Chapter 4.
Winterhaiming, Lee, Cloud and Sir Rupert got in one carriage, while the ladies, Clarence and Haddington got into a second carriage.
Haddington was just about to climb in when he glanced over his shoulder and saw little Miss Blackie settling herself down near one of the columns at the front door.
“Gilmore, allow our guest the complete run of the house.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And see that she’s given anything she wants.”
“Yes, sir.”
Haddington stood for a second with one foot on the step of the carriage as he watched the cat, Miss Blackie was watching the first carriage clattering away when a butterfly flew past her nose and her head swung quickly to watch it’s every movement.
It was a pleasant drive through an almost deserted countryside, through a quite village and up to the imposing church, the bells of which were ringing out cheerfully. They all alighted from the carriages and made their way up the stone steps.
He saw them with a start and spoke urgently to an assistant: “That stand there, clear it out of the way, in fact, take it right out of the lobby.”
“Why, Bill?”
“Lord ruddy Clumsy’s comin’!”
“Lord help us.”
“I’ll get this chair out of the way.”
“Is Sir Repetitious with him?”
The verger took a quick look out the door. “He is, he is.”
They cleared every loose object away just in time.
“Good morning, Mr Wilson.”
“Good morning, Your Lordship.”
“Is the vicar in good voice?”
“He certainly is.”
“A good sermon, Wilson, that’s what we want, a good sermon, will your vicar give us that, eh?”
“I’m certain he will, Sir Rupert.”
“Our pew, Wilson.”
“This way, please.” Said Wilson leading the way.
“Come along, Two-Refs,” said Haddington who was standing beside Clarence, the old man flung out his hand to show the way to Lee, who had been looking at an old painting of the church, without noticing Haddington’s sleeve got caught on a mahogany notice board.
“After you, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence as Lee and then Haddington, who had forcibly removed his sleeve, went into the main door of the church. The notice board poised precariously on the edge of the two wooden pegs holding it up, and then with a soft sigh of wood, fell forward.
Wilson led them down the aisle past crowded pews on each side.
“Gee, Two-Refs,” whispered Cloud pointing to the private pews of the Haddington family with a tiny door on either end, “just like Boston, ain’t it?”
“Shh!” Said Wilson.
“Where the devil is Clarence?” Said Haddington as he and Lee stood at the small door held open by Wilson.
“Shh!” Said Wilson.
“What?” Spluttered Haddington.
“I’m sorry, Your Lordship, I was speaking to him.” He pointed to Cloud.
“Gee, it really is like Boston.”
“Shh!”
“Come along, Two-Refs, Clarence has probably fallen asleep somewhere.” Haddington and Lee went back to look for Clarence.
“Shh!”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Shh!”
“I say, Wilson,” Sir Rupert was squeezing his way out of the pew, “I say, old man.”
“Satisfied,” said a glum Wilson, “you’ve started him now.”
“Shh!” Parodied Cloud.
“Something amiss here? Well, old man, amiss, is there?”
“No, Sir Rupert, I was simply warning this gentleman about noise….”
“He’s right, Smoke, noise, a bad thing, in a church a very bad thing, noise, bad, very….very……”
“Noisy?” Asked Cloud.
“Precisely, precisely.”
“I told him that, Sir Rupert, I told him that.”
“Quite right, quite right.”
“You didn’t tell me anything, you didn’t tell me anything.”
“I did, I did.”
“Apart from shh, I heard nothing from you, pal, not a thing.”
“That means silence, are you ignorant or what?” Wilson was now raising his voice.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” Said Haddington coming down the aisle supporting Clarence on one side with Lee on the other.
“Here, Wilson, old man, no need to be surly, no need at all.” Said Sir Rupert.
“Shh!”
“What?”
“Gentlemen,” Haddington indicated Lee should take the groggy Clarence into the pew. “Gentlemen. Mr Wilson, you should know what noise means in this particular church with this particular vicar.”
“Yes, Your Lordship.”
“Do you want him to stick his head from around some door and call for silence?”
“Heaven forbid, Your Lordship.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would if it could.”
“This gentleman here……” He indicated Cloud.
“It’s alright, Mr Wilson, he’s a stranger, I’ll vouch for him.”
“Very well, Your Lordship.”
“Oh, dear, Clemmie,” said a worried Rupert, “he won’t will he, he won’t call for silence, he won’t will he?”
“He won’t if you keep quiet.”
“All I said was…..” Began Cloud.
“Shh!” Ordered a worried Sir Rupert who quickly returned to his pew. Haddington joined him, Cloud stood with his eyebrows raised in surprise, he looked at Wilson standing with the door open and was about to say something.
“Shh!” Said Wilson.
“Sounds just like a snake convention.” Muttered Cloud as he took a seat.
“Shh!” Said Wilson as he closed the door, it sprang back open.
“The lock’s defective.” Said Haddington quickly and reached across to slam it shut. Wilson bowed in thanks and tried to step away, he realised his coat was caught. He tapped Cloud on the shoulder and was about to speak.
“Shh!” Said Cloud who could see what had happened and sat with an innocent face and his eyes to the ceiling.
Wilson stood there desperately trying to free his coat and working at the lock of the door. There was a rush of noise as everyone got to their feet at the entrance of the vicar in his vestments and the service got under way. A barely audible voice came from the slight figure at the altar.
All through the service Cloud was amused to hear the sounds of Wilson as he struggled with his coat and the lock of the door.
Finally the congregation sat down as the vicar made his way to the pulpit to begin his sermon. His eyes were narrow slits with deep crow’s feet at each corner and he wore a thick black beard. As he stood firmly at the pulpit, he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and filled his lungs to capacity.
Cloud folded his arms on his chest and closed his eyes. ‘Now I can catch up on a little sleep, that is if this joker will be quiet.’ He thought as he heard Wilson apparently getting very desperate.
“WOE TO THEY WHO STAND IN THE WAY……!” There was a sudden tearing of material at Cloud’s elbow. But he didn’t hear it, he was deafened by the glare of sound that came from the vicar. “WOE TO THEY, I SAY!”
Cloud leaned over to Haddington.
“Did you say he was in the navy?”
