Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears

by Allan Mallinson

  ‘Do you suppose it a faithful image? Could there be a serpent so big, I mean – not its three heads,’ she asked, sinking to the viewing bench as if quite overpowered by the monstrous bronze reptile.

  Hervey sat down next to her (it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do), and began contemplating the question – as well as the figure itself. The gigantic snake coiled round the trunk of a tree in the middle of the pool, its mouths wide, fangs and forked tongues challenging any who would come from under the bridge. It stood full eight feet, perhaps more – eight feet of venomous danger, if venomous it was; otherwise its coils were perfectly able to crush the life out of any who defied its challenge.

  ‘I cannot speak of sea serpents, madam,’ he replied, shaking his head, ‘but I never saw a python as big.’

  Nor, certainly, a cobra. He had been surprised when first he had seen a cobra, ten years ago at the Rajah of Chintal’s banquet, by how small it was in comparison with their reputation. But that had been the cobra di capello, the ‘thing of the bazaars’ the rajah had said, which rose from a basket to the charmer’s pipe and swayed from side to side inches from his face as if determining the best moment to strike. But its mouth was invariably sewn up, the raj kumari had told him. If he wanted to see the real cobra – the hamadryad, the king cobra – they must go into the forest, for the jungle was the hamadryad’s green fastness.

  And he had seen the hamadryad there. He had watched as the male had approached the female, had edged the length of her, inch by careful inch, as cautiously as may be, for at any moment she might turn on him, sink her fangs into him, shoot her venom deep in his vitals – and without warning. With the raj kumari he had watched their coiling, their writhing-mating. He had watched with a strange and increasing awareness of her at his side, and then there had been the beginnings of their own congress, the hamadryads potent and threatening only yards away, and the jungle all-concealing. There had been no consummation, however. The female hamadryad had taken sudden objection to the male’s advance, and with a terrible hissing and thrashing she had put an end to him – and to herself, for the male had struck back, too late for self-defence but not for retribution. And Hervey and the raj kumari, the trance violently broken, had sped from the trysting place believing themselves in mortal danger – and Hervey certain that his soul had been.

  ‘Major Hervey?’

  He woke. ‘I’m sorry, I…’

  ‘I asked if the python were a water snake.’

  ‘I … I think they may swim if needs be. I think all snakes may, though on this I am uncertain.’

  He observed her closely. There was nothing of the forest in Kezia Lankester. She was of an altogether purer fire, as beautiful as the raj kumari but in so different a way. She was a civilized, thinking woman. When the raj kumari thought – that is when she had not been acting wholly on impulse – it had been to calculate, and her calculating had been her ruin (and his, almost).

  ‘Lady Lankester, I … that is, would it be improper if I expressed to you my very great admiration, and…’

  Her expression remained impassive but benign.

  ‘And my wish that you would consider a proposal of marriage?’

  Kezia Lankester entirely kept her countenance. She said nothing for the moment, seeming instead to be reflecting on what she had heard, utterly composed still, as if it had been an invitation to some diversion or other.

  Hervey looked at her intently, trying not to reveal his mounting alarm. He had botched it; he felt sure.

  She caught her breath a little before answering (alarming him the more). ‘Major Hervey, I am most deeply obliged to you.’ A faint smile came to her lips, as though she were dismissing a child, kindly, for some amusing excess. ‘I can only suppose that you are moved by some sense of obligation, and it does not surprise me – and certainly does not dismay me – for in my short acquaintance with your regiment I have come to see its great virtue of constancy.’

  He made to speak, intending to reassure her that his proposal was in no sense prompted by any sense of obligation (at least not to her), but he hesitated, and she stayed him with the merest gesture of a hand.

  ‘Major Hervey, I assure you, I am by no means offended by these thoughts. On the contrary: they are very noble.’

  Again he would have spoken to this point had not she anticipated him once more and bid him wait.

  ‘I am flattered by your proposal. Such a one, to a widowed mother, might not be forthcoming again. Your prospects, on the other hand, are decidedly handsome.’

