Warrior

'No, he's yonder. See?'

Hervey peered in the direction Lord Holderness pointed.

There indeed, fifty yards away, was the lion, all but concealed in a patch of gorse. 'Perhaps he will discover a thorn in his foot?'

'Well, I for one shall not play Androcles if he does!' declared Lord Holderness, but as composed as before. 'See, he lowers his tail, like a cat before it pounces on a mouse.'

'I hope to God it's not intending to run in on the troop,' said Hervey, wishing he had his telescope.

'Not on the troop, I suspect. Look yonder, to the left, a furlong – one of Prall's videttes. Most tempting to a lion, don't you suppose?'

Hervey saw. 'I'd better tell them.'

'I believe we ought.'

'I think, with respect, Colonel, it would be better if you stood your ground here. If the lion backs . . .'

'I concur.'

Hervey spurred into a trot, taking as indirect a route as he could, keeping to the tree line until he was at the shortest point from the two mounted sentries. He now put his mare into a brisker trot (thinking that any faster pace might encourage the lion to run in at him) and made straight for them.

'So-ho, F Troop!' he called from fifty yards, believing they had not seen his approach.

But another sentry, dismounted, stepped from behind a clump of gorse and raised his hand to challenge. 'Good afternoon, Major Hervey, sir!'

Hervey wore the regimental undress of a major, content to leave his acting rank behind in the colony. 'Doolan, isn't it? How far distant did you observe me?'

'Saw you come out from the trees, sir!' Doolan, being from Liverpool, elongated the 'sir' (which he pronounced 'sair') more than any man in the Sixth.

'And do you perceive anything else?'

'Sir?'

'Look yonder,' (he pointed) 'two hundred yards, standing by itself, a large bush of gorse. D'ye see?'

'Sir.'

'The other side of it, there crouches a lion.'

'Sir.' Doolan had experience of such schemes. He knew it was his duty to relay whatever information an officer gave him. And then the officer would judge the address with which the corporal acted in response. It mattered not that the information was preposterous.

'No, Doolan: it is no play. There is a lion escaped and it has taken refuge on the drilling ground. Go tell Captain Prall at once. My compliments, and ask him to form line to try to turn the creature back should it try to go further onto the common. The picket has been sent for, with carbines, and the colonel is in the field.'

'Sir!'

Hervey acknowledged the salute, reined about and put his mare for the trees again. Doolan might be a delinquent (if only of a pay night), but he knew him to be sharp enough to alert the Troop.

By the time he got back to Lord Holderness the picket was coming up. 'F Troop will form line to back him if he tries to go further, Colonel. Is there any sign of a keeper?'

Lord Holderness nodded in the direction of the road.

Hervey saw two men folding a net, and another with a noose on a pole about twenty feet long.

'They say the beast's harmless enough. Tame, almost. He's been sitting by yonder bush since you left.'

'What would you have me do now, Colonel?'

Lord Holderness smiled and shook his head. 'Watch the entertainment before us! I suppose you might have the picket take post and load.'

Hervey reined about and told the picket officer to get the ten men into line just in advance of the trees. 'And make ready.'

Cornet Hawkes saluted, and turned to the picket serjeant, who had heard the orders well enough. 'Carry on, Serjeant Henry!'

'Sir!' The picket serjeant smiled ruefully. Carry on – as if he had any particular expertise in lion hunting!

At last the keepers were ready with the net. They advanced confidently into the open, calling the lion by name – 'Samson!'

Serjeant Henry motioned to the picket to follow. 'Keep your distance, mind. Give 'em room to work. Fifty paces; no closer!'

'A regular bandobast, Hervey!' Lord Holderness pressed his charger to the walk.

Hervey nodded. It did indeed have the appearance of a tiger shoot, or a hog hunt. All they needed was the elephant and its mahout and the scene would be complete.

As the keepers closed on the gorse, the lion at last stirred itself, getting to its feet and turning round to face them, with a look not unlike a boy caught in an orchard.

'Come, Samson, my lad,' called the chief keeper, with not the slightest trepidation.

When he got within reach he began gently playing out the pole. The lion raised a paw and swiped at the noose – not violently, more as if it were a mild irritant, like a fly buzzing too close to his face.

The keeper tried again. The lion swiped at the noose once more.

But the keeper was patient, and the lion showed no inclination to make off one way or the other. Ten minutes passed in an almost playful attempt to snare the runaway.

At length, however, the keeper judged he was beat. 'Net, then, lads,' he told the other two.

The assistants came alongside him, almost as fearlessly, and readied themselves.

'A good bold cast, mind. Ready?'

'Ay.'

He tried again with the noose, to distract the animal. 'Now!'

They cast high, the weighted corners spreading the net perfectly. But the lion sidestepped and the net fell across its back and quarters.

The keepers at once knew the game was up. But before they could move, the lion, frighted by the thing that had leapt on its back, sprang.

The chief keeper jabbed furiously with the pole as the beast tore at the downed assistant's shoulder.

Dragoons ran in to take aim.

But Lord Holderness was already out of the saddle, sabre in hand. He ran at the lion, driving the point into its flank. The animal roared in pain, freeing the wretched keeper, and made to leap at its attacker.

At that instant the chief keeper managed to thrust the noose over its head. 'Don't shoot! Don't shoot!'

'Don't shoot!' echoed Lord Holderness.

Hervey, too, was now out of the saddle, sabre drawn. 'Will it hold?' he shouted.

'It will! Just don't alarum 'im. He's a good old soul.'

Hervey looked at Lord Holderness. 'Colonel?'

'Let him be. Let him walk him back to the road. The picket can follow. Such a magnificent creature. I never thought I should come as close to the king of beasts!' He looked at the blood on his sword with evident dismay.

Hervey, bemused, turned to the savaged keeper. The man was already sitting up, dragoons showing him consideration. His shoulder was badly torn, but he would live – as would the lion. 'Shall we leave the picket officer to carry on, Colonel?' (there was only so much a senior officer should do).