“That’s right.”
“As what, a foghorn?”
“THOSE WICKED WHISPERERS AND SLANDERERS,” and as he spoke he was looking directly at Cloud, “WHO CONSPIRE AGAINST HIM.” Cloud glanced to his left to see no sign of Wilson, just a small piece of material stuck in the door.
“Must have blown him away.” He thought.
“HIS MESSAGE IS CLEAR; IT IS A CALL TO EACH MAN TO COMTEMPLATE HIS SOUL IN THE SILENCE OF HIS MIND.” Roared the vicar.
‘So that’s where the expression ‘to raise the roof’ comes from.’ Thought Lee with his ears ringing. With a start of surprise he caught sight of Sir Rupert out o
f the corner of his eye. His head was on his chest and he was sound asleep.
After the service they all made their way back to the house for a hearty lunch, as usual Cloud kept everyone amused with his stories.
Soon after lunch Haddington apologised to the ladies that he would have to leave them in the capable hands of Sir Rupert.
“How jolly,” smiled Sir Rupert, “I will be able to tell dear Lady Marlebone of my operation last year, a wonderful doctor he was, and a marvellous operation, yes, last year that was.”
“That will be nice, Sir Rupert.” She said with a forced smile.
“Where are you going to, Your Lordship?” Asked Winterhaiming.
“A work of charity, every so often I visit the poor in the area, I distribute a little money and some good cheer.”
“How tiresome.”
“It’s one of the obligations of the estate.” Said Haddington.
“The idea is demeaning, Your Lordship, hardly the task of a man in such a high position as yourself.”
“I had intended to invite you along, Winterhaiming.”
“I’m very grateful to you, Your Lordship, but I must refuse, I have the beginnings of a wretched cold, I should hate to spread it among any poor unfortunates.” He put a handkerchief to his nose.
“I really think you should accept the invitation.” Suggested Clarence.
“Don’t force the fellow, Clarence, I’m sure he knows his own mind.” He glanced over at Sir Rupert who was already giving Lady Marlebone the first details of his operation. “Rather a just fate, in a way.” He mumbled.
“Winterhaiming…..”
“No, no, my dear fellow, the very thought of it is too, too tiresome.”
“We’ll need a fourth for bridge.” Said Sir Rupert.
“Your Lordship,” said Cynthia getting to her feet, “I should like to come.”
“Cynthia, the very idea.” Gasped her shocked mother.
“That’s impossible, my dear, believe me.” Haddington walked over to put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “We will be meeting the most degenerate, the most depraved of people.”
“Oh, Your Lordship.” Lady Marlebone threatened to faint but was comforted by Sir Rupert with more gory details of his operation.
“Say.” Smiled Cloud, “I hope me and Two-Refs can tag along.”
“Absolutely.” Said Haddington firmly.
“That’s swell, ain’t it, Two-Refs?” Lee who was watching Cynthia just nodded.
“Nonetheless, Your Lordship, I still believe I should be permitted to come too.” Cynthia was very determined.
“Cynthia, what a perfectly horrid idea.” Her mother was going back into shock again, Sir Rupert had repeated his details so much they were beginning to lose their effect.
“No, my dear that’s utterly impossible, do you think I could bear to think of these pretty little hands in such surroundings. I must do it because it’s my duty.”
“A duty nobly carried out.” Said Clarence.
“Do be quiet, Clarence, you know how I detest praise.”
“Of course, Your Lordship.” He bowed slightly.
“I expect you to care for my Miss Blackie, my dear.”
“I’m deeply hurt, Your Lordship, that you seem to think me incapable of anything but caring for some cat.”
“Not at all,” he walked over to the door, “for one thing, my dear, Miss Blackie is certainly not just some cat, for another, I believe your task here will be far more taxing.”
She glanced over at Sir Rupert busily telling details of his operation while Lady Marlebone fanned herself vigorously, Sir Rupert would turn to describe how ill he had been to a bored Winterhaiming who said nothing more than, “How tiresome.”
“I shall make you a promise, my dear,” said Haddington from the door, “one day you shall come on one of these pitiful errands.”
“But not today?”
“No, not today. Gilmore, my coat.”
“Oh,” she stamped one of her feet with anger.
“You sure got some backbone, lady.” Said Lee.
“Oh, leave me alone.” She stormed across the room to sit beside Winterhaiming.
“Come on, Two-Refs.” Cloud grabbed his arm to lead him from the room.
“It was meant as a compliment, Smoke.”
“Dames.” Said Cloud in explanation.
“That was a mistake, Winterhaiming.” Said Clarence.
“I hardly think so, my dear fellow.”
“Lord Haddington thinks every man should take his duties seriously, even duties that may lie in the future.”
“I find the very idea most tiresome.”
“It could be a tiresome idea that Lord Haddington might think important.”
“Very well, Clarence, it’s a very important idea, but it is tiresome nonetheless.”
“Mr Clarence,” asked Cynthia, “what on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m sure that poor Mr Clarence has no idea himself what he’s talking about.”
“Well, we’ll see, Mr Winterhaiming.” Clarence strode from the room in a disgruntled mood.
“…..the cut was in this fashion, you see, the cut, beautifully done, this cut, beautifully done……”
Haddington was stroking a purring Miss Blackie held in the arms of a blank-faced Gilmore.
“…..she’s to have milk, all the milk she wants, and the softest pillow, I want you to ensure that it’s the softest in the house, Gilmore.”
“I shall test it myself, Your Lordship.”
“Good, good. Come along, Clarence, we’ve been waiting for you.”
“Yes, Your Lordship.”
Haddington led the way down the steps to the carriage in which Cloud and Lee were waiting.
“Have you got it with you?” Asked Haddington.
“I have it here, Your Lordship.” Clarence patted one of his pockets. The door was closed and the servant stepped back. Haddington leaned out of the window to wave at Miss Blackie, who was watching some birds intently in the opposite direction.
“She’s a beautiful little creature.” Sighed the old man as he settled back in his seat.
He burped loudly and stood under a tree smiling to himself. It had been a delicious lunch and he patted his stomach. Now, he was off to find a nice quiet place to have a rest. That wife of George’s was a wonderful cook but a nag, a horrible nag.
