Path of the Tiger

by J M Hemmings

  ‘You’re correct Will,’ Andrew said, ‘but the auld git willnae know tha’! Right now he doesnae even know you exist. Keep it tha’ way fir the time bein’, an’ then when you’ve attained your rank, you can invent whatever background you please fir yersel’, see? As long as you’ve got tha’ there officer’s commission, tha’s all he’ll see!’

  William remained unconvinced, however.

  ‘The point is, though, I’m no fighter,’ he countered, his tone pessimistic. ‘An’ what kind ay soldier cannae fight?! You all saw how tha’ blacksmith’s son hammered the lights outta me the year before last when he found out I’d been rollin’ in the hay wi’ his fiancée. I didnae even put one scratch on that lad’s face, but he certainly gave mine a good rearrangin’, he did.’

  All of them had a good chuckle at the recollection of that particular incident.

  ‘Aye, aye, the lad would ay killed you had Mikey an’ I no’ pulled him off ay you,’ Paul said, still chortling. ‘But Andy’s right. I cannae see any other way tha’ Aurora’s father will gi’ you his daughter’s hand. And being an officer isnae all about fightin’, Will. A man’s got tae be a good leader tae be an officer, an’ I cannae think ay a better leader among all the fellows I know than you. After all, we’ve all just declared our loyalty tae you!’

  ‘Aye, he’s right,’ said Michael, who had calmed down somewhat after slugging liberally on his fresh pitcher of ale. ‘We’d follow you anywhere, William. You’ve got that quality about yourself, an’ that’s exactly the kind ay quality an officer should have. And honestly Will, you’re the best horseman any of us have e’er seen, an’ tha’s no exaggeration. You’ll dae well in the cavalry, you will.’

  ‘I … I’m no’ sure what I should dae,’ William stammered, suddenly ensnared in the grip of a crippling indecisiveness. He had no desire to fight, especially not on a battlefield with cannons, muskets, swords and lances … but everything his friends had just said was beginning to push tendrils through his skin, shoots that crept through his veins and embedded their probing ends into his mind, feeding his brain with endless possibilities. His desire for Aurora was already fiery enough to motivate an elopement, and he was quite sure, with regards to her own fierce yearning for liberty and a life unconstrained by the bonds of societal norms, that she would go along with it. However, what Andrew had just suggested made a lot of sense as well. He knew that Aurora’s father was neither an understanding nor a forgiving man, and that he would indeed hunt down whoever made off with his daughter and punish them without mercy. An officer’s commission, especially one reached from the ranks, was a long shot. However, it seemed as if it may well be his only legitimate choice if he was to realise his dream of spending the rest of his days with his beloved. ‘I cannae believe I’m actually considering such a course ay action,’ he mumbled to himself under his breath.

  Michael knocked back his mug of ale and drained it dry, let out a resounding belch, and then slammed the empty vessel down on the table.

  ‘If Will’s gonnae join the Lancers, so am I!’ he roared.

  ‘Wait, I didnae say I was gonnae—’ William stammered, but Paul had already jumped to his feet and tossed his own tankard over his shoulder, after downing its contents.

  ‘Well I cannae let the two ay yous run off an’ leave me here, can I?’ he exclaimed. ‘We’ve lost our jobs, and I’ve always wanted tae see the great wide world, and what better way than paid for by Her Royal Highness Queen Victoria, God bless her? By Jove, I’m joining the Lancers wi’ you lads!’

  ‘Wait, I—’ William protested, but now even the reticent Andrew was joining in, also swept up in the tornado of fraternal enthusiasm.

  ‘I’ll no’ let you lads leave me on my own here,’ Andrew declared with quiet determination. ‘I’m joining the 17th Lancers wi’ the rest ay yous!’

  William swallowed the last mouthful of his pint and then set his pitcher down. A turbulent tempest of thoughts and emotions was raging within the chambers of his mind, swirling possibilities and dread and passion with the chaotic momentum of a charging horde of Bedouin cavalry, with bright robes of both hopes and fears billowing their flame-tongue streaks amidst a thunder of hooves, fighting through a sandstorm of anxiety and apprehension. He looked up from the rough table surface at which he had been staring, and fixed each of his friends with a piercing gaze, one by one.

