The Tigress of Mysore

by Allan Mallinson

  Maclean understood.

  ‘Close up to them towards last light and make a great deal of noise, and again at first light – but spare your men; there’s no need of actual attack. I’ll have Lindesay’s brigade come up and take on the action thereafter.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Watch your flanks though.’ He smiled wryly; ‘It’s conceivable they’ve read Tacitus.’

  Maclean knew his Tacitus; they all did. Three legions had perished in the great ambush in the Teutoburgerwald, and Rome’s finest at that. ‘I’ll keep a good watch. You’ll let me have a little artillery?’

  ‘I shall. I’ll send a galloper as soon as I’ve settled with Lindesay. And …’ (he held up his map again) ‘this road may be nothing at all, an old animal track even, and if so, perhaps nothing at all to the Chintalees – quite forgotten indeed. And therein lies its promise.’

  ‘If it’ll admit so much as a hog-deer my dragoons’ll prove the way.’

  Hervey smiled to himself. He thought he heard his own voice.

  A quarter of an hour later, back at the fork in the road, Vanneck’s squadron came up at the trot, and with them Colonel Lindesay.

  ‘Shots, General?’ said Lindesay heartily, dismounting to salute and take a sip of coffee which Corporal Johnson had been brewing while Hervey was with Maclean.

  ‘They carried to you? A vidette, yes. The Thirteenth drove them in. Some useful intelligence.’

  Lindesay took out his map, though they could see but fifty yards.

  Hervey told him his thoughts and what he’d asked of the Thirteenth, pointing to the indefinite – if promising – line to the south-west. ‘And if Maclean says it’s passable, I’ll want you to send a battalion to the river. Yours to decide, but I’d reckon on Dennie’s. Thereafter depends upon what Craigie finds on the northern road – and Worsley’s troop.’

  Lindesay nodded. He had no questions. It was all admirably clear. ‘And Dennie’ll do battle with the forest, right enough. I never met a man less content to march with his sword sheathed. He’s cursed every step of the way.’

  * * *

  Fairbrother, his face darkened a shade or two with coffee, and dupatta (shawl) cast modestly over his head to defy too close an inspection, beat loudly on the kanjira, which he held firm under his left arm so that in an instant his right hand could be at the Derringer in the bodice of his saree. Others of the troupe agreed he made a passable-looking hijda.

  He’d been generous in his promises of gold and rubies, but their loyalty was harder won than merely with jewels. Why they took to one and not another, who could tell; a sort of sixth sense, someone they could trust, someone who didn’t deem them Panchama, not of the four varda, untouchable. Fairbrother had smoked cheroot with them after the Ranee’s tamasha. That was enough.

  They’d passed through the walls of the fortress-palace without difficulty – welcome even. The guards at the foot of the droog had cheered them, and those at the drawbridge had asked blessings. Chintal’s ranee was confined along with her rissalah in the old palace – a fortress within a fortress – and there were soldiers everywhere, but in truth the city went about its business as before.

  Were there muggurs in the moat? He’d seen none. But they stayed submerged by day, did they not? Had any seen them at night as they sought a place to lie up? One hijda told him a muggur was no great size anyway, that a man might fight with it, unlike the great beasts of the saltwater Sundarban. But a crocodile was a crocodile, and he wasn’t inclined to try it. If it came to a siege, then they’d have to get across the water, and its narrowest part, the drawbridge, was of course the strongest. What occupied him most now, though, was how many guns the dewan could dispose, and in what strength were the defenders. That was intelligence he knew his friend would value most. The rest – where and in what strength were the troops outside the fortress – Hervey would discover for himself. As for the tunnel of which Colonel Bell had told him, that ran from the old rajah’s quarters to a haveli on the north side, there would probably be no knowing. The dewan would surely have placed a guard on it somewhere, and they could hardly enquire of a secret passageway.

  No, this morning he’d confine himself to simpler objectives. Yet one thing did give him hope: it was Mira Bai passing through the gates of the citadel without hindrance, exactly as she said she’d be able to – for a day or so at least, until the dewan would for sure take counsel of his fears and deprive the Ranee of all comforts. She’d glanced at him as she hurried by, with the look that one conspirator had on seeing another – uneasy but confiding. She’d take the Ranee his message, that help would come though he knew not when.

  * * *

  Hervey slept in his cloak on a bed of ferns. Campfires and torches blazed, for Johnson had taken charge to ward off – in the words of the chaplain – ‘every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth’, words which had gained a peculiar following among the dragoons but with additional adjectives unfit for the chaplain’s hearing.

  Somewhat contrarily, however, as was his wont, Johnson (who’d not himself bedded down yet, instead playing dice with the orderlies) now reckoned he quite liked the forest, or the ‘jungle’ as he preferred, for that was what old India hands called it, which he considered himself to be. It was a bit like the place he’d rambled as a child when he slipped free of the Poor Law stewards of a Sunday. There he’d spend a whole day without seeing a soul and hearing nothing but a bird singing or the bark of a roebuck – ‘that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don’ and which, as he’d learned later, Ivanhoe loved. But in those pleasant green places there’d been no creeping things to give him more than a bit of a sting – an ant or a bee or a wasp; nothing in the remotest bit deadly, and which a dock leaf could ease. There were adders, people said; but he’d never seen one. And besides, an adder couldn’t kill you, while here, they all did, one way or another. They’d strangle you or crush the life out of you, or poison you for no reason. And that wasn’t the worst of it: there were good snakes and bad snakes, as poor Annie had almost found out for herself in the stillroom when she’d heard Allegra call out in fright and rushed to see what it was, and gathered her up in her arms to shield her from the cobra, and Serjeant Stray had killed it in the nick of time ever so deftly with his sabre.

  Everybody thought the world of Annie after that. (Well, they had already, but …), especially the colonel, and Mrs Hervey, and when Allegra’s governess had given her notice, they’d promoted Annie in her place to be ‘Miss Gildea’, and she’d become quite the lady now – but just as nice and friendly, and a real good companion to Miss ’Ervey. He wasn’t sure it was right that Colonel ’Ervey had changed his mind and let them both come into the jungle, but if anybody was hurt and had to go to Dr Milne’s, Miss ’Ervey and Annie’d look after ’em right enough, and the wives who’d come as well …

  But now the peace of the hour was disturbed, and his game of dice. ‘Colonel,’ he said, with a hand to Hervey’s shoulder to wake him. ‘It’s Colonel Maclean, come to report.’

  Hervey sat up and looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. ‘Very well. And some coffee, if you will. And have Major Parry come.’

  He got up and shook his cloak. It was a soft bed, and no doubt he’d shared it with some minor fauna, but nothing too alarming that he could see in the lantern light.

  The galloper on picket brought Maclean to the bivouac. He had a tin mug in his hand already – the Sixth’s rule that visitors were offered hospitality appropriate to the time of day, and Johnson’s pot of coffee simmering since dusk.

  ‘My dear General, I’m sorry indeed to disturb you, but at least it’s with good news.’

  Johnson put a tin mug into Hervey’s hand.

  He took a sip, grimaced, took another and hoped it would soon have effect so he needn’t drink more.

  ‘No apology needed, Colonel.’

  ‘I never would have thought it, but the Chintalees put up such a fire at the river as I’ve never s
een for so modest a demonstration as we were able to make. Cannon and musketry as if their lives depended on it. And all of it wild beyond speaking; we didn’t lose a single man. Evidently their purpose is indeed to draw us in. We’ll oblige them, therefore, keep ’em awake all night and make another demonstration at dawn, and we’ll then get ready for Lindesay’s men to relieve us.’

  ‘Capital. Any word about the mysterious road south?’

  ‘Indeed there is, which is why I’ve come. I sent a subaltern’s patrol – Tysseu – one of my best. The road does indeed run straight south-west, just as the map indicates – wide enough for four horses, and there are tracks made by more than one well-laden cart. It stops dead after three miles or so for no purpose whatsoever except that there’s a shrine of some sort. Tysseu couldn’t make out what. He made a sketch, but I myself am none the wiser, though it’s evidently some snake deity – a naga, perhaps; or even Shiva – when he wears that cobra for a necklace. But that’s by the bye. The material point is that the forest there’s perfectly open. The canopy’s so full, says Tysseu, that it felt like dusk even when it was still broad daylight.’

