by J M Hemmings
William nodded slowly as he mused on this information.
‘Well sir, your willingness tae learn from others seems tae ha’ done you very well.’
Captain Liversage chuckled and twirled his sabre about in a flamboyant flourish.
‘Indeed it has, my lad. Fit as a fiddle, I am, despite my advanced years. Now, have you had enough time to recuperate your energy? We are not yet finished with today’s fencing practice.’
***
24th October
‘Look who it is! We havenae seen much ay you in the past month, Will,’ Paul said with a broad grin when William walked into their tent.
‘Aye, Captain Liversage has been keeping me right busy, he has,’ William answered.
‘You’re quite the swordsman now though, eh?’ Paul commented. ‘That auld master has been teaching you all ay his tricks, has he no’? We’ve seen you twa battling it out day after day wi’ the practice sabres. He always wins ay course, but he doesnae hammer you quite as quickly an’ soundly as he did a few weeks ago, like.’
William laughed.
‘That’s right boyo, I can almost hold m’ own against the captain now!’
‘By “almost” you mean you can hold him off fir ten seconds, as opposed tae two seconds now, eh?’ Michael roared jovially.
All of them laughed heartily at this.
‘Aye, aye, lads,’ William said as the laughter died down. ‘He’s a right demon wi’ a blade in his hand, he is. I wouldnae like tae be the Russian who has tae face him in battle.’
Michael furrowed his brow and shifted uncomfortably on his stool.
‘He’s an odd one though, is he no’? The lads say all sorts ay strange things about him. You can tell us the truth, Will. We willnae let anyone else know. So, is he really a … a…’
‘A what, Mikey?’
‘A … devil worshipper?’
William let out a bemused chortle.
‘Is tha’ what they say about Captain Liversage, then?’
‘Watty says Liversage has all these strange, evil idols from the other side ay the world in his tent,’ Michael answered. ‘Says he does blood sacrifices or some such witchcraft too, an’ that’s how he looks so young an’ moves so fast despite his advanced years.’
Paul stood up and chipped in, an expression of consternation etched onto his freckled cheeks.
‘I heard tha’ when he was in India, he was part ay some human sacrifice cult. They’d steal chavies from the poor in the dead ay night, an’ sacrifice them on an altar in some dark heathen temple there, an’, an’ they’d … they’d all eat the poor bairn’s heart an’ drink its blood.’
‘I was also told tha’ he keeps snakes in there,’ Michael added, looking around worriedly, as if someone may be eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘That he’s got this kind ay snake called a “cobra” from India, it’s got a hood on its head, an’ it can spit deadly poison, an’ if ye go’ intae the tent wi’out Liversage’s permission, the cobra will spit its venom intae your eyes an’ blind you.’
William raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘And what dae you lads think ay all that?’
‘Well I dunnae know, do I!’ Paul spluttered. ‘You’re the one who spends most ay his time wi’ the man. You’ve been in his tent a lot, you tell us!’
William stared each of his friends in their eyes, fixing them with a grave stare of intense sincerity, and as he spoke he lowered his voice to a soft and almost inaudible register.
‘What I’m going tae tell you lot about Captain Liversage, you’ve got tae swear tae never repeat tae another living soul. Swear it on your mothers’ graves!’
‘We swear it, Will, we swear it!’ Michael said eagerly, and the others mumbled in hasty agreement. Even Andrew was so enthralled that he put down his guitar and drew closer to William.
William nodded and swallowed slowly, as if preparing to divulge dark secrets of the occult.
‘He does things,’ he murmured quietly, his piercing gaze darting from man to man, ‘strange, unnatural and terrifying things.’
‘Sweet Lord Jesus, he does sacrifice babies an’ eat their wee hearts!’ Paul gasped.
‘He’s a bleedin’ sorcerer, a w-, w-, warlock, he is!’ Michael stammered.
‘Aye lads, tha’ much is true,’ William continued, his tone grave and severe. ‘An’ he’s inducted me intae his order ay evil.’ His eyes suddenly seemed to light up with a supernatural glow, and he flashed a twisted and demonic smile at his friends. It seemed momentarily as if the tent had become darker, and the shadows in the corners were swelling with some sort of malevolent force. The men shrank back in fear beneath William’s dark aura, which seemed to be pulsing invisibly around his form like some sort of engorged, blackened heart.
