softly. ‘I’ve been out on patrol or I’d have found you sooner.’ He reached out to tug at her company patch. ‘Thank God,’ he said, and showed her the rearing stag on his own.
‘Was Rodric . . . ?’
‘They put him in Dead . . . in the Leopard Passant,’ he whispered. ‘I couldn’t get him moved. I couldn’t help him. Emily, I’m so sorry.’
She read in his face the pain of seeing his little brother-in-law come fresh from training. Poor Rodric, lost out in the swamps, food for the leeches, graveless and alone. Had Father Burnloft dragged his way through a meaningless ceremony then, too, with ‘Rodric Marshwic’ dropped in amongst the names of strangers?
She wanted to say something, to tell Tubal it was not his fault, but she still carried the grief like a weight in the pit of her stomach, and it hurt. It hurt her and she could do nothing. When she collapsed into Tubal’s arms, she did not know whether it was because of Elise, or Rodric, or all the dead, the unnumbered dead of the war, or for herself.
He held her close for a long time, let her tears stain his uniform, and she felt a tremor in him, telling of his own losses and pain.
‘It’s all gone wrong, hasn’t it?’ she said.
‘It’s not how I’d have planned it.’
‘Tubal, what are we going to do?’
He held her at arm’s length. Mary’s cheery, harmless husband looked so stern now, so hard-edged.
‘We’re going to survive,’ he told her. ‘Don’t let them tell you different.’ And then he grinned, with the desperate, carefree expression of a man who has already lost, and has more to lose. ‘Welcome to Bad Rabbit,’ he told her.
‘Bad . . . what?’
He tapped her on her sleeve, meaning the company badge. ‘Look at it.’
She craned down to peer at the little heraldic design, then up at the company flags that flew above the camp. The black stag reared there, antlers high. ‘Stag Rampant,’ she said slowly, closed her eyes and then reopened them.
‘Do you see?’ he asked. And she did. It was a terrible thing, with death so close, but she started to laugh. The pompous-looking deer with its malformed antlers could just as easily have been a rabbit, a very badly made rabbit.
‘Oh, that’s funny . . . no, it shouldn’t be funny.’ But, all the same, she was laughing now. It felt so good to have something to laugh at, no matter how little. ‘What are the others then?’
‘The Leopard is Dead Cat,’ he explained, and she recalled she had seen most of the Leopard Passant troopers with their company badges sewn upside down, the strutting animal’s legs stiff in the air.
‘And the bear?’ The brown beast sitting on its thick haunches, one forepaw raised as though objecting to something at council.
‘Fat Squirrel,’ said Tubal, and she laughed until she cried.
Later, they sipped warm soup fetched from the kitchens, and she told him about home. Her words conjured up for him the Ghyer, Alice, the ball at Deerlings House, the Draft and, of course, Gravenfield. Not Mr Northway, never Mr Northway, but Tubal must have sensed the unseen worm that tunnelled through her narrative. He did not interrupt, though. He let her words tumble out at their own pace and in their own order. Outside, rain that had been a drizzle just after the funeral was a solid downpour now, and showing no signs of stopping.
‘Back home they keep saying it’s all going so well,’ she said. ‘It’s not, is it?’
Not that I’ve noticed,’ he admitted. ‘God, I wish I could see Mary again. I don’t like the fighting and dying part much, but it’s missing her I really object to.’
‘She’s very cross with you. She says you should write.’
A tight look came across his face. ‘I can’t.’
‘Then I will,’ she said. ‘I need to tell them. I need to tell them about Elise, poor Elise.’
‘Emily . . .’
‘I will write a letter,’ she decided. ‘How do I get it out of here? Do people go to Locke ever? To the trains?’
‘Emily, you can’t . . . Look, every letter has to go through the colonel. He reads them all. Why do you think I never wrote? I’m a printer. I deal in the truth of the written word. The only stuff that you can write is that drivel Rodric sent you that one time.’
‘But that’s . . . wrong!’
‘Isn’t it? But it’s all there is. I’ve tried, believe me.