Warrior

'And to which of the two appropriate virtues shall you have recourse: prudence or justice?'

'Prudence.'

'The only one for which experience is required.'

'Just so.'

'And Brereton will therefore be placed in the pantheon of regimental heroes.'

'I see no offence against God or man in that.'

'No. Nor do I.'

'I must see to it, though, that Fairbrother has his laurels – and Collins too. It does not bear thinking how events might have been without their admirable address.'

'Admirable, admirable.' Somervile took his chair once more. 'And, I might add, you have made a very great ally in Colonel Smith. His despatch – if mine does not – makes clear your own peerless service.'

Hervey nodded, obliged.

Somervile heaved a considerable sigh. 'And so, you will take Friday's packet and be in London in a month. And I, meanwhile, shall await the new governor . . . and my fate.'

Hervey rose, and began making to leave, glad at least that he would be going to meet his fate, as a soldier ought, rather than awaiting it as his poor old friend must.

As he rose, he remembered the letter from Kezia, in his pocket; it had come that morning by one of the Indiamen, much delayed, and he had still not opened it. 'Well, we all dine together tonight, do we not? That is no occasion for low spirits. I shall take my leave until then.' He held up the letter. 'Matters to be addressed . . . Canada, and all.'

An hour or so later he had attended to his most pressing correspondence. He picked up the sheets of paper and began reading them over. His account of events in Natal was – even he recognized – flat in the extreme, but he had no wish to trouble Kezia with details in which she would scarce be interested, and he certainly would give no account which included the sanguinary particulars. All of it she would be able to read, no doubt, in the pages of The Times, if she wished, for the official despatches now seemed to find their way into print with alarming speed.

He lingered over the final page, wondering about both its contents and manner of expression:

And now, my dearest wife, I return to the subject of the lieutenantcolonelcy of the 81st. Events here, of which I have only been able to give but a very incomplete account, have led me to the settled conclusion that I must take the commission. In doing so I know it to be contrary to your wish, and that you have every good reason to set your face against it, Canada being a place of some primitive society yet, and I therefore can neither insist upon your accompanying me nor even hope for a change of heart, for I see that such would be unconducive to your music and therefore to your happiness. I shall therefore bear the deprivation for as long as needs be, in the sure hope that it will not be excessively long, and that we shall soon be reunited in a station more agreeable to you.

He laid down the sheet, and groaned. What other way might he express himself? He rose, and paced about the room. Ought he perhaps not to write at all? Should he wait until he was back in London to explain? But the sloop-of-war left on tomorrow's tide, and would likely make the passage a week and more faster than would his packet. There was no excuse not to take the opportunity to write, and if he were to write, there was no excuse not to disclose his settled resolve. Besides, there were letters for Georgiana and his family, and others (one, even, for Kat); it was insupportable that there should not be one for his wife too.

He sat down at his writing table once more, scratched a few signatory lines, and placed down the sheet to dry. He would now change into undress uniform and go to the hospital to see how were his sick dragoons (he still thought of them as his, even though he would soon be taking off his blue coat for good). Some had been most grievously sick by the time they had made it back to Port Natal.

Fairbrother, dressed for dinner in plain clothes, had arrived ahead of his time at the castle, hoping to be able to read some of the commercial intelligence which he supposed the newly arrived Indiaman had brought. He sat comfortably at ease in a small ante-room perusing the shipping news in Lloyd's List, enjoying a cigar and a large measure of whiskey and soda.

The door opened. 'Captain Fairbrother, sahib, there is an officer come from England who claims an acquaintance, sahib.'

Fairbrother turned his head languidly. 'Upon my word, Howard!' He rose and held out a hand, which he preferred to bowing.

Lord John Howard took it, smiling broadly. 'My dear fellow, how very good it is to see you!'

'What brings you here?' asked Fairbrother, not able at all to conceal his astonishment, for Hervey had said many times that Howard was tethered by chain to the Horse Guards.

'Exactly speaking, the Empire, an Indiaman. We came in this afternoon. My business . . . well, I have news for our mutual friend that I would tell him myself. And I wished to take leave of the Horse Guards for a few months and see a little something of where we fling far our gallant troops. I hoped, indeed, to ride with you both on one of your frontier sojourns!'

Fairbrother smiled ruefully. 'I think I may say – I speak for myself, of course – that the frontier holds no immediate call upon our time.'

Lord John Howard looked both disappointed and puzzled.

Jaswant returned with a tray.

'Take a little whiskey and sit you down, and I'll explain myself better.'

Howard took a great deal of whiskey and a very little soda, and settled comfortably into a low chair.

'But first tell me, if you would, what is this news of Hervey's that tempts you from the drawing rooms of London?' Fairbrother took a long draw on his cigar, hardly supposing that Howard would oblige him with an answer, for all the whiskey-generosity.