Hervey shook his head in disbelief.
'Matthew, you of all people must know the calls of duty.'
He was about to say 'yes, but duty of substance' when he thought better of it. Perhaps it was expedient to leave the matter, for the moment. It was early, they had not breakfasted, and he had interrupted her practice.
V
A HUNT Hounslow, afternoon, the same day
Hervey gathered up the reins as the commanding officer came on parade. He turned in the little finger of his right hand as far as he could and saluted, hoping that Lord Holderness would not notice that the seam of his glove had unaccountably split. In the scheme of things it was not perhaps of the greatest moment: a broken stitch even on a piece of saddlery was not unknown, but it suggested less than the sharpest eye for maintenance. And Hervey knew his eye had been elsewhere than on such things these past weeks (neither had Johnson been given opportunity for the usual making and mending). But if Lord Holderness noticed, he did not show it. He returned the salute cheerily, without greeting (they had taken lunch together in the mess), and Hervey closed to his side, his borrowed mare whickering her own salutation to the colonel's charger.
It was an unexpected as well as a pleasant diversion. He had gone to Hounslow in the morning to place the details of Caithlin Armstrong's funeral in the hands of the adjutant, and Lord Holderness had asked him to ride out with him in the afternoon. 'I hope you will both be able to dine with us at Heston before you sail,' he said as they passed the sentries presenting arms at the barrack gates (he and Lady Holderness had taken the lease on Heston House, a mile or so away).
'A pleasure, Colonel,' replied Hervey, adding with something of a smile, 'though persuading Kezia to leave her pianoforte is not easy at present. She has several benefit concerts.' He could not help thinking how eagerly Kat would have accepted.
Lord Holderness nodded, and smiled indulgently. 'A prodigious talent, I understand.'
They rode on in silence, accompanied by a trumpeter, an orderly and the picket officer, who had all reined in, respectfully, to allow the colonel and the senior major to converse in private.
The sun shone, but it was not too hot a day. Blackbirds were still singing – mellow, fluting song despite the hour; swifts in great numbers screamed this way and that; and, high above, a red kite circled effortlessly. Hervey watched as suddenly a crow flew up at it. A nest to guard, perhaps? But he had only ever observed a kite pick at carrion; he did not think it hunted like the hawk or the buzzard. Did the crow not know one bird from another? Or did it suppose that the kite might forget itself? He recalled the service of the vultures at the Cape, how Fairbrother had detected the movement of the Zulu by observing their flight. How he missed Fairbrother's easy company now. He wondered how he was enjoying Devon, and the relicts of his family there.
Lord Holderness shifted his left leg forward and began tightening the girth on his hunting saddle. 'Now, we have made no mention of it – the Eighty-first. What is your inclination?'
Hervey tried to keep one eye on the kite, which evaded its impertinent assailant by leisurely flexions of its deep-forked tail. He had, of course, intended telling Lord Holderness of the offer of the Eighty-first, this afternoon possibly, for he had not supposed he knew of it.
Lord Holderness sensed his discomfiture. 'I should add that I believe I alone know of it in the regiment. It was given to me upon most particular honour.'
'Of course, Colonel. Thank you.'
Lord Holderness had, in fact, made personal representation to the commander-in-chief, further to a letter he had sent to the general officer commanding the London District after the manoeuvres at Windsor. But he would never speak of it. If Hervey were promoted, he did not wish it to be thought of as being other than through merit recognized in the usual way. 'You will, I imagine, be disappointed that it is a regiment of Foot.'
Hervey held up his reins, as if to say 'see what my hands are accustomed to', and smiled.
Lord Holderness acknowledged with a sigh. 'A perfectly ridiculous supposition that it could be otherwise,' he added, his smile the equal of Hervey's.
'In truth, Colonel, I don't know what to think. I have not had opportunity to tell you, either, that last night Lord Hill asked if I would go to the Russians for a few months, when Lord Bingham returns.'
'Did he? By then, of course, I should be quite used to having no major!'
Now Hervey sighed. 'I know, Colonel. It is most unsatisfactory. I must declare my intentions soon, for all our sakes.'
'Oh, worry not on my account, Hervey. Malet's a good adjutant.'
Hervey nodded. 'But all the same . . .'
They came to the London Road. Ordinarily there was no check to their crossing, but this afternoon they had to take a good hold.
' 'Pon my word, what a sight!'
Beyond the hawthorn hedge, on the high road, 'Salmanazar's Travelling Menagerie' (according to the emblazon on the side of the caravan) was making its way east, waggon after waggon, a vast train, like the baggage of the army in Spain, but tarpaulin-covered. Except the waggon next in line, whose occupant could not so easily be roofed over.