Dickie left the village behind him to climb a small slope, past a few trees and down the other side, there was a narrow road at the foot of the slope and a small, long wall of rocks on the other side. He passed an old cart on the slope, crossed the road and with an effort climbed the wall, he sat down on the other side and took a piece of cake wrapped in his handkerchief from one pocket and a bottle of beer from the other.
He was sound asleep when Haddington’s carriage drew up.
“Stop here, Rogers.” The carriage halted. “Pardon me for one moment gentlemen.” He climbed out with Clarence, and they both went up to the old cart. “Have you got it?”
“Here, Your Lordship.” Clarence handed him a false beard and helped him put it on.
“How does it look?”
“Perfect.” Clarence looked back up the slope with narrowed eyes.
“What is it?”
“I thought I saw someone up there.”
“Where?” Haddington panicked as he jumped back to land on one of Clarence’s feet, the solicitor fell to the ground and dislodged a rock holding the cart, it rolled back slowly, picked up speed, to cross the road missing the carriage by inches and went ploughing into the wall. “Do stop getting in people’s way, Clarence.” Said a worried Haddington as he sped back to his carriage.
“It’s a weakness of mine.”
“I know that.”
Cloud and Lee exchanged glances as a hairy-faced Haddington climbed in to grin at them.
“I do hope you’ll pardon the disguise,” said Haddington, “but we are on our way to certain diversions that are frowned on by the go
od folk of the district, and besides which because so many of the poorer folk look up to me, I would not want to be recognised and have their faith in me shattered.”
“No.” Smiled Cloud uncertainly.
“Do you like my disguise, do you think I’ll be recognised?”
“It’s quite a good disguise.” Lied Lee.
“No-one would recognise you in a thousand years.” Lied Cloud.
“Let’s be off, Rogers.” The carriage clattered off.
He sat calmly on the wall, smoking his pipe watching the constable coming down the road on his bicycle.
“Hello, Bert.” He said as he drew up and propped his bike against the wall.
“Constable.”
“Your son said you had some trouble.”
“Fellow wrecked me cart, tore down some of me wall.”
“Do you know who he was?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll start checking around, I expect we’ll get him.”
“No need.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Fellow’s still here.”
“Where?”
Bert got off the wall to point down to the pile of rubble from his wall.
“Under that.”
“How do you know?” The constable hopped the wall.
“Been groaning on and off since I sent Tommy off to get you.”
“Give us a hand, he might be hurt.”
“No, he’s not hurt.” They began to shift some of the debris.
“How do you know?”
“Been laughing to himself.”
“Laughing?”
“Yes, I got a good idea why.”
“How do you mean?”
“Found this.” He handed a bottle to the policeman who took a whiff at the top.
“I see what you mean.”
“Way I see it, he must have thought it would be a lark to have a ride in my cart, came down here, hit my wall, fell out and the lot fell on him.”
“He certainly made a mess of your cart, Bert.”
“It’s been up there for years untouched. Older than me it was.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make him pay for it. Come along sir.” They helped Dickie to his feet, he brushed the dust and dirt off his clothes and turned to go.
“Thanks a lot, fellows.”
“Hey!” Snapped the policeman.
“Yes?” Dickie stood with one leg half raised to climb the wall.
“What about an explanation?”
“No, that’s alright, no explanation is necessary.”
“Hey!”
“Yes, constable what is it?”
“What about payment for the damages.”
“You can send it to me.” The foot was half raised again.
“Hey!”
“You’re not this Rupert Repetitious I keep hearing about are you?”
“Stop acting stupid.” Said the constable.
“I don’t think he’s acting.” Said Bert.
“Thank you, sir,” he raised his foot again and hesitated. “I think.”
“Do you realise the damage you’ve done here?” Dickie was half over the wall and fell the rest of the way over in surprise.
“I’ve done?” He said from the ground. “I was sitting here minding my own business and that cart attacked me.”
“Just took it into its head, did it, to come rolling down the hill?”
“Of course not, it…..it, Lord Clumsy, that’s what it was, I was a victim of Lord Clumsy, the man hates me.”
“Lord Clumsy?”
“Never,” said Bert, “he never comes down this road.”
“Of course he doesn’t.”
“But he was here today, I can prove it.”
“How?” Asked the policeman and Dickie pointed in silence to the wreckage. “You’ll have to think of something better than that to tell the magistrate.” Dickie was grabbed by the collar.
“Magistrate?”
“You’ll need this.” Bert handed the bottle to the policeman who put it in his pocket.
“Thanks, Bert.” He grabbed his bike with the other hand. “Come along, sir.”
“When do I see the magistrate?”
“Tomorrow.”
“He’ll believe me, this Lord Clumsy character is a menace, you let me at that magistrate.”
“It’ll have to be a good story.”
“Why?”
“The magistrate is a distant relative of his Lordship.”
“Lovely.”
“Hanging Judge Thomas they call him.” Smiled the policeman.
“What are you trying to do,” gasped Dickie as he struggled with his collar, “do him out of a job?”
The carriage drew up at the side of the road after quite a long trip.
“This is it chaps.” Smiled Haddington as he stepped out while a footman stood holding the door open. Lee, Cloud and Clarence followed him. They stood on a road with the high slope of a mountain on one side and a drop on the other. There was a long row of carriages drawn up ahead of them with footmen and drivers standing about or just having a quiet conversation.
Haddington led them to the edge of the road and Lee stood in awe, a long flight of twisting stone steps led down to the valley floor below, but he could see a large crowd of people milling around and in the centre of this dense crowd, an empty roped-off square ring.
“Lord Haddington?” He asked as they all descended followed by a footman carrying two baskets.
“Yes, my boy?”
“Does this charity work of yours involve boxing?” Asked Lee.
“In a way.” He smiled.
“It looks like being an interesting afternoon.”
“It looks like being a very interesting afternoon, Two-Refs.” Said Cloud.
“I have reason to believe it will be.” Said Haddington.
They made their way through the noisy, sweating crowd to an outcrop of rocks already occupied by members of the elite of the district, their station so obvious by their fine clothes.
