‘Well, then, problem solved. These young ladies helped him. Smuggled him in, and so forth. Assisted him. Fine traditions of Borogravian womanhood and all that. Not soldiers at all. Give the man a big medal and make him a captain, and all this’ll be forgotten.’
‘Excuse me one moment, general,’ said Clogston. ‘I will consult with what we would call the accused if anyone would enlighten me as to the precise nature of the charges.’
He walked over to the squad and lowered his voice. ‘I think this is the best offer you’re going to get,’ he said. ‘I can probably get the money, too. How about it?’
‘It’s completely ridiculous!’ said Blouse. ‘They showed tremendous courage and determination. All this would not have been possible without them.’
‘Yes, Blouse, and you would be allowed to say that,’ said Clogston. ‘Stoffer has come up with quite a clever idea. Everyone gets what they want, but you just have to avoid any suggestion that you were in fact acting as soldiers. Brave Borogravian women going to the aid of a gallant hero, that works. You could take the view that these are changing times, and you are helping them change faster. Well?’
The squad exchanged glances.
‘Er . . . I’d be happy about that,’ Shufti ventured. ‘If everyone else is.’
‘So you’d have your baby without a husband?’ said Polly.
‘He’s probably dead anyway, whoever he was,’ sighed Shufti.
‘The general has influence,’ said Clogston. ‘He might be able to—’
‘No, I’m not buying into this,’ said Tonker. ‘It’s a gooey little lie. To hell with them.’
‘Lofty?’ said Polly.
Lofty struck a match, and stared at it. She could find matches anywhere.
There was another crump, high above.
‘Maladict?’ said Polly.
‘Llet tthe bball rroll. II ssay nno.’
‘And you, lieutenant?’ Clogston asked.
‘It’s dishonourable,’ said Blouse.
‘Could be problems for you if you don’t accept, though. With your career.’
‘I suspect I haven’t got one, major, whatever happens. No, I will not live a lie. I know, now, that I’m not a hero. I’m just someone who wanted to be one.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Polly. ‘Er . . . Jade?’
‘One of der trolls what arrested me-hit me with his club an’ I frew a table at him,’ said Jade, looking at the floor.
‘That was mistreatment of a pris—’ Blouse began, but Clogston said: ‘No, lieutenant, I know something about trolls. They are very . . . physical. So . . . he’s a rather attractive lad, is he, private?’
‘I got a good feelin’ about him,’ said Jade, blushing. ‘So I don’t want to be sent home. Nothin’ for me there, anyway.’
‘Private Igor . . . ina?’ said Blouse.
‘I think we ought to give in,’ said Igorina.
‘Why?’ said Polly.
‘Because Wazzer’s dying.’ She raised a hand. ‘No, please don’t cluster round. Give her air, at least. She hasn’t eaten. I can’t get any water down her at all.’ She looked up with red-rimmed eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do!’
‘The Duchess talked to her,’ said Polly. ‘You all heard. And you know what we saw down in the crypt.’
‘And I said I don’t believe any of that!’ said Tonker. ‘It’s her . . . mind. They made her crazy enough. And we were all so tired, we’d see anything. All that stuff about wanting to get to the High Command? Well, here they are, and I don’t see any miracles. Do you?’
‘I don’t think she would have wanted us to give in,’ said Polly.
No.
‘Did you hear that?’ said Polly, although she wasn’t certain that the word had turned up in her head via her ears.
‘No, I didn’t!’ said Tonker. ‘I didn’t hear it!’
‘I don’t think we can accept this compromise, sir,’ said Polly to the major.
‘Then I won’t,’ said Shufti promptly. ‘I don’t . . . this wasn’t . . . I only came because . . . but . . . look, I’m staying with you. Erm . . . what can they do to us, sir?’
‘Put you in a cell for a long time, probably,’ said the major. ‘They’re being kind to you—’
‘Kind?’ said Polly.
‘Well, they think they’re being kind,’ said Clogston. ‘And they could be a lot worse. And there’s a war on. They don’t want to look bad, but Froc didn’t get to be a general by being nice. I have to warn you about that. You’re still turning this down?’
