Rebel Queen

by Michelle Moran

  The rani looked at Arjun, who couldn’t confirm or deny the story.

  “Stand,” she said.

  The man rose. His knees were shaking. “Captain Skene sent us for help. We need you, Your Highness. The rebels are going to kill us all. The women, the children . . .” His voice was rising to an hysterical pitch.

  The rani put her hand on his shoulder. “What would you have me do?”

  “Stop the rebels!”

  “I’m no longer the Rani of Jhansi.”

  The soldier was trembling. “Can’t you speak with them?”

  “I can. But I gave your captain advice and it wasn’t heeded. I told him to flee.”

  “He’ll listen now! Whatever you ask him to do, he’ll listen!”

  “I’ll speak with the rebels,” Moropant said.

  The soldier’s face seemed to transform itself. “Will you tell them to grant us safe passage? That’s all we want,” he swore. “Then we’ll all be on the first ship home. None of us asked to be here,” he said. “None of us want to be here at all!”

  But I thought of the Circular Memorandum and I felt very little sympathy for this man.

  “I will press whatever advantage I have,” Moropant promised. “For the sake of the women and children,” he clarified. “But you should return to the fort.”

  “They’ll kill me!”

  “No. I’ll be your guard.”

  The rani exchanged a look with her father. He led the man out the door, and the room was silent. I fanned myself with my hand. The windows had been thrown open to try to catch a breeze on such a sweltering day. At the Panch Mahal, long kusha grass shades would have blocked out the sun, but there was nothing like that here. Just painted wooden shutters.

  “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” Arjun asked. “Shall I go into the marketplace and see what I can learn?”

  The rani nodded.

  An hour later, Arjun returned. “Your father escorted Johnson back to Town Fort. That was his name. The other three—Purcell, Andrews, and Scott—were killed, just as he said. The assault is planned for tomorrow.”

  “And?” the rani asked. “What will happen to the English?”

  “Safe passage,” Arjun said. “There are women and children inside. Safe passage will be granted.”

  “You heard them say this?”

  “I heard General Khan make the promise to your father.”

  I thought this would ease the rani’s concerns, but she still looked troubled.

  The next morning, the rebels surrounded Town Fort, as promised. The English were marched to Jokhan Bagh, a large garden just beyond Jhansi’s city walls. There, all sixty-six of them were killed, including Captain Skene, Dr. McEgan, Mrs. McEgan, and all the tiny children we used to watch running through the fortress. A celebratory group of rebels made their way to the Rani Mahal and demanded to be let in through the gates. When the guards didn’t put up a fight, we secured the doors and listened through the heavy metal and wood as they shouted in the courtyard, demanding to see the Rani of Jhansi at once.

  “She isn’t going to risk appearing, is she?” I worried.

  “I don’t know,” Jhalkari said. “She’s not afraid of many things.”

  Arjun and the other male guards were with us, weapons poised, in case any of the rebels should get the idea to force open the doors. I drew back an arrow, the bowstring tight and ready.

  “Send out the Rani of Jhansi!” someone shouted, and then one of the men began a chant. “Rani! Rani!” They shouted it over and over until a sudden break in the noise told me that above us, the rani had appeared. A sudden cheer went up, as deliriously happy as it had been angry just moments earlier.

  “Come down!” someone shouted, and this time, the men cheered and sounded ecstatic.

  There were footsteps on the wooden stairs behind us, then the rani appeared in a white Chanderi sari with a red crescent moon painted on her forehead. On her waist, she carried a sword, and behind her, a shield. She was dressed like a soldier. After all, her father had trained her as one.

  “Open the doors,” she said.

  Arjun and the other men hesitated, but she repeated her command.

  “How many men shall escort you?” Arjun asked.

  “None. I want three Durgavasi behind me. Sundari, Kahini, and Sita.”

  Arjun knew better than to question this. Sundari was armed with her weapon of choice—a pistol—while I carried my bow and Kahini her knives. We fell into position behind the rani. Then the doors opened, and the shocked rebels stepped back. I could hear their sharp intake of breath, as the realization hit them that this woman in soldier’s dress had once been their queen.

  “What would you like of me?” she demanded.

  At first, no one said anything. Then one by one the rebels fell to their knees. At last, one stood and addressed her personally. “Your Highness!” He raised his fist in the air, and I could see that his arm was covered with blood. I stepped closer to get a better look, and it appeared that his hair and heavy beard were matted with blood as well. “The rebellion has begun with the lives of sixty-six Englishmen! General Khan gave orders to kill them all, and we obeyed, beginning with Captain Skene.”

  “Did you spare the women and children?” the rani asked. I could hear her strain to hide her disgust.

  “No one was spared.” He said this with pride assuming she’d agree with General Khan’s decision. “Captain’s Browne’s sister was screaming,” he said. “Begging for her life, throwing herself into the arms of a sepoy so they would have to kill him as well as her. But he detached himself and threw her to the hungry knives. One of them called your name,” he said. “A pretty doctor’s wife. She pleaded for us to spare her husband, and when we killed him, she cast her body on top of his.”

  “Then she’s—”

  “Killed with the rest of them.”

