If Pringle hoped that the two men would have forgotten the challenge by the time they woke up then he was disappointed. He tried reasoning with Hatch. The ensign showed little enthusiasm for the duel, but had spoken to his friend and knew that Redman was adamant. Hatch could not really understand why. Pringle took him to see the adjutant, and Thomas made it abundantly clear that the colonel would not approve. Duelling was prohibited by the Articles of War, the strict code of military discipline imposed on the army by Horse Guards. Anyone surviving a duel would face court martial, and anyone who killed another in a duel was to be treated as a murderer.
These were hard rules to enforce, and often all witnesses somehow forgot everything when it came to giving testimony, as the regiment accepted that honour was involved. Mr Thomas made it clear that Moss would not permit this. If the young fools did not kill each other then they would certainly be dismissed. The adjutant also promised to keep quiet about the whole affair in the hope that the pair would come to their senses.
Hatch spoke again to Redman, and Pringle spent time with him as well as trying to reason with Williams. Hanley also did his best, and after a consultation they enlisted the ever affable Truscott, letting him in on the secret. Nothing worked. Redman could not remember the cause of the argument, but knew that he loathed Williams. He simply could not permit himself to back down. Williams spoke passionately about honour and defending a lady’s reputation. After a while he fell silent and simply looked stubborn and mulish.
Somehow they managed to convince them to wait. Williams in particular was a little reluctant to fight on a Sunday. They attended the church parade along with the rest of the battalion. No army chaplain was available, but Moss had pulled a few strings and secured the services of the dean of the nearest cathedral. It seemed proper to have a ceremony and ask divine blessing before the regiment went off to war. Afterwards Jenny Dobson married James Hanks in a much smaller affair conducted by the local curate, a painfully thin and lisping individual, who was very glad of his modest fee. The proper words were said and the marriage made legal, and Williams read a psalm and prayed at Dobson’s request. The old soldier had wanted someone who really believed to take part in the service, hoping this would make the bond more powerful. He had chosen Hanks for the girl, although Jenny had readily agreed. A quiet, gentle man, he would most likely be dominated by her, but at least he would be kind. Her father hoped she would respond to that and be faithful in turn. A lot of girls had worse husbands. Dobson knew that Hanks was not the father of the child growing in her belly. It did not matter, he was a good man and knew the truth.
After the ceremony there was a meal with most of the company invited. Finally, the new couple were escorted to a tent laid aside for their own use for the rest of the day – the men from it were crowded into other tents or would sleep beneath the stars. It would probably be the only taste of privacy the pair would have during their army life.
Even Williams was in no mood to think of fighting for the rest of the day. It was pleasant to have a leisurely day, although he was a little piqued when Pringle and Hanley insisted on accompanying him on a walk. In the event it was pleasant. They talked of history and books, and told stories of places they had been and people they knew. There were no chance meetings, agreeable or otherwise, and the whole country seemed to be asleep.
The next day the regiment marched off at 8.30 in the morning. The band played the inevitable ‘Girl I Left Behind Me’ and some of the men sang, changing the verse to ‘and now I’m bound for Portsmouth camp’. There was no real crowd to see them offad not been there long enough for there to be many girls left behind. The soldiers’ families walked at the rear of the column and the officers’ wives rode or travelled in carriages.
The roads were good, and though the day was hot, the regiment made good progress. Each time they came to a town the band struck up and they marched at attention, but there were never any crowds – no cheers or garlands. Soldiers were not an uncommon sight, nor an especially welcome one. The English were not fond of their army. The local belles lacked interest in regiments that did not stay long enough to flirt. Honest folk despised all redcoats as the drunks and criminals that some of them were. They took care to lock their doors and guard their livestock, both female and animal. The best the 106th could hope for in each place was the appreciation of gangs of small boys, and the sight of an old veteran standing to attention or a retired officer raising his hat. Sailors were the heroes – and usually at sea and so out of sight. Soldiers were a burden on the kingdom. Who cared that they marched off on some far-flung expedition? It would no doubt end in disaster and shame like so many others. Enthusiasm for helping the Spanish did not extend much outside London, or persuade anyone to show affection for the soldiers who would do it.
On the second day the Grenadier Company at the head of the column halted at a crossroads to permit a fine coach to pass. Moss raised his hat to the elderly occupant, who gave no more than a curt nod in response. The man’s companion, an elegantly dressed lady whose mature years were artfully concealed by her make-up, was more generous and leaned towards the window and waved a greeting. Her face was striking, and enough of her visible to hint at an excellent figure. Pringle whistled softly through his teeth.
