Todd sat in a bay window with a view of the northwest Shambles and Alcatraz. He glared at the softly-befogged rock isles of the Bay as they became visible in the pink-streaked sunrise. Although the dawn did not salve his battered feelings or his self-esteem, silence allowed him to hear his own thoughts, such as they were. He did not dissect his emotions: The pain was neither subtle nor obscure. A course of action seemed more attractive than one of contemplation. He would hunt the Shambles until he found Isoka; then he would kill the ambassador. He would do it quickly, without taunts or debate. He would not call it vengeance, but Todd wanted Isoka to live no more.
He had slept only two hours but felt no fatigue. For about an hour, he sat alone, unblinking and still as a rock. The pink faded from the sky and the new day took hold. Soon, the family members, one by one, began filling the room. So it happened each morning. The Wentworths breakfasted together (eggs, hard-bread and tea); then the three brothers would leave for the day’s sluggish battle. Breakfast was a quiet time, held lest any given day be the last for one or more members of the wartime family. Each new arrival greeted Todd. The sad man grunted back. His gloom surprised no one, for the whole family knew the lad was smarting from lost love. While the clan assembled around the conference table, a particularly unattractive young woman served breakfast. Little was said; a few words passed in hushed tones. Thaddeus shifted in his chair uncomfortably, for Todd’s ire was of his making, and it humiliated the chancellor to be unable to look out for his brother’s interests.
Seeing that the others were walking on eggshells, Todd grew determined to hold up his end, to nourish the clan’s much-needed bravado. To the surprise of everyone, Todd took the floor and laid out his plan for a night attack on the southeast. He spoke in detail and maintained a hearty tone. Thaddeus watched gratefully as his young brother did what was necessary to stabilize the moment--which, as the injured party, only Todd could do. Thurston listened closely to the outline of the gambit, nodding approvingly at Todd’s tight and daring plan of attack.
Thurston delighted in the plotting of tactics, and he welcomed Todd’s clever mind as a co-designer. He was surprised that Todd had studied the lay of that obscure part of the Shambles. Helen patted her husband’s hand, letting him know that she, too, saw the excellence of his brother’s spirit. Briefly, she allowed herself to empathize with her in-law’s agony, but she quickly pulled back from the weakening sympathy. Instead, she contemplated how much she admired the Wentworths, and how honored she was to carry that name.
But while all thoughts were on Todd and the day ahead, Cordilia began humming dully. After a few moments, she slouched away from the table. This was unusual because her dementia was such that she rarely moved unless encouraged by others. The troubled girl almost danced as she stumbled away from her brother’s table. She plopped down on the couch and began mumbling.
May Wentworth, Cordilia’s de facto guardian, watched with mouth agape. She went to the couch and sat next to the weak-minded one and listened with alarm to her dark chatter. She tried to stop the unfortunate girl’s prattle by stroking Cordilia’s matted hair and grayish cheek. Seeing May so disquieted, Helen craned her neck and tried to make out the gist of Cordilia’s breathless little utterances. She frowned at what she heard.
May blurted, “Cordilia, don’t say those things! Not ever! You’ll bring bad luck down on all of us!” Ill-suited to the brutal world ushered in by the long siege, May was quick to tears.
Thaddeus scowled. “Cordilia?”
Thurston, his mouth full of bread, said, “Don’t listen to Cordilia; you’ll end up as crazy as she is.”
Thaddeus frowned at his brash brother. To Thaddeus, Cordilia’s mental disease was just a part of his sister’s makeup, not a deficiency. Like his father before him, the chancellor was congenitally incapable of putting any but the best light on a Wentworth’s shortcomings. He turned to his wife and sister. Smiling and assuming a childish air, he asked, “What’s wrong with little Cordilia?”
Cordilia stood, pointed to Thaddeus. “I had a bad dream about you!”
“Well, you can’t worry about that,” Thaddeus said gently. “We all have frightening dreams. But they’re just dreams, so we can change them. Just tell yourself you are dreaming--in your dream, I mean. You can pull yourself out of the dream, or, even better--”
“You were covered with blood and gulls plucked your eyes.”
Thurston cried, “For Christ’s sake, Cordilia.”
Cordilia said, “If you fight today, you’ll die.”
Thurston jumped up from the table and went over to the couch. Arms akimbo, he hovered above his sister. “Shut up, Cordilia! Jesus, no wonder May is scared. Now stop that gibberish.”
Cordilia looked up at her brother. She shook her head. She said, “I know it’s true, Thaddeus. You will die. I don’t want you to, but what does that matter?”
May muttered, “There’s something more than weird about this.” She stood up and went to Thaddeus. She whispered, “Sometimes the insane are clairvoyants.”
Thaddeus held May by the arms and looked into her befogged and frightened eyes. “Don’t listen to her. Sometimes she spooks me, too. She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just repeating a bad dream. Haven’t you dreamed worse? I have.”
But May cried, “Her conviction makes my skin crawl. Why would she say such a thing?”
Todd said, “May, you have to remember--”
Cordilia said sadly, “Fight today, and cowards will kill you!”
Thurston sneered, “That could be anybody.”
Thurston and Thaddeus laughed. Thaddeus wanted the situation to be over. He patted May on the arm and stood to leave the room. Thurston and Todd rose, too. Helen went to May and embraced her, but the frightened matron would not be consoled. She whimpered, “When I listen to her . . . I feel something is terribly wrong.”
Thurston said, “Thaddeus can’t refuse to fight because our loony sister has a bad dream. If word gets out that Thaddeus is afraid to fight, the militia will lose heart. Where would we be then?”
Thaddeus said, “Only the unlucky and unready get killed in these battles.”
“Not today,” Todd growled. “It’ll be unlucky to be a Yahoo. I’m going to kill everyone I can get my hands on.”
Thaddeus looked at Todd with shock. “What is wrong with everybody today?”
Distracted, Todd said, “Wrong because I plan to kill our enemies?”
Thurston punched Thaddeus’s shoulder and said, “Unlike you, who never kills a one?”
Thaddeus patted his machete. “I put them out of the war. That is all that needs to be done. We are defending our home and civilized principles. There is no need to kill a man if you take his hand and know he will never fight again.”
Todd was ready to fight. He waved in frustration and walked away from the conversation.
May grabbed Thaddeus and pleaded, “Don’t go, please don’t.”
“Please, May!” said Thaddeus with embarrassment. He pulled her hands away from his chest.
“Let’s get out of here before we catch it,” Thurston said.
“I think so,” said Thaddeus. He was troubled by such talk at breakfast. Hearing his war-hating youngest brother so eager to fight was as disconcerting as his wife’s fear or his sister’s dark dream.