Into the Valley of Death

by A L Berridge

  She lifted her face, and he felt her arms slip round his neck. He pressed his cheek against hers, suddenly dumb in astonishment. The feel of her bare neck under his hand drove him to tenderness, and before he could stop himself he stooped to kiss it. Her face slid round, he was kissing her cheek, her throat, then there were her lips and he kissed them too.

  Her face jerked back at once, and he opened his eyes. For a moment they looked at each other, then gently, wordlessly, she took her hands from his neck and stepped back. As his breathing slowed he seemed to feel the beat of his own heart.

  He said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  She shook her head. ‘An accident. Silly. We were overwrought.’

  He still was. She left a tiny smear of blood on her cheek as she pushed back her hair, and the sight twisted his guts. ‘Oh God, I should never have let you come here.’

  ‘But you should,’ she said, and managed a little smile. ‘I’ve learned so much. Listen.’

  He took out his handkerchief and wiped her cheek while she told him. It was hard to take in at first, hard to think of anything but some Bulgarian bastard hitting her, but the importance of the dates struck home. He said, ‘Give me more detail, will you, Sally? I need the exact words.’

  She took the handkerchief. ‘Why?’

  ‘I have to tell the officers if we’re to stop the attack on the fleet. Only it has to come from me, Sally. No one else must know you were ever here.’

  She looked away. ‘Because of Jarvis.’

  ‘You know how he’d take it, what it would mean.’ He hesitated, studying her. The redness of her face was already fading, but the scratches on her hands could be dangerous. ‘Will he wonder about those?’

  ‘Not if I cut firewood when I get back,’ she said, wiping them absently on the handkerchief. ‘All right, I’ll tell you again.’

  Her calm was astonishing. He looked out of the window as she talked, memorizing the words, shutting his mind to the reality of the danger she’d been in. But she was still in it, and as she finished he saw a flicker of pink moving beyond the gate. The bloody picquet, they’d heard the shot and must be checking all the houses.

  He said urgently ‘Is there a back way out?’

  She was already heading for the door. ‘Yes, come on.’

  He glanced back at the window – and froze. Men were walking through the gate, three hussars, but the fourth was a short stout light dragoon he’d have known anywhere. Jarvis. Jarvis had known he wanted to go out, he’d known he’d break camp, he’d deliberately watched and followed. He’d lost him in the lanes, but the shot had drawn him, the bloody, bloody shot, and he was right outside with Sally still in the house.

  ‘Ryder?’ said Sally.

  The woman who’d risked rape and murder to help him, whose life and marriage he was about to destroy. He grabbed her arm and hurried her through the hall. A door, thank God, a back door, and beyond it a garden and a low wall. ‘Go now, go, bloody run. Hide if you see someone, then get out and run.’

  ‘But you …’

  ‘I’m all right, I’ll have to tell Marsh I was here anyway. Go now.’

  He pushed her out, shut the door behind her, and stood for a moment in a sweat of relief. She’d get away all right, and no one would stop a running woman. Jarvis wouldn’t check the back anyway, he’d be so excited at catching him in the heinous crime of camp-breaking he’d never think about anything else. Poor Jarvis. He was in for a hell of a disappointment when the truth came out.

  As he reached the hall the hussars were already walking through the broken door. Two had levelled carbines, one a drawn sword, but Jarvis had only a look of fierce satisfaction.

  ‘Ryder,’ he said, as if he loved the name. ‘Ryder.’

  It was a nice moment. ‘Yes, Sar’nt-major. I’ve had a fight with a spy, I’m afraid, you’ll find the body in here.’

  There was no missing the dead Bulgar, his brains had puddled on the floor. One of the hussars ripped the dust sheet from a piano and quickly flung it over him.

  Jarvis stared in confusion. ‘What in hell … ?’

  Ryder explained what he could. ‘This man caught me listening to a conversation about a forthcoming attack on our ships. I’m sorry I can’t say more now, Sar’nt-major, I need to report directly to an officer.’

  ‘Indeed you do,’ said Jarvis, recovering. ‘You’re going to one right now, and under full arrest. Camp-breaking and disobedience before we even start on what’s happened here.’

  Of course. ‘Very good, Sar’nt-major, but it’s only fair to tell you now I was following information about this spy.’

