Liam. “Liam, please be rational. You wanted me to find Mary. I found her for you. You asked her to marry you many years ago. You now have your chance.”

“I don’ want to get married, an’ I don’ want to leave a widow.”

“Hush, Liam. You need not fear. Mary will be safe in Highton. She will have Lynn, Shane, and Laura with her. She will not disappear again.”

“I can’t protect her. I’ll be out here, an’ she’ll be there,” laments Liam.

“Crosspoint is far too dangerous a place for her to stay here for any length of time. Yes, this is because you are Jack’s son. It is a reality that you have been forced to face at my own behest once before, for which I do feel very guilty. It is also a fact with which you must learn to live. Jack’s unprotected daughter-in-law would make a perfect target for the enemy, and I would not be able to find her after that.

“To give you an idea of what would happen,” continues Kerrigan, “in the best case scenario, she would be beaten, raped, starved, and ransomed. In the worst case, she would either be sold into prostitution or slavery or tortured and killed. There are no sympathetic lords here. You have a duty to your father, your wife-to-be, and your country. Your uncle Shane, who made his living as a bodyguard before the war, will protect her for you. Nothing will ever happen to her in Highton.”

“He ever protect ye?” asks Liam.

“He has done so a few times, but mostly he only had to protect me from your father.”

“That’s danger enough, considerin’ what he did to ye.”

“You really do look more like Jack when you are angry. He swears that you look like your mother. He says you have her mouth, chin, eyebrows, and hands.”

“Do I?”

“I do not know. I never met your mother. I suppose that this must be true, though, because you did not inherit those features from him, as neither he nor his brothers have them. I know that your mother must have been beautiful. I know Jack’s nature. He would never sleep with an ugly woman. I also think that you look a little like your cousin Siobhan. You will always be compared to Jack. You are his son, and you do resemble him in many ways. You are not Jack, though. Do not allow these comparisons to trouble you so terribly. The decisions that you make are your own. Jack’s destiny is not your destiny.”

“I still don’ want to marry.”

“You must. The time is long overdue, and the plans are made. It is now your duty. I guarantee that you will not regret having done so in hindsight.”

It is breakfast time in the camp of the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry. Major Fitzmaurice carries Lieutenant Barrett, who is already dressed for the wedding, to a table where Doctor Sparrow is already sitting, despite many strange looks from the men over his behavior. Lieutenant Barrett’s leg is still badly injured, and she should not be on her feet or even out of bed. Major Fitzmaurice gets food for himself and for Lieutenant Barrett and returns to the table, glaring coldly at anyone who dares to stare at him. Colonel Hagan, whose unit is always the first to rise, walks into the mess tent and to Major Fitzmaurice’s table.

“Mornin’ tae ye, Major,” says Colonel Hagan.

“Colonel’s not up yet,” says Major Fitzmaurice without looking up from his meal. “Won’t be ‘til he smells bacon.”

“Not lookin’ for him.”

“We don’ have no haggis, neither.”

“Clever, Major. As if I’ve ne’er heard tha’ ‘afore. I jus’ wanted tae tahnk ye for doin’ wha’ I’ve always wanted tae.”

“Which is?”

“Beatin’ General Callahan to a bluidy pulp an’ gettin’ awa’ from it,” says Colonel Hagan humorlessly.

“I’m not exactly proud of that,” says Major Fitzmaurice.

“Doctor, I brought the Hagan family hangover cure.”

“Feck off,” says Doctor Sparrow.

“Well, ‘tis hear if’n ye or the Colonel Pig want it,” Colonel Hagan says, placing a bottle on the table and turning again to Major Fitzmaurice. “Major, is Corporal Callahan awake yet?”

“No idea,” replies Major Fitzmaurice, suddenly interested. “Why?”

“After last night, I need tae see he got hame, so to speak.”

“I’d imagine so. Major Callahan didn’t say he’d gone missin’, an’ Kian’s his usual self an’ not a’ ‘tall worried ‘bout him.”

“I have tae be gang back tae me ain men. If’n ye do see the Corporal, see that ye give him me best regards,” says Colonel Hagan sincerely and somberly.

“Aye, I will,” replies Major Fitzmaurice.

Colonel Hagan leaves, and Lieutenant Barrett turns to Major Fitzmaurice and says, “In the Western Army, we’d never disrespect a colonel like that.”

“This ain’t the Western Army,” replies Major Fitzmaurice.

“Ye didn’t even salute.”

“Lemmie repeat. This ain’t the Western Army. We ain’t too formal ‘round here. Hell, I punched a general’s teeth out an’ didn’t get in any trouble. ‘Sides, that’s Colonel Hagan.”

“Who?”

“Sheepfuckin’ bastard I got in a fight wi’ last year.”

Sergeant Callahan enters the tent, fetches food, and walks over to the table. “Doctor, could ye look at somethin’ for me?”

“No,” replies Doctor Sparrow angrily.

“He has a hangover. Give him a few hours, Conan,” says Major Fitzmaurice. “I see ye’ve earned your stripes.”

“Couldn’t’ve done it without ye,” says Conan.

“Ye look like death! What happened last night? An’ why d’ye owe me?”

