Soldier of the Queen (44 page)

‘How bad is it?’ Colby asked as he untied the bandages.

‘Not so good, that’s a fact.’ Ackroyd managed a twisted grin. ‘But not so bad either. What ’appened?’

Colby tried to tell him. The shock of Brosy’s death remained. The agony on his face as he had been rushed to the surgeon, the startled realisation that he was already a dead man, had been clear in his eyes and in the strangled cry that had escaped his lips. There was nothing they could do, and when the assegai had been removed the blood that had gushed out had carried away his life. As he thought about it, Colby found tears prickling his eyes. Brosy had been alongside him all through his life. He had been to the same school and with him at Balaclava, had even brought him home from America. Why did it have to be kind, good-hearted Brosy, he wondered, and he remembered something Von Hartmann had said at Mars-la-Tour – ‘It is always the tallest poppies that are picked.’

Feeling miserably that he had failed his friend, he told himself again and again that death was a chance they all took and he couldn’t have done more than he had. What in God’s name will I tell Grace, he wondered.

Four days later, as they jolted south, the officer with the amputated leg died. They buried him at Landman’s Drift and a surgeon who looked and smelled like a vet wrenched off the bandages from Colby’s wound, cleaned it and strapped the arm to his chest. The prospect of another hundred miles in a wagon was more than he could bear.

‘For God’s sake, Tyas,’ he said to Ackroyd. ‘Find me some old nag that won’t throw me and shove me in a saddle.’

Seated on an old horse that looked like a hat-rack and made a noise in its throat like a German band, and stiff as a tinker with brandy to kill the pain, he was at the head of his men as they appeared outside Pietermaritzburg. Von Hartmann had turned up again, concerned but behaving as if he were Moses and had seen the tablets on the mountain.

‘I think I was wrong at Mars-la-Tour,’ he said. ‘Ulundi will justify the existence of cavalry for a few more years.’

He told Colby that Augusta had been informed of his wound and Colby couldn’t make up his mind whether to be grateful or regard it as bloody interference. His shoulder was hurting and he was still depressed by Brosy’s death. Try as he might, he couldn’t push from his mind the image of him on his knees by the river, the shaft of the assegai sticking out under his arm, the long blade protruding from his neck, the agony and fear in his eyes with the knowledge of death, and the soundless scream that was coming from his lips.

As the 19th appeared, Augusta, numb with apprehension, kept moving from one foot to the other in her nervous agitation. Her marriage had long since passed through that state when her emotions were a confusion of despair, delight, obsession and adoration, and she had entered a calmer period when she asked nothing more of life than to have her husband alongside her and her children growing up around her.

Then suddenly she saw Ackroyd, dressed in the cord of the Cape Light Horse, cantering past, and both she and Annie screamed and started to wave frantically. As he slid from the saddle he was smiling, and Augusta’s heart, which had been thudding inside her chest, calmed. Ackroyd smiling could mean only one thing.

‘My husband, Tyas?’ she managed.

‘’E’s all right, ma’am. Bit uncomfortable because ’e got ’it. You’ll see ’im in a minute.’

She was aware of tears of relief in her eyes. ‘What about all the others?’

Ackroyd’s face changed. ‘Lost one or two, ma’am. Sergeant ’Arding, for one. You’ll remember ’im. I doubt if you’ll know the others. And – and–’ he paused ‘–Mr la Dell, ma’am.’

‘What happened to him, Tyas?’

‘’E’s dead, ma’am.’

‘Oh, no! Poor Grace! How?’

‘Assegai, ma’am.’

Then she knew that her dream had been broken. It hadn’t been Colby at all, as she had expected, but Grace’s Brosy.

As she moved back to the edge of the road, she saw the 19th appear beyond the trees, smudges of rifle-green and red. They looked shabbier than when she’d last seen them but were well in charge of themselves. Then she saw Colby. He was riding in front, accompanied by his trumpeter and his orderly. His right arm was strapped to his chest and he was riding a staid raw-boned horse that he wouldn’t normally have been seen dead on, but despite everything he looked remarkably fit.

As he passed her, Colby saluted gravely, and he saw the other officers also acknowledge her: Radliffe. Johnson. Morby-Smith. Young Ellesmere – so brown now there was no sign of his acne. And, as he saw her hands go to her throat, he knew she had realised they were saluting her not because she was the colonel’s wife but because she was one of them.

All round him people were cheering and hats were tumbling in salute. Then he saw Augusta’s face and shining eyes and saw that she was laughing, too – and crying and cheering all at the same time – and he had a feeling that at last she had realised why it was that old soldiers always came back whenever they could, wearing their medals, to be part of the regiment. The mystique had touched her as it had touched them, and for the first time she could see what lay behind the reverence for the regimental souvenirs; why the adoption and dedication of the regimental chapel in Ripon Cathedral was so important; why the faded colours that hung under the arches at York were embossed with names like Talavera, Salamanca, Vittoria, Waterloo and Balaclava; why Trumpeter Sparks’ instrument hung in a glass case in the hall of the officers’ mess at the depot where everybody could see it.

The blunt, unclever British soldier, whether he were a private or a field marshal, lived, fought, married, begat children and finally retired under an extraordinary influence as powerful and binding as the medieval church. It wasn’t the Queen they fought for. It wasn’t the army even. It was the regiment.

There was no longer any question of where she belonged. She belonged with the regiment.

Wherever it was.

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

(in order of first publication)

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

Published by House of Stratus

Back to Battle The third title in the exciting naval trilogy featuring the courageous Kelly Maguire. Commander Kelly Maguire, leader of men in the British Navy, finds himself plunged into blistering attacks at the battle of Dunkirk. From bitter fighting in the Mediterranean, to the landings at Normandy, this action-packed saga takes Maguire through trial to triumph. Against a background of personal tragedy, this is a compelling story of love and adventure.

The Blunted Lance The second novel in the Goff family trilogy. The Goffs, a family devoted to The Regiment - the Nineteenth Lancers - find themselves charting a history of the world from the Sudan to South Africa, Flanders to Palestine. Charging and retreating on the wide plains of a failing British Empire, Coby Goff rises to the rank of Field Marshal and Dabney is honoured as a hero. But they witness the decline of the beloved cavalry, defeated in the face of pounding artillery, the tank and machine gun.

The Bright Blue Sky The first in Hennessy’s breathtaking RAF trilogy. The reckless days of early aviation are brought to life in a tale of daring, dashing young pilots waging war, and of the raging struggle between the hearts of two brave men for the heart of a beautiful woman. This is the first story in the trilogy involving Corporal Quinney, an air ace in the RAF; a hero blazing through the skies to dogfight high above the Italian front, confronting deadly foes and challenging a treacherous rival in love and war.

The Challenging Heights The second in Hennessy’s breathtaking RAF trilogy. Dicken Quinney, a brilliant, heroic character, comes to life in this turbulent action novel. Quinney finds himself flying in the Baltic in a fight against the Bolsheviks. But tragedy mixes with adventure as Quinney loses his lover, Zoe.

The Dangerous Years The second title in the exciting naval trilogy featuring the courageous Kelly Maguire. There is talk of peace across Europe as the First World War draws to its bloody conclusion and the German naval fleet limps into Scapa Flow for a humiliating surrender. But for Lieutenant Kelly Maguire, new conflicts arise in Russia, the Mediterranean and the Far East. Maguire faces brutal choices and violent action. Rising through the ranks of the Royal Navy he is sent on a mission to the killing-ground of China. For Maguire, dangerous years are ahead.