‘The perks of wealth,’ he whispered to Hanley. ‘I wonder if I shall ever be able to afford such things?’
The ensign did not reply for a moment, and Pringle turned to see his friend staring after the swiftly departing coach.
‘I do believe that was my mother,’ he said at last. Pringle could think of no response beyond a hurried apology. Hanley was not inclined to speak of it any more.
The days of marching were long and left everyone weary. Pringle was able to persuade Hatch to move slowly and so no time was set for the meeting. There was no success in convincing Williams and Redman to relent. Although there were rumours of a quarrel, it remained a secret that a challenge had actually been issued. Yet suspicions were roused and the adjutant reminded Pringle of his earlier comments and expressed a wish that no meeting should occur.
Another distraction came on the third day, when the regiment encountered the 20th Light Dragoons, also on their way to embark at Portsmouth. Their dark blue jackets had yellow facings, and were richly decorated in front with rows of white lace which grew wider at the top, to make the men’s shoulders look bigger. Some of the officers affected pelisses, after the style of hussars. Officers and men alike wore tall black helmets with thick crests running from front to back.
‘Tarletons,’ muttered Major MacAndrews sourly. The headgear had been invented by Bloody Ban back in the American War. The Scotsman could remember the British Legion cavalry wearing the same helmets and their green uniforms as they galloped from the field at Cowpens and left the infantry stranded. MacAndrews was in a sour mood for the rest of the day, not helped by the frequent and ‘accidental’ comments by his wife and daughter as to how handsome the dragoons looked. Yet he was forced to be polite when the officers of the two regiments took lunch together at tables laid outside an inn. Moss presided, along with Lieutenant Colonel Taylor of the 20th.
There was usually a feeling of cordial loathing between different regiments in the British Army. Hostility between infantry and cavalry was even more firmly entrenched. Cavalry officers were paid more than their infantry counterparts. Their expenses were far higher, and service in the mounted regiments was almost exclusively confined to the rich and well connected. Still, the 20th’s commander was a genial man, and showed particular delight at the discovery that Pringle had gone to Oxford. Taylor had been at Christ Church and the two managed to discover a few mutual acquaintances and common haunts.
Amid the toasts and laughter the usual jokes and insults were exchanged. Pringle told Hanley the story of the cavalry officer who was so stupid that even his fellow officers noticed it. Williams chipped in to suggest that that one had first been told by Julius Caesar. The dragoons responded with jibes about yokels who had to walk everywhere, and dressed up pretending to be soldiers.
The dragoons moved on that evening. The 106th stayed where they were, but paraded to salute the cavalry as they passed. Ironic cheers went up when the third squadron of the 20th marched out on foot. Space was limited on the transport ships, and they were supposed to receive horses when they landed in Spain. Nothing delighted infantrymen more than watching cavalrymen marching in their awkward boots and tight breeches. The sergeants of the 106th gave the men a few moments before barking out the orders to be quiet.
The battalion rested for three hours, to give the cavalry time to move on. Most of the men were allowed time off, but the adjutant insisted that the recruit platoon did an hour’s drill. On this occasion he watched as Redman ordered them through their paces. This he did with some competence. Afterwards, Hanley felt this was a good opportunity to talk to his fellow ensign.
‘Well done, John. I felt that even I knew what was happening some of the time.’ He offered Redman his hand, and the latter took it after a moment.
‘Well, some of the time is at least a start.’
‘Nonsensical, really, that I am senior to you, and yet they would scarcely let me give orders to a single sentry.’ Hanley was doing his best to be affable. Even sober, Redman was touchy and disliked any hint that he could be inferior.
‘Well, if all of us had influence.’ Redman’s tone was sharp.
‘Had is the word. The connection which got me my commission has now been permanently severed. I have no friends outside the regiment. I even have to survive on my pay!’ As soon as he said it Hanley realised that that was a mistake. As far as he knew Redman’s family gave him only the tiniest allowance and this caused him shame. Fortunately they had walked out of earshot of any of the men.
‘Money is not everything.’ There was no conviction in Redman’s voice, but pride and suspicion.