  ‘You were following a woman,’ said Jarvis. ‘These men heard one screaming, and the neighbours say it came from here.’

  His heart gave a little kick. ‘They were mistaken. There are lots of houses here.’

  ‘So there are,’ said Jarvis. ‘But only one with this outside the gate.’ He snapped his fingers, and one of the hussars held up that bloody Crim-Tartar apron.

  Nothing to do but bluff it out. ‘That’s nothing to do with me. There’s been no woman here.’

  Jarvis was looking over his shoulder. ‘Really?’ he said, and stepped past to pick up something from under the exposed piano. ‘Then what’s this?’

  The embroidered headscarf Sally had worn. She must have taken it off. He knew she had, he remembered the feel of her hair under his hands. The thought stung with shame as he looked at her husband, and he felt it burning in his own cheeks.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jarvis, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. ‘There’s guilt in your face, Ryder. You came here to meet a woman, you and this man fought over her, and all this talk of spies is so much gammon.’

  He could hear it himself, the bloody credibility of it, and so would Marsh. But they’d got to believe him, there was a Russian attack coming and too damn much at stake.

  ‘All right,’ he said desperately. ‘All right. There was a woman, but not how you think. She was helping me track this spy. She followed him here to let me know the house.’

  Someone laughed. One of the hussars was shaking his head and chuckling, and even the others wore broad grins. Jarvis said, ‘You’re embarrassing me, Trooper. A 13th Light Dragoon ought to think of a better lie than that.’

  He saw it in all their faces, the ridiculousness of it, a woman sneaking round after Russian spies. ‘It’s true. Whatever you think, it’s true, and Captain Marsh will believe it.’

  ‘With your record?’ said Jarvis kindly. He held out his hand. ‘Your gun, Ryder.’

  His own revolver. His father’s gun. He pulled it from his belt and passed it to Jarvis, hating the look of it in his hand.

  Jarvis smiled. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to, the time for all that was over. He jerked his thumb at the hussars, said just ‘Take him’, and swaggered out into the sunlight.

  14

  23 to 24 October 1854

  It cost Oliver three of Ronnie’s cigars before the sentry would admit him to the guard tent. It was still a crime, he’d never done such a thing in his life, but Mrs Jarvis had begged him and Harry Ryder was his friend.

  The emptiness struck him at once, a whole bell-tent with only one man in it. Ryder looked smaller than usual, stood at the far end with his arms folded defensively across his chest, but the look on his face made Oliver hesitate to go nearer. ‘Ryder?’

  ‘Hullo, Polly, come to say “I told you so”?’

  It sounded like him, the same casual mockery that was like a slap in the face, but his whole body looked tense, as if he was straining against something Oliver couldn’t see.

  ‘To say I’m sorry. I’ve spoken to Mrs Jarvis.’

  Ryder’s arms dropped. ‘Sally? Is she all right?’

  She’d been worried sick about Ryder. He said ‘I think so,’ and tried not to look away.

  ‘She’s not told anybody else?’

  ‘No, but she wants to. She thinks she can help.’

  Ryder swore. ‘Well, she mustn�
��t, Polly, you’ve got to tell her. They already know I was meeting a woman, they’ll only think it’s her. She’ll be sent home, Jarvis will disown her, she’ll be going back to destitution. You’ve got to tell her, promise me.’

  It was sounding more and more desperate. ‘Yes, yes, of course. But don’t they believe any of it? Surely Captain Marsh …’

  Ryder gave a short laugh. ‘Bog? Oh, he’s following it up, but he won’t find anything, will he?’

  Oliver made up his mind. ‘Then I’ll back you up, I’ll tell him what I know. I’m not in any trouble, they’re more likely to believe me.’

  Ryder’s face softened a little. ‘But what do you know, Poll? What have you actually seen? You didn’t see the officer do anything at the Alma, you didn’t see the man Mackenzie chased. You’re the only one of us who’s seen nothing at all.’

  It was terribly true. ‘But we’ve got to convince him somehow.’

  Ryder shrugged. ‘Oh, he’ll believe me in the end, he’s bound to when the attack happens. I’ve just got to make him listen before it’s too late.’

  ‘I know. The fellows are talking about a District Court-Martial.’

