SCENE TWELVE the same day
An odd surge of sound, like waves crashing on a distant beach, or boot heels tapping on a wooden floor above their heads, now reached the colleagues. It was coming from the brothers, still gathered acroSs the room. And as Jemison, Artie and Miguel looked, it appeared many if not all of them were clapping. Artie now mightily restrained the impulse to bow in response. And Jemmy barely managed a surprised nod. Miguel however had no such compunction, and bowed in true to-the-manor-born fashion.
"Your servant, kind sirs." The small doctor chuckled. He was mildly startled, and warmed, in the next moment to find himself surrounded by many of the youngest brothers, the Torrys, giggling and hugging, but otherwise wordlessly greeting him. These small spirits then turned to Artie and Jemison, repeating their affectionate display, wriggling and reaching and hopping for joy, it seemed.
"Looks like it worked, alright." Artie wearily muttered. "Any idea what we do next, gentlemen?"
"Maybe ask if any of them know who this damnable pipe smoker is?" Jemmy warily suggested.
But Artie shook his head. "I'm frankly a lot more concerned with where that bastard is, right now! We've just seen again, how damnably dangerous he is to the Companies, and most of all, to James. I want him tracked down and if at all possible, hung, drawn and quartered, the sooner the better!"
"And so do I, once we learn from him the exact means and methods by which he exerts these horrendous manipulations." Miguel agreed, grinning fiercely. "But I will demand we obtain those answers before his summary execution. We are still playing at guesswork here, after all. While he and the late Herr Professor Doctor Aynsley were the inventors of this damnable practice they called patterning, but which has proved far, far more destructive than simple, basic mesmeric work to ease or to block traumatic memories. "
"Wait!" Artie turned, knowing he should keep his temper, but far too worn out to do it. "Wait a second! You know what Aynsley did to Jim's memory … and to mine? You know how he did it, Doctor? And what, you just waited till now to mention that small detail?"
"Artemus, we're all worn to a nub about now…" Jemmy tried to intervene.
"Yes, and rode hard and put up wet!" Artie went on, striding closer to Miguel, his eyes were practically shooting sparks, not even glancing at Jim's cousin. "But none of us, me included, has had it as hard as James! And we haven't had the first idea from the start how to help Jim get back to himself. Well, that is, I haven't, and neither has Thomas, Jacques, Jeremy, Frank or any of the rest of our team! But now, more than a year down the road, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, El Senor Doctor de Cervantes knows exactly what Aynsley and his crew did! And I want to know, Doctor, I really want to know just when you were planning to bring that up! I want to know how long we were all supposed to wait around for your immense knowledge and experience in dickering around with other people's minds to even come into the discussion!"
"Artemus, don't do this, not now!" Jemmy exclaimed. He'd learned all the signs by this time. He knew the older man was only starting to vent his anger and exhaustion and fear. And he knew how valuable the truce Artie had called with Miguel had just now proven to be, bringing the Torrys and their brothers out of a near-catatonic state. But where Jacques or Jeremy, Frank Harper or Thomas Macquillan could likely call a halt to their long time friend and partner's temper in an instant, Jemmy had no such assurance. "We can't fight each other and the bastards who put Torry in here, too!" The Raleigh born physician declared, giving it his best try.
"Jemison, you don't know this …man the way the rest of us do!" Artie fumed, turning finally to glare at Jemmy. His face was going from red to nearly purple and his voice was getting harsher and more bitter by the instant. He stood between Jim and both doctors as if to hold them physically away from his partner. And he couldn't seem to stop bellowing.
"And we can't fight the bad guys at all while we've got one right here in our camp! I knew it! I knew he was playing us all for suckers! I knew all this time! And I tried, oh, dear G-d, how I tried to tell Mac and the rest of you, just that! And you're still buying his con! You're still letting him work his shell-game on you, right now, right here! But like I say you haven't been gulled by him in the past. You haven't been run around hell's half acre with his tricks and his lies and his poisons! So, I'm gonna give you the benefit of my experience, okay? YOU CAN't TRUST THAT LITTLE MAN AS FAR AS YOU COULD THROW THIS WHOLE DAMNABLE COMPLEX WE'rE STANDING IN RIGHT NOW!"
"If you still don't agree with your colleagues, Artemus, I have to say I'm truly sorry." Miguel said very quietly, finally entering the fray, his own temper beginning to show. "But I did not enter any agreement with you to come here and help Major West. I did so with Thomas and Jacques when they traveled acroSs country to Los Miraboles to request my assistance here. And that being the case, here I shall remain until I have done as I promised them I would…"
"To see Jim West entirely under your control in your imaginary clinic down in Richmond? Right, I remember hearing about that!" Artemus growled. He couldn't stop now. The whole situation was spinning even further out of control. He felt as if he were riding an earthquake or hurricane and couldn't even think of getting off till it died down. "We've both been in your clinics and hospitals before now, thanks very much! I won't let James set his little toe in any such place, ever, ever again!
Why don't you regale my friend Jemmy with some stories about the labs and clinics and madhouses you've pretended to run for the sole purpose of playing tricks on my partner and me? Why don't you tell Jemison all about the times you planned to drive James insane or maybe just cut up his brain? Why don't you tell the truth, for this once, just to be different? You envy and hate James West. And you still want to destroy him, even now when he's all but destroyed! Oh, and yeah, I almost forgot, you STILL want to cut into Jim's brain! Only this time, you're pretending it's for some bizarre, horrendous, mock procedure to replace his corneas with some from a corpse!"
