suppose that it would be exactly so, but he perfectly understood his friend’s desire to command these dragoons. The only question was at what point the Sixth ceased to be the regiment of his understanding.
But meanwhile there was good news of Armstrong to buoy the spirits. When last Hervey and Malet had spoken of him it was in connection with Caithlin’s funeral. Hervey had himself made the arrangements, for Mrs Armstrong was a Catholic, and there was no one else to deal with the unfamiliar obsequies; and then, on return to the Cape, he had broken the news to his old NCO-friend, seeing him afterwards, brave but bowed, onto a steam packet home. ‘He is married and very well.’
Hervey was all astonishment. ‘Married? To whom?’
‘Serjeant Ellis’s widow.’
‘I didn’t know Ellis was dead.’
‘An aneurysm, while on revenue duty.’
Hervey did not know Ellis well, and his wife even less. But if Armstrong had found a mother for his children then he exulted for him. ‘Where is he – Armstrong, I mean?’
‘With Worsley’s troop in Bristol, doing duty for Cox who’s gone to St John’s Wood for three months.’
Hervey looked quizzical.
‘I have a mind to put Cox in charge of rough-riders. If, that is, the regiment has an RM when it’s reduced.’
Fairbrother was as silently thankful for Armstrong’s good fortune as any man might be who knew him only very partially but with infinite admiration. He wished he could intrude on this easy regimental conference, but was wary of breaking the spell. What was St John’s Wood?
By some intuition, his friend turned to him. ‘St John’s Wood is the new Riding Establishment. I say “new”, but it was first at Pimlico. They’ve built a fine school there, roofed-over for winter.’
Fairbrother nodded appreciatively; he had no idea where was St John’s Wood, but that could wait.
‘Well, I am excessively glad that Armstrong is back at muster,’ declared Hervey, warming once more to the news.
‘So are we all,’ said Malet, but with a note of caution in his voice. ‘Though he is not rightly himself, I fear.’
‘It will take time,’ said Hervey, sounding unsurprised. He had his own experience, after all.
‘I hope profoundly that that is all it will take. He appeared to me to be quite worn out. I am no doctor, of course, and the surgeon made no remark on it, but I have read of these things.’
‘I am no doctor either, Malet, but I should say that he was in the best of health when he went aboard his ship – for a man who had been eviscerated almost as cruelly as if by a Zulu spear. I think that time and regimental duty will work a cure. And Mrs Ellis, of course – Mrs Armstrong, I mean.’
Malet nodded, more dutifully and in hope than with conviction. ‘Did you want him with you in the East?’
Hervey smiled. ‘Any man would be a fool not to want Armstrong with him when there was the prospect of action. But I must concede there are prior calls on his service – and not least Mrs Armstrong. I shall need a coverman, though. Wainwright’s not yet back to condition; he was cut up a good deal in that stand of Armstrong’s against the Xhosa – else I should have brought him back with me. There are others who would serve, but the Cape troop’s in need of its best NCOs, which is why I’m applying for a serjeant – or a corporal – from the home troops.’
Malet thought for a moment. ‘I would ask the sar’nt-major were he here, but he’s with the RM, in Yorkshire, buying remounts.’
Hervey hoped fervently that the regiment would have need of remounts, rather than the need to cast them, but more immediately he wondered if Mr Rennie, brought in last year, would know which NCO was the best sabre and possessed the best coup d’oeil . He would not venture his misgivings on that account, however; and the serjeant-major would anyway consult the troop serjeant-majors. He simply nodded.
‘Do you recollect Acton, D Troop?’ tried Malet. ‘He was