As he brushed his thick blond hair into place his hand stilled. He no longer looked a schoolboy. His face had grown firmer and regained the air of confidence Julia had banished. Not yet twenty-one, he nevertheless looked sufficiently responsible to hold his present rank. His moustache had now thickened enough to silence tormenting on infant whiskers which had not grown swiftly enough. It made him look older than his years, which pleased him. All in all, life was good. The Ghost Lancers provided all he wanted; the regiment was his kind of world. His spirits soared at the sound of bugles on still air, the laughter and banter of soldiers around a camp fire, the roared commands that turned six hundred individuals into a single, highly efficient force. All this was in his Ashleigh blood.
Many of the men found their present posting unbearably boring despite Max Beecham’s efforts to create diversions which involved the residents of Mariensberg. There had been football and cricket matches, field entertainments, picnics, fêtes and parties, but those men with wives and children in England, and those who had no interest in sport, found time hanging heavily in this tiny garrison.
Val was in his element, however. An avid cricketer, he could always get together enough volunteers for a game. He had learned to play football quite well. Rugby was his first love but that was the sport of officers and would have to wait a while. Each morning and evening he could be found running around the perimeter to keep fit, and his off-duty hours were spent riding the veld with his friends from the town. Being a troop-sergeant fulfilled his inborn military talent, and the company of others who could talk for hours on martial subjects completed his contentment. He had always got on famously with his fellows; it was with females that he invariably came to grief. Thank God there were none in the 57th Lancers!
When Val emerged from his quarters in the early evening glow he saw the error of that heartfelt belief. Coming towards him from the direction of the horse-lines on a tall roan mare was a thin, red-haired girl dressed in a green riding-habit. His heart sank at the sight of his colonel’s daughter. Vivienne Beecham was a thorn in his side; had been since his first days with the regiment. It was her persistent interest in him that had led her father to demand his true identity last Christmas. She was an impossibly unconventional girl determined to force her company on someone so obviously from her own social class. Val was angered by her attempts to trap him into revealing the truth about his background, and by her refusal to recognize the barrier of military rank which made their friendship unacceptable. She had resolutely pursued it when he was a trooper. Now he had gained swift promotion, there was no stopping her.
The sky behind the girl was changing from orange to a vivid yellow shot with silver streaks. The light dazzled him so that he could not tell whether or not she had recognized him until they drew level on the path leading to the Sergeants’ Mess.
She greeted him in unusually subdued manner. ‘Hallo, Havelock.’
‘Good evening, Miss Beecham.’
She turned Dinah across his path as he would have walked on. ‘Why do you consistently refuse to call me Vivienne?’
‘Probably for the same reason you refuse to call me Sergeant Havelock,’ he said, feeling irritation rise as he studied her freckled face.
‘You know why. The first time we met you told me your name was Havelock. That’s how I always think of you.’
‘I always think of you as Miss Beecham.’
She sighed. ‘Oh dear, you are in one of your truculent moods.’
‘I am on my way to dinner,’ he told her firmly. ‘Shouldn’t you be heading home for yours?’
Undergoing one of her swift changes of mood she held out her arms, saying, ‘Help me down. I have something to tell you.’
He had no intention of doing as she commanded. Once standing beside him she would have him trapped. ‘Tell me from there. It will save time.’
Vivienne raised her leg over the pommel and prepared to jump. Resigned to the inevitable, Val put up his hands to steady her descent then, when she was standing before him, stepped back to put greater distance between them. She seemed uncharacteristically reluctant to impart her news, so he had to prompt her.
‘Well, what have you to tell me?’
‘I’ve just been to the horse-lines. Father sent me to choose for myself one of the remounts you brought in today.’
He then understood her hesitation. Words burst from him in accusation. ‘You’ve taken the chestnut.’
‘I knew you’d be angry. They told me you wanted him.’
‘I am, and I did,’ he retaliated heatedly. ‘Those animals were shipped out for the regiment, not for you to use for morning calls around Mariensberg. You can’t have him!’
‘I can, and I will,’ she flashed back. ‘You have no control over what I do.’
‘If I had you would have been shipped home long ago.’
A stormy silence ensued for some moments, then she said heavily, ‘If you were not always so prickly you’d give me time to explain the things I do.’
‘The only explanation of this is that I’ve lost a splendid beast due to the colonel’s daughter’s desire to show off to the residents of Mariensberg.’
‘It is not the only explanation. If you’ll remove that mulish expression and walk with me to the perimeter gate, as a proper escort for the colonel’s daughter, I promise you’ll be pleased by what I have to say.’
Val hesitated. They were very near the Sergeants’ Mess. Men were beginning to arrive for dinner. If he simply walked away from her, there was no knowing what she might do to cause a scene. To remain where they were would mean that their conversation would be overheard and speculated on. He had no choice but to do as she wished, but he made clear his mood by taking Dinah’s bridle and leading the mare into the growing dusk at a pace dictated by his anger. The black orderlies were already out lighting wicks in the saucers of tallow at each corner of the huts. Darkness came swiftly in this land of brief twilights. If no moon brightened the night it was pitch black only a few yards from the perimeter. Val had no desire to be forced to escort Vivienne all the way to the house in town rented by her father.