"The procedure you mention is still experimental, I grant you that much." Miguel answered, even more quietly, even more sternly. "But it does not in fact involve brain surgery at all. You've clearly misunderstood what I've explained time and again on that question, Mr. Gordon. And I have done …a great many things in the past of which I'm not altogether proud at this juncture, perhaps you can relate to feeling that way, yourself, some times. And I have in the past envied men with better health than my own, such as Major West. However, to envy him now would be the very quintessence of madness, and thus I do not."
"Because you're not insane? Right! Sure! " Artie jeered.
"Not by any measure or definition I would accept, no. Insanity in any case, is a legal term, and therefore of very little value in any medical practice. And if we are to go on talking in such terms as madneSsand envy and other such worthleSs notions, I'd have to in all honesty, admit to my own bias, Mr. Gordon. I believe, from all you've said to this point that it is you who's presently quite overwhelmed by envy." Miguel insisted, his wide grey blue eyes alive with anger and irony.
"Envy? Envy, me?" Artie scoffed, turning towards Jemmy. "Did you hear what he said? I'm the one who's envious, here, not him! Next he'll be telling you I'm the one who should be locked away as insane, instead of either James or the "good doctor"! And all the while, all the while, Jim is stuck here, while we wait for a legal system that's patently corrupt to spring him as soon as his wastrel uncle decides to show up! And all the while we're stuck here listening to that medical prodigy over there make one pronouncement after another while nothing gets done! "
"Nothing gets done while you two stand here railing at each other, is that what you mean, Artemus?" Jemmy asked, casting an anxious glance at the Companies. "Nothing gets done while Torry and all his brothers stand around wondering if the three of us have all finally lost our minds? Is that what you're talking about? Because then I'd have to agree! We had a near disaster in here today. and that my new friends was just the tip of the iceberg, far as I can see! Have you forgotten all we're still up against, while Torry's here? Or have you decided to somehow ignore the real danger he's still in, that doesn't even take that anonymous pipe smoker into account? Do you want the short list or would you rather hear the whole damn-all thing? Never mind! I'm going to read it off and you're damn well going to shut it and hear me out! No, no, not one more word out of either one of you till I'm done!"
Miguel exchanged one surprised look with Artie, and then merely shrugged. In their brief months of acquaintance he'd rarely heard Singer raise his voice, much leSshis temper. Evidently the younger doctor had come to the end of his considerable, Quaker-trained, patience. Artie frowned and opened his mouth, against 'doctor's orders' and got an icy glare so similar to one from one of Jim's rare rages he almost blinked.
"Jem…" The former actor said, despite the doctor's injunction.
"Not one more word, d' ye hear? Not one!" Jemmy demanded, and then cleared his throat. "First, this place is clearly a fire trap, one that will fall down on our heads at the next decent harbor breeze if it doesn't burst into flames on its own any minute! Second, the stench from where they used part of the complex as a slaughter house is enough to make a cast iron stomach turn green, and the likelihood of highly infectious material still being back there is only confirmed by the smell. Third, the infections that run through the wards here like the Army of the Potomac all going home on leave or chasing Bobbie Lee's scarecrows, whichever you like better, kill a dozen men here every week, if not more.
Fourth, Torry's already just barely come through at least two bouts of bronchial pneumonia since I got here. And that was only four months back! Fifth, he's been plagued all over again with nightmares that keep him awake and he'll barely touch food unleSs Miguel, or you, or Jacques sits and coaxes him for hours. Sixth, there's clearly someone with free acceSs to this corner of Perdition who wants Torry to stay locked inside his own mind and never come out! And none of those are the worst worries I have!
Shall I tell you what those are? Yes, I shall! And you're damn well going to listen! No matter who does it or why or how or where we go, we have to get Torry and his brothers the hell out of this place on the double quick! Why? Because its the middle of winter, that's why! And all those fevers, including the pneumonia I already mentioned run even more rampant through this horrible place when it's cold and wet and there's not a dry space, or stretcher, or stool cot, or corner to rest your bones!
So, if Torry stays here the rest of this winter, my friends, another bout of pneumonia or bronchitis or both will carry him off beyond ANY HELP WE CAN GIVE! If Torry stays here even another month, I wouldn't give you odds he'll be alive in the spring! And if Torry dies now, and Artemus, Miguel, I hate putting it that bluntly but it's nothing but true, It will be ALL THE COMPANIES, ALL THE BROTHERS WE JUST MET WHO DIE HERE, LEAVING NOT EVEN A TRACE OF THEIR LIVES BEHIND, NOT EVEN A TRACE, NOT EVEN A FRAGMENT, NOT EVEN THE BROTHER WE KNOW AS MY COUSIN TORRY OR AS JAMES WEST. They all will be lost, once and for all. And more than that…" Jemison fell silent, shaking his head.
"More than that, what?" Artie demanded, shocked almost out of his anger.
"More than that, Artemus, Miguel cannot abide more than another month or two here. This last fever might have dispatched him. Even the smallest Torrys knows that. And in this climate, Miguel's hands are becoming more and more crippled. All other considerations aside, and forgive me for saying it this bluntly Miguel…" The younger doctor hesitated again.
"No, Jemison, no one understands what you're saying better than I." The older doctor told him. "Go on."
