Night Watch

Moss had grown over the wooden markers of the other six, but it had been scraped off the central one, revealing the name:

John Keel

And carved underneath, by someone who had taken some pains, was:

How Do They Rise Up

A huge wreath of lilac flowers, bound with purple ribbon, had been placed on the grave. On top of it, tied round with another piece of purple ribbon, was an egg.

“Mrs Palm and Mrs Battye and some of the girls were up here earlier,” said Dibbler. “And of course Madam always makes sure there's the egg.”

“It's nice, the way they always remember,” said Sergeant Colon.

The three stood in silence. They were not, on the whole, men with a vocabulary designed for times like this. After a while, though, Nobby felt moved to speak.

“He gave me a spoon once,” he said, to the air in general.

“Yeah, I know,” said Colon.

“My dad pinched it off me when he come out of prison, but it was my spoon,” said Nobby persistently. “That means a lot to a kid, your own spoon.”

“Come to that, he was the first person to make me a sergeant,” said Colon. “Got busted again, of course, but I knew I could do it again then. He was a good copper.”

“He bought a pie off me, first week I was starting out,” said Dibbler. “Ate it all. Didn't spit out anything.”

There was more silence.

After a while Sergeant Colon cleared his throat, a general signal to indicate that some sort of appropriate moment was now over. There was a general relaxation of muscles.

“Y'know, we ought to come up here one day with a billhook and clear this lot up a bit,” said the sergeant.

“You always say that, sarge, every year,” said Nobby as they walked away. “And we never do.”

“If I had a dollar for every copper's funeral I've attended up here,” said Colon, “I'd have…nineteen dollars and fifty pence.”

“Fifty pence?” said Nobby.

“That was when Corporal Hildebiddle woke up just in time and banged on the lid,” said Colon. “Before your time, o'course. Everyone said it was an amazin' recovery.”

“Mr Sergeant?”

The three men turned. Coming towards them in a high-speed sidle was the black-clad, skinny figure of Legitimate First, the cemetery's resident gravedigger.

Colon sighed. “Yes, Leggie?” he said.

“Good morrow, sweet—” the gravedigger began, but Sergeant Colon waved a finger at him.

“Stop that right now,” he said. “You know you've been warned before. None of that ‘comic gravedigger’ stuff. It's not funny and it's not clever. Just say what you've got to say. No silly bits.”

Leggie looked crestfallen. “Well, good sirs—”

“Leggie, I've known you for years,” said Colon wearily. “Just try, will you?”

“The deacon wants them graves dug up, Fred,” said Leggie in a sulky voice. “It's been more'n thirty years. Long past time they was in the crypts—”

“No,” said Fred Colon.

“But I've got a nice shelf for 'em down there, Fred,” Leggie pleaded. “Right up near the front. We need the space, Fred! It's standing room only in here, and that's the truth! Even the worms have to go in single file! Right up near the front, Fred, where I can chat to 'em when I'm having my tea. How about that?”

The watchmen and Dibbler shared a glance. Most people in the city had been into Leggie's crypts, if only for a dare. And it had come as a shock to most of them to realize that solemn burial was not for eternity but only for a handful of years so that, in Leggie's words, “my little wriggly helpers” could do their work. After that, the last last resting place was the crypts, and an entry in the huge ledgers.

Leggie lived down there in the crypts. As he said, he was the only one who did, and he liked the company.

Leggie was generally considered weird, but conscientiously so.

“This isn't your idea, right?” said Fred Colon.

Leggie looked down at his feet.

“The new deacon's a bit, well, new,” he said. “You know…keen. Making changes.”

“You told him why they're not being dug up?” said Nobby.

“He said that's just ancient history,” said Leggie. “He says we all have to put the past behind us.”

“An' did you tell him he should take it up with Vetinari?” said Nobby.

“Yes, and he said he was sure his lordship was a forward-thinking man who wouldn't cling to relics of the past,” said Leggie.

“Sounds like he is new,” said Dibbler.

“Yeah,” said Nobby. “An' not likely to get old. It's okay, Leggie, you can say you've asked us.”

The gravedigger looked relieved. “Thanks, Nobby,” he said. “And I'd just like to say that when your time comes, gents, you'll be on a good shelf with a view. I've put your names down in my ledger for them as comes after me.”

“Well, that's, er, very kind of you, Leggie,” said Colon, wondering if it was. Because of pressure of space, bones in the crypt were stored by size, not by owner. There were rooms of ribs. There were avenues of femurs. And shelf after shelf of skulls up near the entrance, of course, because a crypt without a lot of skulls wasn't a proper crypt at all. If some of the religions were right and there really was bodily resurrection one day, Fred mused, there was going to be an awful lot of confusion and general milling about.

“I've got just the spot—” Leggie began, and then stopped. He pointed angrily towards the entrance. “You know what I said about him coming up here!”

They turned. Corporal Reg Shoe, a whole bouquet of lilac tied to his helmet, was walking solemnly up the gravel path. He had a long-handled shovel over his shoulder.

“It's only Reg,” said Fred. “He's got a right to be here, Leggie. You know that.”

“He's a dead man! I'm not havin' a dead man in my cemetery!”

“It's full of 'em, Leggie,” said Dibbler, trying to calm the man down.

“Yeah, but the rest of 'em don't walk in and out!”

“Come on, Leggie, you act like this every year,” said Fred Colon. “He can't help the way he was killed. Just because you're a zombie doesn't mean you're a bad person. He's a useful lad, Reg. Plus it'd be a lot neater up here if everyone looked after their plots like he does, 'morning, Reg.”

Reg Shoe, grey-faced but smiling, nodded at the four of them and strolled on.

“And bringing his own shovel, too,” muttered Leggie. “It's disgusting!”

“I've always thought it was rather, you know, nice of him to do what he does,” said Fred. “You let him alone, Leggie. If you start throwing stones at him like you did the year before last Commander Vimes'll get to hear about it and there'll be trouble. Be told. You're a good man with a, a—”

“—cadaver,” said Nobby.

“—but…well, Leggie, you weren't there,” said Colon. “That's the start and finish of it. Reg was. That's all there is to it, Leggie. If you weren't there, you don't understand. Now you just run along and count the skulls again,