They resumed their trek down the hallway, their heels clicking in time, then not.
“What of your trip, Lucy?”
“What of it, sir?”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid. I met a pair of villagers on the train.”
“Oh? And what did you make of them?”
“I found them somewhat strange, sir. I believe one of them stole my pipe.”
“You’ve met Memel, it sounds like.” There was an amusement in Mr. Olderglough’s tone, but also something like derision. Lucy asked,
“Don’t you approve of him?”
“My approval or disapproval is irrelevant. The villagers are like children, and children can be dangerous entities in that they have no God. Do you understand what I mean when I say this?”
“Not quite, sir.”
“If there are no consequences for a person’s actions, what might his motivation be to do right by his fellow man?”
Lucy wasn’t sure if he was expected to answer the question or not. At any rate, he didn’t know what the answer might be, and Mr. Olderglough didn’t press for a response. A quiet moment passed, much in the way a cloud passes, and Lucy found himself wanting to defend Memel, which was odd, considering he didn’t know the man, and that he had been victimized by him. Pondering this curiosity, he pushed on after Mr. Olderglough, the pair of them descending a flight of stairs, and then another, where the air became thicker, almost swampy. It was scarcely credible to Lucy that this gloomy locale was now his home; presently he fell to wondering what his time would be like there, and so he inquired after his duties.
“Easier asked than answered,” said Mr. Olderglough. “For our days here are varied, and so our needs are also varied. On the whole, I think you’ll find the workload to be light in that you will surely have ample free time. But then there comes the question of what one does with his free time. I have occasionally felt that this was the most difficult part of the job; indeed, the most difficult part of being alive, wouldn’t you say, boy?”
“Perhaps you’re right, sir.”
“Surely I am. Oftentimes I’m confronted with an afternoon or evening off, with not a stitch of work to do, and do you know, I meet this fact with something akin to panic.” Mr. Olderglough sighed. “At any event: in the simplest terms, your foremost function is to anticipate my needs and see to them. Your predecessor was most gifted in this.”
“Mr. Broom?”
A cold look crept across Mr. Olderglough’s face. “How did you know his name?”
“Memel told me.”
“And what else did he tell you, I’d like to know?”
“Nothing else.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Not so very much. Will you tell me what happened with Mr. Broom, sir?”
“Later, perhaps.”
“May I ask where he is now?”
“Later, boy.”
Lucy heard another volley of rifle fire occurring up the mountain. As casually as he might, he asked, “And who are these men with bayonets, sir?”
Mr. Olderglough peered curiously toward the ceiling, as though clarification would meet him there. “Men with bayonets,” he said.
“They ran into the forest? To shoot at or be shot at by a second party?”
“Oh, them.” Mr. Olderglough flapped his wounded wing dismissively. “Harmless. Nothing but a lot of noise. Ignore them, that’s what I do.”
Lucy found this unsatisfactory, naturally. “May I ask who it is they’re fighting?”
“Other men.” Mr. Olderglough shrugged. “Men, like them.”
“And what are they fighting about, do you know?”
“Well, now, what does anyone fight about, boy?”
Lucy was baffled. And while he sensed his questions and comments were annoying Mr. Olderglough, he couldn’t help but add, “I do wish I’d known about this beforehand.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Sir, there is a war taking place outside the castle.”
Mr. Olderglough rolled his eyes. “It’s not a war,” he said.
“Bullets are flying through the air.”
“That doesn’t make it a war. A war is a much bigger production. This is a trifle by comparison.” He thought awhile. “I hope you don’t think anyone will shoot at you.”
“I pray they don’t.”
“Of course they won’t. Why would they? A nice young fellow such as yourself.” Mr. Olderglough reached over and pinched Lucy’s cheek, hard. The man’s fingers felt as though they were made of wood. What a long hallway this is, Lucy thought.