"All other considerations aside for the moment, my cousin Torry, or Jim West, if you will, will live blind, however much longer he may live. And that's simply because Miguel is the only one with the skill and the knowledge to attempt restoring his sight. Not only that, but if Torry were to lose his friend Miguel now, I don't know how the Companies would react …
I don't know that we could still reach these children, or any of their older brothers in that event, including my cousin, Torry."
"You are right, Jemison, and you are wrong." Miguel said into the silence that fell then. "I am a rather good lecturer on scientific and medical procedures. I am a gifted instructor, as well. I can teach you and Jacques the technique I would have attempted myself on Torry's eyes. And in Richmond, you would find all my research into the method. Of course, I would be glad to have a 'student' again, though I'm sure you're a quick study, Jemison. But, no surgeon in his right mind would perform anything more complicated than an amputation in this charnel house! And, of course, Mr. Gordon won't mind in the least if someone other than myself operates on Torry. Will you?"
"I'm afraid you understand me too well, Doctor." Artemus answered with a mocking bow.
"Nevertheless, you have trusted me thus far. You can hardly go back on the bargain now, especially since, as you are fond of pointing out, you never entered into it in the first place. Jeremy, Jacques and Thomas Macquillan did so. I am not by any means the only one who could work to restore Torry's sight. But I am the only one who can teach what I'm certain will have the best chance of restoring Torry's sight. Of course, as I can almost see you thinking, Gordon, if I still wished to, I could teach both those doctors how to further and finally destroy Torry's eyes, and none of you would know better, until it was fully accomplished.
But in fact I swore the same oath to Apollo, Physician as Jacques and Jemison and every other doctor, so I would not do any such thing! I'd add that I am one of the few persons these children have any great degree of trust in. Will you take me from these children now, Gordon? Will you take me away from the Torrys, to be replaced by your no doubt technically skillful impersonation of whomever it is you believe they might need? That would certainly be a hallmark in the Torrys recovery, don't you think, Jemison? This man, this actor, wants to tear me away from these children out of nothing more than spite and envy."
"Miguel!" Singer exclaimed.
"Envy?" Artemus scoffed, furious all over again. "Again, you're accusing me of envy? Of you, you maniac? I hardly think so! You say I have to trust you? Well, I don't and I wouldn't, not as far as I could throw Jim and the whole damned train!"
"Artemus, Miguel, stop!" Jemison pleaded again. But they both ignored him."
"But I submit, Mr. Gordon that indeed you must trust me now. I submit, you in fact have no choice in the matter and never have. I further submit that this useless, destructive jealousy you display is precisely the reason you were not consulted by your colleagues before they approached me to help not you, not Macquillan, not even my newly made friends Jemison and Jacques, not the President, and not the Secret Service to be sure, but that man and all of his brothers, right over there." Miguel replied, glaring at Artie. "And it is those brothers, Mr. Gordon, not I , of whom you are so bitterly envious that it now poisons the very air in this place! Come, will you actually deny that now? Will you go on believing only you can or should be able to help your young colleague and friend? Will you go on insisting only you could understand him well enough to offer such aid or such comfort? Will you go on demanding pride of place where you have earned next to none?"
Artie glared back at the doctor, and rubbed one hand acroSshis aching forehead, feeling as if it might actually split at any moment. He could feel how hot, how flushed, his face was, and he knew all the signs better than any of his doctors. He was building towards another heart seizure, and he wasn't sure he could stop. But it was more as if he could feel his own heart breaking within him. And he couldn't ask this old enemy of his and Jim's for help with that, now could he? Artemus' face was flushed and he was so focused on Miguel that both Jemison and Torry were nearly invisible to him right now. He wanted to go on raging at the small doctor but suddenly found himself staring at swallowed hard on his bitterness and went on.
"I suppose," Artemus joked cynically, 'that leaving the train out of it, I could throw Jim damnably far these days. He only weighs about ..."
"About 118 lbs, I'd hazard. Making his health in these circumstances all the more at risk." Miguel finished, as Artemus buried his face in his hands. "And that is the main reason, I believe we must act in concert and act swiftly, or any effort will be futile. Nevertheless, the real crisis here is our inability so far to reach with any staying power, the man, James West, whom Herr Professor Doctor Aynsley buried alive inside that child. Now, you seem to suggest you have some notion of what may bring Torry, or Major West, if you prefer, to full consciousneSs on a more frequent basis. And in the children's best interest, I will stand aside while you make this attempt.
But if it fails, gentlemen, I say if it fails, then you must take us both out of here to my home and my clinic, with all due haste. And I don't care if doing that takes an act of Congress! In my clinic, at least the odds of Torry's survival go up, giving us that much more time to reach him where by now he's running out of air! Well, you have the floor, Gordon, are you going to take this chance, whatever it is you have in mind, or simply give up, again? Well, are you afraid to try out your theories or … I would have to suppose your theatrical skills in the aid of your friend, that man over there, and all of his brothers?" Miguel sharply demanded.
"That man, and all of his brothers…" Artie muttered, shaking his head. He couldn't look at Jim right now, and could hardly see Jemmy standing beside Miguel. He couldn't take one glance at the Companies without feeling exactly the sort of loSs the doctor implied. And when he did, all he saw was a sea of faces he almost recognized, staring back at him in genuine confusion.
