Discworld 30 - Monstrous Regiment (36 page)

 
 
  
‘And?’ said Froc, but the officer on his left leaned over and whispered something to him.
‘Oh, Wrigglesworth. Ha, yes,’ said Froc. ‘Of course. Fine officer, Wrigglesworth. Keen on,
er—’
‘Amateur dramatics,’ a colonel supplied, in a noncommittal voice.
‘Right! Right! Ver’ good for morale, that sort of thing. Hrumph.’
‘With respect, general, I think I can offer a way through?’ said another man with a
general’s rank.
‘Really, Bob?’ said Froc. ‘Oh, well . . . feel free. The record will show that I am yielding
the floor to General Kzupi.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, I thought these proceedings were not being recorded?’ said Clogston.
‘Yes, yes, of course, thank you so much for jogging my memory,’ said Froc. ‘However, if
we were to have a record, that is what it would show. Bob?’
‘Ladies,’ said General Kzupi, flashing the squad a glossy smile. ‘And you too, of course,
Lieutenant Blouse, and you too, er . . .’ he looked quizzically at Maladict, who stared straight
back ‘. . . sir?’ General Kzupi, though, was not to be derailed by an eyeballing vampire, even
one that couldn’t stand still. ‘Firstly, may I offer on behalf of all of us, I think, our thanks for
the incredible job you have done? A splendid effort. But, sadly, the world we live in has
certain . . . rules, you understand? To be frank, the problem here is not that you are women.
As such, that is. But you persist in maintaining that you are. You see? We can’t have that.’
‘You mean if we put on uniforms again, and swaggered around belching and saying “har
har, fooled you all” that would be all right?’ said Polly.
‘Perhaps I could help?’ said yet another voice. Froc looked along the table.
‘Ah, Brigadier Stoffer. Yes?’
‘This is all rather damn silly, general—’
‘Hrumph!’ said Froc.
‘What say?’ said Stoffer, looking puzzled.
‘There are ladies present, brigadier. That is, ahah, the problem.’
‘Damn right!’ said Tonker.
‘Understood, general. But the party was led by a man, am I right?’
‘Lieutenant Blouse tells me he is a man, sir,’ said Clogston. ‘Since he is an officer and a
gentleman, I will take his word for it.’
‘Well, then, problem solved. These young ladies helped him. Smuggled him in, and so
forth. Assisted him. Fine traditions of Borogravian womanhood and all that. Not soldiers at
all. Give the man a big medal and make him a captain, and all this’ll be forgotten.’
‘Excuse me one moment, general,’ said Clogston. ‘I will consult with what we would call
the accused if anyone would enlighten me as to the precise nature of the charges.’
He walked over to the squad and lowered his voice. ‘I think this is the best offer you’re
going to get,’ he said. ‘I can probably get the money, too. How about it?’
‘It’s completely ridiculous!’ said Blouse. ‘They showed tremendous courage and
determination. All this would not have been possible without them.’

 
 
  
‘Yes, Blouse, and you would be allowed to say that,’ said Clogston. ‘Stoffer has come up
with quite a clever idea. Everyone gets what they want, but you just have to avoid any
suggestion that you were in fact acting as soldiers. Brave Borogravian women going to the
aid of a gallant hero, that works. You could take the view that these are changing times, and
you are helping them change faster. Well?’
The squad exchanged glances.
‘Er . . . I’d be happy about that,’ Shufti ventured. ‘If everyone else is.’
‘So you’d have your baby without a husband?’ said Polly.
‘He’s probably dead anyway, whoever he was,’ sighed Shufti.
‘The general has influence,’ said Clogston. ‘He might be able to—’
‘No, I’m not buying into this,’ said Tonker. ‘It’s a gooey little lie. To hell with them.’
‘Lofty?’ said Polly.
Lofty struck a match, and stared at it. She could find matches anywhere.
There was another crump, high above.
‘Maladict?’ said Polly.
‘Llet tthe bball rroll. II ssay nno.’
‘And you, lieutenant?’ Clogston asked.
‘It’s dishonourable,’ said Blouse.
‘Could be problems for you if you don’t accept, though. With your career.’
‘I suspect I haven’t got one, major, whatever happens. No, I will not live a lie. I know,
now, that I’m not a hero. I’m just someone who wanted to be one.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Polly. ‘Er . . . Jade?’
‘One of der trolls what arrested me hit me with his club an’ I frew a table at him,’ said
Jade, looking at the floor.
‘That was mistreatment of a pris—’ Blouse began, but Clogston said: ‘No, lieutenant, I
know something about trolls. They are very . . . physical. So . . . he’s a rather attractive lad, is
he, private?’
‘I got a good feelin’ about him,’ said Jade, blushing. ‘So I don’t want to be sent home.
Nothin’ for me there, anyway.’
‘Private Igor . . . ina?’ said Blouse.
‘I think we ought to give in,’ said Igorina.
‘Why?’ said Polly.
‘Because Wazzer’s dying.’ She raised a hand. ‘No, please don’t cluster round. Give her air,
at least. She hasn’t eaten. I can’t get any water down her at all.’ She looked up with red-
rimmed eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do!’
‘The Duchess talked to her,’ said Polly. ‘You all heard. And you know what we saw down
in the crypt.’

