Path of the Tiger

by J M Hemmings

  ‘Pish! It’s blind luck an’ nowt else,’ Paul muttered as he pulled his boots off with a sigh and flopped down onto his bunk. ‘God casts his die an’ one ay them musket balls either misses you or takes you. D’you really think the Russian infantryman is gonnae say, “oh look at tha’ lad, he’s a brave one, I’ll no’ shoot tha’ one from his mount, no, I’ll take a shot at tha’ there cowardly lookin’ chap instead!”, d’you honestly think he’ll say that tae himself? Ay course he bloody well won’t, he’ll pick out whatever British trooper is in firin’ range, and bloody fire on tha’ one! It’s luck, boyo, nowt else. Blind bloody luck.’

  Michael shook his head and folded his arms with an aggressive huff.

  ‘That’s the voice ay selfish cowardice speakin’,’ he spat. ‘An’ it makes me ashamed tae call you “friend”, Paul. Bah! What about you, Will? I know you’re no’ the best swordsman ay this regiment, but dunnae tell me you share in this bastard’s yellow-bellied cowardice? Christ almighty, you joined the 17th wi’ the hope ay becoming an officer, boyo! An officer’s nowt wi’out raw, unshakeable courage!’

  Andrew, who had been playing guitar all the while, stopped strumming and answered before William could.

  ‘Of course our Will’s got courage,’ he said in his soft-spoken tone. ‘He’s as brave as a lion, he is, and quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re even askin’, Mikey. We all know tha’ he’s the bravest ay the lot, don’t we?’

  Andrew looked back at William and gave him a wink and a warm smile, and then resumed plucking on the guitar strings.

  William grinned nervously as he spoke.

  ‘Aye! Let me have at those Russians!’ he said, a little too boisterously. ‘I’ll charge right out ahead ay the squadron an’ smash through their ranks all on me lonesome, I will!’

  ‘That’s the bloody spirit!’ Michael roared. ‘Now where’s Watty? I know he’s smuggled some rum intae the tent, and I’ve got a bleedin’ thirst that needs a quenchin’!’

  ‘Chrikey, tha’ lout’s your new best mate then, is he?’ Paul grumbled.

  ‘Sod off, Pauly! Watty’s a bloody sound lad!’

  Paul sighed, and an expression of icy disdain cooled his features.

  ‘So tha’s how you talk now, eh Mikey? Well, I’m no’ surprised. You’ve been sounding more an’ more like tha’ “sound lad” ay yours wi’ every passing day. And in case you missed it, tha’s not a compliment, boyo.’

  Michael turned around to face Paul, his jaw set with a bristling anger and his knuckles glowing with the heat of freshly fired musket balls on the ends of his fists. Paul sat up in his bunk and glared at Michael.

  ‘What’s this now, Mikey? You’re gonnae gi’ us a clobberin’, are you?’

  ‘Mikey, Paul, come on then lads, come on now,’ William said in a deliberately calm and conciliatory tone, springing up from his cot and hurrying over to the pair of them to break up the fight before it erupted. His efforts were too late, however – Michael’s blood was already boiling, and Paul’s temper was now riled up beyond any hope of reprieve.

  ‘Stay out ay this!’ Michael growled, shoving William back with excessive force.

  William flew back, tripped over a footstool and crashed to the ground in a heap. In response, Paul lunged forward, grabbing Michael’s collar with his left hand, and he cocked his right fist to strike a blow.

  ‘Dunnae lay your damned hands on Will, Mikey! Dunnae touch him again! I’ve had about enough ay your soddin’ rubbish!’

  ‘Get yer hands off ay me right now Pauly,’ Michael snarled, his eyes aflame with aggression, ‘or I’ll break your bleedin’ nose!’

  ‘What on earth is the meaning of this?!’

  A new voice slashed through the tension of the moment, filling the space of the tent with the sharpness of its accusation.

  William and Andrew immediately scrambled to their feet and saluted, and then stood at attention.

  ‘Captain Liversage, sir!’ Andrew and William barked in unison.

  Captain Liversage stepped into the tent and glared at Michael and Paul, his green eyes burning in their sockets with the intensity of two lumps of molten metal pulled fresh from a forge.

  ‘Unhand one another at once!’ he snapped.

  Michael and Paul lowered their hands meekly and looked at the ground, not daring to speak.

