A Hanging at Dawn: A Bess Crawford Short Story

by Charles Todd

  He considered the question. “I’m willing to try.” With a nod to me, he set out across the compound, and I saw him engage in a heated discussion with the men guarding the prisoner. A few minutes later, he went to find the Prince’s man. And ten minutes later, rather red in the face, Dr. Broughton went back to where Simon was waiting and told his guards in no uncertain terms that he was going to speak to their prisoner.

  At a sign from the Prince’s man, standing by the steps of the guesthouse, the guards let Dr. Broughton pass, and he began to look at Simon’s eyes, examining his neck and shoulders—and managed to swing him around where neither the guards nor the Prince’s man could watch the prisoner’s face. The doctor, head bent to listen to Simon’s heart, finally looked up, then nodded toward the Prince.

  “He’ll do,” he called, and stalked off. He didn’t come directly back to where we were waiting, instead speaking to a private soldier and then a Sergeant, as if asking about their healing wounds, for the Sergeant rolled up his sleeve and presented his forearm for the doctor to examine closely. Then the private pulled up his trouser leg and presented his calf.

  By the time he had come back to where we were standing, I thought he must have examined half the entire British Army.

  There was a successful gleam in his eye as he escorted me to where my mount was waiting, and as he gave me a lift up into the saddle, he said quietly, “Something to do with the Princess. Brandon understands their language, and he overheard the Prince’s man speaking to one of the entourage. There was concern for her safety.”

  My heart sank. Clearly there was more to what was happening than some conspiracy by the Frontier tribes. They had rushed Parvati away, but with all these soldiers and her personal retinue, not even counting the Prince’s household escorting her, she was as safe here as she was in the zenana, the women’s quarters at Rulumpur.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “But I shall use that excuse to speak to the prisoner again, you may be sure. If you’re asked, it was a war wound—there’s a bit of metal lodged near his heart. It might keep them from knocking him about, when they have the chance.”

  I smiled, although I didn’t feel much like it. “Thank you, Doctor. If I had my way, I’d see you mentioned in dispatches.”

  He laughed, gave me a half salute, and walked back to where the adjutant and the Lieutenant were preparing to ride out. While we’d been talking, the doctor and I, Simon had been put in one of the wagons. I turned my horse toward the gate, where the road began, hoping for a last glimpse of him.

  And then he was gone, the bullocks moving slowly out into the dust of the road, and his wagon jerking and bouncing behind the team as it turned back toward the railway station.

  And even though I tried to see Simon inside that closed carriage, I couldn’t. But I hoped to heaven he could see me.

  My escorts and I were the very last to leave the compound. I’d made certain that Major Dudley had gone with the carts destined for the Maharani’s Palace, and that the other three officers had indeed been allowed to accompany Simon. And only then did I begin the long ride back to the cantonment.

  Ever since I had ridden into the guesthouse compound, I’d concentrated on what was happening to Simon. I’d fought to keep my wits about me. I’d put my concern for him ahead of my own growing sense of helplessness as it became clear that we couldn’t budge the Prince’s man.

  And now the letdown followed. I needed a good cry, I realized, a woman’s way of letting the increasing pressures of the day dissipate even as the fear was building inside me that we could very well lose Simon. But the two men with me would be shocked to see the Colonel’s lady in tears. And so, I held them back.

  I arrived back at the cantonment safe and sound—and very tired, more from worry than from the distance—long before Richard rode in with the rest of the troops.

  Bess had held supper for me—I realized all at once that I’d missed my dinner entirely, and hadn’t even noticed—and her first words were, “You look so tired. This wasn’t just a ride, was it? What’s happened?”

  She was so perceptive, my daughter.

  “Trouble with the Princess’s party. But it’s sorted, now. She should be at the Palace, settling in for her visit.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t hear the escort riding in with you.”

  “No, I came on ahead. They’ll be home tomorrow if not this evening. I didn’t care to spoil the Maharani’s happiness by hanging about. We can visit later.” I wasn’t precisely lying to her, but I knew my daughter. If she learned why Simon hadn’t come back with us, she would go directly to the Maharani, and demand that he be set free. And much as I wished that would be enough to free him, I was beginning to think that this affair was far more complicated than I’d realized, even there in that stuffy room in the guesthouse when it had seemed bad enough. “Let me freshen up, and I’ll come down for supper.”

  Escaping to my room, I stood for a moment in the middle of the floor, staring at that image of Simon in chains. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. He wasn’t my child, but he’d been like a son to us, and I had fought for him, just as if he had been our flesh and blood. But I didn’t cry, there in my room. I refused to cry. That was admitting defeat, even before I’d spoken to Richard.

  The maid came with hot water and fresh towels, and I took the time to wash my face and clean off the dust and heat of travel. Then I changed into my evening clothes, just as if we were all sitting down to dinner.

  I don’t remember what we ate, Bess and I. And afterward we took our tea in my sitting room. I must have put up a good enough front, for Bess kissed me good night and went up to bed at the usual hour.

  When I was sure she was settled, I sat there, a shawl around my shoulders against the cool of the evening at this time of year. Waiting. Trying not to remember . . .

