The Last Lady from Hell Read Online Free Page B

hand or a mason. His jet black hair was short, in a crew-cut style, and his eyebrows were so dark, they almost looked penciled in. A five o’clock shadow graced his square jaw. I was thankful for the guidance from this obvious senior piper. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I had been taken under the wing of one of the finest pipers in Ontario, and without question, the second best piper at Queens University next to Terry Manning.
    The other pipers stood at the ready, heads up, backs straight. Their heels were together, but their toes were spread apart at a forty-five degree angle. Again, I followed their lead, and stood with my pipes up on my shoulder, blow pipe in my mouth and my chanter held in front of me.
    Pipe Major stood silent and motionless in the center of the circle, his eyes fixed straight ahead. We waited for a command but none came.
    Then, suddenly coming to life, Manning barked out his orders.
    “Band ready, pipes up! From an E. “Going Home!”
    Everyone blew up their pipes and played an E. Manning pumped his foot up and down three times and we began to play the tune. Manning made his way around the circle, listening to each chanter and adjusting the reed of those that weren’t perfectly in tune.
    Satisfied with what he heard, he had the band stop playing and called in big Dan McKee and the drummers to join the circle. He told McKee that he wanted the band to play “Scotland the Brave” twice, starting with a three pace roll. Dan acknowledged the request with a nod.

    In a concert or in practice, the pipe major usually calls cadence, but there are those occasions when the pipe major requests the drum major to call the tune.
    On the street, the drum major calls cadence: “By the right! Quick march!” This command tells the marching band members that they should “dress right,” or keep their line straight, formed on the member farthest to their right.
    “Quick march” tells the band what type of march to expect, and the speed at which the cadence is called sets the tempo for the drum section which, in turn, sets the tempo for the tune and the speed of the march.
    McKee stiffened. “Band ready!” he yelled. “By the right...quick march!” The bass drum pounded out its beat and the snares growled out their three-pace rolls. The pipers blew up, first striking in the drones then following with a short E before playing “Scotland the Brave.”
    I quickly noticed that Sean and all the veteran pipers were watching Terry Manning. Not the man himself, but his fingers. As his fingers moved, so did theirs.
    Those in the circle who weren’t focused on Terry’s fingers were, like me, “new meat” and tried desperately not to look lost.
    I noticed one fellow in particular. Lean, blonde, and well dressed, he was obviously well off. But most striking to me were his pipes. They were a piece of artwork with sterling silver engraved furls and tuning pins, even the chanter had a silver base. They must have weighed a ton, but to me they were the most ornate and handsome pipes I had ever seen.

    My thoughts were broken by a deep booming voice coming from behind an opening door. Into the room burst an imposing figure waving his arms and yelling.
    “Stop! Stop! Stop!” he shouted over the deafening sound of twenty pipes and drums. The pipes groaned and whined to a stop and the drums tapered off.
    “If you don’t want to play together,” the man said, “then leave and play solo on some street corner for two bits! Now, let’s try it again, but this time together!”
    Without hesitation, Terry snapped to attention.
    “Gentlemen,” he called out, “‘Scotland the Brave.’ By the right... quick march!”
    The drums rolled and the pipes struck in and we started the tune again. I thought we sounded quite good. But halfway through the tune, the visitor apparently thought otherwise.
    “Enough!” he wailed. The band stopped disjointedly.
    “I expect better from you, Terence,” he reprimanded. The