Blouse looked round at his men. ‘I believe we are, major.’
‘Good,’ said Clogston, winking.
Good.
Clogston went back to his table and shuffled his papers. ‘The allegedly accused, sir, regretfully turn down the offer.’
‘Yes, I thought they might,’ said Froc. ‘In that case, they are to be returned to the cells. They will be dealt with later.’ Plaster showered down as something hit the outer wall again. ‘This has gone quite far enough!’
‘We won’t be sent to the cells!’ Tonker shouted.
‘Then that is mutiny, sir!’ said Froc. ‘And we know how to deal with that!’
‘Excuse me, general, does that then mean the tribunal does agree that these ladies are soldiers?’ said Clogston.
General Froc glared at him. ‘Don’t you try to tie me up with procedural nonsense, major!’
‘It’s hardly nonsense, sir, it’s the very basis—’
Duck.
The word was the faintest, merest suggestion in Polly’s head, but it also seemed to be wired to her central nervous system. And not only hers. The squad ducked, Igorina throwing herself across her patient’s body.
Half the ceiling collapsed. The chandelier fell down and exploded in a kaleidoscope of splintering prisms. Mirrors shattered. And then there was, by comparison at least, silence, broken only by the thud of a few late bits of plaster and the tinkle of a tardy shard.
Now. . .
Footsteps approached the big doors at the end of the room, where the guards were just struggling to their feet. The doors swung open.
Jackrum stood there, shining like the sunset. The light glinted off his shako badge, polished to the point where it would blind the incautious with its terrible gleam. His face was red, but his jacket was redder, and his sergeant’s sash was the pure quill of redness, its very essence, the red of dying stars and dying soldiers. Blood dripped off the cutlasses thrust into his belt. The guards, still shaking, tried to lower their pikes to bar his way.
‘Do not try it, lads, I beg you,’ said Jackrum. ‘Upon my oath I am not a violent man, but do you think Sergeant Jackrum is going to be stopped by a set of bleedin’ cutlery?’
The men looked at Jackrum, steaming with barely controlled rage, and then at the astonished generals, and took an immediate decision on their own desperate initiative.
‘Good lads,’ said Jackrum. ‘With your permission, General Froc?’
He did not wait for a reply but marched forward with parade-ground precision. He came to boot-crashing attention in front of the senior generals, still brushing plaster dust from their uniforms, and saluted with the precision of a semaphore.
‘I beg to report, sir, that we now hold the main gates, sir! Took the liberty of putting together a force of the Ins-and-Outs, the Side-to-Sides and the Backwards-and-Forwards, sir, just in case, saw a big cloud o’ flame and smoke over the place, and arrived at the gates just as your lads did. Got ‘em coming and going, sir!’
There was a general cheer, and General Kzupi leaned towards Froc. ‘In view of this pleasing development, sir, perhaps we should hurry up and close this—’
Froc waved him into silence. ‘Jackrum, you old rogue,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I heard you were dead. How the devil are you?’
‘Fightin’ fit, sir!’ barked Jackrum. ‘Not dead at all, despite the hopes of many!’
‘Glad to hear it, man. But, while your rosy face is a welcome sight at any time, we are here to—’
‘Fourteen miles I carried you, sir!’ Jackrum roared, sweat pouring down his face. ‘Pulled that arrow out of your leg, sir. Sliced that devil of a captain who pushed an axe in your face, sir, and I’m glad to see the scar’s looking well. Killed that poor sentry lad just to steal his water bottle for you, sir. Looked into his dyin’ face, sir, for you. Never asked for nothing in return, sir. Right, sir?’
Froc rubbed his chin and smiled. ‘Well, I seem to remember there was that little matter of fudging some details, changing a few dates—’ he murmured.
‘Don’t give me that bleedin’ slop, sir, with respect. That wasn’t for me, that was for the army. For the Duchess, sir. And, yeah, I see a few other gentlemen round this table who had reason to do the same little service for me. For the Duchess, sir. And if you was to leave me one sword I’d stand and fight any man in your army, sir, be he never so young and full of mustard!’