MR 21

[KingSize]

an Igor. We know about this sort of thing. And my needlework ith
second to none.’
‘A woman?’ said the major.
Polly sighed. ‘We all are, sir. Really women. Not just dressed up as
women. And
right now I don’t want to put any trousers on because then I’d be a
woman dressed up
as a man dressed up as a woman dressed up as a man, and then I’d be so
confused I
wouldn’t know how to swear. And I want to swear right now, sir, very
much.’
The major turned stiffly to Blouse. ‘Did you know about this,
lieutenant?’ he
barked.
‘Well . . . yes, sir. Eventually. But even so, sir, I would—’
This cell was an old guardroom. It was damp, and had two creaking
bunks.
‘On the whole,’ said Tonker, ‘I think it was better when we were
locked up by the
enemy.’
‘There’s a grille in the ceiling,’ said Shufti.
‘Not big enough to climb through,’ said Polly.
‘No, but we can hang ourselves before they do it.’
‘I’m told it’s a very painful way to die,’ said Polly.
‘Who by?’ said Tonker.
Occasionally the sounds of battle filtered through the narrow window.
Mostly it
was yells; often it was screams. Fun was being had.
Igorina sat staring at her hands. ‘What’s wrong with these?’ she said.
‘Didn’t I do a
good job on that arm? But no, they’re afraid I might touch their
privates.’
‘Perhaps you could have promised to operate only on officers,’ said
Tonker. No
one laughed, and probably no one would have bothered to run for it if
the door had
swung open. It was a proud and noble thing to escape from the enemy,
but if you were
escaping from your own side, where would you escape to?
On one of the bunks, Wazzer slept like a hibernating bear. You v had
to watch her
for some time to see her breathe.
‘What can they do to us?’ said Shufti nervously. ‘You know . . .
really do to us?’
‘We were wearing men’s clothes,’ said Polly.
‘But that’s only a beating.’
‘Oh, they’ll find some other stuff, believe you me,’ said Tonker.
‘Besides, who
knows we’re here?’
‘But we got them out of prison! Our side!’
Polly sighed. ‘That’s why, Shufti. No one wants to know that a bunch
of girls
dressed up as soldiers and broke into a big fort and let out half an
army. Everyone
knows females can’t do that. Neither side wants us here, understand?’
‘On a battlefield like this, who’ll worry about a few more bodies?’
said Tonker.
‘Don’t say that! Lieutenant Blouse spoke up for us,’ said Shufti.
‘What, Daphne?’ said Tonker. ‘Hah! Just another body. They’ve probably
locked
him up somewhere, just like us.’
There was a distant cheering, which went on for some time.
‘Sounds like they’ve got the building,’ said Polly.
‘Hooray for us,’ said Tonker, and spat.
After a while, a small hatch was opened in the door and a silent man
handed
through a big can of scubbo and a tray of horse-bread. It wasn’t bad
scubbo or, at
least, not bad scubbo by the standards of bad scubbo. There was some
discussion
about whether being fed meant you weren’t going to be executed, until
someone
pointed out the tradition of the Last Hearty Meal.
Igorina gave it as her cultural opinion that the stew was not only
hearty but lungy
and livery too. But at least it was hot.
A couple of hours later a can of saloop was handed through, with some
mugs. This
time, the guard winked.
An hour after that, the door was unlocked. A young man in a major’s
uniform
stepped inside.
Oh well, let’s go on as we started, Polly thought. She leapt to her
feet. ‘Squaddd . .
. tennn . . . hut!’
With reasonable speed, the squad at least managed to stand up straight
and in a
line. The major acknowledged her by tapping the peak of his cap with a
stick. It was
definitely thinner than an inch.
‘Stand easy . . . corporal, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Yessir.’ That sounded promising.
‘I am Major Clogston, of the Provost’s office,’ said the major. ‘And
I’d like you to
tell me all about it. About everything. I will make notes, if you
don’t mind.’