In all the crush of bodies, Lee could not see one female.
Haddington sat himself on a large rock where he could see over the heads of the crowd. He removed his beard to mop his face with a handkerchief. Clarence, Lee and Cloud took their places around him on other rocks.
The footman took a bottle of Champaign from one basket and took a glass out of the other basket, he poured a glass and handed it to Haddington then he did the same for the other three.
Haddington lifted his beard to take a sip.
“I don’t know why Your Lordship bothers with the confounded thing.” Said Clarence.
“What if I were recognised? I must set an example to the district, I can’t have people saying I lower myself by taking part in such disgraceful goings-on. I hope you understand what I mean by that, Two-Refs, Smokey, old boy?” The two nodded and took a drink.
“People know who you are.”
“Nonsense.”
“Your Lordship,” a flashily dressed character came up to stand in front of Haddington with a toothy smile. Cloud recognised the type immediately.
“Billy, my boy, I hope you’ve got some good ones for me today.”
“Squinty Hannibal and Mountain Joel.”
“Dear me,” Haddington lifted his beard to scratch his face, “a difficult choice.”
“My thinking exactly, Your Lordship.”
“Who’s the favourite?”
“My leaning is to Old Mountain, his right is still unbeatable.”
“Is that the way the crowd is leaning?”
“That’s right, Your Lordship.”
“Five pounds on him, then.”
“Done. How about you, Mr Clarence?”
“No.”
“Don’t be such a wet blanket.” Said Haddington.
“Alright, alright,” he said testily, “a pound.”
“Quite the big spender is our Mr Clarence,” said Billy with a wink.
“I’m certain my two Amer
ican visitors would be very willing to join in. This is Mr Lee, and Mr Cloud.” Said Haddington.
“Yanks, hey, well, your money is as good as anyones.” He reached up to shake hands.
“This is Mr Billy Harrow.”
“Nice to meet you, chaps.” He raised his bowler.
“We’ve got Mr Harrows back home ain’t we, Two-Refs?” Lee nodded. “We place our bets with you, is that right?”
“Exactly.”
“You say this Mountain fella is the favourite?”
“You Yanks pick things up fast.” He smiled and Haddington chuckled.
“Here,” Cloud handed him a banknote, “ten pounds on Squinty, it’s alright, Two-Refs, there’s two pounds in there for you.”
“Look, friend, I hate to see you do your money.”
“You let me worry about that, pal.”
“Humour them, Billy.” Smiled Haddington.
“Seeing as they’re friends of yours, Your Lordship, I won’t say another word.”
“It looks like it’s about to start.” Said Clarence as Billy melted into the crowd. A small tubby man stepped into the middle of the ring to raise his hands for silence. A gong was sounded and the dense crowd fell into complete silence.
“Gentlemen,” a roar of approval went up from the crowd and the gong sounded again, “and distinguished visitors. I won’t waste your valuable time and mine by useless prattle,” again came a roar of approval, “I’ll just bring on the first two lads who have come here today to entertain you with an exhibition of good, clean English manliness.” He was drowned out by the crowd and held his hands up. “From Cardiff that giant of muscle and strength, Mr Squinty Hannibal!” A giant strode over from one corner to stand with his gloved hands held to the sky. The crowd roared and cheered. “And from London, our own scientific demonstrator of power and agility, Mr Mountain Joel!” When another giant stepped into the centre of the ring, the crowd went insane.
“I believe you’ve seen the last of those ten pounds, Smokey.” Shouted Haddington.
“We’ll see, Clem.”
A gong silenced the crowd and the two boxers went to their corners. A gong sounded and the two giants slowly came forward to face each other, they sparred a little until Joel pulled his right back and slammed it into the side of Hannibal’s head. The crowd roared as one giant fell to the ground. Joel stepped back to raise his hands above his head and smiled through the many gaps in his mouth.
The second giant was soon back on his feet shaking his head, again they stood facing each other until Hannibal caught Joel under the chin to bodily lift him in the air, he landed on his heels with a glazed look in his eyes, Hannibal floored him with a left to his chin.
Joel soon got to his feet spitting teeth and blood and pushed the referee aside to come rushing across the ring at his prepared opponent. The crowd went wild as the giants traded pounding punch after pounding punch while they stood toe to toe.
It was impossible to hear yourself think as the crowd roared its approval as neither giant gave way under the relentless pounding.
Finally Joel used his left with a devastating result as he sent Hannibal across the ring to bounce off the ropes and fall to the ground. Joel strutted around the ring with his hands held clasped above his head, oblivious to the blood pouring from one corner of his mouth, both his nostrils and his right ear, while the referee counted over his opponent.
Hannibal managed to stagger to his feet and stood swaying, Joel gave an animal snarl and hurled himself across the ring. He landed a punch to the head.
“Again!” Roared Haddington on his feet.
A second punch.
“Go on, lad!” Roared Haddington swinging his arms, one of which came into contact with Clarence who was also on his feet, with a thud he fell to the ground to look up at Haddington with a disgruntled face. Then someone stepped on his hand, but his howl was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as Hannibal suddenly came to life to plough two punches into Joel’s stomach.
The giant stood in stunned surprise holding his stomach and Hannibal took the opportunity to land two crushing blows in succession to his face. He was grinning stupidly as he fell to the ground like a felled tree.
The crowd roared its approval until the mountains around them seemed to be moving from the noise.
“He won’t be getting up again.” Roared Cloud to Haddington.
“You’ll see, you’ll see.” Haddington was jumping up and down on the rock.
Hannibal was leaning drunkenly against the ropes, his face covered in blood, his mouth wide open as his heaving chest pumped air into his lungs.
With a roar from the crowd Joel staggered to his feet, both were squaring up for another pounding session when the gong sounded. The two giants staggered back to their corners.
The footman helped Clarence back to the rock and began to refill the glasses.
“You get far too excited, Clarence.” Said Haddington.
“It’s something I’ve got to curb.” He replied flatly.
“You certainly have.”