  ‘Do you not stand to attention in the presence of an officer?!’

  Both immediately saluted and stood at attention. Paul swallowed slowly; anxiety was writ plain across his face. Michael’s hard-featured face sported a look of defiance, but it was tempered with a heavy dose of guilt and embarrassment.

  ‘I ought to have the pair of you flogged!’ Captain Liversage spat, his voice thick with contempt and disdain. ‘The enemy is across the hills there, and yet you two idiots are going at each other here in our camp! You’re a disgrace to the regiment! Are you two intoxicated? Are you?! Tell me at once! And if either of you speaks a lie, by God I’ll have you both lashed to a wagon wheel and flogged senseless!’

  ‘No sir,’ Michael and Paul mumbled.

  ‘Come over here and let me smell your breath. Do it!’

  Both of them hurried over to Captain Liversage and opened their mouths. He sniffed at each man’s mouth and then stepped back from them.

  ‘Good, you half-wits are at least sober. No hint of rum nor gin nor beer there.’

  He locked a withering stare into each man’s eyes in turn, and the power of his wrath was paralysing in its intensity. Even Michael, with his imposing stature, broad shoulders and powerful build, seemed to wilt before the older man’s authority. Liversage let the weight of his anger sink in for a few uncomfortably drawn-out seconds, before he eventually let up and stepped back to speak in a more subdued tone of voice.

  ‘I’ll let you fools off this time, but by God if I catch any other troopers laying hands on one other, you’ll be flogged to within an inch of your lives. Save your damned strength for the Russians!’

  ‘Yes sir!’ both men shouted, a little too loudly to effectively mask their discomfort.

  ‘Stand down and go on about your business, whatever it may be,’ Liversage muttered, glowering at the two of them until they slunk away with their tails between their legs.

  The captain then walked over to William as Michael and Paul climbed sheepishly into their cots, both stinging from the vehemence of the chastisement they had just received.

  ‘Private Gisborne, do you remember what we talked about on the day of the battle of the Alma?’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. Well, my poor batman, Lieutenant Bowker, has this very morning left this world as a result of cholera. I’ll be needing a new aide immediately, and I do believe you’d do quite nicely. Pack your things and report to my tent in an hour. From now on you’ll be staying by my side for the duration of this war.’

  William was at once too taken aback to be able to respond with anything other than a surprised ‘yes sir’.

  ‘Good man, good man,’ Captain Liversage said. ‘At ease, troopers. I’ll be on my way now. Good day to you!’

  ‘Good day tae you too, sir!’ they all shouted in unison.

  As soon as Captain Liversage strolled out of the tent, William and his friends sat down, the air abruptly crisp with a sense of buzzing excitement.

  ‘What’s this now, Will?’ Andrew asked, his voice chirpy with surprise and excitement. ‘You’re off tae become Captain Liversage’s batman?’

  ‘Aye,’ replied William. ‘I dunnae why he picked me, but while we were waiting tae charge at the Alma, he just came over an’ told me he’d like me tae be his batman, on account ay my horsemanship, he said.’

  ‘Well that’s no surprise,’ Paul said. ‘You’re the best rider in the regiment, I’ll wager.’

  ‘You certainly are, lad,’ added Michael, who had calmed down rather quickly after Captain Liversage had threatened him with a flogging.

  ‘I hope I can live up tae whatever expectation’s he’s go
t ay me,’ William said, with more than a smidgen of doubt clouding his words.

  ‘You will, boyo,’ Andrew said, placing a reassuring hand on William’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. ‘I’ve no doubt in my mind ay that. Now get going wi’ yer packing! You wouldnae want tae make a bad impression on the captain by arriving late now, would you?’

  ***

  Half an hour later William had packed his things and was walking across the camp with his possessions when a gruff, abrasive voice barked out his name from amidst the packed mass of soldiers, horses and tents.

  ‘Gisborne! What in all seven hells are you doing?!’

  William turned around and saw Sergeant Fray transfixing him with a look of flagrant disbelief, flavoured liberally with bristling rage.

  ‘Answer me, blast you!’ Fray yelled. ‘Where are you taking your things?! Are you trying to desert?! You are, aren’t you?! Thinking you could bloody run off in the middle of the day, just like that?! You’ll be swinging from the gallows before the sun sets, you cowardly—’

  ‘Sergeant Fray!’

