The Sabre's Edge Page 14

  'Green—, I suppose?’

  Vanneck nodded. 'That, and his father's a tea merchant, in Lincolnshire.’ He paused, then added, 'In Stamford,’ as if that fact might be of some use.

  Hervey smiled ruefully. 'Evidently they drink a lot of tea in Stamford if he can afford Williams's bay.'

  'Oh, he's not short of money. On the contrary. The trouble is his ambition is rather in advance of his capability. He's yet to pass out of riding school.'

  'Indeed?'

  'I did tell him that he might buy a more tractable charger to begin with, but he seemed keen to make a splash.'

  'Poor fellow.'

  'Yes. And the RM's been sick the while, so the rough-riders have had their fun with him, I'm afraid.'

  Hervey laid his cap and whip on the table. 'Can't you help at all, Myles?'

  'I'm doing just that, Hervey. I take him out beyond the syces' huts late of an afternoon, where there's no one to see. But I'm not sure he has the hands or legs for it, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't the head.'

  'Oh dear. And the drill season about to start.'

  'Quite. I'm afraid the dragoons have a poor opinion of him already. He's too stiff about the place.'

  'It's hardly surprising from what you tell me. But there have been stiff-necks before; he can overcome that in time. You will keep at him, Myles?'

  Vanneck sighed. 'Yes, Hervey. Of course I will. But the others have no such duty as they see it. The trouble is, he has no conversation - and seemingly no interests. At mess the other night even the chaplain gave up on him, and then he fell off his chair quite stupefied.'

  'The chaplain?'

  'No, Green.'

  Hervey smiled again. 'Well, there at least is sign of a kindred spirit, is there not?'

  Vanneck smiled too. 'You would think so, but to hear them you'd imagine the cornets had become temperance Methodists.'

  'Seems a hopeless case then.'

  But Vanneck's sense of propriety took hold again. 'There must have been worse, Hervey. It's perhaps because there's scarce been anything to do these last few months but bear the heat and the rain.'

  It was a decent response, and Hervey would not gainsay it, though in truth he could not think of another officer who had made so unpromising a beginning. 'How has Armstrong been, by the way?'

  'It would be impossible to praise him excessively.'

  'That's as I supposed. How is his family?'

  'All well, I understand. Mrs Armstrong is schoolmistress again. There's an ayah for the three babies.'

  Hervey faltered - just an instant - at being reminded there were now three. 'Big babies, two of them.'

  'Yes. They brought the eldest to stables the other evening.'

  Hervey made an effort to collect himself. 'Now, we must speak of the state of the troop. I think I had better look at the order books of late, and then perhaps the acquittance rolls.'

  But first he would need to see the muster, and Vanneck looked pained as he opened it at the first page, for it seemed there were as many names struck through with red as not.

  Hervey stared at it forlornly. He had shaken the hand of every man on attesting. These had been his dragoons. The red pen strokes looked every bit as bloody as the sabre's, and not a fraction as glorious.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FAMILY MATTERS

  Three days later

  Hervey's little Marwari stood motionless, head down to her knees, the fever so great that her neck and flanks ran with sweat as if she had just galloped a mile. 'What do you think, David?' The veterinary surgeon shook his head as he felt the mare's chest and belly. 'A most violent swelling - malignant, certainly. When did it first come to notice?'

  Private Johnson answered. 'Last night, sir, when I came after watch-setting. She'd broken out a bit on 'er neck, an' she'd left 'er feed.'

  'What exercise had she had?'

  'An hour in the mornin', sir, in hand.'

  Sledge stepped back to look at the mare again. 'By common practice I should draw at least two quarts of blood, but I hold with it less and less.' He shook his head. 'If the blood's poisoned it will have some beneficial effect, but otherwise we'll only weaken an already weak animal, and I think she's going to need her strength.'

  ‘I’m content to follow your advice’ said Hervey, sounding mystified. 'I've not seen a horse looking as she. What do you suppose it is?’

  Sledge's brow furrowed more. 'The inflammation - quite possibly it is tumorous. Too early to say, though. It might be a case of the feltoric. I think we had better purge her.'

  Hervey nodded, and turned to his groom. 'Johnson?'

  'Ay, sir.'

  'I can make up the purgative myself if you want,' said Sledge, putting his coat back on.

  'We can do that well enough, can't we, Johnson?' 'Sir.'

  Sledge turned to Hervey's groom. 'A full quart of hot gruel with four ounces of electuary of senna and double of castor oil. Put in a measure of Glauber's salts, too.'

  'Right sir.'

  'You shall have to watch her carefully, Johnson. I must know if there's any material change. And the swelled part must be rubbed twice daily with the blistering oils. Come to the dispense and I'll have my assistant give you a good measure.'

  'Right sir.'

  'And I'll make a fever ball. She may take it at evening stables.'

  Johnson nodded again, writing carefully in his notebook.

  'Give her only warm water, in small quantities, mind, and the same with mashes. Three or four times in the day. She might be tempted. But she will require every attention.'

  'Of course, sir.'

  'Good man.'