‘What’s this about?’ said Tonker.
‘Ah, you’d be . . . Private Halter,’ said Clogston. ‘I’ve already
spoken at length to
Lieutenant Blouse.’ He turned, nodded at the guard hovering in the
doorway, and shut
the door. He also closed the hatch.
‘You are going to be tried,’ he said, sitting down on the spare bunk.
‘The politicos
want you to be tried by a full Nugganatic court, but that would be
tricky here, and no
one wants this to go on for any longer than it has to. Besides, there
has been an . . .
unusual event. Someone has sent a communique to General Froc asking
about you all
by name. At least,’ he added, ‘by your surnames.’
‘Was that Lord Rust, sir?’
‘No, it was someone called William de Worde. I don’t know if you’ve
run across
his newspaper thing? We’re wondering how he knew you were captured.’
‘Well, we didn’t tell him!’ said Polly.
‘It makes things a little . . . tricky,’ said Clogston. ‘Although,
from your point of
view, a lot more hopeful. There are those members of the army who are,
let us say,
considering the future of Borogravia. That is, they would like there
to be one. My job
is to present your case to the tribunal.’
‘Is that a court martial?’ said Polly.
‘No, they’re not that stupid. Calling it a court martial would
indicate that they
accept that you are soldiers.’
‘You did,’ said Shufti.
‘De facto is not dejure,’ said Clogston. ‘Now, as I said . . . tell me
your story, Miss
Perks.’
‘That’s Corporal, thank you!’
‘I apologize for the lapse. Now . . . go on . . .’ Clogston opened his
bag and
produced a pair of half-moon spectacles, which he put on, and took out
a pencil and
something white and square. ‘Whenever you’re ready?’ he added.
‘Sir, are you really going to write on a jam sandwich?’ said Polly.
‘What?’ The major looked down, and laughed. ‘Oh. No. Excuse me. I
really
mustn’t miss meals. Blood sugar, you know . . .’
‘Only it’s oozing, sir. Don’t mind us. We’ve eaten.’
It took an hour, with many interruptions and corrections, and two more
sandwiches. The major used up quite a lot of notebook, and
occasionally had to stop
and stare at the ceiling.
‘. . . and then we were thrown in here,’ said Polly, sitting back.
‘Pushed, really,’ said Igorina. ‘Nudged.’ ]
‘Mmm,’ said Clogston. ‘You say Corporal Strappi, as you knew him,
was . . .
suddenly very ill at the thought of going into battle?’
‘Yessir.’
‘And in the tavern in Pliin you really kneed Prince Heinrich in the
fracas?’
‘In or about the fracas, sir. And I didn’t know it was him at the
time, sir.’
‘I see you haven’t mentioned the attack on the hilltop where,
according to
Lieutenant Blouse, your prompt action got the enemy code book . . .’
‘Not really worth mentioning, sir. We didn’t do much with it.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Because of you and that nice man from the newspaper
the
alliance has had two regiments trotting around in the mountains after
some guerrilla
leader called “Tiger”. Prince Heinrich insisted, and is in fact in
command. He is, you
could say, a sore loser. Very sore, according to rumour.’
‘The newspaper writer believed all that stuff?’ said Polly, amazed.
‘I don’t know, but he certainly wrote it down. You say Lord Rust
offered to let you
all go home quietly?’
‘Yessir.’
‘And the consensus was that he could . . .’
‘Stick it up his jumper, sir.’
‘Oh, yes. I couldn’t read my own writing. J . . . U . . . M . . .’
Clogston carefully
wrote the word in capital letters, and then said: ‘I am not saying
this, I am not here,
but some . . . senior . . . people on our side are wondering if you
would just quietly go
. . . ?’
The question hung in the air like a corpse from a beam.
‘I’ll put that down as “jumper” too, then, shall I?’ said Clogston.
‘Some of us have got nowhere to go to,’ said Tonker.
‘Or no one to go with,’ said Shufti.
‘We haven’t done anything wrong,’ said Polly.
