The Sabre's Edge

Cornet Green coloured a little, put on his shako (askew, but Hervey thought best to say nothing -the adjutant would correct it soon enough), saluted and took his leave.

When he had gone, Hervey sat down and looked at Vanneck quizzically.

Vanneck sighed. 'I know. But he means well. The others have given him quite a rousting, though. His nickname's "grocer^’’.^’

'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.'