'A cameleopard, no less!' exclaimed Lord Holderness, as delighted as a child. 'You might think yourself back at the Cape already, eh, Hervey?'
Hervey was just as astonished. In fact he had not seen the beast, live, before. 'Extraordinary. I recall a speculation as to whether its neck was elongated so that it could eat the leaves at the top of the tree, or whether it ate the leaves thus because its neck was long.'
'Now that is a question of the deepest natural philosophy!' agreed Lord Holderness.
His horse now began running back, which only a deal of urging could check. 'Good God, man, it is but an elephant!'
An elderly Indian bull tramped along behind a haywain, the tip of his trunk curled round the mahout's wrist, walking beside him like a led child.
Hervey's mare, backing and snorting likewise, tried to take the bit, but the picket officer, whose charger was perfectly composed, grabbed her bridle and gave a settling lead.
'Well done, Hawkes,' said Hervey, when he had managed to get his temporary charger back in hand. 'Quite like first parade in Bengal.'
'I was thinking more of Trebia – Hannibal's surprise of the Romans,' said Lord Holderness, whose gelding was now settled. He gazed intently at the lone terrifier of cavalry. 'Livy brought quite to life!'
'Just so,' replied Hervey, his poise recovered.
'I never saw an elephant before, except by the taxidermist's art.'
But before Hervey could make reply, there was a loud splintering, the breaking of an axle on the next but one waggon.
The front offside wheel disintegrated before their eyes, canting the load and driving the pole into the quarters of the nearer of the team. The horse, already frighted by the noise of the shattering axle, began to rear, rocking the high-sided waggon so violently that it turned over in the road. The terrified team broke loose, and bolted.
The tarpaulin fell away, revealing a cage and its content.
''Pon my word,' exclaimed Lord Holderness again, thoroughly enjoying the impromptu carnival of animals. 'I declare that we might indeed be at the Cape!'
'Just so, Colonel,' replied Hervey, taking a firm grip of the reins once more. 'Though I confess I never saw its like there either.'
But the cage was no longer fast. The locking pin had sheared, and the door fell open noisily on the road. The occupant, a big, maned lion, half dazed, stepped from his confinement, turned to look at the debris of his transport, and snarled.
No one in the commanding officer's party moved. The horses were turned to stone.
'The picket, Colonel?' suggested Hervey.
'Better had.'
'Have the picket turn out under arms,' said Hervey to Cornet Hawkes. 'And move away slowly. Don't alarm the beast.'
'Sir!'
Hawkes did as he was told. The lion showed no interest.
'A magnificent thing, don't you t
hink?' Lord Holderness was contemplating the scene as if he were watching hounds at a covert.
'Indeed, Colonel – magnificent,' replied Hervey, wondering what they might do if the object of their admiration rushed them.
Did lions rush in so? Did they pounce? He was sure they did. He had seen pictures.
Where were the keepers? He looked about. Those not occupied with their own charges had taken high refuge. The lion was free to make good its escape.
He wondered if they should try to arrest it, but how? The picket would show in five minutes, and with carbines. If it became necessary, the animal could be subdued by bullets. Could they not corral it somehow, tempt it back into its cage with meat or some such?
The lion sniffed the air and looked about once more, seeming to study the commanding officer's party. Then, as if with disdain, it began walking away in the direction of the drilling ground.
'A cool customer,' said Lord Holderness, looking to right and left for some sign of address in the keepers, but seeing none. 'I think we had better go after him, if only to observe what Prall makes of it when the beast comes on his troop!'
F Troop's new captain, recently bought in from the Tenth, was having his dragoons out for the first time on the drilling ground, and Lord Holderness had wished to show his interest, for the troop had not been out in some months, having been doing duties in penny-packets here and there, and the officers largely absent on leave.
Hervey was much taken by Lord Holderness's coolness, not to say amusement at the thought of F Troop's new captain being put to such a test. But he had no reason to suppose the owner of the menagerie kept the lion on short rations; and in any case, had he not read that it was the lioness which hunted, not the male? Deprived of the female's efforts in his favour, however, the male did not simply lie down and starve? Had he not seen somewhere the picture of several males – or lions with manes (perhaps some females were maned?) – leaping onto some other beast to drag it down?
The drilling ground, a mile or so square of heath, lay just the other side of the London Road, masked by a line of elms in full leaf.
As they closed with them, Hervey became anxious: might the lion have taken post in the branches, waiting his moment to pounce? He knew that leopards did – he had seen it for himself in India – and tigers too. 'Have a care, Colonel,' he said, searching the nearest trees as best the leaves allowed him.
'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.
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