‘Jumper it is, then,’ said the major. He folded up his little
spectacles and sighed.
‘They won’t even tell me what charges are going to be made.’
‘Being Bad Girls,’ said Tonker. ‘Who are we fooling, sir? The enemy
wanted just
to be quietly rid of us, and the general wants the same thing. That’s
the trouble about
the good guys and the bad guys. They’re all guys!’
‘Would we have got a medal, sir, if we’d been men?’ Shufti demanded.
‘Yep. Certainly. And Blouse would have been promoted on the spot, I
imagine.
But right now we’re at war, and this might not be the time—’
‘—to thank a bunch of Abominable women?’ Polly suggested.
Clogston smiled. ‘I was going to say “to lose concentration”. It’s the
political
branch who are pushing for this, of course. They want to stop word
getting around.
And high command want this over quickly for the same reason.’
‘When is all this going to start?’ said Polly.
‘In about half an hour.’
‘This is stupid!’ said Tonker. ‘They’re in the middle of a war and
they’re going to
take the time to hold a trial for a few women who haven’t even done
anything
wrong?’
‘The general has insisted,’ said Clogston. ‘He wants this cleared out
of the way.’
‘And what authority has this tribunal got?’ said Polly coldly.
‘Thousands of men under arms,’ said Clogston. ‘Sorry. The trouble is,
when you
say to a general “You and whose army?” he just has to point out of the
window. But I
intend to prove that the meeting should be a court martial. You all
kissed the
Duchess? You took the shilling? I say that makes it military
business.’
‘And that’s good, is it?’
‘Well, it means there are procedures. The last Abomination from Nuggan
was
against jigsaw puzzles. They break the world into pieces, he says.
That’s making
people think, at last. The army may be crazy, but at least it’s crazy
by numbers. It’s
reliably insane. Er, your sleeping friend . . . will you leave her
here?’
‘No,’ said the squad, as one woman.
‘She needs my constant attention,’ said Igorina.
‘If we leave her she might have a sudden attack of vanishing without a
trace,’ said
Tonker.
‘We stick together,’ said Polly. ‘We don’t leave a man behind.’
The room chosen for the tribunal was a ballroom. More than half the
keep had
been taken back, Polly learned, but the distribution of ground was
erratic. The alliance
still held the central buildings, and the armoury, but were entirely
surrounded by
Borogravian forces. The current prize to fight for was the main gate
complex, which
hadn’t been built to withstand attack from inside. What was happening
out there now
was a brawl, a midnight bar fight but on a huge scale. And, since
there were various
war engines atop the towers now occupied by either side, the keep was
shooting at
itself, in the finest traditions of the circular firing squad.
The floor in here smelled of polish and chalk. Tables had been pushed
together to
make a rough semicircle. There must have been more than thirty
officers, Polly
thought. Then she saw the other tables behind the semicircles, and the
maps, and the
people scurrying in and out, and realized that this was not just about
them. This was a
war-room.
The squad were marched in, and stood at attention. Igorina had
browbeaten a
couple of guards to carry Wazzer on a stretcher. That circle of
stitches under her eye
was worth more than a colonel’s pips. No soldier wanted to be on the
wrong side of
the Igors.
They waited. Occasionally an officer would glance at them, and go back
to looking
at a map, or talking. Then Polly saw some whispering going on, heads
turned again,
and there was a drift towards the semicircle of seats. There was a
definite sense that
here was a tiresome chore that, regrettably, had to be done.
General Froc did not look directly at the squad until he had taken his
seat in the
centre of the group and adjusted his papers neatly. Even then, his eye
passed over
them quickly, as if it was afraid to stop. Polly had never seen him
before. He was a
handsome man, and still had a fine head of white hair. A scar down one
side of his
face had just missed an eye, and showed up against the wrinkles.
‘Things are moving well,’ he said, to the room at large. ‘We have just
heard that a
flying column led by the remnant of the Tenth are closing on the keep
and attacking
the main gates from outside. Someone must have seen what is happening.