  I thought of Mrs. McEgan, with her pretty blond curls and sea-blue eyes, and then I imagined her covered in blood and felt sick.

  “What will be done with the bodies?” the rani said. Her voice was dead, as if she’d removed herself from this reality the same way you might separate yourself from unpleasant company by going into a different room.

  The man shrugged. “Let them rot. This country belongs to us!” he shouted.

  The other men took up the cry.

  “We are marching to Delhi,” the rebel said. “We will restore the emperor to power and strike these Englishmen where they least expect it!”

  “Then Durga protect you,” the rani replied, but she might have been saying to watch out for rain for all the emotion that was in her words. The rani returned to the mahal, and we remained at the doors, trying to shut them before the mob grew violent and wanted more.

  “Stand back!” Kahini snapped as the men pressed forward. “Or the rani will tell you what she truly thinks of your rebellion.”

  “And what is that?” one of the men asked.

  “That you are a bunch of dogs versus lions,” she accused as Arjun yanked the doors shut and lowered the bar.

  “Why would you say that?” he shouted.

  Kahini looked him in the eyes, and if you have ever come face-to-face with a feral animal, then you have already met her gaze.

  The damage was done. Word would spread like disease through the rebel camps. And now they would believe a lie. The rani’s position was precarious. Unless she remained neutral, her life and that of her son’s would be in danger.

  We didn’t tell the rani what happened, but Arjun and I kept a careful watch over Kahini after this. When evening came, I quietly followed her to Gopal’s chamber and stood outside the door while they spoke in hushed tones. “I want you to give this to my parents,” she said. “Tell them I am well, and there is nothing to worry about.”

  Kahini didn’t have any parents. Her mother had died in
childbirth with her, and her father had died several years later. Gopal said sternly, “I don’t see why I should give this to him.”

  “Them!” she hissed. “Give them this sapphire ring. And remember our deal.”

  Obviously, the ring in question wasn’t destined for her parents. But who?

  “I missed you last night,” Gopal said. There was longing in his voice.

  “I miss a great many things, including the Panch Mahal.” Then Kahini’s voice softened. It was like listening to another person altogether. “There are bigger things to worry over right now,” she said. “Give it time.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  I heard a smacking sound, like lips on flesh, and my stomach turned.

  The rani’s father believed a letter should be written to the British at once, explaining that the rani had no role whatsoever in the massacre; that, in fact, she had tried to prevent it by telling Captain Skene to leave the fortress. But most of her advisers were of the opinion that all of the letters in the world weren’t going to persuade the British that the rani hadn’t been an accomplice. And if the British were going to condemn her as a rebel, she might as well publicly join them.

  It was decided she would write the letter.

  She dictated what she wanted me to write, and then I translated it to English and read it back to her. When she was satisfied she had covered all of the details, she sealed it and called for Gopal.

  Then there was banging at the door, and Arjun’s voice. “Your Highness, there is an army approaching!”

  My fingers went at once to my bow as he burst into the room.

  “The guards are saying they’re from Unao. About five kos from here. A man named Sadashiv Narayan is leading them, and says he’s come to lay claim to the throne.”

  I saw the color drain from the rani’s face. “A Newalkar relative,” she said.

  “There are between two and three thousand men. Their plan is to install this Sadashiv Narayan on your throne and then make their way to Delhi.”

  The rani was already out the door. I followed her and Arjun to the Durbar Hall, where a call was raised for everyone to prepare. “We will not give this palace to rebels,” she said. “Sundari, take the Durgavasi to the first floor. Kashi, guard Anand in my chamber. Arjun, take your guards to the courtyard. These men believe they’re going to put someone on the throne who opposes the British more than I do. The British will kill him before the harvest is finished.”

  There was a flurry of activity in the mahal, and I took up a position next to Jhalkari on the first floor. I had my arrow aimed out the window at the gates, so that the first rebel to pass through would be shot through the heart. I could not keep three thousand men at bay, but many would die before making their way into the courtyard.

  We stood in silence as the sound of the approaching army grew nearer. I could hear men’s voices carried on the wind, along with the odd burst of gunfire. If you have ever waited for something terrifying, then you know that expectation can be worse than the actual thing.

  “I’m going out to meet them,” the rani said.

  “No!” Kahini lowered her bow and stood in front of the rani. “They’ll kill you!”

  “Come with me then. If that’s what they’ve come to do, none of us are going to stop them for very long,” the rani said.

  Kahini was actually trembling. I’d never seen her express such concern for the rani. Her face was pale, but she led the way out the door, then to the gates. You could see Arjun’s surprise, but he nodded slowly and said something I couldn’t hear. Then he joined the women, and the three of them left the courtyard and the soldiers closed the gates behind them.

  I kept my arrow ready as the rebels appeared, thousands upon thousands of them dressed in no particular fashion. These were men who had come from both cities and villages, probably joining the march as it went. It was impossible not to hear their raised voices now, some of them shouting for the rani’s death. But as the sun began to set, igniting the sky in a blaze of oranges and reds, their voices grew more muted. Then there was silence. Finally, the gates swung open and the rani appeared again with Kahini and Arjun walking quickly behind her.

