Jeffrey Archer - Paths Of Glory

“By a matter of minutes?”

“Yes,” Turner replied after he’d potted another red. “I had a visit from the Italian police later that afternoon. They wanted to know if I’d come across an Englishman called Mallory who had at some time in the past been arrested in Paris for climbing the Eiffel Tower.”

“That wasn’t me, sir,” said George.

“The description of this vagabond bore a striking resemblance to you, Mallory.”

“It’s still not true, sir. I had at least a hundred feet to go when they arrested me.”

Turner burst out laughing. “All I can say, Mallory, is that you’d better not plan to spend your honeymoon in France or Italy, unless you wish to spend your first night of married life in a prison cell. Mind you, when I looked into your criminal activities in Venice, it seems that you only broke a by-law.”

“A by-law?”

“Failure to pay an entrance fee when entering a public monument.” Turner paused, “Maximum fine one thousand lire.” He smiled at his future son-in-law. “On a more serious matter, dear boy-my game, I think.”

“D O YOU THINKwe’ll have to go to war, sir?” asked Wainwright on the first day of term.

“Let’s hope not, Wainwright,” George replied.

“Why not, sir, if it’s a just cause? After all, we should stand up for what we believe in; the English always have in the past.”

“But if it were possible to negotiate an honorable agreement with the Germans,” said George, “wouldn’t that be a better solution?”

“You can’t negotiate an honorable agreement with the Hun, sir. They never keep to their side of the bargain.”

“Perhaps history will prove you wrong on this occasion,” said George.

“You’ve always taught us, sir, to study the past carefully if you want to predict the most likely outcome in the future, and the Hun-”

“The Germans, Wainwright.”

“The Germans, sir, have throughout history proved to be a warlike nation.”

“Some might say the same of the English, whenever it’s been in our interests.”

“Not true, sir,” said Wainwright. “England only goes to war when there’s a just cause.”

“As seen by the English,” suggested George, which silenced Wainwright for a moment.

“But if we did have to go to war,” jumped in Carter minor, “would you enlist?”

Before George could reply, Wainwright interjected, “Mr. Asquith has said that should we go to war, schoolmasters would be exempt from serving in the armed forces.”

“You seem unusually well informed on this subject, Wainwright,” said George.

“My father’s a general, sir.”

“Views overheard in the nursery are always harder to dislodge than those taught in the classroom,” replied George.

“Who said that?” asked Graves.

“Bertrand Russell,” George replied.

“And everyone knows he’s a conchie,” chipped in Wainwright.

“What’s a conchie?” asked Carter minor.

“A conscientious objector. Someone who will use any excuse not to fight for his country,” said Wainwright.

“Everyone should be allowed to follow their own conscience, Wainwright, when it comes to facing a moral dilemma.”

“Bertrand Russell, no doubt,” said Wainwright.

“Jesus Christ, actually,” said George.

Wainwright fell silent, but Carter minor came back, “If we were to go to war, sir, wouldn’t that rather scupper your chances of climbing Everest?”

Out of the mouths of babes …Ruth had put the same question to him over a breakfast, as well as the more important one of whether he would feel it was his duty to enlist or, as her father had crudely put it, would hide behind the shield of a schoolmaster’s gown.

“My personal belief-” began George just as the bell sounded. The class, in their eagerness not to miss morning break, didn’t seem all that interested in his personal beliefs.

As George walked across to the common room, he dismissed any thoughts of war in the hope of coming to a peaceful settlement with Andrew, whom he hadn’t seen since he’d returned from Venice. When he opened the common room door he spotted his chum sitting in his usual seat reading The Times . He didn’t look up. George poured himself a cup of tea and walked slowly across to join him, quite ready for a bout of mental fisticuffs.

“Good morning, George,” Andrew said, still not looking up.

“Good morning, Andrew,” George replied, slipping into the seat beside him.

“I hope you had decent hols,” Andrew added as he abandoned his newspaper.

“Pleasant enough,” replied George cautiously.

“Can’t say I did, old boy.”

George sat back and waited for the onslaught.

“I suppose you’ve heard about Ruth and me,” said Andrew.

“Of course I have,” said George.

“So what would you advise me to do about it, old boy?”

“Be magnanimous?” suggested George hopefully.

“Easy enough for you to say, old boy, but what about Ruth? I can’t see her being magnanimous.”

“Why not?” asked George.

“Would you be if I let you down at the last moment?”

George couldn’t think of a suitable reply.

“I really did mean to go to Venice, don’t you know,” continued Andrew, “but that was before we reached the semi-final of the Taunton Cup.”

“Congratulations,” said George, beginning to understand.

“And the lads prevailed on me, said I couldn’t let the side down, especially as they didn’t have another goalkeeper.”

“So you never went to Venice?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, old boy. And worse, we didn’t even win the cup, so I lost out both ways.”

“Bad luck, old chap,” said George, trying to hide a smirk.

“Do you think she’ll ever speak to me again?” asked Andrew.

“Well, you’ll be able to find out soon enough,” said George.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “How come, old chap?”

“We’ve just sent you an invitation to our wedding.”

“H AVE YOU METthis paragon of virtue?” asked Odell as he folded his copy of the Manchester Guardian and placed it on the seat beside him.

“No,” said Finch, “but I should have guessed something was up when Mallory left us early and disappeared off to Venice.”

“I think it’s what female novelists describe as a whirlwind romance,” said Young. “They’ve only known each other a few months.”

“That would have been quite long enough for me,” chipped in Guy Bullock, who had returned to England. “I can tell you chaps, she’s ravishing, and anyone who might have been envious of George in the past will turn into a green-eyed monster the moment they set eyes on her.”

“I can’t wait to meet the girl George fell for,” said Somervell with a grin.

“It’s time to call this meeting to order,” said Young when the guard shouted, “Next stop, Godalming!”

“To start with,” continued Young, “I hope you all remembered to bring your ice axes…”

“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

George never took his eyes off Ruth while his father was addressing him. “I will,” he responded firmly.

The Reverend Mallory turned his attention to the bride, and smiled. “Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”