Lore

* *

Help!

I'm here! I'm here!

Digging!

Help! Someone's buried alive!

Over here!

Help! Help!

What?

* *

* *

Whiskey!

The one damned thing this country does right.

'Cause treating us Irish folk is definitely not on the list.

I'll drink to that.

From one second-class immigrant to another.

I love ya.

Donald, you want to join?

Donald!

Lookie here, he's had a head start.

We'll be back, Donny boy. But for now?

Ah, whiskey.

Come on.

Hey! Must be Padraig's Day.

It's November!

I know. My point is there must be a reason for the party.

There's no reason to need a reason.

Aye, well said.

Jamie!

The little fella sure can move his... his foot.

Whittles at a pub again?

I imagine the ladies love you for your big knife.

A cheer for the wee lad, Jamie!

Yeah!

A cheer for all!

Enjoy this round, people, courtesy of yours truly!

Sholto! Sholto! Sholto!

There's that Sholto. He's up there buying the house drinks.

Hey, bless him.

Hey, it's a bit of a slap in the face, isn't it?

He owes me 11 shillings.

They're free. All that matters is...

- 11 shillings. - For what?

He's not very good at cards.

Well, he's right there, isn't he?

Now 11 shillings, you great cow.

- Oh, was it that much? - 11.

- Or one. - One what?

Yeah, one cut, right through your eye, boy.

All right, all right.

Easy.

Plus interest, for my friend's suffering.

Or maybe he'll slice you up anyway.

No, no, no, no, please.

If you'll indulge me, gentlemen, I have a business proposition

that will make that look a pittance.

But, um, in private, please.

- And all in the name of science. - Until you get caught.

A corpse technically isn't property,

so we're not stealing.

- Uh, legally speaking, it's just... - Trespassing.

Which is why we get creative.

They set up a watchtower, we go under.

- Tunnels. - Exactly.

The doctors in Surgeon's Square, they pay for every body,

no matter the condition.

You see, they're in a-a race to cure the diseases,

and they need bodies to study.

Now, Robert Knox, he's my doc on the inside.

And you're cutting us in because...?

- Well, start with the knife. - Good point.

And?

My crew are not exactly responsible types.

Look, they don't always show up. I-I need two I can count on.

Right?

When and where?

Two hours. Charity Workhouse.

- Whorehouse? - Oh, that's the charity.

I'm going there now.

That's for the debt and the drinks.

Grave robbing.

Is that what it's come to, is it?

Digging dead bodies out of the ground.

They're dead, Billy. They have no opinion.

Listen, we can make more working one night in the ground

than six months on the docks,

and you're afraid of what? Of what?

- The magistrate? - Yeah, the magistrate.

- And the Good Lord. - The Good Lord.

"The Good Lord," he says. Hmm.

Let God have his go in Heaven.

Let me handle things here, in the actual Earth, all right?

We can't just go steal dead bodies out...

Yeah...

Bodies, theoretically.

Donald?

Donald, is you all right there, mate?

Shit. Poor chap.

How long has he been dead?

Long enough, I suppose.

With no family to speak of.

Better get him to a hospital.

Aye. Hospital.

Or... to a surgeon?

For a small fee, of course.

In the name of science.

* *

Is this the right one?

Can't be knocking on wrong doors all morning.

Hey, Billy, relax. It says "Knox" right there.

Knocking for Knox. Hey, all right.

Uh, Sholto Macdonald sent us.

Up!

Hmm.

Not a speck of dirt.

No rot...

beyond the alcohol,

which I'm sure all of you have taken.

The world in Scotland may be very different

from what you're used to in Dublin, lads.

Uh, sorry, sir.

I'm from Urney.

Well, Dublin, Urney, Cork.

You're all the same over there, aren't you?

Scotland's place in the world depends

on the advances we make for our humble audiences

right here in this operating theatre.

Oh.

- Whoa. - Dropsy.

Ah, ha.

Delicious.

You see, you may not have medicine in, uh, Dublin,

which is why you all come running over here

like little foxes.

But we do.

And a body like this will help us cure

a condition like this.

You, boy, bottle this up.

And you, pay these men.

Seven pounds and 14 shillings.

Oh, and, gentlemen.

If you have any more in this pristine condition,

I will compensate you more than adequately.

- You screwed me last night. - Oh.

I thought I could count on you!

Fat man, here, have a pint. Here.

Apologies for not showing up, right?

But as Lord as my witness,

we did not resurrect a single soul last night.

So where'd you get the money, then?

Donald. Jamie.

None? How do you live, boy?

- Here, Jamie, lad. - Aye. Milk it is.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Cheers, to all ye filthy Scots!

Yeah!

Who the hell is Donald?

"Was" Donald.

Good friend. Was.

- Ah! I hate you! - Well, I hate you more.

Ah, come here, ha!

Judy, did you hear that if you're buried,

- you might not meet your maker? - Oh?

- Yes. Come here. - * Da, da-da, da-da, da-da. *

What was that for?

I wanted to see what would happen

if I had to bury you.

I'd be at rest and my soul would go to Heaven.

- Hell. - Heaven.

- Heaven. - Hell.

But some people will not get that pleasure.

Oh?

Indeed. They're called resurrectionists.

Resu-what?

Grave robbers, Judy.

- Nobody is safe. - But why not use

all the dead bodies that die from sickness?

Because they can only use the bodies of criminals.

It's the law!

So they can definitely use yours.

Uh-huh.

Hey.

We have work to do.

* *

You seem quieter than normal, and that's saying something.

I don't like it.

What, the money?

- Playing God. - Billy.

We're two Irish immigrants sitting in a pub

on a Sunday afternoon when most people are in church.

There ain't nothing God-like about any of this.

'Tisn't right.

Something wet, if you would.

Hey, hey. Kindly keep all your consumption to yourself.

It ain't dropsy, but she's still got to be worth more

than the average healthy whore.

Wet enough?

- Nope. - Allow me to rectify that.

- My name is William Burke. - Abigail Simpson.

Ugh.

Oh, that's a nasty cough you got.