the wretched muddle. Jane laughed heartily, as he had feared she would; but under the circumstances he
found he could not be sorry to have given her a cause for unfeigned pleasure, even one embarrassing to
himself. “Whyever did you not set her right?” she said, amused. “No, never mind. I expect she has not
said a word about it openly, which you could answer, and you would not broach the subject if hot
pokers were put to you. It must be very inconvenient, talking of anything awkward in your family.”
She fell silent then; it evoked too well their own awkward circumstances, and she looked down at her
cup and rolled it between her palms. “I do beg your pardon,” Laurence said, after a moment, “with all my
heart.”
“Yes,” Jane said, “but you beg it for the wrong things. Charging off alone, without a word, and that
appalling letter you left for me, all ‘I could not love thee dear, so much,’ as though you owed me apology
as a lover and not as your commander. I blushed to show it to anyone, and of course it had to be handed
over. For a week, I could cheerfully have run you through myself, sitting in rooms with them reading out
bits of it in insinuating tones, and putting Sanderson over me, damn them.”
“Jane,” he said, “Jane, you must see, I could ask no-one; to have put you in such a position—”
“What position, which you did not put me into, regardless?” Jane said. “They could not have suspected
me more if I had really had all the guilty knowledge in the world.”
“If I had spoken, you should have been obliged to stop me,” Laurence said.
“And a good thing too if I had,” Jane said. “One private note to some Frenchman with a little rank, and
they would have had the mushroom in hand in a month. Do you think every servant at Loch Laggan is
incorruptible, knowing that Bonaparte would pay a million francs for the damned things?” He recoiled
inwardly, and she saw it. “No, of course it would not have suited you to have done the whole thing
quietly, you and your damned honor.”
“It would not have been any less treason,” Laurence said.
“No, but as you were bent on
that
in any case, it would have been a good deal less pain,” Jane said,
and then she rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. “No, never mind. I do not mean it. I do
not suppose there was any decent way to go about it: all decency was already gone. But damn you
anyway, Laurence.”
He felt the justice of her rebuke, and bowed his head over his hands. After a moment she added, “And
to crown the whole, you must needs come back and make a martyr of yourself, so now anyone who
cares a farthing for your life must watch you hanged; that is, if they do not decide to make a spectacle of
it and draw and quarter you in the fine old style. I suppose you would go to it like Harrison, ‘as cheerful
as any man could do in that condition.’ Well, I should not be damned cheerful, and neither should anyone
else who loved you, and some of them can knock down half of London Town if they should choose.”
Page 87
“I SHOULD CERTAINLY CHOOSE,”Temeraire said, and thought to himself that he would make a
point of speaking again to the Ministry gentleman, or perhaps one of those generals, to make it perfectly
plain. “Pray do not worry, Laurence,” he added, “I am sure they will not be so foolish.”
“Men can be very foolish indeed,” Laurence said, “and I must, I do, beg you not to enter into a
resolution, which should prevent my being able to face death with equanimity. You should make me a
coward, if I must fear that my death should turn you against my country.”
“But I do not at all want you to face death with equanimity,” Temeraire said, “if by that you mean letting
them hang you, instead of making a fuss. If that should make you unhappy, so should I be unhappy, if you
were killed. It was dreadful, so dreadful, when I thought that you were gone. I did not feel as though I
knew myself anymore. I even wanted to kill poor Lloyd, for no reason at all, and I do not ever wish to
feel so again.”
Laurence said, “Temeraire, you must know that you shall, inevitably; I have two score years or three
perhaps at most, and you ten, to look forward to.”
Temeraire flattened his ruff, unhappily, not wishing even to speak of the matter. “But that at least, will not
be anyone’s fault; no one will have
taken
you.” The distinction was very plain in his mind. Anyway he did
not mean to think about something so far-away and misty. Perhaps he might think of some way to
prevent it, by then; if dragons might live two hundred years, he did not see why people might not, also.
He turned his head gladly as Moncey came dropping down beside him. “Temeraire, they are hungry
over by Nottingham Castle: there were not enough deer for everyone.”
“They may come here and share our breakfast,” Temeraire said, indicating the great pit where Gong Su
had made them a great thickened wheat porridge flavored with venison and greens and preserved
lemons. It had been ingeniously made waterproof by a thick lining of canvas, and heated by stones which
Iskierka had fired, dropped in. “And from now on we will all go shares; you must all admit,” he said to
the others, “it is perfectly nice.”
“Nothing as good as a fresh hot buck all to oneself,” Requiescat said, grumbling.
“Well,” Temeraire said, “if you prefer, you may take a single buck or a cow to yourself instead of three
days of soup or porridge, because that is how far they may be stretched, Gong Su says.”
He was very happy to turn to such mundane affairs, and to pretend that he and Laurence had finished
their conversation, and were again in perfect accord, although it made him feel a little ashamed. He knew
Laurence would not interrupt anything which was like work: Laurence did not think much of officers who
had conversations or pleased themselves while their duty waited. So it was a good excuse, and as long as
Temeraire made himself busy, he could be sure not to be asked to return again to the difficult and
unhappy subject.
He was quite resolved that he was not going to let Laurence be killed, no matter what. Laurence would
certainly never be happy
after
being killed, so it did not seem to Temeraire much consolation that he
should be a little happier beforehand. And Temeraire was now very sure that the only way to be certain
of protecting Laurence, would be to make it plain to their Lordships that something dreadful would
happen to
them,
if they dared to hurt him, so he had no intentions of withdrawing his threat. But he could
not help but peer cautiously sidelong to where Laurence was speaking now with Admiral Roland: he
looked tired, and although of course he would not let his shoulders slump, there was some quality of
Page 88
unhappiness in the way he stood, and Temeraire’s conscience smote him even while he considered his
escape from the discussion with gratitude.
