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man for another.

‘How did she respond to the whip?’ asked one like-minded fellowofficer.

‘Needed it in the home stretch to take us through to the finishline, old boy.’

One officer at the bar turned away in anger. Lieutenant Turnerlistened in dismay as the officers bayed and guffawed at Aston. He turned backjust in time to catch Aston’s eye. A sneer appeared on Aston’s lips.

‘You ready to take a beating, Turner old chap?’

‘We’ll see, Aston,’ replied Turner, rising from his seat. A smileappeared on Turner’s lips as he passed Aston. In fact, he was seething insideand desperate to get on the pitch and defeat a man he considered a scoundreland possibly worse.

‘Don’t get his back up, Aston,’ shouted one officer as they allbanged their tables in anticipation of the upcoming match and the clear rivalrybetween the two men.

Aston made a face to his fellow team members as Turner walkedpast. This brought chortles from the men. They all began to rise. It was timeto change and take to the field. The baying had ceased to be replaced by amurmur of excited chatter.

They followed Turner out of the bar. Aston felt a hand clap him onthe shoulder. This kind of familiarity irritated him immensely but he it was abad show to display anything but good-fellowship. He looked at the Brigadierand forced a smile.

‘I get the feeling Turner doesn’t like you, old fellow.’

‘One too many defeats, methinks,’ replied Aston.

‘I would have thought you tank boys would be thick as,’ pointedout the Brigadier.

‘I’m cavalry and always will be,’ replied Aston. A few of theother men overheard Aston and cheered their approval. The Brigadier decidednothing good was likely to come from a chat. He withdrew with a heavy heart. Anatmosphere like this in the bar was certain to be carried onto the pitch.

When they reached the changing room, an Egyptian man dressed in asuit smiled as the officers streamed through. He caught the attention of the Brigadier.

‘Sir, the umpires are waiting outside. The match is due to beginnow.’

‘Tell them they can bloody well wait all day as far as we’reconcerned. We’ll be out when we’re out.,’ interjected Aston before the Brigadiercould reply.

‘Here, here,’ said one of the officers. The Brigadier merelyraised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders to the downcast Egyptian. Heglanced at Aston as he walked past him and shook his head.

-

Aston led his team out towards the backline where the Egyptiangrooms were looking after the ponies. He was the team captain by virtue ofhaving the highest handicap. The only other player on the pitch with a handicapapproaching his was Turner. The other three players had lower handicaps whichmatched in aggregate that of the opposing team.

Overhead the sky was blue and cloudless. A slight breeze blew inAston’s face. Aside from the heat, it could have been in England. Then helooked at the grooms and a fairly motley selection of ponies. Perhaps not. Heclimbed on his horse with barely a nod at the groom who had been holding himfor the previous half an hour, melting in the heat, while they waited for theplayers to emerge.

The noise of a plane overhead caused a stir amongst the ponies.Aston didn’t bother looking up. He patted the neck of his horse and said, ‘Easyboy.’

The groom handed him a mallet and Aston trotted forward makingsome cursory warmups by swinging the polo stick round and round. He arrived atthe halfway line and lined up in front of Turner.

‘Been waiting long?’ asked Aston innocently. A half-smilefollowing this question.

Turner ignored him but could not avoid hearing the laughter fromAston’s colleagues. He gripped his mallet tightly and tried to calm himselfthrough his breathing. Moments later the umpire in the striped shirt threw theball into the middle. It barely hit the green turf before it was lost in amelee of clashing sticks, flailing arms and a hailstorm of hooves.

Moments later Edmund Aston was charging forward, his arm wind-millingto hit the ball. He was clear of the chasing pack. One more swing would see theball through the posts. He drew his arm back, and his arm began its downwarddescent, a mallet hooked into his. The crack of the sticks seemed deafening.Seconds later he had overrun the ball and a mad scramble began to recover it.

Aston glared angrily at Turner, who had denied him a clear scoringopportunity. Turner grinned and then took off in pursuit of the ball. With anoath, Aston kicked after the group who were disappearing up the pitch. However,he stopped as he saw one of his teammates bumping Turner from the line of theball.

‘That’s it, Basil, well done,’ shouted Aston. A few moments laterthe ball whistled past him and he gave chase. This time he made no mistake,carefully flicking the ball forward and sent it calmly between the posts.

Cheers went up from the watching crowd, most of whom were entirelyneutral and intent on getting completely drunk. The game restarted to the soundof two planes overhead.

-

By the fourth and final chukka, the match was all square. Thetemperature on the field had risen dramatically, however. The bad blood betweenAston and Turner spilled over and infected the other team members. Severalincidents shocked, or entertained, the crowd depending on the level of drinkconsumed. The Brigadier watched grimly as officers from the British Army seemedmore intent on inflicting injury on their opposite numbers than the AfrikaKorps.

He didn’t have to look too far to see where the blame lay. Oncemore Edmund Aston crossed the line of the ball which, in theory, incurred apenalty. However, his blatant disregard for both the rules of the game and itsetiquette had gone mostly unpunished by the Egyptian umpire. Had it been anyother player, the Brigadier would have been shocked. But not from Aston.

An unthinkable idea rose in the Brigadier’s mind. Unthinkable yetwhere Aston was concerned it was a possibility that could not be ignored. Had hebribed the officials to turn a blind eye to his team’s infractions?

The Brigadier had known Aston for eighteen months or more. He wasa regular patron of the Gezira when on leave and an outstanding polo player. However,there was another side to the

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