"I thought I was coming to some real understanding of them, by now. I thought I finally knew what all that was about, and why they existed. But plainly I didn't. And plainly, I still don't! And maybe it's still the damnable patterning I got, thanks to Herr Doctor Aynsley and his lovable crew, what was it, more than three years ago, now! And maybe it's not, huh?
Maybe it's just a character flaw, something wrong with me at some very deep level. But I can't do this, you see? I can't keep coming here, hoping to find my partner, and my best friend, with next to no luck! I can't wait every day for days, and weeks and now, months on end for what was it just then, thirty seconds that James seemed to be here? And yes, yes, I did, I meant to use the word 'seemed'! It's like trying to live on … birdseed, on crumbs, with a few slivers of ice! Because you see, he's not here! No, no, there are … all these others, all these children and boys and young men, and some old ones…"Artemus grimaced as he caught the eyes of some of 'these children'.
"There are only these … pieces and parts and fragments of the man I knew and worked with and called … yes, called my brother, the one I never had, the one neither one of us had, not from our parents, at any rate! So, yes, I got angry, just then. And probably I shouldn't. It's not good for my heart and it's not good for … those little boys, either. You see, I feel very much like a fellow who just got the rug pulled out from under his feet, just when he thought he'd found something like solid footing, again. I feel distinctly cheated, in fact, and … although they couldn't have meant it that way, pretty well swindled!
They're just kids, after all, or … maybe pieces of the kid Jim used to be, I guess. They're only fractions of what once was a whole person! And yet, because I said I'd try coming here to help my friend, I've been here for months, listening to these … puzzle pieces that are all Professor Aynsley left us of James. I've been talking to them and behaving as if they were real children! I've come to sympathize with and worry about them as if they were truly alive! I've even toyed with the idea of impersonating their late father for them, if that would be any help! But it won't. Nothing I do can help, now! Nothing can help Jim, anyway." Artie sighed and tried hard to calm down. "Artemus, they are alive, and they are quite real. And so, in a different way perhaps, then you're used to thinking, is the man you know, who does in fact stand in great need of all our help. Also, I must entirely believe them when they call themselves Oldest Torry's brothers, certainly we have seen them acting as such many times before today's demonstration. But, as to as you put it, "what was once a whole person," Miguel sighed.
"I would have to, in all honesty, tell you that you're correct. But not in the way you seem to understand it. The members of L Company are disassociated personalities springing from the male child born in Silver Spring, Maryland, July 2nd, 1842. That child, the original of all these brothers, the second son born to Stephen Arthur and Jessamyn Anne West does not exist any longer, and has not for a length of time we cannot tell, not without their input on that question.
That small child and, from the physical appearance of the Torrys, of L Company, I would have to say that VERY small child, was lost beyond our capacity to recall, was destroyed beyond all hope of recovery, in a very real sense, when his hellish abuse began. Torry Babyboy , if I understand the order of that roster correctly, was the first-born of the Companys and took up that original child's place. Then, following him, as their ordeal continued, so did forty six others. How their older cohorts came to be, is another question which I believe only the Companys can answer." "El Senor Doctor is quite correct in saying what we are able to answer, M'sieur Artemus." another of the Veterans called out, getting everyone's attention. This was a dark, tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked figure with a shining white plume in his wide hat, and an elongated nose more like the beak of an outsized eagle or hawk. "Pardonez, moi, perhaps I should not have interrupted your... discussion, but after the service you've done the Companys today, I felt it to be nothing more than my duty, M'sieur."
"And if I'm not mistaken, you would be..." Artie started to ask, frowning at the interruption but nevertheless intrigued by this "brother". "As with mon Capitaine-Lieutenant Athos, M'sieur, I am a member of V Company, and un homage paid to one Hercule Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac, that character in M'sieur Rostand's work, who was himself un homage to the renowned, original gentilhomme, at your service, M'sieur, if you will so accept. Pray tell, though, how was it you recognized me so quickly, mon ami?" The Veteran asked with an oddly Gallic version of a very Westian grin.
"Well, in all honesty, for two reasons, M'sieur. It happens I've acted in and directed Rostand's play numerous times; it's one of my favorites. And then of course there's your... inimitable...panache." Artemus answered, biting back a taut grin of his own, and then pointing to the plume.
"Merci, m'sieur, merci. Very well put, I might add." Cyrano replied with a sweeping bow. "Now, since V Company is off duty at present, I am at leisure and I would be glad to answer either or both of the questions currently posed. Which shall I start with, s'il vous plait?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure I'm up to hearing any more "answers', right now." Artie said, shrugging and shaking his head. "Except for maybe this one: You're part of V Company, you say? Alright, here's MY question, the one I'm not sure I WANT the answer to but ... I have to know it, wanted it or not: Is Jim West... is the man I've worked with, lived with, argued with, the man I've partnered since the first winter of the War, is he NOTHING MORE than one more fragment of that tiny child the doctor was just describing? That's what I'm still struggling with, you see. Because from the time I first learned they were... you were ... here... that's what I haven't really understood at all, it seems."