‘Aye lads, I’m no longer the William Gisborne you once knew. Now, I am … William the Dark!’
A collective gasp rippled through the huddled men.
‘And the first evil practice tha’ Captain Liversage forced me intae, tae corrupt me’ pure soul an’ twist an’ destroy it, was tae … eat only fruits an’ vegetables!’
William jumped up with a maniacal roar, and the others fell back in fear – before quickly raising puzzled eyebrows and looking around in perplexed confusion.
‘Wh-, what?’ Paul stammered. ‘Wait, what on earth are you on about, Will?’
William laughed uproariously, slapping his thigh with enthusiastic vigour as he did so.
‘I got yous! I had all ay yous!’
‘Bloody hell Will, that wasnae funny!’ Paul whined. ‘Tellin’ us you’d sold your bleedin’ soul tae the devil an’ what not. Crikey, man!’
William couldn’t stop laughing, and his glee was so infectious that the others couldn’t help but join in.
‘You lot shouldnae be so gullible as tae believe all tha’ nonsense the lads are spoutin’ about Captain Liversage,’ he said.
‘I suppose we deserved tha’,’ Andrew admitted sheepishly. ‘But there must be something ay a grain ay truth tae the rumours, surely?’
‘Captain Liversage is indeed a practitioner ay a number ay Eastern philosophies, tha’ part is true. However, lads, there’s nowt “evil” about it, nowt at all. And aye, he’s got some religious statues from India, China an’ Siam in his tent, but he doesnae pray tae them or worship them or anything ay the sorts. They’re just souvenirs ay his travels. He does “meditate” a lot, though.’
‘Meditate? What’s tha’ then?’ Paul asked.
‘He’s trying tae teach me how t’ dae it, actually. It’s no’ a religious thing, it’s more like, well, trying tae focus your thoughts an’ clear your mind, an’ relax your body, like, an’ really get in touch wi’ your soul.’
‘Sounds like humbug tae me,’ Michael scoffed.
‘It does sound strange, but it works if you dae it right. He also gets up in the wee hours ay the morning before sunrise tae practice this thing called “yoga”.’
‘Yoga? What on earth is tha’?’ Paul asked.
‘It’s, er, a kind ay Indian exercise thing,’ William said. ‘You kind ay get your body intae all these stretches an’ strange positions an’ such. The captain tells me it’s also a very spiritual kind ay thing. I’m no’ so sure about all that though. Still, it seems tae have worked for him.’
‘That’s bloody strange, it is,’ remarked Paul, who was looking rather perplexed. ‘Why anybody would want tae be up before sunrise, I cannae understand fir the life ay me. Myself, I try tae squeeze out every last minute ay sleep I can before tha’ bastard of a bugler wakes us up at the crack ay dawn!’
Everyone chortled at this, and murmurs of agreement flitted around the group.
‘Hey lads,’ Andrew said after the chuckles had died down, ‘do yous remember when tha’ photographer chap, Mr Fenton, it was, took his photograph ay all ay us?’
‘Oh aye, aye!’ William said. ‘I’ve been so busy recently tha’ I forgot about tha’ fir a while, even though I was so excited ate see the photograph
. I wonder wha’ it looked like?’
‘We’ll ne’er know now,’ Michael muttered glumly. ‘No’ until we get back tae England, anyway. Fenton left a week ago, an’ took all ay his phot-, photo…’
‘Photographic equipment,’ Andrew interjected, ‘tha’s what it was called.’
‘Aye, photographic equipment,’ Michael continued, ‘well he took it all wi’ him when he left.’
‘Tha’s a shame,’ Paul said. ‘I would ha’ loved tae see it, but I suppose tha’ will have tae wait until we’re back home, eh lads?’
‘Aye, when we get back,’ Michael murmured, a strange light glinting in his eyes.
Everyone fell silent for a while, and a strange pall seemed to have descended from out of nowhere upon the tent.
‘Listen lads, I’ve got tae get back tae the Captain,’ William announced, breaking the uncanny silence. ‘It’s been good seeing all ay you again.’
‘Aye William, aye,’ Paul said. ‘We dunnae see nearly enough ay you these days. Come an’ sit around our campfire tonight an’ share a wee dram with us, if you can.’
