Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (11 page)

“How is it, then, William?”

The use of his name made William look up in surprise. He paused before returning to his inspection.

“It’s good. It’s really good.” He was surprised by the sincerity in his voice, even more so when he realized how much he meant what he said.

He had not touched the floorboard in his bedroom for three weeks. As the days went by, the anger had drained from the memory of his report in the Director’s office. Christopher was mistaken, that was all; he was upset over all the bloodshed in his jurisdiction and had allowed his wrath to cast its net a little too wide. William was as certain as ever that his friends were not part of the “something bigger” the Director seemed convinced was coming. William would make sure they never were. He was no longer a spy – now he was a guardian.

He would find out where the real trouble lay, report it, and when it was all over he would go home; and until then, he would make the best of his temporary life. It wasn’t so hard an assignment. William held up the apple in his hand and smiled at his reflection in the shiny surface. The reflection smiled back.

Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it, Glasgow. I knew you would fit right in, so I did. I thought it the first time I saw you. You looked like you could use some good, and if there’s anyone to give out good in this world, it’s Gerald and Mary.”

“Aye. They’re good people.”

“So are you, Will.”

William turned to look at him. Adam left his hand on William’s shoulder for a moment longer, then let it fall to his pocket. He drew out his own wallet and, before William could protest, pulled out a paper note and gave it to the boy. William chuckled as they walked away, tugging Ruan behind them.

“What’s funny?” said Adam.

“Nobody ever calls me Will.”

“But William is so serious. You’ve too much spirit in you for a name like that.”

William shrugged and pulled an apple from the sack. “It’s my name, as Adam is yours. We only get the one, you know.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong
– I was confirmed Adam Joseph Augustine.” He plucked the apple from William’s hand and took an enormous bite. “I just don’t like to brag about it, is all.”

“Yes, I’ve always thought you were the soul of modesty.”

They came to a display of hats, dandy little things in the latest styles of pressed felt. William picked one off the table and propped it on top of Adam’s cap. “Well, your head can still fit in a hat, anyway.”

Adam swatted his hand away, laughing. He set his apple down and took off the hat, turning it over in his hands. “Nice, very nice. You’ve got some taste, Glasgow.”

William grinned. “Go on then, take it home. I’ll bet Sarah Reilly will be suitably impressed.”

Adam glanced at him from the corner of one eye. He put the hat back on the table and examined its companions, drawing his finger across the rows of black and gray felt. “Oh? And what makes you think I’d be wanting to impress Sarah Reilly?”

William considered saying the first thing that came to his mind, but instead he went the tactful route. “You’re sweethearts, aren’t you?” Smirking, he added, “She seems to have the most claim on you, at any rate.”

“Aye, well.” Adam smiled with fond affection. “She’s a good, kind-hearted lass, Sarah. We’ve been close for many years now. I’ve been looking out for her since her brother died these three years past, God rest him.” He crossed himself quickly.

William’s smirk vanished. “I’m sorry. Were you mates, then?”

“Aye, since we were lads. Daft little bugger got himself shot throwing rocks at the army. He never did know when to pick his fights.” His forefinger touched one of the ribbons dangling in front of his face. “He was only eighteen.”

William started to speak, but Adam shook his head. “I told his mother I’d watch after Sarah and keep her out of danger, and I’ve done so to this day. It was the least I could do for Kevin.” He looked at William, and his good humor returned. “I’ve been taking care of her ever since.”

“And does her mother know how you’ve been ‘taking care of her’?”

Adam picked up his apple and took a bite. “I take care of her the same way I took care of her brother,” he said, and left William gaping by the row of hats.

By the time William collected himself and caught up, Adam was guiding Ruan along the pavement, smiling. “Aye, she’ll make someone a fine wife someday, but it shan’t be me.”

“Not a marrying man?”

“No, I don’t think so. I love the lasses, Lord knows, but I never found one I could see myself spending the rest of my life with.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right one yet.”

“Maybe not.”

William became aware of a faint sound, like wind chimes, and looked across the lane. In a sunny corner an elderly woman sat beside a little stall full of rows and rows of hanging beads clattering together in the breeze. William could see crosses swinging among the strands and realized they were all rosaries.

The old woman looked up when William’s shadow fell across her. Her eyes were filmed over with thick white cataracts, but she smiled and said, “God bless you, my boy. Tis a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

William was amazed. “Did you make all these?”

“Aye, every one.”

He reached out and touched the nearest strand. The beads were small, green and white, some kind of polished glass with a cross of what looked like ivory or white shell. A small circular knot had been carved in the center of the cross. William slid his thumb over the delicate pattern.

“Need a prayer to be said for your soul, then, Glasgow?”

He turned to see Adam standing next to him. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “Unfortunately I wouldn’t know what to do with it, being…”

“A Prod?” Adam grinned. “Well you know what they say, nobody’s perfect.”

William chuckled and went back to examining the beads. “A Prod,” he said, testing the word on his tongue. “I guess I’m not really much of anything, actually. I’ve made my own way since I was small. In my experience, after all I’ve seen, I don’t have much reason for faith.”

