Captain Liversage’s tone was glacial as he asked this question, his eyes cold as a Highland winter morn.
‘I’ll not be interfering wiff’ Private Gisborne’s duties, nor will I be ‘arassing the lad, sir.’
It seemed as if Fray was on the verge of choking on the words that were dribbling out of his mouth.
Icicles, meanwhile, glistened in Captain Liversage’s smile.
‘You can be on your way now, Sergeant,’ he said coolly. ‘Remember this little conversation though, my good man. Remember it well.’
‘I will sir,’ Fray muttered, his voice so faint that it was almost inaudible.
‘Good. Off you go, old boy!’
Fray saluted and marched off in a steaming huff, and Captain Liversage trotted his horse over to William.
‘Such a disagreeable chap, Sergeant Fray is,’ Liversage remarked. ‘I know he’s wont to give you in particular a hard time, is he not? I’ve seen him single you out, and I’ve noticed him doing so on many occasions.’
‘He doesnae care much for me, sir.’
‘Well, he’s a blustery fool, is what he is,’ Liversage scoffed. ‘Tough as old nails, yes, which is what a good sergeant should be, but I do think that he could be a bit more of an agreeable chap. I heard him berating you just the other day on the topic of writing poetry. How absurd! The fool wouldn’t know art if it came galloping over him with steel-shod hooves. There’s nothing in the military code to say a common soldier cannot be a lover of art, music and literature. Indeed, I dare say I wish more of our lads were lovers of such things. You’ll have to let me read some of your compositions at some stage, Private Gisborne. I am a great lover of poetry, literature and plays myself, and I encourage you to keep writing, my boy. Especially if you’ve got talent. Forget whatever nonsense that philistine Fray has been feeding you. And worry not, my boy, if he gives you any more trouble, I’ll sort him out. From now on, as my batman you report directly to me, and you take orders only from me, with the only exception being when an order comes directly from one of my superiors. Do you understand?’
William, glowing with vicarious glee after having seen his tormentor embarrassed, nodded.
‘Aye sir, thank you sir. I’ll dae me’ best tae serve you in whatever tasks you require ay me, sir.’
‘Excellent. Well, here are my first orders to you: after you’ve put your things in my tent, my horse, Benjamin – this lovely mount upon whom I am seated – will need to be brushed down and reshod. I consulted your records and saw that you were a stable hand before you joined the 17th, so am I correct in assuming that these tasks will present you with no significant difficulties?’
‘Aye Captain, takin’ care ay your horse willnae present me wi’ any trouble, sir!’
‘Good. Go and sort yourself out, and then take care of my dear Benjamin. You can brush down and reshoe your own mount while you’re at it.’
‘River King, sir. Tha’s his name, sir.’
Captain Liversage smiled.
‘River King, is it? What an unusual moniker. It suits him though, I dare say. He was quite the unruly beast when the regiment first acquired him, but you seem to have done an excellent job in calming his fiery temperament.’
‘He was just … misunderstood, sir,’ William said.
‘Aren’t we all, lad, aren’t we all!’
Captain Liversage laughed heartily at his own observation, and at once William observed a sprightly and almost childlike glee sparkling in the elderly officer’s eyes. His craggy countenance took on a far more kindly and amiable air than it had a few moments before when he had been chastising Sergeant Fray.
‘Well come on Gisborne, off with you then.’
William saluted.
‘As you command, sir! It’ll be the best brushing an’ shoeing Benjamin’s e’er had sir, I personally guarantee it!’
***
‘Benjamin seems to like you, Private Gisborne,’ Captain Liversage remarked as he walked up to William, who had just finished with Benjamin.
‘He’s a fine beast, sir.’
‘And somewhat temperamental, I must add. He wasn’t too fond of my last batman, poor Lieutenant Bowker, God rest his soul. He gave Bowker a dreadful bite on the hand once.’
‘I’ve ne’er met an animal I dunnae like, sir,’ William declared. ‘Nor one that doesnae like me.’
‘You have a way with animals then, Gisborne?’
‘I always ha’ sir, since I was a wee bairn. In the cellar I lived in when I was a flue faker, I tamed some ay the mice tha’ lived there an’ kept ‘em as pets.’
‘You were a chimney sweep as a child?’
‘I was, sir. M’self an’ me friends who joined the 17th wi’ me: Privates Paul an’ Andrew Moore, an’ Private Michael Bishop, sir.’
Captain Liversage seemed somewhat taken aback at this.
‘Really! It is quite astounding that you lot made it to adulthood. I have heard that the lifespan of most chimney sweeps does not extend beyond their teens.’
William nodded and sighed wistfully.
‘Aye sir, that’s the sad truth ay the matter. Had me friends an’ I no’ been rescued by a kindly lady, the wife ay a magistrate, we’d surely all be dead by now, if no’ from an accident in a flue, then by the sooty cancer tha’ gets in your lungs.’
‘A sad end that would have been,’ Captain Liversage mused, idly fingering the hilt of his sabre. ‘Tell me lad, what made you join up here? Why have you chosen the life of a cavalryman in Her Majesty’s service?’
William wasn’t sure why, but an instinctive feeling quietly assured him that he could trust Captain Liversage. He breathed in deeply to compose himself, and then spoke.
‘Well sir, tae be perfectly honest, I joined up because ay a girl.’
A warm smile brightened Liversage’s visage, and he folded his arms across his chest.
‘Well, you truly are a poet in both word and deed then, Private Gisborne,’ he remarked. ‘You wanted to impress this girl by joining the cavalry?’
‘Well, yes sir, but wi’ a specific