  They left Johnson to begin his ministrations, and walked back along the troop lines. 'You don't think we need move her?' asked Hervey.

  Sledge shook his head. 'I see nothing she might transmit. Best keep her be.'

  Hervey said nothing.

  They walked a few more steps. 'You'll have heard about the RM last night?'

  'No.' The rising cadence suggested Hervey was now alerted, however.

  'Blind drunk and put to bed by the picket.'

  He was not surprised he hadn't heard. It might be a shade embarrassing for the riding master this morning, but hardly of great moment. 'And?'

  'He was ranting against Rose.'

  'Oh.'

  'Yes.'

  Hervey thought for a moment. 'How did you come to hear of it?'

  'I saw it. I was called out to the colic in B Troop. Broad could be heard the other side of the lines.'

  'Then it is known about officially.'

  'I don't know for sure, but I think not. I told the picket-corporal to say nothing.'

  That was a bold thing to have done for an officer who held no powers of command, thought Hervey. And humane, too. 'Who was it?'

  'Someone from A Troop. I forget his name. Did you speak of Broad and Rose with Joynson, by the way?'

  When, three days ago, Sledge had told Hervey all he knew, they had talked about it long. And in the end they had decided that Hervey would speak confidentially with the commanding officer. But now he shook his head. 'I had thought to speak first with Rose, as soon as he comes back from his shooting. I think I'd better apprise Joynson now, though. It's not right that we don't warn him if it's come to this.'

  'Rather a fine mess in the making, I'd say.'

  'Well, it wouldn't be the first time.'

  'Hervey, you seem remarkably phlegmatical.'

  'You misjudge me if you think I approve. Rose has not acted like a gentleman. There's scarce more to say, is there?'

  'Not acted like a gentleman? I doubt Rose would see it that way, since he'd not recognize Broad as one. Just like a bit of foolery with a housemaid, really.'

  'Don't be too hard, David. It seems ten times worse here than if we were in Hounslow. And Mrs Broad's a deuced handsome woman.'

  Sledge held his peace. Instead he stopped at one of the stalls to look over the new grey that Hervey had bought for his trumpeter. 'The talk in the wet can
teen, by the way, is of money changing hands between Barrow and Nirmal Sen.'

  Hervey sighed. Two of the troop-leaders on the primrose path, and for all to see. He felt sorry for the major. 'Ay, Johnson told me last night. How do these things get abroad? It could hardly have come from Nirmal Sen. He can't very well own to bribing a Company official.'

  'So you suppose the talk is accurate?'

  'I suppose no such thing. You must not let on, 'but the major spoke to me of it three days ago. I told him there was no more reason to presume Barrow capable of it than anyone else.'

  Sledge stood up having run a hand down each of the grey's legs. 'Very noble. Do you suppose any would agree with you?'

  Hervey looked surprised.

  'If it were me or Ledley or the paymaster it would be the same,' said Sledge.

  'Oh, come. That is a calumny on the regiment. It might have been Towcester's view but that's of the past.'

  Sledge raised his eyebrows as if unconvinced. 'I think you chose well, this grey,' he said, nodding to the trumpeter's new pride. 'I think it safe to pay the balance.'

  'Even to Nirmal Sen?'

  'There's no question but that he's supplying good horses.'

  Hervey smiled in a resigned way. 'Shall you come to evening stables?'

  'Of course.'

  'And shall you dine? I intend doing.' 'Then so shall I.'

  ★ * ★

  Hervey drained his coffee cup and placed it on the major's desk. 'And that is the long and the short of it.'

  Major Joynson had taken off his spectacles and begun to polish them. It had become so much his idiosyncrasy that Hervey found himself wondering at what point the polishing would begin, and the length of time and vigorousness of the polishing, for this tended to indicate the process of cogitation and the degree of difficulty presented by the solution. This morning the polishing had been slow and methodical, suggesting that the case of Rose and Broad was not to be treated with summary, and perhaps condign, justice. 'How much of it do you suppose is generally known?'

  Hervey raised both eyebrows.

  'Yes. You're right,' said Joynson wearily.

  'And if it's not known about already then it can be but a matter of time. Broad is a sick man, his wife is unfaithful, and with a brother officer. These things can hardly conduce to tranquillity.'

  Still Joynson polished. 'What would you do were you me?'

  'What could I do? Would I have any option but to require Rose to leave?'

  Major Joynson had not hoped for a reply in the interrogative. Nevertheless it gave him an opportunity to exhaust all hope of alternatives. 'Would he have to leave the regiment? Sell out,

  I mean. Or might he go elsewhere for a time? Somewhere else in India, even. The staff?'

  Hervey paused to consider. ‘If Broad had been other than riding master or another from the ranks, and had Rose intended marriage with Mrs Broad, then I suppose it might just have been arranged. But very evidently these are not the conditions.'

  'And so Rose must sell out?'

  Hervey was becoming exasperated at the major's unwillingness to draw the remaining conclusion. 'Neither you nor I make the rules, sir.'

  The major sighed. 'If only we were ordered on campaign.'

  'There is that, I grant you,' said Hervey. 'But very evidently that is not a condition on which we can count either.'

