"You bastard," said the major softly.
"Shall I tell the truth today... Janet?" said Jackrum.
The sounds of battle were suddenly much louder. They poured into the room like the water rushing to fill a hole in the ocean floor, but all the sound in the world could not have filled that sudden, tremendous silence.
Jackrum strolled on towards another man. "Good to see you here, Colonel Cumabund!" he said cheerfully. "O' course, you were only Lieutenant Cumabund when I was under your command. Plucky lad you were, when you led us against that detachment of Kopelies. And then you took a nasty sword wound in the fracas, or just above, and I got you through with rum and cold water, and found that plucky you might be, but lad you weren't. Oh, how you gabbled away in your feverish delirium... Yes, you did. That's the truth... Olga."
He stepped round the table and started to stroll along behind the officers; those he passed stared woodenly ahead, not daring to turn, not daring to make any movement that would attract attention.
"You could say I know something about all of yez," he said. "Quite a lot about some of you, just enough about most of you. A few of you, well, I could write a book." He paused just behind Froc, who stiffened.
"Jackrum, I - " he began.
Jackrum put a hand on each of Froc's shoulders. "Fourteen miles, sir. Two nights, 'cos we lay up by day, the patrols were that thick. Cut about pretty dreadful, you were, but you got better nursing from me than any sawbones, I'd bet." He leaned forward until his mouth was level with the general's ear, and continued in a stage whisper: "What is there left about you that I don't know? So... are you really looking for the truth... Mildred?"
The room was a museum of waxworks. Jackrum spat on the floor.
"You cannot prove anything, sergeant," said Froc eventually, with the calm of an icefield.
"Well now, not as such. But they keep telling me this is the modern world, sir. I don't need proof, exactly. I know a man who'd have such a tale to tell, and it'd be in Ankh-Morpork in a couple of hours."
"If you leave this room alive," said a voice.
Jackrum smiled his evillest smile, and bore down on the source of the threat like an avalanche. "Ah! I thought one of yez would try that, Chloe, but I note you never made it beyond major, and no wonder since you try to bluff with no bleedin' cards in your hand. Nice try, though. But, first, I could take you to the bleedin' cleaners before those guards were back in here, upon my oath, and, second, you don't know what I've writ down and who else knows. I trained all you girls at one time or another, and some of the cunning you got, some of the mustard, some of the sense... well, you got it from me. Didn't you? So don't any of you go thinking you can be artful about this, because when it comes to cunning I am Mister Fox."
"Sergeant, sergeant, sergeant," said Froc wearily, "what is it you want?"
Jackrum completed his circuit of the table and finished in front of it, once again like a man before his judges.
"Well, blow me down," he said quietly, looking along the row of faces. "You didn't know, did you... you didn't know. Is there a... a man among you that knew? You thought, every one of you, that you were all alone. All alone. You poor devils. And look at you. More'n a third of the country's High Command. You made it on your own, ladies. What could you have done if you'd acted tog - "
He stopped, and took a step towards Froc, who looked down at her cloven paperwork. "How many did you spot, Mildred?"
"That will be 'general', sergeant. I'm still a general, sergeant. Or 'sir' will do. And your answer is: one or two. One or two."
"And you promoted them, did you, if they was as good as men?"
"Indeed not, sergeant. What do you take me for? I promoted them if they were better than men."
Jackrum opened his arms wide, like a ringmaster introducing a new act. "Then what about the lads I bought with me, sir? As cracking a bunch of lads as I've ever seen." He cast a bloodshot eye around the table. "And I'm good at weighing up a lad, as you all know. They'd be a credit to your army, sir!"
Froc looked at her colleagues on either side. An unspoken question harvested unsaid answers.
"Yes, well," she said. "All seems clear to us, in the light of new developments. When beardless lads dress up as gels, there's no doubt that people will get confused. And that's what we've got here, sergeant. Mere confusion. Mistaken identities. Much ado, in fact, about nothing. Clearly they are boys, and may return home right now with an honourable discharge."
Jackrum chuckled and stuck out a palm, flexing the fingers upwards like a man bargaining. Once again, there was the communion of spirits.
"Very well. They can, if they wish, continue in the army," said Froc. "With discretion, of course."
"No, sir!"
Polly stared at Jackrum, and then realized the words had, in fact, come from her own mouth.
Froc raised her eyebrows. "What is your name again?" she said.
"Corporal Perks, sir!" said Polly, saluting.
She watched Froc's face settle into an expression of condescending benevolence. If she uses the words "my dear" I shall swear, she thought.