The Valley of Death

by Garry Douglas Kilworth

  Lieutenant Lehmann had his own pistol, ready to shoot either of the combatants should they dishonour themselves by breaking the code of practice. If a man turned and fired before the requisite ten paces, then that man would fall foul of the referee’s weapon. The French lieutenant, a Zouave in his embroidered blue coatee and red pantaloons, had been the referee of many duels and knew his business.

  ‘Are you ready, gentlemen?’ he asked in his heavy accent. ‘Please be on your marks.’

  Dalton-James and Durham stood back to back, their pistols cocked. The former’s brow had only a slight frown marring its otherwise smooth features, but the latter was deathly white and perspiring a little. For his part Dalton-James gave the impression of having been told he could not go hunting deer this morning after all, but would have to accompany his younger sisters to the milliners. Durham looked as if someone had told him he was going to die within the next few minutes.

  ‘Gentlemen, start walking now,’ said the Zouave.

  Both men had taken but one pace when two riders came out of the mist, galloping up to the tree line.

  ‘Halt!’ screamed the Frenchman. ‘Please desist from the duel for one moment, gentlemen.’

  All five men – the two combatants, the two seconds and the referee – turned to see who it was who had the temerity to interrupt their early morning business.

  ‘Jack?’ cried Jarrard, seeing Crossman on one of the horses. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Lavinia!’ said Durham, in a dull tone.

  ‘Mrs Durham!’ Dalton-James exclaimed.

  The other two gentlemen said nothing, though the Frenchman shrugged and the ensign shook his head in bewilderment.

  Dalton-James was the first to recover from the shock.

  ‘Sergeant Crossman,’ he said sternly. ‘You will oblige me by taking Mrs Durham back to her quarters.’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Crossman, ‘I will not. Mrs Durham is free to go where she chooses. We happen to be out on a recreational ride together.’ He dismounted, saying to the lady in question, ‘I think we’ll rest the horses here, ma’am. There’s plenty of lush green grass on the edge of the orchard. We don’t want to take them back blown.’

  ‘Sergeant Crossman,’ screeched Dalton-James, red in the face, ‘I gave you an order.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re outranked, Lieutenant,’ said Mrs Durham, dismounting, her highly polished brown boots disappearing down into the mist along with the hem of her riding habit, ‘I asked General Buller to provide me with an escort and he ordered Sergeant Crossman to remain with me wherever I wished to go. I chose to come here, to this pretty little orchard.’

  ‘Strict instructions, sir,’ Crossman said. ‘There would be hell to pay with the general if I were to assert myself with Mrs Durham – I’m only a lowly sergeant, after all.’

  Jarrard snorted in merriment, while Dalton-James continued to look thunderous.

  The lieutenant said, ‘Captain Durham, please order your wife to return to her quarters.’

  Durham said weakly, ‘Lavinia, dear—’

  ‘Bertie,’ she interrupted, ‘you may save your words. I am staying here. If Lieutenant Dalton-James is to kill you, then I must be here to watch it. I am your wife, after all. You are going to kill my husband, Lieutenant, are you not?’

  Dalton-James looked embarrassed. ‘He has an equal opportunity of shooting me also, Mrs Durham.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lieutenant,’ she said, ‘you know he can’t shoot for toffee. Bertie couldn’t hit his own horse if he were sitting in the saddle at the time. So, make no mistake about it, sir – you will be shooting a man in cold blood.’

  ‘He called me a liar, ma’am.’

  ‘Then of course he must die for it, because he will not retract what he believes to be the truth.’

  Dalton-James bristled. ‘This is rather indelicate, ma’am. You realize what he has accused me of? It would be indiscreet of me to state it here in front of witnesses – quite impossible.’

  ‘Lieutenant,’ she said in a low husky voice, ‘if my husband accused you of something, he did so because he believed it to be true. We have been much in each other’s company of late, you and I, but of course Captain Durham is mistaken in the idea that you forced yourself upon me, or that we talked of improper subjects. I have told Durham we remained within all the rules of propriety, but by that time you had challenged him. He has his code of honour too, you know. Like a good, watchful husband Captain Durham feels it is his duty to protect the innocence of his wife. He is wrong, of course, in thinking that you did not have my welfare at heart, and that you behaved in any way but what was appropriate. Captain Durham has always been a little strongheaded when it comes to defending me – he is rather overfond of me, you understand. Would you kill one of your brother officers for being overzealous in his protection of a lady – the wife he holds dear?’

