The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection

by George MacDonald Fraser

  “Where the hell d’you think you’re goin’, Nolan?” It was the Dragoon corporal, just behind. “Keep in file!”

  Nolan! That had been the name Moyes had spoken – oh, God, it was him, right enough.

  I daren’t look round; I’d give myself away for certain. I must just ride on, chatting to Parkes as though nothing had happened, and God knows what I said, or how much farther we rode, for I was aware of nothing except that my cowardly sins had found me out at last. You may think I was in a great stew over nothing – what had the great Flashy to fear from the memory of a mere lout of a trooper, after all? A hell of a deal, says I, as you’ll see.

  But if I was in a state of nervous funk for the rest of the day, I remember the business we did well enough. At Tang-chao, we met the great Prince I, the Emperor’s cousin, a tall, skinny crow of a Manchoo in gorgeous green robes, with all his nails cased; he looked at us as if we were dirt, and when Parkes said we hoped the arrangements agreed for Elgin’s entry to Pekin were still satisfactory to their side, he hissed like an angry cat.

  “Nothing can be discussed until the barbarian leader has withdrawn his presumptuous request for an audience with the Son of Heaven, and begged our pardon! He does not come to Pekin!”

  Parkes, to my surprise, just smiled at him as though he were a child and said they must really talk about something important. Elgin was going to Pekin, and the Emperor would receive him. Now, then …

  At this Prince I went wild, spitting curses, calling Parkes a foreign cur and reptile and I don’t know what, and Parkes just smiled away and said Elgin would be there, and that was that. And in this way the time passed until (it’s a fact) six o’clock, when Prince I had cursed himself hoarse. Then Parkes got up, repeated for the four hundredth time that Elgin was going to Pekin – and suddenly Prince I said, very well, with a thousand cavalry, as agreed. Then in double time he and Parkes settled the wording of a proclamation informing the public that peace and harmony were the order of the day, and we retired to the quarters that had been prepared for us, and had dinner.

  “Who said the Chinese were negotiators!” scoffs Parkes. “The man’s a fool and a fraud.”

  “He caved in very suddenly,” says Loch. “D’you trust him?”

  “No, but I don’t need to. Their goose is cooked, Loch, and they know it, and because they can’t abide it, they squeal like children in a tantrum. And if he goes back on his word tomorrow, it doesn’t matter – because the Big Barbarian is going to Pekin, anyway.”

  It was arranged that in the morning, while De Normann and Bowlby (who wanted some copy for his rag) would stay in Tang-chao with Anderson and the sowars, the rest of us would return to the army, Parkes and Loch to report to Elgin, Walker and I to guide them to the camp site. The others turned in early, except for Parkes, who had invited one of the lesser mandarins over for a chat, so I retired to the verandah to rehearse my anxieties for the umpteenth time, able to sweat and curse in private at last.

  Nolan knew me. What would he say – what could he say? Suppose he told the shameful truth, would anyone believe him? Never. But why should he say anything – dammit, he’d grovelled, too … I went all through my horrid fears again and again, pacing in the dark little garden away from the house, chewing my cheroot fiercely. What would he say –

  “A foine evenin’, colonel,” was what, in fact, he said, and I spun round with an oath. There he was, by the low wall at the garden foot – standing respectfully to attention, rot him, the trooper out for an evening stroll, greeting his superior with all decorum. I choked back a raging question, and forced myself to say nonchalantly:

  “Why, I didn’t see you there, my man. Yes, a fine evening.”

  I hoped to God it was too shadowy for him to see me trembling. I lit another cheroot, and he moved forward a step.

  “Beg pardon, sorr … don’t ye remember me?”

  I had myself in hand now. “What? You’re one of the dragoons, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sorr. I mean afore that, sorr.” He had one of those soft, whiny, nut-at-ahl Irish brogues which I find especially detestable. “Whin I wuz in the 44th – afore dey posted me to the Heavies. Shure, an’ it’s just a month since – I think ye mind foine.”

  “Sorry, my boy,” says I pleasantly, my heart hammering. “I don’t know much of the 44th, and I certainly don’t know you.” I gave him a nod. “Good-night.”

  I was turning away when his voice stopped me, suddenly soft and hard together. “Oh, but ye do, sorr. An’ I know you. An’ we both know where it wuz. At Tang-ku, when Moyes got kilt.”

