A Charming Cavalryman for Clementine_A Historical Romance Novel Based on True Events

by Hanna Hamilton

  He did not respond. Stirling did not even move a muscle. It was as if he was a resident in another world.

  “Stirling, what happened?” Clementine wanted nothing more than to run forward and take him into her arms. Instinctively, she hesitated. She figured any abrupt movements might startle him and make things worse than they were.

  There still was no answer. When Clementine finally stood fully in front of him, the air gushed out of her lungs as if they had been squeezed. Her once proud and beautiful man looked like he had been dragged through hell and back. His green eyes had a lifeless sheen to them, darkened in colour – there was no reflection of gaiety and life like there once was.

  His uniform was in tatters. He had not been washed in days. His face was covered with grime and stubble that had started to turn into a dark beard. It pained her to see him like this. However, more than that, it angered her. How could they have left an officer in her majesty’s army to decay so? It was as if he didn’t matter anymore now that he had served his purpose.

  “Stirling, Sally and I are going to bathe you now. We are going to have to remove your uniform. Will you let us?”

  He continued to sit there, staring into nothingness. Clementine nodded at Sally. Slowly, like they were moving in on a sleeping lion, they walked up to him. Clementine carefully placed her hand on his shoulder. There was no reaction. Gently, she tipped him forward and removed his tunic jacket.

  “Well done, Clementine. That is further than anyone has come according to the report,” said Florence, walking up to them. “Usually, he insults anyone who gets too close.” She smiled at her subordinates.

  “I think it’s because I am his fiancé that he sort of trusts me.” Clementine couldn’t hold back any longer. Putting voice to the situation coaxed the tears forth.

  “Oh, dear…Clementine, I was not aware,” said Florence. To Clementine and Sally’s surprise, she took her into her arms. “It’ll be all right. Do your duty. Never give up and you will find happiness in the end – I know so.”

  Clementine nodded and snivelled at the same time.

  “There, there,” whispered Florence as she moved away. “Now, there’s nothing like useful activity to put the mind to rest, ladies. I suggest we get this man cleaned up. He looks like he could do with a wash. Check him for lice – you know the drill – oh, and try and give him a shave if he doesn’t put up too much of a fight.”

  Both women nodded and began their tasks. To their big surprise, he did not resist. For the first few moments, Florence had waited to make sure nothing happened. When it became apparent that Stirling would hurt neither of them, she left with the words, “Make sure he is fed before you put him to bed. Tomorrow, he will start with a strict regimen of exercises to get him back on his feet again.”

  “Point your toe, Stirling,” said Clementine.

  It was the second week since his arrival at the Scutari Hospital. There had been no progress. Her fiancé hadn’t spoken a word to her in all of that time.

  “Come on – you have to give it a try. Don’t you want to walk again like we did that day when we went boating by the Thames? It was the day you asked me to marry you.” She saw him tense. “I love you, Stirling.” She had said that to him every day many times. “Do it for me.”

  The ember, the spark in his beautiful green eyes, she had coaxed with her words extinguished just as quickly as she had kindled it. Clementine did not know what to do anymore. The man she loved was lost some place else. It was as if he no longer remembered the magical moments they had shared together.

  For another half an hour, Clementine tried to make him move. All Stirling did was sit there in silence. When their session was over, she wheeled him to the mess hall where she placed him in the midst of his fellow soldiers. Like every other day, they welcomed him into their midst in the way fellows in arms did.

  After that, she went to fetch him some food. Mutton stew was on the menu again. Clementine often thought that it was the only thing the cook knew how to make.

  As she waited for the brown brew to be ladled onto the plate, she thought of Royce. She had written to him but there had been no reply. After that, she had also written to his commanding officer, Lord Cardigan – still no answer. What was happening over there?

  Stirling told her nothing; the only way she got her hands on any information was from the wounded men and from the little snippets Florence had fed her and the other women. Somehow, there was always a too greater touch of patriotic fervour when her superior spoke – it all sounded like some pitch to keep up moral.

  “When we, the noble six hundred, advanced, it was a fine sight. We were a line of gleaming silver and red as the blades of our sabres glowed in the sunlight. Our tunics were bright and our intent as one. Advance, said Lord Cardigan and we did…”

  The man telling the story cleared his throat. He had spoken with fervour and pride. The initial expression on his face of a memory well remembered and shared changed to one of despair.

  “Equipment jingled, horses whickered and the men shared words of glory. That was until the first shell burst in the air about 100 yards in front of us. The next one dropped in front of Nolan's horse and exploded on touching the ground…”

  Clementine froze on the spot. She stood a few paces away from the table. The man with the East-London accent spoke in almost a whisper. It was as if he considered his tale too fragile to share.

