'Well, I am all astonishment. I imagined he would bluster as ever.'
'And he left camp with some dignity, too. I called in Hairsine and told him he was to be acting serjeant-major, and Deedes treated him very decently by all accounts.'
Hervey nodded, though he had not a moment's doubt that Deedes's dismissal had been necessary. 'Well, he must have had some quality otherwise he would never have been advanced in the first instance. I imagine he felt some loyalty too, even in his exigent position.'
'That was to have been my method if it had come to it: calling on his better self to accept things for the good of the regiment. Still, it is done now.' Joynson appeared to take no satisfaction in it, however, even with Hairsine making a difference already at orderly room.
'Who is to take C Troop?'
'I've told Strickland to make his senior serjeant do duty until there's time for a proper regimental board. By then Sir Ivo should be back. I'm deuced glad Strickland postponed his leave.'
Hervey saw no reason why a board should not be held at once, but he saw no likelihood of convincing Joynson. C Troop's man would do well enough; Strickland would not have it, otherwise. 'Did the brigadier express an opinion about taking the offensive?'
'He said he would speak with Sleigh. But it seems the guns will be going in soon and Combermere's likely to want a strong cavalry presence.'
'We shall all say amen to that. It's well time the fort's guns were answered.'
The guns of two bastions in particular had caused annoyance and casualties since the army had first appeared before Bhurtpore, yet could not be answered with any effect at the extreme range of the field artillery, nor even, indeed, with the long guns of the siege train yet. Only when the engineers had sapped their way to within a thousand yards or so, and built up redoubts, could the gunners try to dislodge the enemy's cannon. And dislodge them they must, for the siege guns could not pound away with the bastions commanding the ground so. A siege was an occasion when Adye's general injunction against counter-battery fire did not hold.
'I await orders on this keenly, too, said Joynson. 'Shall we take a ride to look at the ground?'
Hervey had never before ridden ground with the major, and he was eager to do so. He wanted to learn how good was his eye for country compared with that for administration, for in spite of the banter of the camp at Agra, he was certain that the cavalry must be more active in this siege than the textbooks allowed. He had studied the accounts of Lord Lake's failure. He was certain that if the cavalry became a mere arm of the commissary then the siege would go the same way as Lord Lake's.
They rode with only their covermen, Hervey marked by Corporal Wainwright, Joynson by the senior corporal. The major was not one for panoply, and in any case he scarcely expected trouble within the ring of scarlet around the fortress.
Everywhere was purposeful activity. Hervey could not remember scenes the like since San Sebastian, perhaps Badajoz, even. Columns of sepoys tramped to and from great breastworks thrown up in a matter of days like molehills on greensward. Guns and ammunition wagons lumbered forward continuously, and empty wagons passed them on their way back from dumping powder, shot and shell at the batteries in anticipation of the great pounding to come. And the engineers, the sappers and miners, who opened the way for the infantry, whether by bridge or breach, worked oblivious to their surroundings, and to the enemy's guns which periodically sent hissing spheres of iron arching into the sky, then to throw up fountains of earth where they struck before bowling along the ground to knock down men and horses like skittles if they didn't look sharp.
Hervey had observed the same curious detachment in the Peninsula, the sappers working as calmly as if they were navigators at an English cut. It was a cool courage, theirs, not one fired by dash or steadied by the touch of cloth. He wondered if it could endure as the guns began to take their toll. Sapping to the foot of the walls would be hot work indeed.
'Do you think Durjan Sal doubts the outcome, seeing all this, Hervey?' asked the major suddenly. They had ridden for ten minutes and more in silence.
Hervey was unsure what he had heard. 'You mean will he ask for terms?'
'No. I mean, does he consider those walls impregnable? Does he believe we shall just go away? You could scarce call firing from those walls much of a counter-action.'
'I confess to being surprised,' replied Hervey, watching warily as another ball arched from a distant bastion towards them.
Joynson watched it too. It hit an outcrop of solid rock a hundred yards ahead of them, sending a shower of deadly shards in all directions.
'But he must think those walls solid enough. And, in truth, he might be right. I've not seen their like before, I think.'
'Do you know why it is the engineers can't tunnel?' Joynson supposed only that the ground was too hard.
'The distance, pure and simple, is my understanding. They can't get close enough to begin a gallery.'
'I can't say as I understand. If they can sap forward, why can't they then tunnel?'
'Because after two hundred yards there isn't air enough to breathe, or to make for a good explosion.'
They rode on a further half-mile in silence, or rather without a word, for Durjan Sal's guns were now speaking continually. Three of them fired at once from the long-necked bastion, the report so loud that both men looked its way. Hervey saw the homing shot first - low and straight, not plunging like the others. 'She comes our way,’ he said warily.
Neither man moved a muscle more than had they been on parade. It was as unthinkable as it was pointless.
Eighteen pounds of iron grazed the rocky outcrop fifty yards to their right then ricocheted half a right angle, but chippings the size of musket balls shot their way, drawing blood from Hervey's hand and his mare's shoulder.
Joynson, on his nearside, but half a length in front, cursed as his shako was all but knocked from his head, the silver cross beneath the oilskin having stopped a stone bullet. He didn't see his mare's wound at first, looking about her legs and flanks for marks. 'Oh, God!' he cried suddenly, jumping from the saddle.
Blood spurted from her breast as if from a stirrup pump. Joynson took off his silk stock and pressed it to the wound - a neat slice like the sabre's work. 'An artery, Hervey, for sure,' he groaned.
If it were an artery there was nothing that they -or even David Sledge - could do. But Hervey got down and took the bandages from his valise.
Corporal Wainwright did likewise, and Joynson's coverman the same. But Joynson's sleeves were soaked through, and the pool of blood at the mare's feet was spreading rapidly.
'It's no good, Eustace.' But Hervey knew the major had bought the mare for his wife years ago.
Conceding would be a doubly painful business. 'Give me a pistol!’
Hervey took one of the flintlocks from his saddle holster, already loaded, tamped. He held it out to him. 'Shall I do it while you steady her?’
'No, Hervey. It wouldn't do,’ said Joynson simply, taking the pistol and letting go the silk stock.
Nevertheless, Hervey took out his second pistol and made ready. He had no idea if the major had ever shot a horse. It was the Devil's own job even without sentiment.
'Offsaddle her, will you, Hervey,' said Joynson resolutely.
When it was done, the major wiped his hands on his overalls, rubbed the little mare's nose, cocked the pistol and put the muzzle gently but firmly into the fossa above her left eye, angling it so as to aim at the bottom of her right ear.