  ‘If you lads are all so willing tae risk your lives fir mine, I cannae but dae the same fir all ay you. Brothers, we’re joining the 17th Lancers.’

  ***

  November 1853. The waterfall of the River King

  ‘I can’t believe that you’ll be gone in a few hours,’ Aurora whimpered. Tears were running freely down her cheeks, and grief clouded her features. Beneath the bundle of heavy cloaks in which she and William had cocooned themselves against the biting chill of the November night, she wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed him as hard as she could.

  He sighed and returned her embrace, struggling to hold back his own tears; salty drops that stung with bitter ferocity at the corners of his eyes.

  ‘It doesnae feel like I’m leaving,’ he whispered to her. ‘All ay this, it’s all happened so quickly.’

  She stared intently at him, her eyes red and glossy with wetness.

  ‘There’s still time to change your mind. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to…’

  He stroked her hair and stared into her eyes with a soulful gaze.

  ‘You know why I’m daein’ this, my love. You know why I have tae dae it. There’s no other way. Yer father—’

  ‘Is a pitiless tyrant,’ she interrupted, her teary eyes now aflame with a frothing acidity. ‘He doesn’t know the first thing about love, not a thing at all! If he could only understand what you and I have, the depth of what we feel for each other, he’d allow us to marry in a heartbeat.’

  ‘But he doesnae know about it, love. He doesnae even know ay my existence, thank the Father above … but one day he will. One day. An’ when he does, I’ll no longer be William the stable boy. I’ll be Lieutenant William Gisborne, an officer ay the Duke ay Cambridge’s Own 17th Lancers! When I’ve got tha’ officer’s commission, when I’m a lieutenant, I’ll come fir you. Then he cannae say no. He’ll see my worth, he’ll see that I’m no’ just a lowly orphaned farmhand. I’ll bring you back riches an’ treasures from the farthest corners ay the earth, I will. Why, I’ll bring you a piece ay the Sphinx in Egypt, an’, an’, a ruby the size ay my fist frae India, an’ a jade dragon from the Emperor ay China … an’ all ay these treasures, they’ll be fir nobody but you.’

  Aurora shook her head and caressed his stubble-rough cheek with gentle fingertips.

  ‘I don’t want any riches or treasures, William. I just want you.’

  Now William could no longer hold back a gush of tears. In them was distilled all of the sorrow, pain and fear that swirled deep within him, an unadulterated concentrate of the emotions that were churning through his heart and soul. These drops of stinging saltiness ran down his cheeks and merged with the tears that had already dampened his beloved’s face, her cheek pressed against his.

  ‘And you’re all I’ll ever want, all I’ll ever need,’ he whispered hoarsely.

  ‘I’m scared William, I’m so scared,’ she sobbed as she held him. ‘What if … what if you’re sent into battle? What if…’

  William slipped his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back so that he could press his lips against hers, silencing her. Her mouth was hot, willing and eager, despite her sorrow, and they kissed for a long, intense moment, and the heat of their rapture smouldered and crackled, mirroring the last of the red-glowing coals that remained of the small bonfire in front of them. Eventually they disengaged, and William spoke, brushing Aurora’s cheek with tender touches as he did.

  ‘There’s nowt tae worry about, my beauty. Britain isnae at war wi’ nobody, an’ I cannae see war acoming neither, so I’ll no’ be sent intae no battles. Even if I am though
, why, the spirit ay the River King down there in his cave, he’ll protect me! And surely the Father above could no’ be so heartless as tae part the two ay us so cruelly, could he? We’re meant tae be together, sweet Aurora. I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on you in tha’ forest.’

  ‘I knew it too, William. I don’t know how I knew it, but I did.’

  ‘I’ve ne’er known true love in my life before. Not until I met you. An’ now I understand why it’s what all the greatest poets an’ bards write an’ sing about.’

  ‘And I’ve never experienced such a depth of feeling, such a fiery, soul-stirring intensity either, William. Not in the most awe-inspiring art galleries of Europe, not in the playhouses with their world-famous actors, not from the orchestras and their conductors who play the greatest works of our age and the ages that came before it … none of these can compare to the beauty I have found in your heart and soul.’

  William felt as if his heart would burst right there within his chest as Aurora spoke these words to him, crystallising her sentiments in a gaze that sliced through the tear-glossed grey of his eyes and travelled deep into the core of his being.