  Ryder sliced the air with his hand. ‘Damn the court-martial, what about the Russians? It’s tomorrow, don’t you see? Marsh needs to be alerting the officers in Balaklava, I’ve got to make him do it. You must warn the others too. This ship business is a distraction, there’ll be a major attack somewhere and we’ve got to be looking out for the traitor.’

  ‘All right,’ he said miserably. ‘But if we see him, what can we do?’

  The tent flap rustled and the sentry poked his head through the gap. ‘You – out. Ryder’s for Captain Marsh, so hook it before the escort sees you.’

  There wasn’t time to do more than whisper ‘Good luck!’ and bolt for the entrance.

  He was safely back at his tent when the guards marched past with Ryder, but the sight still made him squirm inside. He’d always hated it, the degradation of defaulters, but he’d never thought it could happen to someone he really knew. It was Ryder’s own fault and he really had warned him, but it still felt dirty, infectious, and wrong.

  He told himself it wouldn’t matter. Captain Marsh was reasonable, he’d see Ryder had acted with good intentions. He’d stop this attack coming, and now he knew about the traitor he might be able to catch him too. Everything could still be all right. Oliver had only to do what he always did, place his faith in God and his trust in the officers, and hope to goodness they wouldn’t let him down.

  Captain Marsh had a whole tent to himself, with a camp stool, a field table, a bucket with a bottle cooling in it, and a stack of wicker baskets stamped FORTNUMS. He still looked uncomfortable.

  He dismissed the guards, looked mistrustfully at the tent flap, then lowered his voice. ‘Dash it all, Ryder, I hope you’re satisfied. I’ve wasted half the day with a chap called Calvert in Intelligence, and there’s not a thing to corroborate your story.’

  Ryder remained at attention. ‘Nothing, sir?’

  Marsh made a huffing noise. ‘Oh, I’ll agree you ran into some doubtful characters. The owner of the house, for instance.’ He selected a piece of paper with perhaps two sentences on it and gazed at it admiringly. ‘Englishman, as it happens, a Mr Shepherd. Expatriate, of course, made himself a naturalized Russian. Might be all right, might not, but Calvert says he’s moved to Odessa, so at least he’s out of it now.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Except that he was definitely conspiring in an attack on our army.’

  ‘Only your word for that,’ said Marsh, laying down the paper like a bad cheque. ‘But this fellow Kostoff now. Thorough bad egg, our chaps have had an eye on him in Balaklava. No one’s going to be too worried about the death of a type like this.’

  A foreigner, in other words. ‘It was self-defence, sir. TSM Jarvis saw the knife.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, we know he went for the woman, the picquet heard her scream. No one’s blaming you for his death, Private, there’s really no need for all these lies.’

  Ryder felt a pulse start to beat in his forehead. ‘Lies?’

  Marsh leaned forward over the table, fingers laced together, direct and man-to-man. ‘Come on, Ryder. There’s no threat of hanging. You’ll have to be punished, of course, disorderly conduct, insubordination, camp-breaking, but hang it, why can’t you just own up and take your medicine like a man?’

  Ryder fixed his eyes on the canvas. ‘Because I’m not lying, sir. One of our own officers is working with the enemy.’

  Marsh sat up so abruptly half his papers fluttered to the floor. ‘Dash it, you’ve got to stop saying things like that. It’s sedition. You mustn’t repeat it to anyone, you understand?’

  ‘I haven’t, sir, not even to TSM Jarvis. I won’t say a word at the court-martial. We’ll never catch this man if he knows we’re looking.’

  Marsh stared, and Ryder thought a hint of doubt flickered behind his eyes. ‘Well then, dammit, you can jolly well stop saying it to me. Can’t you see you’re only making things worse for yourself?’

  ‘Yes, sir. So why do you think I’m still saying it?’

  Marsh looked back at his papers. After a moment he said, ‘But you’ve got to give me something to confirm it, don’t you see? This woman you say helped you. Give me her name.’

  He swallowed. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.’

  ‘Why not, if she was doing nothing wrong?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  ‘Your informer, then.’

  Bloomer had trusted him. ‘I don’t know his name, sir. I heard it through someone else.’

  ‘Gossip, you mean?’

  ‘If you want to call it that.’