‘I’ll dae tha’. Right oh lads, I’m off!’
***
‘“In happiness and suffering, in joy and grief, we should regard all creatures as we regard our own self, and should therefore refrain from inflicting upon others such injury as would appear undesirable to us if inflicted upon ourselves,”. This, my boy, is one of my favourite passages of Jain scripture.’
‘Tha’s … tha’s some true wisdom there, sir. I must admit tha’ I’m enjoying these lessons ay yours. I ne’er thought I’d have any interest in no ancient Indian philosophies, but it’s really fascinating stuff, like. And I can really see the effect it’s had on your life, sir. I’ve really begun tae understand, Captain Liversage, if I may be so bold as tae say, what the core ideas ay these teachings mean fir our lives, fir ourselves, an’ fir our souls.’
Captain Liversage smiled and ruffled William’s shaggy blonde hair.
‘Good lad, good lad! You’re a fast learner, you are. A very apt student. Indeed, perhaps one of the best I’ve ever had.’
William’s cheeks reddened a tad, and the corners of his mouth inched upward at the compliment while subdued delight gave a slight sparkle in his eyes.
‘D’you mean tha’, sir?’
‘Absolutely. There is something very special about your spirit, William.’
‘There is, sir?’
Captain Liversage’s countenance suddenly took on an expression of grave severity, and he stared into William’s eyes with his own deep-set green orbs. William couldn’t help but feel some discomfort, for it was as if the Captain were looking through the portal of his eyes, peeling away the membrane of the physical and probing deep into the soul that was hidden behind that gelatinous veil.
‘I say this to you with the most serious of intents, Private William Gisborne: you are not like other men. There is something about you that both inspires and terrifies me. I do not want you to be alarmed by what I am saying, but know this: you are different. This is why I chose you to be my new aide. Did you not think it was strange that I picked you, a mere private, rather than a junior officer such as a lieutenant? Well, my boy, I chose you for a very specific reason. You see, I cannot explain exactly why, but in my soul, with my chakra, I sensed that you were different from the masses of ordinary fellows out there who surround us in this camp. Quite different, quite unique indeed. What you are – the real you, I mean – the soul that has taken up temporary residence in this mortal body of yours, is ancient. Your soul, I believe, has lived through hundreds, if not thousands of lifetimes before this one. You may in fact be in your final incarnation before nirvana.’
William didn’t quite know how to respond to this, and Captain Liversage sensed this and smiled sympathetically.
‘It’s quite all right my boy, you don’t need to respond to this,’ he said. ‘I know that what I’m telling you must seem quite overwhelming, especially for one as young as yourself. As I said, you do not need to say anything on your part. However, think on these words when you meditate. You have been practicing the meditation techniques I have showed you, have you not?’
‘I’ve been trying, sir,’ he replied.
‘Good, good. You must keep trying, my boy. As I said—’
‘Good evening, Captain Liversage. Good evening, Private Gisborne.’
Captain Morris interrupted them, striding through the tent door, and looking at once haggard and flustered. William sprang up off his seat and immediately stood at attention.
‘Captain Morris, sir!’ he said, saluting stiffly.
‘At ease, Private. Liversage, command requires your presence immediately. It is believed that the main Russian force intends to attack us on the morrow, in the Balaclava valleys.’
Captain Liversage nodded.
‘I see. Preparations will have to be made then. Do you think the Light Brigade will see action tomorrow then?’
‘I am quite convinced of it,’ Morris said.
Captain Liversage turned to William and spoke gravely.
‘William, sharpen your sword and lance point, and get your fellow troopers to do the same. Tomorrow we ride into battle, so inform your friends and prepare yourselves accordingly. Off with you now, boy. I will summon you when our meeting is over.’
‘Yes sir!’
***
From all around the campsite the sounds of sabre edges and lance points being scraped against whetstones was as the racket of a murder of clockwork crows, all cawing in their steel voices in a harsh, atonal clamour that rose above the general hubbub of the Light Brigade camp. From here or there the occasional shout, or peal of laughter, would cut through the aural barrage of steel-scraping, but for the most part the men spoke in hushed and subdued tones, all wary of the coming dawn.