  Captain Liversage trotted over on his horse and fired a scathing stare at the sergeant from atop his mount. Fray froze in his tracks, regarding Liversage with an expression of confusion contorting his ruddy, rough-hewn features.

  ‘Why in God’s name are you harassing my new batman, Sergeant?’ Liversage demanded.

  A crash of biting embarrassment, laced heavily with disbelief, slugged Sergeant Fray square in the face.

  ‘Your new … I, er, he’s, sir, he was…’

  ‘He’s moving his things to my tent, which I ordered him to do, Sergeant. You wouldn’t be interfering with my orders now, would you?’

  ‘N-, no sir.’

  Sergeant Fray stood stiff and still, and he spoke through tightly clenched teeth, staring blankly into the distance and refusing to make eye contact with either William or Captain Liversage. Liversage trotted over to Fray and walked his horse in a slow and deliberate circle around the sergeant as he spoke to him in a soft yet unmistakably threatening tone.

  ‘Good. That is good indeed, Sergeant. You see, I certainly wouldn’t want to have to discipline you in front of all the men for interfering with my orders. No, no, that would not do. It would certainly not do to humiliate you before your entire squadron, not at all. Such an act would grievously pain me, yes, it would, but sometimes such things are necessary for the greater good. Will you be requiring a public disciplining, Sergeant Fray? Will you man?! I’m asking you! Answer me, damn you!’

  ‘No sir!’ Fray shouted hoarsely, choking on the impotence of his barely contained fury and frustration.

  ‘I didn’t quite hear you, Sergeant, would you kindly repeat yourself?’

  ‘I said, I’ll not be interfering wiff your orders, sir.’

  Sergeant Fray’s knuckles were ice-white, the bones threatening to erupt through the liver-spotted skin of his rough hands. He was trembling with anger, and his utter inability to do anything about his humiliation only served to further fan the flames of his wrath.

  ‘And you will not be interfering with the duties of my batman, nor will you be harassing him in future, will you?’

  Captain Liversage’s tone was glacial as he asked this question, his eyes cold as a Highland winter morn.

  ‘I’ll not be interfering wiff’ Private Gisborne’s duties, nor will I be ‘arassing the lad, sir.’

  It seemed as if Fray was on the verge of choking on the words that were dribbling out of his mouth.

  Icicles, meanwhile, glistened in Captain Liversage’s smile.

  ‘You can be on your way now, Sergeant,’ he said coolly. ‘Remember this little conversation though, my good man. Remember it well.’

  ‘I will sir,’ Fray muttered, his voice so faint that it was almost inaudible.

  ‘Good. Off you go, old boy!’

  Fray saluted and marched off in a steaming huff, and Captain Liversage trotted his horse over to William.

  ‘Such a disagreeable chap, Sergeant Fray is,’ Liversage remarked. ‘I know he’s wont to give you in particular a hard time, is he not? I’ve seen him single you out, and I’ve noticed him doing so on many occasions.’

  ‘He doesnae care much for me, sir.’

  ‘Well, he’s a blustery fool, is what he is,’ Liversage scoffed. ‘Tough as old nails, yes, which is what a good sergeant should be, but I do think that he could be a bit more of an agreeable chap. I heard him berating you just the other day on the topic of writing poetry. How absurd! The fool wouldn’t know art if it came galloping over him with steel-shod hooves. There’s nothing in the military code to say a common soldier cannot be a lover of art, music and literature. Indeed, I dare say I wish more of our lads were lovers of such things. You’ll have to let me read some of your compositions at some stage, Private Gisborne. I am a great lover of poetry, literature and plays myself, and I encourage you to keep writing, my boy. Especially if you’ve got talent. Forget whatever nonsense that philistine Fray has been feeding you. And worry not, my boy, if he gives you any more trouble, I’ll sort him out. From now on, as my batman you report directly to me, and you take orders only from me, with the only exception being when an order comes directly from one of my superiors. Do you understand?’

  William, glowing with vicarious glee after having seen his tormentor embarrassed, nodded.

  ‘Aye sir, thank you sir. I’ll dae me’ best tae serve you in whatever tasks you require ay me, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. Well, here are my first orders to you: after you’ve put your things in my tent, my horse, Benjamin – this lovely mount upon whom I am seated – will need to be brushed down and reshod. I consulted your records and saw that you were a stable hand before you joined the 17th, so am I correct in assuming that these tasks will present you with no significant difficulties?’