"No, not seems, I STILL DON't UNDERSTAND HOW THAT COULD BE! How could I know someone as well as I ... thought I knew my partner, and NOT KNOW Jim has... what is it, four times forty seven, minus one - making a total of one hundred and eighty seven "brothers' somehow living hidden inside him? How could I know him for twelve years and nearly two months, now, and not know that Jim is just ONE OF A HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT ... people all inside the same mind, the same frame, the same ... spirit, I guess? You see, that right there is my problem in a nutshell, M'sieur de Bergerac! I suppose I might have gotten a hint a few times along the way. But I didn't. I suppose everyone who's ever met Jim would describe him as being mercurial at times, even volatile, under the right, or maybe I should say the wrong conditions. But I never once considered ... "
"Pardonez moi encore, M'sieur, but speaking as one of Oldest Torry's confreres in particular, I believe you have in fact at one time or another considered the question of our volatile nature. I believe you have also wondered about the source, the raison d'être of our often, apparently stoic, unmoved demeanor. You have a fine mind indeed, a keen gift for observing the world and the people around you, as well as a lively curiosity, mon ami. I am quite sure you have indeed had occasion to ponder the quicksilver way in which Oldest may have seemed to change from an angry affect to one of jesting, or from a mood of quite somber discussion, to one in which he enjoyed a grand ball as much as any man you know, to one in which he would far more enjoy "a good brawl'? Am I not correct in saying so, M'sieur Artemus?"
"And that was simply me, seeing different brothers, is that what you're saying?" Artie asked, reluctantly nodding.
"Precisement, M'sieur." Cyrano agreed. "We knew you were understanding this ... understanding us far better than you believed."
"But you still haven't answered my question, really, have you?" Artemus insisted. 'my question is not about what I saw or didn't see, thought or didn't think, all this while. My question is about Jim West. And maybe I'm gleaning a part of the answer from what you're saying and not saying to me. Let me try this on you: Your roster lists NO ONE by the name James Torrance Kieran West, no one going by the name Jim, and no one using the title Major West, either.
And not once in the past many months have I heard even one Company member refer to him by that name, the name the rest of the world, outside N'folk, Raleigh and San Antonio calls him, James West. So there's a real dichotomy going on here, it seems to me, one that has very little to do with the Companies. And it goes right back to my question: IS THERE A REAL PERSON named James Torrance Kieran West at all, or have you simply continued to use the birth name of someone WHO DOESN't EXIST ANY LONGER, to support some kind of a legal fiction?"
"Oui, et non, M'sieur, tu a raison, dans piece." Cyrano answered. "As part of our ongoing mandate to protect Oldest, as well as Courier, YJ, and Babyboy-Torry, we have blatantly made use of our lost brother's biographical information, his birth certificate, his christening, our communion, and confirmation records as well as..."
"Cyry, you'd best stop with your half-baked answerin' questions you cain't rightly answer, right there." a boy's voice called out now, interrupting the discussion again. This speaker, as Artie, Jemmy and Miguel turned to see him, appeared to be a slender boy of eleven or twelve, with thick, sandy hair and wide grey-green eyes set in clear, handsome young features. "You know better than to go spoutin' off that way, or you surely should, by this time! Honestly, sometimes I think V Company needs to go back to school with the Ls for a year or two, or four or five to learn when not to go flappin' their jaws!"
"And at MOST times, Baronet, I must say it is W Company whose manners require a great deal more polish, whose diction is in a sad state of repair, and whose discretion needs a great deal more work!" Cyrano answered, frowning cynically at the good looking boy. "So we would seem unlikely to reach any rapprochement on those matters, non?"
"Except for this time, Cyr, when the Baronet here has stumbled right onto being exactly correct." A third party announced, this being a tall, thin youth, dressed in a similar style to the Veteran, but far more elaborately detailed, with the sharp features most of D Company shared, dark brown-auburn hair like Courier's and flashing grey eyes. " Ls have The Watch now, or Shad'o would be right here, right now, telling you off. But he's not here and Oldest's trying to sleep, otherwise, you wouldn't have even got a chance to start yammering away on your own, and you damned well know it, M'sieur. So you're just telling tales out of school as they say. And what is worse, you're getting them all wrong, turned about, mixed up, and whopper-jawed, six ways from Dimanche!"
"de Guiche, old friend, well, perhaps friend is too strong a word," Cyrano began to protest.
"HOLD IT!" Artemus finally shouted in his best 'reaching the back of the theatre" manner and voice, thoroughly frustrated with them all and this "conversation' in which he and Jemmy and the doctor all seemed forgotten. "Just stop it right there! I thought there was some kind of accord established between the Companies. You all claim to be Jim's brothers, well that means you're each other's siblings, too. So what the hell are you doing here, fighting amongst each other this way?"
"The same thing you are doing, M'sieur, when you fight with the colleagues to whom you say you are as close as any born-brother could be. We react to one another as any other lot of siblings are wont to do in strained circumstances, which these are, to say the very least, M'sieur Temus." De Guiche bluntly answered. "For example, despite having quite as much to do with our present troubles as we do, Cyr's V Company's members, by and large much prefer to blame the entire debacle on my own D brothers.
And the Baronet's W Company confreres aren't far behind in that regard, but having definite seniority, and indeed some real maturity above and beyond what 4th Company has achieved to date, they know when to make an alliance that HELPS ALL CONCERNED, instead of only gaining some slight benefit for, or accruing some small credit to themselves alone! You will have understood by now that V Company are in truth the last born of "notre famille", non, M'sieur? That being the case they have for some time been known to act rashly more often than not, and to speak before giving the matter they would discourse on any deep thought. You may have in fact observed those phenomena where Oldest Torry is concerned, at one time or another."
