Because . . . apart from the fact that I once had a cocker spaniel who answered to that name – albeit a most intelligent and affectionate beast . . . because, apart from that, we are accustomed to refer to our sovereign lord and master, the Brigadier, as
“Fred” ... so that would only be to confuse matters quite unbearably.’ He smiled devilishly. ‘So henceforth you are
“Freddie” – is that acceptable?’
He had to accept the hand, even though he knew what that hand had done once, and therefore must have done many times. And he also had to answer the man coolly and confidently, if he wasn’t to be despised. ‘Anything, so long as it isn’t “Fatty”, which I had to answer to all the way through prep school – perfectly acceptable, sir.’
‘“Amos”, Freddie. We’re all equals here.’ De Souza’s grip was firm and dry and strong – the best sort of handshake. ‘All, that is, except this young whippersnapper, temporary Captain Audley.’
The hand relaxed its grip. ‘Talking of whom . . . have you dealt with those transport problems, young David? Are the drivers properly briefed?’
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‘All except Hughie, Amos.’ Audley was quite unabashed. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, go and attend to him.’ Beneath the lazy drawl there was a sharp reef of concern. ‘I want no mistakes tonight – no unfortunate accidents, like last time: Apart from which ... I have a strong suspicion that our Fred himself may very well materialize out of the darkness up on the limes romanorum tonight. So we wouldn’t want anything less than maximum effort, would we, now? Eh, Captain Audley?’
There was a fractional pause before Audley replied. ‘It w-wasn’t my fault last time. It was the Croc who fucked things up, if you ask me, Amos – ’
‘But I’m not asking you, David. I am just making sure that you do not ... as you put it so delicately . . . “fuck things up” this time.
Right?’
Audley rocked slightly on his heels. ‘Yes, Amos.’
‘Thank you, David.’ Amos de Souza acknowledged the boy’s surrender quite deliberately, without mercy. ‘Now . . . Freddie . . .
we’re due in the mess in fifteen minutes, and Colonel Colbourne is a stickler for punctuality. But he expected you here earlier, so I’d better wheel you in to him right away, without more ado – right?’
He turned back to his desk for a moment, and a tiny beam of lamplight glinted on the rosette on his Military Cross ribbon: MC
and bar and the desert ribbon established Major de Souza as a sharp-end soldier in the past, whatever malignant fate had condemned him to do in Greece in the more recent past, and whatever he was doing in Germany now. Then he looked sideways, without straightening up, towards Audley. ‘I thought you dummy4
were going back to your horse-lines, dear boy – what’s keeping you?’
Audley stood his ground. ‘I w-w-w-was . . . j-j- just thinking, Amos –’
‘J-just thinking?’ De Souza straightened up. ‘Now, that’s half your trouble, young David: “j-just thinking” –eh?’ Then he shook his head. ‘All right! What have you been j-just thinking, then? Share the wisdom of the ages with us – go on!’
Audley opened his mouth, and then closed it as though he was nerving himself to control his stutter.
Major de Souza turned back to his desk, selecting a thin file from a pile of thicker ones before returning to Audley. ‘But now you’ve thought better of it? Which is probably j-just as well. Go – to the horse-lines, dear boy. You’ll be much safer doing your duty there.’
The young man drew a deep breath, which seemed to make him even bigger than he was. ‘You should tell him about the Colonel, Amos.’
‘Tell him what?’
Another breath. ‘That he’s a looney.’
Major de Souza looked at Audley for a long moment, and as the moment lengthened and with bitter experience of his own adjutants taking their job seriously, Fred braced himself for an explosion.
But the young man stood his ground, to the credit of his courage if not his intelligence, or his obstinacy if not his courage.
Then de Souza smiled, and shook his head, and finally laughed softly. ‘David, David, David . . . How many times do I have to tell dummy4
you, dear boy . . . that we’re all loonies here. If we weren’t loonies, we wouldn’t be here.’ He favoured Fred with a cynical twist of the lip. ‘So you go back to your horse-lines, David . . . and make sure all our transport is ready to move on H-Hour, like a good dragoon.
Because we don’t want any slip-ups this time. So ... move, Captain Audley.’
Audley moved. And Fred thought, as the hobnails on the young man’s boots scraped and skittered on the stone floor, that he would also have moved after that order from the adjutant. Particularly this adjutant.
‘Now then Freddie – ’ Major de Souza indicated the open doorway, out of which Audley had vanished ‘ – shall we go then?’
Fred let himself be shepherded out of the office, into the gathering gloom of the cloister.
‘To your left.’ But then de Souza closed the door behind him, and locked it carefully, turning a key-on-a-chain in a heavy padlock as Fred waited for him. And, as he waited, he drew into his nose a faint savoury cooking smell, which must have drifted from somewhere round the colonnaded square, because the steady downpour still glinted in the open space in its centre, and that would have damped down such smells.
‘He’s a good boy, is David.’ De Souza pointed their direction.
‘Very bright ... if he lives, he’ll go far, as they say . . . but quite out of his depth, I’m afraid.’
‘Yes?’ For a man who was supposed to know what he was about, Fred still felt nonplussed.
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‘Too young – far too young.’ De Souza led the way. ‘Fred – Fred, our lord and master ... he should never have lumbered us with him.
And Colonel Colbourne shouldn’t have accepted him.’ He stopped abruptly outside another door, and rapped his knuckles on it. This is men’s work. And boys aren’t up to it, no matter how bright they are – ‘
‘ Come!’ A high voice, almost querulous, invited them from the other side of the door.
‘A great pity, really.’ De Souza ignored the voice, staring at Fred in the light of a hurricane lamp hanging on a bracket on one of the pillars of the colonnade. This’ll spoil him. Because he can’t really understand what he’s doing. He’s got a scholarship waiting up at Cambridge. So ... he’s done his regimental bit, in Normandy ... so they should have let go of him.‘ He grasped the doorhandle. ’A pity – a great pity – ‘
‘Wait!’ There were so many questions which Fred couldn’t ask now that he didn’t know what to ask. He only knew that he didn’t want to go straight into that room.
‘What?’ De Souza stared at him.
‘ Come!’ The invitation was repeated.
A useless question surfaced. ‘What is this place?’
‘Huh! It’s a Roman fort.’ De Souza didn’t seem surprised. ‘A Roman auxiliary fort on the limes, in the Taunus, rebuilt by a rich German in the nineteenth century. The last unit to occupy this place, before us, was Cohors IV Britannorum Equitata, in the second century after the birth of Christ. Which makes us the dummy4
second British contingent up here, on the Taunus. Which is probably why we’re here now, actually – ’ The doorhandle rattled, and de Souza let go of it, and the door began to open.
‘Who’s that?’ The voice came out of the gap, still high-pitched, but irritated now.
‘It’s Amos, sir.’ De Souza stood back from the door. ‘Major Fattorini has just arrived. I’ve got him with me.’
The door opened wide, and de Souza sprang to attention and saluted as it did so. So Fred did the same, but not so smartly, because the Colonel was stark naked.