Din Eidyn Corpus (Book 2): dEaDINBURGH (Alliances) (14 page)

Gathering finally in the lower courtyard, the three allies grinned at each other like high school kids on a field trip.

“I think that it’s time you told us how you got those keys, Joseph,” Jennifer said.

A flash of sadness passed over Joey’s face. Jennifer hadn’t noticed, but Alys caught it.

“If you don’t mind, Joey,” Alys added.

Joey looked a little startled but composed himself quickly.

“Eh, aye. Okay. Let’s get a fire going and something warm to drink first though, eh?”

Interlude

Jock’s Legacy

The black-clad figure sank further back into the cover of the low wall at Castle Wynd North, certain for a moment that Brother Joseph had caught sight of him. Crouched on his haunches, he held a breath and willed his leather garments to not creak too loudly. His right hand reflexively tightened around his dirk. He had no intention of using the ancient weapon, not on Brother Joseph and his companions, but old habits died hard.

Rising slowly to stand once more, he stole a peek over the wall, confirming that Joseph and his companions had decided that his clumsy movement across the Lawnmarket had been nothing more than perhaps a rat or a dog and chosen not to investigate. With the trio’s backs to him, he was confident in slipping across and along the Esplanade to take cover and create a better vantage point for himself at the base of a stone Celtic cross. Peeking around the base of the monument, he watched the oldest of the three fiddle with the great doors of the Castle. When the doors opened and Brother Joseph and his friends slipped inside, he stifled a gasp.

He hadn’t seen Joseph in over three years, but had thought of his former friend almost every day. The young man was the reason that he was here, on the surface now. Joseph had left The Brotherhood under the threat of violence, apparently in the care of the old Padre, whose leather hunting-clothes he himself now wore and whose duties he’d convinced Father Grayson to allow him to perform. Joseph’s courage had inspired Bobby Montgomery to follow his friend’s example and prise himself from the servitude of daily life within The Brotherhood.

In the three years since Joseph had left, Bobby had taken the Padre’s place as guardian of The Royal Mile, keeping the cobbled streets clear of the most dangerous Children of Elisha. Mostly he guided, baited or forced them from The Brotherhood’s zone. Often he silenced them. He had no problem with that, not anymore, but preferred to shepherd them away from his Brothers when he could.

After waiting more than an hour for a sign of Joseph, Bobby let out a long sigh and decided to head back to The Close for a rest.

He’d been active all through the previous night and badly needed to sleep. Unsure how or even if he’d approach Joseph, Bobby decided that there would be another time. Brother Joseph had access to the supposedly impregnable Castle. He’d be back here to the Castle again.
 

 
Bobby shook his head in wonder.
Joseph was a special man. He always had been.

 
Wondering whether to inform Father Grayson of Joseph’s presence or of his accessing the Castle, Bobby decided finally that he’d give his former friend his privacy, for now. Access to the Castle was of monumentally huge significance, but Joseph had the right to decide if and when he shared his secret.

Turning to leave the esplanade, Bobby heard a flapping sound in the distance and turned to find two brightly coloured flags he didn’t recognise dancing violently in the whirling Edinburgh wind. He laughed loudly at his friend’s gallus courage, and whispered, “Elisha’s blessings on you, Young Brother,” and went home.

Chapter 14

Joey

The three of them eyed each other. Seated on a comfortable rug in the centre of a small chapel around a small but very fierce fire contained in a metal bin, they waited for Joey to talk.

 
Jennifer sipped at some mint tea and sat straight-backed against a velvet chair. Alys did likewise and chewed at some root or other she’d carried with her. After munching on some dried rabbit for longer than required, Joey steeled himself and began to talk, eyes looking into the flames.

“Like I said, I was probably twelve years old when I met him. I’d had my bow for two years by then and my body was beginning to adapt to the stage where I was becoming much, much more accurate and consistent than I’d been before.”

“Acquire a wee bit of muscle with the coming of puberty, did we?” Alys mocked.

Joey ignored her comment and continued.

“So, yes, me and my new muscles and hairs and stuff...”

Alys snorted. Jennifer rolled her eyes once again.

“I’d been up on the Esplanade training and was packing up for the day – probably had some chore or other to do for The Brothers – when this old guy darts across the Esplanade, from Ramsay Lane.

“I say darted, but really he wasn’t moving all that quickly. Age, disease, who knows what, had robbed him of any real strength or speed. I didn’t recognise him at all. This was pretty unusual. Inside our… The Brotherhood’s fences, almost no-one from outside the order ventured in. I’d been about to ask where he’d come from, if he was all right, when I heard the snarling.

“Two of The Ringed were on him in an instant. They weren’t particularly fresh or fast, they were pretty old actually, but they were faster than he was. They fell on him and began snapping at him, trying to get past the kicks and punches he threw, as well as the thick fabric of his overcoat. I hesitated.

“I honestly didn’t know what I should do. They were still The Children of Elisha to me in those days and we cared for them, offered ourselves to them if need be. I was frozen in indecision. Then I saw the terror on the man’s face and loosed two quick shots through each of their skulls.

“I tucked away my bow and helped the old guy up. He smiled at me warmly and thanked me, and then fell to the cobbles. He lay for a few minutes, conscious but weak and badly shaken. We spoke for maybe ten minutes, right there on the wet ground. He recognised me as one of The Brotherhood and told me that he understood how difficult it must have been for me to silence the two Ringed who had attacked him.

