‘What do you mean you didn’t know who I was?’ The sergeant shuffled his feet. ‘Are you not related to Major-General Lucan, sir?’ Jamie thought fast. He remembered something from his childhood: his father discussing the possibility of an army career with Felix, and telling him that his name would help him up the military ladder, that somewhere in their background were important men, a lord and regimental commander no less; but Felix hadn’t wanted to be a soldier and Jamie was never asked, so nothing else was said, the family estate being more important than clinging to a tenuous link of relationship to a man who, it was rumoured, had been responsible for many deaths during the Irish potato famine. ‘Ah! Cavalry!’ Jamie said. ‘That’s not why I’m here, sergeant. I came at the request of a friend, not the commander.’ He hadn’t actually denied the connection; neither had he confirmed it and he saw the uncertainty in the sergeant’s eyes. ‘What was it you wanted me to do?’ ‘Well, sir, you might not want to do it, but we’d be very grateful if you’d come and take a look.’ He led him into the building, which had been made into a makeshift hospital.
