A Call to Arms

‘Oh, well, yes. But not drums as I supposed you meant them.’

‘And I thought the bugle was what the infantry played?’ added Mrs Hervey.

‘No, the cavalry too, for mounted calls. It is pitched an octave higher than the trumpet, so the call carries further.’

‘We did go to the opera, Mr Keble,’ Elizabeth assured him. ‘In Rome. And Matthew sniggered the while!’

Hervey looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, it was a very singular business. And I was not the first to laugh.’

‘How so?’ asked his father.

Hervey looked at his sister and raised his eyebrows as if censuring her for what would be revealed. ‘It was an opera by an Italian called Rossini: he is very famous there. And he himself directed it from the piano. He came into the orchestra wearing the strangest coat the colour of cream, and it caused great hilarity. Then after the overture — which was, I must say, very lively — a tenor came on stage with a guitar to serenade his love, and all the strings broke at the first chord. The audience hooted with laughter, and very many of them clericals.’

‘I might have done the same,’ said Canon Hervey.

‘And I, too, Archdeacon,’ added Mr Keble supportively. Elizabeth frowned at them both.

Her brother, emboldened, warmed to his story. ‘Soon afterwards the same happened to someone with a mandolin, and then there came someone else who fell straightway onto his nose and there was blood all over his robe. The hooting and catcalls were so bad that Signor Rossini fled the orchestra and the whole thing was abandoned. We had our money back and went to a firework display instead.’

‘Which Matthew liked because it looked as though the castle there was under siege. I tell you, Papa, he has no appreciation of anything but the sound of the trumpet and the thunder of the captains!’

‘And the shouting?’ added John Keble.

‘Oh, I should imagine especially the shouting, Mr Keble!’

After dinner Hervey and Keble walked together in the garden. There was a full moon, and it was warm. ‘Not unlike an evening in India, I should suppose,’ said Keble, looking up at the sky. ‘And the stars will be the same in those latitudes, no doubt.’

‘Yes, I believe you are right. Though I shall be further north this time, in Hindoostan.’

‘And Georgiana: she will remain here, with your sister?’

Hervey did not reply at once. There were so many things he might say to qualify the simple ‘yes’. ‘I confess it will be harder than I ever supposed. She is no longer a mere babe in arms.’

‘She will have a Christian upbringing. That is more than most, I fear.’

‘I’ve settled all Henrietta’s property in trust to her. I was intending to ask if you might consent to be a trustee.’

‘I am honoured.’

‘It would mean your going to the attorney’s in Warminster tomorrow.’

‘I see no objection in that.’

‘You are very good. And to my father too. He prizes your counsel highly, you know.’

‘Hervey, your father has nigh on forty years’ cure of souls, and I scarcely a tenth of that. My counsel, as you put it, can in his respect only ever be from a standpoint of theory.’

‘Well, without experience, theory is the only resort.’

‘That seems a good military precept. Will you write to me from India? Does the regiment take a chaplain there? I fear I do not know who is to be this new bishop in Calcutta.’

‘I shall indeed write. I don’t know whether we take a chaplain, nor even whether it is a good or a bad thing; their quality is little admired. We have spoken of this before, you and I.’

John Keble stopped and turned full towards him. ‘You must be steadfast in your daily prayers, my good friend. Now of all times. I do not ask if you are.’

Hervey sighed to himself. It was just as well that Keble did not.

CHAPTER NINE. THE RECRUITING PARTY

Hounslow, a month later

‘Well, Sar’nt-Major — we have a troop orderly room and an acquittance roll, and scarcely more than a quarter-guard’s-worth of names to enter on it.’

Troop Serjeant-Major Armstrong huffed. ‘Them bringers have been about as useful as a sewn-up arse! I’ve a mind to go down there meself.’

‘Twenty-two in all. Not bad-looking men on the whole. And six that can read and write. At least the bringers’ve not been sweeping the gutters.’

‘We might have to do that yet, sir,’ said Armstrong. ‘If we leave for India under strength it’ll be a year before the depot troop can send us the rest. I reckon we’d be broken up inside that time.’

‘I well know it, Sar’nt-Major. And I’m not sure I want every man that elects to stay from the regiment that’s leaving. Half a dozen, maybe, but more would be a veritable combination.’

‘They do say a married man in India’s a better soldier. But I’d take some convincing.’

Hervey allowed himself a smile. ‘I’d not trade you for a singleton, Sar’nt-Major.’

‘And in truth, sir, I wouldn’t ever want to be one — not even to be shaved in bed of a morning like them char-wallahs do.’

‘I thought char-wallahs brought them tea, don’t they?’

‘Probably that an’ all.’

‘A punkah-wallah cools them with a fan, as I remember …’

‘Well, if we don’t get active, sir, they’ll be fanning empty beds. I’d like to send Collins into London today. He’s a good eye.’

‘That I grant you, but London’s yielded up precious few to the regimental parties.’

‘We won’t get the best there, that’s for sure. But I don’t see as we’ve time to be traipsing round the county looking for likely men. And sure as hell we don’t want to take any as is paying with the drum.’

‘Well, at any rate, not any that have a large payment to make. The odd fellow who’s fallen foul of the bench of a Saturday night oughtn’t to be too much of a problem.’

Hervey knew that his serjeant-major was not wholly convinced of the corrective qualities of soldiering. Despite his rough and ready ways, his quick temper and his fondness for a drink, Armstrong held strongly to the notion that character would out as soon as the guns began to play. In the infantry this did not matter so much, for the bad characters were held in line by the NCOs close by them, and all the line had to do was wheel and form and deliver volley-fire on command. In the cavalry it was not so easy. A dragoon was much more upon his honour as regards his horse, doing outpost duty and going to it with the sword. A rough could be redeemed by military discipline, but a bad hat — never. And the trick was always to know which was the one and not the other.

Hervey observed closely as his serjeant-major took up the acquittance roll again and began examining the names. Armstrong’s new uniform fitted handsomely, showing off the barrel chest and powerful arms that had made him so formidable a fighter in a melee. The regiment would not have been the same without him. And how good did that fourth chevron look — at last.

‘Do you want to see those as came in yesterday, sir?’

Hervey did, so they walked to the pump in the yard outside E Troop’s empty stables, where dragoons were throwing buckets of water over half a dozen brought men. It would have been the same in the depths of winter, and the dragoons went at it with a will, since they had no wish to share the lice and other vermin which recruits brought with them.

‘Why ay,’ exclaimed Armstrong suddenly. ‘Corporal Mossop, fetch that red-’eaded man over here.’

Mossop half dragged the man in front of the serjeant-major; trying to march him over would have taken all