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.
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.
'It will! Just don't alarum 'im. He's a good old soul.'
Hervey looked at Lord Holderness. 'Colonel?'
'Let him be. Let him walk him back to the road. The picket can follow. Such a magnificent creature. I never thought I should come as close to the king of beasts!' He looked at the blood on his sword with evident dismay.
Hervey, bemused, turned to the savaged keeper. The man was already sitting up, dragoons showing him consideration. His shoulder was badly torn, but he would live – as would the lion. 'Shall we leave the picket officer to carry on, Colonel?' (there was only so much a senior officer should do).
Lord Holderness appeared reluctant . . . 'Yes, Hervey, I think we might go and tell Captain Prall he may stand down his troop.'
Hervey was relieved. Care of Lord Holderness was becoming an altogether hair-raising business.
When they were done with F Troop, Hervey and the commanding officer turned for the barracks. 'Come then, Hervey; we can resume our conversation,' said Lord Holderness cheerily, as if nothing of any moment had occurred. 'I would have your opinion on this Russian business. The talk at White's is that we shall be drawn in.'
Only the trumpeter accompanied them now as they gave the menagerie a wide berth, and Hervey felt himself free to speak. 'I think that had Lord Palmerston been in the cabinet still, we would be at the Russians' side, think you not, Colonel? But after Navarino, the duke will surely have no truck with interference? He's recalled the troops from Portugal quickly enough.'
'That much is true, certainly, but I wonder how free a hand the duke might have. This treaty over the Greeks is still a deuced entangling thing.'
Hervey nodded. And the irony was that the Duke of Wellington had been in no little measure responsible for it, for Mr Canning had sent him to Russia two years before, and out of that visit had come the treaty with the Tsar and with France for the expulsion of the Turks from Greece (during the course of which, at Navarino, Peto had been so grievously wounded). 'I wonder that we appear to know so little of what Austria may think?'