  What should an innocent man say to that? I’ll tell you: he turns sharp, frowning, bewildered. “When who was killed? What the devil are you talking about? Are you drunk, man?”

  “No, sorr, I’m not drunk! Nor I wuzn’t drunk then! You wuz in the yard at Tang-ku whin they made us bow down to yon Chink bastard –”

  “Silence! You’re drunker than David’s sow! You’re raving! Now, look here, my lad – you cut along to your billet and I’ll say no more –”

  “Oh, but ye will! Ye will dat!” He was shaking with excitement. “But first ye’ll listen! For I know, ye see, an’ I can say plenty more –”

  “How dare you!” I forced myself to bark. “You insolent rascal! I don’t know what you’re talking about, or what your game is, but another word from you and I’ll get you a bloody back for your damned insolence, d’ye hear?” I towered, outraged, glaring like a colonel. “I’m a patient man, Nolan, but …”

  It was out before I knew it, and he saw the blunder as soon as I did. The eyes bulged with triumph in his crimson face.

  “Whut’s dat? Nolan, d’ye say? An’ if ye don’t know me, how the hell d’ye know me name, den?”

  In fact, I’d heard his corporal use it that day, but in my panic I remembered only Moyes at the grog-cart. I was speechless, and he rattled on excitedly:

  “It wuz you! By the Virgin, it wuz you in that yard, crawlin’ wid the rest on us, me an’ the coolies – iveryone but Moyes! I didn’t know yez from Rafferty’s pig – till I seed ye in the lines, two days since, an’ rec’nised ye! I did that! An’ I asked the boys: ‘Who’s dat?’ They sez: ‘Shure, an’ dat’s Flash Harry, the famous Afghan hero, him that wan the Cross at Lucknow, an’ kilt all the Ruskis, an’ that. Shure, ’tis the bravest man in th’Army, so it is.’ Dat’s whut they said.” He paused, getting his breath back in his excitement, and for the life of me I could only mouth at him. He stepped closer, breathing whisky at me. “An’ I sez nuthin’, but I thinks, is that a fact, now? ’Cos I seen him when he wuzn’t bein’ so bloody heroical, lickin’ a Chinese nigger’s boots an’ whinin’ fer his life!”

  If I’d been heeled, I’d have shot him then and there, and damn the consequences. For there was no doubt he had me, or where he was going. He nodded, bright-eyed, and licked his coarse lips.

  “Aye, so I got to studyin’. An’ whut d’ye think? Sez I to meself, ‘Shure, whut a hell of a pity it’d be, if this wuz to get about, like.’ In the Army, ye know? I mean – even if iveryone said, och, it’s just Paddy Nolan lyin’ again – d’ye not think there’s some might believe the shavea, eh? There’d be questions, mebbe; there might even be wan hell of a scandal.” He shook his head, leering. “Talk, colonel. Ugly talk. Ye know what I mean? Bad for the credit o’ th’Army. Aye, a bloody back’s a sore thing, so it is – but it heals faster’n a blown reppitation.” He paused a moment. “I’d think, meself, it’d be worth keepin’ quiet. Wouldn’t you, colonel?”

  I could bluster still – or not. Better not; it would be a waste of time. This was a cunning swine; if he spread his story as well as he’d summed it up, I was done for, disgraced, ruined. I knew my Army, you see, and the jealousies and hatreds under the hearty grins. Oh, I didn’t lack for enemies who’d delight in sniffing it all out, prying till they found Carnac, compared dates, put two and two together – where had I been on August 13, eh? Even if I could bluff it away, the mud would stick. And this
sly peasant could see clear through; he knew he didn’t have to prove a thing, that being guilty I’d be ready to fork out to prevent any breath of rumour –

  “Sir Harry! Are you there?” It was Parkes’s voice, calling sharply from the verandah twenty yards away; his figure was silhouetted against the glow from the house. “Sir Harry?”

  Nolan took a swift step back into the shadows. “’Tis another word we’ll be havin’ tomorrow, colonel – eh?” he whispered. “Until den.” I heard his soft chuckle as I turned to the house, still stricken dumb, with Parkes crying: “Ah, there you are! Care for a nightcap?”