‘Must you go so fast?’ she complained from several feet behind him. When he gave no response, she said, ‘I have Dinah for making morning calls … and I would never show off to the people of Mariensberg. So many of them are my friend.’ When he still would not relent, she spoke again into the silence. ‘Father intends to replace the chestnut with one of his personal chargers. I think it will be Riptide.’ She walked on, struggling to match the fast pace he deliberately maintained. ‘If it is, I’ll persuade him to give the stallion to A Troop. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
As usual, she had taken him unawares. Riptide was a splendid animal. He was getting on in years but had seen battle twice and was reputedly very steady under fire. Of course he would like the stallion for his troop.
‘Aren’t you going to answer?’
‘You haven’t told me everything yet,’ he returned over his shoulder. ‘What are you intending to do with the chestnut?’
‘Father believes Mama and I should each have a reliable spare mount. You see, with the official mail you brought in today there was a notice sent out to every garrison. Regiments in India and at home are being mobilized. Troopships are preparing for the transportation here of ten thousand troop reinforcements, large numbers of rifles and ammunition, batteries of field guns and enough supplies to maintain an army for months. Father says war is now inevitable. There has never been such a massive movement of men and stores, especially over a great distance, and the Government would hardly make such a decision then settle the dispute without a shot being fired. And it cannot possibly be merely a show of strength,’ she went on rather breathlessly, as he slowed his energetic pace. ‘The cost of such an operation is too great for it to be mere bluff. Besides, prestige is at stake. We would look foolish if we paraded a vast army then sent it home again.’
Stopping beside him, the long skirt of her green habit still hel
d free of the dust, she gave him a frank look. ‘The railways are acutely vulnerable to attack — we all know that — so the only means of transport might be a pair of good horses. Mama has Velvet and Desirée. I have only Dinah. Now do you see why I need the chestnut?’
Val hardly heard her last words. The news she had related sent excitement through him and took his full attention. ‘Is this true? They really are shipping out that number of troops with sufficient stores?’
‘The details will be public knowledge by morning. Father would not have spoken of it openly if it was secret information. He called a meeting of all officers just before I left. The news is intended to boost the morale of our troops and lower that of the Boers.’
Val was beset with conflicting emotions. War would bring him his greatest opportunity to regain Ashleigh honour, yet he was not keen on a conflict of this nature. Having been a passionate sportsman all his young life, he was reluctant to take on an opponent ill-equipped for the contest.
‘I suppose you are thrilled by the news?’
Vivienne’s face swam back into focus, banishing his visions of combat. ‘Naturally.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You’re a girl. You wouldn’t be.’ He frowned in concentration. ‘Let us suppose they sail by the end of this month. It will take them three weeks to reach the Cape, possibly another four days up to Durban. Allow time to send them out to all garrisons by special trains — I have no notion how long that would take — and it seems likely that we shall be ready to challenge the Boers by November.’
She looked dismayed. ‘In less than two months? I hadn’t expected it to be so soon.’
‘It’s still a long way off and summer will be well advanced. We missed the worst of it last year, but the tail end was hot enough. The doctor’s son warned me that temperatures rise to over a hundred and the rivers dry up in high summer. It will make long marches difficult, especially for the horses. God knows where we shall get sufficient fodder for them at that time of year.’
He was away on a flight of speculation, but her words brought him back to earth. ‘You speak as if you’ll be responsible for the whole regiment. All sergeants will have to concern themselves with is keeping their troopers under control.’
Anger flared in him. She took delight in reminding him that his behaviour did not match his rank. If he could only reveal the truth, she would be mortified by her high-handed treatment of a grandson of General Sir Gilliard Ashleigh.
‘It’s getting dark,’ he told her frostily. ‘You had better hurry or night will overtake you before you reach the town.’ Stooping, he linked his hands to form a foothold to help her mount. When she made no move, he glanced up to discover a surprisingly soft expression on her plain face.
‘I wasn’t trying to belittle you, silly. I was attempting to console myself with the thought that you won’t hold command in the coming days.’
He straightened. ‘Sergeants also have to concern themselves with fighting the enemy at the head of their troopers, Miss Beecham.’
She moved towards him. ‘Don’t be angry, Havelock. I hate it when you grow haughty and unapproachable.’ Always out of his depth when she adopted this coaxing manner, he instinctively veered away from intimacy. ‘I suppose your father will send you and Mrs Beecham to the rear well before November.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then why the need for the chestnut?’
‘To follow the regiment’s triumphant advance.’
He frowned. ‘Does you father approve of that?’
She smiled. ‘He knows Mama. She is very determined on matters of that nature.’