  ‘Lady Lankester—’

  ‘I have made myself plain, I trust.’

  On the contrary, Hervey was wholly uncertain. And he would know with what finality he was being rejected. He frowned slightly, inclining his head a fraction, but enough to persuade her that she must repeat what she had presumed to be plain speaking.

  ‘Major Hervey, I am honoured to accept your proposal.’

  Hervey’s mouth fell open. ‘I … I had not imagined …’ He took her hand. He bent forward to kiss her. Her lips were still parted slightly, and it was Hervey, not she, who ended the kiss.

  He caught a glimpse of Perdita eyeing him – coldly, he sensed. She would get used to it; she would have to. If Kezia Lankester could accept him – ‘the coldest woman’, poor Strickland had thought her; but the widow of Sir Ivo, a man he admired in highest degree – then so could an undersize greyhound from that fickle, fiery country!

  XI

  RECKONINGS

  Hounslow, 27 March

  The last Tuesday of each month was the quartermaster’s day for interior economy, as it was known in the Sixth, and so there was no general parade. Hervey had arrived back from Gloucestershire in the early hours; Emma had tried to persuade him to stay for another day and then drive back with them, but he had explained that there was Private Lightowler’s funeral to attend to as well as business with the Horse Guards, and promised instead to call on them in Bedford Square at the first opportunity. At eight o’clock he breakfasted quietly in the officers’ house, and at nine he stepped into regimental headquarters hoping not to hear too dispiriting a report of the weekend’s ‘crime’.

  ‘Good morning, Hervey,’ said Vanneck cheerily as the acting commanding officer passed through the adjutant’s office and into his own. ‘I trust that Gloucestershire was restorative?’

  Hervey could not suppress a smile of satisfaction. ‘Good morning, Vanneck. Yes, it was.’

  The adjutant followed him with a handful of letters.

  ‘And I may tell you that I have certain news.’

  Vanneck saw the distinctly pleased look, and was grateful for it. He had long been troubled by what he perceived as a lack of joy at the heart of his regimental hero.

  ‘Lady Lankester and I are to be married.’

  Vanneck smiled broadly, seeming not at all surprised, and held out his hand. ‘My dear Hervey, my hearty congratulations!’

  ‘I tell you of course, but I can tell no one else until her people know of it, which I shall have to address myself to soon.’

  ‘I had no idea that you and Lady Lankester were … on such terms. It seems rather remiss of me, your adjutant.’

  Hervey smiled again and shook his head. ‘Think nothing of it. Now, what deeds does the day quake to look upon?’

  Vanneck shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. Worsley and the sarn’t-major are both recovering well. Mr Hairsine believes he will return to duty next week. Lightowler’s funeral will be at eleven on Thursday; the coroner has issued the papers. Cornet Roffe delivered your letter to his father in Dartford – decent folk, said Roffe. He arranged for them to be present.’

  Hervey nodded approvingly.

  ‘There were the customary occurrences following pay parade on Saturday. There was no church on Sunday, as you know. The sick reports are usual enough – nothing of any moment in the horse lines. In all, a peaceful time.’ Vanneck raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice. ‘Save in one respect – Johnson.’ Hervey looked alarmed.


  ‘No, in Johnson’s own case I think all may be well. He’s been a dupe, and an entirely innocent one as far as I can see. If he turns King’s evidence then apparently there’ll be no further action. But I’m afraid that it looks as if Snagge’s the true criminal.’

  ‘Snagge?’

  Vanneck sighed. ‘I know. I could scarcely credit it. But I would ask that you wait for Armstrong to return from quartermaster’s, for he has the detail, and then you may best make whatever decision is necessary.’

  ‘Very well.’ Hervey thought for a moment. ‘There is no word from the District? About Waltham, I mean.’

  ‘Not other than a letter addressed personally to you.’

  Hervey nodded to the bundle of letters in Vanneck’s hand. ‘Those are all mine?’

  ‘They are. And two expresses. I would have sent them to Gloucestershire but they arrived only yesterday.’

