On His Majesty's Service

Hervey acknowledged, but not without concern. If the Vizier did withdraw, and overpower the token rearguards, then Roth’s movement would turn out to be a flank march to that of the Turks, and his situation would be perilous in the extreme. ‘What are the general-in-chief’s intentions then?’

‘To await the junction with General Roth’s corps,’ replied the aide-de-camp simply.

Hervey had learned all that he needed. It was time to take his leave.

He had some difficulty finding their billet – a confusion with one of the provost-marshal’s staff – but at half past one he stumbled blinking into what had been a sort of drapery. Fairbrother, Agar and Corporal Acton were fast asleep on the bare floor. Johnson was crouching in a corner lit by an oil lamp, blowing on the fire under a simmering camp kettle, smoke leaving more or less obligingly through a broken window.

‘I was getting a bit worried, sir,’ he said in a loud whisper, sounding decidedly relieved. ‘Them sentries are right jumpy. ’As tha ’ad anything to eat?’

Hervey shook his head. ‘Not hungry. Is that coffee?’

‘No – ’ot water, sir. I could mash-up some tea. It’d be quicker.’

‘And better for my constitution at this time, no doubt.’

‘Ah’ve got some eggs an’ all – ’ard-boiled, and some for breakfast.’

Hervey recognized that finding eggs was a considerable feat. The one disappointment that General Diebitsch could have admitted was that the country they had come through was more derelict than he’d expected, the villages deserted, with barely a sign for mile upon mile that the land had ever been cultivated. But he would wait until morning to enquire of the eggs’ provenance. ‘Just the one, then. Thank you. I’m obliged you’ve remained on watch.’

‘Ah told Brayshaw and Green to bed down. Corp’l Acton’ll relieve me in an hour.’

There was no reason to mount watch within their own quarters, except against ‘proggers’ (as Johnson had it), but Hervey supposed that at least it meant the fire would be lit at reveille. ‘There’s no early move tomorrow. It’s make and mend till the middle of the morning. Where are the horses?’

‘In wi’ them from t’headquarters, yonder.’ His thumb indicated somewhere close by. ‘Them Rousskis ’re good. They put a new shoe on Mr Agar’s in five minutes.’

Presently he handed him a canteen of sweetened tea.

Hervey took a good sip. ‘Where did you find milk?’

‘T’Rousskis killed a nanny-goat, an’ there were a bit, still, in ’er udder.’

‘Posthumous milk – I do believe it’s the first I’ve had.’

It wasn’t, but Johnson would not gainsay him, instead picking off a last bit of eggshell before handing over the meagre supper.

‘Thank you,’ said Hervey, suddenly feeling too tired to ask if by any chance there was a little salt. ‘Is that my bed?’ he asked, hopefully, nodding to a blanket the other side of the stone floor.

‘Ay, sir. There’s a bit o’ straw underneath, an’ a nice piece o’ silk I twisted into a pillow. This place were full o’ stuff when we came in, but t’Rousskis said they wanted it, an’ Cap’n Fairbrother said as not to stop them.’

‘Eminently sensible,’ replied Hervey, picturing with some dismay Johnson trying to defy a looting party.

It was colder than the night before, which they had passed in a tent at the roadside amid cherry and walnut trees (the dew had fallen like rain); but the single blanket would do. He would sleep again dressed – but tonight with the comfort of his boots off.

Johnson did not wake him until after seven (reveille was a quiet affair, no trumpets). An orderly had come soon after six and, with General Diebitsch’s compliments, asked that Hervey come to the headquarters at nine. Agar, just returned from stables, answered for him.

As ever, Johnson woke him with tea, sweetened and with milk judged to have another day’s life, just, and with the additional information that he was expected at headquarters and that there was a bowl of hot water ready for him to shave. ‘And there’s bacon ’n’ eggs.’

‘Where did you find bacon?’ asked Hervey, rising stiffly on an elbow to sip the tea, wondering how much sleep he had had, for it felt like very little.

‘It were ’idden in t’chimney. It’s all right though.’

‘I don’t doubt it. A good-sized flitch, was it?’

‘It’ll last us a few days.’

‘Then perhaps you might make up some sort of forage bag. I intend taking a ride.’

‘Right, sir. I’ll make some more ’avercakes an’ all.’

Hervey shaved quickly and then breakfasted at a table, which somehow had been spared the looting party, Fairbrother and Agar joining him for more coffee. He told them the headquarters news.

Fairbrother looked uncertain. ‘A good deal seems to rest on the word of the prisoners. What if they had indeed discovered our march and were making a sortie to test our strength?’

‘It’s not impossible. But Pahlen’s position at Madara serves as an impediment to movement from east or west.’

Fairbrother seemed content.

‘Might I go to Madara, sir?’ asked Agar. ‘There is a carving there of great antiquity I should like to see.’

‘A carving?’

‘Of a horseman spearing a lion.’

‘What is its significance, beyond the appeal of art?’

Agar looked puzzled. ‘Well … it is thought to be Thracian-Greek, some three centuries before Christ.’

‘And there are not many of these?’

Agar realized he had not described its singular dimensions and situation. ‘It is about twenty feet in height, carved high up in the side of a cliff.’

‘I see. I had imagined it to be yet another statue.’ (There had been many during their wanderings.) ‘By all means you may go. Corporal Acton shall accompany. Only return in good time – before last light.’

‘Thank you, sir. If I may I will start out at once.’

When he was gone, Fairbrother lit a cheroot and stretched out his legs, until his chair creaked ominously. ‘How many men did you say the Vizier has in all?’

‘The estimate is thirty thousand, and upwards of fifty guns.’

‘Mm. A very even match, then … except in guns. Diebitsch has, what, three times that number?’

Hervey nodded. ‘But in country so trappy it’s not perhaps so decisive. I think he’ll have the devil of a job bringing the Vizier to battle.’ He drained his coffee cup and rose. ‘See, I want to take a ride into yonder foothills. There’s nothing to occupy us here until Roth comes in. Will you ride with me?’

‘Of course. It’s a deuced tedious business riding with an army; I’d relish a gallop. But first, while you attend on the headquarters, I shall take a bath.’

Hervey looked at him doubtfully.

‘There’s a Turkish bath here.’

‘Truly?’

‘Tellaks and all. The provost-marshal put it under guard, reserved it for the staff, but I fancy I’ll be able to get a ticket.’

The summons to headquarters proved something of a misunderstanding, merely an invitation to breakfast with the officers. Hervey took coffee with them and left as soon as he was decently able, but not before the courtesy of seeking leave of the general-in-chief (or rather, his chief of staff) to ride out from the lines. He turned down the offer of an escort of Cossacks, explaining that he intended merely to see the country rather than the enemy. Besides, a pair of horsemen ought to present no alarm to Turkish scouts.

They set off at eleven and headed due south. It was not yet hot, although the flies were troubling, and it was a relief to get into the fresher air beyond the outposts.

‘How was your bath?’

‘Quite excellent, thank you. There were only two others admitted. You should have come. But here’s the strange thing: the tellaks were Bulgar – and very good, too; very adroit with tired muscles – but no lover of the Turk, certainly. Not at all. There was much thanksgiving for the arrival of the Russians