‘At least you have experience and talent.’ Hanley decided that flattery might work if he could appear sincere. ‘In war, advancement is open to the brave. Personally, I’ll be lucky not to trip over my own sword, but you could easily make a name for yourself.’
‘I will do my duty,’ said Redman defensively. After a while he added, ‘As I am sure will you.’
Oh well, all or nothing, thought Hanley. ‘Yet all that will go when you kill Williams.’
‘He has a chance in a duel.’
‘Oh, think, man. He’s just some lump of a religious clod. I’d back you any day with sword of pistol. He might be dangerous with a cudgel, but a gentleman’s weapons . . . ?’
‘Williams is your friend.’ The suspicion had returned.
‘He is. Well, I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor fool. It’s a bit like having a dog.’ He grinned and was pleased when Redman joined in. ‘On the whole I’d prefer it if he were still alive. I’d also prefer to go to Spain with you serving with the company, not dismissed by the colonel.’
‘I won’t back down,’ said Redman with all the pride and conviction of his eighteen years.
‘There is no need. Williams is already sorry. Knows he was wrong. Well, a milksop like him can’t take his liquor or he would never have done it. He’s just scared you are determined to kill him, but doesn’t want anyone to know it. That is why he asked me to speak to you.’
Redman looked pleased. So Hanley pressed the case. ‘Damn it, man, he is just not worth it. Think of your career. He’s sorry, so the two of you can just shake hands and forget about it.’
‘Will he apologise?’
‘He can’t, can he? For the same reason you can’t. Couldn’t face the regiment if they knew he had backed down, but is in a blue funk because he doesn’t want to be killed. Isn’t that satisfaction enough? As I say, he’s just not worth it. Let the French kill him.’
Half an hour later Hanley sat with Williams in their tent.
‘He’s scared, Bills. In a blue funk because he knows you’ll cut him to ribbons.’
‘It is more than possible that he is a better swordsman.’ Williams’ mother had been able to afford only the most rudimentary lessons in fencing and dancing as he grew up. Recent experience had very publicly demonstrated his incompetence in the second of these skills.
Hanley smiled. ‘Oh, come on. You’re bigger and stronger than him. And in a fight I bet you are plain nastier. They don’t call you Pug for nothing.’
Williams was surprised that any officer knew his nickname. ‘Not quite the same as swords. I am a good shot, though,’ he conceded.
‘Of course you are. Look, Redman’s a buffoon at the best of times, and that night he was so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing. So you’ll kill him and throw away your chance of a commission. What will you do, go back to counting totals as a clerk? That’s not you, Hamish. You’re a good soldier. Even I can see that and I have only been here five minutes. You always seem to know what you’re doing. As soon as we have our first battle you’ll be an officer.’
‘It is very kind of you to say so.’ Williams seemed genuinely pleased. ‘I can’t apologise, though. Not after what he said about, about . . .’ Reluctant to mention Jane MacAndrews, he finished rather lamely. ‘About everything.’
Hanley was fully aware of the volunteer’s adoration for the major’s daughter.
‘Of course not. There is no need. Anyway, a public apology would admit that there had been a grievance and then neither of you could back down even though it would cost either life or career.’ Williams seemed less convinced. Damn him, thought Hanley, why does he have to take empty words like honour so seriously. ‘Look, he’s just not worth it. Not to throw everything away. Let the French kill him.’
‘No apology?’
‘None. Just shake hands and both of you can forget anything ever happened.’
Pringle, Hanley, Truscott and Hatch watched the two men shake hands. They scarcely looked at each other, but there was an air of finality and relief. Afterwards Hatch took his friend off for a drink, while the others walked away from the camp. Behind a brick-built barn a horse was tethered, and Miss MacAndrews waited for them as Pringle had arranged on Hanley’s instructions.
Billy Pringle and Truscott had waited for Jane near the edge of the encampment, hoping to meet her when she took one of her regular rides. No one would think it odd that they greet and speak briefly to the daughter of one of their seniors. They were within sight of a good number of people, but far enough away to be out of earshot. Since they were to ask the girl to come to a secret assignation, it seemed to them unreasonable that they should do so at another concealed meeting, and so they conducted the interview in full view.
Miss MacAndrews’ habits were regular, and they had not waited for more than a quarter of an hour before they saw her walking her horse past the tent lines. When they raised their hats in greeting, the girl nodded and gave them a courteous but not improper smile. Yet she obviously noticed the urgency in their expression, and halted her mare.
