Monstrous Regiment

She was shaking. She felt sick. Her stomach was a small, red-hot lump. What else could she have done? Was she supposed to think We have met the enemy and he is nice? Anyway, he wasn’t. He was smug.

She tugged a sabre from a scabbard and crept out into the night. It was still raining, and waist-deep mist was drifting up from the river. Half a dozen or so horses were outside, but not tied up. A trooper was waiting with them. Faintly, against the rustle of the rain, she heard him making soothing noises to comfort one of them. She wished she hadn’t heard that. Well, she’d taken the shilling. Polly gripped the cudgel.

She’d gone a step when the mist between her and the man fountained up slowly as something rose out of it. The horses shifted uneasily. The man turned, a shadow moved, the man fell…

“Oil” whispered Polly.

The shadow turned. “Ozzer? It’s me, Maladict,” it said. “Sarge sent me to see if you needed help.”

“Bloody Jackrum left me surrounded by armed men!” Polly hissed.

“And?”

“Well, I… knocked two of them out,” she said, feeling as she said it that this rather spoilt her case as a victim. “One went over the road, though.”

“I think we got that one,” said Maladict. “Well, I say ‘got’… Tonker nearly gutted him. There’s a girl with what I’d call unresolved issues.” He turned round. “Let’s see… seven horses, seven men. Yep.”

“Tonker?” said Polly.

“Oh, yes. Hadn’t you spotted her? She went mad when the man charged at Lofty. Now, let’s have a look at your gentlemen, shall we?” said Maladict, heading for the i

“But Lofty and Tonker…” Polly began, ru

Even in the dark, Maladict’s teeth gleamed as he smiled. “The world’s certainly unfolding itself for you, eh? Ozzer? Every day, something new. Cross-dressing now, I see.”

“What?”

“You are wearing a petticoat, Ozzer,” said Maladict, stepping into the bar. Polly looked down guiltily and started to tug it off, and then thought: hang on a moment…

The sergeant had managed to pull himself up against the bar, where he was being sick. The captain was groaning on the floor.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” said the vampire. “Please pay attention. I am a reformed vampire, which is to say, I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee. It would be wrong to say that violent, tearing carnage does not come easily to me. It’s not tearing your throats out that doesn’t come easily to me. Please don’t make it any harder.”

The sergeant pushed himself away from the bar top and took a muzzy swing at Maladict. Almost absent-mindedly, Maladict leaned away from it and then returned a roundhouse blow that knocked him over.

“The captain looks bad,” he said. “What did he try to do to poor little you?”

“Patronize me,” said Polly, glaring at Maladict.

“Ah,” said the vampire.

Maladict knocked softly on the barracks door. It opened a fraction, and then all the way. Carborundum lowered his club. Wordlessly, Polly and Maladict dragged the two cavalrymen inside. Sergeant Jackrum was sitting on a stool by the fire, drinking a mug of beer.

“Well done, lads,” he said. “Put ’em with the others.” He waved the mug vaguely towards the far wall, where four of the soldiers were hunched sullenly under the gaze of Tonker. They had been manacled together. The last soldier was lying on a table, with Igor at work on him with a needle and thread.

“How’s he coming along, private?” said Jackrum.

“He’ll be fine, tharge,” said Igor. “It looked worthe than it wath, really. Jutht ath well, because until we get to the battlefield I won’t get any thpareth.”

“Got a couple of legs for ol’ Threeparts?” said Jackrum.

“Now then, sarge, none of that,” said Scallot evenly. He was sitting on the other side of the fireplace. “You just leave me their horses and saddles. Your lads could do with their sabres, I’ve no doubt.”

“They were looking for us, sarge,” said Polly. “We’re just a bunch of untrained recruits and they were looking for us. I could’ve been killed, sarge!”

“No, I know talent when I sees it,” said Jackrum. “Well done, lad. Had to piss off myself, on account of a big man in full enemy uniform isn’t easy to miss. Besides, you lads needed to be woke up. That’s milit’ry thinking, that is.”

“But if I hadn’t…” Polly hesitated. “If I hadn’t tricked them, they might’ve killed the lieutenant!”

“See? There’s always a positive side, any way you look at it,” said Scallot.

The sergeant stood up, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and hitched up his belt. He ambled over to the captain, reached down, and lifted him up by his jacket.

“Why were you looking for these boys, sir?” he enquired.

The captain opened his eye and focused on the fat man.

“I am an officer and a gentleman, sergeant,” he muttered. “There are rules.”

“Not many gentlemen around here at this moment, sir,” said the sergeant.

“Damn right,” whispered Maladict. Polly, feeling drunk with relief and released tension, had to put her hand over her mouth to stop giggling.

“Oh, yeah. The rules. Prisoners of war and that,” Jackrum went on. “That means you even have to eat the same things as us, you poor devils. So you’re not going to talk to me?”

“I am… Captain Horentz of the First Heavy Dragoons. I’ll say nothing more.” And something about the way he said it elbowed Polly in the brain. He’s lying.

Jackrum stared at him blankly for a moment, and then said: “Well, now… it looks like what we have here is an embugger-ance which, my lads of the Cheesemongers, is defined as an obstruction in the way of progress. I propose to deal with it in this wise!” He let go of the man’s jacket and the captain fell back.

Sergeant Jackrum removed his hat. Then he removed his jacket, too, revealing a stained shirt and bright red braces. He was still almost spherical; from his neck, folds of skin lapped their way down to the tropical regions. The belt must have been there just to conform to regulations, Polly thought.

He reached up and undid a piece of string from around his neck. It was looped through a hole in a tarnished coin.

“Corporal Scallot!” he said.

“Yes, sarge!” said Scallot, saluting.

“You will note I am divestering myself of my insignia and am handing you my official shilling, which means, since last time I signed up it was for twelve years and that was sixteen years ago, I am now fully and legally a damn civilian!”

“Yes, Mister Jackrum,” said Scallot cheerfully. Among the prisoners, heads jerked up at the sound of the name.

“And that being the case, and since you, captain, are invading our country by night under the cover of darkness, and I am a humble civilian, I think there’s no rule to stop me beating seven kinds of crap out of you until you tell me why you came here and when the rest of your mates are going to arrive. And that may take me some time, sir, because up until now I’ve only ever discovered five types of crap.” He rolled up his sleeves, hauled up the captain again and drew back a fist—

“We just had to take the recruits into custody,” said a voice. “We weren’t going to hurt them! Now put him down, Jackrum, damn you! He’s still seeing stars!”

It was the sergeant from the i

Jackrum must have picked it up, too. “Ah, now we’re talking,” he said, lowering the captain gently but still holding his coat. “Your men speak up for you well, captain.”