"I shouldn't fink I could get by as a washerwoman," rumbled Jade. "I'll stay here and watch over Mal. Hah, if he's still after blood when he wakes up he's gonna have blunt teeth!"
They looked at one another in silence, embarrassed but defiant. Then there was the sound of someone clapping, slowly.
"Oh, very nice," said Jackrum. "A band of brothers, eh? Sorry... sisters. Oh dear, oh dear. Look, Blouse was a fool. It was prob'ly all them books. He read all that stuff about it being a noble thing to die for your country, I expect. I was never that keen on readin', but I know the job is making some other poor devil die for his."
He slewed his black tobacco from side to side. "I wanted you to be safe, lads. Down in the press of men, I reckoned I could get you through this, no matter how many friends the Prince has sent after you. I look at you lads, and I think: you poor boys, you don't know nothin' about war. What you goin' to do? Tonker, you are a crack shot, but after one shot who's backing you up while you reload? Perks, you know a trick or two, but the blokes in the castle will maybe know a trick or five. You're a good cook, Shufti; too bad it's going to be too hot in there. Will the Duchess turn aside arrows, Wazzer?"
"Yes. She will."
"I hope you are right, my lad," said Jackrum, giving the girl a long slow look. "Pers'nally, I've found religion in battle is as much use as a chocolate helmet. You'll need more than a prayer if Prince Heinrich catches you, I might add."
"We're going to try it, sarge," said Polly. "There's nothing for us in the army." "Will you come with us, sarge?" said Shufti.
"No, lad. Me as a washerwoman? I doubt it. Don't seem to have a skirt anywhere about me, for a start. Er... just one thing, lads. How are you going to get in?"
"In the morning. When we see the women going in again," said Polly.
"Got it all planned, general? And you'll be dressed as women?"
"Er... we are women, sarge," said Polly.
"Yes, lad. Technical detail. But you kitted out the rupert with all your little knick-knacks, didn't you? What're you going to do, tell the guards you opened the wrong cupboard in the dark?"
Another embarrassed silence descended. Jackrum sighed. "This ain't proper war," he said. "Still, I said I'd look after you. You are my little lads, I said." His eyes gleamed. "And you still are, even if the world's turned upside down. I'll just have to hope, Miss Perks, that you picked up a few tricks from ol' sarge, although I reckon you can think of a few of your own. And now I'd better get you kitted up, right?"
"Perhaps we could sneak in and steal something from the villages where the servants come from?" said Tonker.
"From a bunch of poor women?" said Polly, her heart sinking. "Anyway, there'd be soldiers everywhere."
"Well, how do we get women's clothes on a battlefield?" said Lofty.
Jackrum laughed, stood up, stuck his thumbs in his belt and grinned. "I told you, lads, you don't know nuffin' about war!" he said.
...and one of the things they hadn't known was that it has edges.
Polly wasn't certain what she'd expected. Men and horses, obviously. In her mind's eye they were engaged in mortal combat, but you couldn't go on doing that all day. So there would be tents. And that was about as far as the mind's eye had seen. It hadn't seen that an army on campaign is a sort of large, portable city. It has only one employer, and it manufactures dead people, but like all cities it attracts... citizens. What was unnerving was the sound of babies crying, off in the rows of tents. She hadn't expected that. Or the mud. Or the crowds. Everywhere there were fires, and the smell of cooking. This was a siege, after all. People had settled in.
Getting down onto the plain in the dark had been easy. There was only Polly and Shufti trailing after the sergeant, who'd said that more would be too many and in any case would attract too much attention.
There were patrols, but their edge had been dulled by sheer repetitiveness. Besides, the allies weren't expecting anyone to make much effort to get into the valley, at least in small groups. And men in the dark make a noise, far more noise than a woman. They'd located a Borogravian sentry in the gloom by the noise of him trying to suck a morsel of dinner out of his teeth.
But another one had located them when they were a stone's throw from the tents. He was young, so he was still keen.
"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?"