  Vanneck placed the little pile on Hervey’s desk, and withdrew. ‘I’ll come as soon as Armstrong is returned. Shall I have someone bring coffee?’

  Hervey shook his head. ‘Just allow me half an hour with these.’

  He sat at his desk and began examining each of the half dozen hands. The expresses were unmistakable – his sister’s and his colonel’s. Elizabeth’s at once took priority.

  Horningsham,

  25th March

  My dearest brother,

  I scarce know how to begin. Captain Peto has made me an offer of marriage, and I am inclined by every instinct to accept! Papa believes it to be a very proper thing and I want therefore to have your blessing before I write back to Captain Peto to give my answer. Georgiana, who is very well, and our parents too, shall remain with me after I am married for as long as she is happy, which I am certain she must be, for although Norfolk is not Wiltshire it is agreeable country and she would be assured of proper company. As you must surely know, Captain Peto is given command of a first-rate in the Mediterranean, and I should so much like my letter to reach him before he leaves to join his ship. And so, dearest brother, if you can revive yourself after the shock of this joyous news, so wholly unexpected that it is, please hasten your reply, for I shall not feel free to give my consent until I receive it.

  Your ever affectionate sister,

  Elizabeth.

  Hervey laid down the letter, shaking his head and smiling. ‘And the old dog said not a word!’ He pulled the bell cord by the fireplace. And he shook his head and smiled again: command of a first-rate! What double fortune this news was! He looked through the other letters to see if there was one from his old friend, but he perfectly understood why there was not.

  A clerk appeared before Hervey could read over Elizabeth’s letter a second time.

  ‘Brayshaw, I shall want to send an express. In one hour.’

  ‘Sir.’ Brayshaw saluted, turned about smartly, and left to find an orderly to run to the post office.

  Hervey picked up the second express, and with so light a heart that he broke the seal without hesitating.

  My dear Hervey,

  I very much regret having to tell you that the Commander-in-Chief had already approved another for command – and had informed him of it – by the time I was able to see him. Well do I understand what a blow to you this will be, and for me it is only ameliorated by knowing who shall be the officer, Lord Holderness, whom I have known these many years past, as must you. It will be little consolation to you at this time to know you will serve with such a man, but I beg you would commit yourself to do so with all the zeal that has very properly brought you to your position today, trusting that these long years waiting shall in turn become past prelude.

  I am leaving for the north this day, else I should have conveyed this to you in person, and would beg that you call on me when I return next Saturday seven days.

  You have my greatest respects in this, as at all times,

  Believe me, &tc,

  Geo. Irvine.

  Hervey felt so acute a nausea that he thought he must get up at once and leave the headquarters. Why did events take turns so cruelly? His sister’s happiness – his old friend’s too – and then his own expectations so peremptorily dashed. But instead he sat, almost rooted, wanting something familiar to grasp at.

  ‘Hervey?’ Vanneck’s voice betrayed concern.

  Hervey looked at him blankly.

  ‘Are you quite well?’

  The acting commanding officer would have liked nothing more at that moment than to confide his abject disappointment; but it was unthinkable. ‘I am perfectly well, thank you. Does Sarn’t-major Armstrong come?’

  ‘He does.’

  ‘Then call him, if you will.’

  As Vanneck withdrew a second time, Hervey opened the letter from his superior headquarters.

  Head Quarters,

  London District

  26th March 1827

  Major M. P. Hervey

  Comndg 6th Lt Dgns,

  Hounslow

  Sir,

  I am directed to inform you that the General Officer Commanding the London District has read your dispatch concerning the incident at Waltham Abbey mills of the 20th instant with approbation. I am commanded to express once more the General’s approval of the conduct of the troops under your orders, and to assure you that the dispatch shall be forwarded to the Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s Land Forces forthwith. I am further commanded to inform you that the General directs that Regimental Serjeant-Major Hairsine’s name be brought to the immediate attention of the Commander-in-Chief for consideration of a commission.