  It was well after four in the morning when at last I heard the horses coming in, and half an hour later, Richard came quietly through the door.

  When he saw me sitting there in the dark, he said at once, “What’s wrong?”

  I was glad my escort had kept their promise not to say anything to anyone. I hadn’t wanted such news spreading through the barracks before Richard had heard it.

  “Darling, come walk with me in the garden. I don’t want us to be overheard.”

  And so we went out to the gardens, and there I told him all that I knew about what had happened at the guesthouse.

  He didn’t say a word until I’d finished, but I was standing close to him and could feel the rising tension in him as he listened.

  “Major Dudley hasn’t come back from the Palace, yet. Or at least he hasn’t stopped here. So, I can’t tell you how the Maharani has taken all this. I don’t know what Parvati herself knows. I can’t think why Simon believes this somehow has to do with her. But if he says it does, then that’s where we must start. I intend to call on the Maharani tomorrow as early as I can.”

  Richard took a deep breath. “Damn!” he said softly. But in the quiet darkness, I heard him.

  “I don’t know what else we can do,” I said. “But we must think of something. Simon isn’t guilty of this. And I don’t trust that man of the Prince’s.”

  “Do you believe that someone planned this? To trap Simon?”

  I hadn’t shown Richard the items in my possession—the handkerchief, the knife, and the things supposedly taken from the small box. But I’d explained what the Lieutenant had found on the far side of the wall.

  When I didn’t answer straightaway, Richard went on. “I can understand someone thinking that here was a cart full of treasures—clothes with jewels sewn into them, headdresses heavy with gold, hangings of the best silks for the Princess’s rooms. God knows what else. And a poor man might decide that one small casket wouldn’t be missed until much later. In that case, why didn’t he take the contents with him? Why leave them where they might be found, after having to do murder to keep them at the start?”

  “The gates were locked and gu
arded,” I reminded him. “He might have tossed the knife and the other things over the wall, expecting to collect them afterward. But that doesn’t explain them being buried, does it? If he had time to bury them, why not simply take them away with him as soon as he collected them?”

  “Because everyone would be searched. And his absence would have been noticed. The hunt would begin.”

  “We must be there at the trial, Richard. I won’t sit here and wait for news.”

  He pulled me into his arms, comforting me. “No. I think we were successful enough last night to keep the Frontier pacified for the moment. Tomorrow, you must call on the Maharani and tell her what you know. All of it.”

  I sighed. “I felt so very helpless as I watched Simon standing there, chains on his wrists, and I couldn’t stop them from taking him away.”

  “You made them allow officers to accompany the party. Simon isn’t alone.”

  “Still—why? It makes no sense that one of the Princely Houses would choose to alienate the Army like this.”

  “God knows. But I will find out.”

  I knew that tone of voice. Richard would indeed get to the bottom of this.

  I remembered as we were walking back to the house. “Is it true that the King is dead?” I had never had a chance to take that in, much less think about it until now.

  “I don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Calcutta will be sending out word, I’m sure.” He frowned. “In the last newspapers we got, I’m sure it said he was in Biarritz. Queen Mary was in Greece visiting her brother. Surely if the King was ill, she’d have been with him.”

  I went to call on the Maharani just after eleven the next morning. Bess had asked to come with me, but I told her that this was more or less an official visit, as the Colonel’s wife, and we’d call again tomorrow. She was disappointed, but she understood how protocol worked.

  The Maharani usually spent the early morning hours, when it was cooler, with her children. There had been seven, two of whom had died in infancy. Parvati was the eldest, and there were two other daughters and two sons.

  I’d heard tales that in the distant past female infants were not allowed to live, but the Princely families had daughters today, and like the Maharani, seemed to dote on them.

  Parvati had given her Prince an heir a year after their wedding, and this little girl was the Maharani’s first granddaughter. I could imagine the entire household staff eager to see and spoil the child. Private Dunn, who had ridden back with me, had seen her at a distance, and told me she was “quite the little dolly” in her multiple petticoats and gold bangles.

  As I rode up the long drive toward the house, shaded by trees all the way to the main courtyard, for the eighth time I rearranged what I’d planned to say. Whatever I felt, I had to be diplomatic. The Prince was after all her son-in-law, Parvati’s husband, and stuffed shirt or not, I had to be careful not to reflect in any way on his justice or his retainers. But I carried that bloody handkerchief and its contents with me, to show the Maharani.

  From the start, the problem in this whole affair seemed to have been the senior official assigned to accompany Parvati on this visit. How well did the Maharani—or her daughter for that matter—know this man? And what did they think of him? How could I portray his role in all that had happened, and still make this matter seem to be a mistake that could easily be corrected, with no suggestion that he was inflexible and had an inflated sense of his own importance?

  Major Dudley had ridden in shortly after Richard himself had come back—it was nearly dawn—and I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since he’d reported to Richard.

  The broad steps leading up to the ornate garden door—where I’d been invited to come since first we’d met—were decorated with huge, ornate vases, where flowers grew, spilling over and scenting the air.

