But for Dolan, it couldn’t last, surely. The Greys were far too famous a regiment. They’d fought at the Battle of Blenheim in 1704, helped suppress the Jacobite uprising, taken their bloody French eagle at Waterloo before almost wiping themselves out by charging into a full infantry column and more recently, defeated a far greater Russian force in the Crimean War. Being heavy cavalry, they did not therefore participate in the famous Charge of the Light Brigade, which was the only positive in this new nightmare - I wouldn’t have to listen to their silly lamentations. Put simply - They were too good for Dolan and surely a mass mutiny, and safety for me, must be in our mutual short term destiny.
“You’ve been silent for a while, old friend, and there’s a glassy look in your eyes.” He stood and paced about the room as each pigeon head jerked along with him.
“I always knew you were a rogue.” I pulled at the chain and caused a rattle, but the rail was too strong to break from my meagre effort.
“Not as much a rogue as you, and careful, you’re frightening the birds.” He threw more seed into the cages causing a rippling effect of flapping wings and my nostrils paid dearly with the odour. “Anyway, there’s the small matter of twenty thousand pounds which you owe me for services rendered.” He came closer, but not too close, and spoke with deliberation. “Now, how will you be intending to pay?”
I laughed, which was all I could do in the moment. But it wasn’t a laugh at him for demanding payment, no. It was a laugh of relief, which I felt flood through me. “That’s what this is about?” I breathed in a hefty lungful of shit filled air and probably some feathers too. “Oh, thank God, I thought you’d gone dicked in the nob because of that whore…what was her name…oh never mind.” I flapped a hand at being unable to recollect the face.
He froze on the spot - And then twitched. He almost twitched again but managed to control himself, rushed to the desk, flung open a drawer and pulled out a small metal device, similar in look and size to a snuff box, before taking his seat and turning the chair to face away.
I watched on appalled, nearing the brink of hyperventilation, as the man rolled up his sleeve to reveal an arm covered in cuts and slashes. He then placed the device, which I now recognised as a scarificator, over his forearm, braced himself, and pulled the tiny lever with his free hand. His fist clenched, his feet jolted and pulsed and he let out a tiny whimper before removing the box and wrapping a kerchief around the eight fresh bloody cuts to his arm. The madman remained in situ whilst my testicles shrivelled within me and then finally he wiped his forehead, replaced the blood letting implement and strolled back to me like we’d been playing a nice game of croquet on the lawn.
“Now, Captain, how will you be intending to pay?”
I had to work the blood back into my face by rubbing it and exercising my mouth, which only hurt my jaw, all as I deemed to never again mention the whore. “Twenty thousand pounds…I…I don’t have that kind of money, confound it.”
“Well then, it looks like I have no option other than to rescind my kindnesses already served in good faith.” He said expressionless as tiny red dots began to seep through the cloth. “I can’t travel back in time, but I can and will call you out at a time of my choosing. Pistols at dawn it’ll be and this time I won’t be there to fix the thing for you.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I thrust out my hand with urgency, almost grabbing him by the wrist but the damned chain prevented me from stretching that far. “I have the money…twenty thousand, um, it’s in a bank account.”
He twitched, but it was a twitch of surprise. “A bank account? Really, well then perhaps you can write me a promissory note for the sum agreed back in Ireland and then we can forget this whole sorry affair.”
“Great!” I rubbed my hands together. “And I’m sorry about that whole Ireland business, but I’m sure you’d have done the same thing with your life in danger the way mine was. What choice did I have? And I always regretted losing your friendship, which I valued so much, even if our acquaintance proved so unhappily short. No, Cap…I mean, Colonel, I’m just glad we can finally put the matter to rest. I’m sure I could find a coachman to take me back to London. Perhaps I could even remain here for a day, but no more, just to take in the sites…see what the brothels of Edinburgh have to offer, what? Perhaps you’d oblige me with your company too…no? Or not then, oh well. So why not allow me to put my mark on whatever you need me to sign and I’ll be on my way.”
