Page 107 of Paths of Glory

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No foes shall stay his might, though he with giants fight

When Ruth opened the front door, the first thing she saw lying on the mat was an envelope, addressed to her in George’s unmistakable hand. She picked it up, painfully aware that it must be his last letter. She walked through to the drawing room and poured herself what George would have called “a stiff whiskey” before taking her seat in the winged chair by the window. She looked up at the driveway, somehow still expecting George to come striding through the gates and take her in his arms.

He will make good his right to be a pilgrim

Ruth tore open the envelope, took out the letter, and began to read her husband’s last words.

June 7th, 1924

My darling,

I’m sitting in a tiny tent some 27,300 feet above sea level, and almost 5,000 miles from my homeland, seeking the paths of glory. Even if I were to find them, it would be as nothing, if I am unable to share the moment with you.

I should not have needed to travel halfway round the world to discover that without you I am nothing, as many less fortunate men with envy in their eyes have oft reminded me, and they do not know the half. Ask any one of them what he would sacrifice for that first moment of passion to last a lifetime, and he would tell you half his days, because no such woman exists. They are wrong. I have found that woman, and nothing will ever take her place, certainly not this ice-cold virgin that slumbers above me.

Some men boast of their conquests. The truth is, I’ve had but one, as I loved you from the moment I first saw you. You are my waking morning, you are my setting sun.

And if that were not enough, I still marvel at my good fortune, for I have been thrice blessed.

The first blessing came on the day you became my wife and agreed to share the rest of your life with me. That night you became my lover, and since have become my closest friend.

The second blessing came when you unselfishly encouraged me to fulfill my wildest dream, always allowing my head to remain in the clouds while you, somehow, managed with wisdom and common sense to keep your feet firmly on the ground.

And thrice you have blessed me with a wonderful family, who continue to bring unending joy to my life, although there are never enough minutes in each day to share their laughter and brush away their tears. I often regret depriving myself of so much of their brief years of childhood.

Clare will follow me to Cambridge, where she will not only outwit untested men, but when put to the test herself will surely succeed where I failed. Beridge has been gifted with your grace and charm, growing daily in your image so that when she blossoms into a woman, many men will bend low to seek her hand, but for me, none will be worthy. And as for little John, I cannot wait to read his first school report, watch his first football match, and be by his side when he has to face up to what he imagines to be his first disaster.

My darling, there is so much more that I want to say, but my hand grows shaky, and the flickering candle reminds me that I still have some purpose on the morrow

, when I intend to place your photograph on the highest point on earth so that I might exorcise this demon forever, and finally return to the only woman I have ever loved.

I can see you at The Holt, sitting in your winged chair by the window, reading this letter, and smiling as you turn each page. Look up, my darling, for at any moment you will see me march through those gates and come striding down the path toward you. Will you leap up and rush to greet me, so that I can take you in my arms and never leave your side again?

Forgive me for having taken so long to realize that you are more important to me than life itself.

Your loving husband,

George

At the same time every day for the rest of her life, Ruth Mallory would sit in the winged chair by the window and re-read her husband’s letter.

On her deathbed, she told her children that not a day had passed when she hadn’t seen George march through those gates and come striding down the path toward her.

POST 1924

George Leigh Mallory

George’s body was discovered on May 1st, 1999, at 26,760 feet. The photo of his wife Ruth was not in his wallet and there was no sign of a camera. To this day, the climbing fraternity are divided as to whether he was the first person to conquer Everest. Few doubt that he was capable of doing so.

Andrew “Sandy” Irvine

When Irvine’s death was announced in The Times, three women came forward claiming to be engaged to him.

Despite several expeditions in search of his body, it has not been found. However, in 1975 a Chinese mountaineer, Xu Jing, told a colleague that he’d come across a body, which he described as “the English dead,” frozen in a narrow gully at 27,230 feet. A few days later, before he could be questioned more closely, Xu Jing was killed by an avalanche.

Ruth Mallory

After George’s death, Ruth and the children remained in Surrey, where Ruth spent the rest of her life. She died of breast cancer in 1942, aged fifty.


Tags: Jeffrey Archer Fiction