its table, to this sudden imposition of picket duty.
As he entered the cloisters, where standing stalls for the three hundred or so troop horses had been improvised, just within the letter of Wellington’s ordinance that churches should not be taken for stabling, there was an audible groan. Every dragoon knew that Hervey on picket meant twice as long an inspection, but if the respect were grudging it was real none the less. ‘This hay is poor, Sarn’t-Major,’ he began, though he might have said the same at any stables parade since the summer before.
‘As bad as I’ve seen, sir. We’re damping it down but I hope the quartermasters come back with better soon or they’ll all be coughing on it.’
It was ‘C’ Troop’s man on duty, a long-limbed Salopian whose father had been the Wynnstay’s huntsman for twenty years, and with the best hands in the serjeants’ mess.
‘And what is the ration of hard feed today?’
‘A half-stone of corn, sir; and good crushed barley it is, too. They had two pounds with chop first thing, then the same again at midday.’
‘Better than it has been but still not enough.’
‘About half what they need. We would not be hunting on this at home now.’
Hervey’s eye was next drawn to a sorrowful-looking chestnut tied up in a dark corner, away from the others, with its head down almost to the floor.
‘What is wrong with him?’ he asked the farrier close by.
‘Moon blindness, sir. I’m to shoot ’im as soon as I’ve taken ’is shoes off.’
‘Moon blindness?’ he replied.
‘Sir; it’s a disease of—’
‘Well, I know what it’s a disease of, Corporal, but there has not been a single case since I have been in the regiment.’
‘Tell the truth, sir, I ’aven’t seen a case, either.’
‘And nor have I,’ added the troop serjeant-major, whose fourteen years as a dragoon settled the question of its incidence.
‘This is the veterinary officer’s judgement?’ asked Hervey, though it was unlikely that it could have been any other’s.
‘Ay, sir,’ replied the farrier. ‘He saw ’im after first parade and then again after watering this afternoon.’
Hervey stepped closer and reached out slowly to the gelding’s head, but the horse made no move. He crouched down and saw that the left eye was closed, with swelling around it and a heavy discharge.
‘Careful, sir,’ called the farrier, ‘he’s terrible shy about the head.’
‘How does his eye look?’ Hervey asked.
‘Tell the truth again, sir, I ’aven’t seen it. It’s been closed all day. I’ll fetch his trooper.’
Private Clamp was a young man, eighteen or so, recently joined from the depot squadron. He wore his stable-clothes with the mark of the recruit and he looked unhappy.
‘Clamp, have any of your troop officers seen this horse?’
‘No, sir, not today. They’re all on outpicket.’
‘How long have you had him?’
‘Since I came, sir, just after Christmas,’ he answered, sounding even more unhappy.
‘Clamp, there is no need to look quite so troubled: I am not about to have you arrested.’
Clamp’s eyes began to go misty.
‘God help us,’ sighed the serjeant-major.
‘It’s not that, sir,’ continued the trooper, his soft Devon voice in a quaver, ‘I ’ave two ’orses to do, an’ they’re both chestnuts, an’ the other one were bad like this when I got ’ere, and if he goes like this one, too … well …’
‘That’s enough, Clamp, and stand properly to attention there!’ snapped the serjeant-major, though with just enough sympathy in his voice to stay the boy’s rambling without precipitating tears.
Hervey’s brow furrowed at the thought that there might be a second case. ‘I don’t understand it at all, Sarn’t-Major. Moon blindness – Specific Ophthalmia – it’s so rare that none of us has seen it before, and now there sounds as if there might be two horses in the same troop! Clamp, the other chestnut – he has been well enough since
As he entered the cloisters, where standing stalls for the three hundred or so troop horses had been improvised, just within the letter of Wellington’s ordinance that churches should not be taken for stabling, there was an audible groan. Every dragoon knew that Hervey on picket meant twice as long an inspection, but if the respect were grudging it was real none the less. ‘This hay is poor, Sarn’t-Major,’ he began, though he might have said the same at any stables parade since the summer before.
‘As bad as I’ve seen, sir. We’re damping it down but I hope the quartermasters come back with better soon or they’ll all be coughing on it.’
It was ‘C’ Troop’s man on duty, a long-limbed Salopian whose father had been the Wynnstay’s huntsman for twenty years, and with the best hands in the serjeants’ mess.
‘And what is the ration of hard feed today?’
‘A half-stone of corn, sir; and good crushed barley it is, too. They had two pounds with chop first thing, then the same again at midday.’
‘Better than it has been but still not enough.’
‘About half what they need. We would not be hunting on this at home now.’
Hervey’s eye was next drawn to a sorrowful-looking chestnut tied up in a dark corner, away from the others, with its head down almost to the floor.
‘What is wrong with him?’ he asked the farrier close by.
‘Moon blindness, sir. I’m to shoot ’im as soon as I’ve taken ’is shoes off.’
‘Moon blindness?’ he replied.
‘Sir; it’s a disease of—’
‘Well, I know what it’s a disease of, Corporal, but there has not been a single case since I have been in the regiment.’
‘Tell the truth, sir, I ’aven’t seen a case, either.’
‘And nor have I,’ added the troop serjeant-major, whose fourteen years as a dragoon settled the question of its incidence.
‘This is the veterinary officer’s judgement?’ asked Hervey, though it was unlikely that it could have been any other’s.
‘Ay, sir,’ replied the farrier. ‘He saw ’im after first parade and then again after watering this afternoon.’
Hervey stepped closer and reached out slowly to the gelding’s head, but the horse made no move. He crouched down and saw that the left eye was closed, with swelling around it and a heavy discharge.
‘Careful, sir,’ called the farrier, ‘he’s terrible shy about the head.’
‘How does his eye look?’ Hervey asked.
‘Tell the truth again, sir, I ’aven’t seen it. It’s been closed all day. I’ll fetch his trooper.’
Private Clamp was a young man, eighteen or so, recently joined from the depot squadron. He wore his stable-clothes with the mark of the recruit and he looked unhappy.
‘Clamp, have any of your troop officers seen this horse?’
‘No, sir, not today. They’re all on outpicket.’
‘How long have you had him?’
‘Since I came, sir, just after Christmas,’ he answered, sounding even more unhappy.
‘Clamp, there is no need to look quite so troubled: I am not about to have you arrested.’
Clamp’s eyes began to go misty.
‘God help us,’ sighed the serjeant-major.
‘It’s not that, sir,’ continued the trooper, his soft Devon voice in a quaver, ‘I ’ave two ’orses to do, an’ they’re both chestnuts, an’ the other one were bad like this when I got ’ere, and if he goes like this one, too … well …’
‘That’s enough, Clamp, and stand properly to attention there!’ snapped the serjeant-major, though with just enough sympathy in his voice to stay the boy’s rambling without precipitating tears.
Hervey’s brow furrowed at the thought that there might be a second case. ‘I don’t understand it at all, Sarn’t-Major. Moon blindness – Specific Ophthalmia – it’s so rare that none of us has seen it before, and now there sounds as if there might be two horses in the same troop! Clamp, the other chestnut – he has been well enough since
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