‘Okay,’ said Tonker. ‘I’m just going to pick her up, and you just carefully lower the lid over the candle, right? C’mon, Tilda.’
She raised the girl carefully to her feet, whispering to her all the time, and then nodded to Polly, who lowered the lid with a carefulness that amounted to reverence.
Lofty walked as though asleep. Tonker stopped by the leg of the heavy kitchen table, to which she’d attached the other end of the rope holding the flour bags.
‘Okay so far,’ she said. ‘Now, when I pull the knot we each grab an arm and we run, Polly, understand? We run. Ready? Got her?’ She hauled on the rope. ‘Run!’
The flour sacks dropped, streaming white dust as they fell, and exploded in front of the door. Flour rose like a fog. They raced for the storeroom and fell in a heap past the barrel as Tonker screamed, ‘Okay, lieutenant!’ Blouse pulled the rope that raised the lid and let the candle flame reach—
The word was not whoomph. The experience was whoomph. It had a quality that overwhelmed every sense. It shook the world like a sheet, painted it white and then, surprisingly, filled it with the smell of toast. And then it was over, in a second, leaving nothing but distant screams and the rumble of collapsing masonry.
Polly uncurled, and looked up into Blouse’s face. ‘I think we grab things and run now, sir,’ she said. ‘And screaming would help.’
‘I think I can manage the screaming,’ muttered Shufti. ‘This is not a very nurturing experience.’
Blouse gripped his ladle. ‘I hope this isn’t going to be our famous last stand,’ he said.
‘In fact, sir,’ said Polly, ‘I think it’s going to be our first. Permission to yell in a bloodcurdling way, sir?’
‘Permission granted, Perks!’
The floor was awash with water and bits – quite small bits – of barrel. Half the chimney had collapsed into the fireplace and the soot was blazing fiercely. Polly wondered if, down in the valley, it’d look like a signal.
The door had gone. So had a lot of wall around it. Beyond—
Smoke and dust filled the air. In it, men lay groaning, or picked their way aimlessly across the rubble. When the squad arrived they did not simply fail to put up a fight, they failed to understand. Or hear. The women lowered their weapons. Polly spotted the sergeant, who was sitting and hitting the side of his head with the flat of his hand.
‘Give me the keys!’ she demanded.
He tried to focus. ‘What?’
‘The keys!’
‘I’ll have a brown one, please.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘What?’
Polly reached down and snatched the key ring from the unresisting man’s belt, fighting down an instinct to apologize. She threw it to Blouse. ‘Will you do the honours, sir? I think we’ll be having a lot of visitors really soon.’ She turned to the squad. ‘The rest of you, get their weapons off them!’
‘Some of these men are badly hurt, Polly,’ said Igorina, kneeling down. ‘There’s one here with multiple.’
‘Multiple what?’ said Polly, watching the steps.
‘Just . . . multiple. Multiple everything. But I know I can save his arm, because I’ve just found it over there. I think he must’ve been holding his sword and—’
‘Just do what you can, okay?’ said Polly.
‘Hey, they’re enemies,’ said Tonker, picking up a sword.
‘Thith ith an Igor thing,’ said Igorina, taking off her pack. ‘I’m thorry, you wouldn’t underthtand.’
‘I’m beginning not to.’ Tonker joined Polly in her watch on the stairs. Around them, men groaned and stone creaked. ‘I wonder how much damage we did? There’s a lot of dust up there . . .’
‘There’ll be a lot of people here soon,’ said Polly, more calmly than she felt. Because this is going to be it, she thought. This time there’s going to be no turkey to save us. This is where I find out if I’m the meat or the metal . . .
She could hear Blouse unlocking doors, and the shouts from those within. ‘Lieutenant Blouse, Tenth Infantry!’ he was saying. ‘This is a rescue, broadly speaking. Sorry about the mess.’
Probably his inner Daphne had added that last bit, Polly thought. And then the corridor was full of released men, and someone said, ‘What are these women doing here! For god’s sake, give me that sword, girl!’
And, right now, she wasn’t inclined to argue.
Men take over. It is probably because of socks.
