Mayo where the French invaders and the Irish rebels had triumphed so briefly during the recent troubles of 1798. These days, ever since the Act of Union had come into law, the countryside was quiet enough. All that was troubling the young captain, as he rode over the narrow bridge to Ardnaree, was a nasty sore.
"Its on my, ah, manhood," he muttered to the apothecary, whose name was Knox. "My
membrum virile,
don't you know."
"We call a prick a prick in this country, sir," said Knox pleasantly. "A rash too, all over? Yes, yes, I've seen this many a time before. And what part of England did you say you hail from?"
The captain hadn't said; but he did now. It was hard to refuse information to a man who was holding one's penis between finger and thumb, and peering at it through greasy spectacles. The captain told the whole short story of his career to date, and when he had finished the apothecary gave him an old claret bottle full of black liquid, stoppered with a rag. "Nothing to worry about," said Knox. "Three swigs of that every morning, and wash yourself in the same stuff at night."
The bill, scribbled on the back of an old militia notice, staggered the young captain.
"Why, but I'm not charging you a farthing for my own humble services; it's the medicine that costs, my boy," Knox told him. "I admit it, you'd be cheaper dipping your wick in frankincense and myrrh! Though I venture to predict they wouldn't do the trick in the case of this little problem like my patent mercurial tincture will. Good air, regular sleep and evacuations, and riding too," he added. "You'll be your own man again by the time you get back to your good lady in England."
The captain was not married.
"Is that so?" asked Knox, and invited him to stay for dinner and try a fine pink salmon caught in the Moy, "off the very bridge you crossed this morning. Famous for its fish, our river, if I say it as shouldn't."
They ate in a parlour of such smoky darkness that the captain could barely distinguish his plate. With the soup ladle, Knox proudly pointed out a framed license from the Worshipful Company of Apothecaries up in Dublin, but the captain could hardly make out a word of the spidery print. "I'm no mere druggist, you understand, sir," Knox assured him. "My profession is a genteel one, no matter what some high-and-mighty physician might tell you. I'm the best you'll find in this part of Mayo for bleedings, purgings, plasters, or any other cure. Yet some of my ignorant countrymen take their ails to the farrier instead, can you credit it?"
The visitor laughed politely, and tried not to scratch his rash.
The other guests were a skinny little parson and an attorney from Ballina. They talked politics from the start—meaning to impress him, he could tell.
"Oh, we suffered in Mayo during the late troubles, let me tell you, Captain," sighed Knox through his soup.
The attorney was nodding along. "Those craven Wexfordmen, they hadn't half as much to bear. The rebels stole a flitch of bacon from my own kitchen!"
"And then the crown soldiers confiscated my whole stock of bandages and fill my French brandy besides," complained Knox.
"There was a rumour going round, at the time," said the parson in a thrilling voice, "that every man, woman, and child of us would be gutted with a pike if we didn't convert to Rome."
"Aye, we were in fear of our lives, all through the fighting. Blood flowed down the streets of Ballina," said the attorney.
"And Ardnaree," murmured Knox.
"It did not," said the attorney, helping himself to more port.
"It did so."
"The battle took place in Ballina," raged the attorney. "Isn't that right, Reverend? Wasn't it through the streets of Ballina that the Frog soldiers and their papist traitor underlings pursued us with pistol and sword?"
The parson nodded, speechless as he gnawed on a rabbit bone he had found in his soup.
"Nobody pursued you anywhere, sir," said Knox; "you were locked up safe in your parlour."
The attorney ignored
"Its on my, ah, manhood," he muttered to the apothecary, whose name was Knox. "My
membrum virile,
don't you know."
"We call a prick a prick in this country, sir," said Knox pleasantly. "A rash too, all over? Yes, yes, I've seen this many a time before. And what part of England did you say you hail from?"
The captain hadn't said; but he did now. It was hard to refuse information to a man who was holding one's penis between finger and thumb, and peering at it through greasy spectacles. The captain told the whole short story of his career to date, and when he had finished the apothecary gave him an old claret bottle full of black liquid, stoppered with a rag. "Nothing to worry about," said Knox. "Three swigs of that every morning, and wash yourself in the same stuff at night."
The bill, scribbled on the back of an old militia notice, staggered the young captain.
"Why, but I'm not charging you a farthing for my own humble services; it's the medicine that costs, my boy," Knox told him. "I admit it, you'd be cheaper dipping your wick in frankincense and myrrh! Though I venture to predict they wouldn't do the trick in the case of this little problem like my patent mercurial tincture will. Good air, regular sleep and evacuations, and riding too," he added. "You'll be your own man again by the time you get back to your good lady in England."
The captain was not married.
"Is that so?" asked Knox, and invited him to stay for dinner and try a fine pink salmon caught in the Moy, "off the very bridge you crossed this morning. Famous for its fish, our river, if I say it as shouldn't."
They ate in a parlour of such smoky darkness that the captain could barely distinguish his plate. With the soup ladle, Knox proudly pointed out a framed license from the Worshipful Company of Apothecaries up in Dublin, but the captain could hardly make out a word of the spidery print. "I'm no mere druggist, you understand, sir," Knox assured him. "My profession is a genteel one, no matter what some high-and-mighty physician might tell you. I'm the best you'll find in this part of Mayo for bleedings, purgings, plasters, or any other cure. Yet some of my ignorant countrymen take their ails to the farrier instead, can you credit it?"
The visitor laughed politely, and tried not to scratch his rash.
The other guests were a skinny little parson and an attorney from Ballina. They talked politics from the start—meaning to impress him, he could tell.
"Oh, we suffered in Mayo during the late troubles, let me tell you, Captain," sighed Knox through his soup.
The attorney was nodding along. "Those craven Wexfordmen, they hadn't half as much to bear. The rebels stole a flitch of bacon from my own kitchen!"
"And then the crown soldiers confiscated my whole stock of bandages and fill my French brandy besides," complained Knox.
"There was a rumour going round, at the time," said the parson in a thrilling voice, "that every man, woman, and child of us would be gutted with a pike if we didn't convert to Rome."
"Aye, we were in fear of our lives, all through the fighting. Blood flowed down the streets of Ballina," said the attorney.
"And Ardnaree," murmured Knox.
"It did not," said the attorney, helping himself to more port.
"It did so."
"The battle took place in Ballina," raged the attorney. "Isn't that right, Reverend? Wasn't it through the streets of Ballina that the Frog soldiers and their papist traitor underlings pursued us with pistol and sword?"
The parson nodded, speechless as he gnawed on a rabbit bone he had found in his soup.
"Nobody pursued you anywhere, sir," said Knox; "you were locked up safe in your parlour."
The attorney ignored
Similar Books
Echoes of Tomorrow
Jenny Lykins
The Death of Rex Nhongo
C.B. George
The Butcher of Smithfield
Susanna Gregory
T.J. and the Cup Run
Theo Walcott
The Ivory Road: A Walk in the Sand
Siobhan Muir
Murder in the Dorm
C.G. Prado
Looking for Alibrandi
Melina Marchetta
Rescue Nights
Nina Hamilton