“MAYBE NEXT ROUND WE’LL SEE SOME TRUE BOXING.” Roared a familiar voice above the murmur of the crowd. “IF ALL THEY DO IS EXCHANGE LITTLE PATS WE’LL BE HERE ALL DAY.” He roared.
Lee and Cloud glanced down to their left. They saw a small, beared figure as the crowd around him made a wide circle as they tried to escape the noise.
“Is that?” Asked Lee.
“You wouldn’t recognise him in that beard, would you? He must be giving his church a rest.”
They were draining their glasses as the gong sounded the end of the minute rest.
“COME ON, BOYS, DON’T SHAME US.” Roared the voice.
As the two giants came face to face, did Mountain Joel scowl in the direction of the speaker?
They stood toe to toe and slugged away at each other spattering those roaring spectators too close with blood and sweat, until with a roar of rage Joel swung that vicious right, Lee felt the connection through the ground as far back as he was and Hannibal dropped to the ground.
He was soon on his feet and the two were ploughing into each other once again. They were both up and down, taking it in turns to land pile-drivers, the rounds came and went, the gong sounded over and over to signal them back into combat.
Lee lost all idea of time and all idea of the numbers of the rounds. As the two weary, blood-smeared giants staggered into the centre of the ring he asked Cloud what round it was.
“Fifteen, I think.” He said as he imitated a right uppercut in the air.
“No, old boy, it’s only eleven.” Said Haddington.
“Actually, it’s the twenty-third.” Said Clarence.
“That’s impossible, you must be mistaken, Clarence.”
“No, Your Lordship.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“A chap holds up a board with a number on it to begin each round.”
“I didn’t see that.” Said Cloud.
“Naturally, you were all too busy filling your glasses to notice.”
“Stop being a wet blanket, Clarence, anyway I take no notice of their chalk numbers, I prefer to do my own counting, they’re prone to make mistakes.”
“They’re prone to make mistakes?” Asked Clarence.
“Yes, they are.”
“And Your Lordship thinks this is round eleven?”
“Yes.”
“Would Your Lordship care to place a wager on that?” Smiled Clarence, Haddington glanced over at him for a second of deep thought, he didn’t like that smug smile.
“Learn to curb that avarice, Clarence, there’s a good chap, apart from that and your damned clumsiness you’re an excellent fellow. No, I shall not do any such thing, I could not live with my conscience were I to take advantage of your foolishness.” A gong sounded and the round came to an end.
“How do they take such punishment?” Asked Lee.
“We English, Two-Refs, we English.” Smiled Haddington.
“I’ve hear
d that Squinty Hannibal is really French.”
“Oh, do stop telling lies, Clarence.”
“It’s true, Your Lordship.”
“A foreigner taking that beating and still being on his feet? Impossible?”
“Would Your Lordship care to place a wager on it?”
Haddington looked at him in silence for a second and saw that smug smile again. “I just don’t know what’s happening to you lately, Clarence,” he was shaking his head, “you’ve become utterly insufferable, you seem determined to empty your pockets of every penny to your name.”
“I’m quite willing to be humoured, Your Lordship.”
“I’ll not do it, Clarence, you’ll not drag me to your level, I deplore avarice, it’s a wretched thing. I wonder how much I’ll win today.” He mused half to himself.
“I think you’ve lost your five pounds, Clem.” Smiled Cloud.
“The fights not over yet, old boy.”
A gong sounded as a man stood in the centre of the ring holding a board with twenty four chalked on it, he turned in four directions and quickly disappeared.
“There you are, Clarence, you see, you would have lost your money had I been low enough to have taken your bet.”
“But…”
“No need to thank me, old chap, just regard it as an object lesson on the pitfalls of unbridled avarice.” He turned to Cloud. “As I said, Smokey, that last round was the twenty-third.”
“Yeah, Clem, I heard.”
The two giants came stumbling toward each other, it was obvious they were both near the end of their strength.
“HIT HIM, BLOCKHEAD, HIT HIM!” Roared that voice.
Hannibal pulled his fist back to land it with a jarring right to Joel’s head, a left slammed into his right cheek and he reeled back, the crowd roared as the scent of the kill reached their nostrils.
Both giants took a swing at each other and missed. Joel continued his swing to come into contact with a spectator at the rope. Despite his weariness the punch lifted the poor fellow into the air and sent him back into those around him.
Hannibal spun and came in contact with the ref who fell back heavily on his rump and sat shaking his head.
The giants approached each other drawing on their last ounces of strength. Hannibal sent a right crashing into Joel and stood gasping for air. Joel shook his head and smiled.
He snarled as he pulled his left back and sent it into Hannibal’s face, who stood with a glazed look as his arms dangled loosely. Joel pulled his right fist back.
“This is it!” Roared Haddington flailing his arms.
The crowd held its breath as the fist shot forward into Hannibal’s face, he stood staring into space surrounded by a deep silence and then fell forward onto the ground.
The crowd roared in triumphant hysteria.
While Joel stood back against the ropes shaking the blood and sweat from his blurred vision, the referee crawled over to the fallen form and began to count.
The crowd joined in and finished with him.
“…..eight, nine, ten.” There was a roar as hats were thrown into the air and everybody was slapping those next to them on the back and shaking hands.
“That Mountain,” shouted Haddington, “that Mountain, he’s unbeatable.” He was jumping up and down, “where’s Clarence?” He asked suddenly.
The footman was helping him to his feet and was brushing the dust from his clothes while Clarence was nursing both his hands, victims of the cheering, jumping crowd.
‘He does so get carried away.’ Thought Haddington to himself.
“Good afternoon, Your Lordship.” Said a small, bearded gentleman as he stood smiling up.
“You must be mistaken, my dear fellow.”
“My profoundest apologies, my dear sir, I thought you were someone else.”
“Not at all, vicar….I mean….”
“My name is Mr Priest.”
“Now that’s original.” Said Cloud.
“Pardon?”
“Just talking to myself, Mr…Mr…..”
“Priest.”
“Yeah, Mr Priest.”
“Did you back the Mountain, sir?” Asked Mr Priest.
“I did indeed, vicar….Mr….Mr Priest.”
“So did I, Your Lordship.”
“I’m Mr Lord.” Said Haddington.
