Chapter 15: No More Half Measures
It was long past the end of my shift when I was finally able to return to my home and family that day in the market. Before the sun had set on the event in which Graham spared the waster who started the almost market-wide brawl, the Elders, Temple Leadership, Constable, and all the lieutenants of the Guard were aware of the situation. It wasn't until word spread about what happened with Graham in particular and my arrival with him in chains that brought the community within the walls to a halt. After being told to place Joshua Graham in a cell by the barracks, the metal and concrete insulated 15x15ft box next to Cade's, I was immediately sent to a small series of meetings with the Constable. One by one, every guardsman who was there for the first riot around the charity stalls was brought in following their replacement by reserves from the night guard who were sent to fill in. Then, every guardsman who witnessed the brawl and incident with Graham was brought before the Constable to give their interviews and statements about what happened. I was one of the first to meet with the Constable beside Lt. Camden for that first meeting regarding the initial riot. After that short interview where I didn't have much to say, I was waiting outside on a chair while each guardsman was called into the Constable's office on the top floor of the Barracks to be interviewed. The officers on patrol and the officers in charge of the overlooking tower detachments were told to stand by after the first interview, and something stuck with me as more and more guardsmen came in for the second interview.
As it may have become known, the Constable was not an angry or bad-tempered man. The man almost never raised his voice at anyone other than to perhaps call attention to someone from a distance, or to give orders over the crack of gunfire, and this event was met with such calm I didn't know what to make of it. As I sat outside his office following that first meeting, I thought back to the moments immediately after showing up before the Constable with Graham in a pair of shackles. By that time, the Cosnsable was already aware of the violence in the market, but the sight of Graham did little other than make the friendly Constable's business-like emotion on his face even more sullen. My interview about the first event was short, most likely because I wasnt there to watch how it started, but even the interviews of the other lieutenants and guardsmen were short as well. Recalling his change in demeanor, I found this somewhat puzzling and although I had no reason to believe the Constable's anger or frustration would be heard through the door, part of me believed this would be one of those few occasions once Graham was in a cell. Part of me feared this even more when the first ones were called in for interviews about the second event. Yet there was nothing to be heard through the closed and locked door as one person went in after another.
I didn't know what the temperature of the Constable's office would be before the second interview, but after the first guardsman came out, the young man did so with a smile across his dusty and bruised face. The man's part in the quelling of the violence before Graham's vicious sermon showed very noticably on his face yet it did not distract from the smile etched into it by his mouth. That smile seemed to somehow say it all, and as each guardsman was called before the Constable for their second interview, those men waiting outside subtly became more audible about their view of Graham's actions.
The low conversations throughout the small room full of occupied chairs turned into casual chatting, then laughing as more men came out of the Constable's office smiling about something. Me and the other officers present for the incident were silent, more focused on composure than the lower guards who began to engage enthusiastically with one another about the events as more of their friends came out. It took me a while after the whispers turned into full-on conversations to take in what was being said, but then I did, and the reaction from the other men who protected our community became intelligible. While I was still completely confused and lost in regard to what I thought of the event, the battered and bruised men of the lower guard were nearly ecstatic about it. They loved what happened in the market, they loved what happened to the waster, and their admiration for what happened only increased in volume as more men exited the Constable's office with smiles on their faces.
I began wondering anxiously what this interview with the Constable was going to entail, but I was apparently alone in this as the lieutenants beside me began to whisper and chuckle about the event themselves. Based on the smiles of everyone who left the office, I started to believe that the Constable was giving them all private celebrations about the event, but then I again remembered what the Constable's face looked like as I relayed my experience of the first riot in that first interview. There was no way the Contable who sat across from me with a face of stone cold contemplation and severity was happy about what he was having to do in the wake of such an incident. There must have been some other reason for the smiles that left that office, but I couldn't fathom that reason until it gradually began to make a little more sense with each conversation I overheard happening around me.
Looking around, everyone on the top floor waiting for their turn with the Constable was telling one another where they were in the brawl, which waster they dealt with, and how they dealt with them. I caught bits of conversation here and there, guards pointing out their friends who were with them, and some went on quoting what Graham had said as if to act out the scene again. Between the laughing and the joking and the recitations, and so much enthusiasm about the scene in the market, I began to realize that the mens' smiles after the meeting had nothing to do with the Constable or how the interview went. What they saw Graham do only an hour and a half earlier could not be swayed by anything, even if the Constable did turn into a ravenous beast when the door to the office was locked behind them.
