VOICES: Quite right. Of course. Hear hear. About time too.
ROGACHEV: Thank you. And — the British cavalry is in such a state, despite its fine uniforms, that their generals dare not use it, it seems. Major.
MAJOR: Yes, my lord. At the battle of the Alma, which has made such a profound impression on the general here, the famous British cavalry stood by and did nothing. The previous day at the valley of the Bulganek, their Lord Raglan ordered their cavalry to retire before they had even drawn their sabres. What humiliation!
A handbell rings.
ROGACHEV: I beg your pardon, major. Please continue.
MAJOR: The rest is detail, my lord. The theme that emerges is that their cavalry are frightened of our guns.
Voices express assent. Double doors open and JOSEPH and SERGEI come in with drinks.
ROGACHEV: Ah, Joseph, quick about it, now. Champagne for His Highness, vodka, and for me I think a small glass of still white wine. Well, gentlemen, this comes at a timely moment. Consider the victory our Cossacks will win over the British lancers and hussars and dragoons when they meet on the great plains below the Himalayas! A toast — your royal highness, my lords, gentlemen, I give you — the imperial conquest of India!
VOICES: India! We’ll show ’em! To victory! Long live the Czar!
ROGACHEV: Joseph, my trusty friend, you shall join our toast! Pour yourself a glass of wine and raise it on high!
JOSEPH: Thank you, sir, but I beg your lordship to excuse me. My wretched stomach…
Pause.
ROGACHEV: Oh, very well. But you should see a doctor about those insides of yours, do you hear me?
JOSEPH: Oh yes, your honour.
ROGACHEV: See to it. (Raises voice) Is it your wish that I put our plan before the High Command at their next meeting?
VOICES: Yes! As soon as may be! Don’t let’s delay any longer!
GENERAL: Have you a date for this Indian escapade of yours?
ROGACHEV: I soon will, general.
We are in a smallish office with an open window overlooking the Neva. Hooter noises, etc.
PEMBERTON: (Friendly) But you didn’t manage to get the date.
JOSEPH: Not yet, Mr Pemberton, I’m afraid. It’s not easy.
PEMBERTON: I imagine not.
JOSEPH: Especially not since Count Rogachev became watchful. I was a fool to get out of drinking that toast. I just couldn’t…
PEMBERTON: What does he suspect, Joseph?
JOSEPH: Not the truth, or I wouldn’t be here now. No, he merely thinks I don’t love him, which is true. I must be more careful to prevent him from seeing what I really feel about him.
PEMBERTON: How can you be sure nobody’s watching you?
JOSEPH: Because I don’t trip over a little man in a mask every time I turn a corner. It’s strange how a people as deceitful as the Russians should be so bad at anything to do with spying. Don’t worry, Mr Pemberton, I’ll get you that date.
PEMBERTON: Well, it can’t be for a few months yet, with winter coming on. In fact now I think of it…
He shuts the window.
PEMBERTON: That’s better. What is it?
JOSEPH: I just hope you’re right about those few months. I wouldn’t trust Rogachev not to get troops over the Himalayas in dead of winter by balloon. Well, a little bit of judicious eavesdropping should settle the matter.
PEMBERTON has opened and shut a drawer and now tosses a packet of banknotes on to the table between them.
PEMBERTON: I’ll look forward to it. You’d better count them.
JOSEPH: No need, Mr Pemberton.
PEMBERTON: Very well. You know, I think you’d do this work for nothing.
JOSEPH: Maybe. Maybe.
Sequence 3 — The Crimea
Near Balaclava, 17th October, 1854. In the distance a large force of Russian cavalry is manoeuvring back and forth. In the foreground a large force of British cavalry is advancing at a walk and trot. The troopers are chatting among themselves as they ride.
TROOPERS: Glory be, we’re going to have a smack at ’em at last. We’ll show those Russki swine who’s master. About time too. Who do they think they are? Our turn now, eh?
SERGEANT: (From near by) No talking in the ranks. And watch your dressing there. Smartly now. Sit up straight and take a pride in it.
OFFICERS: (From out in front) Halt! Halt the 17th. Halt the Scots Greys. Halt the 11th.
The entire cavalry division halts.
SERGEANT: Right, settle yourselves, lads. Remember they’re watching you. Prepare to charge. Now’s the time to say your prayers. Listen to your orders, listen to the trumpeter, and do what you’re told. Now, all quiet. Steady. And God bless us all.
Some moments pass in silence.
NOLAN: (Muttering) What the devil are you waiting for, Lord Lucan, you great ninny, you aristocratic booby, is it reinforcements from God’s angels you’re wanting? (To colleague) Will you just look at that ground now, boy, and tell me if you ever saw country better suited for a cavalry charge?
COLLEAGUE: You’re right, Lew, it’s ideal.
NOLAN: No narrow lanes, no woods, not as much as a damn hedge to jump, and as for the going, you couldn’t wish for better at Newmarket. And we’re all here. What’s the matter with Lord Look-On? God, it’s driving me mad.
COLLEAGUE: Keep your voice down.
More moments pass. Then the Russian cavalry in the distance start booing, jeering, laughing. Their trumpets can be heard.
NOLAN: The bastards are about to withdraw. I’ll not stand it, so I won’t.
He gallops off.
We are up with LORD LUCAN’s headquarters group, half a dozen Officers with orderlies.
STAFF CAPTAIN: They’ll be forming column in a minute, sir. In order to retire.
COLONEL: Lord Lucan, I beg you, order the charge before it’s too late.
LUCAN: I know your feelings, colonel, but you must know I cannot charge. I must follow what Lord Raglan has laid down. The Commander-in-Chief has stated most categorically that I must in no circumstances attack.
COLONEL: He’s not here now, sir. It’s a golden opportunity to deal a deadly blow.
LUCAN: Colonel, I have my orders.
NOLAN: (Approaching) Lord Lucan… Lord Lucan…
LUCAN: Who’s this fellow? (To NOLAN) Who are you, sir?
NOLAN: Captain Nolan, at your service, my lord. Now if no one else will do so, I have to tell you to your face that by failing to attack the enemy when he’s at our mercy you have neglected your duty, sir. Whatever your orders may have been, the responsibility of taking the war to the enemy is paramount and overriding.
LUCAN: How dare you, sir. Pray withdraw immediately.
NOLAN: You’re supposed to be the general commanding the cavalry division, not a damn nursemaid. Back there are some of the finest soldiers in the world, and you’re letting them just sit and chew their nails. You’re a disgrace!
The last speech is broken into by protests, etc., from LUCAN, COLONEL and STAFF CAPTAIN. NOLAN’s last words are shouted as he is hustled away.
LUCAN: I’ve a mind to have that insolent Irishman court-martialled.
COLONEL: I think it would do no good, my lord.