Bedford Square - Anne Perry [94]
“Which was Balantyne?”
“Trust ’im.” The reply was unhesitating. “ ’e knew ’is job. Never sent men ter do summink as ’e couldn’t do ’isself. Some men leads from the back … not ’im.” He moved over and sat on the barrel top, settling to reminisce, squinting a little in the sun but ignoring its heat. “I ’member once when we was up on the Northwest Frontier …” There was a faraway look in his eyes. “Yer’d ’ave ter see them mountains ter believe ’em, yer would. Great shining white peaks ’anging over us in the sky, they was. Reckon as they was scrapin” oles in the floor of ’eaven.”
He took a deep breath. “Anyway, Major Balantyne was told by the Colonel ter take a couple o’ score of us an’ go up the pass an’ come down be’ind the Pathans. ’e were kind o’ new at the Northwest. Didn’t reckon much ter the Pathans … Major Balantyne tried ter put ’im right. Told ’im they was some o’ the best soldiers in the world. Clever, tough, an’ din’t run away from nuffink on God’s earth.” He shook his head and sighed wearily. “But the Colonel, ’e wouldn’t listen. One o’ them daft bleeders wot won’t be told nuffink.” He looked at Tellman for a moment to make sure that he was following the story.
“And …” Tellman prompted, shifting his feet uncomfortably. He could feel the sweat trickling down his body.
“So the Major stood ter attention,” Treadwell resumed. “ ‘Yes sir,’ ‘No sir,’ an’ took ’is orders. Then as soon as we was well out o’ sight o’ the post, ’e said in a loud voice as ’is compass was broke, an’ gave orders to go about-face, an’ followed ’is plan ter come at the Pathans from two sides at once, an’ instead o’ standin’ our ground, ter keep movin’… just a couple o’ rounds o’ shot, an’ then, while they was still workin’ out which way we was comin’, we was gone again.” He looked at Tellman narrowly.
“Did you win?” Tellman was caught up in spite of himself.
“ ’Course we did,” Treadwell said with a grin. “An’ the Colonel took the credit for it. Was as mad as all ’ell, but couldn’t do nuffink abaht it. Stood an’ listened ter them say wot an ’ell of a clever feller ’e was, an’ thanked them fer it. ’Ad ter, didn’t’e?”
“But it was the Major’s idea!” Tellman protested. “Didn’t he tell them, whoever was in charge?”
Treadwell shook his head. “Yer never bin army, ’ave yer?” There was pity in his tone, and a certain kind of protective-ness, as of the world’s innocents. “Yer don’ show up one o’ yer own, even if ’e looks for it. Loyalty. The Major’d never a’ done that. One o’ the old sort, ’e were. Take wot comes ter ’im an’ never complain. I seen ’im so wore out ’e were near droppin’ ter the ground, but ’e jus’ kep’ goin’. Wouldn’t let the men down, yer see? That’s wot bein’ an officer is abaht, them wot’s any good. Yer always gotta be that bit better’n others, or ’ow could they foller yer?”
There was a bellow of laughter from the open door of the public tearoom.
Tellman frowned. “Did you like him?” he asked.
To Treadwell it was an incomprehensible question.
“Wot d’yer mean … ‘like ’im’? ’e were the Major. Yer don’ ‘like’ officers. Yer either love ’em or ’ate ’em. Yer like’ friends, fellers wot yer marches beside, not them as yer follers.”
Tellman knew the answer before he asked; still, he needed to hear it in words.
“Did you love or hate the Major?”
Treadwell shook his head. “If I din’t see yer face, I’d reckon you was simple! In’t I just bin tellin’ yer, ’e were one o’the best?”
Tellman was confused. He could not disbelieve Treadwell; the light in his eyes was too clear, and the amusement at an outsider’s failure to grasp what was so plain to him.
Tellman thanked him and took his leave. What had happened to Balantyne in the intervening years which had made him the stiff and solitary man he was now? Why was Treadwell’s view of him so … unrecognizable?
The next soldier he found was one William Sturton, another ordinary man, who had risen through long service to the rank of sergeant and was immensely proud of it. He was stiff with rheumatism now, and his white hair and whiskers shone in