Hervey 10 - Warrior (44 page)

'But now there is a chief on that throne who is ill disposed to us. For all that we know, Dingane may be gathering his strength even now.'

'I think it unlikely,' said Hervey, taking his coffee and moving to a chair by the open west window of the lieutenant-governor's office. 'It was in part Shaka's prolonged war-making that sowed the seeds of his fall. Dingane will likely as not wish a period of peace to consolidate his succession. It is, after all, a precarious one.'

Somervile rose from his desk and limped to the sideboard to replenish his cup. 'Your appreciation of the situation would do credit to a diplomatist. I wish only that my essay as a warrior had been as acute.'

'I think you chastise yourself unfairly. The warrior's trade is a difficult one even for the most practised. I never had a harder fight than at kwaWambaza.'

Somervile took a sip of his coffee, and stifled a sigh. 'The warrior's trade, as you reduce it thus, is not slaying, but being slain. That is why our nation – I might add, the world – honours the warrior, because he holds his life at the service of the state.'

'Perhaps "King" rather than "state" might be more . . . lyrical?'

'Do not dismiss the notion lightly, Hervey. You placed your life at the service of the nation, and I fear the nation will not repay you.'

Hervey half frowned. 'I have generally settled for penury in that direction in the past – as have we all in the service. Beggars in red, Somervile.' He knew, though, that in recent weeks Somervile had placed his own life in the service of the King, but that his old friend believed he would not now see the gilded appointment in Canada which Huskisson had promised him.

'I am especially sorry that . . . Shaka's favourite,' (he had noticed that Somervile had not been able to pronounce Pampata's name since kwaWambaza) 'should have perished, and in such a brute way.'

Hervey turned his head to the window. He had been trying for a month to put away both the fact and the image of her death. 'It is very hard not to think of this country as but one enormous brute place. I confess I will be well pleased to leave this fairest cape, for all its sunsets and sunrises.'

'And your dragoons?'

'They will not be mine for much longer . . . But, yes, they too are glad to be recalled. Though we leave behind a good few of them in the ground.'

Somervile knew that there were as many buried from natural causes as by hostile hand, but he honoured them just the same. 'How shall you proceed in the case of Captain Brereton?' he asked, his brow lined.

Hervey turned his head back. 'With recourse to the cardinal virtues.'

'The Platonic virtues, I trust you mean; not the Patristic excrescence.'

Hervey suppressed a smile. 'Indeed.'

'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.

But he was wrong. Howard did not feel himself at all bound by confidentiality, since the news was entirely official. 'Here,' he said, producing a piece of folded paper from a pocket.

Fairbrother took hold of it, intrigued. He sat back in his chair and looked Howard steadily in the eye. 'It is nothing that Hervey would have me know from his own lips?'

Howard shook his head and took a good sip of his whiskey.

Fairbrother unfolded the paper, and read:

His Majesty is pleased to approve the Commander-in-Chief's desire that the under-named officers be promoted Major-General.

Colonel Stamford Blakeborough Lieutenant-Colonel The Earl of Holderness

(Signed) Willingham Asst. Private Secr.y

He frowned, and folded it again. 'Upon my word, Howard, this is hardly calculated to be pleasing to our friend. He had a regard for Hol'ness, but I should scarce suppose it ran to thinking him fit for such a promotion! And
this
brings you to the Cape?'

Howard held up a hand enigmatically.

'Come, man! Or is it . . . Ah, I see. The Sixth is now up for purchase!'

Howard shook his head.

'But why should the commander-in-chief wish to promote a man who has fits at the least provocation? I suppose he does not know of them, of course. And that business on manoeuvres at Windsor . . . all Hervey's doing, the success that night. Hol'ness had a fit in the middle of the river and Hervey took over the whole affair – and swore everyone to secrecy!'

'I don't doubt it. Indeed, I knew of it. And so did the commanderin-chief. Bushels don't always conceal lights, you know.'

'Then what—'

'The Duke of Wellington himself wrote to Lord Hill and requested that Hol'ness be placed on the major-generals' list to be appointed lieutenant-governor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and since the Duchy appointments are in the prime minister's gift . . . I fancy the duke imagines Lord Hol'ness will not disgrace the court. Lady Hol'ness is, of course, in waiting to the Princess Victoria.'

'Well,' said Fairbrother, blowing out a great deal of smoke. 'It all astonishes me.'

'You are not inclined to know why the duke favours Hol'ness?'

'If you are able to tell me, I have no objection in knowing.'

Howard smiled, and took another good measure of whiskey. 'It would seem that the duke attended a concert of music in the summer, and was much delighted by the playing and singing of a certain lady.'

'I understand the duke is fond of music, yes. And I fancy you will tell me the lady was a handsome one.'

'The lady was, word has it, Lady Lankester – that is, Mrs Matthew Hervey.'

Fairbrother's eyes widened. '
Indeed?
'

'At supper afterwards, apparently, the duke asked after Hervey, and she informed him that he was to be gazetted to the infantry in Canada on return from the Cape, and that she was much disappointed in this, and—'

Fairbrother sat upright. 'You don't mean that the duke wished to create a vacancy in the Sixth by promoting the lieutenantcolonel?'

'I have been unable to think of any other explanation. And, in its way, it is a perfectly proper thing. It certainly serves!' Howard took another sip of his whiskey, and smiled contentedly. 'Evidently Mrs Hervey plays the pianoforte with a good deal of passion.'

Fairbrother sat back in his chair. 'You mistake the matter, Howard. I have heard Kezia Hervey play the pianoforte. She does so with a great deal of anger, not passion.'

Howard looked rather taken aback. 'I am not best qualified to judge these things. But a happy outcome nevertheless.'

Fairbrother sat up again, frowning. 'But see; how anyway does this help? The Cavalry's changing hands for twenty thousand and more – far beyond Hervey's means!'

'Lord Hill has the discretion to appoint without purchase. He does so in Hervey's case.'

Fairbrother rose at once, with the keenest expression of pleasure, and pulled the bell-rope.

The khansamah came.

'Be so good, Jaswant, as to send at once for Colonel Hervey-sahib. It is most imperative.'

For the next quarter of an hour they sat in happy contemplation of the news from the Horse Guards, so that when Hervey did come – from out of his bath and hastily dressed in plain clothes – the two good acquaintances were thoroughly fuelled with excellent malt and equally good cheer.