Monstrous Regiment

eyebrows rise, and plunged on. “I was temporarily disguised as a girl, sir, in order to allay suspicion.”
    “And then you…clubbed him?”
    “Yessir. Once, sir.”
    “What in the world possessed you to stop at once?” said Blouse.
    “Sir?” said Polly as Horentz gasped. Blouse turned with an almost seraphic look of pleasure on his face.
    “And you, Sergeant,” he went on, “did you, in fact, lay a hand on the captain?”
    Jackrum took a step forward and saluted smartly. “Not as in fact per se and such, sir, no,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on a point some twelve feet high on the far wall. “I just considered, since he had invaded our country to capture our lads, sir, that it wouldn’t hurt if he experienced temporary feelings of shock and awe, sir. On my oath, sir, I am not a violent man.”
    “Of course not, Sergeant,” said Blouse. And now, while he still smiled, the smile was edged with a kind of malevolent glee.
    “For heavens’ sake, you fool, you can’t believe these ignorant yokels, they’re the dregs of—” Horentz began.
    “I do believe them, indeed I do,” said Blouse, shaking with nervous defiance. “I would believe their testimony against yours, sir, if they told me the sky was green. And it would appear that, untrained as they are, they have bested some of Zlobenia’s finest soldiers by wit and daring. I have every confidence that they have further surprises in store for us—”
    “Dropping your drawers would do it,” whispered Maladict.
    “Shutup!” hissed Polly, and then had to cram a fist into her mouth again.
    “I know you, Captain Horentz,” said Blouse, and, just for a moment, the captain looked worried. “I mean I know your sort. I’ve had to put up with you all my life. Big jovial bullies, with your brains in your breeches. You dare to come riding into our country and think we’re going to be frightened of you? You think you can appeal to me over the heads of my men? You demand? On the soil of my country?”
    “Captain?” murmured the cavalry sergeant, as Horentz stared open-mouthed at the lieutenant. “They’ll be here soon…”
    “Ah,” said Horentz uncertainly. Then he seemed, with some effort, to regain his composure. “Reinforcements are coming,” he snapped. “Free us now, you idiot, and I might just put this down to native stupidity. Otherwise I shall see to it that things go very, very badly for you and your…ha…men.”
    “Seven cavalrymen were considered not enough to deal with farm boys?” said Blouse. “You’re sweating, Captain. You are worried. And yet you have reinforcements coming?”
    “Permission to speak, sir!” barked Jackrum and went straight on to: “Cheesemongers! Get bleedin’ armed again right now! Maladict, you give Private Goom his sword back an’ wish him luck! Carborundum, you grab a handful of them twelve-foot pikes! The rest of—”
    “There’s these as well, Sarge,” said Maladict. “Lots of them. I got them off our friends’ saddles.” He held up what looked to Polly like a couple of large pistol crossbows, steely and sleek.
    “Horsebows?” said Jackrum, like a child opening a wonderful Hogswatch present. “That’s what you gets for leading a honest and sober life, my lads. Dreadful little engines they are. Let’s have two each!”
    “I don’t want unnecessary violence, Sergeant,” said Blouse.
    “Right you are, sir!” said the sergeant. “Carborundum! First man comes through that door runnin’, I want him nailed to the pub wall!” He caught the lieutenant’s eye, and added: “But not too hard!”
    …and someone did knock at the door.
    Maladict leveled two bows at it. Carborundum lifted a couple of pikes in either hand. Polly raised her cudgel, a weapon she at least knew how to use. The other boys, and girls, raised whatever weapon Threeparts Scallot had been able to procure.
    There was silence. Polly looked around.
    “Come in?” she suggested.
    “Yeah, right, that should do it,” said Jackrum, rolling his eyes.
    The door was pushed open and a small, dapper man stepped through carefully. In build, coloring, and hairstyle he looked rather like Mala—
    “A vampire?” said Polly softly.
    “Oh, damn,” said Maladict.
    The newcomer’s clothing, however, was unusual. It was an old-fashioned evening dress coat with the sleeves removed and many, many pockets sewn all over it. In front of him, slung around his neck, was a large black box.
    Against all common sense, he beamed