The squad retired to the kitchen, where Igorina was at work. She worked fast, efficiently and, on the whole, with very little blood. Her large pack was open beside her. The jars inside were blue, green and red; some of them smoked when she opened them, or gave off strange lights. Her fingers moved in a blur. It was fascinating to watch her working. At least, it was if you hadn’t just eaten.
‘Squad, this is Major Erick von Moldvitz! He asked to meet you.’
They turned at the sound of Blouse’s voice. He’d brought a newcomer. The major was young, but much more heavily built than the lieutenant. He had a scar across his face.
‘Stand easy, lads,’ he said. ‘Blouse here has been telling me what crackin’ work you’ve been doing. Well done! Dressin’ up as women, eh? Lucky you weren’t found out!’
‘Yessir,’ said Polly. From outside, there came the sound of cries and fighting.
‘Didn’t bring your uniforms with you?’ said the major.
‘Could’ve been tricky if they were found on us,’ said Polly, staring at Blouse.
‘Could’ve been tricky anyway, eh, if you were searched?’ said the major, winking.
‘Yessir,’ said Polly obediently. ‘Lieutenant Blouse told you all about us, did he, sir?’
Just behind the major, Blouse was making a universal gesture. It consisted of both hands held palm up and outwards and waggled furiously with all fingers extended.
‘Hah, yes. Stole some clothes from a knockin’ shop, eh? Young lads like you shouldn’t have gone in a place like that, eh? Those places are an Abomination, if they’re run right!’ said the major, wagging a finger theatrically. ‘Anyway, we’re doing well. Hardly any guards this deep in the keep, y’see. The whole place was built on the basis that the enemy would be on the outside! I say, what’s that man doin’ to the man on the slab?’
‘Patching him up, thur,’ said Igorina. ‘Thewing hith arm back on.’
‘He’s an enemy, ain’t he?’
‘Code of the Igorth, thur,’ said Igorina reproachfully. ‘A thpare hand where needed, thur.’
The major sniffed. ‘Oh well, can’t argue with you fellows, eh? But when you’ve finished, we’ve got plenty of chaps out there who could do with your help.’
‘Thertainly, thur,’ said Igorina.
‘Any news of my brother, sir?’ said Polly. ‘Paul Perks?’
‘Yes, Blouse here mentioned him, Perks, but there’s men locked up everywhere and it’s a little tricky right now, eh?’ said the major brusquely. ‘As for the rest of you, we’ll get you into a pair of trousers as soon as possible and you can join in the fun, eh?’
‘The fun,’ said Tonker, in a hollow voice.
‘The fun being . . . ?’ said Polly.
‘We’ve got as far as the fourth floor already,’ said von Moldvitz. ‘We might not have the whole keep back, but we hold the outer courtyards and some of the towers. By morning, we’ll control who comes in and goes out. We’re back in the war! They won’t invade now. Most of their top brass are in the inner keep.’
‘Back in the war,’ murmured Polly.
‘And we will win!’ said the major.
‘Oh, sugar,’ said Shufti.
Something was going to give, Polly knew. Tonker had that look she got before she exploded, and even Shufti was fidgeting. It would only be a matter of time before Lofty found her box of matches, which Polly had hidden in a cupboard.
Igorina packed up her bag and smiled brightly at the major. ‘Ready to go, thur,’ she said.
‘At least remove t
he wig, eh?’
‘It’th my own hair, thur,’ said Igorina.
‘Looks a bit . . . cissy, then,’ said the major. ‘It would be better if—’
‘I am, in fact, female, sir,’ said Igorina, dropping most of the lisp. ‘Trust me, I’m an Igor. We know about this sort of thing. And my needlework ith second to none.’
‘A woman?’ said the major.
Polly sighed. ‘We all are, sir. Really women. Not just dressed up as women. And right now I don’t want to put any trousers on because then I’d be a woman dressed up as a man dressed up as a woman dressed up as a man, and then I’d be so confused I wouldn’t know how to swear. And I want to swear right now, sir, very much.’
The major turned stiffly to Blouse. ‘Did you know about this, lieutenant?’ he barked.