  “He uttered a wild yell as his horse turned around, and, with his arms extended, the reins dropped on the animal's neck, he trotted towards us, but in a few yards dropped dead off his horse. I do not imagine that anybody except those in the front line of the 17th Lancers, the 11th Hussars and 13th Light Dragoons saw what had happened – I did though and good old Major Whitt Whittaker, right before me, did too.”

  She studied the burly man. She did not recognize him. He was tall, pug-eared and he had an affable face. He wore the same uniform Stirling had worn before she had had to remove it. This man was from the Light Brigade – Clementine was certain of it. He had shared in her fiancé’s ordeal.

  “We went on. When we got about two or three hundred yards farther, the battery of the Russian horse artillery opened fire. I do not recollect hearing a word from anybody as we gradually broke from a trot to a canter, though the noise of the striking of men and horses by grape and round shot was deafening…”

  The stranger took a swig of water. Clementine’s gaze left his face to look at Stirling. For the first time since seeing him again, there was an emotion on his face. His eyes had watered over almost as if he had been crying. It warmed her heart that there was still something left of him. She swore to herself that she would have to double her efforts from then on.

  “When clear again of the guns, I saw two or three of my fellows making their way back, and as the fire from both flanks was still heavy, it was a matter of running the gauntlet for the second time. I have not sufficient recollection of minor incidents to describe them, as probably no two men who were in that charge would describe it in the same way.”

  He shuddered. Clementine could see that the memory taxed him a great deal. She asked herself had Stirling taken part in that charge? Seeing him, she immediately knew. He had probably led from the front.

  “When I was back pretty nearly where we started from, I discovered I had been carrying a man in my arms the entire length of the ravine. It was he…”

  He pointed at Stirling, making Clementine gulp.

  “He’s a hero, he is. One of the last times I remember seeing Major Whitt Whittaker during the charge was when he rode down a Russian gunner on foot, aiming at me with his carbine.”

  The teller spread his arms for effect.

  “He was just within reach of the Major’s sword, and he struck him across his neck. The blow did not do much harm, but it disconcerted his aim and I am still here to tell the tale and have hardly a blemish on my person to boot.”

  The group had already grown in size to include every individual in the mess hall. �
��Go on, Rory. Get on with it. It’s the first time any of us have heard much about it,” said one of the soldiers.

  “All right, all right. Is a man not allowed a drink?”

  “Not when he’s speaking to a bunch of lads who have been starved of any information from the front.”

  “What happened next, was that a mounted gunner struck my horse on the forehead with his sabre. Spurring Cloud, the Major half jumped, half blundered, over the fallen horses and cannon thrashing the man threatening me – saved my life he did. After that, I only remember finding myself alone among the Russians trying to get out as best I could…”

  “What happened next?”

  “Aye, where was the Major? Do ye remember where ye found him?”

  More questions followed. Rory Bennett, a man from the rookery of Saint Giles was a hero of the empire. And more importantly he was a survivor. Unlike his poor friend Jake Metcalfe who lay dead on the field with two thirds of the brigade.

  Rory brushed away a tear. Clementine saw that Stirling had also moved. He too wiped his face of the signs of sadness that had wetted him.

  “In spite of the attempts of the Russians to cut him down, Major Whitt Whittaker still rode on. He headed for Lord Cardigan who was surrounded by the enemy, brandishing his sabre like the lion he is…”

  There was a deep murmur from everyone except Clementine. She had expected the pompous fool to turn and gallop off at the first sign of trouble. She had misjudged him. As it turned out, Cardigan was true to his word. The commander of the Light Horse remained with his men to the end.

  “Like a demon, the Major fought so hard, cutting the general free from the melee. The Major slapped Cardigan’s horse on the rump so that it bolted back in the direction it had come. Before the Major could follow him, the enemy killed his mount, catapulting him into the air until he vanished amongst the dead.”

  Rory looked around him. “It was then, I lost time. I can’t remember what happened next. I must have gone back to get the Major – I don’t know for sure. How I did it with him surrounded by all of those Russians, I will never know. I think that every man who was engaged in that disastrous affair at Balaclava, and who was fortunate enough to come out of it alive, must feel that it was only by a merciful decree of the Almighty Providence that he escaped from the greatest apparent certainty of death which could possibly be conceived.”

  “Somehow I had gotten back to the safety of our lines. When I was there, I found that I was the only senior person around. Any surviving officers were either wounded or distraught. I looked to Cardigan, but he too was a broken man. He stared down the valley in search of his beautiful brigade. Consequently, I took command until Lord Lucan arrived. He was just as much in shock as the rest of us.”

  “It sounds like the bravest and most ignominious moment in our military history,” said Clementine.

  “You have no idea, woman! How dare you even speak of it? Hundreds of the finest horsemen perished that day because of an ill-fated command. You are a woman, you would never understand!”

  Stirling looked away before their gazes met. His expression had been so hard. There was none of the love he had shown her back in England. It was like he had perished with some of the six hundred and another man inhabited his body.