“Ye know how ye mock the Colonels an’ Generals?”

“Aye…an’ contrary to what ye think, ‘tisn’t done me well. Go on.”

“I put me pillow down me nightshirt, took me brother’s horse, an’ pretended to be Owen in a right brawl. ‘Twas more a brawl than a battle.”

“He could afford to lose a few pounds…” says Major Fitzmaurice absentmindedly.

“I can’t see too good, though,” laments Conan. “Accordin’ to Doctor Kiersey, I’ll never see out o’ that eye again.. I want Doctor Sparrow to take a look at it.”

“I’d trust Kiersey, but I’m a soldier not a doctor. Leave Brendan…erm…Doctor Sparrow alone for now. Meanwhile, ye really do look worse than your father did last night after…well…” Major Fitzmaurice trails and pauses. “Come wi’ me. I’ll fix ye up right good ‘afore Liam an’ his little wife-to-be get here to make things official.”

“The Lieutenant didn’t seem too bothered, sor?”

“She is a soldier, an’ she’s injured herself.”

“Can I see?”

“Absolutely not! ‘Tis her leg, ye pervert. Now Mary, on the other hand, she’d probably faint if she saw the state o’ ye, not to mention two Senatorial Generals’ wives’ll be here, an’ they’re not used to seein’ shite like that.” Major Fitzmaurice leaves Doctor Sparrow asleep in his breakfast and carries Lieutenant Barrett to the majors’ tent, which is empty. He places her gently in his bunk and opens his trunk. He rummages through it until he finds a leather eye patch, which he hands to Conan, and says, “Take this. ‘Twill look better’n that bloody bandage. Unwrap it. Let me see.” Conan does as he is told. “Ah, sure, it don’t look too bad a’ ‘tall. ’Tis a bit o’ a mess now, but that’ll close up no problem. Ye may not see, but your eye won’t look half bad when it heals.”

“Ye’ve seen this ‘afore?”

“Aye. Ye know Sergeant O’Leary?”

“Aye. He’s blind?”

“Aye. Left eye. A bit o’ shrapnel from a musket ball what shattered off a helmet nearby cut his eye right bad March o’ last year. Ye’d never know it, though. An’ I’ve met another man or two in me time wi’ the same problem. Some ye can tell, an’ some ye can’t.”

“So they’ll let me stay on?”

“Aye. Wi’ a shiny new medal an’ rank, no less. So ye traded your eye for your rank an’ your father’s respect. How d’ye feel?”

“Like a whore.”

“Congratulations. Ye’re one o’ the lads now.”

“What d’ye mean, sor?”

“How d’ye think I got to be a major? Hard work?”

“I thought Liam told me brother he’d rather ye have it than him.”

“He did, but how d’ye think I got to come back?”

“Captain De Lacey died jus’ after Major O’Donnell retired his commission.”

“Who killed De Lacey?”

“I thought he died in a fight in town.”

“Who went wi’ him?”

“Nobody.”

“Who else was in town that night? Who could’ve used a bit o’ money to get married?”

“Liam?”

“Aye. Slipped him a bit o’ ether he did. Started the fight, saw to it De Lacey got finished off by doin’ it hisself, wi’ his own rifle, no less, an’ told your brother I should be major ‘stead o’ him. I traded a man’s life an’ a month’s salary for a promotion.”

“Why?”

“I hated the northerners, an’ the lot o’ ye hated De Lacey, an’ he hated the lot o’ ye too. Liam said I was needed here. I also knew ‘bout Mary ‘afore De Lacey did.”

“Ye told him to do that for ye?”

“No. I implied, an’ I sent him a trunk full o’ gold wi’ a fake Highton address as the return. We’re all bastards an’ whores when ye think ‘bout it…’cept perhaps Father O’Dunphy. He’s honest as they come in Bridgeton.”

“He cheats at cards.”

“I said as honest as they come in Bridgeton, not that he was truly honest.”

“I see your point, sor.”

“I’m jus’ glad to have the real Conan back. Now go get ready for Liam’s weddin’. He’ll be here any minute, an’ ye’re not even dressed.”

When Liam arrives in camp with Kerrigan by his side, everyone turns to congratulate him. He wishes that he could be invisible. He goes to his tent and finds the ring he made so long ago for Mary in his trunk. He made it for her, but he never thought she would have the chance to see or wear it. In a rush to deliver the Colonel’s breakfast so the mess tent can be used as a chapel, Conan runs into Liam, who is going to check on Captain Boland. The ring falls out of Liam’s hand, and Conan apologizes profusely.

“Terrible sorry, sor. I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry.”

“’Tis fine. Mind your step. Help me find it.”

Conan puts the Colonel’s breakfast on a trunk in Liam’s tent, kneels to find the ring and says, “Here ‘tis. ‘Tis a beautiful ring, sor. Where’d ye get it?”

“I made it,” says Liam proudly. “I was ‘prenticed to the silversmith who has his workshop ‘twixt The Crane an’ Sparrow an’ The Hawk’s Nest.”

“McAlpine.”

“Aye. How d’ye know him?”

“Me father’s been known to drink wi’ him on occasion.”

