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Authors: Anthony Price
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forestalled him.
“All right, Sergeant-major Swayne,” he said softly. “Let it … be.”
He stared around him slowly, no longer blinking, as though his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and he could see every last cobweb in the barn. The bruise on his cheek seemed larger and blacker, brutalising one side of his face.
Maybe not a bull calf after all, thought Butler, but some other animal. Or at least not a newly born bull calf, but a young bull not so easily to be taken for granted.
Then the spell was broken as the other officers of Chandos Force came out of the darkness behind him, two of them almost indistinguishable from the rank-and-file bandits, but the third contrasting strangely with them because of his conventional smartness—Three pips for a captain—Butler craned his neck and strained his eyes—by God! not three pips, but a crown and two pips—a full colonel, and with ribbons to match too! So Major O’Conor wasn’t in command of Chandos Force after all… .
But it was the major who came in last, and it was the major who took the centre of the lamplight, with all four officers joining his audience.
The glass eye glinted unnaturally in its fixed stare as the good eye ranged among them fiercely for a moment or two.
“All right, then”—the eye stopped for an instant, then darted again left—right—left—“what I shall say now I shall say once and once only, as is my custom … which all of you know—and some of you know to your cost.”
No one laughed. So that wasn’t a joke, thought Butler; so perhaps the bandits knew more about discipline than he had thought on first sight.
“All except two.” The major paused. “Mr. Audley you have just seen. He comes to us from the South Wessex Dragoons and he speaks fluent French.” He paused again, and Butler tensed himself just in time. “Corporal Butler—come here!”
Butler shouldered his way to the light, managing in the process to tread heavily and satisfactorily on the foot of the bandit who had whispered about Audley’s mother.
“You see now Corporal Butler.” Butler glared into the darkness—it was surprising how this one dim light could be so blinding. “The corporal comes to us from the Lancashire Rifles and he speaks fluent German—right, Corporal.”
Butler made his way back to his original position. This time the bandit was ready for him, but this time he trod on the other bandit’s foot “Mr. Audley and Corporal Butler are replacements for Mr. Wilson and Sergeant Scott. As such they have no formal duties at present—“
Butler frowned in the darkness, wondering what had happened to Sergeant Scott. Possibly his German hadn’t been fluent enough for Major O’Conor’s purposes?
“—with me—right.” The all-seeing eye settled on Butler, as though the major knew that his attention was straying from the words which were only going to be said once. With an effort he shook himself free from Sergeant Scott.
The eye left him. “Now I am fully aware that there’s only one damn question you want answered—namely, why we should have been transported across the length of Europe from our own private war into someone else’s fight … particularly when our war was taking such a … promising turn.
“I am also fully aware that you are now confidently expecting the usual pack of lies which is the staple diet served to us by the Gadarene swine at GHQ.”
Butler stole a glance at the bandit beside him. Somewhat to his surprise he saw in the dim light that the bandit was grinning; evidently the major was running true to form.
“However … in this instance the answers I have been able to elicit may actually bear some resemblance to the truth … indeed, even more incredibly, they show some faint glimmering of rational thought and old-fashioned common sense—to our advantage.”
There was a slight ripple of movement among the bandits—either it was the word “advantage” or they knew that the preamble was
“All right, Sergeant-major Swayne,” he said softly. “Let it … be.”
He stared around him slowly, no longer blinking, as though his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and he could see every last cobweb in the barn. The bruise on his cheek seemed larger and blacker, brutalising one side of his face.
Maybe not a bull calf after all, thought Butler, but some other animal. Or at least not a newly born bull calf, but a young bull not so easily to be taken for granted.
Then the spell was broken as the other officers of Chandos Force came out of the darkness behind him, two of them almost indistinguishable from the rank-and-file bandits, but the third contrasting strangely with them because of his conventional smartness—Three pips for a captain—Butler craned his neck and strained his eyes—by God! not three pips, but a crown and two pips—a full colonel, and with ribbons to match too! So Major O’Conor wasn’t in command of Chandos Force after all… .
But it was the major who came in last, and it was the major who took the centre of the lamplight, with all four officers joining his audience.
The glass eye glinted unnaturally in its fixed stare as the good eye ranged among them fiercely for a moment or two.
“All right, then”—the eye stopped for an instant, then darted again left—right—left—“what I shall say now I shall say once and once only, as is my custom … which all of you know—and some of you know to your cost.”
No one laughed. So that wasn’t a joke, thought Butler; so perhaps the bandits knew more about discipline than he had thought on first sight.
“All except two.” The major paused. “Mr. Audley you have just seen. He comes to us from the South Wessex Dragoons and he speaks fluent French.” He paused again, and Butler tensed himself just in time. “Corporal Butler—come here!”
Butler shouldered his way to the light, managing in the process to tread heavily and satisfactorily on the foot of the bandit who had whispered about Audley’s mother.
“You see now Corporal Butler.” Butler glared into the darkness—it was surprising how this one dim light could be so blinding. “The corporal comes to us from the Lancashire Rifles and he speaks fluent German—right, Corporal.”
Butler made his way back to his original position. This time the bandit was ready for him, but this time he trod on the other bandit’s foot “Mr. Audley and Corporal Butler are replacements for Mr. Wilson and Sergeant Scott. As such they have no formal duties at present—“
Butler frowned in the darkness, wondering what had happened to Sergeant Scott. Possibly his German hadn’t been fluent enough for Major O’Conor’s purposes?
“—with me—right.” The all-seeing eye settled on Butler, as though the major knew that his attention was straying from the words which were only going to be said once. With an effort he shook himself free from Sergeant Scott.
The eye left him. “Now I am fully aware that there’s only one damn question you want answered—namely, why we should have been transported across the length of Europe from our own private war into someone else’s fight … particularly when our war was taking such a … promising turn.
“I am also fully aware that you are now confidently expecting the usual pack of lies which is the staple diet served to us by the Gadarene swine at GHQ.”
Butler stole a glance at the bandit beside him. Somewhat to his surprise he saw in the dim light that the bandit was grinning; evidently the major was running true to form.
“However … in this instance the answers I have been able to elicit may actually bear some resemblance to the truth … indeed, even more incredibly, they show some faint glimmering of rational thought and old-fashioned common sense—to our advantage.”
There was a slight ripple of movement among the bandits—either it was the word “advantage” or they knew that the preamble was
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