“I don’t think that’s true
– I think you have more than you know, or else you wouldn’t keep going. In my experience, after all I’ve seen, faith is all a man has to hold onto.”

William covered his discomfort with sarcasm. “So you’ve seen everything, then, in your grand long life?”

“I thought I had,” Adam said.

William closed his mouth. Adam looked at him for a moment, then smiled and grabbed him around the shoulder. “C’mon Glasgow, let’s go get something to eat. Perhaps I’ll teach you how to say grace.”

William sat on the steps of a tenement building and scratched Ruan’s jiggling belly. The dog panted in gratitude and nipped playfully at his sleeve; William cooed at him, listening to the sounds of passers-by and feeling the sun warm on the back of his neck. He looked up to see Adam returning, two white parcels in one hand and a bottle swinging from its wire cap in the other. He sat down beside William and handed him one of the wrapped lumps; William pulled the paper back and fragrant steam curled into his face.

“Meat pies,” Adam said. “Best in the neighborhood.”

William’s stomach growled and he took a large bite. Adam pulled the stopper from the bottle with his teeth and had a drink, then offered the bottle to him – fresh cider. They ate slowly, warming themselves on the steps and watching the people stroll through the market. William thought of the markets in Glasgow, long Saturdays with his sister and the sound of his nieces’ laughter. Margaret would tell him he was too thin, buy him a cake of which he would take one bite before splitting it between the lasses to see their eyes go big and greedy. He wondered how often they went now. He wondered if the girls could see over the counters yet.

“My brother is in Boston,” Adam said.

William stared at him. “What?”

Adam had finished his lunch; he crumpled the paper and sat back against the steps with his hands in his pockets, leaning on his elbows, his face turned up to the sun.

“My brother. Michael. The Brits think he died in the Rising, but he didn’t. He got busted up pretty bad, but Andy knows people with ships and they got him out. First to the Continent, then to America.”

“Adam
—
”

“I was just a boy then, you know. Michael never would let me join up with the army. One of us had to look after our ma, he said. But then she died, and he just…let it all go, like. Gave himself over. I wanted to help, but he threatened to thrash me senseless if he caught me getting into trouble.

“So I took to sneaking along behind whenever Mikey went out, seeing what I could see, until he made Gerald promise to keep me close and with him. He was always like a father to both of us, you know. I was spitting nails over it, but Michael told me I would be all that was left of the family after he ended up swinging from a noose. He said if I made a life for myself, then the English wouldn’t have taken everything. And then he was gone, and that was the last time I spoke to him.”

William was speechless. He didn’t know where this confession was coming from, but he did not want it. “Adam…” he began again, because no other words would come.

“I always thought if I could get up enough money, I could bring him back home one day. Not to Dublin, of course, but out in the country somewhere. Pay for a job and a new name. It’s been done before. All I needed was the money.” He had his head tilted back, eyes closed, the breeze ruffling his hair where it stuck out beneath his cap. “And then one day I talked to Danny Fisher. He told me Gerald had been running supplies out of the pub
– not the important bits, but always to the side, like, and always anonymous. Unmarked, unrecorded boxes, easy enough to slip through the cracks unnoticed.”

A chilly warning blossomed in William’s chest.

“I told Gerald I wanted to help. I said I was a man now and could choose my own way, so I could. I said I’d be under his watch, just doing my part. And I did. I ran for the better part of a year before I’d seen enough to know what wouldn’t be missed and where I could sell it. Never a whole box
– a rifle here, a case of shells there. In six months I had almost half of what I needed.”

Adam turned his head to meet William’s eyes. “I just thought it fair, you see – that you should know my reasons as I know yours. I wish I had the noble cause that Gerald and the others do. I don’t even have the honor of true vengeance as you do. Those lads that think I’m the Irish Jesse James, the lasses looking at me like I’m de Valera in a dockworker’s jacket – they’re all fooled. The truth of it is, I steal from my own countrymen because I want my brother back. That’s all.”

“That’s the noblest cause I can think of,” William said.

Something flitted across Adam’s face and was gone before William could recognize it; but he thought it almost looked like relief.

“Just be careful, Adam. Your brother wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed for him. Not by either side.”

“This is all I know, Glasgow. All a man can do is what he thinks right. If things get better, then my brother can come home. If they don’t, then I’ll do what I must to take care of him.” He dropped his head until his cap shaded his eyes. “I just… I wanted you to know. I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Ruan whined and pushed at William’s leg, thumping his tail for attention. Absently William leaned forward and patted the dog’s red fur. The air had grown too warm; he turned his face away from the sun as sweat began to prickle on the back of his neck. He scratched Ruan’s belly with one hand and put the other in his pocket so Adam could not see it shaking.

15.

March 29, 1922

William looked up from his sweeping as the front door clanged open and the pub erupted into cheers. Andy barely had time to remove his cap and coat before a score of hands were clapping him on the back and drawing him forward toward the bar, and the crowd had united in a chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” before the third lass left red lip-prints on his blushing cheeks.