  Kahini said, “They’re leaving.” Her face was expressionless.

  “Arjun convinced them that the men in this city are loyal to me and me alone,” the rani explained. “They will continue to Delhi. They’re also asking for a bag of jewels,” she continued. “Someone will need to bring it to them.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kahini said swiftly.

  “Someone should go with her,” Sundari said.

  “It isn’t necessary,” Kahini replied.

  “Two women should go,” the rani decided, and I found myself volunteering.

  We waited for the rani to bring down a pouch filled with loose emeralds and rubies. Then I followed Kahini through the courtyard. Arjun didn’t approve, but he instructed his men to open the gates, and we stepped into a mass of reeking bodies and ill-dressed men. They had been marching all day in the heat, without a bath or food or likely much water. Kahini raised her voice and asked to see the one they called Sadashiv Narayan. When he stepped up, I saw that he was a good-looking man, tall, with hair to his shoulders and a well-groomed mustache. I thought he was probably twenty-five or thirty. He held out his hand, and I was shocked to see Kahini brush his fingers as she handed over the bag.

  “Thank you,” he said. He emptied the contents into his hand, then I thought I saw him slip something into the bag; something blue and gold, possibly a ring with a sapphire. “I don’t need this,” he said, giving her back the velvet pouch.

  “I’ll take it back to the rani then,” she said.

  Their eyes never met.

  I said nothing, but later, when the others were eating, I hurried to our chambers on the first floor and searched through Kahini’s chest. There, wrapped in several layers of blue silk, was a sapphire ring. Why would Gopal send this to Sadashiv Narayan, a pretender to the rani’s throne? Should I go to Sundari? Or maybe the rani herself? There was the sound of footsteps behind me. I held my breath, preparing to hear somebody shriek.

  “What are you doing?”

  I exhaled. It was only Jhalkari. I slipped the ring in my pocket without thinking. “I had a hunch,” I said.

  “About Kahini’s belongings?”

  “Yes.” The other women were coming in. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  In reporting on this event to Parliament, Earl Stanley has called what’s happening throughout India a mutiny, and the British newspapers are stating this as well,” the messenger said.

  “It can only be a mutiny if we’re British citizens!” the rani’s father exclaimed.

  The messenger glanced nervously in Moropant’s direction, but the rani waved her hand for him to continue. “Please.”

  “As . . . as a leader of this mutiny,” the man said, “a warrant has been issued for your arrest. It calls for Your Highness to be hanged in Fort William. I’m sorry,” he whispered. There were tears in the man’s eyes, and his hands shook as he offered her the letter.

  Moropant removed himself from the chamber. In light of such news, it hardly even mattered what the second messenger had to say. But he stepped forward, and pressed his hands together in namaste.

  “Yes?” the rani said quietly.

  “I’m afraid I’ve come with more bad news, Your Highness.”

  “Go on.”

  “Sadashiv Narayan has taken over the nearby Fortress of Karhera and held an enthronement ceremony for himself. He’s appointing his own officials, and has sent out an official announcement about taxes.”

  If it hadn’t come on the heels of such bad news from England, it might have been comical. But the part about taxes was more than the rani could bear. I could see her resolve beginning to crumble when the doors of the
hall suddenly opened and her father returned.

  “For the Rani of Jhansi!” Moropant said, waving a document.

  We all stared at him, wondering what could possibly account for his sudden change in mood. Then he produced a kharita and handed it to me.

  “It’s from Major Erskine,” I said. I read as fast as I could. “And they’re requesting that you take charge of the kingdom of Jhansi on behalf of the British government.”

  Everyone in the room was overcome with joy. Some of the Durgavasi even began to weep. But I suspected the British and their motives. They simply needed someone to keep the peace until they could return to power here.

  “So what will your first act be?” Moropant said.

  “To go to Karhera and arrest this pretender.”

  It took exactly two hours for the rebels to give up Sadashiv Narayan. We returned to the Panch Mahal shortly after. Armed guards escorted the prisoner to the Durbar Hall, where the rani handed him a sentence of death. At this, Kahini grew hysterical.

  “Please,” she begged. “Send him to prison. Don’t take his life!”

  “Kahini,” the rani hissed. “What’s the matter with you? Do you know this man?”

  “Yes. We grew up together in the same court in Unao.”

  I thought immediately of the letter Gopal accidentally handed to me. It had been signed “S.” For Sadashiv. So this was Kahini’s lover. I looked at the tall, handsome man in the open vest who had been raised at court with Kahini. How had she deceived Gopal into delivering her letters to him?

  Across the hall, Arjun frowned at me. I shook my head. I had no idea. Was Kahini a traitor? Had she been preparing Sadashiv to march on Jhansi, then sent her ring as proof that the right time had come?

  The rani and Kahini stepped outside to speak privately. When they returned, Kahini looked composed, and a tense knot formed in my stomach. She had gotten her way because I’d kept the contents of the letter and the suspicious ring a secret from the rani.

  I watched the rani take her throne. She said, “Sadashiv, you are a foolish but lucky man.”