Megiddo's Shadow by Arthur Slade

went to the barracks and changed into a clean uniform. I combed my hair and squinted in the mirror. I could pass for twenty, especially now that my nose was swollen. I smiled and was reminded of how much I looked like my mother and Hector. Perhaps they were watching me.
    “Lucky me,” I whispered. “I'm going to see a girl.”
    I hummed all the way to the regimental aid post. Two yeomanry troopers sat inside. Both seemed healthy. While I was breaking horses, these men trained with guns, lances, and sabers, learning to be mounted infantry.
    “Isn't that grand news about Jerusalem?” I asked. The announcement that the British army had liberated the Holy City from the Turks had been in the paper the day before.
    “It's splendid, breaker,” a trooper replied. “Maybe one of your horses is over there.”
    Was he making fun of me? I wanted to explain I was really an infantryman, but I kept my mouth shut.
    Emily strolled down the hall and said, “This way, Breaker Bathe.” I followed her to the examination room. The sash around her hips showed off her slimness, and her ankles appeared and disappeared under the skirt of her dress. She turned suddenly and I looked at the wall. “Have a seat, Mr. Bathe.” She gently unwrapped my arm and examined it, a pleasant, painful feeling. “Well, it didn't fall off!”
    “It did, but I jammed it back on.”
    She laughed. “Any sharp pains?”
    Only in my heart
, I thought, but then said, “No. I've been very careful, just like you ordered.”
    “I bet. Do you know what the most common breaker injury is?”
    “No.”
    “Bruised pride. When he gets tossed off a horse.”
    I smiled.
    “Well, your wrist isn't any worse, but be careful for the next few weeks. If you remjure it, don't wait until it's completely black to come back.” She bound my wrist again, pulling the gauze until it pinched.
    “I'm free to go?”
    “Yes,” she said, but neither of us moved. The corners of her lovely lips turned up. “I'm about to take a break. Will you join me?”
    “Yes, yes, of course.” I sounded too eager. “I've a bit of spare time.”
    She led me farther down the hall and we passed severalcots. On one lay a naked man, his back plastered by bandages. Why wasn't he covered in front of the nurses? An old urine smell reminded me of Dad's room.
    Outside, a few wicker chairs had been set in the sun. Two other nurses wearing thick sweaters chatted with the yeomanry troopers.
    Emily seemed to have pulled a cigarette out of thin air. In one movement she struck a match with her long thumbnail and lit the cigarette.
    “Gasper?” She held the packet out to me. It had the card of a Victoria Cross hero inside. I wanted to see who the hero was. I shook my head and she slid the cigarettes into her cardigan pocket.
    “Well, Edward, where'd you get that accent?”
    “Canada. The prairies.”
    “A farm boy? I could've guessed.”
    “What's that supposed to mean?”
    She let out a ring of smoke. “You've got the
eau de farm
about you.” She giggled, though I didn't see what was so funny. “Tell me about your prairies.”
    “Well, there used to be buffalo everywhere, but most of them are dead now.” Why'd I pick that to talk about?
    “Buffalo? Red Indians, too?”
    “Some, but I was born here in England at Aylesby My father had a farm.”
    “Aylesby? It's a cozy place. Have you gone to see your old home?”
    “I only just arrived.”
    “It's a short jaunt. I wouldn't mind visiting the village again.”
    Then why don't we go together?
I wanted to say.
    Emily stared as if trying to memorize my face.
    “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “You're seventeen, aren't you. Maybe younger.”
    “No.” I coughed. “I'm of age. I'm eighteen.”
    She laughed. “No, you aren't. They used to make the young ones the bugle boys, but the ranks have to be filled. The recruiters see someone old enough to hold a gun, but I see … I don't know … such innocence.”
    “I'm not