"In spades!" Artie agreed, almost chuckling, and he would have gone on but the brother called Cyrano clearly had something more to add.
"Mon Baron, if you will kindly withdraw", Cyrano angrily started once more to protest. "YOU ARE NEITHER NEEDED NOR MUCH WANTED HERE. Indeed, D Company's standing at present doesn't allow you much leeway if any for the casting of stones, insults or aspersions. Now, M'sieur Temus, I will try in brief to articulate this matter for you. We call ourselves Oldest Torry's brothers, because in every sense but physical birth, that's who we are. Each of the Companies, from the L's First, to W Company's Second, to D Company at Third, down to my own V Company at Fourth has shared the experiences and emotions, wrongs and honors of our first-born confreres..."
"Cyr, you were given a clear, direct order to cease and desist this line of discussion." De Guiche growled, cutting his younger brother off. "And I wouldn't want to be in your boots, OLD FRIEND, when Shad'o, just for starters and then the rest of L Company decide on your reprimand for crossing the line. You can be too much like your role model at times for your own good, and you know that as well as I."
"But, I still don't have an answer to my question, now do I? Can you answer it, Baron, or can you Baronet... de Neuvillette, I presume?" Artie demanded.
"Well that's right, that part of it, I'm styled after Christian de Neuvillette. But... no, not for the other..." The Baronet answered, looking genuinely downcast, now. "As the Companies got set up, and as they still run up till now, answerin' questions like those are strictly detailed to the eldest, the first born of us. To be more near exact, that would be all of L Company, starting with 's why I come over and told Cyry he was plumb outa line just then. He plain jumped over it a good mile, that time, in fact. I'm sorry, and I don't mean t' be contrary, but it's them y"gotta ask, just outa plain common sense, can you see that? They ... well, they got here first, so they know how it all went.
But there's one or two things we can tell you, that Cyry got plain wrong, without bustin' regs in all directions. First, we're as real as we know how to be, M'sieur Artie, we ain't liars, or frauds. We ain't some kid's play-pretends. We kinda figured you had that all sorted out for yourself, by now. An' second, ain't no one in any of the Companies, not even some of the more crazed D's, an' beat-up Vs, ever set out t' use The First-Born's name an' all just for our own good an' nothin' more! We only done it like that Capitane Athos was sayin, b"fore, because we COULDN't LET ON the Companies was even here, that's all. Why if we had done, Oldest Torry, Cour, YJ, an' Babyboy, and all th' rest of us...we coulda been in worse trouble than we are now, today! You can see that, cain't you? So far as we knew, all this time, eight tenths of the grown folks we've ever run into, they weren't ever t' be trusted, not worth a damn!"
Artemus nodded, feeling his anger give way to something much more like compassion, again. "I thought I had that all sorted out too, as a matter of fact. And I knew some of those eight tenths, myself, growing up, out in the city. And, thanks. If you're including me in the other two-tenths, I gueSs I'd better start doing something to deserve it. I'm not really sure what that should..."
"Yous done veriest many guddes'a'ready, temus-Poppa! Yous figgered all us'ns callin' up listin'! Yous done so veriest gud!" A child's plaintive voice called out. Then a crowd of 'Ls' raced into the ward, and Artie found himself being fiercely hugged by first one and then a good dozen or more of Jim's smallest and eldest brothers. The first of these, a waifish, black haired, bright eyed child, of maybe three and a half or four, stepped back a bit, and then lifted a tearily smiling face up towards the agent. "Wees does be lovin' yous so many much, temus-Poppa b"fore dat, an den yous did so veriest guddes', gen', helpin' us'ns!"
"Did I?" Artie shrugged, surprised again by how the child was able to reassure him, almost as if their roles were somehow, reversed. "Well, that's good to know. Because up to that moment I was feeling extraordinarily helpleSs in this situation. And of course you know it took my old friend Jemison to tell us what sort of listin' your brothers left us to find. And then it was ... Miguel who realized what we needed to do with the watch rotation, at pretty much the same time as me... And you're Shadow, is that right? You're the eldest of these ... particularly quarrelsome fellows? Wait, you're the eldest, and THAT's why First Company is called 'l'?"
" Mees Shad'o, an' dems mees Four, yes, temus-Poppa, an' dat's some much of dat, yes, but no all. D'ovver part is wees Littlers, wees no boys like us'ns Dubbyuhs, no grown boys like us'ns Dees, an' no grown folks like us'ns Vees neever." Shad'o nodded, grinning widely, as if amazingly proud of Artie's deduction. "An wees...camed first, so dats bein' d'ovver part why wees Firs' Com'nee. It goed like dis:
Us'ns Firstest Brovver, hims dat camed "fore all us'ns Com'nees, was hardly even no more a baby den, hims was jus'started t' be runnin' roun Gramma's Place, an did be some more fallin' down, an was jus' be start talkinup den. An den camed us'ns Ehls, us'ns Firs' Com'nee. But wees no had us'ns sekkon birfday den, no fer 'most eight mor monfs, ... Den camed us'ns guddes' Dubbyuhs, us'ns Sekkon Com'nee, on dem veriest saddy, skeeredy times when us'ns guddes' veriest own momma did go "ways far n' far, t' be a angel.
