Dauntless the slughorn to my lips I set, and blew “Child Roland to the dark tower came.” — Robert Browning
To W. W. D. H.
“God forbid that I should do this thing. If our time be come, let us die manfully for our brethren And let us not stain our honour.” I Maccabees, ix, 10.
PART I
CHAPTER I
Winn Staines respected God, the royal family, and his regiment; but even his respect for these three things was in many ways academic: he respected nothing else.
His father, Admiral Sir Peter Staines, had never respected anything; he went to church, however, because his wife didn’t. They were that kind of family.
Lady Staines had had twelve children. Seven of them died as promptly as their constitutions allowed; the five survivors, shouted at, quarreled over, and soundly thrashed, tore themselves through a violent childhood into a rackety youth. They were never vicious, for they never reflected over or considered anything that they did.
Winn got drunk occasionally, assaulted policemen frequently, and could carry a small pony under each arm. Charles and James, who were in the navy, followed in the footsteps of Sir Peter; that is to say, they explored all possible accidents on sea or ashore, and sought for a fight as if it were a mislaid crown jewel.