Personally, I still did not know what to make or think of the whole thing. I couldn't quite figure out why the guardsmen and even some of my fellow lieutenants at this point were taking the whole thing the way they were. I could only think about the face of that waster, so broken and disfigured, and so incredibly terrified underneath all that blood. I thought of those screams and the sound of that man crying as the burned man held his head up and pressed a pistol to it. Even memory of the scene nearly made me shutter as I felt a cocktail of emotions from sympathy to shame to horror to admiration to worry about what was to come of the evenet.
The Lieutenant on my right was called into the office, and I heard more of what the guardsmen were saying. With a mind totally focused on the pitiful sight of that waster's horror-stricken face as the burned man lorded over him, I stood myself up, unsure of what I was going to say if anything. The loudest part of me felt like screaming;
"How can you laugh about this!? That man was a human being!"
However, as soon as I stood, and before my tongue could speak, Nathan and John had taken notice of me from their chairs across the little open room and shouted at me with faces brightened by cheer and an enthusiasm I hadn't ever seen before;
"Hey! Lieutenant Young!..." Exclaimed Nathan, holding his wrapped arm in a sling, and adding, "Where's Graham now?"
I froze, forgetting what I was going to say as the eyes of everyone in the room were upon me. Conversations between guards throughout the room were lowered to whispers as they all looked at me with their eyes open wide and beaming.
It was here that I just then realized something that alluded me while I was lost in my own thoughts. I studied each face lining the edge of that room all the way to those sitting against the railing down to the second level. There I noticed every single guard in the room sat in their place with a bright smiling face, and each one of them bore some kind of splint or bleeding wrap somewhere on their bodies or heads. Some of them were like Nathan, holding a bandage wrapped arm in a slings, some had a uniform pant leg rolled up exposing a dirty wrapping around one or both legs. Some had their shoulders wrapped with the dried blood peeking out from underneath the hasty wrapping. Some had one or both hands bound in the same tattered wrapping, while one man was shirtless with the same wrapping around the entire center of his chest. This realization made me freeze and forget what I wanted to say even more as I came to understand a bit more of the reason for those smiles on the faces of each man who left the Constable with their account of the second riot... Looking around the room and seeing all those bloody and bruised men smiling at me standing before them all, it came to me clear as day as the words I heard in waiting rang in my mind: These men wearing the same wrappings around their wounds as Graham were the image bearers of Graham. They didn't just admire what Graham did to that waster in the market, they Adored him for it.
Upon discovering this, I was still at a loss with even more to think about. Although it may have only been a few short moments since I stood, I was still trying to figure out why I stood and what I Stood for when one of the men, a young man under Lt. Camden asked from somewhere on my right;
"They tell you to put him in a cell, LT?"
I kept looking at my men, seeing John with a blood-speckled bandage around his head kept in place by his cap, and his face wearing the largest smile I'd ever seen on him. Before I could refocus and answer Nathan's question, or the guard who just spoke, another one said jovially;
"Hey Shroyer, you still got the crowbar? I'm up for busting him out! You in too, Lieutenant Young?"
Everyone laughed, and the entire room exploded with a joy unlike before. The lieutenants beside me laughed, Nathan, John, Carl, and Ramos laughed, even leaning on the shoulders of the boys in Mitchell's detachment to keep themselves upright. I stood in place as the laughter continued, and remembered the face of that waster and my prior rage at the guardsmen's attitudes just for a second. More jokes were spoken aloud about breaking Graham's cell open, and just when I was about to shout my contempt for what I kept hearing, I remembered the sound of Graham's screams as he was beaten so savagely over a pail full of water he would have given to the wasters anyway. If only they'd asked first. I heard those cries of Graham's pain as he was beaten into the ground. Those cries echoed in my mind a million times in the five seconds after the last question, and the image of all the men around me wrapped and bleeding struck me again as I finally replied;
"Let's just see what the Constable has to say first."
This caused another uproar of laughter amongst the guards and lieutenants in the room as everyone returned to their own conversations with one another. In those words I spoke, I realized I was one of them too. I didn't wear the wrappings of my men or those of Graham, but I discovered that I too had no true pity for the waster when the screams of Graham's pain echoed in my mind.