‘We have come to beg a great favour,’ began Truscott, after the initial pleasantries. ‘In the hope that you will deign to help one whom, if not yet a friend, I am sure you nevertheless view with goodwill.’
‘How intriguing,’ was the only reply, and Pringle cut in before his colleague could continue in a similar vein, feeling that they needed to resolve the matter quickly if they were not to attract too much attention. ‘It is Mr Williams,’ he said. ‘I would guess that a young lady of your wit has already realised that he utterly adores you.’ Truscott gave him a look, feeling that such language was too direct.
Jane showed no sign of shock, but assumed an expression of mock disappointment. ‘Only him?’ Williams was a pleasantly quixotic and not ill-favoured young man, and their encounters had certainly reinforced her fondness for him, even if it was no stronger than that. There was something endearing about his odd mixture of pride and clumsiness, both of which seemed almost childlike at times. Jane loved children and the latter invariably responded. She had already made friends with most of the battalion’s infants, no matter how grubby. She also liked a good few of the officers. As yet it did not go any farther than that. Marriage and children of her own would all come, but Jane was in no hurry and wished to see more of the world and of life before she made such a big decision.
Truscott smiled. ‘I am sure that the entire regiment admires you, Miss MacAndrews.’ He bowed, giving Pringle the opportunity to take over the conversation.
‘But in the case of Williams his devotion is utter. He is a serious man, and does nothing lightly. In this case I cannot blame him,’ added Billy, unable to resist the gallantry. ‘Sadly, in Williams’ case it could bring him ruin, should he fight the duel to which he is committed.’
That shocked Jane. For one short moment the romance of a duel being fought over her was exciting, and then it seemed both absurd and horrible. ‘With whom?’
‘Mr Redman, also of the grenadiers,’ said Truscott.
‘I do not care for Mr Redman,’ said Jane, frowning. ‘And yet why should either gentleman feel it appropriatfight for my favour?’
Pringle felt that honesty was both appropriate and more likely to be persuasive. ‘The quarrel is in fact over a slur to your reputation.’ Quickly he explained what had happened, and the well-established dislike between the two men. ‘The colonel’s orders on this matter are strict. Even if neither is killed, then they will be dismissed from the regiment.’
‘Then how may I help to avoid such a sad event?’ The two officers told the girl what Hanley planned, and in both cases their already favourable impression of her was reinforced by the speed with which she understood and agreed. Now they stood with Hanley and watched Williams approach the girl, taking off his shako respectfully as he did so.
Miss MacAndrews offered Williams a hand as he approached. ‘So now I must add champion to your list of attributes,’ she said. ‘I am grateful that you were so willing to sacrifice yourself to defend my reputation, but I could not have carried such a burden.’
He kneeled and kissed her hand and began to mutter assurances that he was her devoted servant and would do anything at any time for her. Jane smiled, and surprised herself because she was actually more than a little moved by his devotion – not to love, it was true, but certainly to a yet stronger affection.
The others withdrew a little, and let him play his part in this romantic scene. Of necessity it was brief, for Miss MacAndrews could not for reputation’s sake spend too long away from her family now that it was evening. In the short time they had, Williams spoke with surprising fluency of his immense admiration for her. Jane deftly steered the conversation back to her gratitude, happily assured him of friendship, with the condition that he was not ever again to jeopardise his own position in this way.
‘You know, I sometimes wonder if our Bills is a hell of a lot more skilled in reading women than he lets on,’ said Pringle, watching the Welshman look up at Jane with an expression close to worship. He turned back to Hanley and raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Are you sure this will work?’
‘I am a fluent and convincing liar.’
‘Yes, but what if Williams and Redman talk to each other?’
‘They’re Englishmen,’ was the simple reply.
‘Williams isn’t. He’s half Scots and half Welsh. That’s asking for trouble in the first place.’
‘He’s English enough never to talk to a man he dislikes about an awkward subject. Trust me. If they were Spanish we’d have a knife fight in ten minutes, but he and Redman will now simply ignore each other.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Pringle.
‘Anyway, she will convince him. He’ll nobly suffer anything if he feels he is protecting Miss MacAndrews. That’s why it was important to bring her.’ Hanley thought for a moment. ‘You know, I rather feel our Hamish is convinced he is the hero of some chivalric romance.’
Pringle smiled, thought for a moment and then frowned. ‘So what does that make us?’