He squinted just barely. “Well before I let you go, my man in London will first have to confirm the successful transfer of funds.”
Man in London? This wouldn’t be as easy as I’d hoped. “I don’t understand.”
“You do know how promissory notes work surely, Strappy?” I was about to ask for an explanation but he continued before I had the chance. “But don’t you worry about that. It won’t take too long, even with the dead somehow managing to take down the telegraph network…all those poles, you see, barged down like they were saplings…system’s broken and nobody dares fix the lines and who can blame ‘em, the way they traverse through forest like they do. And we can’t be relying on horse courier for such urgent business either, can we?” He opened out his arms, encompassing the room. “But I’ve yet to see a zombie catch a homing pigeon.”
“Homing pigeon?” My balls shrunk yet further, evidenced by the higher pitch to my voice and I worried if all this time I’d not given Dolan one tenth of the credit he deserved. Obviously I had no idea what a homing pigeon could do and he saw it in my face whilst taking one scrawny looking specimen from a cage.
“This lovely bird was hatched and raised in Shoreditch, London and he longs to return home to be with his friends.” He held and caressed the tweeting ball of filth like it was his own child. “And I mean to allow him to return home, which he can do because he’s a pigeon and pigeons can fly and they have excellent homing abilities. Four hundred miles is nothing to him, in fact, I hazard he can do that in a single flight…less than eight hours by my reckoning. And in return for my allowing him to fly home, he’ll deliver your promissory note to my man in Shoreditch, who happens to live in the same building as this bird was raised.” He absolutely kissed it on the head. “Obviously, my man has pigeons who were hatched and grew up in Leeds, Manchester, Bristol and as far away as France and Ireland, for what that’s worth these days. Oh, and yes, I’m sure he has a nice Scotch bird who can’t wait to return to this very room.” He smiled and I shivered. “And that bird will bring confirmation, or not, that twenty thousand pounds has transferred from your account to mine. Indeed, I expect the longest part of the process to be the chattering idiots at the bank, but you can be sure, we’ll have our answer within a day, two at most.”
I wasn’t sure whether to believe this. Animals, and least of all diseased pigeons, could never navigate their way back to a place they’d probably not seen for months, especially not considering they were transported here in the back of a dark carriage - No, if it were sent to London, it’d surely end up stranded somewhere on a rock in the North Sea, to be lunch for the first large creature that floated by, and good riddance. And for all Dolan’s apparent knowledge of pigeons and other such useless endeavours, all he’d done was take a rodent at random from the many hundreds. How could he tell them apart unless they were all from the same location?
But there was still something unsettling about the rat, which was grey with brown and white streaks, a tiny head and beak, a standard pigeon really. It now watched me, its annoying head convulsing, like it knew something but wouldn’t tell. But it couldn’t fly all the way to a predetermined room in the middle of London, could it?
Dolan produced from his desk a template note, much like The Times reporter kept on his person. He then proceeded to fill in the blank spaces before handing the paper to me with a quill. “Just place your mark at the bottom Strappy.”
I looked at it and wept inwardly. Twenty thousand pounds which I possessed several times over, all in gold and buried beneath my floorboa
rds.
I signed the paper and watched forlornly as Dolan rolled it up and attached it by string to the bird’s foot. He fed it a small handful of seeds and watched me whilst petting its dirty feathered neck, which I wanted so badly to wring.
“Anything you’d like to confess before he’s sent on his way?” He grinned as all I could do was shake my half paralysed head. “Good, because if the money’s not there,” and now he laughed, “well then, you’ll pay some way or other.”
I clasped my eyes shut, wishing I was going where the pigeon was. “It’s there, confound it. Would I lie to you?”
He didn’t answer, instead giving me a hard stare before throwing the pigeon out the opened window.
Gone Rogue
If I’d expected to be treated kindly in the interim, I was wrong, and now the McGurns dragged me through several corridors, down steps and into a cold, darkened passageway below the barracks.