  Usually a groom came running out to take my horse, but there was no one about, not even a gardener within sight. I dismounted at the block, tied up my horse, and went up the sweep of steps to pull the silk rope that served as a door knocker.

  No one came to answer the summons. I waited a few minutes, then pulled the rope again. I knew someone had seen me. Nothing happened at the Palace without a hundred pairs of eyes watching every move.

  Still no answer.

  I stood there, gathering my wits. I hadn’t expected to find the Maharani’s door shut to me. And yet, when there was no answer to the third pull of the rope, I knew that I was no longer welcome here.

  Gathering my dignity about me as best I could, I turned and walked with a straight back and a slow gait down the broad stairs and over to where my horse waited.

  Mounting, I turned my back on the garden front of the Palace and rode sedately back the way I’d come. I could only hope my face was not pink from embarrassment.

  Richard would have to come here in his official capacity, I told myself. She could not shut out the Regimental Colonel who protected her from the Frontier bandits.

  I went straight to Richard’s office as soon as I reached the cantonment.

  “What is it?” he said, as I was ushered through the door by the Corporal who guarded it.

  “The Maharani has refused to see me.”

  “Has she indeed! I asked Dudley what the temperature was there, and he said they were greeted formally, the carts led around to the stables to be unloaded, and the Maharani’s official, who came out to make a count of the carts and sign off on them, was rather stiff. Of course, this was the middle of the night. But Dudley and his men were not asked to dismount or shown any hospitality. When Dudley asked if the Princess had arrived safely and was all right, the man told him it was not his affair. Dudley took that to mean he was not to expect to interact with the household, and he and his men turned back toward the cantonment.”

  His was not a very forceful presence—I was aware of that. But he could hardly storm the Palace at that hour demanding to speak to someone in charge.

  “I wonder how much Parvati knows about what happened there at the guesthouse. And if that man sent word with her staff that painted his own picture of what was going on.” I bit my lip. “I should have gone with them, Richard. Instead of coming directly back here.”

  Richard shook his head. “They couldn’t go any faster than the bullocks pulling the carts. You’d have been there in the middle of the night yourself, and the Maharani sound asleep in her bed.”

  “Yes, I know, I know. But if we can’t see her—if we can’t ask her help—what are we to do?”

  “I’ll make an official call this afternoon. At the front gates. Flags flying and a mounted troop at my back. We’ll see how the Maharani deals with that.”

  Bess was disappointed that I hadn’t seen Parvati or the baby. But she had other concerns too.

  “Mummy, where is Simon? He’s not in the barracks, he didn’t ride in with my father, and he didn’t return with Major Dudley. Where is he? Do you know? I was hoping to ask the Colonel Sahib, when he came home for his dinner, but he sent word that he was writing reports and would have something brought in from the officers’ mess. Has something happened to Simon? Is that why he was writing reports all day?”

  I was prepared for this too, but I hoped it would go better than the speech I was planning to give the Maharani.

  “There was a problem at the guesthouse yesterday—or the night before, to be precise. Having to do with one of the Prince’s people. Simon and several others have gone back to Rulumpur to sort it all out.”

  It was the story we’d agreed upon, Richard and I.

  But Bess wasn’t having it. “Dr. Broughton isn’t here either. Has Simon been hurt? Was that what happened?”

  “The last time I saw Simon, he was perfectly fine. Dr. Broughton went with me because we didn’t wish to take officers who might be needed here. And you know how prickly the Princes can be about anything affecting their dignity. And a 19-gun salute princedom is often more prickly than most.”

  “The Maharani is a 21-gun salute state.
And she’s never been prickly.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “I just don’t see why Simon had to deal with the problem. He’s got duties here.”

  “Darling, he isn’t just out here to keep you from growing bored,” I said, managing a smile. “He must obey orders as well.”

  She wasn’t satisfied, and I noticed later that she was restless during our meal.

  I wondered if perhaps she was growing too fond of Simon. But I told myself that she had all but grown up with him and had always treated him as a brother.

  Richard came home briefly to change to his dress uniform, and I asked if I could accompany him to the Maharani’s, even though I knew the answer.

  “Dear girl, no,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell you everything. You know I will.”

  When he left, Bess asked, “Why is he calling on the Maharani in his official capacity?”

  “I expect it’s to greet the Prince’s wife. Parvati has status now—she’s not just a friend and playmate.”

  “I suppose.” Clearly at loose ends, she watched her father striding across the parade ground toward his office.

  “Didn’t a packet of new sheet music arrive last week? Have you mastered all of the pieces?”

  “I’m just not in the mood to play. I was writing a letter to Cousin Melinda, and I expect I ought to finish that.”

  I found it just as hard to sit and do nothing while I awaited Richard’s return. Instead, I put a scarf over my hair and began to dust and clean my sitting room. That brought our housekeeper rushing in to take the feather dusters away from me, scolding me for not summoning her and insisting she would see to it at once. I took a turn in the gardens, but as the dry season was coming to its end, so were the blooms on the flowers. The afternoon seemed to crawl by.

  And then I heard the horses coming in, and I knew Richard was back. But he didn’t come at once to the house, and shortly afterward, I saw a mounted runner set out at a gallop.