He drained the cup. Almost at once his head began to swim. ‘Is there a very lot of gin in this, Johnson?’
Johnson shrugged.
Hervey looked at the pile of letters on the table beside his bed: from home, from Hounslow, from the Horse Guards, from Kezia Lankester – all unanswered. Tomorrow he would make a beginning, perhaps, if he continued well; and if Johnson didn’t poison him with his cures.
‘Have you seen Serjeant Wainwright?’
‘I ’ave, sir. We ’ad a wet in t’canteen last night on account o’ ’is new stripe.’
Hervey nodded. ‘And you, Johnson?’
‘Ah’m all right, sir. Al’a’s am.’
He nodded again. Yes, Johnson was always ‘all right’. Except for the unfathomable business of the coral; or rather, his refusing to confide in him about it. It was good to have him back, and the same Johnson as in the best of times.
‘I mean that you did fine service. Never more so than when you brought up Molly when Gilbert fell. I’m excessively grateful.’
Johnson shifted awkwardly. He didn’t much like things singled out like that. And he had been as fond of Gilbert as had Hervey himself. It was the very devil of a thing to have to leave an old friend to the savages and the vultures – old friends, indeed, for Corporal Dilke had been a decent messing-mate. ‘It were nowt, sir,’ he muttered, turning to the bearer for distraction. ‘Come on, Inky! Tha’s quicker than that as a rule!’
The bearer beamed happily as he tucked in the last of the corners.
‘Enkosi,’ said Hervey, trying to be cheery. ‘Enkosi.’
The bearer picked up the sweated linen, bowed several times while still smiling broadly, and trotted out of the room.
‘’E’s a good’n, sir, is Thandi. Reckon we should take ‘im back wi’ us.’
‘Perhaps we should.’
The door opened.
Johnson braced. ‘Sir!’
Hervey looked round to discover the cause of Johnson’s sudden soldiery. ‘Somervile! I am glad to see you.’
‘And I you,’ said his old friend, advancing on him with hand outstretched.
Hervey took it, though the vigour with which Somervile shook it reminded him he had a way to go before being back to hale condition. ‘Shall you stay? Will you have tea, or something stronger?’
‘I will have tea with you, gladly. Emma has forbidden me anything stronger in the afternoon.’
Johnson left for his tea-making duties.
‘Is there news from the frontier?’
‘Nothing but tranquillity. No reports of reiving in weeks.’
Hervey let the blanket slip from his shoulders: he was getting hotter and he was certain it did not help. ‘That is gratifying.’
Somervile pulled up a chair. ‘It most positively is. I have just been reading Somerset’s report to General Bourke. Admirable, Hervey; quite admirable.’
Hervey was unclear as to quite what was admirable. ‘I should like to see it.’
‘Oh, you will, you will. Admirable – a most handsome acknowledgement. Your Captain Fairbrother is evidently a man of resource and sensibility. I wonder the castle had never sought to employ him before. And most commending it is of you too – in the fullest terms imaginable. I declare I thought Somerset a tricky man when first I met him, but he has shown himself of a very true disposition.’
‘I am pleased for it. It would not have served without Fairbrother.’
‘You saved Somerset’s life.’
‘We were several. Believe me: no single man could have done anything for Somerset at that moment. I confess I thought him lost.’
‘He says he has written to his uncle FitzRoy; that shall do you no harm! And Bourke too has written to the Horse Guards. I very much hope there’s a promotion in it, else I myself shall have to write to Huskisson.’
Hervey tried a self-deprecating smile. He thought the praise overblown. But he would certainly not gainsay it.
‘I have approved your home leave.’
Hervey blinked. ‘But I have not requested it.’
‘You will not decline it?’
‘I cannot leave my command like that!’
‘Your command – both Rifles and dragoons – is well found. Thanks to you. And there are things I would have you advance on my behalf in Whitehall. We have a peace for now in Kaffraria, but I am certain it will not hold indefinitely. Si vis pacem, preparate bellum?
Hervey nodded.
‘Besides, you have obligations under the law,’ added Somervile, with something of a smile.
‘Law? What law?’ asked Hervey, rallying at the challenge.
‘Mosaic: When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies.’
Hervey shook his head. ‘I confess I haven’t an idea what you’re speaking of. The fever must be addling me.’
Somervile picked up the bible from the table beside Hervey’s bed. ‘Deuteronomy,’ he said, turning the pages confidently. ‘I’m astonished you need reminding. Here, chapter twenty … verse seven: “And what man is there that hath betrothed a wife…”’ He handed it to him. ‘Read on. And none of your churchy primness! A wise bird, Moses.’
Hervey read. And he smiled (a shade lickerish, thought Somervile) as he tried to imagine complying with the injunction. ‘Oh yes, wisdom indeed!’
‘I fear, though, that our Nation may think the business here but a skirmish compared with the Greek war.’
Hervey quickened. ‘Oh? How so?’
‘Nothing worth your regrets: no work for cavalry, as far as I can make out; nor even for foot,’ he began airily. ‘The whole thing appears to have been decided at sea. We had first news of it this morning, a considerable battle in the Ionian: a combined fleet – English, French, Russian – with Codrington commanding. Appears they sent the Turkish fleet to the bottom of Navarino Bay.’
‘Navarino Bay?’
‘You will know it better as Pylos, perhaps, if you recall Thucydides.’
‘I’m afraid I recall nothing. A considerable affair, you say?’
‘Indeed, a hundred ships and more. Bigger than Trafalgar.’
Hervey sat upright, the blanket quite falling away. ‘Have you the casualty lists?’
Somervile shook his head. ‘I expect they’ll come with the official papers. This is news from The Times only. But it was a desperate affair, I think. The report said perhaps four or five thousand.’
Hervey said not a word. His mind was wholly occupied by thoughts of Peto: had he not been under orders to join Codrington’s squadron? His fevered face began losing the remains of its colour.
Somervile leaned forward to steady him. ‘Hervey, my dear fellow, are you quite well?’
THE END
HISTORICAL AFTERWORD
The extraordinary ‘Indian’ gardens at Sezincote, with the statuary that so engaged Hervey and Kezia Lankester, are open to the public. So too is the ‘Mughal’ house.
Private Johnson’s brush with the Bow Street investigators was also not without foundation. At the Court of Exchequer on 29th April 1827, The King v. Giuseppe Guecco (on various counts of importing coral without payment of duty), the jury, after retiring for about twenty minutes, returned a verdict for the Crown, with an earnest recommendation of leniency. It was agreed by counsel on both sides to compound for the offence by the payment of £400.
A word on South African history: until Nelson Mandela, Shaka Zulu was probably the most famous southern African in history, though for rather different reasons. He murdered – there is no getting round the word – a million people. He was indeed most singular.