At least Laurence was dressed respectably now: Temeraire felt that there, at least, he had done his duty
a little better. He had whispered a quiet word to Lady Allendale, last night, and she had sent down some
clothes from the house: a warm thick cloak, and some of Laurence’s old things, which had been given her
to keep when Laurence had been put in prison. It was not quite how Temeraire should have
liked
to see
him dressed; but at least he had his sword again, and better boots, and a coat which fitted.
Then Palliatia landed, with four more Yellow Reapers, and a couple of Grey Coppers, hungry, and
punished him by making his subterfuge quite real. They fell upon the porridge, were noisy and
quarrelsome while eating, and when it was all gone she said belligerently, “And where will we eat
tomorrow? No treasure and no food either; what of all your fine promises now?”
He was rather taken aback to be so challenged, and said, “You needn’t snap at me, because we have
lost a battle. After all, if Napoleon were so easy to beat, he would not have any treasure worth taking.
So you must expect some difficulties, and I call it poor-spirited to begin to complain only because you
were not clever enough to find yourself enough dinner last night.”
“Oh, you did not talk of difficulties before,” she said, “and you did not seem to think so much of
Napoleon either. If he has so much treasure, then it stands to reason he must be
very
difficult to beat,
and perhaps we are not going to win at all.”
“And if we do,” a Grey Copper named Rictus said pointedly, raising his head out of the porridge-pit, “I
expect there will be no pavilions anyway, or treasure, not for us, or leastways not for those of us who
haven’t got our captains again, and a place in the Corps waiting for us any time we like. No, it’ll be back
to the breeding grounds with us, and if we are only to end up as we began, I don’t see why we are going
about getting ourselves shot, and clawed, and flying across all Creation hungry.”
There was a low scattered murmur of agreement, and worse, several other dragons raising their heads,
in some interest, to see how he would answer. Temeraire sat up angrily. “I am not a sneak, and if you like
to call me one, you may say so at once, and plainly, instead of creeping about implying it.”
“Well, what
do
you mean to do, when we have won?” Ballista said, having listened in so far. “Rictus
isn’t wrong to say that you needn’t worry about the rest of us anymore: you are not unharnessed
anymore, even if you haven’t much of a crew to speak of.”
Temeraire flattened his ruff at this last remark. After all, he had Gong Su back now, and Dorset—even if
Dorset was not quite so desirable as Keynes—and of course Emily and Demane and Sipho, and
Fellowes and Blythe, and even Allen, so he had a perfectly respectable number, which in any case had
nothing to do with the matter. “You had a crew before, and might have one again, yourself, and so might
any of us,” he pointed out, “so the question is not whether one is in harness, but whether one may choose
to be, or not, and if it is only a choice between being in harness or being in the breeding grounds, that is
not enough of a choice at all, when the breeding grounds are so boring; and that is the case even if one is
in harness for the moment.”
“Yes, but,” Ballista said, and then paused until Majestatis, lying next to her, said bluntly, “Look, old
worm, we are all doing what you say, so what if they should offer you something you want, if only you
keep us quiet and fighting with the rest of the harnessed fellows? We all know they want to hang your
captain—what if they should offer you his life?”
Page 89
Temeraire paused in his turn. “Well, I am not going to let them hang Laurence no matter what,” he said,
with a hasty glance to be sure he had not been overheard, “but I do see: they might offer me a very large
pavilion, or a great deal of gold.” He rubbed a talon back and forth over his forehead, thoughtfully. “It
would not be fair,” he said at last, “if I took
anything
that should be for me only, when I should be
getting it not for my own work but for all of ours: we are all sharing. So perhaps,” he added, “one of you
had better come along, when I go and talk to the generals again: one of the little ones who can go all
about and let everyone know what it is they will give us.”
“I will come along,” Minnow said. “I have never been harnessed, and I don’t look to be ever, so no-one
can say I am inclined to go soft on them. Anyway I would like to see a general, I never have.”
Temeraire stretched his head over to ask Laurence and Admiral Roland who was presently in command,
and where they might be; which he thought quite a straightforward question. “Well, it isn’t,” Admiral
Roland answered him. “It is still Dalrymple for the moment, I suppose. But he is likely to be replaced as
soon as we get to Scotland and Government have a chance to take him out of harm’s way: our harm, that
is. If there is a lick of sense among them it shall be Wellesley in his place, but we ought not put our hopes
so high.”
“But then who am I to talk to?” Temeraire said. “I do not like to say so, but the others are not quite
happy—after all our hard work, we have lost, and got no treasure, and they would like to know what use
it is to keep on. Not,” he added hastily, in case Laurence or Admiral Roland should think that he was a
poor officer, “that we have no discipline, but after all, they are not harnessed, so they wonder why we
are helping so much.”
Laurence was silent a moment, and then he said, “We may as well speak to Wellesley: it cannot much
matter who we have made arrangements with, if the war is lost.”
Admiral Roland nodded and said, “I will tell you: now we have got the guns out of the way, I meant to
send some of us back anyway, to cover the infantry when they come out of Weedon. It is too close to
London, and Bonaparte has too many dragons by half. I think I have worked out where he is getting
them from,” she added. “He is using unharnessed beasts, too, pulled out of his own breeding grounds: I
dare say that Celestial of his can talk them out of their caves as well as Temeraire can ours.”
“I do not see that she needed go to any special effort,” Temeraire said, with feeling, “when Napoleon is
doing everything nice, and giving his dragons pavilions and treasure, too, I expect: I am sure no-one is
complaining to
her.
”