“Of course, Mr Lord.” Mr Priest bowed.
“Good afternoon, vicar.” Said Clarence handing him a glass just filled by the footman.
“You’re mistaken, sir, I don’t know you, I’m Mr Priest.”
“How stupid of me, Mr Priest.” He bowed as he handed the glass over.
“Very kind of you, thank you, Mr Clarence.”
“You’re mistaken, sir, I am Mr Lawyer. This is Mr Rain and that is Mr Grant.” He indicated Cloud and Lee.
“Gentlemen,” he bowed slightly. “So, Mr Rain, you won your wager?”
“No, no,” said Clarence, “that is Mr Lord, the gentleman over there is Mr Rain.”
“And you are Mr Priest?” Asked the vicar.
“No, sir, you are Mr Priest.”
“Then why did you say you were Mr Lord?” He demanded angrily.
“I am Mr Lord, that is Mr Lawyer.” Said Haddington.
“Well, who is this chap going around calling himself Mr Priest?”
“You are Mr Priest.” Said Clarence.
“And you are Mr Rain?”
“No, no, that is Mr Rain.” Clarence pointed to Lee.
“No, I’m Mr Grant, this is Mr Rain.” He indicated Cloud.
“Who the devil is Mr Priest?”
“Vicar, you are Mr Priest.” Said Haddington.
“And you are Mr Lawyer.?”
“No, vicar, I’m Mr….” Haddington shook his head and looked over at Clarence angrily, “why in the name of God did you start this ridiculous business?” He took off his beard. “Vicar, I am Lord Haddington.”
“Lord Haddington!” His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open with surprise. “Dear me, dear me, this is a calamity.”
“It’s no such thing.” Said Clarence.
“And you are not Mr Lawyer?” He asked Clarence.
“Actually, I’m Mr Lord.”
“Clarence.” Warned Haddington.
“You mean to say this is Mr Clarence, private solicitor to His Lordship, Lord Haddington?”
“It is.” Smiled Clarence.
“Oh, dear me, dear me.” He stood wringing his hands and frowning in perplexity. A man in torment, a man of the cloth struggling in a deep quandary.
“How much did you win, vicar?” Asked Haddington.
“Quite a tidy sum, Your Lordship,” he smiled broadly as he put his thumbs into the arms of his vest, calm and relaxed in his victory, “quite a tidy sum.”
“Do you have any idea who the next opponents are?” Asked Haddington.
“Two novices, I believe, very new to the game.”
“Why don’t you join us, Mr….Mr…..”
“Mr Priest.” Said Clarence.
“Who is this confounded….” Began the vicar.
“You are Mr Priest.” Said Clarence.
“Yes, of course I am.” He joined Haddington on the rock, “touchy fellow, isn’t he?”
“A drink, vicar?” Haddington signalled the footman.
“I don’t mind if I do, thank you, Your Lordship.”
“No, no, gentlemen,” said Clarence, “you are Mr Priest and you are Mr Lord.”
“Clarence…..”
“I was merely trying to be helpful, Your Lordship.”
“Do try and curb that, Clarence.”
“A strange fellow, Your Lordship, a very strange fellow.” Haddington put a finger to his temple and turned it in a circle. “Oh, oh, I see.” The vicar’s eyes widened and his mouth formed an O.
They sat discussing the weather while the crowd moved about talking of the fight and settling bets. Haddington made a small joke and the vicar had a merry laugh, as he was laughing a shad
ow grew over them blotting out the sun. Haddington turned around and looked up, a spruce Joel stood with his hands on his hips.
“Mountain, old chap, you fought an excellent fight. You earned me some money.”
“Yeah, Your Lordship.” He scowled.
“You’ve never failed me yet.”
“Yeah.” The voice was gruff.
“These two gentlemen are from America, they’re in the fight game as well.”
“Yeah.” He was eyeing the vicar who was sipping his drink daintily.
“This is Mr Cloud and Mr Lee.”
“No, no, Your Lordship, Mr Rain and Mr Grant.”
“Clarence….”
“Yeah, how are ya?” He was still looking at the vicar as he reached across to crush Cloud’s hand. “I heard a laugh.”
“Yes, I dare say you did, old chap, quite a happy crowd here today.” Said Haddington.
“Every time I come to fight in this valley I hear a loud mouth tellin’ me how to fight, last time he reckoned I was blowin’ kisses, I been tryin’ to find that voice.”
“It ain’t me.” Gasped Cloud still having his hand crushed.
“No, I reckon it ain’t, mate, it weren’t no Yank voice. A toff’s voice it was.”
“Have you met Mr Priest?” Asked Clarence helpfully.
“Reckon I ain’t.” They all waited in silence as the giant leaned down menacingly to the vicar, who apparently had not heard as he sipped his drink. “How do ya do, Mr Priest?”
The vicar turned, smiled and held up a limp hand. “A fine broth of a lad, ya are.” He whispered with a soft Irish accent.
“What?” Asked Joel.
“What was that, Mr Priest?” Asked Clarence.
“Clarence…..”
“A fine exhibition of pugilism, ya brought a tear to me eye, ya did.” The whisper was hoarse.
“What?”
“I’m a proud man, I am, to have shaken the hand of Mr Mountain Joel.” He shook the huge hand limply.
“What?” Joel leaned down very perplexed.
“I believe you said you were looking for a voice, Mountain?” Asked Haddington.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“I heard one over that way.” Said Clarence pointing over to the other side of the crowd.
“Yeah?”
“I’d be off if I were you, before it leaves.”
“Yeah.” He leaned down to try and hear what the vicar was muttering.
“A fine lad, one of our best.”
“Yeah.” Joel got down off his rock and made off slowly, all the time looking back over his shoulder with a perplexed frown on his face.
“Surely not Mr Priest,” said Clarence, “isn’t it Mr Actor?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Said the vicar with a miraculously restored voice without the Irish brogue.
The gong sounded and the crowd fell silent.
“Your attention please, gentlemen,” called the master of ceremonies in the centre of the ring, “our next two lads are new to our valley, but not to the sport. I present for your entertainment, Mr Silver Gander.” A young man came bouncing to the centre of the ring with his hands above his head. The crowd applauded and cheered politely. “And our own Mr Milker Cheek.” The crowd went wild with enthusiasm.