Wees was just den all fi" many ol, wen dem veriest skeeredy, saddy times camed. Den camed us'ns guddes' Dees, us'ns Fird Com'nee when wees was pretty many much of no feel guds, an' did have lots maddies an' lots saddies an us'ns veriest own Poppa him gots veriest sicky an' mos'went t' be a angel too! Wees was mos'ten when dem bad ol' times camed. An afer dat, camed us'ns guddes' Vees, us'ns Forf Com'nee, in dem ol' Waor times, an' wees did be need t' be dem reely sojers den. Us'ns guddes' Vees did camed startin' wif dem ol' Waor times, when dere was so many saddy, so many baddy fings... An' yous did knows wees was mos' twenny-ones when dem ol' Waor times camed. So dat be dem ansers fer yer askin', yes, temus-Poppa? Yes, Mee-gel?"
"You didn't yet have your second birthday? " Jemmy echoed, shocked almost voiceless, staring wide eyed at Shad'o.
"For nearly eight months after? "Miguel went on when Jemmy fell silent, and shook his head, unable to continue with the thought, much leSs the words.
"Shadow, you were" Artie said, taking his turn, rubbing at his left temple, swallowing hard on his own dismay. " ... that little boy ...was only SIXTEEN MONTHS OLD?"
"Dats so." Shad'o nodded sad eyed.
"Sixteen months old?" Miguel and Jemmy chorused, aghast. Then Miguel turned to look back across the "prize room' to where Jim West still lay, apparently so deeply asleep that in most other circumstances, the doctor would have been concerned for his patient's level of consciousness. But in this case the doctor could only wonder if his former adversary was at all aware of these brother-selves of his or their origins. And if James West did not know these elements of his own psyche, better not to introduce them, or the idea of their existence too abruptly, Miguel de Cervantes considered. But there was another, lesser item causing him some concern. According to his own long-term dossier on West, the agent had been born July 2, 1842. Now little 'shadow" seemed to be saying that datum was in error, off by two years! That discrepancy called for further investigation, surely, but not now.
"Please excuse our outbursts, Shadow." Jemmy was saying, blinking at unshed tears that brightened his hazel eyes, as Miguel turned his attention back to their discussion. "We simply had no idea, no idea whatever as to just when... as to just how long ago the Companies ... came to be. And now, now that you've told us, I have to admit I'm shocked and terribly sad to hear just how long you've had to deal with ... all this ... by yourselves. All by yourselves, I mean, without anyone else ... even guessing! That is, if... if I understand you correctly, you're saying L Company came into existence, thirty one years and four months ago. Is that ... right, Little cousin?"
Shad'o scrunched his face, concentrating hard and seeming to count his small fingers several times, before he answered. "Dat's how many long, yes, Jemmee-Cous'n. But yous no need be so many much saddy. Wees no culd 'llow enny peepls be guessed "bout us'ns, long an' long. An'wees no culd be teld enny peepls b'fore nows. Nows Cyry an'Bari brovvers, yous did be start teld dees parts. An' yous many much worryin us'ns guddes' frens, cause of dat. Dat's veriest no gud, ever t' be doin', even mor pecially when dems jus' did help us veriest guddes', gen! So, nows you do be finishin' up nows, plees. An' no be teld wifou' be ast gen, yes?" The seeming child demanded, turning to frown at both the Veteran and the Witness in his "Four".
"Right, Shad," Baronet nodded shame-faced.
"Oui, M'sieur. Et pardonez moi, M'sieurs all." Cyrano agreed, bowing with evident deference to the "child'. Then he turned and bowed again to the three colleagues." I made a great error in assuming you had already deduced, already come to comprehend much of what I was ... saying, if not precisement, in those terms. I profoundly regret overstepping my bounds and causing you such dismay. Indeed, I'm not at all sure I should not leave it to you, M'sieur Shad'o, to ease notre si bon amis shock, that is, if you would be so kind, M'sieur."
"Fanks yu, mees will." The child, obviously the real authority figure there nodded as graciously as any monarch, Miguel thought, and then turned to face the three colleagues. "Yous does be veriest 'mart, an' fin, an' many much helpin', an'us'ns guddes' frens. But wees knowd yous cain't be un'tand ev"fing bout us'ns Cmpnees, no righ ways. So wees veriest sorrees wees maked dis many big, no veriest gud "prize on yous. An' wees no wantad no telld yous dis. Yous mebbee needin' t' be knowd dis, fer helpin' us'ns Oles', an' us'ns Cmpnees mor:
Wees camed, started up wif Ehl Comnees Baby-boy Torry, when dat veriest maddy, veryiest baddy an' skeeredy mans did be camed t' us'ns Gramma Je's howse. An hims camed in dat winder, some b"for Crismassstimes, afer us'ns guddes' Furstest Brovver had hims firs' birfday dat summers. An'hims did make... dat bad an' skeeredy mans... did make veriest many much of skeeredys, owwys, an' hims did veriest baddes' fings... hurtin' on Furstest Brovver. But wees no culd gots Furstest Brovver in us'ns Ehls. Wees culdn'- hims ...did be a'ready dere, a'ready borned, yous know? An' den hims gotted too many hurted... so, afer dat, wens us'ns guddes' Dubbyuhs beginned to came, wif us'ns Younges' Jaimey, dat we calld fer us'ns bestes Grampa Jaimey, wees did makt us'ns Furstest Brovver a gud seekrit place...down' th' hill b'side Gramma Je's guddes quiyat Sunday place fer singin an' talkinup reel quiyat, an ... dem kinda fings..."
