Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [56]
“I’ll hold him for you while you mount, sir,” she said.
“Thank you. He certainly moves about a bit when I try!”
“I expect he does, sir,” said Polly. She knew about difficult horses; this one had all the hallmarks of a right bastard, one of those not cowed at all by the obvious superiority of the human race.
The mare eyeballed and yellowtoothed her as Blouse mounted, but Polly had positioned herself carefully away from the uprights of the shelter. Thalacephalos wasn’t the sort to buck and kick. She was the sneaky kind, Polly could see, the sort that stepped on your foot—
She moved her foot just as the hoof came down. But Thalacephalos, angry at being thwarted, turned, twisted, lowered her head, and bit Polly sharply on the rolled-up socks.
“Bad horse!” said Blouse severely. “Sorry about that, Perks. I think he’s anxious to get to the fray! Oh, my word!” he added, looking down. “Are you all right, Perks?”
“Well, he’s pulling a bit, sir—” said Polly, being dragged sideways. Blouse had gone white again.
“But he’s bitten…he’s caught you by the…right on the…”
The penny dropped. Polly looked down, and hastily remembered what she’d heard during numerous rule-free bar fights.
“Oh…ooo…Argh…blimey! Right inna fruit! Aargh!” she lamented, and then, since it seemed a good idea at the time, brought both fists down heavily on the mare’s nose.
The lieutenant fainted.
It took some time to bring Blouse around, but at least it gave Polly time to think.
He opened his eyes and focused on her.
“Er, you fell off your horse, sir,” Polly volunteered.
“Perks? Are you all right? Dear boy, he had you by the—”
“Only needs a few stitches, sir!” said Polly cheerfully.
“What? From Igor?”
“Nosir. Just the cloth, sir,” said Polly. “The trousers are a bit big for me, sir.”
“Ah, right. Too big, eh? Phew, eh? Near miss there, eh? Well, I mustn’t lie around here all day—”
The squad helped him onto Thalacephalos, who was still sniggering unrepentantly. On the subject of “too big,” Polly made a mental note to see about his jacket next time they stopped. She wasn’t much good with a needle, but if Igor couldn’t do something to make it look better then he wasn’t the man she thought he was. And that was a sentence that begged a question.
Jackrum bellowed them into order. They were better at that now. Neater, too.
“All right, Ins-and-Outs! Tonight we—”
A set of huge yellow teeth removed his cap.
“Oh, I do apologize, Sergeant!” said Blouse behind him, trying to rein back the mare.
“No bother, sir, these things happen!” said Jackrum, furiously tugging his hat back.
“I should like to address my men, Sergeant.”
“Oh? Er…yes, sir,” said Jackrum, looking worried. “Of course, sir. Ins-and-Outs! Attenwaitforitshun!”
Blouse coughed.
“Er…men,” he said. “As you know, we must make all speed to the Kneck Valley where, apparently, we are needed. Traveling by night will prevent…entanglements. Er…I…”
He stared at them, his face contorted by some inner struggle.
“Er…I have to say I don’t think we are…that is, all the evidence is…er…it doesn’t seem to me that…er…I think I should tell you…er…”
“Permission to speak, sir?” said Polly. “Are you feeling all right?”
“We just have to hope that those put in power over us are making right decisions,” mumbled Blouse. “But I have every confidence in you and I am sure you will do your best. Long Live the Duchess! Carry on, Sergeant Jackrum.”
“Ins-and-Outs! Form up! March!”
And they headed into the dusk and off to war.
About half an hour after the squad had left, the charcoal-burners’ cat ventured very cautiously back into the hut. It liked the hut. It got fed there.
It watched, with suspicion, a stub of candle that had been lit and put very carefully on a pile of straw and dried bracken between the makeshift beds. Its ears flattened as the shrinking candle flared and the waxy straw around it began to crackle. By the time the hut was a mass of flame, the cat was on the other side of the clearing, moving fast.