Hervey 11 - On His Majesty's Service Read Online Free Page A

been born in the great house rather than one of its cabins – that his company would be sought by gentlemen of the best of families. When first Hervey had introduced him at Hounslow, Lord Holderness had expressed himself delighted: ‘a fine-looking man’, with a ‘gentlemanlike mien’.
    Only a certain weariness with life on Fairbrother’s part (although not so much, perhaps, as when they had first met eighteen months or so ago) stood occasionally between them. Yet so erratic was it, for his enthusiasm for knowledge seemed at times to know no bounds. But then Fairbrother never admitted himself to be a willing soldier in the way that Hervey was; he had not thought himself a soldier from an early age. His father had purchased a commission for him in the Jamaica Militia, and thence in the Royal Africans (a corps which more resembled the penitentiary than the regular army), and then on Hervey’s recommendation and entreaty Fairbrother had quit his indolent half pay at the Cape to accompany the Mounted Rifles to the frontier as interpreter. Their first meeting had indeed been unpropitious; Hervey had very near walked away in contempt. But now this handsome, half-caste, gentlemanlike, disinclined soldier was his paramount, boon companion.
    The clock began striking eleven as they walked under the arch of the Horse Guards – in step, for Fairbrother had picked up Hervey’s as they approached (which amused his friend since Fairbrother had always affected an unmilitary air) – and Hervey returned the sentry’s salute as they made for the oddly unimposing door into the headquarters of the commander-in-chief of His Majesty’s Land Forces. Inside, an orderly showed them to a waiting room. Hervey took off his greatcoat, bidding Fairbrother to do likewise, and moved to the fire to warm his hands.
    Hervey was now revealed in the undress uniform of a lieutenant-colonel of the 6th Light Dragoons rather than of the Cape Mounted Rifles, which hitherto he had been assiduous in wearing, for his substantive promotion on the regular establishment had only been lately gazetted. He wore no sword, as was appropriate for an ‘interview with refreshment appropriate to the time of day’, but carried, wrapped in leather, an iklwa taken at the fight at Ngwadi’s kraal, which he intended presenting to the commander-in-chief. Fairbrother, in the green serge and black buttons of a captain of the Rifles, appeared unmoved by his proximity to power and glory – which was exactly as Hervey would have it, since it was his design to have his friend impress their ‘host’.
    ‘I thought that it bespoke history the last time I passed through the arch, but did not remark on it,’ said Fairbrother, watching through a frosted window the change of mounted sentries below. ‘Why is it, do you suppose, that the videttes stand on this side and not at what is manifestly the front of the building?’
    ‘I may tell you very precisely,’ replied Hervey, nodding his thanks to a porter who had brought them coffee, ‘because I asked the same question of John Howard some years ago.’
    But before he could give any explanation the orderly returned to take him to his call. He nodded to Fairbrother – he would wait here, as ‘arranged’ – and then walked along the familiar corridor, spurs ringing, to the antechamber of the commander-in-chief’s office, where sat Lieutenant-Colonel the Honourable Valentine Youell working at his papers.
    Hervey saluted as he entered, a courtesy rather than a requirement, the custom on entering an office, no matter what the rank of its occupant. In like fashion the staff lieutenant-colonel rose to acknowledge the salutation with a military bow, if perhaps more stiffly (reckoned Hervey) than would his old friend John Howard.
    ‘I have brought with me Captain Edward Fairbrother of the Corps of Cape Mounted Riflemen,’ Hervey explained as he took the proffered chair. ‘I wish to present him to Lord Hill on account of his service