“’Course he is. I can’t think o’ a single man in Bridgeton your father wouldn’t drink wi’. I made the ring durin’ me time wi’ McAlpine. ’Twas McAlpine what introduced me to me father.”

“Where’d ye get a rock like that?”

“I won it. Bet a dyin’ man everythin’ I had ‘gainst it at cards. I won, an’ he left it to me when he died.”

“Did ye help him die, sor?”

“’Course not. Who gave ye such ideas?”

“Major Fitzmaurice, sor.”

“While ‘tis true I’ve been a wee bit less’n honest in me life, an’ while ‘tis true I’ve both cheated at cards an’ killed for both revenge an’ money, I swear to ye, I didn’t kill o’er this diamond. The man I won it from was a week from death an’ he knew it. Had the same thing Boland’s got. I went to his funeral. Hardly knew him. He’d no family. An’ that particular stone came from the queen’s own ring, too. The man I got it from stole it from off her dead body when they raided the palace. He was a gravedigger. He helped dig the pit they torched the royal family in. Thought ‘twas a shame to lose such a beautiful diamond, an’ he stole it.”

“An’ De Lacey?”

“Aye. I got him killed, or killed him, dependin’ on how ye say it. What’s it to ye?”

“Why?”

“Fitzmaurice needed out o’ the North; nobody here liked De Lacey; I needed the money; an’ De Lacey was a danger to us all. I’ll tell ye more ‘bout that later. I see ye’ve made sergeant,” notices Liam.

“Aye, sor,” replies Conan.

“I jus’ hope the price ye had to pay was worth it. Now ye might want to get along an’ bring the Colonel his breakfast ‘afore it gets too cold.”

Mary arrives in camp an hour after Liam. Many of them men shout and jeer at Mary, Kerrigan, Lynn, and Emily until Colonel Callahan threatens flogging for any man who cannot hold his tongue. Several of the men have been assigned to rearrange the mess tent so that it can be used for the wedding and reception. Mary stays in the Colonel’s tent until everyone arrives. Liam is waiting with Captain Boland, who is slowly recovering from consumption. He writes a letter to his wife after he struggles to get into his dress uniform, easily exhausted from the heavy toll the disease has taken on his lungs.

“Dear Molly,

“I am both pleased and amazed to tell you that I am alive. For the first time since midsummer, I am able to leave my sickbed. With many thanks to Doctor Sparrow and Liam, I’ve been able to recover. I haven’t been sent home to recover because of the danger to our son, but I am still far too weak to return to battle. I’m afraid to say that I’ve lost a lot of weight since I’ve been ill. My dress uniform is falling off while I write this, and it’s always been too tight. Liam knocked an extra hole in the belt for me so I could wear it today. I doubt there will be any Yuletide peace this year, but I look forward to seeing you and our son again as soon as I can. Tell him daddy sends his love.

“Patrick.”

Michael Jameson is among the last to arrive. He waits with his sister Mary, who is extremely nervous. When Michael arrives, Kerrigan and Lynn leave the Colonel’s tent to find Jack among the guests. Despite having waited thirty years to marry Liam, Mary still has her doubts. She is afraid that her brother might secretly disapprove, that she will find herself a widow soon after marriage, and that Liam is not the same man she was going to marry thirty years ago. Michael, himself a bachelor, tries to calm her nerves to the best of his abilities.

“Ye look lovely, little sister. Any man’d be glad to have ye for his wife.”

“Ye once said ye’d never let me marry a soldier, Michael,” says Mary.

“I also promised ye, come what may, ye could marry Liam,” replies Michael.

“He’s changed.”

“Aye, as have we all. Liam’s a good man wi’ a stable job an’ a knighthood. He’s better off now than when ye were taken from him, an’ someday ye’ll have a fortune.”

“I barely recognize him.”

“The years have not been kind to Liam, Mary. I’ve seen him a few times in the last thirty years, usually on the anniversary of the night ye disappeared, bought him a drink or two, an’ talked about oul’ times. Neither o’ us e’er dared to dream we’d find ye alive an’ well. He’s traveled the country lookin’ for work, but he’s always come back to Bridgeton. The gravediggers all know him from the number o’ times he’s slept by your grave. He’s been on the streets, been ill, starved, an’ bet away the shirt off his back in winter or traded it for a crust o’ bread. Life has taken its toll on Liam. In all the years, for all the things he’s been through, an’ for all his recent good fortune, his eyes have ne’er once lit up like they do when he sees ye.”

“But he’s a soldier. What if I lose him?”

“Ye’ve the same chance o’ losin’ me as him. I’d rather ye have him in case ye lose me, to be honest.”

“’Tis me weddin’ day…after all these years. Why amn’t I happy?”

“Ye will be. Right now, ye’re scared, like any bride. Like mammy was when she married da’. Ye’ll be happy tonight. Wait an’ see.”

“I wish mammy an’ da’ could be here.”

“Me too, Mary. Me too.”

Some of the officers stop into the medical tent to fetch Captain Boland and help him to the mess tent and to drink a toast with Liam. To him, they are a reminder of the years he has missed, the children he could have had, and the life he never had the chance to live.

“I wish I could o’ seen the two o’ ye all them years ago,” says Major Fitzmaurice, who is the last to leave.

