‘Then it’s not Ozz, either,’ said Polly. ‘Fill yer hat with bread, fill yer boots with soup! And steal the cheese, eh, sarge?’
‘That’s right. We’ve always been a very practical regiment,’ said Jackrum. ‘An army marches on its stomach, lads. On mine, o’ course, it could troop the colour!’
‘It was her own fault. She should have been able to tie up her own garters,’ said Lofty.
‘Yeah. Probably wanted her cheese stolen,’ said Tonker.
‘Wise words,’ said Jackrum. ‘Off you go, then . . . cheesemongers!’
The mist was still thick as they made their way down through the woods to the path by the river. Polly’s skirt kept catching in brambles. It must have done so before she’d joined up, but she’d never noticed it so much. Now it was seriously hindering her. She reached up and absent-mindedly adjusted the socks, which she’d separated to use as padding elsewhere. She was too skinny, that was the trouble. The ringlets had been useful there. They said ‘girl’. In their absence, she had to rely on a scarf and a socks change.
‘All right,’ she whispered, as the ground levelled out. ‘Remember, no swearing. Giggle, don’t snigger. No belching. No weapons, either. They can’t be that stupid in there. Anyone brought a weapon?’
There was a shaking of heads.
‘Did you bring a weapon, Tonk— Magda?’
‘No, Polly.’
‘No item of any sort with a certain weapon-like quality?’ Polly insisted.
‘No, Polly,’ said Tonker demurely.
‘Anything, perhaps, with an edge?’
‘Oh, you mean this?’
‘Yes, Magda.’
‘Well, a woman can carry a knife, can’t she?’
‘It’s a sabre, Magda. You’re trying to hide it, but it’s a sabre.’
‘But I’m only using it like a knife, Polly.’
‘It’s three feet long, Magda.’
‘Size isn’t important, Polly.’
‘No one believes that. Leave it behind a tree, please. That is an order.’
‘Oh, all right!’
After a while, Shufti, who had appeared to be thinking deeply, said: ‘I can’t understand why she didn’t just tie up her own garter . . .’
‘Shuft, what the hell—’ Tonker began.
‘—heck,’ Polly corrected her, ‘and you’re talking to Betty, remember.’
‘What the heck are you talking about, Betty?’ said Tonker, rolling her eyes.
‘Well, the song, of course. And you don’t have to lie down to tie a garter in any case. It’d be more difficult,’ said Shufti. ‘It’s all a bit silly.’
No one said anything for a while. It was, perhaps, easy to see why Shufti was on her quest.
‘You’re right,’ said Polly eventually. ‘It’s a silly song.’
‘A very silly song,’ Tonker agreed.
They all agreed. It was a silly song.
They stepped out on to the river path. Ahead of them a small group of women were hurrying round the bend in the track. Automatically, the squad looked up. The keep grew out of the sheer cliff; it was hard to see where the unhewn rock ended and the ancient masonry began. They could see no windows. From here, it was just a wall extending to the sky. No way in, it said. No way out. In this wall are few doors, and triey close with finality.
This close to the deep, slow river, the air was bone-chillingly cold, and grew colder the higher they looked. Around the curve they could see the little rock shelf where the back door was, and the women ahead of them talking to a guard.
‘This is not going to work,’ said Shufti under her breath. ‘They’re showing him some papers. Anyone brought theirs? No?’
The soldier had looked up and was watching the girls, with that blank official expression of someone who was not looking for excitement or adventure in his life.
‘Keep moving,’ murmured Polly. ‘If it all gets really bad, burst into tears.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ said Tonker.
Their treacherous feet were taking them closer all the time. Polly kept her eyes downwards, as was proper in an unmarried woman. There would be others watching, she knew it. They’d probably be bored, they might not be expecting any trouble, but up on those walls there were eyes fixed on her.
They reached the guard. Just inside the narrow stone doorway there was another one, lounging in the shadow.
‘Papers,’ said the guard.