‘Well . . . yes, sir. Eventually. But even so, sir, I would—’
This cell was an old guardroom. It was damp, and had two creaking bunks.
‘On the whole,’ said Tonker, ‘I think it was better when we were locked up by the enemy.’
‘There’s a grille in the ceiling,’ said Shufti.
‘Not big enough to climb through,’ said Polly.
‘No, but we can hang ourselves before they do it.’
‘I’m told it’s a very painful way to die,’ said Polly.
‘Who by?’ said Tonker.
Occasionally the sounds of battle filtered through the narrow window. Mostly it was yells; often it was screams. Fun was being had.
Igorina sat staring at her hands. ‘What’s wrong with these?’ she said. ‘Didn’t I do a good job on that arm? But no, they’re afraid I might touch their privates.’
‘Perhaps you could have promised to operate only on officers,’ said Tonker. No one laughed, and probably no one would have bothered to run for it if the door had swung open. It was a proud and noble thing to escape from the enemy, but if you were escaping from your own side, where would you escape to?
On one of the bunks, Wazzer slept like a hibernating bear. You had to watch her for some time to see her breathe.
‘What can they do to us?’ said Shufti nervously. ‘You know . . . really do to us?’
‘We were wearing men’s clothes,’ said Polly.
‘But that’s only a beating.’
‘Oh, they’ll find some other stuff, believe you me,’ said Tonker. ‘Besides, who knows we’re here?’
‘But we got them out of prison! Our side!’
Polly sighed. ‘That’s why, Shufti. No one wants to know that a bunch of girls dressed up as soldiers and broke into a big fort and let out half an army. Everyone knows females can’t do that. Neither side wants us here, understand?’
‘On a battlefield like this, who’ll worry about a few more bodies?’ said Tonker.
‘Don’t say that! Lieutenant Blouse spoke up for us,’ said Shufti.
‘What, Daphne?’ said Tonker. ‘Hah! Just another body. They’ve probably locked him up somewhere, just like us.’
There was a distant cheering, which went on for some time.
‘Sounds like they’ve got the building,’ said Polly.
‘Hooray for us,’ said Tonker, and spat.
After a while, a small hatch was opened in the door and a silent man handed through a big can of scubbo and a tray of horse-bread. It wasn’t bad scubbo or, at least, not bad scubbo by the standards of bad scubbo. There was some discussion about whether being fed meant you weren’t going to be executed, until someone pointed out the tradition of the Last Hearty Meal. Igorina gave it as her cultural opinion that the stew was not only hearty but lungy and livery too. But at least it was hot.
A couple of hours later a can of saloop was handed through, with some mugs. This time, the guard winked.
An hour after that, the door was unlocked. A young man in a major’s uniform stepped inside.
Oh well, let’s go on as we started, Polly thought. She leapt to her feet. ‘Squaddd . . . tennn . . . hut!’
With reasonable speed, the squad at least managed to stand up straight and in a line. The major acknowledged her by tapping the peak of his cap with a stick. It was definitely thinner than an inch.
‘Stand easy . . . corporal, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Yessir.’ That sounded promising.
‘I am Major Clogston, of the Provost’s office,’ said the major. ‘And I’d like you to tell me all about it. About everything. I will make notes, if you don’t mind.’
‘What’s this about?’ said Tonker.
‘Ah, you’d be . . . Private Halter,’ said Clogston. ‘I’ve already spoken at length to Lieutenant Blouse.’ He turned, nodded at the guard hovering in the doorway, and shut the door. He also closed the hatch.
‘You are going to be tried,’ he said, sitting down on the spare bunk. ‘The politicos want you to be tried by a full Nugganatic court, but that would be tricky here, and no one wants this to go on for any longer than it has to. Besides, there has been an . . . unusual event. Someone has sent a communiqué to General Froc asking about you all by name. At least,’ he added, ‘by your surnames.’
‘Was that Lord Rust, sir?’
‘No, it was someone called William de Worde. I don’t know if you’ve run across his newspaper thing? We’re wondering how he knew you were captured.’
‘Well, we didn’t tell him!’ said Polly.