  Dalton-James stared at Mrs Durham, next at Crossman, and finally at Captain Durham. Then without a word he fired his pistol into the ground, disturbing the mist. The sound of the shot rang through the orchard. The lieutenant then bowed to Mrs Durham, saying, ‘By your leave, ma’am,’ made his apologies to the French Zouave, before striding off towards Jarrard who was holding his coatee.

  Durham, not to be outdone by this wonderfully dramatic exit, also fired his pistol into the turf. Unfortunately the bullet hit a flint and ricocheted away into the branches of the trees, making one or two of the observers – including Captain Durham himself – flinch and duck their heads. After that it was difficult for him to stride off in a similar manner to Dalton-James.

  Instead he took his wife aside and spoke to her quietly, before retrieving his coatee from the patient ensign.

  The ensign’s expression showed how relieved he was that the duel had been called off. He was a young lad, newly commissioned, and the whole thing was a bit of a nightmare for him. Durham had requested his aid, he had given it rather unwillingly, and now he was quite glad that there was not a body lying on the orchard floor, seeping blood into fallen leaves and rotten fruit. Had there been so, he might have been sent home in disgrace.

  A week later, Sergeant Crossman and his men – including Devlin, who was now on the mend – were in the hovel they called their quarters when Major Lovelace came to the doorway beaming.

  ‘What is it, sir?’ cried Wynter. ‘Is the war over?’

  The major shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Wynter, but news almost as good. You remember the second strong box you hid in the rocks. We have retrieved it.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Crossman, with bated breath. ‘Did it contain anything valuable?’

  ‘Only ten thousand pounds in silver – Maria Theresa dollars, minted in Austria.’

  He tossed a coin to Crossman, who inspected the large silver piece. On one side was an Imperial double-headed eagle, and on the other a profile of a lady.

  ‘Ten thousand pounds?’ he repeated for the benefit of his men. ‘Shared between us?’

  ‘Two thousand for me, two thousand for Lieutenant Dalton-James, two thousand for you as commander of the fox hunt, Sergeant Crossman, and a thousand for each of the men.’

  Wynter’s eyes bulged. ‘A thousand pounds – I’m rich,’ he said.

  Lovelace laughed. ‘Hardly rich, Lance Corporal Wynter, but more money than you’ve seen in your life before, I expect.’

  ‘When do we get it?’ asked Clancy. ‘Can I have mine now?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until after the war is over, Private Clancy,’ said Major Lovelace. ‘The box is being transported back to England. You – or in the event of something happening to you, your nearest relative – will receive the money once the Army of the East returns to Britain.’

  There was a momentary look of disappointment on the faces of the soldiers, but they soon cheered up again, chattering amongst themselves, telling each other how they were going to spend their money once they had it in their hands.

  Major Lovelace took Sergeant Cro
ssman aside.

  ‘Well done, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘You deserve your prize money. I don’t think the lieutenant and I actually earned ours – the rescue was rather easier than your part of the action – but we’re not going to pass our share over. We have expenses in life too.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ grinned Crossman. ‘I’m not greedy – and the men are happy with their share.’ He became serious again. ‘There’s just one thing that puzzles me, sir. Why paper money for the troops in Sebastopol – and then this chest of silver coin? Who was the coin intended for?’

  Lovelace looked grim. ‘I’ve thought about that too. There’s a conclusion I’ve come to, which I do not like. The money was intended for a non-Russian, a foreigner, who insisted on currency that was instantly redeemable.’

  ‘A foreigner?’

  ‘A traitor, Sergeant. I believe that money was destined to come here, to someone on our side. Payment for services rendered, or to be rendered. I think we have a traitor in our ranks somewhere – not just some Greek or Bulgarian servant – someone of high rank.

  Crossman’s mind ran over the possibilities.

  ‘Mr Upton? The Englishman who came out of Sebastopol?’

  ‘No – too obvious. We’ve had him thoroughly investigated. I think it goes deeper into us than that. I really think the traitor is someone very close to us, one of us.’

  ‘Have you any ideas, sir?’

  ‘Not yet – but I will have. Keep your eyes and ears open, Sergeant – and your mind. We’ll get him, eventually. Until then, let me shake your hand, sir. You have put two thousand pounds into mine – it is the least I can do.’

  Crossman grinned and took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly.