Flashman. George MacDonald Fraser

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      ‘How d’ye mean?’ said Forrest, taking up the cards and stakes.

      ‘With Flashy it’s t’other way, you know,’ says Bryant. ‘He makes off with other chaps’ queens.’

      ‘Aha,’ says Forrest, grinning. ‘But the Queen of Diamonds is a good Englishwoman, ain’t she, Flash? Mounting French fillies is your style, I hear.’

      There was a good deal of laughter, and glances in Bernier’s direction. I should have kept them quiet, but I was fool enough to join in.

      ‘Nothing wrong in a French filly,’ I said, ‘so long as the jockey’s an English one. A French trainer is well enough, of course, but they don’t last in a serious race.’

      It was feeble enough stuff, no doubt, even allowing for the port we had drunk, but it snapped the straw. The next I knew my chair had been dragged away, and Bernier was standing over me as I sprawled on the floor, his face livid and his mouth working.

      ‘What the devil—’ began Forrest, as I scrambled up, and the others jumped up also. I was half on my feet when Bernier struck me, and I lost my balance and went down again.

      ‘For God’s sake, Bernier!’ shouts Forrest, ‘are you mad?’ and they had to hold him back, or he would have savaged me on the ground, I think. Seeing him held, I came up with an oath, and made to go for him, but Bryant grabbed me, crying ‘No, no, Flash! Hold off, Flashy!’ and they clustered round me as well.

      Truth is, I was nearly sick with fear, for the murder was out now. The best shot in the regiment had hit me, but with provocation – fearful or not, I have always been quick and clear enough in my thinking in a crisis – and there couldn’t be any way out except a meeting. Unless I took the blow, which meant an end to my career in the army and in society. But to fight him was a quick road to the grave.

      It was a horrible dilemma, and in that moment, as they held us apart, I saw I must have time to think, to plan, to find a way out. I shook them off, and without a word stalked out of the mess, like a man who must remove himself before he does someone a mischief.

      It took me five minutes of hard thinking, and then I was striding back into the mess again. My heart was hammering, and no doubt I looked pretty furious, and if I shook they thought it was anger.

      The chatter died away as I came in; I can feel that silence now, sixty years after, and see the elegant blue figures, and the silver gleaming on the table, and Bernier, alone and very pale, by the fireplace. I went straight up to him. I had my speech ready.

      ‘Captain Bernier,’ I said, ‘you have struck me with your hand. That was rash, for I could take you to pieces with mine if I chose.’ This was blunt, English Flashman, of course. ‘But I prefer to fight like a gentleman, even if you do not.’ I swung round on my heel. ‘Lieutenant Forrest, will you act for me?’

      Forrest said yes, like a shot, and Bryant looked piqued. He expected I would have named him, but I had another part for him to play.

      ‘And who acts for you?’ I asked Bernier, very cool. He named Tracy, one of the Indian men, and I gave Tracy a bow and then went over to the card table as though nothing had happened.

      ‘Mr Forrest will have the details to attend to,’ I said to the others. ‘Shall we cut for the bank?’

      They stared at me. ‘By gad, Flash, you’re a cool one!’ cries Bryant.

      I shrugged, and took up the cards, and we started playing again, the others all very excited – too excited to notice that my thoughts were not on my cards. Luckily, vingt-et-un calls for little concentration.

      After a moment Forrest, who had been conferring with Tracy, came over to tell me that, with Lord Cardigan’s permission, which he was sure must be forthcoming, we should meet behind the riding school at six in the morning. It was assumed I would choose pistols – as the injured party I had the choice.⁶ I nodded, very offhand, and told Bryant to hurry with the deal. We played a few more hands, and then I said I was for bed, lit my cheroot and strolled out with an airy good night to the others, as though the thought of pistols at dawn troubled me no more than what I should have for breakfast. Whatever happened, I had grown in popular esteem for this night at least.

      I stopped under the trees on the way to my quarters, and after a moment, as I had expected, Bryant came hurrying after me, full of excitement and concern. He began to babble about what a devil of a fellow I was, and what a fighting Turk Bernier was, but I cut him off short.

      ‘Tommy,’ says I. ‘You’re not a rich man.’

      ‘Eh?’ says he. ‘What the—’

      ‘Tommy,’ says I. ‘Would you like ten thousand pounds?’

      ‘In God’s name,’ says he. ‘What for?’

      ‘For seeing that Bernier stands up at our meeting tomorrow with an unloaded pistol,’ says I, straight out. I knew my man.

      He goggled at me, and then began to babble again. ‘Christ, Flash, are you crazy? Unloaded … why …’

      ‘Yes or no,’ says I. ‘Ten thousand pounds.’

      ‘But it’s murder!’ he squealed. ‘We’d swing for it!’ No thought of honour you see, or any of that rot.

      ‘Nobody’s going to swing,’ I told him. ‘And keep your voice down, d’ye hear? Now, then, Tommy, you’re a sharp man with the sleight of hand at parties – I’ve seen you. You can do it in your sleep. For ten thousand?’

      ‘My God, Flash,’ says he, ‘I don’t dare.’ And he began babbling again, but in a whisper this time.

      I let him ramble for a moment, for I knew he would come round. He was a greedy little bastard, and the thought of ten thousand was like Aladdin’s cave to him. I explained how safe and simple it would be; I had thought it out when first I left the mess.

      ‘Go and borrow Reynolds’ duelling pistols, first off. Take ’em to Forrest and Tracy and offer to act as loader – you’re always into everything, and they’ll be glad to accept, and never think twice.’

      ‘Won’t they, by God?’ cried he. ‘They know I’m hellish thick with you, Flashy.’

      ‘You’re an officer and a gentleman,’ I reminded him. ‘Now who will imagine for a moment that you would stoop to such a treacherous act, eh? No, no, Tommy, it’s cut and dried. And in the morning, with the surgeon and seconds standing by, you’ll load up – carefully. Don’t tell me you can’t palm a pistol ball.’

      ‘Oh, aye,’ says he, ‘like enough. But—’

      ‘Ten thousands pounds,’ I said, and he licked his lips.

      ‘Jesus,’ he said at length. ‘Ten thousand. Phew! On your word of honour, Flash?’

      ‘Word of honour,’ I said, and lit another cheroot.

      ‘I’ll do it!’ says he. ‘My God! You’re a devil, Flash! You won’t kill him, though? I’ll have no part in murder.’

      ‘Captain Bernier will be as safe from me as I’ll be from him,’ I told СКАЧАТЬ