Ch.13b. No.5 (Joe)

[Philulhu]

Joe had barely taken a sip of his tea when a nurse looked through the doorway. “Father, can you come?” she said. “We have someone who needs you.”

The nurse lead him quickly back upstairs and into one of the wards. Everywhere he looked, men were being treated. Some reacted stoically, others screamed in pain. The room was rich with the smell of blood, vomit and the sharp antiseptic tang of carbolic acid.

The nurse pointed to a bed in the corner. As Joe approached, he could see most of the soldier’s face was covered in bandages, the shape of which suggested that most of the man’s lower jaw was missing. His breathing was shallow, gasping and his grip on life looked tenuous.

Another priest was already knelt in prayer by the soldier’s bedside. A large man with a thick, black beard, he was incanting a prayer in a deep voice. He looked up at Joe and beckoned him to join him in prayer, holding the soldier’s hand as his life force ebbed away…

[jp1885]

Steeling himself to perform Last Rites, Joe crosses himself and then joins the bearded cleric in prayer.

[Philulhu]

The young soldier struggled on but eventually his breathing ceased and he lay still. The bearded priest pulled the blanket up over his face and knelt in silent prayer.

After a few moments, he stood up and held out a hand to Joe to help him up. ”Pombal,” he said, by way of introduction. “I am the local priest here.” His English was broken, with a heavy French accent.

“Father Pombal! I have asked you not to come in here while my nurses are working!” a strident voice came across the ward. Looking over, Joe saw the imposing figure of Mrs Ogilvy frowning in disapproval.

[jp1885]

For a moment, Joe stands with eyes closed, trying to feel something for the departed soul he had just helped usher on towards judgement. Then his eyes snap open, focusing on Mrs. Ogilvy.

“Mrs. Ogilvy, Father Pombal and I were just performing Last Rites on this poor soul. I trust it’s not too much of a hindrance to request a little peace?” he asks, somewhat sternly.

“I am your new chaplain after all, and Father Pombal is… What is your official status Father?” he asks.

[Philulhu]

“He has no official status!” snapped Mrs Ogilvy. “I don’t know why Major Parker doesn’t show him the door. If it was up to me your bags would be packed!” She stabbed an angry finger in the direction of the French priest to underline her point.

[jp1885]

Joe looks from one antagonist to the other and frowns. Hands held up as if to separate two punch-drunk boxers, he interposes himself between them.

“Perhaps we should all calm down; for the sake of our charges if nothing else. Then, perhaps you’d both like to explain to me what’s going on. Why all this antagonism?” he asks, an edge of authority in his voice.

[56] = 56
Persuade 65 (if needed) d%: [ 56 ] = 56

[Philulhu]

Oops, that should read “He has no official status!” - I’ve amended it now.

The ward had gone quiet with a collective intake of breath as everyone waited to see what Mrs Ogilvy was going to do next. Before she could speak, there was the crash of broken glass from one corner of the room and she whirled around to see a red-faced nurse, holding a hand to her mouth. “Nurse Walters! I’ve warned you a thousand times!” she snapped as she stalked across the ward… …

Joe felt a hand on his arm. ”Come,” said Pombal, pulling him away from Mrs Ogilvy. “Mad woman,” he said, tapping the side of head. ”No point trying to talk to her.”

[jp1885]

Joe allows himself to be led away by Pombal, but keeps his eye on Mrs. Ogilvy: if there ever was a troubled soul, then surely it was she.

“The woman certainly dislikes you; care to explain why?” he asks his fellow priest.

[Philulhu]

Pombal shrugged. ”She has no time for religion,” he said. “Don’t know why,” he said.

He looked around. After the initial flurry of the arrival of the ambulance, things seemed to have quietened down somewhat. ”Drink?” asked Pombal and he turned and trudged in the direction of the main door.

[jp1885]

“Ah go on then,” replies Joe, following the priest.

[Philulhu]

Pombal lead Joe out of the hospital and into what remained of a walled orchard off to one side. A row of tents sheltered by the wall, and Pombal lead the way to a small tent at the end, where a couple of upturned crates provided seating. As the French priest searched in his tent for a drink, Joe could see a burial party working in the distance, watched from on high by ravens in the trees, cawing loudly.

Pombal emerged from his tent with a bottle and two tin mugs. ”Calvados!” he said with a flourish, pulling the cork from the bottle and splashing a generous measure into each of the mugs. “À la vôtre,” he said, passing Joe a mug and raising his own in salute.

Can I have a listen check, please?

[jp1885]

[11] = 11
Listen 65 d%: [ 11 ] = 11
Extreme success!

As Joe raises his mug in a toast, he hears something.

[Philulhu]

If Joe didn’t know any better, he could sworn that he could hear a prayer in amongst the cawing of the ravens.

[jp1885]

Joe frowns, tilting his head to one side.

“Saints preserve us,” he whispers. “I swear those ravens are praying!”

He looks at Pombal, utterly bemused.

“Am I going mad?”

[Philulhu]

Pombal took a drink of his calvados and cocked an ear. He glanced at Joe. ”You hear it too?” he asked. He shook his head. “It is not natural,” he said.

[jp1885]

“It’s certainly very strange; can’t be actual prayers, surely? When did it start happening?”

Joe asks, trying to make out the actual words of the prayer (if indeed there are any, and it isn’t just his fraught imagination).

[Philulhu]

There were no words that Joe could make out, but he recognised the cadence of a prayer.

”Not here one day. Here the next,” said the French priest with a shrug.

[jp1885]

“Maybe we should take a look. Even in these terrible times, perhaps miracles can still happen.”

Joe can barely fathom what’s going on, but secretly hopes that a closer inspection of the birds will prove that there’s nothing out of the ordinary, because, despite his faith, he finds the idea of witnessing a miracle somehow terrifying.

[Philulhu]

As Joe and Pombal cross the ground in the direction of the ravens, the men in the burial party stop to watch. As they approach, the ravens turn their heads to study the two priests, one or two at first, but then more until they are all staring in their direction.

Standing under the tree looking up, Joe is struck by the malevolent intelligence in their coal-black eyes as the birds stare down at them… …

Spot hidden, please.

[jp1885]

[67] = 67
Spot hidden 25 d%: [ 67 ] = 67

Never the most observant of people, Joe is too bewildered to notice anything specific about this whole bizarre situation.

“I swear they’re looking at us… I think we should lay off the Calvados… I want to shoo them away, but somehow feel no good would come of it!”

He stops, suddenly aware that the burial party might overhear him. He turns and nods to them in greeting.

“Solemn work, aye lads?” he calls.