‘It makes things a little . . . tricky,’ said Clogston. ‘Although, from your point of view, a lot more hopeful. There are those members of the army who are, let us say, considering the future of Borogravia. That is, they would like there to be one. My job is to present your case to the tribunal.’
‘Is that a court martial?’ said Polly.
‘No, they’re not that stupid. Calling it a court martial would indicate that they accept that you are soldiers.’
‘You did,’ said Shufti.
‘De facto is not de jure,’ said Clogston. ‘Now, as I said . . . tell me your story, Miss Perks.’
‘That’s Corporal, thank you!’
‘I apologize for the lapse. Now . . . go on . . .’ Clogston opened his bag and produced a pair of half-moon spectacles, which he put on, and took out a pencil and something white and square. ‘Whenever you’re ready?’ he added.
‘Sir, are you really going to write on a jam sandwich?’ said Polly.
‘What?’ The major looked down, and laughed. ‘Oh. No. Excuse me. I really mustn’t miss meals. Blood sugar, you know . . .’
‘Only it’s oozing, sir. Don’t mind us. We’ve eaten.’
It took an hour, with many interruptions and corrections, and two more sandwiches. The major used up quite a lot of notebook, and occasionally had to stop and stare at the ceiling.
‘. . . and then we were thrown in here,’ said Polly, sitting back.
‘Pushed, really,’ said Igorina. ‘Nudged.’
‘Mmm,’ said Clogston. ‘You say Corporal Strappi, as you knew him, was . . . suddenly very ill at the thought of going into battle?’
‘Yessir.’
‘And in the tavern in Plün you really kneed Prince Heinrich in the fracas?’
‘In or about the fracas, sir. And I didn’t know it was him at the time, sir.’
‘I see you haven’t mentioned the attack on the hilltop where, according to Lieutenant Blouse, your prompt action got the enemy code book . . .’
‘Not really worth mentioning, sir. We didn’t do much with it.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Because of you and that nice man from the newspaper the alliance has had two regiments trotting around in the mountains after some guerrilla leader called “Tiger”. Prince Heinrich insisted, and is in fact in command. He is, you could say, a sore loser. Very sore, according to rumour.’
‘The newspaper writer believed all that stuff ?’ said Polly, amazed.
‘I don’t know, but he certainly wrote it down. You say Lord Rust offered to let you all go home quietly?’
‘Yessir.’
‘And the consensus was
that he could . . .’
‘Stick it up his jumper, sir.’
‘Oh, yes. I couldn’t read my own writing. J . . . U . . . M . . .’ Clogston carefully wrote the word in capital letters, and then said: ‘I am not saying this, I am not here, but some . . . senior . . . people on our side are wondering if you would just quietly go . . . ?’
The question hung in the air like a corpse from a beam.
‘I’ll put that down as “jumper” too, then, shall I?’ said Clogston.
‘Some of us have got nowhere to go to,’ said Tonker.
‘Or no one to go with,’ said Shufti.
‘We haven’t done anything wrong,’ said Polly.
‘Jumper it is, then,’ said the major. He folded up his little spectacles and sighed. ‘They won’t even tell me what charges are going to be made.’
‘Being Bad Girls,’ said Tonker. ‘Who are we fooling, sir? The enemy wanted just to be quietly rid of us, and the general wants the same thing. That’s the trouble about the good guys and the bad guys. They’re all guys!’
‘Would we have got a medal, sir, if we’d been men?’ Shufti demanded.
‘Yep. Certainly. And Blouse would have been promoted on the spot, I imagine. But right now we’re at war, and this might not be the time—’
‘—to thank a bunch of Abominable women?’ Polly suggested.
Clogston smiled. ‘I was going to say “to lose concentration”. It’s the political branch who are pushing for this, of course. They want to stop word getting around. And high command want this over quickly for the same reason.’
‘When is all this going to start?’ said Polly.
‘In about half an hour.’
‘This is stupid!’ said Tonker. ‘They’re in the middle of a war and they’re going to take the time to hold a trial for a few women who haven’t even done anything wrong?’
‘The general has insisted,’ said Clogston. ‘He wants this cleared out of the way.’