The Heroes

of the Union snapping proudly.
Perhaps one of the very flags that Mitterick so carelessly lost only a day ago? How soon some trespasses are forgotten. The incompetent rewarded along with the wronged.
    As if to illustrate that very point, Gorst caught sight of Felnigg beside the road in his new uniform, staff officers in a crowing crowd around him, giving hell to a tearful young lieutenant beside a tipped-over cart, gear, weapons and for some reason a full-sized harp spilled from its torn awning like the guts from a dead sheep.
    ‘General Felnigg!’ called Gorst jauntily. ‘Congratulations on your promotion!’
It could not have happened to a less deserving drunken pedant.
He briefly considered the possibility of challenging the man to the duel he had been too cowardly to demand a few evenings before. Then to thepossibility of backhanding him into the ditch as he passed.
But I have other business.
    ‘Thank you, Colonel Gorst. I wished to let you know how very much I admire your—’
    Gorst could not even be bothered to make excuses. He simply barged past, scattering Felnigg’s staff – most of whom had recently been Marshal Kroy’s staff – like a plough through muck and left them clucking and puffing in his wake.
And away to fuck with the lot of you, I’m free. Free!
He sprang up and punched the air.
    Even the wounded near the charred gates of Osrung looked happy as he passed, tapping shoulders with his fist, muttering banal encouragements.
Share my joy, you crippled and dying! I have plenty to spare!
    And there she stood, among them, giving out water.
Like the Goddess of mercy. Oh, soothe my pain.
He had no fear now. He knew what he had to do.
    ‘Finree!’ he called, then cleared his throat and tried again, a little deeper. ‘Finree.’
    ‘Bremer. You look … happy.’ She lifted one enquiring eyebrow, as though a smile on his face was as incongruous as on a horse, or a rock, or a corpse.
But get used to this smile, for it is here to stay!
    ‘I am, very happy. I wanted to say …’
I love you.
‘Goodbye. I am returning to Adua this evening.’
    ‘Really? So am I.’ His heart leaped. ‘Well, as soon as my husband is well enough to be moved.’ And plummeted back down. ‘But they say that won’t be long.’ She looked annoyingly delighted about it too.
    ‘Good. Good.’
Fuck him.
Gorst realised his fist was clenched, and forced it open.
No, no, forget him. He is nothing. I am the winner, and this is my moment.
‘I received a letter from the king this morning.’
    ‘Really? So did we!’ She blurted it out, seizing him by the arm, eyes bright. His heart leaped again, as though her touch was a second letter from his Majesty. ‘Hal is being restored to his seat on the Open Council.’ She looked furtively around, then whispered it in a husky rush. ‘They’re making him lord governor of Angland!’
    There was a long, uncomfortable pause while Gorst took that in.
Like a sponge soaking up a puddle of piss.
‘Lord … governor?’ It seemed a cloud had moved across the sun. It was no longer quite so warm upon his face as it had been.
    ‘I know! There will be a parade, apparently.’
    ‘A parade.’
Of cunts.
A chilly breeze blew up and flapped his loose shirt. ‘He deserves it.’
He presided over a blown-up bridge and so he gets a parade?
‘You deserve it.’
Where’s my fucking parade?
    ‘And your letter?’
    My letter? My pathetic embarrassment of a letter?
‘Oh … the king has asked me to take up my old position as First Guard.’ Somehow he couldno longer muster quite the enthusiasm he had when he opened it.
Not lord governor, oh no! Nothing like lord governor. The king’s first hand-holder. The king’s first cock-taster. Pray don’t wipe your own arse your Majesty, let me!
    ‘That’s wonderful news.’ Finree smiled as though everything had turned out just right. ‘War is full of opportunities, after all, however terrible it may be.’
    It is pedestrian news. My triumph is all spoiled. My garlands rotted.
‘I thought …’ His face twitched. He could not cling on to his smile any longer. ‘My success seems quite meagre now.’
    ‘Meagre? Well, of course not, I didn’t mean—’
    ‘I’ll never have anything worth the having, will I?’
    She blinked. ‘I—’
    ‘I’ll never have you.’
    Her eyes went wide. ‘You’ll— What?’
    ‘I’ll never have you, or anyone like you.’ Colour burned up red under her freckled cheeks. ‘Then let me be honest. War is