wouldn’t worry about that, old chap,’ said Maladict, and flashed a little smile. ‘The
way things are going around here, Igor’s probably a washerwoman in disguise.’
Polly did the laundry, in the end. She wasn’t sure that she’d be able to dodge Molly a
second time, and there wasn’t that much of it. Afterwards she hung it in front of the fire,
which was roaring.
The horse had been surprisingly good, but not as surprising as Blouse’s reaction to the
scubbo. He had sat there in his evening dress uniform - wearing special clothes just to sit
down and eat all by yourself was a new one on Polly - and had yummed it up and sent her
back with the bowl for more. The meat had been boiled white and there was scum on the top.
The squad wondered what kind of life an officer could have led that inclined him to like
scubbo.
‘Dun’t know much about him,’ said Scallot, upon questioning. ‘He’s been here two weeks,
frettin’ to get to the war. Brought a whole cartload of books with him, I heard. Looks like a
typical rupert to me. They were all behind the door when the chins were handed out. A
sergeant who went through said he’s not really a soldier at all, just some wonk from
headquarters that’s good at sums.’
‘Oh, great,’ said Maladict, who was brewing his coffee by the fire. The little engine
gurgled and hissed.
‘I don’t think he can see very well without his glasses,’ said Polly. ‘But he’s very, er,
polite.’
‘Not been a rupert for long, then,’ said Scallot. ‘They’re more “Hey there! You! Damn
your eyes, fwah fwah fwah!” I seen your sergeant before, though, old Jackrum. Been
everywhere, he has. Everyone knows old Jackrum. He was with us in the snow up at
Ibblestarn.’
‘How many people did he eat?’ said Maladict, to general laughter. The dinner had been
good, and there had still been enough sherry for a glass each.
‘Let’s just say I heard he didn’t come down much thinner than when he went up,’ said
Scallot.
‘And Corporal Strappi?’ said Polly.
‘Never seen him before, either,’ said Scallot. ‘Cross-grained little bugger. Political, I’d say.
Why’s he gone and left you here? Got a nice cushy bed in the inn, has he?’
‘I hope he’s not g-going to be our sergeant,’ said Wazzer.
‘Him? Why?’ said Scallot.
Polly volunteered the events of earlier in the evening. To her surprise, Scallot laughed.
‘They’re trying to get rid of the old bugger again, are they?’ he said. ‘That’s a laugh! Bless
you, it’ll take more’n a bunch of gawains and rodneys to lever Jackrum out of his own army.
Why, he’s been court-martialled twice. He got off both times. And d’you know he once saved
General Froc’s life? He’s been everywhere, got the goods on everyone, knows more strings
than me and I know a good few, mark my words. If he wants to march with you tomorrow he
will, and no skinny little rupert’ll get in his way.’
‘So what was a man like that doing as a recruiting officer?’ said Maladict sharply.
‘ ‘cos he got his leg cut open in Zlobenia and bit the sawbones who tried to look at it when
the wound went bad, clever dick,’ retorted Scallot. ‘Cleaned it out himself with maggots and
honey, then drank a pint of brandy and sewed himself up and lay on his bed with a fever for a
week. But the general got him, I heard, came and visited him while he was too weak to
protest and told him he was going on the drumming for a year and no argument. Not even
Froc hisself would hand him his papers, not after Jackrum’d carried him on his back for
fourteen miles through enemy lines—’
The door swung open and Sergeant Jackrum walked in, tucking his hands into his belt.
‘Don’t bother to salute, lads,’ he said, as they turned guiltily. ‘Evening, Threeparts. Nice to
see nearly all of you again, you artful ol’ god-dodger. Where’s Corporal Strappi?’
‘Haven’t seen him all
way things are going around here, Igor’s probably a washerwoman in disguise.’
Polly did the laundry, in the end. She wasn’t sure that she’d be able to dodge Molly a
second time, and there wasn’t that much of it. Afterwards she hung it in front of the fire,
which was roaring.
The horse had been surprisingly good, but not as surprising as Blouse’s reaction to the
scubbo. He had sat there in his evening dress uniform - wearing special clothes just to sit
down and eat all by yourself was a new one on Polly - and had yummed it up and sent her
back with the bowl for more. The meat had been boiled white and there was scum on the top.
The squad wondered what kind of life an officer could have led that inclined him to like
scubbo.
‘Dun’t know much about him,’ said Scallot, upon questioning. ‘He’s been here two weeks,
frettin’ to get to the war. Brought a whole cartload of books with him, I heard. Looks like a
typical rupert to me. They were all behind the door when the chins were handed out. A
sergeant who went through said he’s not really a soldier at all, just some wonk from
headquarters that’s good at sums.’
‘Oh, great,’ said Maladict, who was brewing his coffee by the fire. The little engine
gurgled and hissed.
‘I don’t think he can see very well without his glasses,’ said Polly. ‘But he’s very, er,
polite.’
‘Not been a rupert for long, then,’ said Scallot. ‘They’re more “Hey there! You! Damn
your eyes, fwah fwah fwah!” I seen your sergeant before, though, old Jackrum. Been
everywhere, he has. Everyone knows old Jackrum. He was with us in the snow up at
Ibblestarn.’
‘How many people did he eat?’ said Maladict, to general laughter. The dinner had been
good, and there had still been enough sherry for a glass each.
‘Let’s just say I heard he didn’t come down much thinner than when he went up,’ said
Scallot.
‘And Corporal Strappi?’ said Polly.
‘Never seen him before, either,’ said Scallot. ‘Cross-grained little bugger. Political, I’d say.
Why’s he gone and left you here? Got a nice cushy bed in the inn, has he?’
‘I hope he’s not g-going to be our sergeant,’ said Wazzer.
‘Him? Why?’ said Scallot.
Polly volunteered the events of earlier in the evening. To her surprise, Scallot laughed.
‘They’re trying to get rid of the old bugger again, are they?’ he said. ‘That’s a laugh! Bless
you, it’ll take more’n a bunch of gawains and rodneys to lever Jackrum out of his own army.
Why, he’s been court-martialled twice. He got off both times. And d’you know he once saved
General Froc’s life? He’s been everywhere, got the goods on everyone, knows more strings
than me and I know a good few, mark my words. If he wants to march with you tomorrow he
will, and no skinny little rupert’ll get in his way.’
‘So what was a man like that doing as a recruiting officer?’ said Maladict sharply.
‘ ‘cos he got his leg cut open in Zlobenia and bit the sawbones who tried to look at it when
the wound went bad, clever dick,’ retorted Scallot. ‘Cleaned it out himself with maggots and
honey, then drank a pint of brandy and sewed himself up and lay on his bed with a fever for a
week. But the general got him, I heard, came and visited him while he was too weak to
protest and told him he was going on the drumming for a year and no argument. Not even
Froc hisself would hand him his papers, not after Jackrum’d carried him on his back for
fourteen miles through enemy lines—’
The door swung open and Sergeant Jackrum walked in, tucking his hands into his belt.
‘Don’t bother to salute, lads,’ he said, as they turned guiltily. ‘Evening, Threeparts. Nice to
see nearly all of you again, you artful ol’ god-dodger. Where’s Corporal Strappi?’
‘Haven’t seen him all
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