Monstrous Regiment

moment to stare at nothing. “He never got promoted on account of his stutter, but I had a good shouty voice, and officers like that. But Willie never minded, not even when I made it to sergeant. And then he got killed at Sepple, right next to me.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “You don’t have to be, you didn’t kill him,” said Jackrum evenly. “But I stepped over his body and skewered the bugger that did. Wasn’t his fault. Wasn’t my fault. We were soldiers. And then a few months later I had a bit of a surprise, and he was called William, too, just like his father. Good job I had a bit of leave, eh? Me gran raised him for me, put him to a trade as an armorer over in Scritz. Good trade, that. No one kills a good armorer. They tell me he looks just like his dad. A captain I met once had bought a bloody good sword off him. Showed it to me, not knowin’ the his’try, o’course. Damn good sword. It had scroll work on the hilt and everything, very classy. He’s married with four kids now, I heard. Got a carriage and pair, servants, big house…yeah, I see you’re paying attention…”
    “Wazzer—well, Wazzer and the Duchess said—”
    “Yeah, yeah, they talked about Scritz, and a sword,” said Jackrum. “That’s when I knew it wasn’t just me watchin’ over you lads. I knew you’d survive. The old girl needed you.”
    “So you’ve got to go there, Sarge,” said Polly.
    “Got to? Who says? I’ve served the old girl the whole of my life, and she’s got no call on me now. I’m my own man, always have been.”
    “Are you, Sarge?” said Polly.
    “Are you crying, Perks?”
    “Well…it’s a bit sad, Sarge.”
    “Oh, I daresay I sobbed a bit too, once in a while,” said Jackrum, still tucking the tobacco into the new pouch. “But when all’s said and done, I’ve had a good life. Saw the cavalry break at the Battle of Slomp. I was part of the Thin Red Line that turned aside the Heavy Brigade at Sheep’s Drift, I saved the imperial flag from four real bastards at Raladan, and I’ve been to a lot of foreign countries and met some very interesting people, who I mostly subsequently killed before they could do me over good and proper. Lost a lover, still got a son…there’s many a woman who’s faced worse, believe me.”
    “And…you spotted other girls…”
    “Hah! Became a kind of hobby, really. Most of ’em were frightened little things, running away from god knows what. They got found out soon enough. And there were plenty like Shufti, chasin’ their lad. But there were a few who had what I call the twinkle . A bit of fire, maybe. They just needed pointing in the right direction. I gave them a leg up, you might say. A sergeant’s a powerful man, sometimes. A word here, a nod there, sometimes even doctorin’ some paperwork, a whisper in the dark—”
    “—a pair of socks,” said Polly.
    “Yeah, that sort of thing,” said Jackrum, grinning. “Always a big concern to them, the whole latrine business. Least of your worries, I used to say. In peace no one cares, in battle everyone takes a piss the same way, and damn quickly, too. Oh, I helped ’em. I was their whatsit, their eminence grease , and grease it was, too, slidin’ them to the top. Jackrum’s Little Lads, I called ’em.”
    “And they never suspected?”
    “What, suspect Jolly Jack Jackrum, so full of rum and vinegar?” said Jackrum, the old evil grin coming back. “Jack Jackrum, who could stop a bar fight by belchin’? No, sir! I daresay some of ’em suspected something, maybe, I daresay they worked out that there was something going on somewhere, but I was just the big fat sergeant who knew everyone and everything and drank everything, too.”
    Polly dabbed at her eyes.
    “What are you going to do now, then, if you don’t go to Scritz?”
    “Oh, I’ve got a bit put by,” said Jackrum. “More than a bit, in point of actual fact. Pillage, plunder, loot…it all adds up, whatever you call it. I didn’t piss it all up against a wall like the other lads, right? I expect I can remember most of the bleedin’ places I buried it. Always thought I might open an inn, or maybe a knocking shop…oh, a proper high-class place, you don’t have to look at me like that, nothin’ like that stinking tent. No, I’m talkin’ about one with a chef and chandeliers and a lot of red velvet, very exclusive. I’d get some nobby lady to front it and I’d be the bouncer and run the bar. Here’s a tip, lad, for your future