“Ye weren’t even born, Major. If I’d married her when I wanted to, our second child’d be your age. I’d ne’er’ve gone north an’ met Drew Hackett, an’ I’d ne’er’ve joined the army. I’d ne’er’ve gone to jail, neither, nor served on a whalin’ ship. She wouldn’t be gettin’ this ring, neither, since I made it a few years ago as a ’prentice. I’d probably be in Bridgeton right now workin’ in one o’ the factories or the trades. I’d have a child your age an’ one older, an’ maybe four or five more younger. I’d have grandbabies an’ a little house to call me own an’ a fire at night. So don’t take Emmy for granted, Major. Ye never known when ye might lose her an’ what’ll happen to ye after.”

Finally, the first bell rings, calling Liam and the guests to the mess tent. It begins to rain gently, and Liam worries about Mary walking in a white gown should the camp get muddy. Liam stands at the makeshift altar, which is made from a wooden table from the mess tent with ammunition crates on top of it and a spare canvas over that. Someone painted a cross on the canvas, and the paint is still wet. Lieutenant O’Dunphy, the unit’s chaplain, stands behind the altar, his Bible open in front of him purely for luck, as Liam requested that no verse be read. He is nervous. Most of the men in the Thirteenth Bridgeton are not very pious. Almost all of them were raised as Catholics, but only a small handful can say the Rosary without help. He has not said Mass in over a year, and he is certain that he ill have to leave the priesthood when the war is over. Some of the men offered to play music, so they start a slow tune while Mary walks down the aisle with her brother as her keeper, since her father has been dead for many years. The tune is not truly a wedding march, but it is suitable. While all eyes are on Mary, Father O’Dunphy slips his hip flask from his pocket and takes a sip of whiskey. When Mary reaches the altar, Michael puts her hand in Liam’s.

“She’s yours now,” he whispers before taking his place among the guests.

Father O’Dunphy clears his throat and says, “We’re here today to see Captain Shepherd married, married at long last to a woman he thought he lost. He reminds us that we could each be lost or lose those we love at any time. They’ve waited longer’n most o’ the men here’ve been alive to join together in marriage. I won’t make ‘em wait no longer. Liam, d’ye take the lovely Mary for your wife?”

“Aye.”

“Promise to love, protect, an’ provide for her ‘til Death takes ye?”

“Aye.”

“Miss Mary, d’ye take this er…gentleman for your husband?”

“Aye.”

“Promise to love, stay faithful to, an’ care for him ‘til Death takes ye?”

“Aye.”

“Does anyone object?” He pauses. “Give her the ring.”

“Liam!” exclaims Mary. “’Tis beautiful!”

“Without further ado, Liam Shepherd, Mary Jameson, I pronounce ye husband an’ wife. Ye can kiss the bride. God knows ye’ve waited long enough.”

Mary tosses her bouquet to Laura and Emily, the only unmarried women present, the few women in the unit having chosen not to attend. Emily catches it, and the feasting begins. The fare is simple but plentiful. There is a roasted pig and ale and whiskey for everyone. There are honey cakes and cider for dessert. There is little dancing because there are so few women present, but the guests are mirthful nonetheless. Mary graciously greets the men in the unit but gives special pause to those whom Liam has mentioned to her by name.

“’Tis always nice to see you again, Captain,” says Mary.

“’Tis Major now,” replies Major Fitzmaurice.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not used to what the symbols mean.”

“Don’ worry. Ye’ll figure it out. This is me fiancée Emily Barrett.”

“Call me Emmy, Everyone does,” says Lieutenant Barrett.

“Pleased to meet you. You’re related to the Revolutionary millionaire, aye?” asks Mary.

“He was me father. He’s dead now.”

“Terrible sorry to hear that.”

Mary sees Sergeant Callahan alone in the corner and walks over to him. He tries to hide, but when he realizes that he cannot, he says, “G’day, ma’am. Sorry ‘bout me appearance.”

“What’s your name?”

“Callahan, ma’am. Conan Callahan.”

“I remember the Callahans. Keegan was a war hero. He’d a lovely fiancée he’d promised to marry after the war.”

“He’s me da’. He’s a General now.”

“Gracious! Has it been that long?”

“I’m his fourth.”

“How many children does he have now?”

“Seven.”

“By God! How time flies! Conan…ye’d be a corporal then?” asks Mary.

“Sergeant,” corrects Conan.

“I swear Liam said ‘corporal.’”

“I was jus’ promoted last night.”

“Congratulations, Sergeant. I’m sure ye’ll do fine.”

“Thankee, ma’am. I’m sorry I came to your weddin’ in such a state,” says Conan apologetically.

“You were injured in battle, aye?” asks Mary.

“Aye.”

“Ye’re a brave young man. I hope to have a son like yourself. Ye’re well-spoken, polite…nothing’ like your brute o’ an older brother.”

“Owen?”

“The Colonel.”

“Aye, that’s Owen.”

“How many brothers d’ye have?” asks Mary.

“Six,” replies Conan. “Three in this unit an’ three at home wi’ ma’. No sisters.”

“Faith! An’ Keegan…your da’…he’s still wi’ Rose-Marie.”

