A Christmas Garland Read Online Free Page B

the future.”
    Busby stopped abruptly and swung around to face Narraway. “I think I underestimated you, Lieutenant. You’re going to be a damn nuisance, aren’t you? But if you think you can teach me the best way to handle this and earn the regiment’s loyalty and respect, you are profoundly mistaken. Which I will soon show you.”
    “Yes, sir,” Narraway said with a brief flicker of satisfaction. “I’m sure you will, sir, and with the utmost fairness. You can hardly fail to secure Tallis’s conviction, considering the circumstances.”
    “I don’t just want to secure his conviction, damn it,”Busby said sharply. “I want to get the matter over with, with the least pain to the men and women who have suffered abominations you can’t even begin to imagine.” He swiveled around and started to walk swiftly back toward the barracks and the entrenchment where the army had been besieged. “Come!” he commanded.
    Narraway turned and followed him, catching up with an effort. He did not want to go to the entrenchment again. He knew what had happened there, and could imagine the terror of it all. It was a barren square of ground, a hundred yards or so in either direction, with two- or three-story buildings along most of two sides. The rest was walled by simple earthworks, dug by spade and thrown up to less than the height of a man. During the eighteen days and nights of the incessant bombardment from Nana Sahib and his men, nine hundred people had lived there. Many had died of heatstroke, of cholera, or from their wounds.
    Narraway still shuddered as he pictured the people huddled together, terrified, exhausted, trying to protect one another, waiting for relief that never came. He could see the ghosts of them in his mind. He wanted to turn and walk away, but he could not ignore Busby, who washis senior officer. And perhaps even more than that, he did not want Busby to know how deeply affected he was.
    He stood silently. If Busby had anything to say, he would have to initiate the conversation himself.
    In the distance a dog barked, a woman called out a child’s name. There was an echo of laughter, exactly as if everything were perfectly normal—sounds of life, like new green shoots of trees coming up after a forest fire.
    “Don’t let them down, Narraway,” Busby said at last. “You owe them.”
    Narraway wanted to say something brave, about justice having nothing to do with emotion or personal loyalties, but all the words that came to his mind sounded trite, and they would only anger Busby. Worse than that, he would not truly believe in them himself.
    Busby was staring at him, waiting for his response.
    “As I see it, sir,” Narraway began awkwardly, “the most important thing is that when the mutiny’s over and order is restored, India knows that British justice is fair and objective, sir.”
    Busby shook his head, momentarily taken aback. He started to speak and then changed his mind.
    Narraway waited. He longed to leave this place, but he would not go until Busby did.
    “I don’t envy you,” Busby said at last. “I suppose you have to make a show of it. Mind you do just enough.”
    “I didn’t choose this, sir,” Narraway answered.
    “Nobody chooses their military duty, Lieutenant,” Busby said tartly. He stared across the entrenchment. “These poor devils didn’t choose to be here either. Just make as much of an effort as you have to so there’s no question that the hanging is fair.”
    “Yes, sir,” Narraway answered automatically. He was not sure if he meant it.
    Busby turned and began to walk back the way they had come, his shoulders squared, but there was no spring in his step, no vigor.
    Narraway waited a few moments longer, then left also, feeling as if he were turning his back on the ghosts, in a way denying them.
    He needed to think. At the moment all he had for a defense was to try to discredit the witnesses Busby would call, and that was precisely what Busby had just warned him