Paths of Glory Read online

  George didn’t see the poor fellow a few steps below him who had removed his goggles and reeled backward as he took the full blast of cold wind in his face. Moments later he was on his hands and knees on the floor at the base of the staircase, covering his eyes and vomiting. Lampton drew a line through the name of another man who wouldn’t be making the passage to India.

  When the buzzer sounded at fifty minutes, they had reached 24,000 feet, with temperatures of minus twenty-five degrees. Only Mallory, Finch, Odell, Somervell, Bullock, and Norton were still on their feet. By the time they had reached 25,000 feet, Bullock and Odell had joined the others on the mats, so exhausted they didn’t have the strength to follow the progress of the four survivors. Dr. Lampton checked the clock and put a tick beside Odell’s and Bullock’s names.

  Somervell managed just over fifty-three minutes before he fell off the staircase and collapsed to his hands and knees. He tried valiantly to step back on, but was immediately thrown off again. Norton was kneeling by his side a moment later. Lampton wrote 53 minutes and 54 minutes next to their names. He then turned his attention to the two men who appeared to be immovable.

  Lampton lowered the temperature to minus forty degrees and raised the atmospheric pressure to that at 29,000 feet, but the two survivors still refused to be budged. He turned the wind machine up to forty miles an hour. Finch stumbled, regretting that he had bagged the top step, as he was now shielding George from the full force of the wind. But just as it looked as if he was beaten, he somehow managed to recover and find enough strength to keep pace with the relentlessly moving escalator.

  The clock showed both climbers that they only had three more minutes to go. That was when George decided he would have to give up. His legs felt like lumps of jelly, he was frozen and gasping for breath, and he was beginning to fall back. He accepted that the victory would be Finch’s. Then, without warning, Finch fell back a step, and then another, followed by a third, which only made George more determined to hold on for the last ninety seconds until the final buzzer sounded. When the staircase at last came to a halt, he and Finch fell into each other’s arms like a pair of legless drunks.

  Odell hauled himself up from his mat and staggered across to congratulate them. Somervell and Norton joined them a moment later. If Bullock could have crawled across, he would have done so, but he remained spread-eagled on the mat, still gasping for breath.

  Once the wind machine had been turned off, the altitude returned to sea level and the temperature raised to normal, the door of the chamber was unlocked, and a dozen doctors and nurses rushed into the room and began to carry out tests on the participants to gauge their rates of recovery. In less than five minutes, George’s heartbeat was back down to forty-eight, by which time Finch was strolling around the room chatting to those colleagues who were still standing.

  Dr. Lampton remained in the control room. He knew he was going to have to tell Hinks that Mallory and Finch were by far the most impressive candidates, and frankly there was nothing to choose between them. He was convinced that if anyone was likely to reach 29,000 feet and stand on top of the world, it was going to be one of those two.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  WHEN RUTH PICKED up the phone, she immediately recognized the voice on the other end of the line.

  “Good morning, headmaster,” she said. “—Yes, he left a few moments ago—no, he never drives to school, headmaster, he always walks—it’s just under five miles, and it usually takes him around fifty minutes. Good-bye, headmaster.”

  George raised his ancient umbrella when he felt a few drops of rain land on his forehead. He tried to think about his morning lesson with the lower fifth—not that he had anything new to tell them about the Elizabethans. He wondered how Francis Drake would have handled the problem that had been nagging away at him for the past decade.

  He had not yet heard from the Everest Committee following last week’s medical tests. Still, there could be a letter waiting for him when he returned home that evening. There might even be a mention of the team selection in The Times—if so, Andrew O’Sullivan would be certain to bring it to his attention during the mid-morning break. However, after Finch’s stalwart effort at the medical, George would have no complaint if he turned out to be the committee’s choice as climbing leader. He’d laughed out loud when Young had reported verbatim the exchange between Finch and Hinks that had taken place at the committee meeting. He only wished he had been able to witness the encounter himself.

  Although he didn’t agree with Finch about the use of oxygen at high altitude, he did accept that if they were to have any chance of making a good fist of it, they would have to approach the whole exercise in a more professional manner than in the past, and to learn from the mistakes made during the South Pole debacle.

  His thoughts turned to Ruth, and how supportive she had been. The past year had been idyllic. They were blessed with two lovely daughters and a lifestyle that would have been the envy of most men. Did he really want to travel to the other side of the earth, and have to watch his children growing up by letter and photograph? But it was Ruth who had cruelly summed up his innermost dilemma when she had casually asked him how he would feel if Andrew pointed out a photograph in The Times of George Finch standing on top of the world, while he had just come from teaching the lower fifth?

  George checked his watch as he passed a signpost that told him he still had three miles to walk, and smiled. He was a couple of minutes ahead of schedule for a change. He disliked being late for morning assembly, and Ruth always did everything in her power to make sure he left home each morning well in time. The headmaster always entered Great Hall as the clock chimed nine, and if George was so much as thirty seconds late, he had to slip in at the back during prayers, while heads were bowed. The problem was that the headmaster’s head was never bowed—nor were the lower fifth’s for that matter.

  As he walked into School Lane, George was surprised to notice how few boys and masters were about. Even more puzzling, when he reached the school gates there was nobody in sight. Was it half term? A Sunday, perhaps? No, Ruth would have remembered and reminded him to put on his best suit.

  He walked across the empty quad toward the main hall, but not a sound was coming from inside. No headmaster, no music, not even a cough. Perhaps their heads were bowed in prayer? He turned the large wrought-iron handle slowly, and, not wishing to make a sound, pushed open the door and peered inside. The hall was packed, with every pupil in his place. On the stage stood the headmaster, with the rest of the staff seated behind him. George was more mystified than ever—after all, nine o’clock hadn’t yet chimed.

  And then one of the boys shouted, “There he is!” and everyone in the hall rose as one and began clapping and cheering.

  “Well done, sir.”

  “What a triumph.”

  “You’ll be first to reach the top!” someone shouted at him as he made his way down the center aisle toward the stage.

  The headmaster shook George warmly by the hand and said, “We are all so very proud of you, Mallory,” then waited for the boys to resume their seats before announcing, “I will now call upon David Elkington to address assembly.”

  The head boy rose from his place in the front row and walked up onto the stage. He unrolled a scroll and began to read.

  “Nos, scholae Carthusianae et pueri et magistri, te Georgium Leigh Mallory salutamus. Dilectus ad ducendum agmen Britannicum super Everest, tantos honores ad omnes Carthusianos iam tribuisti. Sine dubio, O virum optime, et maiorem gloriam et honorem in scholam tuam, in universitatem tuam et ad patriam.” We, the boys and masters of Charterhouse, salute George Leigh Mallory. You have honored all Carthusians by being chosen to lead the British assault on Everest. We are in no doubt, Sir, that you will bring further glory and honor to your school, your university, and your country.

  The head boy bowed before presenting the scroll to George. Once again, the whole school rose to their feet and let the senior history master know exactl