  Marsh slammed his hand on the table. ‘Hang it, that’s what it is! Gossip and speculation! Opinions of troops on the orders of their officers! There’s not a single fact in the lot.’

  He kept his voice level. ‘Except what I heard, sir. About the coming attack.’

  Marsh snorted. ‘Vague nonsense. Did you even hear them mention Balaklava?’

  ‘I didn’t think they meant Portsmouth, sir.’

  Marsh’s brows lowered at once. ‘I’ll overlook that, Trooper, you’re in enough trouble already. We’ll leave the rest for court-martial.’

  It would be too late. ‘I’d like to speak to Colonel Doherty.’

  ‘The colonel’s still very sick, I’m not bothering him with nonsense like this.’

  He hesitated, but only for a second. ‘He’ll see me, sir. He knows me.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes,’ said Marsh petulantly. ‘He told me after the Bulganek. But he was very clear, Ryder, he said it was a slight acquaintance and merited no special treatment.’

  Of course he did, Ryder had asked him to. His own pride, his own bloody fault, and men could die for it. He said desperately, ‘Then Captain Oldham.’

  Marsh’s head shot up with outrage. ‘I’m perfectly capable of running my own troop!’

  Ryder breathed deeply. Last chance. ‘Then you’ll know, sir. How serious it would be if the attack happens and we’ve taken no action to prevent it. You’ll know what it would mean.’

  Marsh stared, then slowly slumped back down on his stool. He did know, he was bound to, he was a conscientious officer trying to deal with something beyond his comprehension. Ryder watched his fingers drumming on the table, then jumped when he saw them stop.

  ‘Very well. God knows why, but I’ll act on it. I’ll speak to Captain Topham in Balaklava, put the marines on alert. But this had better not be another false alarm.’

  Relief relaxed his shoulders, and he drew himself back into attention. ‘It won’t be, sir.’

  ‘Good,’ said Marsh, standing in dismissal. ‘Before dawn, you say? Then we’ll have the court-martial at nine. You’re either a liar or a hero, Ryder, and by then we’ll know either way.’

  Evening in the hospital was its usual frightful din, and Woodall kept his head under the blanket to shut it out. The doctors said he’d be f
it for duty in a day or two, but you could never tell with a head injury, he might be dying for all they knew.

  A hand patted the hump of his shoulder. ‘Are you Woodall?’

  He peeped out cautiously, but it was young Mrs Jarvis and she was always kind. ‘That’s me.’

  She crouched down by his pallet. ‘I’ve a message from Harry Ryder. We’re expecting an attack in the morning, and he wants us all to keep an eye out for our friend on the Staff.’

  What had possessed Ryder to go blabbing to a woman? Then he remembered the Alma, a figure in a blue dress walking away from a fire and Mackenzie saying she was trouble. He looked at her doubtfully, but Mrs Jarvis was clean and respectable, not like some of the drunken harridans they called nurses in this dump. She wouldn’t be party to anything wrong.

  He muttered, ‘What’s he telling me for? Not much I can do in here, is there?’

  ‘There might be if you come out tomorrow. There’ll be an attempt on the harbour at dawn, but something more serious will happen later and we don’t know where.’

  Her casualness nettled him. ‘But the harbour’s here! We could be burned in our beds.’

  She looked at him curiously, and he became horribly conscious of his unshaven face. ‘You’re quite safe, the marines are on guard. Ryder only wanted you to be warned, that’s all.’ There was a soft rustle of skirts as she rose and picked up the lamp.

  ‘Wait a bit,’ he said. ‘Is he sure? Is it definitely tomorrow?’

  The light cast dark circles under her eyes. ‘I hope so,’ she said quietly. ‘He broke camp to get the information and if it isn’t true they’ll flog him.’

  He stared at her retreating back in horror. Camp-breaking, flogging, what was he getting involved in? But an orderly passed her with a stack of mail and he quickly turned to face the other way, anxious not to look as if he was expecting something.

  ‘Letter for you, Tow-Row,’ said the orderly, chucking a grubby envelope down on his blanket. ‘Looks like someone loves you.’

  He snatched at the letter, holding it to his chest until the man had gone by. He was saying the same to everyone, ‘Letter for you, someone loves you,’ but Woodall knew that meant nothing. Bills, mostly, creditors found men even in the Army of the East, but his was personal and just for him.