"Vere are ve goink?" he said, steadying himself as they bounced over a rut.
"A little place I know, sir," said Jackrum. "Nice and quiet."
"Goot. I need to exercise the imps. Zey get fretful if zey are cooped up for too long." Otto pushed aside a stack of paper and revealed his large picture-making box. He lifted a small hatch.
"Rise und shine, lads," he said. There was a chorus of high-pitched voices from inside.
"I'd better just give you the heads up re Tiger, Mr de Worde," said Jackrum, as the cart rolled up an old logging track.
"Tiger? Who's Tiger?"
"Oops," said Jackrum. "Sorry, that's what we call the lieutenant, sir, on account of him being so brave. Forget I said that, will you?"
"Brave, is he?" said de Worde.
"And clever, sir. Don't let him fool you, sir. He is one of the great milit'ry minds of his generation, sir."
Polly's mouth dropped open. She had suggested they lied to the man, but... this?
"Really? Then why is he just a lieutenant?" said the writer.
"Ah, I can see there's no fooling you, sir," said Jackrum, oozing knowingness. "Yes, it's a puzzler, sir, why he calls himself a lieutenant. Still, I dare say he has his reasons, eh? Just like Heinrich calling himself a captain, right?" He tapped the side of his nose. "I see everything, sir, and I don't say a word!"
"All I could find out was that he did some kind of desk job at your HQ, sergeant," said de Worde. Polly saw him taking his notebook out, slowly and carefully.
"Yes, I expect that's what you would find out, sir," said Jackrum, with a huge conspiratorial wink. "And then, when things are at their worst, they let him out, sir. They unleash him, sir. Me, I don't know a thing, sir."
"What does he do, explode?" said de Worde.
"Haha, nice one, sir!" said Jackrum. "No, sir. What he does, sir, is assess situations, sir. I don't understand it myself, sir, not being a big thinker, but the proof of the pudding, sir, is in the eating of same, and last night we were jumped by eight - twenty Zlobenian troopers, sir, and the lieutenant just assessed the situation in a flash and skewered five of the buggers, sir. Like a kebab, sir. Mild as milk to look at, but rouse him and he's a whirlwind of death. Of course, you did not hear it from me, sir."
"And he's in charge of a bunch of recruits, sergeant?" said de Worde. "That doesn't sound very likely to me."
"Recruits who captured some crack cavalrymen, sir," said Jackrum, looking pained. "That's leadership for you. Comes the hour, comes the man, sir. I'm just a simple old soldier, sir, seen 'em come and seen 'em go. Upon my oath I am not a lying man, sir, but I look at Lieutenant Blouse in wonderment."
"He just seemed confused, to me," said de Worde, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
"That was a bit of concussion, sir. He took a wallop that would have felled a lesser man, and still got back onto his feet. Amazing, sir!"
"Hmm," said de Worde, making a note.
The cart splashed across the shallow little stream and rocked into the gully. Lieutenant Blouse was sitting on a rock. He'd made an effort, but his tunic was grubby, his boots were muddy, his hand was swollen and one ear, despite Igorina's ministrations, was still inflamed. He had his sword on his knees. Jackrum carefully brought the cart to a halt by a thicket of birch trees. All four of the enemy troopers were tied up against the cliff. Apart from them, the camp appeared to be deserted.
"Where are the rest of the men, sergeant?" whispered de Worde, as he slid down off the cart.
"Oh, they're around, sir," said Jackrum. "Watching you. Probably not a good idea to make any sudden move, sir."
No one else was visible... and then Maladict faded into view.
People never really looked at things, Polly knew. They glanced. And what had been a patch of scrub was now Corporal Maladict. Polly stared. He'd cut a hole in the centre of his old blanket, and the mud and grass stains on the mildewed greyness had turned him into part of the landscape until he'd saluted. He'd also stuck leafy twigs all over his hat.
Sergeant Jackrum goggled. Polly had never really seen proper goggling before, but the sergeant had the face to do it at championship level. She could feel him drawing breath while at the same time assembling cusswords for a right royal thundering - and then he remembered he was playing Sergeant Big Jolly Fat Man, and this was not the time to segue into Sergeant Incandescent.
"Lads, eh?" he chuckled to de Worde. "What will they think of next?"
De Worde nodded nervously, pulled a wad of newspapers from under his seat, and advanced on the lieutenant.
"Mr de Worde, isn't it?" said Blouse, standing up. "Perks, can we manage a cup of, er, 'saloop' for Mr de Worde? There's a good chap. Do take a rock, sir."