  ‘I’d ne’er imagined anyone could ha’ said such things about me,’ he murmured in a voice that was cracking and hoarse. ‘And tae see them said wi’ such conviction, by the most angelic being I’ve e’er laid my eyes on … it’s almost tae much fir my heart tae take. I’ve said it before, an’ I’ll say it again, Aurora: my heart belongs tae you an’ you alone, an’ until my dying day an’ e’er after, an’ it’ll belong tae no other.’

  Again they embraced and kissed with a desperate, ravenous passion, and above them a spread of stars glittered against the dark cloak of the night sky, sprayed across it with the post-mortem violence of a shattered chandelier. When their lips finally parted, William looked up and smiled with wonder-tempered joy.

  ‘My empress,’ he said, tilting her chin to raise her eyes to the sky. ‘Look.’

  The Northern Lights were flaring up on the horizon; neon curtains of green, violet, purple and blue, shimmering and fluttering their ethereal haze against some otherworldly gale that was howling its silent wrath across the dome of the sky.

  ‘It’s magnificent,’ Aurora murmured, in awe of the glorious spectacle.

  ‘They’re dancers, immortal beings, I’ve heard the auld folk say,’ William said, his eyes tracing the passage of the flickering dragon tongues of coloured light. ‘It’s a sign, my love. A sign that this is meant tae be. A portent tha’ tells ay the great joy tha’ lies ahead ay us.’

  ‘I need you to come back to me, William,’ Aurora whispered. ‘Promise me you’ll come back to me as soon as you can. I cannot possibly live my life without you.’

  ‘That’s a promise I’ll no’ fail tae keep, my lady. My heart an’ soul are yours, forever. No battlefield nor general will keep me from coming back tae you.’

  Aurora smiled and retrieved a small item from a pocket in her cloak.

  ‘Take this. Take this and think of me whenever you look upon it.’

  As she said this, she pressed an oval locket of silver into William’s hands.

  ‘What’s this, m’lady?’

  ‘Open it.’

  William opened the locket and gasped, for inside it was an exquisite portrait of Aurora’s face.

  ‘Aurora, my love, it’s … it’s you. Looking just as you are in the flesh.’

  ‘Yes William, just as I am, so that you can remember me like this forever. I painted it myself, looking in a mirror.’

  William could not stop staring at the portrait.

  ‘Your beauty has been captured in a moment of time, frozen in motion like a Highland stream in winter, m’lady. It’s absolutely breathtaking, my love. I’ll keep it next tae my heart, always.’

  ‘Keep it close and keep it safe, my knight.’

  William looked away, his shoulders slumping.

  ‘I’m no knight, my sweet dove. Would that I was, though. Then we could be married on the morrow, instead ay … instead ay what I’ve got tae dae.’

  Aurora started crying, and she threw her arms around William as her body was racked with sobs of unadulterated sadness.

  ‘Wait Aurora, wait,’ William pleaded. ‘I’ve got something fir you as well. It’s no’ master portrait like yours, but it is something that’s been a treasure tae me, something tha’ I’ve had fir years, tha’ I believe has thus far brought me luck.’

  William presented Aurora with a thumb-sized, simply wrought bronze cross, knotted in the ancient Celtic style. At the centre was a small cavity, which had once held a jewel of some sort. The little ornament had been lovingly polished over the years, and it gleamed attractively in the starlight.

  ‘I found this while digging in a stream when I was a small boy, shortly after I very first arrived at Sir MacTaggart’s estate from London. I kept it e’er since, an’ didnae tell a soul about it. I always thought it’d bring me luck, an’ I was carrying it in my pocket the day I first met you … so it already has. It brought me the best luck in the world.’

  ‘William … it’s … it’s the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me. From now on until the day I draw my last breath, I will wear this around my neck. I’ll never take it off.’

  ‘I’ll bring you back a ruby, or emerald, or sapphire, my love. Something beautiful tae put in it, there in tha’ wee spot where some jewel used tae be.’

  ‘I don’t need any of those, William. Just bring me you.’

  ‘Aye, I will, m’lass,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking. ‘You can count on tha’.’ He reached over to her, and with his right hand he brushed her cheek with soft, caressing fingertips. He cupped his left hand under her chin and placed feather-light kisses all over her face, and then brushed a lock of hair away from her shoulder so that he could nuzzle her neck and throat with tender lips. Aurora stared at the sky for a few exquisite, drawn-out moments while William showered her with affection before she spoke again.