There were large oaken doors either side, some of which I managed to peer inside to glimpse the downtrodden men within. They clung to the bars and watched with glum expressions as I was marched along the piss stinking stone floor.
It was futile to fight it, I knew that much, and so I saved my breath and energy for when my protestations might truly be required.
The bad McGurn brother produced a large iron key, opened the door which creaked on its hinges and shoved me through the opening.
I almost slipped on the soaking stones but managed to keep my equilibrium and, helped by the light that shone through a gap where roof met wall, saw I was not alone.
From the corner, the man surveyed me where I stood, still wearing my uniform. “A Cherrypicker, aye? Last I heard you were expecting company back in Kent.” By the sounds of that, he’d been prisoner since before my old regiment, the 8th had reached Rochester and knowing the contents of my bank account, I had to consider the likelihood that like this man, I too could be here a while.
Not knowing who he was, I told him as little as possible, that the 8th and 11th had now merged, whilst giving him the same kind of cautious scrutinisation he was giving me. He was donned in the scum stained and faded uniform of the 7th Regiment of Foot, the Royal Fusiliers who were based in the Tower of London and had hanging loose on his gorget patch a captain’s emblem. Judging from what he’d already told me, he’d probably be aware of me and my Irish fearlessness.
“I’m Captain Norris.” He held out his mitt, which I took.
I blinked on hearing his name. “Captain Strapper.” I said, not knowing quite what to expect from my admittance.
“Strapper, aye? Strapper?” His face shot to life. “By Gad, you may just be.” He shuffled closer in the semi gloom. “By Gad, you most certainly are. Had the pleasure of seeing your sculpture in Covent Garden. I mean, it was still under construction, but one can certainly recognise the face…the sloping nose and prominent forehead.”
I cleared my throat. “Oh that. The devils are arguing over where to stick it once it’s done. Can you believe they’re calling for it to replace Nelson in Trafalgar Square and that the whole place should be renamed Strapper Square? Quite nonsensical if you ask me.”
He shook his head, “modest as well, I see,” and gave me a hearty slap on the back. “Well let me just say it’s a game changer having the privilege of sharing this pit with a man…no, no…a soldier, such as yourself.”
I decided not to ask what in the blazes he meant by that, especially since he’d unconsciously looked toward the door as he said it - I certainly wasn’t about to start changing any games.
But since becoming the nation’s greatest living hero, I’ve found that people think they know me when they don’t and can instantly trust me and with that they tend to waffle and ramble on whether I cared or not. Norris was no different.
“The Greys…they’ve gone rogue under this new colonel…the bloody shame of it, such a legendary regiment like this and at a time when Britannia’s never needed them more. The bloody thing is the nation don’t yet know it and continue to send supplies north…or what gets through anyway. The colonel, a man who goes by the name of Dolan, he keeps a tight lid on the whole place. Dissenters are locked up down here…I know they’re dissenters because they all scream bloody treachery…good men to the man, but what good are they now? Those few fellow rogues, the ones he knew he could trust were all promoted, which means you can’t have faith in any of the officer class now. The damned fellow seems to be using what’s left of the regiment to further line his pockets, even while what’s left of the country diminishes by the day.” He leaned back against the wall and ran a hand through his long, straggly hair. “I tell you Strapper, it’s most frustrating being locked away down here, but maybe that’s all about to change, what?”
Again, I decided to ignore this line and hoped to distract his wayward thoughts by prompting him to continue. “Tell me, how come you know so much?”
“The guards! They talk do those McGurn dastards. I tell you, it never harms to get them on side. A nice compliment here and there and they soon drop their guard when they bring your gruel.” He tapped his head with a filthy finger. “Always had it in mind to rush them one of these days, but the opportunity never felt right, see, well sir, things are different now, what?” What was it with this man?
I backed away toward the wall and looked upwards at the hole to the outside, essentially no more than a brick or two which weren’t in place and gave an excellent view of nearby feet stamping by. “Yes, and what else have they told you?”