  ‘Aye Captain, takin’ care ay your horse willnae present me wi’ any trouble, sir!’

  ‘Good. Go and sort yourself out, and then take care of my dear Benjamin. You can brush down and reshoe your own mount while you’re at it.’

  ‘River King, sir. Tha’s his name, sir.’

  Captain Liversage smiled.

  ‘River King, is it? What an unusual moniker. It suits him though, I dare say. He was quite the unruly beast when the regiment first acquired him, but you seem to have done an excellent job in calming his fiery temperament.’

  ‘He was just … misunderstood, sir,’ William said.

  ‘Aren’t we all, lad, aren’t we all!’

  Captain Liversage laughed heartily at his own observation, and at once William observed a sprightly and almost childlike glee sparkling in the elderly officer’s eyes. His craggy countenance took on a far more kindly and amiable air than it had a few moments before when he had been chastising Sergeant Fray.

  ‘Well come on Gisborne, off with you then.’

  William saluted.

  ‘As you command, sir! It’ll be the best brushing an’ shoeing Benjamin’s e’er had sir, I personally guarantee it!’

  ***

  ‘Benjamin seems to like you, Private Gisborne,’ Captain Liversage remarked as he walked up to William, who had just finished with Benjamin.

  ‘He’s a fine beast, sir.’

  ‘And somewhat temperamental, I must add. He wasn’t too fond of my last batman, poor Lieutenant Bowker, God rest his soul. He gave Bowker a dreadful bite on the hand once.’

  ‘I’ve ne’er met an animal I dunnae like, sir,’ William declared. ‘Nor one that doesnae like me.’

  ‘You have a way with animals then, Gisborne?’

  ‘I always ha’ sir, since I was a wee bairn. In the cellar I lived in when I was a flue faker, I tamed some ay the mice tha’ lived there an’ kept ‘em as pets.’

  ‘You were a chimney sweep as a child?’

  ‘I was, sir. M’self an’ me friends who joined the 17th wi’ me: Privates Paul an’ Andrew Moore, an’ Private Michael Bishop, sir.’

  Captain Liversage seemed some
what taken aback at this.

  ‘Really! It is quite astounding that you lot made it to adulthood. I have heard that the lifespan of most chimney sweeps does not extend beyond their teens.’

  William nodded and sighed wistfully.

  ‘Aye sir, that’s the sad truth ay the matter. Had me friends an’ I no’ been rescued by a kindly lady, the wife ay a magistrate, we’d surely all be dead by now, if no’ from an accident in a flue, then by the sooty cancer tha’ gets in your lungs.’

  ‘A sad end that would have been,’ Captain Liversage mused, idly fingering the hilt of his sabre. ‘Tell me lad, what made you join up here? Why have you chosen the life of a cavalryman in Her Majesty’s service?’

  William wasn’t sure why, but an instinctive feeling quietly assured him that he could trust Captain Liversage. He breathed in deeply to compose himself, and then spoke.

  ‘Well sir, tae be perfectly honest, I joined up because ay a girl.’

  A warm smile brightened Liversage’s visage, and he folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘Well, you truly are a poet in both word and deed then, Private Gisborne,’ he remarked. ‘You wanted to impress this girl by joining the cavalry?’

  ‘Well, yes sir, but wi’ a specific goal in mind. I want tae marry her, see. But the problem is, sir, she’s nobility, an’ I’m nowt but a lowly stable hand.’

  Captain Liversage sighed, and there was genuine sympathy in his eyes as he stared at William. It seemed that at that moment some sort of painful memory had reared its head from the still loch that was the captain’s mind. A congealed anguish inched through his veins, and he quickly looked away from William, and clenched his jaw and balled his hands into tight fists to stem the sudden flood of emotion.

  ‘Love,’ he murmured quietly, his gaze distant. ‘Love is both the greatest and most terrible force known to mankind.’

  A stab of pain twist its iron sharpness through William’s core, and he exhaled slowly.

  ‘That it is, sir. That it is.’

  The Captain did not respond for a few drawn-out, deeply introspective moments, and he lost himself in a whirl of memories, leaving the present for at least thirty or forty seconds before he blinked, coughed slightly and looked back into William’s eyes.