The Tigress of Mysore

by Allan Mallinson

  ‘Hah! There are always snake pits – and muggurs in the moats.’

  ‘They’re not unknown, surely so – if perhaps more in the imagination than in truth, though imagination will often serve powerfully enough – but let me assure you that there never was such a thing in Chintal until a year ago, when Acharya had it made to serve his terror. Few have actually been flung into it – its mere existence is enough to frighten money or information out of the stoutest heart – but two weeks ago a common felon was deposed thus, most unusually, for public hanging’s the required entertainment, and under some pretext or other, Acharya forced the Ranee to watch, and had two of the bodyguard hold her by the arms at the edge of the pit, so that, he said, she herself didn’t fall. But she understood perfectly that her life was his for the taking.’

  Hervey began to think he might be hearing the truth – if there were such a thing in India. He took another glass of lime water.

  ‘Am I to suppose, then, that the chastisement of the nautch girl is an elaborate ruse to out-dewan the man himself?’

  ‘Just so. She buys time.’

  ‘You’ve taken trouble to lay out the case at some length. Time for what?’

  ‘I have, and for the very reason that I judged you to be of a careful disposition, and also – indeed, chiefly – because as well as the Ranee’s, my forfeit life’s the stake.’

  Hervey looked grave. ‘Evidently you have a proposition.’

  ‘I do. The Ranee would make a treaty with Fort William, the same as Mysore’s, and accept a subsidiary force here. The Company wouldn’t annex Chintal, therefore, as it has Coorg, and therefore wouldn’t profit materially much by it, but it might thereby save itself the charge of pillage.’

  Hervey thought for a moment. Could he discuss the proposal without an admission that annexation was exactly what Fort William intended?

  ‘How would you propose such a treaty be effected if the Ranee’s a prisoner of the dewan? The business of the nautch girl’s hardly likely to make much difference.’

  ‘You would have to bring a force of such strength into Chintal as to overcome that of Acharya – something that must in any event be in contemplation as we speak, although the estimate will probably be greatly awry.’

  There were now two assumptions to avoid confirming. ‘What might such a strength be, in your judgement?’

  ‘Twenty thousand.’

  Hervey tried hard not to look perturbed. The plans for the field force were for twelve. He must continue to speak hypothetically, discursively. ‘That’s twice the number the Duke had at Assaye! Very nearly two thirds the size of the army of Bombay indeed!’

  ‘Ashok Acharya’s judged these things well, but not entirely. Every army in India is composed of mercenaries. They’re therefore susceptible to defeat by financial inducement.’

  They sat long together, Hervey gradually abandoning the pretence of the hypothetical, so that as it neared the time he judged he must leave, he turned to the one question that could not be considered in the abstract: how was the colonel’s own life to be preserved? The dewan’s spies would know of this meeting. What would he tell him when brought to question?

  Colonel Bell had thought the matter through, however. ‘You have come here to Chintalpore on account of the death of the agent. Fort William has invited me to become the agent in his place, and with the offer of much gold. I have declined, but you have said that you will visit with me again to try to persuade me to reconsider, although I have said that I am not open to reconsidering. That much the dewan will be inclined to believe. What further stratagems will be necessary we can only judge later.’

  Hervey agreed. ‘One last question, though, for the time being. Who is to be trusted in all this?’

  ‘Hah! No one, save my wife, whose trust I try not to ill-use, and therefore tell her as little as may be, and Rissaldar Sikarwar, a fine Rajpoot officer. I’ve known him since he was a laddie.’

  Hervey smiled ruefully, making to leave. ‘He was nearly the death of me yesterday, but I’m inclined to take your word.’

  Colonel Bell rose briskly, without the aid of his stick, and held out a hand. ‘The Ranee will take a walk in the jasmine garden at dusk, as is her habit. She’ll be alone save for an officer of the bodyguard – Sikarwar – and one of her ladies.’

  Hervey nodded. ‘I understand.’

  ‘And to reassure you, on return Miss Hervey should have some words for you from the Ranee.’

  At six-thirty he went to the jasmine gardens with Georgiana. They strolled among the sandalwood trees admiring the roses which climbed high and in profusion, and the peacocks beginning their nightly roost.

  But they kept their voices low. ‘Walls, ears,’ he’d said.

  The scent of jasmine was even stronger at this time of day – Mysooru mallige, the jasmine of Mysore. It was the same that filled the garden at Arcot House, and his thoughts turned momentarily to Kezia. And although campaigning had been his life – in truth still was – for an instant he would have traded all to be in that garden.

  He was in no hurry to make the rendezvous. It was rare that he had opportunity to spend even a little time with Georgiana. She’d grown to age – well, almost to age – in his absence. Even their letters had been infrequent. Indeed, there were probably letters of several past years that were still on the high seas or at some distant post office trying vainly to deliver themselves – an ever-onward stern chase.

  They strolled and chatted for a quarter of an hour – nothing of consequence: Granite, peacocks, the palace silks, but it didn’t matter; they spoke easily. Strange that it should have to be in so distant and alien a place. He couldn’t recall even five minutes of strolling in England – only occasionally some purposeful rush to see this or that, although there’d been those few days at Hounslow, when Kezia had been prostrated, and she and Elizabeth had come to stay (and when Annie had proved her true worth). How long might they have together, now, in India? ‘The exigencies of the service’ – there would be those well enough. And then the marriage market, though still just a distant prospect, surely – it had to be considered (and the market here unthinkable) …

  They saw the Ranee come through the grove of fig trees to sit by the lotus pond that collected the water from the lower fountains when they were in play. At a respectful distance behind were the rissaldar and one of the ladies of the court.

  There was good light still – half an hour at least.

  ‘Do you recognize who it is that attends – the lady, I mean? One of your party today?’

  ‘Yes, it’s Mira Bai. She spoke to me at the sewing. The one I told you of, the wife of the colonel. Her English is at times a little uncertain, but she understands and can make herself understood.’

  Hervey smiled to himself. It was a well-laid plan. Whether a plan to trap or to reassure was the question.

  ‘Did you form any opinion of her?’

  ‘No, not really, but she was kind to take such pains to speak to me.’

  Or cunning? he wondered.

  They strolled on – if observed, a stroll to a chance encounter.

  ‘Why, Colonel Hervey, and Miss Hervey,’ said the Ranee, smiling as she rose.

  ‘Good evening, Your Highness,’ said Hervey, bowing. Georgiana curtsied. Suneyla took her hand as she rose, then offered hers to Hervey.

  ‘I like to come here at this time of day, when I am able. There is much peace. It is strange, but sometimes a snake will come to drink also, even a krait or a cobra, and I have no fear of them, for in their need of water they show their helplessness, just as you or I.’

  Helpless: such an intriguing word – calculating, even? Colonel Bell had spoken of the snake pit, and Suneyla’s message (the hamadryads in the forest being nothing to the court here) – what to make of it? Was a woman’s life and liberty ever at the pleasure of men? Was that why women had their wiles? The apple, the serpent, the woman … the garden of Eden, here.

  ‘I would hazard that their venom is diminished not
one jot, though, ma’am.’

  She smiled, and nodded.

  She was extraordinarily beautiful, and the more so in her ‘helplessness’. She must have excited many jealousies and desires, and still. The gift of beauty was indeed perilous.

  ‘Did you find your day agreeable, Colonel Hervey?’

  ‘Very, ma’am. I went to see Colonel Bell.’

  ‘How did you find him? In good spirits, I trust?’

  ‘I did.’

  She beckoned to her lady. ‘This is Colonel Bell’s wife.’

  Hervey bowed. ‘Your servant, ma’am. It was pleasing to meet your husband again after so many years.’

  ‘He, I am sure, was pleased to see you, Colonel Hervey.’

  He nodded, turning again to the Ranee. ‘I regret I was unable to persuade him to become the Company’s agent, however, though I pressed him to consider it further, and he has at least agreed to do that.’