  Without waiting for the tears to claim her, Clementine placed the plate with his lunch on the table and walked away. She did not know whether to feel sad or angry. How dare he speak to her in such a manner. He had no idea what she had been through since arriving at the Scutari Hospital. It had been a living hell. Clementine was about to turn back and tell him her mind when a stern voice stopped her.

  “I don’t think that would be a particularly good idea, Clementine. I saw and heard what happened. It is a very good thing,” said Florence.

  “Good thing? Did you hear what my fiancé said to me? How harsh he was.”

  “Yes, I did. And weren’t those the first words since he got here and most probably before that since after the accident as well?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Sometimes victory comes to us in the strangest of guises. It is up to you, Clementine, to do something with it.”

  “What can I do? The man I love thinks I am some sort of half-wit. He doesn’t respect me. He won’t even try to talk to me.”

  Florence placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Keep at it. Don’t give up and you may even get him to walk again. He needs to hear the right things from you or from someone. The reason he cannot walk is because he has lost the will to do so. We have to try and find that will again.”

  Before Clementine could turn away, Florence spoke again. “Clementine, remember that love never comes one way. On occasion, God wants us to prove to Him that we are worthy of that gift He has bestowed upon us – being in love is the easiest thing in the world. Loving somebody is not. It is by loving someone that we discover everything about them. The trick is to continue loving when we find things we don’t necessarily like, for in time, the good things that outweigh will be upon you again soon.”

  Clementine nodded weakly. She was still sad. Her entire life seemed like this impossible ordeal.

  “Loving someone when things are easy is simple. Loving somebody when things get difficult, that’s when it gets complicated. You have to do that, Clementine, if you ever want to marry, Stirling. You will get through this. You must have faith.”

  With those final words, Florence left. Clementine knew that her mentor was right. She and Stirling had only ever had halcyon days so far. It was still early on in their relationship to be confronted with something so sinister as being handicapped and hostility. Yet, maybe it was best to get that out of the way now. That was better than later in life.

  Chapter 29

  “Here’s the lad,” said Rory, rolling Stirling into the room Clementine had set aside for their therapy session. “Come on, sir. There’s a good gentleman, say hello to your ladylove.”

  Stirling didn’t say a thing. He didn’t even look in her direction.

  “He’s a little grumpy this morning, like. It tends to get better in the afternoons. I find he enjoys it when I talk of the charge.” Rory shook his head in despair. “Sometimes, I think he wished that I would have left him there to die.”

  Clementine pressed her lips together. “I never did thank you for saving his life, Mr Bennett.”

  “Think nothing of it, Miss. He’s a good man, he is. It’s because of him I can ride a horse so well.” He thought a moment. “Oh, and I’d be honoured if you’d call me Rory. All my mates do.”

  Clementine giggled. “Am I your mate now?”

  “Yes, ye are.”

  “Then, I’d be delighted to call you Rory.”

  The pug-eared man beamed at her. “Good. I suppose ye will be wanting to get started on him. He mentioned that he occasionally feels numbness and tingling in his legs. I don’t know what to make of that, but maybe you do.”

  “He spoke to you?” Clementine was surprised. She expected he only vented anger and not words about his discomfort.

  “Aye, he does. Coming to think of it. He told me that yer sister is married to the Captain – Captain Royce Ryder. I just wanted to tell ye that he is alive and well. Somehow, he survived that terrible charge. I don’t know how he did it but he did.”

  Clementine’s hands flew to her mouth. She had forgotten all about poor Royce because of all of the excitement concerning Stirling. “Oh, I am so happy. Thank you, Rory.” Totally forgetting about Victorian poise, she took the big man into her arms, kissing him on the cheek.

  “I am happy to be of service,” he said, blushing.

  “Would you mind staying here for the session? I think having you around might be of some use to Stirling.”

  “Of course. I’d love to help the man who helped me so often. And besides, I am to be shipped back to the Crimea again by the end of the week. It appears they still need every able-bodied man.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry to hear that,” said Clementine.


  “So am I. This is not because I worry about being deployed. I very much doubt the cavalry will see much action anymore. War has changed. In future, it will be all about the artillery and the infantry. I only hope I can go home to my wife and children soon. Anyway, I am babbling on when we should be working on good Stirling here.”

  Clementine nodded. “Yes, let’s get started.” She turned to face Stirling. “Stirling, can you point your toe?”

  “This is the same waste of time as every day. No, I damn well cannot,” he hissed.

  Clementine flinched. However, this time, she did not feel hurt. Hearing him speak, no matter how disharmonious, was better than silence. “At least try,” she insisted.

  “Show your fiancé what your capable of, sir,” added Rory.

  Stirling gave him a hostile look, making the other man shrug nonchalantly.