Only a moment later and before I could sit back down and resume distantly contemplating what was already done, Lieutenant Pryor exited the office with a smile on his face and a wrapping around his shoulder saying "You're up Young."
The second interview with the Constable was much longer this time. I relayed everything that happened down to the letter, what was said, what was done, who was there, and where the waster Graham spared most likely ended up. The entire time I spoke, the Constable's face remained unchanged from the one I saw in the first interview. Not angry, not sad, not concerned, not anything beyond stern contemplation. As I finished up my testimony of what happened, the Constable said;
"Hold that thought, Paul." He turned from me and adjusted something on the radio atop his desk, apparently turning the knobs to tune it as a faint static began to whir beyond the muffled laughter heard outside the office. After a moment, he lifted the receiver I hadn't seen from its place behind the bulky radio set and spoke into it;
"Did you catch that, Mr. Albright?..." I wondered if the interviews were being recorded at the mention of one of the Temple Elder's names.
Just then, the other end spoke, "Understood, thank you Mr. Hanshaw" said the static voice of Elder Albright.
"… Mr. Harlan? Bishop Mordecai?..." asked the Constable, as I wondered if all the Elders were hearing this directly. Not to mention my surprise at the mention of the Bishop himself being on the other end when he was most likely at home during this time in the late afternoon.
The two Elders and Bishop did catch all I had said, and although I didn't doubt that we were being recorded for future discussion, I didn't know that they or the Bishop themselves were listening in directly. Still, it was only the two Elders and Bishop who were hearing this, and before I could think about anything else, the Constable looked back up at me and said cooly,
"Sorry about that, go on Paul."
A brief silence ensued as I switched gears and replied simply, "No problem, Constable, I was done anyway."
At that, his eyes lingered on me a moment longer, still without any change in his expression as he looked back down at the receiver with the words, "Anything else Elders? Bishop?"
The radio stayed silent for a moment, presumably as the Elders and Bishop talked to one another on a different frequency until the Bishop himself spoke for me and the Constable;
"That should be enough for now, gentlemen, have the lieutenants stand by and dismiss the rest of the guardsmen back to their duties or to have their wounds tended to. That's all we need to hear."
The Constable dismissed me to relay the order, and I stepped out. As the guards of the detachments involved dismissed back down the stairs, me and the other three lieutenants there for the second riot stood by. The laughter and loud conversation of our men fading into the distance as our men departed back downstairs. Once our men were gone, the lieutenants turned around, and the Constable was already walking towards the stairs, making us follow with the words, "Follow me."
The Constable led us to the meeting room with the wide windows above the museum and archives building overlooking the town square across from the Temple, and there all the Elders were assembled. Some of the elderly men of the Temple were entering almost as we were, dressed in their casual attire. Upon taking our places across from the Temple leadership, the first of a series of meetings began.
I'll keep the whole thing short by saying that after the other Elders had been caught up on what happened in the market only a couple of hours earlier, an argument began.
Most of us defenders of the community were silent as the argument was for the large part amongst the Temple officials. The Elders turned to us when necessary and for clarification on certain aspects being discussed, but for the most part, the arguing was largely about whether or not Graham acted justly. It eventually turned into disputes about whether or not Graham was at fault in the first place, and the majority was glad he was sitting in the cell. After coming to this conclusion, the meeting was adjourned, and I returned home around an hour and a half after I would have normally gotten off.
At home, I caught my wife up on what kept me for so long, and the decision was made to not discuss it amongst ourselves and certainly not our children. Hearing Michelle, Hannah, and even Joe talk about the rumors they heard about the event, the wife and I dismissed them as just that, and the next morning came.
With the arrival of the next morning, I wasn't at my station in the East tower for more than an hour and a half before one of the Constable's runners stepped up to the top saying for me, John, and Carl to follow him. Again, I entered the meeting room above the archives, leaving my men with those of the other lieutenants to talk in the waiting room outside as we entered at the request of the Constable. Once again, we took our seats across from the Elders, now all dressed in their white and black robes when this second meeting commenced.
By this second meeting, all the Elders were aware of what was said in the numerous recorded interviews with the Constable, hence the request for certain lower guardsmen who waited outside. With all the Elders aware of the situation, the second meeting began with a renewed argument about whether or not the actions of Graham were justified. It was no longer the case that they were at the same conclusion. No longer were the Elders all glad for his confinement to a cell, but the majority were unchanged, leading to the men outside to come in one by one and stand before the leaders of the community to account for what was said in the interview. Although I was pretty glad Nathan wasn't asked to give his testimony, I still wasn't sure how I felt about John's.