The army is
on the move!’
There was a certain amount of refined cheering at this, none of it
from the squad.
The general glanced at them again.
‘Is this all of them, Clogston?’ he said.
The major, who at least had a small table to himself, stood up and
saluted. ‘No,
sir,’ he said. ‘We are awaiting—’
The doors opened again. Jade was brought in, chained between two much
larger
trolls. Maladict and Blouse trailed behind her. It seemed that in all
the rush and
confusion no one Had found any trousers for Blouse, and Maladict
looked slightly
blurred. His chains jingled constantly.
‘I object to the chains, sir,’ said Clogston.
The general held a whispered consultation with a few of the other
officers. ‘Yes,
we do not want undue formality,’ he said, nodding at the guards.
‘Remove them. You
trolls can go. I just want the guards to remain on the door. Now, let
us proceed. This
really shouldn’t take too long. Now then, you people,’ he settled
himself in his chair,
‘this really is very simple. With the exception of Lieutenant Blouse,
you will agree to
be returned to your homes and placed in the charge of a responsible
male,
understood? And no more will be said about this matter. You have
showed
considerable spirit, there is no doubt about that, but it was
misplaced. We are not
ungrateful, however. We understand that none of you is married and so
we will
present you all with suitable, indeed, with handsome dowries—’
Polly saluted. ‘Permission to speak, sir?’
Froc stared at her, and then looked pointedly at Clogston.
‘You’ll have a chance to speak later, corporal,’ said the major.
‘But what exactly have we done wrong, sir?’ said Polly. ‘They should
tell us.’
Froc looked at the far end of the row of chairs. ‘Captain?’ he said.
A short officer got to his feet. In Polly’s face, the tide of
recognition raced across
the mudflats of hatred.
‘Captain Strappi, political division, sir—’ he began, and stopped at
the groan from
the squad. When it had died away he cleared his throat, and went on:
‘Twenty-seven
Abominations have been committed under Nugganatic law, sir. I suspect
there have
been many more. Under military law, sir, we have the simple fact that
they posed as
men in order to join up. I was there, sir, and saw it all.’
‘Captain Strappi, may I congratulate you on your rapid promotion?’
said
Lieutenant Blouse.
‘Yes, indeed, captain,’ said Clogston. ‘Apparently you were a humble
corporal
only a few days ago?’
Plaster dust drifted down again as something heavy struck the wall
outside. Froc
brushed it off his paperwork.
‘Not one of ours, I hope,’ he said, to a certain amount of laughter.
‘Do go ahead,
captain.’
Strappi turned to the general. ‘As you know, sir, it is occasionally
necessary for us
in the political division to assume a lower rank in order to gain
intelligence. Covered
under the Regulations, sir,’ he added.
The look that General Froc gave him stirred a little teacup of hope in
Polly’s
breast. No one could like something like Strappi, not even a mother.
Then the general
turned back to Clogston.
‘Is this germane, major?’ he said testily. ‘We know they disguised
themselves as—
’
‘—women, sir,’ said Clogston smoothly. ‘That’s all we know, sir. Apart
from
Captain Strappi’s assertion, and I intend to suggest later that this
is tainted, I haven’t
yet heard any evidence that they have dressed in any other way.’
‘We have the evidence of our own eyes, man!’
‘Yes, sir. They’re wearing dresses, sir.’
‘And they’re practically bald!’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Clogston. He picked up a thick book, dripping with
bookmarks.
‘Book of Nuggan, sir: “It is a Beatitude unto Nuggan that An Woman
shall wear her
hair short, that the amorous propensities of men be not therefore
inflamed.”‘
‘I don’t see a lot of bald women around!’ snapped Froc.