  He followed, as it seemed, a script, but not knowing precisely what would be the lines of the other actors.

  Suneyla spoke no lines though. She let her eyes speak instead.

  Georgiana shivered. She’d no knowledge, only of Eve, but every instinct told her.

  Hervey knew, by instinct and experience. The hamadryads – they’d coiled and coupled, but then female had killed male, her purpose accomplished. He’d seen as much often enough. He’d never let temptation overcome him again.

  ‘Highness, you may always count on the protection of His Majesty’s East India Company – Honourable East India Company.’

  ‘I am no cipher of the dewan’s, whatever he believes, but I am not free to leave this place.’

  ‘I understand perfectly. And that it is necessary to gain leave of the dewan by force.’

  ‘Even if I were able to leave, somehow, I could not as long as the dewan remained. I could not leave my people to such as he.’

  Hervey caught his breath. This was the first intimation of nobility he’d had. Did he believe her?

  ‘If, ma’am, you were to request the aid of the Company, how might the army answer?’

  ‘The bodyguard would answer to me, once the commandant is detained.’

  Hervey glanced at the rissaldar, who bowed to say that it was so.

  ‘And the rest? There are a great many!’

  ‘They are the dewan’s creatures. I do not know.’

  Hervey supposed that ultimately, like most mercenaries, they’d gauge the wind.

  ‘And the dacoits, the thugs, ma’am?’

  She stiffened. ‘They do not answer to me. They never have!’

  He wanted to believe her. He wanted very much to believe her.

  That evening he kept to himself, thinking long on what he should do; and indeed what he could do. At length he went to consult with Fairbrother, finding him lying on his bed reading Southey’s Journal of a Tour in Scotland by the light of a stearin candle that he’d brought from England.

  ‘I commend your persistence,’ he said ruefully, minded that he’d promised once that they’d make a Highland tour together, ‘but I would have your opinion on a less agreeable prospect.’

  ‘By all means. I was in fact reading more for the prospect here than Scotland – its observations on Mr Telford, wondering what capability he’d see in India.’

  ‘He’d certainly have an even emptier canvas on which to display his art. One or two of his roads wouldn’t come amiss.’

  ‘For sure. And Mr Stephenson’s railways. I thought I’d go and see the steam at the coal pits tomorrow, if you’ve no objection.’

  ‘I’ve no objection in the least. But come take a turn with me now,’ said Hervey, cupping his ear and pointing to the wall. ‘I would see how Minnie’s stood the day and all, give her a little mash perhaps, if they have such a thing.’ (If the stable, too, had ears, then he supposed that nothing could avail him in his mission here.)

  Fairbrother needed no explanation. He knew his friend well enough.

  And, obligingly when they were come, Minnie and the others whickered just often enough to mask their talk, muted anyway as it was. Perilous, though, for Hervey had now firmly resolved to rescue Suneyla; or rather, not simply to spirit her away from the city, but to release both her and Chintal from the tyranny of Ashok Acharya. He had, he told his friend, taken leave of her in the jasmine gardens with an assurance not to be afraid, though he couldn’t yet know how that might be.

  ‘And how, meanwhile, is she to preserve herself?’ asked Fairbrother.

  ‘That is the material point. I said she must somehow allow Acharya to believe that he’s secure. How, I can’t suppose, but she’s not without guile. It appears she can trust the bodyguard, and perhaps some of the Swiss officers that Acharya’s brought to drill the others. His numbers are formidable though.’

  ‘And this while you return to Sthambadree, collect your field force and come back here as knight-errant?’

  Hervey scowled. Sometimes his friend tried him sorely. ‘I can’t pretend it will be easy. I don’t doubt we can deliver Chintal from Acharya, given the men, but I can’t be sure we can deliver the Ranee too.’

  Fairbrother was silent for a moment, thoughtful.

  ‘You’ll need good intelligence in the meantime.’

  ‘I’d thought of that well enough,’ said Hervey wearily, for there was no obvious prospect of it.