“By God, Milker,” smiled Haddington, “two novices you said, vicar?”
“I had no idea it was Milker.”
“Where the devil is that Billy Harrow?” Asked an irritated Haddington.
“No need to worry, Your Lordship,” smiled the vicar standing beside him, Clarence who was sitting on a rock just next to the vicar looked up at him, the vicar opened his mouth. “BILLY HARROW OVER HERE, IF YOU PLEASE!” The voice carried clearly above the crowd.
It startled Haddington who fell sideways knocking the vicar so that he fell to the ground, sweeping the rock on which Clarence sat.
They lay in a bundle on the ground as Cloud and Lee came to their aid.
Suddenly the sun was blotted out.
“Yeah.”
“Mountain, old chap.” Smiled Haddington as the giant picked him up and put him back on the rock.
“Yeah.”
“A fine broth of a boy.” Said the vicar in a whisper as the giant picked him up by his shoulders.
Joel looked into his face and took one step forward, right onto Clarence’s hand.
“Sorry, mate.” Joel dropped the vicar at Clarence’s scream and reached down to help him to his feet. The vicar melted into the rocks. “Here, let me rub it for you.” He proceeded to rub the flesh from Clarence’s hand, or at least that’s how it felt to Clarence.
All this time the crowd was going wild.
“Here,” said Joel, “where’d that Mr Bishop go?”
“Mr Priest, Mr Priest.” Said Clarence from between clenched teeth.
“Yeah.”
“That way, pal.” Pointed Cloud.
“Yeah, thanks, mate.” He bounded off pushing the crowd aside. The two fighters were hammering away in the ring.
“You want old Billy?” Smiled Harrow appearing from nowhere.
“Who’s the favourite, Billy?”
“Well, now, Your Lordship, that new lad, Gander, he’s not half bad.”
“Five pounds on him.”
“Mr Clarence?”
“Five pounds.” Winched Clarence holding his sore hand.
“Somit wrong with your claw?” Harrow reached across to squeeze it. Clarence danced a merry jig.
“Five pounds for me also, Mr Harrow.” Smiled the vicar appearing from nowhere, he looked at Clarence. “What a strange fellow.”
“What about the Yanks?” Smiled Harrow.
“Ten pounds on Mr Cheek.” Said Cloud.
“You’re throwin’ your money away, sport.”
“That’s my business.”
“Follow his Lordship here, he ain’t ever wrong.”
“Just take the bet, pal, we support the local, see?” Said Cloud.
“I don’t want to take your money, you’re guests.”
“You’re not gonna burst into tears, are ya, pal?” Demanded Cloud angrily.
“Humour them, Billy.” Smiled Haddington.
“Alright, alright, the customer is always right, I always say, but you’re throwin’ your money away.”
“Look, pal, I know the fight game, I grew up in it.”
“Ten pounds then.” Said Harrow shaking his head.
Suddenly the crowd roared even louder and above the din the ref could be heard counting.“….seven….eight…..” The crowd joined in, “….nine….ten. You’re out, the winner!” The ref held up the hand of Silver Gander. The crowd went insane.
“Blimey, knows the fight game, he says.” Snorted Harrow.
The entertainment was over and the crowd dispersed slowly, here and there small groups congregated as Haddington, Clarence and the two Americans said goodbye to the vicar and made their way through the crush of bodies.
They came upon a bearded gentleman in his Sunday best smiling as he was handed money by a core of dispirited losers.
“Good afternoon, constable.” Smiled Haddington.
“Good afternoon, Your Lordship.” He raised his bowler hat and the beard rose with it. “You must be mistaken, sir.” He returned the beard hurriedly to his face.
“Yes, I see I am, I thought you were the local constable.”
“Oh, no, sir, I’m Mr….Mr….Jones.”
“I see, lovely day.” Haddington strolled on with his hands behind his back.
“Yes, it is.”
“Thank God for that,” said Clarence, “for a minute I thought he was going to say he was Mr Copper.”
“For Heaven’s sake, Clarence, let’s not start that nonsense again.”
“No, Your Lordship.” He bowed slightly from the waist.
“And keep your voice down, do you want people to recognise me?” He stroked his beard.
“Indeed we do not, Your Lordship.?
??
They joined the throng making its way up the steep steps on the side of the mountain up to the road. Suddenly from somewhere above the mass came a voice clearly.
“ANDERSON MACKAY, IF YOU ARE DOWN THERE, I SHALL MEET YOU ON THE ROAD AND YOU CAN PAY ME THE MONEY YOU OWE ME.”
“No need to wonder where Mr Priest is.” Panted Clarence beside Haddington, two shapes came shoving past and they were roughly pushed aside.
“Come on, Mountain,” called Hannibal, “now we’ll get ‘im.”
“Yeah.”
“I do believe, Your Lordship, our next engagement may well be a funeral.” Smiled Clarence, Cloud and Lee chuckled as they came behind.
When they reached the road they could see no signs of a struggle as knots of people congregated here and there and carriages were pulling out to go on their way. Clarence searched the ground but was disappointed not to see any bits and pieces of Mr Priest.
Harrow appeared and settled up with Clarence and Haddington and got his money from Cloud. Haddington waved in greeting to some acquaintances and climbed in the carriage followed by the others.
Cloud kept Haddington and Lee laughing all the way back as he told them stories of boxers akin to Mountain and Squinty.
Clarence sat in a deep silence as he watched Cloud intently with a slight frown on his face.
“……I don’t know how you stood it, Sir Rupert.”Came the voice of Lady Marlebone.
“It certainly wasn’t easy, my dear, not by any means was it easy.”
“Such a life of adventure, dear me, such a life.”
“It was, most assuredly it was.”
“I must make it a point,” said Haddington to Clarence as they came strolling down the corridor, “to actually sit and listen to that pack of lies my brother calls his life, most people seem to find it very interesting.”
“Mind you, I was only fifteen years old at the time, only fifteen, I was quite young, you see.”
“Dear me, dear me.”
