"Judging by all the notes pinned on that packet, it has been following you around for years, sergeant," said Blouse. "You know the military. That is your official discharge, I am afraid. I cannot rescind it. I am sorry."
"But - " Jackrum began.
"It bears the Duchess's signature, sergeant. Will you argue with that? I said I am sorry. In any case, what would you do? We will not be sending out any more recruiting parties."
"What? But we always need men, sir!" Jackrum protested. "And I'm fit and well again, got the stamina of a horse - "
"You were the only man to return with recruits, sergeant. That is how the matter is."
The sergeant hesitated for a moment, and then saluted. "Yessir! Very good, sir! Will see the new lads settled in, sir! Pleasure to have served, sir!"
"Can I ask something?" said Maladict.
"You do not address an officer directly, private," snapped Jackrum.
"No, let the man speak, sergeant," said the lieutenant. "These are... unusual times, after all. Yes, my man?"
"Did I hear you say we're going into battle without training, sir?"
"Oh, well, most of you will almost certainly be pikemen, haha," said the lieutenant nervously. "Not a lot of training there, eh? You just need to know which end is which, haha." He looked as though he wanted to die.
"Pikemen?" said Maladict, looking puzzled.
"You heard the lieutenant, Private Maladict," snapped the sergeant.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," said Maladict, stepping back into the ranks.
"Are there any more questions?" said Blouse, looking along the line. "Jolly good, then. We leave by the last boat, at midnight. Carry on, sergeant... for now. What was the other thing... oh, yes. And I shall need a batman."
"Volunteers to be the lieutenant's batman step forward! Not you, Private Maladict!" snapped the sergeant.
No one moved.
"Oh, come now," said the lieutenant.
Polly slowly raised a hand. "What's a batman, sir?"
The sergeant grinned mirthlessly. "Fair question," he said. "A batman is, like, a personal servant who takes care of the officer. Fetches his meals to him, sees he's smartly turned out, that style of thing. So's he is free to perform his duties more adequatelier."
Igor stepped forward. "Igorth are uthed to thervice, thargeant," he said.
Using the amazing powers of deafness and restricted vision sometimes available even to the most nervous officers, the lieutenant appeared not to notice him. He looked fixedly at Polly.
"What about you, private?" he said.
"Private Perks used to work in a bar, sir," the sergeant volunteered.
"Capital. Report to my quarters in the inn at six, Private Perks. Carry on, sergeant."
As the skinny horse staggered away, Sergeant Jackrum directed his glare at the squad, but there was no real fire to it. He appeared to be operating on automatic, with his mind elsewhere. "Don't just stand there trying to look pretty! There's uniforms and weapons inside! Get kitted up! If you want grub, cook it yerself! At the double! Disssssssmiss!"
The squad dashed for the barracks, propelled by sheer volume. But Polly hesitated. Corporal Strappi hadn't moved since the snigger had been cut short. He was staring blankly at the ground.
"You all right, corporal?" she said.
"You go away, Parts," said the corporal, in a low voice that was much worse than his normal petulant shout. "Just go away, all right?"
She shrugged, and followed the others. But she had noticed the steaming dampness round the corporal's feet.