"Shadow," Artie started to ask, his whole manner and his tone very subdued and saddened. "Do you mean to say you and your brothers made a place for this tiny brother… this first born brother of yours, down the hill from your grandmother's house… beside the church she helped get started there?"
"Yeah-uh-huh. Dats where. Wazz otay wees did dat, temus-Poppa? Wazz otay, Jemmee, Mee-gel? Wees thot it mi" mebbee otay, cos us'ns Drew-Little mor oldr brovver, an' us'ns Cyndy-Little mor oldr sissah, an' us'ns Rand-Little cuzzin did be hev plaases dere, when dems went … t' be angels."
"That was very okay, Shadow. That was a very fine and brave and loving thing to do, in fact." Artemus answered for the trio, pushing the words past the tears burning in his own throat now. All he could think about, all he could see, far more vividly than he ever wanted, was a tiny boychild-called "Babyboy"; a toddler, really, not yet a year and a half old. And all the actor could feel was pure horror, that a defenseleSschild had been essentially obliterated by the actions and the cowardice of a vicious madman!
"But Shadow, this must be incred… very hard for you to even talk about. And you've already been through so much, today. So, maybe, it would be a good idea to take this slow, or even to stop for now. Some of your other brothers seemed to think you weren't ready… for all this… Of course, with that being said, I'm not sure anyone ever could be… ready to talk about … this kind of nightmare…"
"Wees knowd dey fink so, temus Poppa. Us'ns guddes' brovvers allus wantad t' be p'tect us'ns Ehls…An wees does be lovin' dat dey wantad. But reely deys gots dat kinda turnded roun. Wees did be camed t' be p'tect us'ns brovvers… Wees gots t' … "pecially cos wees culdn't p'tect Furstest Brovver… wen hims wazz just as many much us'ns brovver!" Shad'o shook his head, his wide eyes shining with tears, his small chin jutting fiercely and his child's hands balled into fists.
Artie knew he was staring at the child, and glanced quickly over at his colleagues; wordlessly asking if they saw and heard what he had. Miguel and Jemison nodded back, looking to Artemus to be, once again, equally astonished. Every gesture, tone and expression Shad'o used were small mirror images of Jim West making an angrily determined declaration. It was almost more than Artie could stand, in fact, seeing how clearly this seeming child mirrored his 'oldest brother". It made his head swim when the realization hit that instead, Jim West was one of Shad'o's youngest brothers! The terror, from which that brotherhood was born, was more than the San Francisco born agent could imagine. The marvel to him was that anything helpful, auspicious, or encouraging, much leSs anything good could have come from the living hell these child-spirits endured!
"All right, Shadow." Miguel said, taking his turn with the child, he took Shad'o's hand and rubbing the child's small back to ease him. "All right. We surely understand the feeling one can have when one is unable to help one's brother… And we know that whatever you are able to tell us can only help us help your oldest brother, when he's more frequently awake and aware once more."
"Wees did be knowd yous un'stan lots bout us'ns brovvers an' us'ns Com'nees, Mee-Gell." Shad'o said in a quieter tone, but one no leSssimilarly determined than his 'oldest' brother when trying to persuade, cajole or otherwise win a point with someone. "An wees are veryiest gladder wees gots guddes' frens dat can un'stan dis… Wees thot long an' long an' long dere warn't nobody culd be un'stan dis… hows wees camed…"
"We're working hard to understand it better, all the time, Shadow." Jemmy offered, patting the child's head. "But I think you've done more than enough to help us do that, for one day. So, I'd really like you to get some rest now, or as soon as your turn on Watch is over."
"Otay Jemmee Dokker. Bari-brovver, does us'ns Dubbyuhs be readied fer us'ns Ehls t' be hand off th' Watch?" Shad'o asked.
"W Company's all present and accounted for, Shad'o, ready to take Watch." Baronet answered with a stiff, Regular Army salute. 'l Company may stand down whenever you're ready, Sir. And again, I'll apologize for jumping in, getting ahead of things, Sir."
"Izz otay, Bari. Wees all had same many much of troubles t'day an' wees all be lots tiredy from dem. But wees need t' be mor of trustin' us'ns guddes' frens t' figure stuffs out when thems be needin' to. Thems gots veriest gudder thinkers, an thems does be helped us'ns Com'nees veriest much a'ready, otay?" The child asked, looking and sounding like nothing so much, Artie thought, as a C.O. chiding a green lieutenant.
"Yes, Sir." Baronet nodded again and with one more salute, took up his post behind Shad'o And now, as Artemus, Jemison and Miguel watched, Each WitneSsmoved to stand a half step in front of, a half step to one side or just behind each Littler in an unmistakably protective stance. That done, each of those pairs of brothers crossed the prize room together until each Littler was leaning, lying or curled up, sound asleep, next to a Veteran. And finally, each of these trios, with either a Witness or a Veteran carrying their Littler in each case, made their way back across, until each Veteran held his post beside a Defender, and each Defender had taken his place next to a Witness, thus completing the quads.
"So that's the Watch." Artie noted, quietly amazed, his dark eyes brightened by unshed tears.
"Yes, I believe we are seeing once more both the purpose and the execution of that brotherhood at the same time." Miguel agreed. "And if you will allow me, Mr. Gordon, Jemison, there's something I need to express to you, but somewhat more privately, please."
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