  How much sleep I got you may imagine. I couldn’t defy the brute – the question was whether it was safer to pay squeeze and risk his blabbing another day, or kill him and try to make it look accidental. That was how desperate I was, and it was still unresolved when we saddled up at dawn to ride back to the army. As the party fell in under the trees, a sudden reckless devil took hold of me, and I told the dragoon corporal I’d inspect the escort; Parkes cocked an amused eyebrow at this military zeal, while the corporal bawled his troopers into mounted line. I rode slowly along, surveying each man carefully while they sweated in the sun; I checked one for a loose girth, asked the youngest how long he’d been in China, and came to Nolan on the end, staring red-faced to his front. A fly settled on his cheek, and his lip twitched.

  “Let it be, my boy,” says I, jocular-like. “If a fly can sit still, so can you. Name and service?”

  “Nolan, sorr. Twelve years.” His brow was running wet, but he sat like a statue, wondering what the hell I was about.

  “Trahnsferred las’ month, sir, when 44th went dahn to Shang’ai,” says the corporal. “Cavalry trained, tho’; in the Skins, I b’lieve.”

  “Why’d you transfer, Nolan?” I asked idly, and he couldn’t keep his voice steady.

  “If ye please, sorr … I … I tuk a fancy to see Pee-kin, sorr.”

  “Looking for excitement, eh?” I smiled. “Capital! Very good, corporal – form up.”

  If you ask what I was up to … why, I was taking a closer look by daylight – and unsettling the bastard; it never hurts. But it was a wasted effort, for in the next hour everything changed, and even disgrace and reputation ceased to matter … almost.

  The road had been empty coming up, but from the moment we left Tang-chao we were aware of a steady movement of Imperial troops – a few odd platoons and half-sections at first, and then larger numbers, not only on the road but in the paddy and millet-fields either side. What seemed most odd, they were moving in the same direction as ourselves – towards our army. I didn’t like the look of ’em above half, but there was nothing to do but forge ahead. We rode at a steady canter for about an hour, past increasing numbers, and when we came to Chang-kia-wan, about half-way home, the town was thick with them, and there was no doubt of it: we were in the middle of a thumping big Imperial army. Parkes wanted to stop to make inquiries, the ass, but as senior officer I wouldn’t allow it, and we cantered out of the place – and had to skirt the road to pass a full regiment of Bannermen, great ugly devils in bamboo armour who scowled and shouted abuse at us as we thundered by.

  “What can this mean?” cries Parkes, as we drew clear. “They cannot intend to put themselves in Sir Hope’s way, surely?”

  “They ain’t going to a field day!” says I. “Colonel Walker, how many d’you reckon we’ve come through?”

  “Ten thousand, easily,” says he. “But God knows how many there are in the millet-fields – those stalks are fifteen feet high.”

  “Take the rear, and keep ’em closed up!” says I. “Forward!”

  “My dear Sir Harry!” cries Parkes. “Surely we should stop and consider what is to be done!”

  “What’s to be done is get to the Army. Close up, there!”

  “But, my dear sir! They cannot mean any treachery, I –”

  “Mr Parkes,” says I, “when you’ve ridden through as many armies as I have, you learn how to smell mischief – and it’s breast-high here, I can tell you.”

  “But we must not exhibit any signs of distrust!”

  “Right you are,” says I. “Anyone who pukes or soils himself will answer to me!” Which had the troopers haw-hawing, while Parkes looked furious. “Really, sir – if they intended any harm, would they advance in full view? Why, the country to our right is quite clear!”

  So it was, and the millet was so high to the left that for a moment we seemed all alone. I glanced right – and Walker was doing the same thing. Our eyes met, and I grabbed Parkes’s bridle as we rode, heading him out to the right, while he demanded to know what I was about.

  “You’ll see,” I told him. What Walker and I had noticed was a big nullah away on the right, and now we went for it full lick, turning down its lip as we reached it, and Parkes gave a great cry of astonishment, and would have reined in, but I kept him going.

  “In full view, eh?” says I. “That settles it!”

  There were three thousand Tartar horsemen in that nullah if there was one, dismounted, with drawn sabres, and they gave a great roar at the sight of us. But now I had us heading left again, towards the road and the little village beyond which lay the camp-site to which our army would presently be advancing. As we thundered past it a little group of horsemen broke cover, led by a mandarin who yelled at us to keep away. Beyond him I could see the guns in the trees.

