Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [51]
Jackrum looked from the startled squad to Polly, and back, and back again. She felt his gaze bore into her, daring her to change her expression of mad, tense honesty.
“Ye-es,” he said slowly. “Right. Sorted out, eh? Well done, Perks. Attention! Officer present!”
“Yes, yes, Sergeant, thank you, but I don’t think we need to be too formal,” said Blouse, who looked rather pale. “A word with you when you have finished, if you please? And I think we should bury the, er, bodies.”
Jackrum saluted. “Right you are, sir. Two volunteers t’ dig a grave for those poor souls! Goom and Tewt—what’s he doing?”
Lofty was over by the blazing charcoal oven. She was holding a burning branch a foot or two from her face, and turning it this way and that, watching the flames.
“I’ll do it, Sarge,” said Tonker, stepping beside Wazzer.
“What are you, married?” said Jackrum. “You are on guard, Halter. I doubt whoever did it’ll come back, but if they do, you sing out, right? You and Igor come with me, and I’ll show you your stations.”
“No coffee,” moaned Maladict.
“Foul muck, anyway,” said Jackrum, walking away. “A cup of hot sweet tea is the soldier’s friend.”
Polly grabbed the kettle for Blouse’s shaving water and hurried away. That was another thing you learned in the milit’ry: look busy. Look busy and no one worried too much about what you were busy at.
Bloody, bloody Strappi! He’d got her hair! He’d try and use it against her if he could, that was certain. That’d be his style. What would he do now? Well, he’d want to keep away from Jackrum, that’d be another certainty. He’d wait, somewhere. She’d have to, too.
The squad had made camp upwind of the smoke. It was supposed to be a rest stop, since no one had got much sleep last night, but as Jackrum handed out tasks, he reminded them: “There is an old milit’ry saying, which is: ‘Hard Luck For You.’”
There was no question of using the woven hut, but there were a few tarpaulin-covered frames built to keep the coppiced wood dry. Those not given jobs to do lay down on the stacked piles of twigs, which were yielding and didn’t smell and were in any case better than the inhabited palliasses back at the barracks.
Blouse, as an officer, had a shelter to himself. Polly had stacked bundles of twigs to make a chair that was at least springy. Now she laid out his shaving things and turned to go—
“Could you shave me, Perks?” said the lieutenant.
Fortunately, Polly’s back was turned and he didn’t see her expression.
“This damn hand is quite swollen, I’m afraid,” Blouse went on. “I would not normally ask, but—”
“Yes, of course, sir,” said Polly, because there was no alternative. Well now, let’s see…she’d got quite good at scraping a blunt razor across a face bare of hair, yes. Oh, and she’d shaved a few dead pigs in the kitchens at The Duchess, but that was only because nobody likes hairy bacon. They didn’t real count, did they? Panic rose, and rose faster at the sight of Jackrum approaching. She was going to cut an officer’s throat in the presence of a sergeant.
Well, when in doubt, bustle. Milit’ry rule. Bustle, and hope there’s a surprise attack.
“Are you not being a little strict with the men, Sergeant?” said Blouse, as Polly flapped a towel around his neck.
“Not, sir. Keep ’em occupied, that’s the bunny. Otherwise they’ll mope,” said Jackrum confidently.
“Yes, but they have just seen a couple of badly mutilated bodies,” said Blouse and shuddered.
“Good practice for ’em, sir. They’ll see plenty more.”
Polly turned to the shaving gear she’d laid out on a towel. Let’s see…cutthroat razor, oh dear, the gray stone for coarse sharpening, the red stone for fine sharpening, the soap, the brush, the bowl…well, at least she knew how to make foam…
“Deserters, Sergeant. Bad business,” Blouse went on.
“You always get ’em, sir. That’s why the pay is always late. Walking away from three months back pay makes a man think twice.”
“Mr. de Worde, the newspaper man, said there had been a great many desertions, Sergeant. It is very strange that so many men would desert from a winning side.”
Polly