Strikers Instinct

Cover

“Enough!” The word snapped around the room like the crack from a whip. Immediately all sound and movement within the lecture hall stopped. At the head of the room the speaker rose to his feet.

“Mr. Linden, you have just ignored your last warning. Please leave the room and see me in my study in 30 minutes.”

A small group in the centre of the room parted to allow a tall young man an exit route to the door. “Professor Arkwright, please.” he began to plead.

“No more Mr. Linden, we will talk later, please leave now.” the Professor insisted.

The small group around Luke Linden began to grin and congratulate each other as he barged towards the door. As he slammed the door behind himself he heard the voice of his chief tormentor announce, “Good riddance to bad rubbish!”

“That will do Mr. Jeffers.” the professor murmured quietly. However the young man didn't heed the warning and rushed on.

“Lefty Linden doesn't deserve to be in the company of civilised people – he should get back north to his whippets and clogs!” Basil Jeffers' small group of cronies cheered and whooped but several others in the room looked uneasy.

“Yes indeed Mr. Jeffers, once again you and your cronies have succeeded – you poked the northern boar until he growled, you must be feeling very proud.”

Basil Jeffers spoke up once again. “Linden can't take a joke professor, it's an obvious sign of little or no breeding.”

The Professor smiled, “Of course Mr. Jeffers, given your background, you are an expert on the subject.”

Basil stared back at the professor, not fully understanding if he was being praised or damned.

“Ladies and gentlemen we have wasted enough time, back to the text please.”

Thirty minutes later the room emptied and Professor Arkwright made his way slowly through the twisting corridors to his private study. He didn't know if Luke Linden would be waiting there for him and was almost surprised to see the tall, tense young man pacing the floor outside his door.

“Come in and sit down!” the professor barked in his perfectly clipped Home Counties accent.

Once inside, the professor stared at the pathetic figure slouched in front of him for a few moments and then sighed. “Well, what's your excuse this time? Jeffers and his friends were being horrid to you again?”

Linden offered no reply. The professor went on. “You have been at this University for six weeks and in that time we have had endless complaints about you – and as your personal tutor I have been stuck with trying to deal with the sorry mess you have left behind.”

Linden finally spoke up. “It's pointless. This is just a gentlemen's club that I don't belong to. You and Jeffers and his friends all look down on me as some sort of inferior species and you won't rest until you see me out of here.”

The professor sighed again, pulled himself from his chair and drew himself up to his full height of just over five feet. He seemed to think for a while and then appeared to have come to a decision. “Come with me.” he said and then proceeded to lead Luke into a part of the University he hadn't seen before. They finally entered a dimly lit room which seemed to be some sort of gym.

The professor walked to a mat in the centre of the room and then turned to face Luke. “I wanted to bring you somewhere completely private so that I can tell you exactly what I think of you and then you can reply in whatever manner you like. Since the first day you arrived here you have deliberately set yourself at odds with everything this institution stands for. You play the part of the poor little northern boy being bullied by the brutal upper-class mob and frankly – it's all wearing a bit thin. Do you understand or would you like me to speak more slowly – or with smaller words?”

Luke started to smoulder and his cheeks flushed. The professor laughed. “I see I have hit the mark! Poor little northern scruff doesn't seem to like being told the truth by his betters!”

“Be careful little man,” Luke growled, “looks like I will be leaving here soon anyway so it won't cause me any more problems if I throw you out into the corridor.”

“Big words from a big tough northern thug. Except you are on your own now – no bully boy miners like your father and his rabble to back you up!”

The reference to his father pushed Luke over the edge and with a cry of rage he flung himself at the diminutive figure in the centre of the room. Seconds later he was flying through the air, coming to a halt with a crash as he hit the floor. Luke jumped to his feet and launched himself back at the professor only to find that once again he was being forced back onto the floor – this time to land face-first. A third time he advanced on his opponent, this time with slightly more caution but the result was again the same. This time however, as the professor flung him across the room he then quickly dropped onto Luke's prone body. The professor began to apply a choke hold which Luke couldn't break. Luke's ear was pulled closer to the professor's mouth.

Suddenly, a voice sounding like Peter Kay whispered into Luke's ear. “Now then, I bet thy feels like a right gormless clot!” Luke's eyes opened wide in surprise. The voice went on. “They always say that a good little un will always beat a good big un!”

The professor released Luke and sprang nimbly to his feet. He then reached down and offered Luke his hand. Luke was completely flummoxed. He allowed the professor to pull him to his feet and then stood there gasping and gawping.

“Hopefully,” the Professor said, “you have just learned not to judge a book by its covers. That could be the most important lesson you will ever learn. Now come over here and sit with me.”

Luke meekly followed the professor to the side of the room and sat facing him.

“Luke, you are at a crossroads in your life. You came to Oxford as a brilliant student but also with a huge chip on your shoulder. I am aware of your father's background but I'm fairly sure most other people in this university aren't. However, you seem to think that everyone is looking down on you. You rage against anyone you consider to be “upper-class” and then in turn they taunt and deride you. You even hate me – mainly I think because of the way I speak. However, a few moments ago I surprised you by speaking as I did many years ago. I also surprised you by turning your anger against you and easily defeating you on the mat.”

Luke was now more confused than ever. He seemed to have been ambushed by some kind of old, tiny, Lancashire Ninja!

The professor went on. “As I said earlier, there have been many complaints about your behaviour and the Dean asked me to speak to you. This is a serious situation – you could be asked to leave. However, there's always another way. You may not believe me but I know exactly how you feel. I was in a similar situation many years ago and until someone held out a hand of friendship to me I felt I had no hope. I am now holding out a similar hand to you – if you will take it?”

Luke finally smiled. “Well, if that was the hand of friendship, I would hate to meet the hand of confrontation!”

The professor laughed, “Sometimes actions speak louder than words. I have been studying martial arts for many years, more for the mental discipline than for anything else but it does come in handy occasionally. I knew I had to get your attention somehow.”

“You've certainly done that.” said Luke ruefully. “Well, I seem to have run out of options so I am willing to listen to whatever you say.”

“Excellent!” declared the professor. Then he paused for a moment whilst he gathered his thoughts.

“I've spoken to your other tutors and they all agree that you are a very bright young man who is also polite and courteous – until you become drawn into arguments and then all reason seems to go out of the window. You need to gain self-control and learn perspective of the world around you. I can help you if you wish but it will be hard work. Much of the work will take place in this room. This is a dojo and in here you will train your mind and your body. You will learn to think before you act and then to act in the appropriate way, Most importantly – you will learn the meaning of the word “Respect”.”

Luke didn't hesitate. He'd already admitted that he had run out of options and he had begun to discover a new found admiration for the professor. Also he realised that if this didn't work out at least he may be in a better condition to deal with Jeffers and his bunch!

“OK,” he said, “when do we start?”

“We've already started,” said the professor, “now I want you to meet someone.” He raised his hand and from the shadows at the end of the room a tall figure approached. “This is Alex, he's going to work with us. He was in a similar position to you last year, but from a slightly different angle.” Alex seemed genuinely pleased to meet Luke.

“The professor has told me all about you,” he said in a perfect cut glass accent. “so glad you decided to work with us, it should be fun!”

Luke grimaced. “I really have no idea what is going on here but now I have given my word – I will give this my best shot.”

“Well done my dear boy,” said the professor happily, “by the way I didn't give you Alex's full title – he is Lord Alexander DeCourt – the Duke of Beaucourt.”