Chapter Five

“What a spanking filly she is!” Captain Baker exclaimed. Dryden and a small group of young officers of the regiment watched the young Lady Belfair riding her horse at a full gallop across the parade grounds in the middle of the cantonments.

Dryden could not honestly be sure the man wasn’t referring to the young woman rather than the horse she was riding on. He knew he should reprimand the Captain, the comment was ungentlemanly, and yet Dryden agreed with him on either count. The young woman was someone he had admired from afar. He felt she was quite out of his league, her father being a lord, a brigadier general, and ultimately his commanding officer.

It had been a bit more than two weeks on the road and they were all feeling quite pent up. Dryden, while he held himself to a high standard, felt that a long leash often suited the men under his own command better.

They had returned from the long patrol two days prior, and those days had been filled with paperwork and debriefings. The nights had been filled with nightmares of the burned bodies piled high in Zundak. This was the first chance most of them had had to get out and put their minds to something different. It was nearly impossible to unwind properly, however, with the knowledge that their enemies were practically at the gates.

After the fort, Captain Pugh had taken his company of horse up to the pass at Zundak. A few enemy scouts had fled at their advance, and Pugh had personally seen the enemy army encamped below in the plains on the other side of the low pass. The 13th Dragoons had beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to be caught out, and made it back to the safety of the lower valley before the enemy could respond. When they returned to the city, they had delivered Captain Crakehavn’s message and told the generals what they had seen. Their report had been met with consternation, a lot of harrumphing, and much doubt about the size of the force. General Blackwater had specifically called such reports “pishery-pashery”. They were concerned, of course, for the destruction of the garrison at Zundak, but it was waved off as having been mostly sepoys who were lost. They called it the work of brigands. The dead officers were the main concern. Havor had spoken in grave terms to them, but the two generals were as unmovable as the great mountain ranges that surrounded Vurun.

Two of the young women who were riding, Lady Belfair and Lady Julia Gorst were now racing and laughing across the grounds on their mares. Lady Helena Belfair was dark-haired, with a strong chin and, furious bright eyes like her father, but the soft lady-like cheeks and nose of her mother. Lady Gorst was the daughter of Colonel Marcus Gorst, known as Lord Gorst. She was red-haired and strikingly beautiful, or so Dryden thought. They were both riding their horses in an un-lady-like manner and though Dryden did not approve, he knew there was no sense speaking to either of them about decorum. They’d simply laugh and he’d look foolish. Looking foolish was not something he cared to do around Lady Gorst.

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A deep rumbling voice boomed behind them. Dryden cringed. It was The Brigadier, Lord Belfair, “What’s this I hear about spanking fillies?” He put an arm around Captain Baker’s shoulder.

“Indeed sir, yes.” Baker coughed, “The horses.”

“The horses, yes, what the devil else should you be talking about? I bought Helena that horse last summer for her birthday.” The horse was indeed exceptional. It was tall and proud and jet black with a long flowing mane behind it. He grinned at the young man. Then he slipped his arm down from Baker’s shoulder and turned, “Dryden, is Havor about?”

“No sir. I’m not sure where he’s off to.”

“Indeed. Well, I think we’ve got just the thing to solve these troubles, my boy.”

Dryden assumed he was speaking of Zundak and the army heading towards Vurun, “Indeed?”

“Yes, the Shah and General Blackwater are intending to host a ball at the Shah’s palace. Should get morale up, don’t you think?”

“Sir?” Dryden asked, confused.

“A ball. A party. Dancing.” Belfair explained as if Dryden were an idiot.

“I don’t…” Dryden trailed off.

“It’s a coming out party for the young ladies, I expect you all to be there in good spirits. I expect all young gentlemen of good breeding to attend.” He patted Baker on the back and peered at Dryden as one might inspect a horse they were thinking of buying, “Yes, very good. As you were. Then he walked off as abruptly as he had arrived.

Dryden didn’t feel like watching any more horse riding. Neither did the other officers. He went to find Lieutenant Colonel Havor to tell him the good news. He found his commander in his office sitting with Mar and Lieutenant Wolcott.

“A fucking cotillion?” Havor shouted, “We’re about to be in the fight of our bloody lives and Blackwater is putting on a fucking cotillion?” He looked as if he wanted to sweep everything from his desk and storm from the room, but to his credit, he merely sat back down and fumed silently.

Mar reached down to a box next to the desk and pulled out a bottle, “Sherry?” He lifted the bottle and waggled it around enticingly.

Havor shook his head and waved it off.

Mar shrugged and tucked the bottle back into the box where he had found it.

“What do we do?” Dryden asked.

“What can we do?” Havor replied, “We do our duty. We polish our shoes, press our shirts, put on our very best dress uniforms, make ourselves as dashing as possible, and then dance with the general’s daughter.”

“Sir…” Dryden tried to protest.

Havor cut him off sharply, “We do it as if King Victus gave us the order his-bloody-self. Even if he tells us to dance like monkeys and wear bananas for hats. Duty. Honour. You have those, I assume?”

All Dryden could do was snap to attention and salute his commanding officer, “Sir.”