“Oh, yes, only fifteen.”
“Just fifteen?”
“Yes, yes, only fifteen, not even sixteen.”
“On second thought,” said Haddington, “I don’t think I could stand it.”
The four came into the room to find Sir Rupert and Lady Marlebone playing gin rummy. Cynthia sat in an easy chair reading a book, while across the room on a sofa Winterhaiming sat asleep, beside him lay Miss Blackie with her head on his lap also asleep. Her whiskers gave a twitch as did her front paws then stopped.
Haddington stood at the door with his hands in his pockets.
“Hmmph.” He snorted with a little displeasure as he looked at the little cat. “I can’t say I care much for her tastes.”
“Clemmie,” smiled Sir Rupert, “come and join us old chap. We can have a game of bridge.”
“Not right now.” He sat down with an angry glance over at Winterhaiming.
“Mr Cloud?” Asked Lady Marlebone.
“I’d be delighted.” He smiled as he took a seat, Clarence sat down to make a fourth.
“Charity work for the day all done?” Asked Sir Rupert as he sorted the cards.
“Cloud was so taken he even made a donation.” Smiled Clarence.
“It was the least I could do.”
“I’m sure it will be put to good use, Mr Cloud,” said Lady Marlebone, “I have nothing but the highest regard for people who care enough for their fellow man as to make a substantial effort.”
“Cloud did that alright.” Said Clarence.
Lee strolled over to sit in a chair opposite Cynthia.
“It must be an interesting book.”
“It would be if one could be spared unnecessary interruptions so that one could read it.” She said icily, Lee had no idea the remark was meant for her mother who had made a nuisance of herself all afternoon.
“Yes.” He said calmly. “It’s funny seeing a woman reading a book.”
“Why is it funny?” She demanded. “Because we’re not supposed to be as clever as men?”
“Now, I didn’t say that, and I didn’t mean it that way at all. Back home a lot of the ladies I know can’t read.”
“Did you find the charity work interesting, Mr Lee?” Asked Lady Marlebone.
“It was interesting alright, ma’am.”
“Just what did it entail, Mr Lee, this charity work?”
“Oh, boxing, ma’am.” He was trying to sneak a look at the title of Cynthia’s book.
“Boxing?”
“What he means, Lady Marlebone,” put in Cloud quickly, “is we visited some old pugs, down on their luck.”
“That was appropriate.” Said Cynthia.
“’Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,’” read Lee out loud, “gee, Miss Marlebone, you sure go in for the deep stuff.”
Miss Blackie suddenly shook her head and got to her feet to open her mouth in a wide yawn. Haddington sat watching her, his chin in his hand, his elbow on the arm-rest of the chair. She caught sight of him and jumped down onto the floor.
Her legs were stretched out in front of her, her rear in the air as she stretched her body, then she walked over to rub herself against his leg and with a purr lay down between his feet.
Haddington sat beaming proudly as he looked down at her, he forgave her everything.
With a sudden snort Winterhaiming came awake and sat up.
“How tiresome.” He said sleepily.
“What is tiresome?” Asked Haddington.
“Pardon, Your Lordship?” He yawned with his hand up to his mouth.
“You said something was tiresome.” Haddington thought Winterhaiming was jealous that Miss Blackie had decided to remove herself from his presence and sought the presence of the Lord of the house. Haddington was ascribing his own state of mind to Winterhaiming.
“I must have been talking in my sleep.”
“Really? Well the difference escapes me.”
“Pardon, Your Lordship?”
“Just talking to my cat.” Said Haddington as he leaned forward to reach down to pat Miss Blackie who rolled over on to her back to stretch her four little limbs out to their limit.
They occupied their time until Gilmore appeared to announce that dinner was served. Haddington picked up Miss Blackie and went to stand behind Cloud, who had just finished telling a story that had everyone laughing.
“You’re quite a character, Smokey, do you know that?” Haddington patted him on the shoulder.
“So my friends tell me, Clem.”
It was obvious that Lord Haddington was in a good mood as he stood nursing the cat with a slight smile on his lips. A mood that the two Americans had a lot to do with, a fact not lost on Lady Marlebone.
They finished the game and all rose to their feet to go in for dinner.
“Take Mr Lee’s arm, Cynthia.” Whispered her mother as she came over ostensibly to search for her fan.
“Mother…..”
“Take his arm, my dear.” She hissed.
“Yes, mother.”
Lee was talking to Cloud when Cynthia got to her feet, replaced the book in the case and came across the room.
“May I have your arm, Mr Lee?” She asked.
“My pleasure, Miss Marlebone.”
They strolled from the room behind Lord Haddington and Lady Marlebone.
“How tiresome.” Said Winterhaiming while he stifled a yawn as they passed.
As usual, because of Cloud, they had a lively and entertaining meal. To Clarence’s surprise Haddington asked Lee and Cloud to extend their visit till the end of the week and with genuine pleasure both accepted his invitation.
Clarence had to use all his persuasion to convince Haddington to extend his invitation to Winterhaiming. Much against his inclination and with very poor grace the old man did so.
Then Clarence had to convince a bored Winterhaiming.
“Oh, I say.” Smiled Sir Rupert.
“That means we have more than enough guests, I don’t want to overwork the s
ervants.” Said Haddington with a dread of what his brother was about to say.
“Oh, I say, Clemmie, I say.”
“Well, in Heaven’s name what do you say, Rupert?”
“Why don’t I stay over, I don’t need to leave tomorrow, no, no, there’s no need for me to go, I can stay over.”
“What a splendid idea, Sir Rupert.” Said Lady Marlebone pleased with the suggestion, being unaware of the look on Haddington’s face.
“How long would you intend to stay over, Rupert?”Asked Haddington knocking his fork to the ground, Clarence bent down to get it.
“A week, I dare say, yes, a week, certainly wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Said Haddington grimly as he unconsciously swept his empty plate from the table.
“That’s wonderful, Sir Rupert, simply wonderful.”
“It is rather jolly, isn’t it, rather jolly.”
“It is, it is.” Said Lady Marlebone.
“Hey,” said Cloud, “where’s Clarence, where’s Clarence?”
* * * * *