“That the colonel made his money at cards. Oh, and that he snapped after an incident with some whore in Ireland, but they said that was all rumour and naturally nobody dares mention anything of it to him. Oh, it’s far too small to fit through, don’t think I’ve not tried and that other chap…went by the name of Sheehan…well, he almost crushed himself trying to squeeze through and I see you’re an even bigger chap than he.”
I turned on him sharply. “What did you just say?”
“Huh? Oh, I said you’re a big chap, ain’t you…meant nothing by it, old boy, and you’ll soon lose some of the baggage trapped down here with me, unless of course together we charge those two when they…”
“…No, no, no, I meant who did you just say you were down here with?”
“Oh, um, he went by the name of Sheehan, some Paddy lieutenant and a bloody nice chap…never stopped boasting that he knew you…seems like I know you myself after all that. Anyway, the damned business was that he knew Dolan and was offered a captaincy with the Greys. Well, what cavalryman worth his stirrups would turn that down? Only, when he arrived with his papers and hopes of a brighter future he was beaten about the nob and thrown down here with me. The man was told it was all because he’d spread rumours about Dolan being poor whilst in Ireland and it’d helped cause the whore to spurn him. Well, sir, what woman wants to be with a laughing stock, after all…the village idiot, what, and a poor one at that?” He scratched under his unwashed beard and coughed. “Sheehan was taken away some days ago and I’ve not seen him since. Dolan obviously held a grudge against the man, but as for myself,” he held out his palms in an acknowledgement of confusion and shrugged, “don’t think I’ve not had chance to ponder that very question, Captain. But I’m damned if I can come up with anything.”
“Norris, you say your name is?”
He nodded and I stroked my chin. I’d thought the name was relevant when he introduced himself, but now, with this new information I was certain.
Captain Norris was the man who’d met Dolan’s whore and married her, for what reason I couldn’t comprehend but then not all men had my sense. To look at Norris was to see a handsome man, even beneath his present unfortunate aspect. Clearly he’d been kept prisoner for several months, his beard, weight and overall manner were evidence to that. But he still possessed warm eyes and a friendly face, a strong jaw and good overall build. If his refined public school boy accent was anything to go by then doubtless he was also wealthy and I could quite easily pi
cture him cutting a dashing demeanour, even for an infantryman - Oh, it was no wonder Dolan hated the man and wanted him kept down here at his own pleasure and unlike myself and Sheehan, Norris obviously hadn’t been told of his crimes. I could only imagine it was some silly issue of pride and Dolan not wanting to face the man who’d taken his woman.
But I needed to be sure here. “And you have no idea whatsoever why you were taken?”
He shook his head and threw up his arms. “None. I’d never even heard of this man Dolan before I was kidnapped. One moment I was playing cards at a private member’s club in London, the next I’m passed out. When I roused I had the most blinding pain in the jaw and ribs and it felt like I’d even been kicked several times in the family jewels by Gad.” It sounded like in comparison I’d got off lightly. “I mean, I can understand why Dolan might hold a grudge against Sheehan, but myself?” He shrugged and looked on helplessly, the pain in his face evident. “Tell me, Captain Strapper, what do you know? Why are you here and are there any dots you can help me connect just so I can make sense of this whole sorry situation. If there are similarities, then perhaps we can figure it all out?” He stamped his foot and clenched his visibly shaking fist. “The hardest part of it all, other than missing the wife of course, is not knowing. It’s enough to drive a man insane, I tell you.”
Now I was on the spot. Of course, I could tell Norris I was responsible for the switch flicking inside Dolan’s head, his subsequent insanity and the fact the three of us were experiencing such misery, Norris more so than anyone else. I could tell him the whole truth of how Dolan saved my life before I welshed on paying him, how it was I who spread the rumours to discredit Dolan to cover my own back just in case he should ever talk and I could also tell Norris how he was married to Dolan’s former whore and that I’d also once boarded her. The information I knew would complete the puzzle for the poor tortured man. But who in my position would divulge it?
Not Dead Yet: A Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1 - 2 Page 27