“Aye.”

“Rose-Marie always swore no son o’ hers’d take up the gun.”

“Ye knew me ma’?” asks Conan.

“I worked wi’ her,” replies Mary.

“In the tavern?”

“Not that long ago. She was a tavern maid an’ I a shopkeeper ‘afore we ran guns.”

“Me ma’ ran guns?” asks Conan.

“An’ food an’ clothes. An’ she was right good at it too,” replies Mary. “They knew your da’ was fightin’. They knew who all the fightin’ men was. They knew most o’ the smugglin’ men too, but they ne’er caught us girls.”

“How?”

“We hid things better. Liz Fitzmaurice’d take her baby wi’ her an’ sometimes the older kids. They was a distraction.”

“But the Major wasn’t born yet. His birthday’s Founder’s Day.”

“He wasn’t, but Henry an’ Katie was, an’ Charlie was a baby. He’d cry an’ cry on cue, an’ the guards ne’er suspected a thing. We’d hide it in our skirts or pretend to be wi’ child. ‘Sides, who notices another maid leavin’ District Thirteen in the mornin’ an’ comin’ back in the evenin’? There’s more maids in Bridgeton than stars in the sky.”

“I can’t believe me ma’ ran guns,” says Conan, amazed at the idea.

“She did. If ye see her, tell her little Mary Jameson says hello. I wasn’t much older’n yourself when I knew her.”

“D’ye know me da’?”

“No. On’y what she said ‘bout him. They wasn’t married at the time.”

“Excuse me, Conan,” says General Callahan, interrupting their conversation. “Mary, I’m Rose-Marie’s husband. They have to call me ‘General’, but ye can call me Keegan. Have any o’ the others survived, d’ye know?”

“I don’ know.”

“I’m sure Rose-Marie’ll ask ‘bout ‘em when ye get back to Bridgeton.”

“I was not in prison with them, nor did I see another soul from Bridgeton for thirty years. I didn’t accompany the Volkovs, nor Lord Miternowski, to Highton, when I was in their service. I was a maid in their summer home near Stankirk.”

“I hear Stankirk’s beautiful.”

“’Tis.”

“Be sure ye visit Rose-Marie when ye go back to Bridgeton. I’m sure she’d love to have ye.”

“Conan tells me ye’ve seven sons now,” says Mary.

“Aye, an’ I’m proud o’ every last one o’ ‘em,” replies General Callahan, beaming.

“I never expected that. I can’t believe a Colonel was born, raised, an’ promoted in the time I’ve been gone.”

“Do us a favor.”

“Aye?”

“Don’ go tellin’ Rose-Marie ‘bout Conan,” pleads General Callahan.

“Won’t she find out anyhow?” asks Mary.

“Once the cuts an’ bruises heal, the Doctors say ‘twill look normal. He’ll never see out o’ that eye again. Not even a powerful witch could save it, at least not wi’ him alive. Rose-Marie don’ need to know her son’s half-blind. She don’ need to worry like that.”

“Aye, sor. If ye think ‘tis wise.”

“Ye don’ have to call me ‘sor,’ Mary. A friend o’ me wife’s is a friend o’ mine, an’ the wife o’ a friend is too.”

“’Tis nice to finally meet ye, havin’ heard so much ‘bout ye from Rose-Marie, even though ‘tis been thirty year,” says Mary, graciously, as if no time had passed.

“I’m afraid the pleasure’s all mine, m’dear,” says General Callahan. “Ye should be right proud o’ Liam. He’s a good man an’ a good soldier. Jus’ wait ‘til ye meet the other wives. Most are far younger’n we. They were born at the end o’ the Revolution or after it. They don’ even know what gun runner is.”

“’Tis but a distant memory.”

Eventually, the feasting ends. Just as the sun begins to set, a woman arrives in camp with three children. She needs no invitation and no introduction. Instead of blocking her passage, the men on watch remove their caps with respect and tell her where everyone is. She thanks them and gracefully strolls into the mess hall where the men part to let her pass as if she were royalty. Even Major Fitzmaurice falls silent and removes his hat in respect. The woman walks to a table where generals Malone and Callahan are sitting, the youngest of her sons balanced on her hip, his arms around his mother’s neck, the middle child holding onto her other hand, afraid to leave her side, and the oldest walking next to her, defensive of his mother.

“Where’s me son, Keegan?” she asks.

“Which son? Ye’ve Devon, an’ Brian, an’ Killian there. Owen’s on his fourth or fifth plate o’ dinner as usual. Brendan’s sittin’ yonder wi’ some o’ the officers from other units an’ two other majors. Kian’s somewhere around. I saw him not ten minutes ago,” replies General Callahan nervously.

“Conan. Where’s Conan?”

“I-I’m not sure, dear.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lyin’.”

“Ye are. Ye stutter when ye lie to me, an’ your sons do it too. Where’s Conan?”

“There. Wi’ Captain Boland, Liam, Major Fitzmaurice, Fitzmaurice’s girl, an’-”

“Mary Jameson. There’s a face that’s a distant memory”

“She was rescued from prison and went into exile. Jack’s lady friend found her servin’ Senatorial General Volkov his evenin’ cocktails up in Stankirk, an’ here she is.

