Jack McCarthy and Henry Joy stood together on the Sackville Street bridge. They were lost in their own thoughts as they surveyed the damage done to the Four Courts building. The morning was quiet. Only the soft sound and rhythm of the Liffey could be heard as it made its way to Dublin Bay. They had heard the stories of the great explosion, the collapse of the great copper dome and the clouds of smoke that rose from the smoldering gap where the dome once capped the beauty of the building.