| Chapter Twenty-One - The Duellist's |
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As my pot was filled and the Wallah left my side, I fell back to my reveries knowing quite well that whatever else may happen Will would be physically safe with Richard. I listened to the calling of traders in the streets as I sighed and remembered the morning after the ball. It was early in Calcutta as I awoke. Laying in bed I listened to the noises of people in the street setting up their wares for the days trading, the previous night came flooding back to me. I sighed and sat up clutching my head as a hangover came rocketing towards me. “Oh gods, this is not going to be a good day”. “You look awful old mate, here drink this” I took the offered mug of tea from a genial Paul Latroy. Paul had served in India for most of his soldiering life and had risen through his own merits to the rank of sergeant with help from no-one. His familiarity with me and the other young officers was well known and was like a badge of honour from a man like him. “I know what you’re facing today Captain, and there’s only one piece of advice I can give you, kill the bastard before he kills you” Paul noticed my look of unease, killing a man in battle was not the same as murdering one over a drunken brawl “I know you two was friends, but that’s done with now and today his intention will be putting two and a half foot of sharpened Sheffield steel through you”. I felt the cold dawn of realization as though the metal was already impaling my stomach. Paul smiled as my composure changed “Now that’s brought to your senses - get dressed lad, time to earn this sword” He threw me my sword from across the room and departed with a grin as I caught it in both hands.
I arrived at the appointed place at a quarter to nine and was delighted to see no sign of Richard, for I must admit that my nerves were causing me a fair amount of trouble. I felt my legs shake as they had done in my first battle. I tried to put it down to cold but the warm air of the Indian morning immediately informed me that I was fooling myself. I moved to the side of the chosen field and drew my sword, looking over the blade as the early sun glinted from its polished surface, testing the edge with my thumb. I had bribed one of the cavalry armourers with a half bottle of brandy to put a good edge on it only a few days before and he had done himself proud making a perfect edge sharp as a razor but not so steep as to make it brittle. I had not expected that this new edges first taste of blood would be that of an ally. I sheathed the sword as I heard horses approach. Paul approached Richard’s second - an officer I had not met before, and they dealt with the formalities. The whole thing passing me in a daze until we called to our place and to guard. I’ve always found moments like this the most perfect sharpeners of the human mind. I recall everything about those last moments. My breathing becoming faster and shallower, the sound of birds flying overhead, Richard’s face losing its hard edge as he realized what we both faced. For a moment we looked into each other’s eyes and saw death. Then the whistle blew and our swords clashed, after this initial meeting of blades we both jumped back a little and circled. It was always the way with men and any other animal, to circle as they search for an opening. As I stepped forward my boot caught on a stone in the ground and I stumbled. This was almost my undoing as Richard thrust forward with a straight lunge aimed at my throat. I brought my sword up in a wild sweep that knocked his sword to the side, the tip of my blade cutting the cloth of his jacket through sheer luck. Regaining my composure our duel proper commenced in earnest. Richard was a nimble and ruthless opponent, constantly feinting with fast lunges and then moving in for deep slashes keeping me on my guard. Our swords locked and we pushed back at each other my strength was greater yet he made the smarter move, disengaging quickly his sword stabbed at my left arm making me cry out in pain and anger as I felt the wet heat of blood dripping from the wound. Instead of disengaging I saw Richard grin at my pain and my teeth gritted as he twisted the point causing me to cry out in agony. Our seconds ran forward but I shouted at them to stand back it was just a scratch, an obvious lie but few people argue with a man with a sword. I stepped back into my guard, my pose already changed. The pretence of upper class dueling gone from my stature, my back rounded and my sword held defensively. I would not forget the torturous feel of metal on bone that Richard had deliberately caused. When I spoke to Paul years later he said that in those few moments he saw me change from a gentleman to an animal yet it was too late to intervene in any way. Richard, sensing that he may have the upper hand, lunged forward in a low thrust to my stomach. My sword lashed out, knocking his blade to the side, the tip of my sword circled and the blade cut deep into Richards sword arm. Richards second ran forward to stop my onslaught as my blade cut back again slashing at his arms, grunting with the effort as Richard put his arms up to protect himself. As his second reached us he started to draw his pistol but was stopped as I slammed the hand guard into his nose feeling the crunch of bone as he fell backwards unconscious. I turned back to Richard as he lay bleeding and hefted the sword once more, the point aimed at his throat. Before I could lunge forward I heard the click of a pistol cocking behind me and turned to see Paul aiming his flintlock at my head “Who the bloody hell are you? I came here with a friend and now I have a rabid beast before me. Get out of here”. The adrenaline hadn’t quite left my body and so I looked back to Richard “You’re nothing Montague, next time I see you, I’ll kill you”. I looked back to Paul and felt the start of my shame welling up, sheathed my sword and walked back to my horse. Sighing I threw some money on the table, brought back to the modern day by the pain of the memories caused by the day I realized I had a side to me I hated. It was a side that would rear its head every so often, sometimes when I least expected it. I stood and left the coffee house walking back toward Siraj’s dwelling. How would I confront Will over his apparent friendship with one of my most bitter enemies? How did they meet? These questions flooded my mind as I walked in the warm and fragrant Indian air. |
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