  “Masked battery!” cries Walker. “Jesus – look at that!”

  As we came through the fringe of trees to the camp-site, the whole eastern horizon seemed to be moving. Immediately to our left, a long bund stretched away, and it was lined with heavy guns, covering the camp-site; in the millet behind the bund the country was alive with Tiger soldiers, the black and yellow stripes clear to be seen, but on the eastern flank of the plain was the sight that had brought Walker up in his stirrups – long lines of Tartar cavalry, advancing at the walk, thousands upons thousands of them. We raced out into the unoccupied camp-site, and suddenly Parkes reined in, white-faced.

  “Sir Harry! Stop, if you please!” I reined up, and the whole troop followed. “Sir Harry, I am returning to Tang-chao! I must inform Prince I of this … this extraordinary proceeding!”

  I couldn’t believe it – and then I realised his pallor wasn’t fear, but anger. He was in a positive fury, so help me.

  “Good God!” I cried. “D’you think he doesn’t know?”

  “It is impossible that he should! Mr Loch, will you return to Lord Elgin at once, and inform him of what is happening? Sir Harry, I must ask for a small escort, if you please. One trooper will be sufficient.”

  I’m a true-blue craven, as you know, but I’m also too old a soldier to waste time raving. “You’ll never come out alive,” says I.

  “No, you are mistaken. I shall be perfectly safe. My person is inviolate.”

  D’ye know, it was on the tip of my tongue to holler “It may be in bloody lilac stripes for all the good it’ll do you!” but I kept a grip, thinking in the saddle. It must be a good ten miles to the army, with God knew how many Chinese along the road; if there was trouble it would be here, and the risk of cutting and running was appalling: The prospect of returning to Tang-chao was even worse – except for one thing. Parkes was right: he was inviolate. Whoever the Chinks cut up, it wouldn’t be Her Majesty’s biggest diplomatic gun bar Elgin himself; they wouldn’t dare that. It came home to me with blinding clarity that the one safe place in the whole ugly mess was alongside H. Parkes, Esq.

  “Very good, Mr Parkes,” says I. “I’ll ride with you. Corporal, detail two dragoons as escort. Mr Loch, take one trooper, ride to the army, inform Sir Hope and Lord Elgin. Colonel Walker, remain here with the rest of the party to observe; retire at discretion. Corporal,” I drew him aside; he was a rangy lantern-jawed roughneck with a tight chinstrap. “If it gets ugly, scatter and ride through, d’ye hear? Get to Grant – whatever anyone else says, tell him – Flashy says ‘Close up.’ Mind that. I’m counting on you
… Mr Loch, what the dooce are you waiting for? Be off – at a steady canter! Don’t run! Mr Parkes, I suggest we lose no time!”

  Doing my duty by the army, you see, before bolting to what I hoped to God was safety. I glanced round: Tartar cavalry two miles to the left, closing slowly; masked batteries on the bund – and now the concealed Tartars emerging from the nullah to the right, streaming down in a great mass. The camp-site was a death-trap … but Grant would steer clear of it. I slapped Parkes’s screw, and we raced away, the two dragoons at our heels, back through the trees and on to the Tang-chao road.

  Before we’d gone a mile I was breathing easy; whether all the troops we’d seen coming down had now reached the camp-site, I don’t know, but the way was clear, and when we met Chinese they didn’t attempt to stay us. We were in Tang-chao under the hour, and while Parkes hurried off to find Prince I, I set the dragoons searching for Anderson and the others. It was only then that I realised one of my dragoons was Nolan. Hollo, thinks I, we may find advantage in this yet.

  Tang-chao ain’t a big place, and I found two Sikh troopers near the bazaar. Bowlby Sahib was buying silk, says they, grinning, and sure enough he was festooned in the stuff, with his money on the table while the vendor shook his sticks to determine the price, with Anderson and De Normann chaffing and half a dozen sowars chortling round the stall.

  “I can’t gamble with Times money!” Bowlby was laughing, pink in the face. “Delane will go through my accounts himself, I tell you! I say, Anderson, tell him to name a price and I’ll cough it up, hang it!”