‘Oh, sir, I have none,’ said Polly. She’d been working out the speech on the way down through the wood. War, fears of invasion, people fleeing, no food . . . you didn’t have to make things up, you just had to reassemble reality. ‘I had to leave—’
‘Oh, right,’ the guard interrupted. ‘No papers? No problem! If you’d just step in and see my colleague? Nice of you to join us!’ He stood aside and waved a hand towards the dark entrance.
Mystified, Polly stepped inside, with the others following. Behind them, the door swung shut. Inside, she saw that they were in a long passage with many slits in the walls to rooms on either side. Lamplight shone from the slits. She could see shadows beyond them. Bowmen concealed there could turn anyone trapped in here into mince.
At the end of the corridor another door swung open. It led into a small room in which there sat, at a desk, a young man in a uniform Polly didn’t recognize, although it had a captain’s insignia. Standing to one side was a much, much larger man in the same uniform, or possibly two uniforms stitched together. He had a sword. There was that about him: when this man held a sword, it was clearly being held, and held by him. The eye was drawn to it. Even Jade would have been impressed.
‘Good morning, ladies,’ said the captain. ‘No papers, eh? Take off your scarves, please.’
And that’s it, thought Polly, as the bottom of her stomach dropped away. And we thought we were being clever. There was nothing for it but to obey.
‘Ah. You’ll tell me your hair was shaved off as a punishment for fraternizing with the enemy, eh?’ said the man, barely looking up. ‘Except for you,’ he added to Igorina. ‘Didn’t feel like fraternizing with any enemies? Something wrong with decent Zlobenian boys?’
‘Er . . . no,’ said Igorina.
Now the captain gave them a bright little smile. ‘Gentlemen, let’s not mess about, shall we? You walk wrong. We do watch, you know. You walk wrong and you stand wrong. You,’ he pointed to Tonker, ‘have got a bit of shaving soap under one ear. And you, sir, are either deformed or you’ve tried the old trick of sticking a pair of socks down your vest.’
Crimson with embarrassment and humiliation, Polly hung her head.
‘Getting in or out disguised as washerwomen,’ said the captain, shaking his head. ‘Everyone outside this stupid country knows that one, lads, but most of them make more effort than you boys. Well, for you the war is over. This place has got big, big dungeons and I don’t mind telling you you’re probably going to be better off in here than outside— Yeah, what do you want?’
Shufti had raised a hand. ‘Can I show you something?’ she said. Polly didn’t turn, but watched the captain’s face as, beside Polly, cloth rustled. She couldn’t believe it. Shufti was raising her skirt. . .
‘Oh,’ said the captain, sitting back in his chair. His face went red.
There was an explosion from Tonker, but it was an explosion of tears. They came out accompanied by a long, mournful wail, as she threw herself on to the floor.
‘We walked so-oo far! We lay in ditches to hide from soldiers! There’s no food! We want to work! You called us boys! Why are you so-oo cruel?’
Polly knelt down and half picked her up, patting her on the back as Tonker’s shoulders heaved with the force of her sobs.
‘It’s been very hard for all of us,’ she said to the red-faced captain.
‘If you can take him down I can garrotte the other one with my apron string,’ whispered Tonker in her ear, between howls.
‘Have you seen everything you wish to see?’ said Polly to the blushing captain, every syllable tinkling with ice.
‘Yes! No! Yes! Please!’ said the captain, giving the guard the agonized glance of a man who knows that he’s going to be the laughing stock of the whole fort inside the hour. ‘Once was quite— I mean, I’ve seen . . . look, I’m completely satisfied. Private, go and fetch one of the women from the laundry. I am so sorry, ladies, I . . . I have a job to do . . .’
‘Do you enjoy it?’ said Polly, still freezing.
‘Yes!’ said the captain hurriedly. ‘I mean, no! No, yes! We have to be careful . . . ah . . .’
The big soldier had returned, trailing a woman. Polly stared.
‘Some, er, new volunteers,’ said the captain, waving vaguely towards the squad. ‘I’m sure Mrs Enid will have some use for them . . . er . . .’