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Being asked how and where she met Thom Reed, she said, "As she was gangand betwixt her own house and the yard of Monkcastell, dryvand her ky to the pasture, and makand heavy sair dule with herself, gretand very fast for her cow that was dead, her husband and child that wer lyand sick in the land ill, and she new risen out of gissane, the aforesaid Thom met her by the way, healsit her, and said, 'Gude day, Bessie, and she said, 'God speed you, guidman. 'Sancta Marie, said he, 'Bessie, why makes thow sa great dule and sair greting for ony wardlie thing? She answered 'Alas! have I not great cause to make great dule, for our gear is trakit, and my husband is on the point of deid, and one babie of my own will not live, and myself at ane weak point; have I not gude cause then to have ane sair hart? But Thom said, 'Bessie, thou hast crabit God, and askit some thing you suld not have done; and tharefore I counsell thee to mend to Him, for I tell thee thy barne sall die and the seik cow, or you come hame; and thy twa sheep shall die too; but thy husband shall mend, and shall be as hale and fair as ever he was. And then I was something blyther, for he tauld me that my guidman would mend.
Makand Singh came hastily forward, a splendid figure of a man, six foot two or thereabout, and appearing even taller by reason of his turban. He spoke excellent English. "It is very muddy for a lady to alight," he said, and instructed one of the men to bring bags of sacking, which were laid in the road. "You are seeing us under very unfavourable conditions," he said as he helped me to alight.
Makand Singh presented him and he joined the circle that waited for coffee. The newcomer presented an enigma a Frenchman in a British uniform quartered with the Indian troops! It developed that he was a pupil from the Sorbonne, in Paris, and was an interpreter.
That was the final picture I had of the village of Ham and the Second Lahore Lancers the turbaned Indians with their dripping horses, the grave bow of Makand Singh as he closed the door of the car, and behind him a Scotch corporal in kilt and cap, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. We went on.
Only muddy sugarbeet fields on each side of the narrow road, a few winter trees, and the beat of the rain on the windows. At last, with an extra lurch, the car drew up in the village of Ham. At a gate in a brick wall a Scotch soldier in kilts, carrying a rifle, came forward. Our errand was explained and he went off to find Makand Singh, a major in the Lahore Lancers and in charge of the post.
"But there is a fire if you are cold." I was cold. So Makand Singh led the way to his living quarters. To go to them it was necessary to pass through a long shed, which was now a stable for perhaps a dozen horses. At a word of command the Indian grooms threw themselves against the horses' heads and pushed them back.
I looked back, Makand Singh was making his careful way through the mud; the horses were being led to a stable. The Cross stood alone. The next day I was taken along the English front, between the first and the second line of trenches, from Béthune, the southern extremity of the line, the English right flank, to the northern end of the line just below Ypres.
"Perhaps," said Makand Singh, "you will have coffee?" I was glad to accept, and the young officer, who had followed, accepted also. We sat down while the kettle was placed on the stove and the fire replenished. I glanced at the Indian major's tall figure. Even sitting, he was majestic. When he took the cape off he was discovered clothed in the khaki uniform of his rank in the British Army.
By stepping over the ground pegs to which they were tethered I got through the shed somehow and into a small yard. Makand Singh turned to the right, and, throwing open the low door of a peasant's house, stood aside to allow me to enter. "It is not very comfortable," he explained, "but it is the best we have." He was so tall that he was obliged to stoop as he entered the doorway.
The houses were replicas of the one where Makand Singh had his quarters. Although it was still raining, a dozen Indian Lancers were exercising their horses. They dismounted and stood back to let us pass. Behind them, as they stood, was the great Cross.
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