Disclaimers: Although I wish I were the creative genius behind John's and Robert's character, they belong to Julian Fellowes. I'm sorry for the time I'm taking to write this story. I've been getting the blank page syndrome lately, but here is a new chapter!
Thank you for sticking with me!
Thank you for your reviews, they are highly appreciated!
June 1901
In the darkness of the night, the train that was taking them from Johannesburg back to Cape Town was the only sign of civilisation from miles away. In their compartment only lit by candles and the cigarettes men were smoking, John was playing cards with his fellow soldiers. Laughter and smoke were filling the air. Some, a bit tipsy, were singing and climbing on tables.
His sentence was already long forgotten by everyone, and for most of them, he was now regarded as an example of strength and honour. Robert who couldn't lie to his men had revealed to them the real reason why Sergeant Bates had been flogged. Seven months later, his wounds had mostly healed completely and he had been able to go back to his troop a couple of weeks later. They needed men to fight and could not afford to have him doing nothing in the infirmary. If he could walk, he could fight, that was the end of it.
John had been losing the little money he had in this game of poker. But this time, his hand seemed strong enough and he just wanted to regain what he had lost. All the other players had already folded and it was just him against Clive, the blond man who had managed to win all his money.
"So, are you in or do you fold like all these other cowards?" Clive said, sneering.
John suspected he was bluffing. It was impossible for him to have yet again so much luck and John was quite confident with the cards he was holding.
"I'm all in," he said, pushing the few coins he had left in front of him to the centre of the table.
"Let's see your cards then," Clive asked, smiling.
John proudly showed three pairs of Jacks, an eight and a two.
"Oh man," Clive said shaking his head. John was about to put his hand on the pile of coins and notes when Clive stopped him. "Not so quick. You may have three Jacks but have you seen my flush?"
Clive put on the table five heart cards. He pushed his hand away and took all of John's money while the other players laughed.
John was about to protest and rise from his seat when a hand landed on his right shoulder.
"You're a terrible player, Bates. I wouldn't have you playing poker to save my life," Captain Crawley said, an amused look on his face.
"Sir," they all said in unison, getting up from their seat and giving him the salute.
"Were you looking for me, sir?" John asked.
"I was, indeed. I have an impromptu dinner tonight and I need my batman to help me dress. Unless he's more interested in losing his money?" Robert said, his eyes laughing.
"I couldn't if I wanted, sir. I'm afraid Corporal Reeds stripped me," John answered.
"Well, then, Bates. Follow me." Robert then turned to the others. "Enjoy the rest of your night."
They left the compartment and headed towards Captain Crawley's quarters, two wagons away from there.
"I could teach you techniques to play poker if you'd like, and to not lose all your wages because Clive knows this game better than you," Robert suggested.
"That would be ver–" John started. But he never got to finish his sentence. A loud explosion resounded from where they came and the train stopped abruptly, throwing them onto the floor.
Dust flew above their heads, and wild orange flames danced in the dark night where the wagon with all the soldiers was. His ears were ringing. He tried to get up and saw Robert lying on his face next to him.
"Sir, are you alright?" he asked.
Robert looked up at him and realised what had happened.
"Bloody hell…" he breathed as he was getting up on his feet with John's help.
But as soon as they were both standing, bullets came flying. They dropped to their knees once more.
"Stay down," Robert instructed him. He went to the nearest window and carefully looked through it. After a few seconds, he came back to sit against the wall of the corridor. "We don't have any chances of fighting them just the two of us. We don't have our guns and they are way too many for us. Let's try to quietly exit the train."
They both crawled on the floor towards the flame where the explosion had opened a hole in the wagon. They got off the train and started to walk away.
"Play dead," Robert suddenly told him. Seeing John's confused face, Robert pushed him onto the ground beside a bush without further explanation. John was about to open his mouth when Robert put a hand on his lips and pointed at two Boer men carrying guns walking towards them.
Robert slowly reached for his knife.