“
‘Will you accept a meal from me as a thank you, young man?’
he said.

“I figured that I’d committed a big enough sin in killing The Children, so what did missing one of Father Grayson’s classes matter in comparison? I accepted and helped him back to his camp.”

Joey looked directly at Alys.

“You remember that little shop that had been boarded up? The six Ringed who attacked us up here came crashing out from it?” Joey wiggled his half-finger at her to stimulate the memory.

Alys simply nodded, a half-smile playing on her lips.

“Well, that was his little home. Apparently it had been since the outbreak.”

Alys eyebrows raised. “That close to where it all started?”

Joey nodded.

“Aye. Anyway, he cooked me a meal that made me wish I’d let The Children eat him and told me all about himself. He’d been a gunner in the army for over twenty years and was in his mid-fifties when the plague broke. He told me that his name was Shannon.
‘Everybody calls me Shannon the Cannon, son.’
”

Joey noted that Jennifer’s face lit up with recognition.

“The guy who fired the one o’clock gun?” she asked after a moment.

“That’s what he told me. He was on-site when the plague broke, and came into possession of the keys after the place was evacuated and locked down.”

“Why didn’t he just live in the Castle?” Jennifer asked.

“He said it wasn’t proper. He held onto those keys believing that eventually the city would be rescued. He was adamant that the Castle would remain unspoiled for when that day came and he could pass the keys to his superiors.”

“Nutcase,” Jennifer said, dismissively.

Joey shrugged.

“Aye he was, but he believed what he believed and it gave him the resolve and motivation to survive for thirty-odd years at the epicentre of the plague.”

Joey eyed Jennifer, who acknowledged his words with a nod. They both knew that it took all kinds of states of mind to cope with the reality of their city.

“So, we ate, and talked. He told me of his children, his decades in the army as a gunner, of firing the one o’clock gun, his pride in doing so. He was one of the most interesting and invigorating people I’ve met in the city and he gave me a glimpse into another life, another world, when I badly needed to believe that there could be more for me than the crypts of Mary King’s Close.

“As the hours passed he got weaker and entered a fever state. Eventually he showed me his right forearm where a deep bite, hidden beneath layers of his clothes, shone out. We talked some more, he gave me the keys and asked me to make sure that the right people got them. He thanked me for being there. For not leaving him to die alone.”

Alys nodded along as he spoke, but did not interrupt.

“He died holding my hand and whispering the names of his children over and over, like a mantra. I silenced him and left, hiding the keys behind that stone before I went
home
. It was the first time I’d silenced one of The Ringed and the single most painful act of my life to that point.”

Jennifer drained the last of her tea and gave him a wink.

“Shannon the Cannon would most definitely approve of the use you’ve found for his keys, boy. We’re going to save thousands of lives, God willing, thanks to that man’s courage.”

Joey nodded his thanks.

“He told me some other stuff as well.” Rising to his feet, Joey tossed the remainder of his own tea into the fire and headed out of the little chapel. As he reached the door, he turned to face them.

“What ye waiting for? C’mon.”

Moving at a jog, Joey led Alys and Jennifer down the Lang Stairs to the moss-covered lower courtyard and towards the dungeons. Cutting to the left at the top of another staircase, Joey skidded to a halt at a wooden door with a brass plaque labelled
Artillery
.

Finding the correct key on his third attempt, a modern-looking stainless steel one, Joey shoved the stiff door open and stepped inside. Light flooded in around him, stuttering slightly as the Shephards came through the door.

Heavy canvas tarpaulins lay over most of the store. Shelves filled with a variety of brushes, oils, machine parts and other maintenance equipment lined two walls. Stacks of manuals and guides for the operation of the Castle’s equipment were lined neatly along one shelf.

Joey pulled one of the larger tarps to the side, sending a cloud of dust into the air, filling the room. As the dust of decades circulated and slowly got sucked through the doorway, Joey rubbed some grains from his itching eyes and grinned broadly at the labelled crates.

L118 Light Gun Ammunition

Flares

Gunpowder

Cutting a look at Alys, Joey grinned and turned away again to pull at another tarp, revealing a crate of Scotch and some decomposed cardboard. They couldn’t tell what had been in the dusty remains, but the whisky bottles looked just fine. Joey pulled a third tarp and prised the lid of the case it covered, revealing a tall box which held clothing of some sort. Joey tugged at the material, unfolding a very large Union Flag. He pulled again and a Saltire appeared, followed by a series of uniforms. A toothy smile beamed.

“What are you thinking, Joey?” Alys asked as he emptied the wooden crate.

Retrieving the flags, Joey held one in each hand. Raising his right hand, he asked Jennifer.

“This is the UK flag, right?”

“Yes. And that’s the Saltire, the national flag for Scotland. That one’s a symbol for unity and strength. The Saltire’s a flag for individuality and courage.”

Joey took both outside and ran back to the top of the Lang Stairs. Shooting across to the flagpole at the west corner of the building, Joey took his time preparing the nylon line that ran up the pole whilst Jennifer and Alys watched from below.

Finally, Joey pulled at the cord, hand over hand, slowly raising both of the flags high into the air for the Edinburgh wind to play with and for anyone who looked to see.

“Now they’ll believe us. Now they’ll know that we have the Castle.”

The flagpole had been empty for three decades, its former occupant having long since succumbed to the elements and time. The presence of the flags at this most visible, most inaccessible point in the city would be a beacon for those who chose to come, and proof that there was a safe place. A sanctuary.