Chapter Eight
Second Lieutenant Sarsens eyed the blood on Jack’s sword and nudged Crimea. “What a lark.”
“It’s no lark,” Jack said, cleaning his blade. “Where is Colonel St John?”
The brigade was readying for action, with infantrymen checking their rifles and cavalrymen their sabres, while officers stood in small groups, urgently listening to their superiors’ orders.
“I’m here, Windrush. Glad to see you are all right.”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t see much, but I heard wheels with Ayub’s force, so I suspect he has artillery with him. I’d say that’s his entire army.”
“Whatever it is,” St John said, “We seem to have begun a battle. Young Lieutenant Maclaine has taken over his guns to fire on them.”
“Yes, sir. He probably saved my life.”
St John grunted. “That wasn’t his intention. He though