I could have easily mistaken the testimony of John for that of Nathan who I assumed would have been overly enthusiastic and inappropriately happy about what Graham had done. After becoming a little more ashamed of John my second, I realized I didn't want to be a hypocrite, for I was still one who shared the general sentiment of the lower guard... Even if I could conceal my true feelings more professionally than John or Nathan.
The meeting went on, and a shameful theme was soon articulated after even the first guardsmen stood to give his testimony. The guard was glad about what happened, this much was well known by the Elders during this meeting, and numerous condemnations were sent towards us officers about the discipline and demeanor of our men. All the while, the Constable remained silent, twisting his mustache in contemplation and taking the lectures just like me and my fellow lieutenants of the guard. After the lower guards outside were dismissed, the men across the table still argued, but the argument turned towards how long to keep Graham confined to his cell and whether or not to exile him. The meeting was soon adjourned, and the Constable led us LTs out of the room with the quiet order to return to our stations, as his face showed visible agitation.
Later on in the day as the men and I stood atop the towers still speaking their admiration for Graham aloud, I remained silent on the matter, taking note of the strange new spirit I'd seen in them. Shortly after 2pm, the Constable arrived atop our tower, greeted the men as cheerily as he could with a mind focused on other matters, and the guards took the arrival of the Constable to display an extra vigilant watch on the market. It became clear where the attention of the guards were focused when I saw their heads all turned toward the open area where that well stood. The traffic of the day and even the charity stalls were still handing out provisions to the masses of refugees, this time with more guards standing by, and I turned to the silent Constable sitting on my chair next to the table with the radio set. Seeing his face locked in stern contemplation, I asked him plainly;
"What do you think should be done with Graham?"
There was no visible reaction on his face, or shift in his eyes, but I did catch the ears of my men prick upward out of the corner of my eye as he said in a resigned but an entirely certain way,
"The Elders like to argue, and sometimes feel more free of sin than others, but I want what they'll end up doing…"
Part of me knew what he was talking about, but I couldn't articulate it either if I was asked to do so. Then he said, "… Just wish we didn't have to go through the whole show."
I wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to, but I would later. Not long before the close of our shift, the Constable's runner called me to the meeting room again, this time without any of my men, and the third meeting began.
Although the Elders had turned away from their conclusion to exile Graham, the argument about what they heard in the interviews continued. More lectures about the attitudes of our guards were occasionally sent towards us officers sitting across from the Temple leadership. There was still plenty who condemned the actions of our men to quell the riot, as well as the actions of Graham. Strangely enough however, it was sometimes those Elders who said things like "We are not a community of Barbarians," and "Where was Grace shown in ranks of our guardsmen during the savage beating of the wasters?" were sometimes the very same ones who said, "The guards need to defend themselves," and "Graham was the victim here."
It was when I heard these statements that the words of the Constable began to make a bit more sense "Just wish we didn't have to go through the whole show." That's what this was. It was all a theological discussion. These men, our community's Elders knew the truth and probably knew what their conclusion would be probably after that first meeting. Talk of exile, talk of condemnation, and talk of what should have been done was just that: Talk. I'm not against tackling issues from many angles, but no matter the dilemma or situation like the one with Graham, the answer could all be found in the book our community reads and tells the world about. In particular, the answer could be found if one reads the parable of the prodigal son and knows what the Father did for the son in that story: The Father welcomed the son Into his home anyway.
By the end of this meeting, it came to a close and they arrived at their newest conclusion: Graham had a right to defend himself, but the degree to which he did so should be condemned, not celebrated…
That was more or less where I had landed on the whole thing after the dust had settled, even if my subconscious already did in the moments after the fight. After all the lectures, throughout that third meeting, I remembered the broken face of that wastelander, the horrible sounds of his sobbing, and the sounds Graham made when he too was broken from the beating of so many men.
I arrived at home probably an hour after I was supposed to get off, and the night with my family went much like the previous one before the next morning arrived.
A knock at the door said I was to immediately head to the meeting room after the morning muster. Once again, me, the other lieutenants involved, and the Constable sat before the Elders.
