They were due to meet the Colonel at the castle at ten o’clock the following morning. It wasn’t open to the public on Tuesdays, but he was to give them a private tour before they went into the Royal Welsh Fusiliers Regimental Museum, which was housed there. They were joined by a former serviceman who worked as a curator at the collection. The two men received them at the main gate. Hazel and Dawn both wore the court shoes they’d brought with them for the evenings, instead of their usual walking wear.

The museum was spread over two floors of the Queen’s Tower, with round rooms. ‘We thought you’d like to see our Crimean collection, before we have some coffee,’ said the Colonel.

He led them past a display cabinet in which stood a large taxidermied goat, in full regalia. Dawn looked taken aback. ‘Our Regimental mascot,’ the Colonel explained.

In the section devoted to the Crimea, soldiers’ antique red coats were on display, along with swords and medals, old pamphlets and occasional portraits. Information boards described battles and some notable actions. The Colonel led them to a large square of fabric, mounted behind glass on the wall. It was very damaged, hardly there in places. There were big patches where no fabric remained. Single embroidered words were the best-preserved parts of it. Hazel recognized some of them: Alma, Sevastopol, Inkerman.

‘The Colours,’ said the Colonel.

‘Is that the actual flag that was in the Crimean war?’ asked Hazel.

‘It is. It was the one which was carried into the Battle of Alma, where William Gale so distinguished himself.’

‘So it’s really been in the wars. To coin a phrase,’ said Dawn.

‘Very much so. Carrying the Colours into battle was an act of tremendous courage, because of course it was so conspicuous that it drew enemy fire. At Alma, the Ensign to the Colour was killed, and so his commanding officer took over. He, too, lost his life. A Sergeant Henry Smith carried it on and survived. This one was torn through by sixteen balls.’

The four of them stood in silence, looking at the remnants of cloth.

‘There’s rather a nice story attached to it,’ the Colonel went on. ‘Some years later, in the 1870s, the Russian Tsar visited England and came to review the troops at Aldershot. When he passed this he made a comment about its tattered state and someone present told him that it was dilapidated because it had been pierced by so many Russian musket balls. So he turned his horse around and went back to salute it. Have you been to the Crimea?’ he asked Dawn and Hazel.

They said they had not.

‘It’s a fascinating place. Unfortunately our friend Mr Putin has made it rather difficult to visit nowadays. The Foreign Office has advised against travel there, since the Russians went in in 2014.’