John's heart almost missed a beat when he saw them stabbing bodies to make sure they were dead. But then something bit him and a small sound he immediately tried to muffle escaped his lips. One of the Boers turned around and saw them. John felt Robert tense beside him but continued to play dead.
The two-man approached slowly and as they were about to kill them, Robert was quicker and stabbed his assailant before he could move and John took the opportunity to give the one standing above him a kick in the knee, making him fall beside him. He took the knife and stabbed him.
John fell on his butt and breathed heavily. He couldn't believe he had just killed another man with his bare hands.
But Robert took him by the arm and urged him to follow. They passed in front of the wagon in flames. It was a horrible sight. One that John would never forget. Before leaving in the opposite direction of the Boers unit who had planned the ambush, John saw a face he recognised. Peter, covered in blood, his boyish grin no more on his face. John stopped, his legs failing him at the sight of his friend, lying dead in the middle of nowhere, so far away from his home and the green fields he used to run in.
Robert's hand took him by the arm once more.
"I'm sorry John," his voice full of emotion. "But we can't stay here. It's only a matter of time before they realise their two comrades are taking an awful lot of time to come back. We need to go now!"
With his heart heavy, John followed Robert and they ran as fast as they could to get away from the fire illuminating the dark land. They didn't know where they were or where they were heading but they knew they had to get as far away from this train as they could if they wanted to live.
The sun was rising in the sky in front of them, painting the ground red. They had been walking for a couple of hours now, in no real direction. They were lost but at least they had escaped the flames and the bullets of the Boers. Robert was determined to bring them both back alive. He was walking ahead of him. John was short of breath and had no choice but to stop a little. Robert's heard his footsteps stopping and he turned around to look at him.
"Are you all right, Bates?" he asked, concerned.
John sat heavily next to a tree, catching his breath.
"I'm alright, sir. Just a bit tired and thirsty, that's all."
Robert reached for his flask inside his jacket and offered it to him. When John reached for it, Robert let a cry of horror escape his lips.
"Your hand, Bates! It's all swollen."
"Something bit me when I was lying on the ground… I am perfectly alright, sir. I can manage," he simply said.
He drank some water and gave the flask back to his Captain. As he tried to stand up, he was hit by a violent wave of nausea. He threw up into the bushes next to him and sat again, resting his back on the tree, panting.
"Oh Bates," Robert said leaning towards him. He put a hand on his forehead and made a face. "You're burning up! You are not fine!"
"I'll be alright, sir,' John managed to say. "I have to."
"I'll let you catch your breath but we need to move forward. We need to find someone to help you."
After a few minutes and Robert had drunk too they stood up again. Robert helped him get his jacket off. The sun was already burning above their heads.
"It is not right, sir. I should be the one undressing you."
"Let me do it this time, man. I don't need you wasting any precious energy fighting me on this."
They started walking again, John leaning a bit on Robert. They walked like that for what seemed hours, John getting sicker with every minute passing. They stopped regularly for him to catch his breath. He threw up a bit more, only bile as he had nothing left in his stomach. Robert grew very concerned when sitting in a spot of shade he unbuttoned John's collar so he could breathe more easily and saw that the swelling had now gained all over his right arm. It was spreading fast and Bates's fever was getting worse. If they didn't reach civilisation soon, Bates might succumb to the venom spreading in his body and the heat.
"Come on, John," he told him, helping him to get on his feet. John didn't even notice how Robert used his first name and didn't find the strength in him to answer.
Robert was getting more and more tired. He was almost carrying the weight of two men. And John wasn't just a skinny lad. It wasn't long before John collapsed entirely on the dusty ground, his breathing rattled.
"Bates!" Robert called out to him, but his batman didn't respond.
He put him on his back and started walking again, every step costing him so much energy. He had finished his water and the sun was burning the horizon. He walked and walked for god knows how long carrying Bates on his back. Until completely exhausted, he collapsed too. Next to him, Bates was just barely breathing. Robert used his last strength to turn on his back.
"I'm sorry my friend," he murmured.
His lids were so heavy, and as he closed them, he thought he saw dark figures coming towards them.