Rose-Marie Callahan, having failed to receive an answer to her question from her husband, walks over to Mary’s table, graciously greeting everyone. The men all know who she is, but she does not know them. She is best known as General Callahan’s wife and as the mother of four members of the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry, but she is also the woman who has taken it upon herself to comfort the mothers, wives, and children of the men in the unit, a service not lost upon the married men. Before she is at liberty to inquire about her own son, she feels that she has an obligation to ask the men about their well-being so that she may report to their wives when she returns to Bridgeton.

“Captain Boland, your wife sends her love an’ concern. Are ye feelin’ better?” asks Rose-Marie.

“Much,” replies Captain Boland.

“Then, dammit, why ain’t ye told her yet?”

“Wrote the letter this mornin’. Goes out on tomorrow’s post.”

“I’ll take it back for yet. No reason to wait or pay for the mail.”

“Thankee.”

“Doctor Sparrow, I presume,” says Rose-Marie.

“Aye,” replies Doctor Sparrow, who has largely recovered from his hangover.

“Your wife sends her regards and wonders if ye’ll be able to get away for Yuletide.”

“I fear not.”

“An’ ye must be Lieutenant Barrett o’ the Western Army,” says Rose-Marie, turning to the other woman at the table.

“Aye, ma’am,” says Lieutenant Barrett.

“Ye’ve a good man there. Don’t let him go.”

“I won’t ma’am.”

“Mary, it really is a pleasure to see ye after all these years. I’m sorry I didn’t know ye were to be wed. If I’d known, I’d’ve come in a nicer dress an’ brought a gift,” apologizes Rose-Marie.

“I don’t need nothin’,” replies Mary. “‘Sides, I’ll be beggin’ ye to teach me what to do when I’ve got children.”

“Don’ let ‘em follow their daddy here. That’s what ye do, an’ I’ve done a terrible job. Have ye seen Conan?”

“Earlier.”

“Is he well?”

“I can’t lie to ye, Rose-Marie, but Keegan told me don’ say nothin’,” says Mary.

“Kian, dear,” Rose-Marie says, turning to her third son, who was attempting to leave the table before being asked any questions, “Jaysus, ye look thin! Have ye eaten?”

“Aye, ma’,” replies Kian.

“Are ye sure ye’re alright?”

“Aye, ma’.”

“I worry ‘bout ye eatin’ enough.”

“I’m fine, ma’.”

“Are ye sure ye’re not ill.”

“I’m sure, ma’.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Not sure what ye mean, ma’.”

“Conan. Where is he?”

“I don’ know, ma’. He’s fully capable o finding’ his own way ‘round.”

“I didn’t take Devon and Brian out o’ school for nothin’ an’ travel five hundred miles for nothin’,” says Rose-Marie. “Where’s me boy? There’s somethin’ amiss wi’ him. A mother knows it in her heart.”

“He’s…well…he was here, replies Kian. “Then he went to see da’. After that, I think he went to fetch himself a drink, an’ he said be back here in a mo’. If not, he’s probably gone to the latrine or his tent. He has to move today.”

“Why?”

“Da’ promoted him to Sergeant last night o’er Owen’s head. He’s done in a year an’ a half o’ war what took me three years o’ peace an’ a year o’ war to do.”

“Your five years’ duty’s over. Have ye thought ‘bout comin’ back home?” asks Rose-Marie.

“’Course not. Ye know that,” replies Kian.

“What ‘bout marriage? Owen had a two-year-old by your age, an’ Brendan had a toddler an’ another on the way.”

“Someday, ma’. I ain’t found the right girl.”

“Ye should come home to Bridgeton. Ye’d find a girl there no trouble.”

“Shouldn’t ye be botherin’ Conan?” asks Kian, eager to have his mother leave him be, as she is embarrassing him in front of his colleagues.

“Can ye mind your brothers?” asks Rose-Marie.

“I’ll do it, Rose-Marie,” says Mary.

“Ye sure? I’d hate to impose on your weddin’ day.”

“’Tis quite alright, They’re lovely, Rose-Marie. What are their names?”

“The oldest one’s Devon. The middle one’s Brian. The youngest one’s Killian. Jus’ see to it Devon don’ wander off. He may not look it, since he’s tall for his age, but he’s on’y eleven, an’ I don’ want him joinin’ the army jus’ yet.”

“I’ll be twelve in three days,” protests Devon.

“Ye’re still not sixteen. Ye ain’t old enough to join.”

Rose-Marie walks around the mess tent looking for Conan and having little luck until she hears him laughing with Lieutenant Hackett about the fight between Major Fitzmaurice and her husband. Recognizing her son’s laugh, Rose-Marie follows it to Conan and sees a man very different from the boy who left Bridgeton nearly eighteen months ago. He is far bigger than he was when she last saw him, and his voice has changed, but what has changed most is the expression in the eye she can see. It is hollow and haunted, with neither a hint of laughter nor one of youth. He is only seventeen, and already, his innocence is a distant memory.

“Ma’, what’re ye doin’ here?” asks Conan.

“I came to see if me son was alright,” replies Rose-Marie.

“We’re all fine, ma’.”

