A Call to Arms

The four looked at each other. Jobie spoke for them. ‘If we enlist, sir, can we stay together?’

‘You will all serve in my troop,’ Hervey reassured them.

Serjeant Collins sealed the affair. ‘Bring the measuring stick, Prax. Let’s see if these likely-looking lads stand sixteen hands and a half.’

They all did, though Hervey could not suppose there was more than a leather’s thickness to spare with any of them. Not to worry; regular meat and riding school would do its work.

‘Here is a shilling each for you, then,’ declared Collins gravely. ‘The King’s shilling, that is. His token of trust in you. Come to The Bell at nine o’clock prompt tomorrow morning, and the magistrate will swear you in once the doctor has certified you fit for service.’

‘Jobie, Jobie!’ called the little girl from the other side of the street. ‘Mam says didn’t you get her gin?’

Jobie looked uncomfortable. ‘Can I go now, Serjeant?’

‘Ay, lad. Be there at nine sharp, though.’

‘Jobie, are you going for a soldier?’ asked the little girl as he took her hand.

Collins turned to Hervey. ‘Christ, sir. What do you do?’

‘I know, Serjeant Collins; I know. Try not to think about it, I suppose.’

*

The following day, a special edition of the Warminster Miscellany carried a further report of the disturbances in Manchester. The Herveys’ manservant brought it just before midday to the dining room at Horningsham, where Hervey and his father were sitting with the remains of a pot of coffee and a salted mutton ham.

‘PETERLOO’ CASUALTIES

We are informed by the Manchester Observer that the affair of the 16th Instant, dubbed ‘Peterloo’, has accounted for the deaths of sixteen persons, including a special constable, and Four Hundred injured, with no fewer than One Hundred and Fifty suffering from sabre cuts. It is further understood from the Officer Commanding all of the Troops that day, one Colonel L’Estrange, that Sixtyseven of his own men received slight wounds, while twenty cavalry horses have been hurt either by striking or by being stabbed.

His Royal Highness The Prince Regent has sent a letter of strong approval to the Magistrates for the firm way in which they dealt with the lawbreaking.

The archdeacon read the report again carefully. ‘I should say that, notwithstanding the title, the paper is indifferent in its tone. While the stabbing of the horses cannot be compared with the sabre cuts to the people, the two being juxtaposed in the report serves to ameliorate the shock that is felt. For it suggests a predisposition on behalf of some in the crowd to do mischief. I suppose the Prince Regent had to commend the poor magistrates, but I cannot help but feel it would have been the better to hold silence until the facts were established.’

‘I wish it made some distinction between the regulars and the yeomanry,’ said Hervey.

‘I am afraid that if you are at the receiving end of a sabre stroke it matters little whether it be regular or otherwise, though I agree it is dispiriting for those who are proficient in the business of soldiering.’

‘It’s the very devil of a business keeping a troop in hand in the face of a crowd. The horses sense their riders’ unease, I’m sure of it. I still hold a picture of poor Wymondham being thrown to his death in the street in London. Is there any more, Father?’

The archdeacon nodded. ‘There is. And it troubles me, I confess.’

SIX MEASURES TO BE ENACTED

We have it on the most reliable authority that Lord Sidmouth will announce in Parliament six measures to be enacted which shall permit of the most summary dealing with the Radical agitation which now disturbs the greater part of the Country. Assemblies of over fifty persons shall be prohibited. Magistrates are to have powers to search private dwelling houses for arms. Drilling and military training by civilians, except the Yeomanry and the Militia shall be strictly prohibited. The Laws against Blasphemous and Seditious Libel shall be strengthened. There shall be a limitation on the right of an accused to adjournment of trial to prepare his defence, and there shall be an increase in Stamp Duty on newspapers and pamphlets to Four Pence.

The archdeacon took off his spectacles and shook his head. ‘By any standard, taken as a whole these are repressive measures, though three are reasonable in themselves, I suppose.’

Hervey assented with a nod. ‘Daniel Coates told me that Lord Bath intends proposing a measure to form veterans’ battalions to act as police.’

‘Well, that has merit, for they would be men used to discipline,’ declared Canon Hervey, replacing his spectacles and taking up the newspaper again. ‘Ah,’ he said, after reading more. ‘Lord Bath is to embody the Warminster Troop.’

‘That won’t be greeted well in some parts, but it’s only prudent. The Hindon people are a combative bunch, by all accounts. I shall be happier leaving you knowing there are a few sabres about the place, even if they are yeomanry.’

Canon Hervey looked thoughtful. But he withheld any fears for the peace of the parish and his family’s safety. ‘We shall see you again before you embark, Matthew?’

‘You may depend upon it, Father.’ Then he frowned. ‘And it will be very much harder than ever before.’

Canon Hervey nodded, and rose. ‘And not only for you, Matthew. Will you come to evening prayer?’

Hervey stood, but his brow was still furrowed. ‘I beg you would excuse me this once, Father. There are things I ought to be about.’

*

Hervey sat for a half-hour, alone, when his father was gone. The house was silent but for the ticking of two clocks, and there was nothing but his thoughts to disturb him. Five years. The house would not change in that time. The garden, perhaps — a branch fallen here and there, plantings come to maturity. His parents? It were better not to imagine. Elizabeth? He became fearful. And Georgiana? He rose hesitantly, then hurried to the stables.

In a quarter of an hour he was at Longleat. He entered the house unannounced and went to the nursery. The door was open but, hearing the sounds within, he stood to one side to observe without being seen. Elizabeth sat with her face half-turned from the door, contented-looking, happy even. Georgiana shuffled towards her on a little wheeled horse, gripping its woollen mane, her nursemaid by her side ready to support with an outstretched hand. The child giggled when she reached Elizabeth, and threw her head back. Hervey swallowed hard. He had never imagined he might look on alone like this. Next time, when he returned from India, the horse would not have wheels. Georgiana might even be free of the leading rein. And he would have missed all of it. And he had not imagined, until now, what it was that he would miss.

CHAPTER ELEVEN. ROUGH-RIDERS

Hounslow, three weeks later

‘Keep them ’eels down!’ bellowed the rough-rider serjeant at the six recruits as they attempted to complete a circuit of the riding school without stirrups. ‘A sack of flour’d look better in yon saddles!’ The old commands, the old quips — Hervey smiled to himself as he left the school and walked to