 
 
  
‘And I said I don’t believe any of that!’ said Tonker. ‘It’s her . . . mind. They made her
crazy enough. And we were all so tired, we’d see anything. All that stuff about wanting to get
to the High Command? Well, here they are, and I don’t see any miracles. Do you?’
‘I don’t think she would have wanted us to give in,’ said Polly.
No.
‘Did you hear that?’ said Polly, although she wasn’t certain that the word had turned up in
her head via her ears.
‘No, I didn’t!’ said Tonker. ‘I didn’t hear it!’
‘I don’t think we can accept this compromise, sir,’ said Polly to the major.
‘Then I won’t,’ said Shufti promptly. ‘I don’t . . . this wasn’t . . . I only came because . . .
but . . . look, I’m staying with you. Erm . . . what can they do to us, sir?’
‘Put you in a cell for a long time, probably,’ said the major. ‘They’re being kind to you—’
‘Kind?’ said Polly.
‘Well, they think they’re being kind,’ said Clogston. ‘And they could be a lot worse. And
there’s a war on. They don’t want to look bad, but Froc didn’t get to be a general by being
nice. I have to warn you about that. You’re still turning this down?’
Blouse looked round at his men. ‘I believe we are, major.’
‘Good,’ said Clogston, winking.
Good.
Clogston went back to his table and shuffled his papers. ‘The allegedly accused, sir,
regretfully turn down the offer.’
‘Yes, I thought they might,’ said Froc. ‘In that case, they are to be returned to the cells.
They will be dealt with later.’ Plaster showered down as something hit the outer wall again.
‘This has gone quite far enough!’
‘We won’t be sent to the cells!’ Tonker shouted.
‘Then that is mutiny, sir!’ said Froc. ‘And we know how to deal with that!’
‘Excuse me, general, does that then mean the tribunal does agree that these ladies are
soldiers?’ said Clogston.
General Froc glared at him. ‘Don’t you try to tie me up with procedural nonsense, major!’
‘It’s hardly nonsense, sir, it’s the very basis—’
Duck.
The word was the faintest, merest suggestion in Polly’s head, but it also seemed to be
wired to her central nervous system. And not only hers. The squad ducked, Igorina throwing
herself across her patient’s body.
Half the ceiling collapsed. The chandelier fell down and exploded in a kaleidoscope of
splintering prisms. Mirrors shattered. And then there was, by comparison at least, silence,
broken only by the thud of a few late bits of plaster and the tinkle of a tardy shard.
Now. . .
Footsteps approached the big doors at the end of the room, where the guards were just
struggling to their feet. The doors swung open.

 
 