  Hervey took a mouthful of coffee in satisfaction. Just as he’d hoped – a full canopy restricting the light, so that nothing worth speaking of grew but the trees themselves.

  ‘So there’d be no hindrance to infantry?’

  ‘Nothing, certainly, that infantry couldn’t manage, says Tysseu, perhaps in places with the odd axe. He spoke of some disobliging thorn, but he pressed on till they debouched at the Nerbudda, four miles; five at most. Once out, as far as he could see was paddy-field.’

  ‘And the distance between forest and river?’

  ‘Half a mile or so.’

  Better even than he’d expected. ‘He must have moved at some speed.’

  Maclean nodded. ‘When he reckoned he’d be able to get to the river before dark he decided to post pairs of men with torches as he went so as to guide him back. He’s also marked the way by notching the trees.’

  ‘Admirable. Well, I will meet with Mr Tysseu in due course. In the meantime, my compliments.’

  By now, Parry had joined them, and Hervey had modified his plan.

  ‘Colonel Maclean says infantry should have no difficulty getting through the forest south, cavalry also. Perhaps even a few guns therefore, if they’re able to break them down for the closer stretches. I think it has capability.’

  ‘Is there nothing yet from the north, General? I’m afraid I’m only just come in myself.’

  Hervey looked at Maclean. He’d told him not to waste relays passing ‘nothing to report’, but he was surprised nevertheless that the squadron on the northern road evidently hadn’t had touch with the enemy.

  ‘I sent Taylor, my major, about two hours before last light, but he’s not returned yet. That squadron had the longer road, of course.’

  ‘Indeed. Frankly, I’m more anxious to have word from Worsley’s troop. Otherwise I risk merely taking the line of least resistance, as it were.’

  He smiled to himself – the Prussian again: Only the element of chance is needed to make war a gamble, and that element is never absent.

  ‘Still, in view of what you’ve just brought me, I want to make some preliminary arrangements. I’m excessively obliged.’

  Colonel Maclean said he looked forward to wasting more of the Chintalees’ powder at dawn, then finished his coffee and took his leave. Parry opened his order book.

  Hervey slept till first light, when Johnson brought him tea and a piece of biscuit spread with honey.

  ‘Can I ’ave a word, Colonel?’

  Hervey sat up in his leafy bed, hoping the word wouldn’t be too diverting. ‘What troubles you?’

  ‘I were listenin’ to Colonel Maclean last night, when ’e said about that shrine. What if it’s there because the place’s crawling with ’em?’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Snakes.’

  Hervey sighed. Johnson had become rather too preoccupied with snakes: probably since their last time in India, when he’d bought a mongoose and found it afraid of them. Still, dawn in the forest was an agreeable time, and there were worse things on waking than a few harmless words with a man who’d served so staunchly for twenty years.

  ‘I’d think not. I don’t know what the Indian calls it, but to the Greeks a hamadryad was a tree spirit, so a shrine here doesn’t strike me as unusual. And frankly, five hundred pairs of boots are going to send every living thing scuttling.’

  ‘It were just a thought.’

  ‘And I hold your thoughts in high regard, Corporal Johnson, make no mistake … This tea is uncommonly good.’

  ‘Thank you. Are we going past t’shrine an’ all?’

  ‘Very probably.’

  ‘Corporal Boyle’s just come in, by the way.’

  Hervey quickened. Boyle was one of Worsley’s best NCOs.

  ‘’E’s talking to Major Parry.’

  Five minutes later, Parry came with him, and the news he’d been waiting for.

  ‘Captain Worsley reached Chintalpore last night, General. His intention was to make touch with Captain Fairbrother at once and then report in person as soon as he has intelligence.’

  Hervey nodded. He’d expected no more at this time, only confirmation that they’d made Chintalpore without mishap.

  He turned to Worsley’s galloper. ‘What time did you leave Captain Worsley, Corp’l Boyle?’

