Chapter 23: Armityge

Two days after my marriage proposal had been rejected by Amy I was sitting alone in the Officers' Mess at Hounslow barracks. Most of the officers of the 69th Foot and 8th Dragoons had gone to watch a prize fight at Putney Green, and only a handful of duty men were in barracks. I was still in Amy's thrall, and was slowly coming to the opinion that it would not be dishonourable to continue our sexual relationship, at least up to the time of her marriage, but I could not in clear conscience continue the liaison after Amy had sworn her vows. However, I doubted that when she was married I would be able to just walk away and turn my back on the passionate delights she afforded me every time we lay together. I was attempting to justify to myself the circumventing of the morality involved when I heard a voice.

"You look like a man with a problem, Captain Greenaway, could you perhaps use another head to resolve it?"

I looked up to see Surgeon Major Armityge standing in front of me, a slight smile on his face.
Armityge was a strange sort of fellow. He was a more than able surgeon, besides being an excellent physician; there were many men alive in the battalion who owed their lives to his skills. Although generally affable he was also rather solitary, and he kept himself somewhat detached from the rest of the officers, spending much of his time in his surgery, where he conducted experiments and concocted medicines. His demeanour, and grave expression, gave him the appearance of an ascetic, and as far as the other members of the Mess were concerned he lived as celibate as a monk. He seldom entered into the hurly burly of life in the Mess, and for him to address anyone in such a convivial way was quite out of character.
He sat down before I could reply. I was sinking into a slough of despond and self-pity, and in the absence of Billy Bassett, who was spending more and more time with the widow Matilda, I welcomed the company.

"I doubt that even your head will be enough to resolve my problem."

"Tell me what your predicament is anyway, and who knows what a different view a new pair of eyes will see."

Armityge waved for a mess waiter to bring over a bottle of claret, and lit up one of the thin black cheroots he favoured.
Whether it was the several glasses of claret that I drank, or just the strangeness of having Armityge sitting beside me, but I told him everything of my relationship with Amy, including my drunken fornication with the tavern wench.
He looked at me for a moment, through the spiralling smoke of his cheroot, after I had finished telling him the tale

"Well, Captain Greenaway, it seems that you are a man of principle and honour, attributes that are lacking in many of your fellow officers."

He took a drink from his glass, and then continued.

"Of course, Miss Fairfax is correct in her denunciation of a system that turns a blind eye to those men who break their marriage vows, but calls women who do so 'whores' and worse. Yet we both know that women from the upper classes take lovers, as their husbands take mistresses, and so long as discretion is maintained the status quo is accepted. Our present society holds a duality of standards indeed. Miss Fairfax seems to be a female of spirit; she intends being the captain of her soul and destiny, and I have nothing but admiration for her. My advice, for what it is worth, is to continue your relationship until she marries. When, as will surely happen, her husband breaks his vows it will then be quite permissible for the lady to ignore hers."

It seemed a practicable and logical solution, but I couldn't believe that anyone married to such a desirable person as Amy would ever stray from her bed. I said as much to Armityge.

"Didn't you 'stray' from her, with the serving maid at the Bell?"

His argument was persuasive, and I decided to write to Amy, apologising for my hateful accusation and suggesting we meet and discuss the character of any future relationship between us. My black mood had lifted, now that I had some sort of solution to my dilemma, and I thanked Armityge profusely.

"Come now Jack, given time I'm sure you would have come up with an answer to your problem."
He hesitated "May I call you Jack? We have served together in the regiment for many years, and I feel we have earned the right to be more familiar with each other; in fact it was you who was instrumental in me joining the battalion!"

I was surprised at that information, and asked how that had come about, and I also asked how I should address him, as I had no idea of what his forenames might me.

Armityge smiled. "My forenames are Sebastian Paulo Ramakrishna, reflecting my mixed parentage, but my few close friends, of whom I hope I may now number you, know me as Krish. As for how I pitched up in the Second Sixty Ninth; well, you will need to know a little of my life. I hope you will permit me to tell you?"

I said I would be honoured, and I was certainly intrigued to learn more of this enigmatic man, who had suddenly become a friend.

Krish's father was an officer in the army of the Honourable East India Company, or 'John Company', as it was more widely known. Sebastian Armityge had gone out to India aged eighteen, as a cadet in the HEIC, and had prospered. Krish's mother was from Goa, a Portuguese enclave on the west coast of the sub-continent. Her father was the Portuguese deputy Governor of the colony, and her mother was a Hindoo princess, one of the many daughters of the Maharaja of Mysore. Krish's uncle was Mir Sadiq, an important man in the Kingdom of Mysore, and in fact he became the commander of the kingdom's army.

From an early age Krish was imbued with the culture of all three racial groups; British, Portuguese, and Hindoo, and spoke all three languages fluently by the age of six. His ayah, that is a wet nurse or nanny, was from an ancient Indian race, the Naga, who not only taught him how to recognise and use the local plants as medicine and potions, but also introduced him to the ancient Hindoo disciplines of yoga, and meditation. Krish was the only son of the marriage, although he had two younger sisters.

"I was always a solitary child, but was quite happy to be alone. I had a marvellous childhood, as I could go anywhere and do anything—-a hundred pairs of eyes were looking out for me, so no harm ever befell me."

Aged nine he was sent to England, to be educated in his father's old school of Harrow. At first he had a hard time of it, as a dusky skinned boy from the exotic orient. However bullies soon discovered that after dealing with Master Armityge they came down with violent and painful stomach upsets. It was said that he could cast spells, and he was given a wide berth and left alone.

"I had quickly learned of the medicinal properties of the indigenous plants, and prepared concoctions to punish my tormentors." Krish laughed. "My ayah had taught me the sleight of hand tricks that fakirs use, and I was never suspected of dosing their beverages."

Whilst at Harrow he met the boy who became his closest friend, Richard Davenport, the son of a well to do doctor of medicine who lived in Kent. Krish would spend the school holidays at Richard's home in Maidstone, and soon became a favourite of all the family. Doctor Davenport was impressed by the skill Krish showed as an apothecary, and he was allowed to watch when the doctor carried out small medical procedures, including some minor operations. By the time he was fifteen Krish had determined to become a doctor, and was sitting exams to go up to Oxford university when he was called home to India. His mother was dying of a lingering illness and he was required to return before she died.
Krish was at her bedside when she breathed her last, and in fact he had administered the draught that brought her a pain free death. It now seemed that Krish would stay in India, he could possibly make a living dispensing potions and medicines, but a career as a bone fide doctor looked beyond him.

Then fate took a hand with the outbreak of the 4th Anglo-Mysore war in 1798.