  ‘The dawn is approaching, William. I have to get back so that our accomplice butler, bless his soul, can sneak me back into the house before my father and the other servants awaken. And you, you have to…’

  ‘Head off with m’ lads tae report tae the sergeant fir our first day ay training,’ he said in a strained voice, laden with bitter sorrow.

  Tears streamed down Aurora’s face as William spoke these words, and a surge of emotion gripped him in throttling coils at the sight of her tear-streaked grief. He leaned in and brushed away the tears with trembling fingers, closing her eyes as he placed gentle kisses on her eyelids.

  ‘Lie with me one last time,’ she whispered as she held him tightly. ‘One last time, so that we both will remember.’

  ‘Aye m’lass,’ he replied, almost choking on the words as tears began to run with uncontrollable urgency down his own cheeks. ‘One last time.’

  And so, with an almost violent desperation and heady urgency they made love, as they had many times that night, sweating, shuddering, gasping, crying out and writhing with ferocious passion beneath the pile of heavy cloaks, under the watch of the ice-shard stars scattered across the cold November dark. Beneath this dome of eternal beauty, the two lovers danced their mortal dance of lust and heat, while above the Northern Lights whirled their ethereal waltz across the vastness of the heavens … and overseeing all of this, the wheels of fate creaked and turned in mute malevolence.

  24

  WILLIAM

  December 1853. Brighton Cavalry Barracks, England

  ‘Keep your guard up Private Gisborne, up for God’s sake!’ Sergeant Fray roared in his heavy Liverpudlian accent. ‘Farmer McDougal could drive his bloody hay cart wi’ a team o’ horses through the gaps you leave open! Now raise your bleedin’ sword and try that again!’

  William grimaced, shrinking in the face of the sergeant’s beratement. His right arm burned with a crushing agony from the past hour of sword drills, which he just couldn’t seem to get right, and every
movement he made blasted sharp shots of pain through his hips and legs, which were aching acutely from the footwork exercises they had been doing.

  ‘You’d think we were an infantry regiment, wi’ all this damned footwork an’ fencing the sergeant is making us dae,’ he muttered to Michael, who was performing the drills to his left.

  Michael flashed him a self-satisfied grin.

  ‘I dunnae mind, Will. Why, I feel like I’m getting good at this!’

  It was true; Michael had taken to soldiering like a duck to water. He was already one of the top swordsmen in their squadron, and able to best soldiers who had years of experience on him. Not only was he handy with a sword, he had also turned out to be a crack shot with a rifle.

  William, on the other hand, had proven to be quite hopeless when it came to the art of fighting; this included swordsmanship, unarmed combat, and marksmanship. The only thing he was good at, it seemed, was riding. He had started to regret his decision to join the Lancers within the first few days of beginning training, whereas Michael had relished in their new life from the outset. Paul and Andrew had proved to be efficient, if unenthusiastic, about their training. They missed the relative freedom they had had on Sir MacTaggart’s estate, but they sometimes seemed to enjoy the challenges that came with learning the arts of war. Paul, always the more jovial and extroverted of the pair, got on well with both the new recruits and the old hands of the regiment, and he often drank and joked with the men, and led them in bawdy songs with his spectacular baritone voice. Andrew, however, preferred in his free time to sit in a quiet corner of the barracks and sketch out drawing after drawing in his notebook, or pluck and strum on the strings of his guitar, composing songs.

  William, however, spent most of his free time moping and sulking. He missed, with an agonising ache that no balm or elixir could soothe, everything about Sir MacTaggart’s estate – the freedom, the open spaces, working with horses all day, and, most of all, being able to rendezvous with his lover on the weekends. His mind was always on her, regardless of whatever else it was that he happened to be doing. It was probably why he was such a dunce when it came to training and learning the arts of combat, he thought to himself. That did not matter though; he cared not for musket, lance or sword; he only wanted to ride horses, write poetry and be with his beloved. Now, however, after signing his life and freedom away to the Queen, he did not know now when he would be able to see Aurora again, and his heart pined for her presence, her voice, her scent, her taste, her—