The Sabre's Edge

'Well, I for one would not welcome being Paget's quill-driver.'

'Maybe not, Hervey. But then you would not have bedded another man's wife in the first place.'

Hervey blanched. 'David, you take it a little too personally. And there's something in Scripture, is there not, about casting the first stone?'

Sledge was a son of the manse, however, and knew his Scripture rather better than Hervey recalled his. 'That was speaking of punishment, not judgement. Anyway, it's not the same, is it, if the lady's not a lady - not a real officer's wife?' He took a long draw on his pot of ale.

'Oh, David, that's unfair. Joynson has the very devil of a job at present.'

'Ay, well, that's as maybe. But a horse that's once kicked over the traces is best shot from the team.'

Hervey was saved by the commander-in-chief. Just when it seemed the speeches and toasts were done, the general ascended the platform.

There were murmurs of surprise, and then silence.

'You tell 'im, sir!' came a voice from the back of the hall, followed by more laughter, and a certain anxiety on Joynson's part that the hogsheads might be emptying too quickly for comfort.

'Mr and Mrs Lincoln, it is an honour to be here,' began Sir Edward Paget in a voice at once commanding and warm. 'Mrs Lincoln would not know that I first met her husband more than fifteen years ago, in Spain. Indeed, it was on a very dark night and it was at a place called Corunna.'

The proverbial pin could now have been dropped. Corunna was a distant memory to just a very few of the bluecoats, but it was second only to Waterloo in the consciousness of the Sixth.

'I, a general officer, was in command of the reserve during that battle, and I and my staff had become lost. I will say no more, but had it not been for the address of a certain serjeant-major the French would have had me in their bag that night.'

There was much approval about the hall, if muted still. This was news indeed.

'As it was' - Sir Edward broke into a broad smile - 'they had me but two years later, I'm sorry to say, else it might have been me and not my brother with you at Waterloo!'

'Yer wouldn't be standing as steady then, sir!' came the voice of another wit from the back of the hall.

And there was cautious laughter about the room from those who understood the reference to Lord Uxbridge's missing leg (while Paget had lost an arm).

'It sounds as though you're not standing all that steady either!' returned Sir Edward.

There were hoots of laughter now. There was nothing more entertaining than the heckled putting down the heckler.

'But let me not suspend the celebrations any longer. Except to wish the bride and groom the best of good fortune, and to say that I half think I could send the Sixth east and be finished with the Burmans at once!'

There was now loud and sustained cheering from all quarters. Sir Edward played to the gallery, but he did so perfectly.

Eyre Somervile shook his head. 'A most curious animal, the soldier.'

Emma smiled. They stood apart from the regimentals, and she was enjoying this intimacy. 'In what way, my dear?'

'He is happier to be thought of as a number in a line, just so long as the line is his own, and with others who belong to it. You saw. There cannot be more than a few dozen who were at Corunna, and yet they all think of it as their honour, as though they had all been there, indeed.'

Emma nodded. 'A very proper pride, the sort that comes not before a fall.'

'And in men who might otherwise be outside all society.'

'Oh, indeed. They sang well in church, but I have no illusions.'

Her husband took another glass of Madeira. 'And I have observed how they are with their officers, some of whom are as stupid as half those in parliament, yet the little that is good in them is somehow magnified by the connection. And these men' - he nodded to the dozens of chevrons about the place - 'would no doubt be hurling bricks at magistrates were they not in regimentals. Yet here they all are, as if the same family. And those we saw on the road here without chevrons just biding their time until they're allowed a bit further under the blanket. I tell you, it's a system that defies reckoning. I've mocked its little absurdities often enough, but I half believe the Company could go anywhere with men like this.'

Emma sighed. 'I hope, therefore, that the Company will remain in ignorance of its treasure.'

Somervile touched her arm, for him a public gesture of unusual warmth.

'Good afternoon Mr Somervile, sir. Good afternoon, ma'am.' Armstrong's greeting recalled the two of them.

'Good afternoon, Serjeant-Major - and Mrs Armstrong,' replied Somervile, with a look of genuine pleasure.

Emma smiled as wide. 'Oh, please, don't on my account,' she said to Caithlin as she curtsied. Emma's Indian maids might bow gracefully, but they never curtsied, and, in any case, she could never think of Caithlin Armstrong as of inferior status. 'Especially, my dear, not in your condition.'

Caithlin and her husband glanced with customary pride at the swelling beneath her dress.

'I should say in our condition,' added Emma, with the same look of pride.

'Oh, Mrs Somervile,' exclaimed Caithlin, her melodious Cork never stronger. 'How happy I am for you! Is that why Miss Joynson is to be your companion, then, ma'am?'

No fact remained in the possession of but two people in Calcutta for more than a day. 'It is,' said Emma, agreeably. She could not very well add 'ostensibly', although indeed she might. Hervey's suggestion of taking in Frances Joynson for a while had come at a propitious time, though Emma certainly felt in no need of a companion.

Somervile himself was looking rather embarrassed, especially since Armstrong was smiling in a manly, confidential sort of way. There were affairs, indeed, that transcended all barriers. That did not trouble him in the slightest - Somervile was more impatient of the confines of rank than most men - but 'country matters', as he was still wont to call them, he was not at home with.

'What is the news from the east, sir?' asked Armstrong, thinking to save further talk of domestic affairs.

Somervile shook his head. 'Not good, I'm afraid, Serjeant-Major. The business is taking longer than was imagined.' He did not say by whom imagined, nor that there were some who never imagined it otherwise - the commander-in-chief, for one. 'And I fear that our embarrassment there will encourage others to . . .' (he noticed both wives listening intently) 'to . . . become rather impudent.'

Armstrong nodded. 'Well, sir, I for one shall be making in the opposite direction tomorrow with Captain Hervey. And pleased of it, too. I've no partiality for fighting with trees everywhere you turn. That Burma is no place for cavalry.'

The band had struck up a lively jig, and the commander-in-chief had rejoined the major. 'A capital display, Joynson; capital. My compliments to you. But I fear I must return to my desk. The despatches from Rangoon this morning were not at all felicitous.'

'But you still do not think the Sixth will be needed, Sir Edward?'

'No, I think not. If Campbell can break himself out of Rangoon then all should be well, even if takes some weeks more - months, even. And break out he's bound to do at some stage. But the country isn't suitable to develop cavalry operations. I've sent him reinforcements, and if need be, for escorts and the like, I'll send one of the Madras light horse.'

Paget began taking his leave, shaking hands with Mr and Mrs Lincoln, and several others besides, his smile in contrast with the earnestness of his manner with Joynson. As they reached the door he turned again to Joynson, and his former look returned. 'Things are by no means settled among the country powers hereabouts, and our difficulties in the east will only encourage them. I want a handy force here in Bengal if trouble ensues. I have to be able to count on King's cavalry. You'll have the Sixth in best condition, Eustace?'