"Halt! Who goes there? Friend or foe!"
The light from a cooking-fire glinted off a crossbow.
"See?" whispered Jackrum. "This is where your uniform is your friend. Aren't you glad you kept it?"
He swaggered forward, and spat tobacco between the young sentry's boots.
"My name's Jackrum," he said. "That's Sergeant Jackrum. As for the other bit... you choose."
"Sergeant Jackrum?" said the boy, his mouth staying open.
"Yes, lad."
"What, the one who killed sixteen men at the Battle of Zop?"
"There was only ten of 'em, but good lad for knowin' it."
"The Jackrum who carried General Froc through fourteen miles of enemy territory?"
"That's right."
Polly saw teeth in the gloom as the sentry grinned.
"My dad told me he fought with you at Blunderberg!"
"Ah, that was a hot battle, that was!" said Jackrum.
"No, he meant in the pub afterwards. He pinched your drink and you smacked him in the gob and he kicked you in the nadgers and you hit him in the guts and he blacked your eye and then you hit him with a table and when he came round his mates stood him beer for the evening for managing to lay nearly three punches on Sergeant Jackrum. He tells the story every year, when it's the anniversary and he's pis¨C reminiscing."
Jackrum thought for a moment, and then jabbed a finger at the young man. "Joe Hubukurk, right?" he said.
The smile broadened to the point where the top of the young man's head was in danger of falling off. "He'll be smirking all day when I tell him you remember him, sarge! He says that where you piss grass don't grow!"
"Well, what can a modest man say to that, eh?" said Jackrum.
Then the young man frowned. "Funny, though, he thought you were dead, sarge," he said.
"Tell him I bet him a shilling I'm not," said Jackrum. "And your name, lad?"
"Lart, sarge. Lart Hubukurk."
"Glad you joined, are you?"
"Yes, sarge," said Lart loyally.
"We're just having a stroll, lad. Tell your dad I asked after him."
"I will, sarge!" The boy stood to attention like a one-man guard of honour. "This is a proud moment for me, sarge!"
"Does everyone know you, sarge?" whispered Polly, as they walked away.
"Aye, pretty much. On our side, anyway. I'll make so bold as to declare that most of the enemy that meets me don't know any hing much afterwards."
"I never thought it was going to be like this!" hissed Shufti.
"Like what?" said Jackrum.
"There's women and children! Shops! I can smell bread baking! It's like a... a city."