Read Online Paths of Glory by Jeffrey Archer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeffrey Archer
Tags: Biographical, Biographical fiction, Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Fiction - General, Historical, Historical - General, Sagas, english, Family, Sports & Recreation, Families, Men, Soldiers, English Historical Fiction, Ambition in men, Mountaineers, Historical fiction; English, Archer, Mallory, 1886-1924, Jeffrey - Prose & Criticism, Mountaineering, Mallory; George, George
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cross-legged, facing each other. They warmed their hands while they waited for the water to boil, a slow process when you’re halfway up a mountain. George placed two mugs on the ground while Finch ripped the wrapping off a bar of Kendal Mint Cake, broke it in half and passed a chunk across to his climbing partner.
The previous day, the two of them had stood together on the summit of Mont Maudit and stared up at Mont Blanc, a mere 2,000 feet above them, wondering if they would be looking down from its peak tomorrow.
George checked his watch: 7:35 P.M . By now Geoffrey Young would be taking the rest of the team through tomorrow’s program, having informed them who would be joining him on the final ascent. The water boiled.
“This has been quite a remarkable week for climbing,” continued Young. “In fact, I would go so far as to say that it has been among the most memorable of my career, which only makes my selection of who will join me for the attack on the summit tomorrow all the more difficult. I am painfully aware that some of you have waited years for this opportunity, but more than one of you has to be disappointed. As you are all well aware, reaching the summit of Mont Blanc is not technically difficult for an experienced climber—unless, of course, he attempts it from the Courmayeur side. He paused.
“The climbing party will consist of five men: myself, Somervell, Odell, Mallory, and Finch. We will set out at four o’clock tomorrow morning, and press on to 15,400 feet, where we will rest for two hours. If that capricious mistress, the weather, allows us, the final team of three will make an attempt on the summit.
“Odell and Somervell will descend to the Grand Mulets hut at 13,400 feet, where Somervell will await the return of the final party.”
“Triumphant return,” said Somervell magnanimously, although he and Odell could barely conceal their frustration at not having been chosen for the assault on the summit.
“Let’s hope so,” said Young. “I know how disappointed some of you must feel not to be selected for the climbing party, but never forget that without a back-up team it wouldn’t be possible to conquer any mountain, and every member of the team will have played his part. Should tomorrow’s attempt fail for any reason, I shall be inviting Odell and Somervell to join me later in the week when we will make a second attempt on the summit.” The two men smiled slightly ruefully, as if they’d won a silver medal at the Olympic Games. “There is nothing more for me to say, other than to tell you who I have chosen to join me for the final ascent.”
George removed a glove, unscrewed the jar of Bovril and dropped a spoonful of the thick brown substance into the mugs. Finch added the hot water and stirred until he was sure there was nothing left on the bottom before he handed George his drink. George broke a second bar of Kendal Mint Cake and passed the larger portion across to Finch. Neither spoke while they savored their gourmet meal.
It was George who eventually broke the silence. “I wonder who Young will pick.”
“You’re certain to be selected,” said Finch, warming his hands around his mug. “But I don’t know who else he’ll choose out of Odell, Somervell, and me. If he picks the best climber, then the final place is mine.”
“Why wouldn’t he pick the best climber?”
“I’m not an Oxford or Cambridge man, old boy,” said Finch, mimicking his companion’s accent.
“Young’s no snob,” said George. “He won’t let that influence his decision.”
“We could of course pre-empt that decision,” suggested Finch with a grin.
George looked puzzled. “What do you have in mind?”
“We could set out for the summit first thing in the morning, and then sit around waiting to see which of them joins us.”
“It would be a pyrrhic victory,” George suggested as he drained his drink.
“A victory’s a victory,” said Finch. “Ask any Epirote how he feels
The previous day, the two of them had stood together on the summit of Mont Maudit and stared up at Mont Blanc, a mere 2,000 feet above them, wondering if they would be looking down from its peak tomorrow.
George checked his watch: 7:35 P.M . By now Geoffrey Young would be taking the rest of the team through tomorrow’s program, having informed them who would be joining him on the final ascent. The water boiled.
“This has been quite a remarkable week for climbing,” continued Young. “In fact, I would go so far as to say that it has been among the most memorable of my career, which only makes my selection of who will join me for the attack on the summit tomorrow all the more difficult. I am painfully aware that some of you have waited years for this opportunity, but more than one of you has to be disappointed. As you are all well aware, reaching the summit of Mont Blanc is not technically difficult for an experienced climber—unless, of course, he attempts it from the Courmayeur side. He paused.
“The climbing party will consist of five men: myself, Somervell, Odell, Mallory, and Finch. We will set out at four o’clock tomorrow morning, and press on to 15,400 feet, where we will rest for two hours. If that capricious mistress, the weather, allows us, the final team of three will make an attempt on the summit.
“Odell and Somervell will descend to the Grand Mulets hut at 13,400 feet, where Somervell will await the return of the final party.”
“Triumphant return,” said Somervell magnanimously, although he and Odell could barely conceal their frustration at not having been chosen for the assault on the summit.
“Let’s hope so,” said Young. “I know how disappointed some of you must feel not to be selected for the climbing party, but never forget that without a back-up team it wouldn’t be possible to conquer any mountain, and every member of the team will have played his part. Should tomorrow’s attempt fail for any reason, I shall be inviting Odell and Somervell to join me later in the week when we will make a second attempt on the summit.” The two men smiled slightly ruefully, as if they’d won a silver medal at the Olympic Games. “There is nothing more for me to say, other than to tell you who I have chosen to join me for the final ascent.”
George removed a glove, unscrewed the jar of Bovril and dropped a spoonful of the thick brown substance into the mugs. Finch added the hot water and stirred until he was sure there was nothing left on the bottom before he handed George his drink. George broke a second bar of Kendal Mint Cake and passed the larger portion across to Finch. Neither spoke while they savored their gourmet meal.
It was George who eventually broke the silence. “I wonder who Young will pick.”
“You’re certain to be selected,” said Finch, warming his hands around his mug. “But I don’t know who else he’ll choose out of Odell, Somervell, and me. If he picks the best climber, then the final place is mine.”
“Why wouldn’t he pick the best climber?”
“I’m not an Oxford or Cambridge man, old boy,” said Finch, mimicking his companion’s accent.
“Young’s no snob,” said George. “He won’t let that influence his decision.”
“We could of course pre-empt that decision,” suggested Finch with a grin.
George looked puzzled. “What do you have in mind?”
“We could set out for the summit first thing in the morning, and then sit around waiting to see which of them joins us.”
“It would be a pyrrhic victory,” George suggested as he drained his drink.
“A victory’s a victory,” said Finch. “Ask any Epirote how he feels
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