Hervey affected not to notice.
‘He is the most amusing boy,’ said Selden, ‘a Bengali I engaged in Calcutta when I came back here last year. A trustworthy bearer is a prize, Hervey.’
‘Indeed,’ replied the latter, taking another slice of pig. ‘You will recall that I found it thus with grooms. With me still is the very same dragoon from that last winter in Spain.’
Selden nodded approvingly. ‘Tell me of this battle —
Hervey recounted the tally of officers, and the men whom Selden might recall.
The veterinarian heard it in silence, here and there shaking his head at a name. But Joseph Edmonds’s brought more. ‘The major was a humane man. He treated me with not a little kindness.’
Hervey supposed he must be referring to events on campaign, and latterly to his manner of leaving the regiment in Cork. ‘I owe Major Edmonds everything, perhaps, too,’ he confided; ‘no man I ever met combined such zeal for perfection in his profession with such benevolence towards an individual.’
‘Indeed?’ smiled Selden with an irony that was lost on his visitor. He had always regarded Hervey as having excess of both.
By the time coffee was brought by the khansamah, Henry Locke had slid deep into his chair and a profound sleep. He made little noise, however (beyond the occasional snuffle), so that Hervey and Selden were able to continue without distraction. ‘Well,’ said the latter, with a sudden and curious insistence, ‘you have not spoken one word of your purpose in coming to India. I don’t suppose it was anything I said in Toulouse when I recommended this course to you? And I don’t suppose you have voluntarily quit your precious dragoons.’
Hervey smiled. ‘No, I have not left the regiment. I am with the Duke of Wellington’s staff. I am here to study the employment of the lance with a view to its being taken into service in our cavalry.’
Selden looked puzzled. ‘The duke’s staff, you say; in what capacity?’
‘I am aide-de-camp.’
He now looked positively wary. ‘So you are
‘Yes.’
‘Forgive me,’ he continued, his brow furrowed, ‘but when last we met you had not two sovereigns to spare, and there was some general or other after your hide. This is a remarkable change of fortune, is it not?’
Hervey smiled again. ‘I have been fortunate, yes. In the wake of the battle there were many positions to be filled.’
Selden looked sceptical. ‘Well, whatever your business in India,’ and he seemed not yet inclined to believe that it was entirely stated, though he would ordinarily have staked his last rupee on Hervey’s candour, ‘I am very glad to see you again. You will know of the circumstances of my leaving the Sixth in Cork. It’s better that we have it out.’
Hervey made some protest, not without embarrassment, but Selden bade him stop.
‘I freely admit that my tastes have been seduced by years in the tropics,’ he continued, ‘and it’s as well that I am returned here where they cause less offence — indeed, go entirely unremarked.’
‘And better for your health?’ asked Hervey, grasping the opportunity to change the subject.
‘That I do not know, but I don’t imagine that I should have enjoyed many winters living beneath a fountain — which is what it seemed to me that Cork was.’
‘How did you come to this employment?’
‘By letters of introduction from the Company in Calcutta. I had once been their buying agent there.’
‘And the rajah wished to have a veterinarian?’
‘Someone to buy horses —
It was now Hervey’s turn to look puzzled. ‘But if he is so afeard of the nizam, as I hear tell, why does he not conclude such a treaty with the Company?’
‘He values his own sovereignty, of course, and there is always a fear among the princes that a resident is but a covert viceroy. But principally he fears that the very act of approaching the Company would provoke the nizam into invading Chintal. And since we know that Haidarabad is presently at the mercy of the nizam’s lunatic sons, I shouldn’t wonder but that he is right.’
Hervey paused thoughtfully before making what seemed the obvious retort. ‘But the rajah could surely conclude his treaty in secret, and then it would be for the Company to protect Chintal.’
Selden smiled — laughed, almost. ‘My dear Hervey, you have a very great deal to learn about India. War is made here with bullocks, money and spies. The rajah would not even be able to
‘Surely if you know that, then—’
‘Hervey, it is better that we know who the spies are than that we dismiss them and begin again.’
‘Perhaps so,’ he conceded. And then he frowned, as if something troubled him. ‘Bullocks, money and spies, you say. What about guns?’
‘
They lit cigars, yet not even the smoke made Locke stir. ‘Not, I fancy, an officer of your fastidiousness,’ suggested Selden, contemplating his repose.
‘There are two suppositions in your saying so, and I am not inclined to remark on either,’ replied Hervey with a smile. ‘He is a most gallant and faithful officer.’
‘As you please,’ conceded Selden.
‘One more thing, however: what manner of forces does the rajah possess?’
‘About five thousand of infantry and two risallahs of cavalry — five hundred each.’
‘And guns?’
‘A few siege pieces hardly worth the name; and each risallah will have a brace of gallopers. The Company has always been anxious to see as few cannon as possible in native hands.’
‘I have heard that a galloper gun deployed with some address might have considerable effect here, though — the mutiny at Vellore? I was sorry on more than one occasion in Spain for their passing.’
‘Indeed,’ nodded Selden, ‘but the nizam has copious artillery, including a battery of siege pieces that seem able to go where even our own horse-gunners would have difficulty. They blew apart the rajah’s forts on the Godavari river a decade ago when he tried to levy tolls on Haidarabad trafficking. The nizam’s beautiful daughters, they are called.’
‘Yes, I had heard. I should very much like to make their acquaintance, but as a friend of course,’ laughed Hervey.
Selden frowned. ‘Hervey, as I remember, you once professed to having little facility with women — though I believed I had observed otherwise. Do not suppose that you will find any woman in India fathomable, not least one belonging to the nizam!’
Hervey blushed.
‘But why, in any case, should you be so interested in these details?’
There was nothing in Selden’s tone to cause him alarm, but he thought nevertheless to dismiss the matter with a certain lightness. ‘You once chided me, too, for being excessively interested in my profession — and that it would do me no good if I wished to be advanced!’
Selden smiled. ‘That I did! Though I did say, also, that the Honourable Company would take a different view of your aptness, did I not? I even urged — as I recall — that you throw in with the Company and see that aptness rewarded!’
Hervey was content that his diversion had worked, even if at some cost to his pride. Locke made a loud snorting sound, then whimpered, like an old dog dreaming of rabbit-chasing, and slid even further into his chair.
‘It is the custom of the Hindoo to take to his charpoy for an hour or so after such a meal,’ said Selden, looking with some amusement towards the lieutenant. ‘Your friend will be honoured by the khansamah and his staff for so doing. Do you wish to do likewise?’
‘Not especially,’ replied Hervey, looking about him; ‘I am not in the least tired and there is so much of interest