Day 29 - 1767 words

‘Fine, said Gabriel. ‘Come to my quarters, such as they are.’ As he led the way along a narrow path that dug into the heart of the woodland, he said ‘Anyone who thinks that HQ could not have known it would be like this is not thinking hard enough. Look at my handbook.’ He waved his worn copy of ‘The Cavalry Officer’s Field Guide’ in Ernest’s direction. ‘Page one – how to get on a horse; page two, how to get off it again; page three, how to shoot the poor animal.’
‘At least the horses get shot.’ Muttered Ernest, a couple of paces behind him. He was thinking of men he’d seen strung on the wire in No Man’s Land, taking days to die, calling for release from pain, more than for anyone to save them, but beyond any help from either side. The horses, felt Ernest, were getting a better deal at the end of it.
They reached a clearing where there were a couple of canvas tents slung up under a large oak tree. ‘Here we are, Robin Hood and the Merry Men in the heart of Sherwood Forest.’ said Gabriel, ducking under a tent flap. ‘We can talk in here.’
Ernest found that he did not know how to start. He looked back out through the opening in the tent and across to where the sunlight picked out a patch of buttercups, growing unafraid in the clearing. Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘Look, since we’ve met like this – I should say – about Effie…’
Ernest looked at him, wondering what he meant, but deciding that Effie’s part in all this could wait. ‘There’s no need to talk about Effie.’ He said. ‘I don’t need you to say anything.’
Gabriel looked relieved. ‘Really? I must say that’s extremely decent of you. Spoken like a gentleman. I always knew you and I were one and the same at heart. Well, thank you, and we’ll say no more about her. Such matters don’t belong in a battlefield, do they?’
Ernest could only agree. He felt the letter, tucked deep into the inside pocket of his greatcoat, that he had written to Effie and still not sent; the letter agreeing to marry her. As his fingers traced the outline of the engagement ring safe within the letters folds he wondered why he was delaying. If he had made Effie pregnant then they must be married with all speed. Every moment he delayed increased the chances of Effie doing something desperate, thinking she had been abandoned. But Gabriel was asking him about the message from Colonel Kerford.
‘Yes, said Ernest. I have your orders. They are to proceed with the plan, to cut across – have you a map?’
‘I have, but you can bet it’s out of date by now. I’ve sent out recce groups over the ridge and not heard a thing back. I’ve had no telephone contact for days.’
Ernest thought of the remains of the signaller, slumped over the blasted remains of his exchange box, and wondered if Gabriel was aware of his fate. He smoothed the map out, and outlined the General’s plan to use the cavalry as a diversion on the flank, pinning down the infantry men and rushing the position before the heaviest guns could be wheeled round to bear down on them.
Gabriel’s cheek twitched. ‘Are you sure this is what the old man said?’
‘Yes. I argued against it, gave him all the intel I could about the situation on the ground…’
‘And I suppose he said in God we trust.’
‘He said he was sure that you would follow orders and act courageously.’
‘Or die in the attempt. Sorry, or should that be ‘and’ die in the attempt?’ said Gabriel, smoothing out the map. ‘God, Ernest. I love my Father, and I respect his achievements as a military man, but this. This is madness. This is suicide. We have no fresh horses, barely enough working weapons. Meanwhile, they have machine guns. They have tanks… How can I ask my men to ride down into that hell…’ Gabriel turned away to hide his emotions.