  
Jackrum stood there, shining like the sunset. The light glinted off his shako badge, polished
to the point where it would blind the incautious with its terrible gleam. His face was red, but
his jacket was redder, and his sergeant’s sash was the pure quill of redness, its very essence,
the red of dying stars and dying soldiers. Blood dripped off the cutlasses thrust into his belt.
The guards, still shaking, tried to lower their pikes to bar his way.
‘Do not try it, lads, I beg you,’ said Jackrum. ‘Upon my oath I am not a violent man, but do
you think Sergeant Jackrum is going to be stopped by a set of bleedin’ cutlery?’
The men looked at Jackrum, steaming with barely controlled rage, and then at the
astonished generals, and took an immediate decision on their own desperate initiative.
‘Good lads,’ said Jackrum. ‘With your permission, General Froc?’
He did not wait for a reply but marched forward with parade-ground precision. He came to
boot-crashing attention in front of the senior generals, still brushing plaster dust from their
uniforms, and saluted with the precision of a semaphore.
‘I beg to report, sir, that we now hold the main gates, sir! Took the liberty of putting
together a force of the Ins-and-Outs, the Side-to-Sides and the Backwards-and-Forwards, sir,
just in case, saw a big cloud o’ flame and smoke over the place, and arrived at the gates just
as your lads did. Got ‘em coming and going, sir!’
There was a general cheer, and General Kzupi leaned towards Froc. ‘In view of this
pleasing development, sir, perhaps we should hurry up and close this—’
Froc waved him into silence. ‘Jackrum, you old rogue,’ he said, leaning back in his chair.
‘I heard you were dead. How the devil are you?’
‘Fightin’ fit, sir!’ barked Jackrum. ‘Not dead at all, despite the hopes of many!’
‘Glad to hear it, man. But, while your rosy face is a welcome sight at any time, we are here
to—’
‘Fourteen miles I carried you, sir!’ Jackrum roared, sweat pouring down his face. ‘Pulled
that arrow out of your leg, sir. Sliced that devil of a captain who pushed an axe in your face,
sir, and I’m glad to see the scar’s looking well. Killed that poor sentry lad just to steal his
water bottle for you, sir. Looked into his dyin’ face, sir, for you. Never asked for nothing in
return, sir. Right, sir?’
Froc rubbed his chin and smiled. ‘Well, I seem to remember there was that little matter of
fudging some details, changing a few dates—’ he murmured.
‘Don’t give me that bleedin’ slop, sir, with respect. That wasn’t for me, that was for the
army. For the Duchess, sir. And, yeah, I see a few other gentlemen round this table who had
reason to do the same little service for me. For the Duchess, sir. And if you was to leave me
one sword I’d stand and fight any man in your army, sir, be he never so young and full of
mustard!’
In one movement he pulled a cutlass from his belt and brought it down on the paperwork
between Froc’s hands. It bit through into the wood of the table, and stayed there.
Froc didn’t flinch. Instead he looked up and said calmly, ‘Hero though you may be,
sergeant, I fear that you have gone too far.’
‘Have I gone the full fourteen miles yet, sir?’ said Jackrum.
For a moment there was no sound but that of the cutlass, vibrating to a halt. Froc breathed
out. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘What is your request, sergeant?’

Discworld 30 - Monstrous Regiment

Discworld 30 - Monstrous Regiment

 
 
  
‘I notes you have my little lads before you, sir! I’m hearing that they are in a spot of
bother, sir!’
‘The girls, Jackrum, are to be restrained in a place of safety. This is no place for them. And
that is my order, sergeant.’
‘I said to ‘em when they signed up, sir, I said: if anyone drags you away they’ll have to
drag me away, too, sir!’
Froc nodded. ‘Very loyal of you, sergeant, and very much in your character.
Nevertheless—’
‘And I have information vital to these here deliberations, sir! There is something I must tell
you, sir!’
‘Well, by all means tell us, man!’ said Froc. ‘You don’t have to take all—’
‘It requires that some of you gentlemen quit this room, sir,’ said Jackrum, desperately. He
was still at attention, still holding the salute.
‘Now you do ask too much, Jackrum,’ said Froc. ‘These are loyal officers of her grace!’
‘No doubt of it, sir! Upon my oath I am not a gossiping man, sir, but I will speak my piece
to those I choose, sir, or speak it to the world. There’s ways to do that, sir, nasty new-fangled
ways. Your choice, sir!’
At last, Froc coloured. He stood up abruptly. ‘Are you seriously telling me that you’d—’
‘This is my famous last stand, sir!’ said Jackrum, saluting again. ‘Do or die, sir!’
All eyes turned to Froc. He relaxed. ‘Oh, very well. It can’t do any harm to listen to you,
sergeant. God knows you’ve earned it. But make it quick.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘But try this again and you’ll be on the biggest fizzer you can imagine.’
‘No worry there, sir. Never been one for fizzers. I will by your leave point to certain men .
. .’
They were about half of the officers. They rose with greater or lesser protest, but rise they
did, under Froc’s sapphire glare, and filed out into the corridor.
‘General, I protest!’ said a departing colonel. ‘We are being sent out of the room like
naughty children while these . . . females are—’
‘Yes, yes, Rodney, and if our friend the sergeant doesn’t have a damn good explanation I’ll
personally turn him over to you for punishment detail,’ said Froc. ‘But he’s entitled to his last
wild charge if any man is. Go quietly, there’s a good chap, and keep the war going until we
get there. And have you finished this strange charade, sergeant?’ he added, as the last of the
officers left.
‘All but one last thing, sir,’ said Jackrum, and stamped over to the guards. They were at
attention already, but nevertheless contrived to become more attentive. ‘You lads go outside
this door,’ said the sergeant. ‘No one is to come close, understand. And I know you boys
won’t try to eavesdrop, because of what’d happen to you if I ever found that you had done so.
Off you go, hup, hup, hup!’
He shut the doors behind them and the atmosphere changed. Polly couldn’t quite detect
how, but perhaps it was that the click of the doors had said ‘This is our secret’ and everyone
present was in on it.