  ‘Two hours before dark, Colonel – sorry, General. The road was full of Chintalees though. I ’ad to lie up for a few hours, and then find the stream we’d come down to get back to the middle o’ the forest. There was a good moon, when it could get through the trees. I didn’t sleep or anything, General. I kept on.’

  Hervey nodded again. ‘I hadn’t supposed you could have done, Corp’l Boyle. I commend you heartily.’

  ‘Colonel. Private Prettyman was my second, also, Colonel, sorry, General. He’s green still, but he didn’t once hesitate.’

  ‘Prettyman …’

  ‘He came with the last draft, General. Been a postboy.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Capital.’

  Garratt had brought the rest of the recruits with him to Sthambadree, reckoning they’d learn as much in a month as they would in six drilling at Fort St George. They hadn’t passed out of sabre and carbine yet, but that was no great matter compared with the advantage of having a couple of dozen extra horse-holders (at least, perhaps, not unless it came to really hot work).

  ‘The Somersets will be mustering soon, General,’ said Parry. ‘Do you want them to proceed?’

  Hervey smiled. ‘So Lindesay did choose Dennie … Yes, better to take the risks early – and it is still early. We can’t expect anything more from Worsley for a good few hours yet, and if his intelligence is contrary, Dennie can always be recalled.’

  At that he kept the smile to himself, though, well imagining Dennie’s indignation on being told to counter-march. His concern at that moment was leaving Lindesay and the Thirty-ninth to fight the battle at the river. (And the beginnings again of that battle were quite audible, now.) In truth Lindesay would need another battalion if they were to keep up the demonstration for long. Sending off Dennie’s on a flank march was indeed a gamble: If a segment of one’s force is located where it is not sufficiently engaged with the enemy, or if the troops are on the march while the enemy is fighting, then these forces are being managed inefficiently.

  It was all nonsense, of course; typical Prussian purism, but it nagged at him nevertheless.

  ‘Have we offered you refreshment, Corp’l Boyle? You and Prettyman.’

  ‘Colonel? Sorry – General.’

  ‘Corp’l Johnson, please see to it that Corp’l Boyle and Private Prettyman have their fill of tea, and an egg.’

  ‘Tea and one egg, yes, Colonel.’

  ‘One apiece, I mean.’ He knew Johnson would have a bag of hard-boiled eggs strung on the bat horse.

  ‘An egg apiece, Colonel … Come this way,
if you please, Corporal Boyle,’ he said, in his best imitation of a butler.

  Parry was still looking quizzical as Hervey caught his eye. ‘War’s a grim business, Robert, but it needn’t be solemn.’

  It was nearing eleven when Worsley came. It had been daylight for almost four hours – time enough and more to cover the distance, but not when the insurgents held the road so completely as they appeared to do. For by now, Hervey had had a full report from the northern squadron via the Thirteenth’s major. They’d got within three or four miles of Chintalpore – by their reckoning – and then found the road stockaded. Even trying to outflank it had brought casualties, as the palisading extended well to the north and south and was strongly garrisoned. The forest beyond wasn’t easy either, with much undergrowth, the major had said, and Colonel Craigie, the brigadier, was bringing up the heavier guns, intending to probe a while with fire.

  ‘Fairbrother’s as safe as may be,’ said Worsley, in answer to Hervey’s immediate question. ‘Or rather, he would be if he’d lie low. He’s with the hijdas, but he insists on going about with them.’

  Hervey was relieved nevertheless.

  Johnson brought a coffee pot and two enamelled mugs. Parry shook his head when offered a third.

  ‘Very well, Christopher,’ said Hervey, his immediate concern allayed. ‘Yours to report.’

  ‘General, it was approaching dusk by the time I’d made safe with the squadron – we kept in the forest; there was no chancing otherwise – so there was little I could see for myself, but I found Fairbrother easily enough after dark. He believes the insurgents are in some disarray, since they’ve not been able to take the palace – not all of it, that is. They have the bailey and the outworks, but not the palace itself, which the Ranee and her bodyguard hold, and a few guns.’

  ‘The old rajah fortified it for just such a contingency.’

  ‘But they’ve brought in a great many cannon and mounted them on the walls, and they’ve flooded the moat.’