And so his three hundred had kept watch in the moonlight, the Rifles firing the occasional harassing volley, dragoons and riflemen retiring steadily along their former line of advance, never giving the Zulu a chance to rush them or work round a flank. Sometime after midnight Matiwane had discontinued the advance in line, reverting to the single file of the ivyo, easier to control and direct. And now, at the break of the new day and the veld coming to life, as the raptors began seeking out the first columns of warm air on which to rise to their own posts of observation (how Hervey envied them their elevation), they must begin the game again, and continue until Colonel Somerset and his red-coated battalion, with the artillery, the burghers and the legions of Xhosa, came up and delivered the decisive blow.
As soon as they had broken off the first engagement, Hervey had sent back a cornet to report to Somerset, and with orders to return as soon as possible after first light with Somerset’s intentions, for he wanted as good an idea as possible how long ‘the game’ must continue. He was surprised, however, to see him galloping back now.
‘Mr Beauchamp, you were up with the larks, I perceive.’
‘Colonel,’ replied Cornet Beauchamp, saluting and trying not to appear too eager. Yesterday was his first time in action, and his mission to Colonel Somerset his first as a galloper.
Hervey, sitting at ease astride his mare, a canteen of Johnson’s best tea in his sword hand, touched his shako peak by return.
‘Colonel Somerset’s compliments, sir, and would you see the Zulu to the Ox River one league to our rear. He will give battle there.’
Hervey sat up. ‘One league? Only one league? Are you sure? Then they marched prodigiously quick!’
‘Colonel. I came on them just before midnight not five miles from the river. I would have made them earlier but my mare went lame.’
Hervey wondered why Beauchamp had not at once taken his coverman’s horse; but that could wait.
‘After I had given Colonel Somerset your report he said they would continue the march and asked me to lead – he said he was uncertain of his guides – and we reached the river at about four o’clock. The moon was gone by then but we carried out a reconnaissance of the fords, and the colonel decided that he would stand on the defensive there on the west bank. I considered that it was proper to remain with the colonel during the reconnaissance since I would then be able to inform you precisely of the situation. I set out as soon as it was expedient. Colonel.’
Hervey nodded. ‘I don’t doubt it. You did right. How many Xhosa, by the way?’
‘Colonel Somerset said seven thousand.’
Hervey sighed – to himself, but with considerable relief. ‘Very well, Mr Beauchamp; you may rejoin your troop. Smart work.’
Johnson gave the cornet tea as he reined away.
Hervey turned to Fairbrother, who was observing the flight of distant vultures. ‘You heard that? Somerset at the river but a league back!’
Fairbrother kept his telescope to his eye. ‘I did indeed. Very gratifying. Colonel Somerset has vigour; I’ll grant you that.’
‘You might sound more convinced – or convincing.’
With no Zulu in sight, Hervey now dismounted and signalled for the troop to stand down.
‘What do you look at so intently?’
‘Yon birds. I’ve observed in the past that they can be useful.’
Hervey was well enough acquainted with vultures. In India there were so many, and carrion so plentiful, it was their absence only that was remarked. ‘How so?’
‘They’re scavengers, but I’ve long observed that it is the living which first attracts them, not the dead – which they might not always see, though they must have a hawk-eye like their cousins. It is the natural order of things on the veld: the living continually become the dead.’
Hervey was unfastening the bit to give his mare a peck of corn. ‘Fairbrother, neither of us has had any sleep, so I beg you to be brief.’
Fairbrother lowered his telescope. ‘I thought at first the Zulu might have killed a bull – the sort of thing I believe they do to fortify themselves – but observe the distribution of the birds. They’re not circling with apparent intent to come down on a particular spot; they’re patrolling a wide area. Which I presume is that occupied by the Zulu bivouac.’
‘Why aren’t they all at yesterday’s feast?’ asked Hervey as he took out his own telescope again.
‘You have your answer: it was yesterday’s feast.’
‘So quick?’
Fairbrother nodded.
Hervey peered at them for a good while. Their line of patrol was a full mile to the troop’s front, and the same in length: much as he imagined the impi to occupy in bivouac – or else in the advance. ‘If it is so – their watching the Zulu, I mean – then they’re worth a couple of dozen scouts. I wonder shall they tell us when they advance?’
‘I shall endeavour to read the signs,’ said Fairbrother airily.
Hervey nodded, and smiled. He put back the telescope in its holster and took a handful of corn from the feedbag on the saddle. His mare ate it greedily.
‘May I make a suggestion?’ asked Fairbrother.
‘By all means.’
‘You’ll send out scouts?’
‘They’re making ready this moment. It is the usual drill.’
‘I should like to ride to that little hill yonder.’ He pointed out what appeared to be the merest anthill on the green veld. ‘I’ve a notion I might see things better.’
‘I have no objection,’ said Hervey, but warily. ‘Take with you Corporal Byrne.’
‘If I may, I’d rather go unaccompanied.’
Hervey was reluctant to accede; it took only his horse to lame itself and Fairbrother would be at the mercy of the spear. But then, he had crawled about the bush at night and dealt singly with three Xhosa … ‘Very well.’
With the scouts forward, Hervey was able to stand down both troop and company to make a proper feed for the horses and breakfast for themselves. For over forty hours neither dragoon nor rifleman had eaten but what they carried in their haversacks: corn cakes, and dried meat which without slaking was like chewing bridle leather. Hervey sat on the ground holding his mare’s reins, letting her pull at the rough veld grass. It would have no goodness in it (except, he supposed, for the game – the antelope and such) but a little bulk inside would do her no harm.
He looked up at the vultures. Had they picked clean Gilbert’s bones yet? He hated the death of a horse without ceremony, without proper disposal, leaving it to the pecking and tearing of crows and ravening dogs, and then to the ants and maggots and worms … He grieved separately for Corporal Dilke.
‘All well, sir?’ came a voice of the Tyne.
‘Passing well, Sarn’t-major,’ he replied, without looking up.
‘A close shave wi’ Gilbert, I understand.’ ‘
Ay. How’s the troop?’
It was not rightly ‘procedure’ for the troop serjeant-major to speak above the head of the troop leader (and Hervey had placed his lieutenant squarely in command); but with Armstrong ‘right procedure’ was an aid, like spurs or a whip, not an end in itself. Hervey would ever welcome his counsel, or even, as now, simply his company.
‘They’re in good fettle. Them greenheads did all right yesterday. Not one unseated. And not a horse lame this morning.’
Hervey had had the parade states already, but Armstrong’s assurance was welcome nonetheless. As it had been for a dozen years and more. Indeed, he had almost begun to think of Armstrong and the army – certainly the regiment – as one and the same. ‘We made a deal of vulture meat yesterday.’