‘Yes, sir. It is one of those utterances that people find somewhat
tricky, like the
one about not sneezing. I should say at this point, sir, that I intend
to show that
Abominations are routinely committed by all of us. We have got into
the habit of
ignoring them, in fact, which opens up an interesting debate. In any
case, short hair is
Nugganatically correct. In short, sir, and in short hair, the ladies
appear to have been
involved in nothing more than a little laundry, a kitchen accident and
the release of
your good self from the cells.’
‘I saw them!’ snarled Strappi. ‘They looked like men and they acted
like men!’
‘Why were you in the recruiting party, captain?’ said Major Clogston.
‘I would not
have thought one of those would have been a hotbed of seditious
activity?’
‘Is that a relevant question, major?’ said the general.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Clogston. ‘That’s why I asked. I don’t think
we would
wish it to be said that these ladies had not been given a fair
hearing?’
‘Said by whom?’ said Froc. ‘My officers can be relied upon to be
discreet.’
‘Said by the ladies themselves, sir?’
‘Then we must require that they do not speak to anyone!’
‘Oh, I say!’ said Blouse.
‘And how will you enforce this, sir?’ said Clogston. ‘Against these
women who,
we are agreed, stole you out of the jaws of the enemy?’
There was some muttering amongst the officers.
‘Major Clogston, did you have lunch?’ said the general.
‘No, sir.’
‘Colonel Vester said you become a little . . . erratic when you miss
meals . . .’
‘No, sir. I become tetchy, sir. But I think a little tetchiness is
called for right now. I
put a question to Captain Strappi, sir.’
‘Very well, captain, perhaps you will tell us why you were with that
recruiting
party?’ said the general wearily.
‘I was . . . investigating a soldier, sir. A non-commissioned officer.
Our attention
had been drawn to irregularities in his files, sir, and where there
are irregularities we
generally find sedition. I hesitate to talk about this, sir, because
this sergeant has been
of some service to yourself—’
‘Hrumph!’ said the general loudly. ‘This is not a matter for
discussion here, I
think.’
‘It was just that according to the files, several officers had helped
—’ Strappi went
on.
‘Hrumph! Not matters for this court, captain! Are we agreed,
gentlemen?’
‘Yes, sir, it was just that the major asked me and I—’ Strappi began,
bewildered.
‘Captain, I suggest you learn what a hrumph means!’ roared Froc.
‘So what were you looking for when you rummaged through our stuff?’
said Polly,
as Strappi shrank.
‘Mmmmmy cccccoffee!’ said Maladict. ‘Yyyyyou ssssstole mmmmmy
cccccoffee!’
‘And you ran away when you were told you were going into combat, you
little
dog’s pizzle!’ said Tonker. ‘Polly said you pissed your drawers!’
General Froc slammed his fist on the table, but Polly noticed that one
or two
officers were trying to conceal a smile. ‘These are not matters for
this inquiry!’ he
said.
‘Although, sir, one or two of them seem to me to be subjects for
investigation later
on,’ said a colonel, further along the table. ‘The personal belongings
of enlisted men
may only be searched in their presence, general. This may seem a
trivial point, but
men have mutinied over it in the past. Did you, in fact, believe
the . . . men to be
women when you did this, captain?’
Oh, say yes, please say yes, Polly thought, as Strappi hesitated.
Because when we
talk about how those cavalrymen found us so quickly, it’ll mean you
set them on a
bunch of Borogravian girls. Let’s see how that one plays in Plün! And
if you didn’t
know, then why were you rummaging?
Strappi preferred the rock to the hard place. Stone clattered down in
the courtyard
outside, and he had to raise his voice to make himself heard.
‘I was, er, generally suspicious of them, sir, because they were so
keen—’
‘Sir, I protest!’ said Clogston. ‘Keenness is not a military vice!’
‘In moderation, certainly,’ said Froc. ‘And you found evidence of some
sort, did
you?’
‘I did find a petticoat, sir,’ said Strappi, feeling his way with
care.
‘Then why didn’t you—’ Froc began, but Strappi interrupted.
‘I did serve for a while with Captain Wrigglesworth, sir,’ he said.
‘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?’