‘And Private Halter?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Lofty?’
‘Oh, yes, sir. Both of them, sir. Don’t go there, sir.’
‘What about Shufti?’
‘Expecting a baby, sir.’
Suddenly, Blouse looked terrified. ‘Oh, no. Here?’
‘Not for several months, sir, I believe.’
‘And poor little Private Goom?’
‘A girl, sir. And Igor is really an Igorina. And wherever she is, Carborundum is really Jade. We’re not sure about Corporal Maladict. But the rest of us definitely have pink blankets, sir.’
‘But you didn’t act like women!’
‘No, sir. We acted like men, sir. Sorry, sir. We just wanted to find our men or get away or prove a point or something. Sorry it had to happen to you, sir.’
‘You’re sure about all this, are you?’
What are you expecting me to say? Polly thought. ‘Whoops, now I come to think about it, yes, we’re really^men after all’? She settled for saying: ‘Yes, sir.’
‘So . . . you’re not called Oliver, then?’ It seemed to Polly that the lieutenant was having a lot of difficulty with all this; he kept asking the same basic question in different ways, in the hope of getting something other than the answer he didn’t want to hear.
‘No, sir. I’m Polly, sir—’
‘Oh? Do you know there is a song about—’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Polly firmly. ‘Believe me, I’d rather you didn’t even hum it.’
Blouse stared at the far wall, eyes slightly unfocused. Oh dear, Polly thought. ‘You took a terrible risk,’ he said distantly. ‘A battlefield is no place for women.’
‘This war isn’t staying on battlefields. At a time like this, a pair of trousers is a girl’s best friend, sir.’
Blouse fell silent again. Suddenly, Polly felt very sorry for him. He was a bit of a fool, in that special way very clever people have of being foolish, but he wasn’t a bad man. He’d been decent to the squad and he’d cared about them. He didn’t deserve this.
‘Sorry you had to be involved, sir,’ she said.
Blouse looked up. ‘Sorry?’ he said, and to her amazement he was looking more cheerful than he had all day. ‘Good heavens, you don’t have to be sorry. Do you know anything about history, Polly?’
‘Can we stick with Perks, sir? I’m still a soldier. No, I don’t know much history, sir. At least, much that I trust.’
‘Then you’ve never heard of the Amazon warriors of Samothrip? The most fearsome fighting force for hundreds of years. All women! Absolutely merciless in battle! They were deadly with the longbow, although in order to get maximum draw they had to cut off one of their, um . . . er . . . I say, you ladies haven’t been cutting off your, um, er . . .’
‘No, we haven’t cut off any um ers, sir. Only hair.’
Blouse looked incredibly relieved. ‘Well, and then there’s the female bodyguards of King Samuel in Howandaland. All seven feet tall, I understand, and deadly with the spear. Throughout Klatch, of course, there are many stories of female warriors, often fighting alongside their men. Fearsome and fearless, I believe. Men would desert rather than face females, Perks. Couldn’t deal with ‘em.’
Once again, Polly felt the slightly unbalanced feeling of having tried to jump a hurdle that turned out not to be there. She took refuge in: ‘What do you think’s going to happen now, sir?’
‘I haven’t a clue, Perks. Um . . . what’s wrong with young Goom? Some kind of religious mania?’
‘Could be, sir,’ said Polly guardedly. ‘The Duchess talks to her.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Blouse. ‘She—’
The door opened. A dozen soldiers filed in and spread out on either side. They had a variety of uniforms – mostly Zlobenian, but several Polly recognized now as Ankh-Morporkic or whatever they called it. They were all armed, and held their weapons like men who expected to use them.
When they had lined up and were glaring at the squad, a smaller group of men stepped in. Again, there was a variety of uniforms, but they were a lot more expensive. These were worn by officers – high-ranking ones, to judge by the expressions of disdain. The tallest of them, made taller by his high, plumed cavalry helmet, stared along his nose at the women. He had pale blue eyes, and his face suggested that he did not really want to see anything at all in this room unless it had been thoroughly cleaned first.
‘Who is the officer here?’ he said. He sounded like a lawyer.
Blouse stood up and saluted. ‘Lieutenant Blouse, sir, Tenth Infantry.’
‘I see.’ The man looked at his fellow officers. ‘I believe we can dispense with the guard now, don’t you? This matter should be handled quietly. And for heaven’s sake can’t we find this man a pair of trousers?’
There were a few murmurs. The man nodded to the sergeant of the guard. The armed men filed out, and the door shut behind them.
‘My name is Lord Rust,’ said the man.