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He gave the thermometer to the orderly, entered the mare’s temperature in his own notebook, and turned to the acting commanding officer. ‘Not at all encouraging.’

‘How certain are you it’s farcy, Sam?’

The veterinarian took off his spectacles as he turned. ‘That would not be my diagnosis.’

‘Indeed? It is entered in the adjutant’s book.’

Sam Kirwan smiled thinly and shook his head. ‘I reported only the symptoms. The farriers are quick to their conclusions.’

Hervey was encouraged. ‘Then the symptoms…?’

‘The inflammation is as described in the farcy, but there is also, in two of the cases, inflammation of the pituitary membrane which lines the partition along the inside of the nose. It is discernible only by digital examination.’

Hervey approached the mare, took off a glove and, holding her muzzle down with his left hand, probed gently with his second finger. ‘I don’t know that I can discern anything, Sam.’

‘Unless you are in the habit of such an examination, sir, it is unlikely to reveal itself. I would that you washed your hands now in that vinegar-water yonder; the disease – if it is farcy – is very contagious.’

Hervey did as he was told. ‘Shall you put a name to it?’

Sam Kirwan sighed. ‘I could, but it would be better instead to refer only to the symptoms, for this virus, if it is the type I have seen before, works in a mazey way. If I tell you it is glanders you will be alarmed.’

Hervey’s jaw dropped. ‘Good God. If we so much as suspect it then we ought to shoot every one of them!’

‘I said you would be alarmed. No, I do not recommend that we shoot them, not now that they are in here. I’ve had sulphur pots placed between the lines. I’ve ordered them lit at dusk. They’ll scrub the air well enough.’

Hervey shivered. An outbreak of glanders or farcy: besides the depredations on the order of battle (and the inconvenience and expense that would arise) there was the ignominy, the yellow flag flying at the barracks gate, the line in District Orders and all. It was not the thing of which a successful tenure of command was made.

‘If there is the slightest risk of contagion then I am of a mind to shoot them forthwith.’

But Sam Kirwan shook his head. ‘It would not be scientific to say that there is not the slightest risk, but I would not think it probable. I have observed that in such cases the virus takes a hold in the air even before the sick animal is removed, or even in the blood, yet does not show itself for several days. I very much fear that if it is glanders then A Troop’s horses will be already infected. The important thing will be to keep them from the others. But I am unconvinced that it is glanders, only less so than that it is the farcy.’

‘The two are horribly of a piece. Have you spoken to the adjutant so?’

‘I have. He has given orders, I understand, for exercise at different times.’

They looked at the other occupants of the infirmary in turn, and then parted respectfully, though Hervey left the lines by no means certain they were following the right course. Destroying three troop horses which might perfectly well recover, which might indeed have nothing worse than a cold, was not something to be ordered lightly; but the well-being of four hundred more was his principal responsibility. What was certain was that his reputation would never recover if his troopers did not. He would consider it carefully and speak with the veterinarian again in the morning.


By the time he reached his quarters in the officers’ house, the picket had alerted Private Johnson, and a good fire was taking hold in the hearth in his sitting room.

‘Ah thought tha were comin back afore now, sir. Ah didn’t know what to do.’

Perhaps it was the separation – Hervey was not usually without his groom for more than a day or so – but the vowels of Johnson’s native county sounded particularly alien. It was curious: Johnson had left those parts twenty years ago and more, had never returned save once, and very briefly, and heard them only in the speech of Corporal Stray and a few others, yet they had not moderated in the slightest. Indeed, Hervey was quite convinced that they had become more pro-nounced of late, as if Johnson took some sort of perverse refuge in them.

‘I was caught by the fever again, I’m afraid. Nor was I sure you would be still here.’

Johnson’s brow furrowed. ‘What’s tha mean, sir?’

‘The Bow-street men.’

Johnson muttered indistinctly and began poking the fire.

‘Well?’

He stood up, though his shoulders remained hunched. ‘T’serjeant-major says ah’ve got to go there in t’mornin, to Bow-street, ah mean.’

‘What for?’

‘Don’t know, sir.’

‘What do you mean you “don’t know”? They must have given a reason.’

‘Ah’ve got to see t’magistrate.’

‘What for?’

‘Don’t know.’

Hervey sighed. Long experience told him that when Johnson was in such a mood it was better to drop the subject. He would speak with the sarn’t-major in the morning. Even before the veterinarian.

‘Will tha be eating in t’mess, sir?’

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Company Of Spears
Company Of Spears

The eighth novel in the acclaimed and bestselling series finds Hervey on his way to South Africa where he is preparing to form a new body of cavalry, the Cape Mounted Rifles.All looks set fair for Major Matthew Hervey: news of a handsome legacy should allow him to purchase command of his beloved regiment, the 6th Light Dragoons. He is resolved to marry, and rather to his surprise, the object of his affections — the widow of the late Sir Ivo Lankester — has readily consented. But he has reckoned without the opportunism of a fellow officer with ready cash to hand; and before too long, he is on the lookout for a new posting. However, Hervey has always been well-served by old and loyal friends, and Eyre Somervile comes to his aid with the means of promotion: there is need of a man to help reorganize the local forces at the Cape Colony, and in particular to form a new body of horse.At the Cape, Hervey is at once thrown into frontier skirmishes with the Xhosa and Bushmen, but it is Eyre Somervile's instruction to range deep across the frontier, into the territory of the Zulus, that is his greatest test. Accompanied by the charming, cultured, but dissipated Edward Fairbrother, a black captain from the disbanded Royal African Corps and bastard son of a Jamaican planter, he makes contact with the legendary King Shaka, and thereafter warns Somervile of the danger that the expanding Zulu nation poses to the Cape Colony.The climax of the novel is the battle of Umtata River (August 1828), in which Hervey has to fight as he has never fought before, and in so doing saves the life of the nephew of one of the Duke of Wellington's closest friends.

Allan Mallinson

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