“Ye don’ look fine.”

“’Tis nothin’. I jus’ got hit is all. Happens to everyone.”

“Can I see?”

“No, ma’. It looks awful, but I swear ‘twill be jus’ fine.”

“Conan, ye’re wearin’ an eye patch. Ye ain’t ‘jus’ fine.’”

“It looks worse’n ‘tis. I swear.”

“Let me see it.”

“No.” Quicker than Conan can stop her, Rose-Marie reaches up and snatches the eye patch. When she sees his injury, she gasps in shock and horror. “I told ye ‘wasn’t pretty.”

“Ye-ye were so handsome,” stammers Rose-Marie. “How will ye ever find a girl now?”

“The surgeons say ‘twill look fine once the bruises an’ cuts heal an’ it stops bein’ bloodshot,” assures Conan. “I was hidin’ it from Miss Katya an’ Miss Lynn ‘cos they ain’t used to seein’ injuries and sickness like the rest.”

“Can ye see anythin’?”

“No, an’ I ne’er will. I got kicked in the eye an’ got sand in it. ‘Tis a miracle ‘twill look alright someday.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Terrible.”

“They givin’ ye anythin’ for it?” asks Rose-Marie out of concern.

“No. I don’ want nothin’. I’m a man, ma’. I can handle it,” replies Conan stoutly.

“Ye really do sound jus’ like your father. Ye know, far greater men than yourself have fallen o’er far less.”

“I’ll be fine. Now give that back. The other ladies don’ need to see it.”

“Conan, what’s that sound?” asks Rose-Marie, surprised.

“What sound?” asks Conan.

“Is that a storm?”

“No. That’s artillery fire. Ma’, get the childer an’ bring ‘em to Owen’s tent. They’ll be safe there. I’ll go alert Owen.”

Conan runs across the tent, jumping over a table and upturning drinks, much to the ire of the other soldiers. He finds the Colonel, who asks, “What’re ye on ‘bout now?”

“Raid. Incomin’. Sound the whistle,” replies Conan.

“Did the watch-”

“No. Ma’ did.”

“Where’s the watch?”

“Probably dead drunk as usual.”

“Feck!” curses Colonel Callahan, pulling a whistle from his pocket and blowing it so hard that his face turns red. The tent falls silent, and he climbs onto the table and shouts, “Men, there’s a raid comin’. Get our guests to safety an’ get your gear. I don’ think I need to mention that we have to get ‘em out right quick this time.” The table breaks under his weight. Several of the men cough and stifle snickers, but as soon as he stands, they rush to ready themselves. The Colonel hobbles over to the bride’s table and says, “Fitzmaurice, take command. Doctor, fetch a gun. If they come into camp, I need yourself, the womenfolk, an’ our distinguished guests to do the same, I don’ want none o’ them children to die today on me own watch. They’re me brothers. Morrsion, see if ye can’t clear the women an’ children out. Take them rich ladies to the tent in the woods. When ye’ve got ‘em out, come back for me ma’ an’ the boys, an’ Mary, the Werewolf, an’ Fitzmaurice’s girl. Send Hackett an’ Coffey to guard the ladies.”

“Sor,” says Lieutenant Barrett.

“Aye, Lieutenant?” asks Colonel Callahan.

“I can fight. I can borrow Billy’s coat an’ one o’ his guns an’ wear me petticoat an’ go shoeless. All I need’s a horse or a place to shoot from, as me leg’s hurt.

“Take Coffey’s horse. Ye’ll be actin’ Captain in Morrison’s place while he takes them ladies out.”

“Thankee, sor.”

“Doctor…” trails Colonel Callahan.

“Aye, Colonel?” asks Doctor Sparrow.

“I’ve torn me stitches…help…”

Colonel Callahan collapses, and Doctor Sparrow wastes no time in telling Mary to fetch his bag. She kicks off her heels and hoists her gown above her ankles in a most unladylike manner so she is free to run. Doctor Sparrow takes his knife and begins cutting through the tablecloth and using it to stop the bleeding. He quickly stitches the Colonel’s wound without anesthetic, wraps the strips of tablecloth tightly around his ribs, and splashes his face with ice water from the buffet.

As Colonel Callahan wakes, Doctor Sparrow says, “It is truly a testament to your gluttony that ye could rip your stitches at dinner.”

“’Tis to battle for me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m goin’ to protect me ma’ an’ brothers. They’re in me tent.”

Colonel Callahan limps toward his tent as quickly as he can, and Doctor Sparrow shouts after him, “Protect ‘em lyin’ down!”

Mary removes her wedding gown and runs out in her shift. She finds a supply of gunpowder and musket balls and runs after the men. She finds a dead enemy soldier with a horrific knife wound to his chest near the edge of camp. She bends down and steals his musket, returning to camp and sitting on a sack of flour behind a crate of medical supplies, ready to fire on any enemy soldiers who break through the line, as comfortable with a gun as any of the men are, having smuggled them in her youth.

When Colonel Callahan arrives in his tent, his mother leaves him with Brian and Killian, whom she placed an empty trunk as a makeshift cradle. She takes her son’s rifle as protection and runs to find Devon, who disappeared in the frantic scurry to find safety.

