Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [44]
The fact that justice was impartial was one absolute in a world descending into chaos. Truth was one certainty worth pursuing, finding, and clinging on to. Whatever the work or the pain involved, he had a purpose.
He did not speak to Colonel Fyfe. When he knew the cause and could prove it, that would be the time to act.
There were many things he needed to know. The very first was the one he dreaded most, and perhaps in his heart was the reason he had to find the truth. He could not forget Sam’s rage at the court-martial of Corliss. The whole thing had been merciless, and it would never have happened had Prentice not pushed the issue. Perhaps Corliss had lost his nerve. He would not be the first man to have been pushed beyond his limit, and for an instant cracked. Men covered for each other. The moment of terror was kept secret. There were few men who did not understand.
Corliss was Sam’s man, his to punish or to protect. That was what loyalty was about, and Corliss had trusted him, as his other men did.
How could he ask Sam? How could he now protect him? Only by proving that he could not be involved, before he began any inquiry.
Sam looked up from cleaning his rifle. “Was he?” he said without emotion.
“Yes.” Joseph sat down beside him, ignoring the mud. “I have to find out who did it.”
“Why?” Sam lit a cigarette.
“You can’t go around murdering people, just because you think they deserve it,” Joseph replied.
Sam smiled, his black eyes bright. “Better reason than because they’re German.”
Joseph did not smile back.
Sam’s face darkened. “Leave it alone, Joe,” he said quietly. “Lots of people had pretty good reasons for hating Prentice. This isn’t peacetime England. Better men than Prentice are being killed every day. We have to learn to live with it, and face the fact that tomorrow it could be our turn, or that of someone we love, someone we’d give our own lives to protect. Have you seen Barshey Gee lately? He knows what happened to Charlie. He’s his brother, for God’s sake!”
“Are you saying Barshey Gee killed Prentice?” Joseph’s mouth was dry.
“No, I’m not!” Sam snapped. “I’m saying he’ll be suspected. So will Wil Sloan, or any of my men. Or me!” He stared at Joseph unblinkingly. “I’d see him in hell, with pleasure.”
“I know.” Joseph’s voice was little more than a whisper. “That’s why I’m here. I want to prove you couldn’t have, before I begin. Where were you when Prentice went over the top?”
“Down a tunnel under the German lines,” Sam replied. “But I can’t prove it. Huddleston saw me go down, but he didn’t come with me.”
Relief washed over Joseph like a blast of warmth. He even found himself smiling. “I had to ask,” he said aloud.
“Leave it alone, Joe,” Sam repeated. “You don’t want to know!”
Joseph stood up. “Maybe I don’t want to, but I have to. It’s my job. It’s about the only certain thing I can do.”
Sam’s face was puckered.
“Hannah sent me some Dundee cake,” Joseph offered. “Come and have some after stand-to.”
Sam raised his hand in half salute, and acceptance, then went back to cleaning his rifle.
Joseph knew it would not be easy. No one else wished to know what had happened to Prentice. He had been either tolerated or positively disliked by all the men. They answered Joseph’s questions out of deference to him, but unwillingly.
“Dunno, Captain,” Tucky Nunn said bluntly. “Don’t see much out there, ’ceptin’ what Oi’m doing meself.”
“Sorry, Chaplain,” Tiddly Wop Andrews said bashfully, pushing his hair back, as if it were still long enough to get into his eyes. “Nobody loiked ’im. After what ’e done to that sapper, nobody gave ’im the toime o’ day. Couldn’t say where ’e went.”
“Oi saw ’im earlier on,” Bert Dazely said, shaking his head. They were standing with their backs to the trench wall.