Surgeon-Major Robertson finds himself havin' to defend the fort with about three hundred rounds per man and not much in the way of supplies. One massed attack follows another. The fort is fired on repeatedly, yet somehow Robertson holds on and keeps the fort from burnin' to the ground. He holds on long enough for Sir Robert Low to arrive with three brigades and Colonel Kelly with one. Both commanders had to fight for every inch of ground along the way. They save Robertson, put Umra Khan to flight, and breathe a mighty sigh of relief, thinkin' its all over. And just to be on the safe side, so they don't have to fight for every inch of ground goin' back, it's decided to establilsh a garrison in the Malakand Pass to keep the road open: Now we come at last to a gentlemen who calls himself Sadullah, referred to hereabouts as the Mad Mullah. Rather like that Mahdi chap General 'Chinese' Gordon ran afoul of in Khartoum. Am I losin' you?"
"No, go on," said Andre. "This is fascinating."
Learoyd grinned. "You'll find it less so, miss, I promise you. While all this was goin' on, our supposed ally in Kabul, the Emir Abdur Rahman, called a sort of council of the local holy men in all these parts, to study the Koran or some such. While he's being a genial chap to all the lads in Simla, the emir tells all the holy men about how General Gordon got his head up on a pike down in Khartoum and how we're havin' other minor troubles here and there, and he tells them that the Prophet has decreed the time has come for the infidel firinghi, and so on and so forth. Thus, havin' attended Sunday school, the holy men go forth to spread the word. And our friend Sadullah spreads it finer than any man I know. Next thing the boys up in the Malakand know, they've got themselves a bloody jehad upon their heads.
"Accordin' to the latest communication, they were havin' themselves a go at a few chukkers of polo when about 10,000 Ghazis came screamin' down their throats. They're hangin' on up there, holdin' off against a hundred to one odds, and praying' like Hell, if you'll excuse the expression. Father, that we'll get there in time to save them all from bein' butchered. The Guides have already left, the lancers leave tonight, and us Tommys, bein' the least mobile, leave first thing in the mornin.."
He turned to Delaney. "You'll be good enough to clear the way for us, I'm sure, sir. We'll do what we can on our part. After all, we'll have the Father with us. You watch, he'll get there and convert them all to Christianity and they'll throw down all their weapons and join us in a chorus of 'Bringin' in the Sheaves.'
"An' I couldn't ‘ave told it better meself," Mulvaney said, " 'ceptin' I wouldn't 'ave taken so bloody long a time about it." He pushed back his chair and got up from the table. "Gentlemen, and lady, you'll excuse me, I am sure. but I've to go an' see about me kit."
He tossed Delaney a half drunken salute and shambled off.
"Take my advice, Father," said Learoyd. "Go home."
"I'm afraid 1 cannot, Private Learoyd," said Lucas.
Learoyd rose. "Well, then, much as it may go against your Christian conscience, you may find it more useful to lay aside your Bible for a time and do your convertin' with a rifle. Good night to you."
Lucas looked across the table at Finn and Andre, his mouth set in a grim expression. "Who was the idiot who decided this would be a good scenario for temporal confrontations?"
Andre shook her head. "I didn't hear anything in what he said that contradicted history. If there are any anomalies present, if there's any interference, it hasn't affected the scenario yet."
"That we know of," said Finn. "I'd keep an eye on Learoyd if I were you, Lucas. Despite the occasional lapse into slang, it strikes me that his conversation is way too educated for a mere army private. And scuttlebut or no, he's a lot more well informed than the average soldier."
"That had occurred to me," said Lucas. "I think I'll stick close to all three of
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