Rummaging around in his pocket, he produced another five-shilling coin and let the clerk see it before closing his fist around it.
The clerk looked around the small, dusty room. ‘Why don’t you come back in about an hour, sir? I’ll see what I can do.’
As he left, Knox saw that the clerk was inspecting the coin he’d left on the desk.
An hour later, the clerk was sitting at his desk, a giant ledger book open in front of him. He beamed at Knox and even stood up and shook his hand.
‘The Twenty-ninth Regiment was stationed here in the spring of 1825.’ He patted the ledger. ‘Fortunately for you, military men are assiduous record-keepers.’
‘Do you have a list of new recruits?’
The clerk smiled and patted the book again. ‘Your brother’s name?’
‘Johns.’
Carefully the clerk ran his finger down the list of names scribbled in black ink. He came to a halt about halfway down. ‘John Johns. Date of birth, March tenth 1806. Forty years old now, nearly forty-one.’
‘Is there any other information?’
The clerk looked puzzled. ‘Such as?’
‘Whether he’s still part of the regiment? Or a date of discharge, perhaps?’
‘The Twenty-ninth have long since moved on. We wouldn’t have that information here. But I do happen to recall that this particular regiment was stationed in South Wales for a while. Got themselves tangled up in some nasty business in Newport about seven or eight years ago, had to turn their rifles on civilians.’
Knox thought about the letter sent by the son to the deceased while he was in Merthyr. That was in South Wales, wasn’t it?
Frustrated, he paid the man another five shillings and retraced his steps to the town centre. There, he counted the coins left in his purse: one pound and eight shillings. The previous night’s banquet was now a distant memory but he resisted the urge to spend any more of his money on food.
It took him the rest of the day, most of it spent waiting by the side of the road, to travel to Clonoulty.
Knox knew something was wrong the moment he saw Martha. A grim-faced maid had met him at the front door and led him through the house to a room at the back.
Martha’s sleeves were rolled up, and her hair was pinned back. She didn’t hug him. Instead, she said, ‘It’s James.’ She looked pale and exhausted.
Knox felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘He started to cry just after we left you, he wouldn’t stop, and before we got here, the driver had to pull over and wait while I cleaned him up. There was shit everywhere. The night before last he was sick four times and now he’s running a fever, poor little mite, wailing and sobbing. There’s nothing I can do.’ There were tears streaming down her face.
Knox went to comfort her but she pushed him away. ‘Father Mackey’s gone to fetch a doctor.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘He’s sleeping now, first time in two days. I don’t want you to wake him.’
‘I just want to see him.’
‘Later, Michael.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I know it’s not fair of me to blame you but you weren’t here.’
‘This is my fault?’
‘It was a terrible journey. James was in a state by the time we arrived here.’
‘So what you’re saying is our son got sick because we were evicted from our home?’
‘No. Lord, I don’t know. Listen to me. I haven’t slept in two days, Michael. I blame myself. Of course I’m going to blame you as well.’
‘If I could just see him…’
Martha’s face reddened. ‘I said I didn’t want him woken. It’s taken two, three days for you to get here and all of a sudden you’re making demands.’
‘You made it quite clear I wasn’t welcome here, Martha. I wasn’t needed. That Mackey’s invitation didn’t extend to me.’
‘ I needed you, Michael, but you weren’t here. I needed you to hold me and tell me our son is going to get better.’
Knox stared at her, chastised and angry. She’d never spoken to him like this before.
‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’
Martha bit her lip and nodded, her eyes welling up. ‘When the doctor arrives, he’ll expect to be paid.’
‘I have money.’ Knox pulled out his purse and jangled the coins. He felt pathetic.
‘And when that’s all gone?’
‘Whatever it takes, Martha. I’ll walk on water, if I have to.’
That made her smile. ‘What if it’s too late? What if he’s caught something and there’s nothing we can do?’
Knox opened his arms and this time she allowed him to hug her.
Knox had always believed he was a good father, and since James had been born he’d tried never to raise his voice in his son’s presence. He remembered what it had been like to hear his parents rowing, see his father raise his fists, trying to intervene and getting his eye cut or lip split in the process. Perhaps as a result, he’d always been careful to treat his wife and son with kindness and understanding. But as he watched his son from the doorway, the boy’s tiny frame wrapped up in a blanket, Knox felt that he’d failed.
The doctor had been and gone, told them what they already knew — that James was gravely ill. He’d promised to return in the morning but hadn’t said anything about his fee.
‘I’m sorry about earlier.’ Martha squeezed Knox’s hand. ‘Some of the things I said.’
Knox touched her forehead. ‘You must be exhausted. Why don’t you try to sleep? I’ll wake you if there’s any change.’
‘I might do that.’ She smiled bravely. ‘You didn’t tell me what you’ve been doing.’
‘Another time.’
Martha nodded. Perhaps she understood why he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want another argument.
They heard a bang at the door and wondered whether the doctor had forgotten something. Then they heard voices, unfamiliar voices, and footsteps, determined ones. Mackey knocked first and then opened the door, his face pale.
‘The police want to talk to Michael.’
Knox exchanged a wordless glance with Martha.
In the hallway, Sub-inspector Hastings was flanked by two constables, Morgan and O’Hanlon. Knox hadn’t expected to see someone of Hastings’ rank. The constables averted their eyes.
‘How did you find me?’
Hastings looked at Martha. ‘Your wife was seen in the village by one of our constables and word came back to us at Cashel. A man was posted outside the house.’
Knox nodded, tight-lipped. It was a small, often oppressive world: everyone knowing everyone else’s business. But that didn’t explain why they had been looking for him; or why a man of Hastings’ rank had come all this way to see him.
The sub-inspector coughed. ‘We’d like you to accompany us back to the barracks.’
Knox wasn’t afraid, not any more. ‘My son is very ill. I’m not leaving this house.’
Hastings faltered. ‘I’m afraid I have my orders.’
Knox tried to think how his actions could have warranted such a reaction. ‘I don’t care if you’ve got orders from the Queen. I’m not leaving this house. I have to tend to my son.’
Hastings licked his lips, not sure how to proceed. Looking at the constables, he gathered his resolve. ‘My orders are to bring you to the barracks. I’m authorised to use force, if that’s what it takes.’
‘Haven’t you caused me enough agony? Didn’t you hear what I said? My son’s gravely ill.’
‘I’m sorry about your son.’ Hastings turned to O’Hanlon and Morgan. Reluctantly they stepped forward and clasped their hands around his shoulders, one on either side. Knox tried to shake them off but they wouldn’t let go. He hadn’t spoken to any of his former colleagues since being dismissed but now it was clear that he was to be treated as an enemy. Knox felt his resistance wither; he would go with them because he had no choice.
‘At least let me say goodbye to my wife and child.’
Hastings pursed his lips together and nodded. The constables let him go. Martha threw her arms around him.