William and his friends sat around their own campfire, sharpening their sabres and passing around a bottle of rum that Watson had managed to smuggle in from somewhere.
‘G-, g-, gi’ us another swig there, Cake,’ Watson slurred through his inebriation. He had already finished a bottle on his own before joining William and his friends, at Michael’s request. Paul, Andrew, and especially William, were not, however, particularly happy about having the cantankerous, aggressive drunkard at their fire.
William took a light sip, rolled his eyes and passed the bottle back to Watson, who slugged heavily on it. He had been calling William ‘Cake’ since he had taken on the position of Captain Liversage’s batman – referring to him, in a derogatory manner, as ‘the officer’s cake’.
‘Thanks Cake,’ he rasped. ‘But listen, like, you should’ve ‘ad a man’s swig on it before ye gave it back to me, shouldn’t you? Don’t come an’ drink your rum like you’re a little girl playing at a tea party wiff’ her bleedin’ dollies. We’re men ‘ere, Cake, men o’ the 17th bleedin’ Lancers, so you should bloody well drink like one.’
William just grumbled under his breath and shook his head.
‘Ignore him, Will,’ Andrew interjected. ‘He’s off his head, all pished again. He’s full ay nonsense, tha’ one is.’
‘Oy, what did you bloody well say about me?’ Watson snarled.
‘Hey, come now Watty,’ said Michael, who was sitting next to him. ‘Dunnae say silly things now, we’re all brothers here in the 17th. Death or Glory Boys, we—’
‘That one ain’t no bleedin’ Death or Glory Boy!’ Watson growled, pointing an accusatory finger at Andrew. ‘Neither ‘im nor this little officer’s darling Cake ‘as got what it takes!’
‘Watty, my lad, come now,’ Michael urged, placing a calming hand on Watson’s shoulder in an attempt to pacify him.
Watson, however, was too far taken with his drunken rage and he spun around forcefully, ripping Michael’s hand off his shoulder and flinging it away as if it were a slithering viper.
‘Don’t put your ‘ands on me, Mikey! Don’t you bloody touch me!’
This slight ignited Michael�
��s own fiery temper.
‘I’m trying tae help you, you big buffoon!’ he snapped, stabbing his sabre into the ground and clenching his fists. ‘We’ll all have the living daylights flogged out ay’ us if we’re caught brawlin’! Now are you honestly such a mighty fool tha’ tha’s what you’d want on the eve ay battle? Stop now wi’ your damned stupidity!’
Watson growled wordlessly and slugged heavily on the rum bottle. He snorted, coughed and wiped his ragged sleeve across his mouth before he replied.
‘Callin’ me stupid, are ye?! Bah, well you’re all a bunch a dirty, stinkin’ savages from the dark and uncivilised north! Fook your fookin’ Scotland, and bollocks to all o’ yous!’
Watson clenched his fists tight, spitting a wad of saliva off to the side after he said this, glaring at all of them with rage-blistered eyeballs; white molten steel orbs against the dark of night, daubed with umber tones of firelight.
‘Take your rum an’ leave, Watson,’ a calm but firm voice said, interrupting the tension-fraught silence. ‘Leave right now an’ dunnae come back tae this campfire. Go an’ sow your seeds ay negativity an’ hatred elsewhere.’
All of the men turned around stared with surprise at William as he stood tall and confident, the firelight illuminating his face in tones of red, scarlet and orange, which gave his grey hawk-eyes an unnatural glow. Some sort of preternatural power seemed to be radiating from a furnace-core deep within him; none of his friends had ever seen this side of him.
‘Will, you dunnae need—’ Paul began, but William gently hushed him.
‘No Paul, I do need tae. I’ll no’ be cowed an’ humiliated by this bullying drunkard no longer. And if you dunnae who I’m calling a bully an’ a drunkard, just tae be crystal clear, it’s you, Private Bryan Watson. Now get out ay’ here, we dunnae want your vile presence pollutin’ our otherwise fine company.’
Watson stood slack-jawed and dumbfounded, still having a hard time processing the fact that William was actually standing up to him. His jaw hung open for a few terse, drawn-out seconds before he finally spoke.
‘You little maggot, Cake! How dare you bleedin’ well speak to me like that!’
‘Dunnae call me “Cake” no more!’