Val could not believe Max Beecham would allow himself to be dictated to by a pair of females, for Vivienne was as determined as her mother. Then he recalled his own submission to a strong-willed woman and accepted that his commanding officer might well bow to superior numbers. He attempted to bring the meeting to an end on that thought.
‘I am grateful for the information about reinforcements, and so on. Thank you for telling me.’
‘I did so because you are my special friend, although you always fight the fact. I do wish you wouldn’t. It’s very lonely being a colonel’s daughter.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said awkwardly, ‘you have all the officers dancing attendance on you.’
‘Only because they hope for advancement. None of them is a real friend. The married ones are meticulous in their treatment of me for fear of endangering their chances for promotion; the single ones see me as someone who could impress upon father their true worth. Several of the subalterns even have hopes of an advantageous marriage … including Audley Pickering,’ she added slyly.
Mention of Val’s prime enemy provoked his heated response. ‘You surely don’t believe that! With his pedigree he has no need to court you in the hope of advancement.’ Seeing her expression, he felt his colour rise. ‘I’m sorry. That sounded very ill mannered.’
‘Yes, it did.’
‘I simply meant … ’
‘I know what you meant. I was only teasing you. He is an insufferable prig and a useless member of the regiment, but he will rise to high rank on the strength of his royal connections alone.’
‘Not if I have my way,’ Val said grimly. ‘When I bring him down it will be with as painful a bump as I can contrive.’
‘Be careful, he has many influential friends.’
‘So have I,’ he said without thinking.
‘Other former stable-boys like yourself?’ she asked, taunting him with the lies he had once told her about his background.
Recognizing the trap into which he had fallen, Val changed the subject. ‘Your mother will be growing anxious over you, and my dinner is waiting.’
Her glance was warm and intimate. ‘That’s exactly why you’re my special friend. You are not in the least concerned with my influence over your colonel, so you say what you choose to me. It can be infuriating, but it’s curiously refreshing after so much flattery from the officers.’
This subtle reminder that he was not one of them led him once more to offer his linked hands as an aid to mounting. She put her small boot into them and was soon in the saddle looking down at him.
‘I’m so pleased that you happened to come from your quarters as I was passing, so that I had the chance to explain about the chestnut. Thank you for walking to the gate with me. We don’t meet very often, so I have to make the most of the times that we do.’
He was not prepared to respond to that, and was about to walk away when she suddenly bent to touch his cheek with a swift kiss. ‘Dearest Havelock, please promise not to get yourself killed in this war you want so badly.’
She was off, leaving him to watch with a sense of shock because she had been in tears as she turned away. Damn the girl! He never knew what to make of her, but of one thing he was certain: it was more than friendship she wanted from him.
The first person Val encountered on entering the Mess was Toby Robbins, another sergeant who was only a year or two older than himself. They had become friends due to a shared interest in team games and a mutual reluctance for female company. Toby had been jilted at the altar by a bride who did not relish being deserted for four years by a soldier husband. He had sailed with hatred in his heart, and saw all women as the one who had let him down. An educated young man who took his profession seriously, Toby accepted Val’s lies about his past and never pushed him for further details even when the occasional revealing remark slipped past his guard.
‘There you are at last,’ Toby greeted, waving a tankard of ale in Val’s direction. ‘I’m two up on you already. Turner, ale for Sergeant Havelock, at the double!’
Val crossed to him eagerly. This was his environment. He was happy and comfortable in Toby’s company, and he could not wait to break his news to those gathered there. He was initially forestalled by the arrival of a pint of ale, which he drank in almost a single draught. It made him feel even more elated, so that he returned laughing retorts to comments about a c
ertain sergeant trying to nab the best remounts for himself.
‘I’m the only one here who knows decent horseflesh when he sees it. Besides, I brought them in and earned the privilege of first choice. A Troop deserves the best. With war only two months off, a fellow has to look after his men.’
‘Nah,’ said a senior sergeant as tough as they came. ‘The Boers would never get themselves into that situation because of some damn fool politicians. We’d make mincemeat of them, and they know it. A spade’s no defence against a lance.’
Uneasiness pierced Val’s thoughts momentarily, but he was too eager to make his announcement. ‘Nor is it a defence against field artillery and ten thousand reinforcements arriving from home and India very shortly.’
‘Eh?’ queried a quiet man named Hobson. ‘What are you talking about, young Havelock?’
‘Notice came in with the mail. Troop-ships are standing by to bring men, supplies and field-pieces. It’s war without a doubt, and it’s not difficult to estimate when it will start.’
Men gathered round to bombard him with questions, none of which asked how a sergeant knew the text of a notice sent to their colonel who had not yet made it public. The discussion lasted throughout an excellent dinner guaranteed to satisfy the largest appetite. Val did justice to it, then returned to the bar for more ale with four of the junior sergeants. He had cultivated a liking for the drink favoured by the rank and file, and could now down a great deal of it without having to be carried to his quarters. He did so this evening and was soon in the thick of a rowdy argument on how quickly they would wrest from the Boers control of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State.
A Distant Hero Page 9