  I am, sir, your obedient servant,

  James Fanshawe,

  Lieut colonel.

  As the adjutant, with the acting-RSM, came in, Hervey, blank-faced, handed the letter to him. ‘An ill wind indeed. Hairsine earns a commission a dozen times in India, and it takes the smell of powder in Hertfordshire to have it!’

  Vanneck raised his eyebrows as he read. ‘The work of cavalry is rarely observed?’

  It was the regiment’s constant lament. ‘Just so,’ replied Hervey, the nausea now suppressed by the sudden requirement for action. ‘I shall take the news to him myself. It may speed his recovery.’

  He knew he ought also to be taking considerable satisfaction in his own commendation by the GOC, and the implicit promise that more might follow. Hairsine’s reward was singular, but the praise heaped upon Hervey himself was, in truth, fulsome. To his certain experience, such praise was never so quick. He smelled fish.

  Vanneck looked up. ‘With your permission, I can publish this in tonight’s orders. I think it would be well received.’

  ‘I am sure of it,’ said Hervey, nodding. ‘Now, the Johnson business. Or should I be calling it the Snagge business?’

  ‘With permission, Sarn’t-major Armstrong might begin, sir?’

  ‘Very well.’ Hervey turned to the acting-RSM.

  It was not possible to see Armstrong standing there without a moment’s recollection of all that they had been through together, from the early days of subaltern officer and legionary corporal. It felt strange but also somehow fitting that at this time they held the regiment’s good name and efficiency in their hands.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re not going to like it, sir.’

  Hervey braced. ‘Johnson?’

  ‘Not Johnson, sir: he’s right enough, though he needs the fear of God putting in ‘im.’

  Hervey, relieved to hear the exculpation, narrowed his eyes. ‘Doubtless you will be able to do the Lord’s work, Sarn’t-major.’

  ‘Depend on it, sir.’

  ‘And the rest: do we have an outpost of the Seven Dials rookery here after all?’

  Armstrong glanced at the adjutant.

  ‘Go on, Sarn’t-major,’ said Vanneck.

  ‘I’m afraid the bad apple’s Captain Snagge, sir. It appears that he’s been fencing coral and the like, all smuggled in. And half a dozen helpers about the barracks an’ all.’

  Hervey’s brow furrowed as deep as Armstro
ng had ever seen it.

  ‘I’ve been talking to the Bow-street men, sir, and pretty frank they’ve been. Seems there’s some Italians in Stepney that deal in coral and olive oil and cheese and the like, and’ve been smuggling the coral past the Revenue inside butter and parmijan cheese.’

  Hervey looked askance. ‘I should hardly think it worth the effort.’

  ‘Not at all, sir: there’s a shilling an ounce duty on coral.’

  ‘And we are talking of a great deal of coral in a great deal of cheese?’ He was still sceptical.

  ‘The Revenue reckon they’ve lost three thousand pounds in duty.’

  Hervey raised his eyebrows. ‘And what exactly is the part played by Captain Snagge? And Johnson, for that matter.’

  ‘Captain Snagge bought butter and oil and cheese from them for the messes’ (Armstrong glanced at his notebook) ‘from a Signor Guecco and another called Mazzuichi, and this were delivered from the bonded warehouse with the coral inside. Captain Snagge then removed the coral, here in barracks, and passed it on to …’ (he consulted his notebook again) ‘a fencer called Cetti in Holborn. Johnson used to bring the butter and stuff here, sometimes in the back of the regimental coach when you went to London. He thought it was provisions for the officers’ mess, so was all right.’

  Hervey was puzzled. ‘But the regiment’s only been under my orders for a few months. We returned from Lisbon only in January. How could Johnson be so materially involved?’ (Snagge had exchanged from the previous regiment.)

  ‘First it was Major Strickland’s man who carried it, and then when you took command Captain Snagge told Johnson it was now part of his duty.’

  Hervey sighed. ‘And Johnson did not think to question it!’

  ‘In fairness, sir, Captain Snagge said it were just a duty that went with the job, just bringing rations for the officers.’