Forever the Colours (17 page)

The interpreter jabbered again in Hindi and the smile dropped off Singh's face. He leaned down a little, stared at Tommy with his one clear eye and started jabbering again.

‘The Naik is saying you will move, little Englishman, or he will be moving you.'

A crowd had gathered at this point.

Tommy slid his right foot back so he was more side-on, and lowered his forehead; he assumed a solid fighting stance, the one he was taught by his kick-boxing instructor for many years.

‘You can tell this dickhead,' said Tommy, who's voice was rising along with his anger, ‘that if he wants some, I'm right here.'

Singh looked as if he was about to strike Tommy when a loud voice sounded above the now-swelling crowd of Grenadiers, 66th and some of the Gunners.

‘ENOUGH.'

The crowd parted and an officer walked through, followed by a large sergeant.

They crowd fell silent and the Grenadier, as well as Tommy, came to attention.

‘Would somebody like to tell me what the devil is going on here? Well?'

A sergeant of the Grenadiers stepped forward. ‘Lieutenant Sahib, this Private of Infantry attempted to stop my Naik going about his business and was behaving aggressively.'

The officer looked at Tommy.

‘Is this correct, Private?'

Tommy didn't speak for a moment.

‘I ask you again, Private, were you aggressive towards this Corporal going about his duties? Need I remind you that a strike or even an attempted one on a superior is punishable by death?'

Tommy looked straight into the man's eyes. ‘Sir, this Grenadier was beating a wallah for no other reason than accidently spilling hot tea on him, sir.'

The officer looked over at Singh and did a double-take. He became thoughtful for a moment. ‘Did you beat a wallah, Corporal, for this reason?'

‘Yes sir, Lieutenant Sahib,' although he answered; he did not look at the officer but stared into the distance.

Tommy looked for the
wallah but he had cleared off. The officer was silent for a moment.

‘So how are we supposed to remedy this situation, then, Private, eh? Do you have any suggestions?' He stepped closer to Tommy so that only he could hear. ‘Now don't go upsetting the native soldiers, Private. They already assume that we think they are inferior, including that brute. Do you think you could have handled him had I not intervened?' He said this with a twinkle in his eye.

Tommy caught on. ‘Yes sir, I propose a boxing match, sir.'

‘A boxing match, you say?'

‘Yes sir, but a match that incorporates other fighting skills as well as boxing, sir.'

‘Do you, by God. Well, what say you to that, Corporal? Would you accept a fight from the Private here?'

Singh looked Tommy up and down and smiled. ‘Yes, Lieutenant Sahib,' he said.

The officer nodded.

‘Well then, I propose that we meet in, say, one hour at the Grenadiers' camp. And I will be refereeing the match. Does that suit you both?'

They both nodded their agreement.

‘Good. Dismissed.' The Grenadiers moved off, with them all laughing and patting Singh on the back.

Tommy made to move off but a voice called him back.

‘Hold,' said the officer, and he moved in close to Tommy. ‘Are you mad, Private?' he whispered. ‘Do you honestly think you can win against that brute?'

‘Well, we'll have to wait and see, sir.'

‘I watched that man beat to a pulp the 66th champion, and I hear he knows that Sikh style of unarmed combat. I do believe you've bitten off a tad more than you can chew.'

Tommy shrugged.

‘I did lose money on Davis, but you seem awfully confident. Very well, then. Dismissed.'

Tommy turned, and as he started to make his way back to Preston's tent, found Arun hiding behind a cart.

‘C'mon mate, let's get a cup of chai, shall we?' But Arun stopped in front of him.

‘Please do not be fighting Grenadier. Private Sahib, that soldier is animal, you will be being hurt, yes please,' he pleaded with Tommy, all the way back to the tent.

‘You've done what?' blustered Maurice. ‘Have you utterly lost your wits?'

Tommy was sipping the tea that Arun had brought him, and he smiled back at his friend.

‘I don't believe this. It's too ridiculous to contemplate. Did you not have eyes in that thick skull of yours yesterday? Did you not observe that goliath make our champion look like… like…I don't know, a woman! For heaven's sake, Thomas, you're going to get killed or badly injured at least, all for the sake of a bloody chai wallah!'

‘I couldn't give a shit who it was for, Maurice, a wallah or the Queen. I hate bullies!'

‘Do you honestly believe you stand a chance against that man? He will tear you apart, Thomas, he is a beast, an animal, a creature of hell. Well he looks like one, anyway, but what I'm trying to elucidate to you is that, well, I don't want you to get hurt, old chap.'

‘Thanks for the show of confidence.'

‘It's not about confidence, my friend, it's about intelligence. Why do you want to put yourself in harm's way for such an asinine notion?'

‘What the bloody hell is this army out here for, then? Since we're talking about being in harm's way…and Maurice, why the hell have you attached yourself to it if you want to stay safe? I couldn't think of a worse position or place to be in.'

Tommy stood up and looked at his friend with a new warmth. ‘Tell you what, me old pal, how about you just wish me luck, eh?' He turned and walked to the tent entrance.

‘Wait, wait, I'm coming with you.' Maurice threw his helmet and tunic on and began to button it as he followed Tommy.

They made their way down towards the already forming ring, and Tommy was surprised to find quite a large crowd had formed. There were different uniforms everywhere, and as he got closer, Tommy could see the amount of money changing hands.
Well,
well,
what
do
you
know
, thought Tommy.

‘Maurice, have you got any cash, mate?'

‘A gentleman does not carry spare change, Thomas, it's not the done thing. But if you're thinking what I'm thinking, my word is good.'

‘Well, why don't you put a few quid on me to win?'