Laura and Shane seek shelter in the woods, where a lone enemy soldier finds them. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing on this side of the border?” the soldier asks in Werewolvish. Laura does not answer, so he slaps her. She still refuses to answer, so he says, “You’re a traitor, you know, and you know what we do to traitors. Take off your dress, and maybe I will spare your pathetic life.”

Laura reaches into her bodice, pulls out a long penknife, and stabs him in the chest, saying, “Ye’re dead, ye bastard. Enjoy your own torture.” Laura spits on his corpse while Shane, a bodyguard for many years, watches from behind the trees, ready to pounce on any other targets if the need should arise.

At the close of batle, Rose-Marie Callahan finds Devon covered in blood and carrying a rifle nearly as long as his brother Brian is tall. She runs over to him and takes the rifle away from him, and he proudly, defiantly smiles up at his mother and says, “Ma’ I done killed ten dogs all by meself.”

“Don’ ever run away like that again. Ye could’ve been killed!” scolds Rose-Marie.

“But I wasn’t, ma’, an’ I killed loads o’ the bastards!”

“Mind your language, Devon.”

“But Owen swears.”

“How old is Owen?”

“Twenty-six.”

“An’ how old are ye?”

“Nearly twelve.”

“Ye can curse all ye like when ye’re in the Army.”

“Can I join the Army?” asks Devon hopefully.

“No. Ye’re not old enough,” replies Rose-Marie.

“No fair.”

“Your day will come soon enough.”

Colonel Callahan gingerly steps out of his tent, holding his side, doubled over in pain. He beckons Major Fitzmaurice to him and says, “Major, I’m afraid I need your help.”

“Sor, there are nine dead, twelve injured, one fatally, an’ two still missin’,” reports Major Fitzmaurice.

“’Tisn’t what I meant.”

“D’ye need me to fetch somethin’?”

“No. I need ye to pick the lock on me trunk.”

“Sor, I don’ know what ye-” begins Major Fitzmaurice.

“I know right well ye know how to pick locks,” interrupts Colonel Callahan.

“I ain’t done it in twenty years.”

“I doubt there’s any other man in this camp can do it, since they’re poor an’ thieves but honest thieves, at least who’d steal from a pocket but not a locked house, an’ I can’t ride to town for a locksmith in this state.”

“I’ll send one o’ the men.”

“No, Major. There’s no time. It has to be done ‘afore me ma’ gets back.”

“Now I’m curious. What did ye do?” asks Major Fitzmaurice.

“I didn’t do nothin’ I swear,” replies Colonel Callahan. ‘Twas Brian. Ma’ put Killian in me trunk so he couldn’t get out like. Well, Brian got scared o’ the cannons an’ ducked under the bed, not knowin’ what they was, an’ the lid shut an’ the latch locked by accident.”

“Don’ tell me ‘tis the padlock too…”

“No, no. Jus’ the regulation lock.”

“Give me five minutes. I’ve the need o’ a few o’ Emmy’s hairpins ‘afore I can get it open.”

“Ye’re a good man, Fitzmaurice,” says Colonel Callahan desperately.

“I’ll be sure to remember ye said that so’s I can say it back to ye when ye call me a miserable bastard next week,” says Major Fitzmaurice smugly.

“Very funny, Fitzmaurice.”

Major Fitzmaurice, keen on testing the Colonel’s nerves, slowly strolls back to his tent and relaxes in his bunk, waiting for Lieutenant Barrett to find him, rather than looking for her. He takes a short nap before she arrives and discusses the battle when her when she does. He eventually asks her for a few hairpins and meanders back to the Colonel’s tent, stopping to talk to several officers on the way. When he gets there, he stretches and yawns before kneeling in front of the trunk and slowly inspecting the lock, thoroughly enjoying making Colonel Callahan pace and wring his hands, by making faint noises and shaking his head while deliberately fumbling the hair pins. When he hears Mrs. Callahan chiding Devon as they approach the tent, he quickly twists the correct pins and opens the lock easily, popping the trunk open and removing Killian from it unscathed. When Rose-Marie arrives, Major Fitzmaurice hands the boy to her.

Colonel Callahan whispers, “Ye’re a miserable bastard, Fitzmaurice.”

“But ye said I’m a good man. Ye owe me,” replies Major Fitzmaurice quietly.

“Ye’re still an arrogant arse.”

“I know, but ye still owe me.”

“We’ll negotiate it later.”

“Ye’d miss me were I gone.”

“I would and did. Twice. But so far as I know, ye haven’t been offered a command yet, let alone taken it, so your arse belongs to me, even if I owe ye, both for the battle an’ for savin’ me arse wi’ ma’. What d’ye want.”

“Three things: the privilege an’ honor to be a friend o’ your family-”

“Granted.”

“-to take Conan wi’ me an’ Hackett on that personal errand to the north I know ye’re about to send us on-”

“Why?”

“-so he can meet a man up there who can make his unfortunate situation easier on him-”

“Granted.”

“-an’ a wee bit o’ leave I can use at any time so’s I can marry Emmy when we’ve made the arrangements.”

“Fair enough. Granted, though I feel I’ve done a deal wi’ the Devil hisself.”