"There's others have been well rewarded," says Billy. "Slow-coach is a lord — but ye know that. There must be about fifty Crosses flying about, and God knows how many titles … they might ha' done something for you. I wonder," says he, as we got out at the Fort and went along the verandah, "if a leaderette in the old Thunderer might stir 'em up, what? We can't have Horse Guards neglectin' our best men."
I liked the sound of that, rather, but as he conducted me across the hall, where Sikh sentries stood and the punkahs*(*Fans.) hissed, I thought it best to say I didn't mind, really — and then I found he was grinning all over his whiskers as he ushered me through a doorway, and I stopped dead in amazement.
It was a big, airy room, half office and half drawing-room, with a score of people standing at the far end, beyond the fine Afghan carpet, all looking in my direction, and it was sight of them that had checked me — for there was Campbell, with his grizzled head and wrinkled Scotch face, and Mansfield smiling, very erect, toying with his dark whiskers, and Macdonald grinning openly, and Hope Grant, stern and straight. In the middle was a slim, elegant civilian in a white morning coat with a handsome woman smiling beside him; it took me a moment to realise that they were Lord and Lady Canning.
Then Russell was pushing me forward, and Canning was smiling and shaking hands, and I was bowing to Lady Canning, wondering what the devil this was all about, and then there was silence, and Canning was clearing his throat and addressing me. I wish I could remember all of it, but I was quite taken aback to find myself thrust into this company, so unexpected … what was this? —"distinguished conduct on many numerous occasions, familiar to all …Afghanistan, Crimea, Balaclava, Central Asia … lately, and most exemplary, service in the insurrection of the Bengal Army … most gallant conduct in the defence and evacuation of Cawnpore … and most signally, at the direction of Sir Hugh Rose, in undertaking service of the most dangerous and difficult nature in the Gwalior campaign … warmest approval of Her Majesty and of her Ministers and principal advisers … recognition of conduct far beyond the call of duty …"
I listened to all this in a daze, and then Canning was passing something to Campbell, and he was coming up to me, glowering under his brows, and harrumphing.
"It is at my perr-sonal request," growls. he, "that I have been purr-meeted tae bestow a disteenction that should rightly have come from Her Majesty's ain — own — gracious hands."
He reached up, and I felt a sudden keen pain in my left tit as he stuck a pin in it — I gasped and looked down, and there it was, on its ribbon, the shabby-looking little bronze cross against my jacket; at first I didn't even recognise it, and then Lady Canning was leading the clapping, and Campbell was pumping my right hand and staring at me with his brows down.
"The Order o' the Victoria Cross," says he, and then he added, "Flashman …", but there he stopped and shook his head. "Aye," says he, and grinned at me — and God knows he didn't often grin, that one, and went on shaking his head and my hand, and the clapping and laughter rang in my ears.
I couldn't speak; I was red in the face, I knew, and almost in tears, as they clustered round me, Mansfield and Macdonald and the rest of them, and Billy slapping me on the back (and then scribbling quickly in his book and sticking it in his pocket) and I was trembling and wanted ever so much to sit down — but what I was thinking was, by God, you don't deserve it, you know, you shifty old bastard of a Flashy — not if it's courage they're after … but if they hand out medals for luck, and survival through sheer funk, and suffering ignobly borne … well, grab 'em with both hands, my boy — and then, in the august presence of the Governor-General and the Commander-in-Chief, someone started to sing, "For he's a jolly good fellow", and there were happy faces all round me, singing, until Canning led me out on to the verandah, and in the garden there seemed to be crowds of soldiers, and civilians — bearded Sikhs and ugly little Goorkhas, Devil's Own and Highlanders, artillery-men and sappers, chaps in white coats and sun-helmets, ladies in garden-party dresses, and as Canning waved to them someone shouted "Hip-hip-hip!" and the crashing "Hurrah!" sounded three times and a tiger — and I looked out at them through a mist of tears, and beyond them to the Gwalior guns and the Cawnpore barricade and the burning lines of Meerut and the battery reek of Balaclava and the bloody snow of Gandamack, and I thought, by God, how little you know, or you wouldn't be cheering me. You'd be howling for my blood, you honest, sturdy asses — and then again, maybe you wouldn't, for if you knew the truth about me, you wouldn't believe it.
"What a gratifying experience to relate to your children, colonel," says Canning, and on the other side Lady Canning smiled at me and says: "And to Lady Flashman." .
I mumbled yes, indeed, so it would be; then I noticed that she was looking at me a trifle arch, and cudgelled my wits to think why — she couldn't be wanting to get off with me, not with Canning there — and then her last words sank in, my legs went weak, and I believe I absolutely said, "Hey?"
They both laughed politely at my bewilderment, Canning looking fond reproval at her. "That must be under the rose, my dear, you know", says he. "But of course we should have informed you, colonel, privately." He beamed at me. "In addition to the highest decoration for valour, which has been justly bestowed on many gallant officers in the late campaigns, Her Majesty wished to distinguish your service by some additional mark of favour. She has therefore been graciously pleased to create you a Knight of the Bath."
I suppose I was already numb with shock, for I didn't taint, or cry "Whoops!" or even stand gaping at the man in disbelief. In fact, I blew my nose, and what I was thinking as I mopped away my emotion was: by God, she's got no taste, that woman. I mean, who but little Vicky would have thought to pile a knighthood on top of the V.C., all at one go? It didn't seem scarcely decent — but, by God, wasn't it bloody famous! For over everything the words were revolving in my mind in a golden haze —"Sir Harry Flashman, V.C." It wasn't believable … Sir Harry … Sir Harry and Lady Flashman … Flashman, V.C… my stars, it had come to this, and when least expected — oh, that astonishing little woman … I remembered how she'd blushed and looked bashful when she'd hung the Queen's Medal on me years before, and I'd thought, aye, cavalry whiskers catch 'em every time … and still did, apparently. Who'd have thought it?
"Well … God save the Queen," says I, reverently.
There was no taking it in properly at the time, of course, or indeed in the hours that followed; they remain just a walking dream, with "Sir Harry Flashman, V.C." blazing in front of my eyes, through all the grinning faces and back-slapping and cheering and adulation — all for the V.C., of course, for t'other thing was to remain a secret, Canning said, until I got home. There was a great dinner that evening, at the Fort, with booze galore and speeches and cheering, and chaps rolling under the table, and they poured me on to the Calcutta train that night in a shocking condition. I didn't wake up till noon the following day, with a fearful head; it took me another night to get right again, but on the next morning I had recovered, and ate a hearty breakfast, and felt in capital shape. Sir Harry Flashman, V.C. — I could still hardly credit it. They'd be all over me at home, and Elspeth would go into the wildest ecstasies at being "My lady", and be insufferable to her friends and tradesmen, and adoringly grateful to me — she might even stay faithful permanently, you never knew … I fairly basked in my thoughts, grinning happily out at the disgusting Indian countryside in the sunrise, reflecting that with luck I'd never see or hear or smell it again, after this, and then to beguile the time I fished in my valise for something to read, and came on the book Cardigan had sent to Elspeth — what could have possessed Jim the Bear, who detested me, to send me a present?