17th May - After the Review.

"And where is that sabre from that proves you can use it?" Wellesley asked coldy, ignoring the question of spying for now. "Any man can wear a sword."

George grinned and then drew the sabre out and laid on the desk. It was a beautiful and, - to English eye, - peculiar weapon, and though it was well cared for, it had obviously seen long service.
'This sword belonged to the man I spoke of. He gave it to me.'

"And who was he?"

'My commanding officer, sir. A.. what is the equivalent... Ah, yes, a Major of Black Sea Cossack Host.' George smiled, as if saying: see, I have nothing to hide.

"I see," Wellesley repeated. He was not in the least impressed. Service with one army did not in the least mean inherited trust in another. "Does this major have a name? And what were you doing fighting with the Russians?"

And also who against?

George smirked.
'Shall I tell the whole story, sir? I believe I will, I promised to speak plainly and not withhold anything that might have bearing on my service here. As you probably heard, my mother is Polish. When my thankfully late father created a scandal by openly abandoning her for his mistress, she decided to move back to her parents estates. I was twelve at the time and hated my father passionately, my greatest desire was to be as unlike him as possible. A man, who became my valet of sorts was an old cossack who served with my maternal grandfather in the army. When I was fourteen my head became so full of their stories and legends that I ran away to join the Black Sea Host, where my valet was from, hoping that they'll welcome me with open arms.' George grinned.

'You can imagine how untrue it was, but I stayed and managed to become a passable soldier, receiving this sword as a show of trust. Later, when my family found me and my father died, I went back to England.'

Wellesley raised an eyebrow.

"Very melodramatic," he said. "But a sword, no matter how exotic, proves nothing to me. It only proves that you have served the interests of another nation besides Britain."

George grinned for a moment, then chuckled, unperturbed by Wellesley's attitude.
'You asked about it and I told you, if I for a moment thought that this sword proved anything to anyone...' George picked up the sabre, putting it back into scabbard. 'And, sir, I did not serve another nation's interests, I served my own.' He held up his hand. 'And yes, you will no doubt say, that it means that I am serving my own interests now too. Well, that is true to an extent, but then it is true about all of us. Show me one selfless servant of Britain and I'll show you a liar. I am many things, no doubt bad in the eyes of others, but I am not a traitor.'

Wellesley looked at Hunter steadily.

"Not at the moment anyway. That rather depends whether you stop your night visits to Von Dorn."

'Visits, sir? I've been to see him once to pick up a letter for you, sir, please don't try to read more into the situation than there is. Besides, do you think me such an idiot that I would go a-visiting shady men when I have your spies chasing me about, sir?' There was mirth in George's eyes.

"And what makes you think they are my spies?"

'Whose else, sir? You are the only person who would have any reason and resources to have me followed. Besides, not all your men are as good as you at hiding things, sir. If one is observant enough, one sees things. And the timing was very suspicious.' George paused. 'Though I was not absolutely sure until last night that they were yours. I am sorry I hurt one of them, but I must say he was a very good fighter.'

Wellesley stared at Hunter with a cold fury.

"Whether they were 'my' men, as you put it, or not I would advise that you steer well clear of Colonel Hartigan from now on," he said flatly. "The man is currently in hospital severely wounded, but for some reason if he survives he has sworn that he will have your balls."

George shook a finger at the General.
'Ah, ah. I made sure not to hurt him so it would be life threatening. If he dies, then it would be the fault of an inept doctor and the Colonel's struggles to free himself rather than submit to my desire to take him to Major Hogan.' He blushed a little realising that he just shook a finger at the General. 'Anyway, as I said, at the time I was not sure he was your man, sir, I was merely trying to defend myself.' George looked straight at the General. 'What I fail to understand why he has such an obsession with my balls, he already had them.'

Wellesley delicately raised his eyebrows, as Hunter realised that he had overstepped the mark.

"An how, exactly, is that?"

'Which manoeuvre do you think he used to escape my evil traitorous clutches, sir? A punch on the nose doesn't disable a man quite as effectively.' George smiled ruefully.

Wellesley decided that this conversation was not taking on a form that he liked. Hunter was so... detached. He smirked at everything and everyone - it was not a healthy attitude for a man of rank.

"Well it seems you have provided yourself with the answer you wanted," he said softly, but dangerously. "Are there anymore accusations you wush to make? Any more fingers you wish to wag in my face? Because if there are you had better get it over and done with now."

George sensed that the softness of the General's voice was deceiving, and his eyes narrowed just a fraction.
'I did not accuse you, sir, I just stated the facts. The fact that I let my temper get away with me and hinted at them in public is regrettable, and I am sorry for it, but do not mistake my intentions, sir. I have no interest in accusing you, I promised to serve you to the best of my ability and I will, even if that requires being insulted.' Hunter's voice was cold again: he was prepared a moment ago to try and repair whatever has gone wrong in their relationship from the moment they met, but it seemed that the General delighted in conflict.

Wellesley frowned. Hunter felt that he was the one insulted?

"Make sure that you are not serving anyone else at the same time," he said icily. "I have warned you Hunter, several times now I believe, about your conduct whilst you are one of my officers. I do not wish to have to have such a discussion again."

'I do not serve anyone else, sir, and I cannot understand why you persist in thinking that I do. What is it you think I am hiding from you, sir?' George seemed intent on making the most of permission to speak plainly.

What was it really that made him suspect Hunter? Because he was a newcomer? Because the boy was forced upon him? He had no proof, no definite incident in his mind that had made it so.

That thought struck him hard. Could it be that he was being unfair to Hunter? Was he mistreating him just because he did not like him? There had been plenty of junior officers he did not like, yet he had never mistreated them for all he might have wanted to. So what was it.

"I do not know," he admitted, still keeping his gaze fixed on Hunter. "If I knew then there would be no point in hiding it from me. But I know that you are not being honest with me about something."

Call it a soldier's instinct. Sometimes you lived on uncertainties, on theories and feeling that had no basis in logic or plain fact - and every part of his instinct, though he so desperately wanted it to stop, screamed at him that something was not right.

George held the gaze, judging whether he should admit anything or not. He looked away for a moment, then looked back, looking a little sad, but resolute.
'Yes, I am, sir. I will tell you and I will accept the consequences, but I will ask for one thing: should you wish to court-martial me or have me hanged, I only ask that it will be for some other reason. I do not care for my own reputation, but it might smear that of others."

For a moment Wellesley stared at Hunter uncomprehending, before it sunk in that he had actually pushed the boy into a position where he would talk. Dear God, there was something to confess? He swallowed and nodded.

"I can make no absolute guarantees, Hunter, as I do not yet know they magnitude of what it is you wish to impart. But I will promise you that I will exercise my powers of discretion to the full."

George nodded somberly.
'Very well, sir, I understand. After all I have no right to ask you even for that.' He took a deep breath. 'My mother, sir, was always loyal to one country, and it was not Poland. When orders came that I was to join you as an ADC, naturallly, it soon was known to everyone among her friends, which included an ambassador of that country. I doubt, he had anything with my orders, rather he tried to seize the opportunity that presented. He talked my mother into asking me to spy for that country, and I, well, I always felt a certain a guilt when it came to my mother, so I said that I will think about it, without really considering the consequences."

George fell silent for a moment, as if trying to find courage to continue.
'I never acted on those thoughts, because as I said, I am not a traitor and, well, I don't think I'd ever find it in myself to betray you, but a certain man got wind of a rumour...' George fell silent, knowing that in his desire to be as honest as he could in his position he said too much.

Wellesley slowly took a pace forward, a neutral expression on his face.

"And that man was Von Dorn?"