  'I suppose, then, that first I must have Broad before me and ask what he wishes to be done. Or perhaps first I should see Rose?'

  Hervey sighed to himself. 'Really, sir, I think it makes no difference whatever. You shall have to see both of them.'

  'And Mrs Broad shall have to leave the cantonment at once.'

  Hervey hesitated. 'I think she must. But do let us be kind.'

  'Yes, yes,' said the major, suddenly increasing the speed of his polishing. 'Oh dear. Poor woman, poor woman. These things in my experience are never quite as the Commandments suggest.'

  Hervey was not sure of the major's point, but he judged it of no matter. 'And as for the tattle about Barrow, I'm afraid I can add nothing but that David Sledge has told me it is the talk of the wet canteen. Indeed, I had heard so myself.'

  Major Joynson stopped his polishing and replaced his spectacles. 'Very well. I shall summon Nirmal Sen. We had better lance this sore in the same way.'

  Hervey got up and took his cap.

  The major took off his glasses and unaccountably began polishing again. 'Oh, and Hervey, I am very gratified by your counsel. As you say, neither you nor I make the rules.'

  'No, sir.'

  'And in that connection I would urge you most earnestly to look to your own arrangements regarding . . . regarding your arrangements. There has been talk, I hear ... in the drawing rooms.'

  That night in the mess there were few officers, and Hervey, more tired than he had supposed after his first full day in uniform, had not been greatly inclined to join them. However, he had been absent from the table for so long that he thought it a positive duty to dine. He had arrived not many minutes before the khansamah announced dinner and found himself at once the senior.

  It was the Sixth's custom for the most junior dining officer to sit on the senior's left, with any guest of the mess on the other hand. It was usually an agreeable position to find oneself in, for both senior and junior, but this evening Hervey found that it promised otherwise, for the junior was Cornet Green and the senior of the two guests was the bishop's chaplain, there at the invitation of Seton Canning with whom he had been at school.

  'Reverend sir,' said Hervey as they stood by their chairs. 'Would you say grace?'

  'Benedic Domine . . .' began the bishop's chaplain solemnly, and continued at some length.

  'Per Jesum Christum Dominum Nostrum. Amen,' answered the table, as best they could, when at last he was finished. Strickland made the sign of the cross - evidence, indeed, of Sir Ivo's benevolent dominion. Poor Strickland had almost been forced onto half pay by Lord Towcester's malignance in matters of religion.

  Hervey turned to his right as they sat, to begin what he feared must be an unedifying conversation. He had formed no very high opinion of the Bishop of Calcutta, and he supposed his chaplain to be of the same stamp. But from the other side of the table the senior lieutenant addressed him on behalf of the subalterns. 'We were deliberating, sir, on the efficacy of the sabre's point as against the edge, and wondered what was your opinion in the matter.'

  Hervey was taken aback somewhat. Indeed, he suspected a prank. It had never been the Sixth's custom to speak of matters of this sort, and Oliver Finucane had certainly shown no previous zeal. He glanced at the other subalterns, each of them showing quite extraordinary attention (except Vanneck, whose eyes were lowered), and wondered what transformation there might have been in the months of his absence. 'I am not rightly sure it is a proper subject to discuss in front of a guest such as Mr Stephenson,' he replied, with a note that implied he would somehow welcome clarification.

  'Oh, do not desist for my part,' implored the chaplain. 'These are matters of very evident moment to gentlemen of your calling.'

  Hervey would rather have received a less enthusiastic endorsement of the subject, which now commanded the attention of the whole table, and which the serving of soup did nothing to abate. 'It is not reducible to an absolute position. It depends on the nature of the engagement. And opinion would also vary depending whether we spoke of the old- or the new-pattern sabre.'

  'But it is so, is it not,' continued Finucane, 'that but three or four inches of the point only is generally sufficient to despatch an adversary, whereas a cut will wound him only - albeit perhaps grievously.'

  'True, but if you close with your adversary at speed - which is to what cavalry ought to aim -then it is not easy to draw back the blade after the thrust home. I have known of swords being struck from the hand, or breaking, with the hilt striking a man's breast after the blade had run through his body—'

  Hervey did not see Cornet Green's face drain rapidly of its colour -
only that he suddenly sprang up with hand clasped to mouth and rushed from the room.

  There was much laughter.

  Hervey now saw what was the game, and was in two minds about being used in the subalterns' rag. But he could not find it in him to show it. 'Something I said?' he asked, with an expression of forced solemnity.

  Seton Canning shook his head in mock despair. Vanneck continued to look down, and the others stifled their sniggers as best they could.

  The rest of dinner was a wearying affair, for the chaplain's conversation proved as uninteresting as it was wholesome. He seemed entirely in innocence of what had passed, so that there was little profit in Hervey's trying to explain it, and instead there followed a tedious dialogue on the state of the various missions to Hindoostan. Afterwards, when the port had circulated twice, Hervey led the party back to the ante-room, where a game of primero was got up. He himself stood aloof from it taking his brandy and soda - the married officer's 'nightcap', the sweetener of libatory breath.