  ‘Then I shall stay here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t see another way. You can scarcely leave your dragoons. Tell the palace I’m to be Bell’s assistant, till the new agent’s appointed. And if the Ranee’s courage fails her … Well, I’ll have to contrive her escape somehow.’

  Hervey shook his head. That he should have such men as Fairbrother follow him without bidding …

  XX

  The Chintal Field Force

  Sthambadree, five days later

  The troop serjeant-majors stood like petrified trees, fearing the slightest movement would bring down on the unfortunate individual the terrible wrath of the regiment’s deity of discipline.

  ‘I ’ave been in ’Is Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons for more years than any of you’ve been able to tell left from right: an’ never ’ave I seen aught like it!’

  Armstrong stalked the line like a lion choosing whom to devour.

  ‘Just because you’ve been in the field for two months, you think it’s all right for boots to look like lead piping an’ belts like old bandages – an’ saddles as the day would quake to look on? Well let me tell you, one an’ all of you, that even if it were just us – ’Is Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons – on this grand scheme of ’Is Majesty’s to bring light into this benighted land, your dragoons’ boots an’ belts an’ saddles do not pass muster! Understand?’

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘An’ if the belts an’ boots an’ saddles won’t pass muster, what in the name of God is the state of them things as I ’aven’t seen? Swords rusted away are they? Carbines fouled so bad you couldn’t squeeze a pea in, let alone a ball? Eh?’

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘But it isn’t just us, ’Is Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons, on this grand scheme to bring light into this benighted land; it’s half the bloody soldiers in India! Half the white ’uns, anyway. An’ you think it’ll be good enough to parade with ’alf the King’s men in India, looking like a regiment of half-washed chimneysweeps?’

  ‘Sir!’

  Armstrong halted abruptly, thrust his whip under his arm and braced himself.

  ‘Listen very carefully, you troop serjeant-majors. Colonel Hervey, who is soon to be a general again, will be back at any minute. I would be shamed – shamed, I tell you! – for him to see his regiment in such bad order as this. An’ if I am shamed, by God, so will you too be. Your stripes won’t see the light of another day!’

  The silence was profound. No bird sang, no dog barked, no horse whickered in the distant lines.

  ‘Is … that … under … stood?’

  ‘Sir!’

  Armstrong glo
wered at each of them, his face as red as his tunic.

  ‘Dismiss!’

  The troop serjeant-majors turned to the right, paused to an unspoken count of ‘two, three’, marched sharply four paces, then without a word scuttled in different directions. In less than a minute they’d be in full throat too.

  Armstrong’s groom held out his forage cap and took his shako by return.

  The serjeant-major nodded, said nothing, nodded again to him to fall out, then went to his tent and sank into the camp chair under the awning to contemplate the now empty maidan.

  He was seething still. Bawling out serjeant-majors, all of ’em whipper-snappers – except Foxall … and Prickett (Prickett! God ’elp ’em all!) – an’ all of ’em reckoning they could do ’is job, and wondering when they’d get the chance …

  It was always the same: the boots, belts and saddles were never good enough; he could never allow them to be good enough – and then to hope like hell that what mattered even more would be good enough on the day. Not just on a parade – worthy test though that was – or even a field day, but when it was the true test: With ball-cartridge, Load!; Draw swords!; Walk-March!; Trot!; Gallop – Cha-a-arge!

  Oh God, how often had he heard those words of command – and then set about some Frenchman or another of the King’s enemies with his sabre? There were times – there’d always been times, first with Caithlin and now with Edie – when he’d just wanted a day or so without a trumpet call, without having to upbraid so much as a corporal, let alone a troop serjeant-major. Perhaps even more than a day – days without number …

  The orderly serjeant appeared, breathless. ‘Sir, the colonel’s coming!’

  The thoughts were gone like the wind. He sprang up and began re-buckling his swordbelt.

  * * *

  ‘Hervey, I’ve forwarded your despatch to Fort William, with the very strongest possible recommendation, but I am not of my own authority able to change the policy of the governor-general in council.’