 
 
  
Jackrum removed his shako and laid it gently on the table in front of the general. Then he
took off his coat and handed it to Polly, saying, ‘Hold this, Perks. It’s the property of her
grace.’ He rolled up his sleeves. He relaxed his enormous red braces. And then, to Polly’s
horror if not to her surprise, he brought out his paper screw of foul chewing tobacco and his
blackened penknife.
‘Oh, I say—’ a major began, before a colleague nudged him into silence. Never had a man
cutting a wad of black tobacco been the subject of such rapt, horrified attention.
‘Things are going well outside,’ he said. ‘Shame you aren’t all out there, eh? Still, the
truth’s important too, right? And that’s what this tribunal is for, no doubt about it. It must be
important, the truth, else you wouldn’t be here, am I right? ‘course I am.’
Jackrum finished the cut, palmed the stuff into his mouth and got it comfortable in a cheek,
while the sounds of battle filtered through from outside. Then he turned and walked towards
the major who had just spoken. The man cringed a little in his chair.
‘What’ve you got to say about the truth, Major Derbi?’ said Jackrum conversationally.
‘Nothing? Well, then, what shallI say? What shall I say about a captain who turned and ran
sobbing when we came across a column of Zlobenians, deserting his own men? Shall I say
that ol’ Jackrum tripped him up and pummelled him a bit and put the fear of . . . Jackrum into
him, and he went back and ‘twas a famous victory he had that day, over two enemies, one of
them being in his own head. And he came to ol’ Jackrum again, drunk with battle, and said
more’n he ought . . .’
‘You bastard,’ said the major softly.
‘Shall I tell the truth today . . . Janet?’ said Jackrum.
The sounds of battle were suddenly much louder. They poured into the room like the water
rushing to fill a hole in the ocean floor, but all the sound in the world could not have filled
that sudden, tremendous silence.
Jackrum strolled on towards another man. ‘Good to see you here, Colonel Cumabund!’ he
said cheerfully. ‘O’ course, you were only Lieutenant Cumabund when I was under your
command. Plucky lad you were, when you led us against that detachment of Kopelies. And
then you took a nasty sword wound in the fracas, or just above, and I got you through with
rum and cold water, and found that plucky you might be, but lad you weren’t. Oh, how you
gabbled away in your feverish delirium . . . Yes, you did. That’s the truth . . . Olga.’
He stepped round the table and started to stroll along behind the officers; those he passed
stared woodenly ahead, not daring to turn, not daring to make any movement that would
attract attention.
‘You could say I know something about all of yez,’ he said. ‘Quite a lot about some of you,
just enough about most of you. A few of you, well, I could write a book.’ He paused just
behind Froc, who stiffened.
‘Jackrum, I—’ he began.
Jackrum put a hand on each of Froc’s shoulders. ‘Fourteen miles, sir. Two nights, ‘cos we
lay up by day, the patrols were that thick. Cut about pretty dreadful, you were, but you got
better nursing from me than any sawbones, I’d bet.’ He leaned forward until his mouth was
level with the general’s ear, and continued in a stage whisper: ‘What is there left about you
that I don’t know? So . . . are you really looking for the truth . . . Mildred?’
The room was a museum of waxworks. Jackrum spat on the floor.