by Anne Perry
Half an hour later it started to rain, then their own heavy artillery began. There was a lot of cursing, because it meant that the German heavy stuff would reply. They always did. This stretch of the line would get it hard. There would be casualties, and a lot of digging and shoring up to do in the morning.
The raiding party came back just before dawn, with three German prisoners, five of their own wounded, six dead. One of those was Sam. The lieutenant who had led the party told him.
“I’m sorry,” he said wearily. “It was a hell of a mess out there. I know he was a friend of yours. The body’s over there. I’m afraid he must have taken a pretty direct hit with a grenade or two. I only know it’s him because of the tag. At least it was quick. Better than being hung on the wire.” And he moved away to be with his men, the injured, the shocked, others who had seen their friends blown to pieces.
Joseph knew it had had to happen, and somewhere inside him he was at peace that it was accomplished. Sam had accepted and done what was necessary. But there was also a gnawing loss, an emptiness that was always going to ache, like a missing limb. But first he had to look at the body and still the horror in his mind that it could, in hideous irony, really be Sam. Sam was the only one who would have seen the black laughter in that! God! How he was going to miss him!
He found it hard to make his way between the stretchers and the bodies lying on canvas, or duckboards. His legs were shaking. It was almost daylight now. The sky above was streaked with light drifting banners of cloud.
The bodies were all badly injured, but one was so torn apart, both legs gone, one arm shattered and the head half blown away, that all one could be sure of was that he had been at least average height, and had had dark hair. It could have been Sam.
Trembling, sick with fear, Joseph picked up the dog tag and read Sam’s name and number on it. Now his whole body was shuddering. He reached for the one good hand, the left hand. Would he recognize it? He stared at it, trying to be certain. Then he saw the pale indentation on the third finger where there had been a ring, a plain circle, a wedding ring. Sam had never worn a ring. Relief swept over him, breaking out in sweat over his body; he was dizzy, the makeshift room swaying around him.
Someone grasped him from behind, holding him up, steadying him.
“You all right, Chaplain? Pretty bad, eh. Poor devil.”
Joseph wanted to say something, but his voice would not come. He gulped for breath, fighting the sudden nausea.
Someone passed him a cup of tea, hot and laced with rum. It was vile, made in a Dixie can that had held a Maconochie tinned stew as well. As he drank the tea, his balance returned.
“Thank you. I’ll . . . I’ll have some letters to write. Lots of letters.”
He conducted all the funerals, just brief words over white crosses in the Flanders clay, a few quiet men standing to attention, the sound of guns in the distance, the banners of sky like lead above them, as if their shoulders held it.
Sam’s was the last. Joseph stood there alone after the others had gone. He did not realize anyone else had stayed until he heard Barshey Gee’s voice.
“Oi’m real sorry, Captain Reavley. The major was a good man.”
“Yes.” Joseph found it hard to speak. “He was my friend.”
“Did you ever foind out who killed that newspaper wroiter?”
“Yes. It’s taken care of.”
“Knew you’d see to it,” Barshey said quietly. “Debt settled then.”
Joseph turned to look at him. There were tears on Barshey’s face, but he was smiling. He stood smartly to attention, and saluted the cross that bore the words
MAJOR SAMUEL WETHERALL,
KILLED IN ACTION, MAY 25, 1915.
By Anne Perry
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
FEATURING WILLIAM MONK
The Face of a Stranger
A Dangerous Mourning
Defend and Betray
A Sudden, Fearful Death
The Sins of the Wolf
Cain His Brother
Weighed in the Balance
The Silent Cry
A Breach of Promise
The Twisted Root
Slaves of Obsession
Funeral in Blue
Death of a Stranger
FEATURING CHARLOTTE AND THOMAS PITT
The Cater Street Hangman
Callander Square
Paragon Walk
Resurrection Row
Bluegate Fields
Rutland Place
Death in the Devil’s Acre
Cardington Crescent
Silence in Hanover Close
Bethlehem Road
Highgate Rise
Belgrave Square
Farriers’ Lane
The Hyde Park Headsman
Traitors Gate
Pentecost Alley
Ashworth Hall
Brunswick Gardens
Bedford Square
Half Moon Street
The Whitechapel Conspiracy
Southampton Row
Seven Dials
THE WORLD WAR I NOVELS
No Graves As Yet
Shoulder the Sky
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 2004 by Anne Perry
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Ballantine and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
www.ballantinebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
can be obtained from the publisher upon request.
eISBN: 978-0-345-48052-1
v3.0