‘And what about the others?’ asked Ernest. ‘The infantry, the men in the trenches waiting for your regiments to charge down and seize the moment, so that they can push through the line. Without you, they’re not going to be able to do that. They’re waiting for your horses, for your skills, to get them the space to break through the line.’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘There is no line. There’s nothing like a line out here. There might be on this pristine white map, but out there – Ernest you and I know that out there is just a muddy field full of dead men. Some of them are still firing rifles, but they’re all bloody dead.’  Gabriel could restrain his feelings no longer and broke down, sobbing. Ernest put his arms around him, patting him awkwardly at first, then holding him tight against his shoulder as if Gabriel were a boy once again. Ernest was shaken to see Gabriel so broken, having for so long measured his behaviour against Gabriel’s poise and experience. Gabriel shook his shoulders to free himself from Ernest’s comforting embrace, and Ernest stepped away, out of the tent, to allow Gabriel a moment to compose himself.  He walked over to the patch of buttercups, and kicked them with his boot. He looked up at the sunlight pushing its way between the surviving leaves on the trees. Here in the glade there were few signs of battle, and even the noise of the bombardment was muffled. Ernest moved a few paces outside the glade, into the green darkness, and suddenly he was face on to the sickening smell of rotting horseflesh, and the acrid tang of burning trees.  He looked back once more at the buttercups, holding the sun inside them, and knew that what he had to do was very different from his planned actions. The will to bring Gabriel down with the knowledge of his parentage seemed a small action, more irrelevant than the buttercups.  The only bond between them that had any weight was the one that they had forged in friendship, ignoring the differences between them and seeing only the qualities that drew them to each other.  Ernest took one last look up at the sunlight, and walked decisively back to Gabriel.
‘Gabriel, let me go in your place.’ Said Ernest.
Gabriel blinked at him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’ll lead the charge. We look alike, even now. We sound alike. When I’m in your coat and hat, in the heat of the moment, who will know? Or who will care?’
Gabriel turned round on the spot. ‘I can’t allow it. I cannot permit you to do that. Or for me to run away from my duty. Besides, it would never work. But Ernest, why? Why on earth would you make such an offer?’
‘I met my Father for the first time before I went to war. He is in prison. He is insane, of course, but he’s also lucid, coherent and very intelligent. He told me a new and different story of my life. I have nothing to go back for, nothing to live for. But you…’
‘So you know who he is – you know his name?’
‘I do, but it doesn’t concern us now. We have to get this worked out quickly. We have so little time. I need you to fetch your equipment, and introduce me to your horse. If I can’t control him, I’ll have no chance. I know I can’t ride like you, but I’ve had enough practice to stay upright at least. If anyone questions it I can plead a wound. All you have to do is make your way back to the Colonel, back to your Father.’
‘Ernest. You’ll do this?  For me? For Effie and me?’
‘I’d do it for you. And for myself. There’s a lot that I need to put right, before we go home. Come on, Gabriel, let me redeem myself.’
‘You have nothing that requires redemption.’
‘Have you forgotten Kew Gardens?’
‘You would not have been there, facing that duel, if it weren’t for me, and my stupidity. I was just a hot headed youth but you – you were preternaturally calm. My whole life would have been ruined, if I had not listened to you.’
Ernest shook his head. ‘Gabriel, listen to me. Get out of here, go home, and live your life. That is all I need to know, that you will do this.’
‘I don’t know. It feels like desertion.’
‘We are one, Gabriel. In more ways than you can know. So I will feel that you are riding alongside me, I promise.’
The two men shook hands then, concentrating on the moment between them, and for a second they were unaware of the change in the light above them, and the dark, deep noise that was suddenly filling their ears, as a shell careened down towards them, setting the trees on fire behind it. Ernest looked up first, and threw himself down on top of Gabriel, shielding him from the worst of the blast as the earth became rain and everything turned black. Burning branches and leaves fell on top of them as they lay there, not knowing if they were alive or dead.

It must be evening. The light is fading from the hillside. The fox is jogging back to the lair. This time, she has evaded the hunters, but I cannot do so. The hounds of Heaven have caught my trail and will be at my throat in minutes. Even if I hide in the heart of the city I cannot hold them off from me. I do not care enough. I have seen them rip my brother to pieces, his own pack standing at bay around him.  The night is close and warm with the scent of blood, running over the cobbles and congealing in the gutters.  My brother, my sons, all are lost to me, their pulses are no longer running through my veins and I cannot reach them.  Through my closed open eyes I can see the stars where the ceiling of my cell once was. Can she see me from her place in Heaven? Will she care that I finally see her for the angel she so truly is. Tell her so. Ernest, tell her that I was wrong, that I looked for angels in the worst of men, and did not see them in the best of women.