This fourth meeting was unlike the other ones. No longer did the Elders argue about whether Graham was right, no longer were us members of the guard lectured about what we failed to do to de-escalate the situation, no longer were they discussing the fate of Graham. I don't know what was said when we left, or what was talked about over the Elders' Tuesday dinner last night, instead the meeting started with a simple question.
Bishop Mordecai, who'd been largely quiet in the past three meetings while his Elders argued, started this meeting with a question directed at the Constable while his eyes were on me;
"How long until this gets out?"
There was mention of the outlaw Doyle and I brought in over two weeks back, and the discussion was locked onto the topic of who was there in the fight. How many onlookers? How many fighters? What were people saying? Etc. I was called upon, and reiterated what was said in my interview, how it seemed like the violent wastelanders started the fight by apparently trying to steal water from someone they thought was a ghoul. It was in this meeting that I revealed I hadn't heard anything else in the market. No new stories about the ex-Legate, and no new whispers about who it was that stood over the wastelander with a leveled gun and explosive words about the brutal mercy he attributed to Christ. All was silent outside, but the incident was still, from everyone I'd talked to since the event, known to all. I thought of all the caravanners and traders who come and go from our markets each day, how many travelers who saw that happen only to leave and continue their journeys that night, and the Elders must have considered this as well.
All the Elders' previous intentions to exile Graham were forgotten in an instant, and despite a few more lectures coming our way about the guard's demeanor, there was something they refused to tell us directly that made the Elders leap to the final suggestion of Elder Larsdale:
"We need to close up his house outside the walls."
The Bishop suggested that Graham be released from the cell, and have any wounds immediately tended to if they hadn't been already. The particulars of Graham's decided fate were unknown to me after the guards were dismissed, but the Constable was told to hang back, and we lieutenants were told to wait for him outside. Approximately thirty minutes passed in the waiting area by the staircase to the museum level, and us lieutenants remained largely quiet. We talked lowly to pass the time, but our minds were still on everything from the fate of Graham, to the incident that took four meetings, to which detachments we would have doing what on this coming day and that. We weren't waiting for more than 35 minutes before the Constable stepped through the double doors, dismissed the others, and caught me by the shoulder, asking;
"Do you and Daniella have groceries and room for a guest?..."
The face of the Constable was no longer sullen as it had been the past two days, now it was calm, and the faintest hint of his normal smile was on his face as mine turned to confusion by the question.
"It will only be a few days while quarters are arranged and the Elders will compensate you for the expense…"
It was decided, the incident in the market where Joshua Graham expressed his love of our Lord through a hail of bullets, was where the Elders, the Guard, and the community of New Canaan as a whole decided that we could no more attempt to simply forget about his return to our home. No more could we let him live an unknown, incognito existence just outside the community. With the options of turning him loose, or fully embrace him as one of our own within the walls, the Elders begrudgingly decided that there could be no more half-measures in regard to the nature of Joshua Graham.
The matter would stay quiet amongst the community, but little by little people would understand what was done, whether it was by word of mouth, or by seeing him walk the cobbled streets within the safety of the walls, Joshua Graham was a secret we could no longer leave outside. He was one of us, we had decided that during the night in the Temple, and it was now time to act upon the next step of what was started.
Graham's presence within the walls would remain somewhat controversial in the days, weeks, and eventual months following this decision. The Elders didn't make their decision out of love for what he did, but more out of necessity and commitment to the path they originally started down when I brought him into the Temple the night after his return to our home. Not all would like his presence as word of him outside the walls remained unspoken by guard and New Canaanite alike, but he had those who loved what he showed he stood for, and I stood uncertain at least outwardly. I still didn't like what he did to the Waster he held in his grip, but I understood it. I understood the pain he endured at the hands of those who simply wouldn't leave him be, and I knew what kind of men there were out there beyond the walls, and even those who would come to our gates despite the authority of our guardsmen. Even if I couldn't outwardly show my agreement with what he'd done, I was at least inwardly at peace about the event. Although I did not walk away from the market wearing the bandages like the men of the lower guard or those of Graham's identity, I knew the world out there was brutal, and sometimes it needed to be met with a similar brutality... However, even then, there was still a place for God's mercy.
In the meantime, I agreed to shelter Mr. Graham while the rest of the Temple's leadership figured out what his place in our community would look like and where he would live… I only wished this new arrangement didn't fall on the same day I offered to host dinner for the community and Elder's beloved career missionary, Daniel.