Maurice looked at him in surprise, ‘A few quid? You do mean shillings, don't you?'

‘Eh, what you on about? Pounds, Maurice, you know, sterling.'

‘That's an exceptionally large amount, old chap. If you were to fail, well, that's a lot of money, Thomas.'

‘Just do it, mate.'

Tommy took off his tunic and then his shirt. His tattoos drew a lot of curious glances, including the officer from earlier, who was making his way across the square toward him.

‘My dear Thomas, how the devil are you?' said Maurice. ‘What brings you into the ranks of the unwashed masses?'

‘Hello Maurice. Well, I am here in an official capacity, actually. I am the referee for this fight between,' he looked at Tommy, ‘this young man here and that enormous mountain of terror over there,' he said, indicating Corporal Singh, who had just made his way into the square.

‘Have you been introduced? No? Well, may I present Private Thomas Evans of the 66th Foot. Thomas, may I introduce Lieutenant Thomas Henn, an Engineer with the Bombay Sappers and Miners.'

Tommy nodded. ‘We've already met, Maurice,' he said, and he put on the gloves that were supplied by a smiling Grenadier.

Henn gave Tommy a strange look and wondered as to the familiarity between these two, but shook his head and sniffed, ‘Yes, Maurice, we have indeed. In fact, I was trying to encourage the young man not to trade punches with that monster. Did you see what he did to that poor private from your regiment? Poor chap still can't see properly, so I've heard.' He sniffed again and looked hurt. ‘I lost 10 shillings on the oaf!'

Henn looked over to the Grenadiers' corner. ‘Well, it looks as though the Grenadier is ready. Shall we begin?' He walked off toward the centre of the square.

While Henn had been talking, Tommy had been stretching his muscles and controlling his breathing, and was now ready. He took a last look at Maurice, who was sporting a horrified expression, and rubbed his forefinger and thumb together, mouthing the word, ‘Money!'

Tommy strolled up to Henn and the expressionless Grenadier. He stretched his neck muscles and jumped up and down on the spot.

Henn gave Tommy a funny look and shrugged. ‘Right, gentlemen, seeing that this is a mixed-fighting-art thingy,' he shrugged again, ‘all I have to say is, well, good luck.' And with that, he moved backward, put his hand out and shouted, ‘Begin!'

Tommy sprang backwards as a left jab snaked out from Singh and caught fresh air. Tommy smiled at him and slowly moved around the square. The Indian turned in the centre, watching him, expressionless.

‘What's the matter, dickhead? A bit quicker than the last one, eh?'

With a sudden lunge that surprised Tommy, Singh shot forward and, crouching down, attempted to grab him around the waist; Tommy shifted sideways and slapped the top of his head, surprised at how easy this was. But, as he caught him, Singh's left hand flew out and caught Tommy's ankle. Before he knew what was happening, he was on his back and scrambling backwards through the dust with Singh bearing down on him. He flipped over and sprang to his feet just before Singh could grab him. Tommy trotted away and sized up his opponent again.
So
that's
your
game
, he thought,
get
in
close,
wrestle
me
down
and
use
that
superior
strength
.

Tommy carried on backing away, thinking, while Singh followed slowly, smiling now. The crowd had started to jeer, but Tommy ignored them. He knew his business and this guy was dangerous. He had changed tactics, and although he was good with his fists, he had favoured another method and that made Tommy wary. As he passed by his own corner, he noticed Maurice talking to one of the moneylenders.
What
a
backstabber
, he thought.
He
thinks
I'm
gonna
lose!
Singh stepped forward a few paces, and looked as if he was going to lunge again.
Fuck
it!
thought Tommy,
Bring
it
on
. And he braced himself.

The crowd was roaring, but it was such a noise that no particular voice could be heard. Tommy had reached a sense of calmness now and didn't move as the Grenadier came forward another step. He positioned himself in a classic Taekwondo fighting stance. With another lightning lunge, Singh launched himself at Tommy's midriff, but this time Tommy was expecting the low manoeuvre. When Singh was just feet away, Tommy performed a perfect roundhouse kick that took the other man in the side of the head. As the Grenadier staggered sideways, Tommy spun on the spot and landed back in the fighting stance. But he did not follow up.

‘That's right, I am gonna make you suffer, you knobhead,' he said, and smiled at the now-frowning Grenadier.

‘STOP.'

The booming voice of Henn resounded around the square, and he trotted up in between the fighters.

‘Back to your corners. End of the round, gentlemen,' he said, and he put his arms out, palms up, to emphasise this. Time had flown by as the two fighters had circled each other. Tommy walked backwards to his corner remembering that last punch that Singh had used on the 66th champion.
Well
, he thought,
you're
not
catching
me
out,
me
old
mate
. The Grenadier glared as he made his way back.

‘My God, Thomas, where did you learn to move like that?' said Maurice. ‘That was incredible.'

‘Yeah, well, it's not over yet, Maurice.'

‘Thomas, I think you should know that Burrows is here with his staff.'

Tommy looked at his friend with a little confusion, ‘Sorry, who?'

‘The General of our little party, our glorious leader, El Cid!'

‘Oh, right, nice. But I've got bigger things to worry about, mucka, like that big twat over there.'

Henn's voice sounded again, ‘Right, gentlemen, ready?'

Tommy shook out his arms and hopped on the spot.
Right,
you
ugly
fucker
, he thought,
let's
have
it
. He walked to the centre again and eyed up the Grenadier, who had, this time, an angry look on his face.
Oh
dear
, thought Tommy,
you
look
a
little
peeved!
Let's
see
what
we
can
make
of
that,
shall
we
.