Friday, October 26, 2012

Chapter VII - The Brits Return


VII
The Brits Return

After much verbal abuse and a few threats, Brigadier Ian Wendall and Lady Emily Talbot hired a horse and a cart from a smithy in Dublin. Their only other choice was to purchase two rickety bicycles. Emily’s taste in dress and footwear convinced Ian that horse and cart was the practical solution. In Dublin, motor cars were plentiful. Here and there they’d pass another horse and cart, and many individuals on bicycles. The city was noisy, crowded and sooty. Ian directed the horse, along paved streets, and eventually into the countryside. There traffic dwindled to a trickle, and eventually they picked up dirt highways and hilly, green lanes. “It is certainly pretty,” Emily commented, “But a few more trees and a few less rocks would very much be in order.”
“Trees,” Ian harrumphed. “Sore subject that. The Irish, of course, are blaming us for their lacking.”
Emily, dressed for a drive in the country, shifted in her seat, taking him in from the side, and then again turning to examine the scenery. Her eye caught on the sight of a motor car with its bonnet up. A tiny man cursed it out and waved a stick at its motor. She returned her attention to Ian. “So how much time have we lost?”
“Quite a bit actually. If we could have left Dublin yesterday, we’d have been in by last evening.”
“The Irish are an angry race, aren’t they?”
“You were warned.” He clicked his tongue and encouraged the old nag forward. This was possibly the worst piece of horse flesh he had seen in all of his years of military service, although possibly one of the most dear. The thief that finally agreed to letting it to him demanded blood. It amazed Ian they were allowed into Ireland at all, or even allowed to leave Dublin alive. And she had planned to let a motor car. 

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