Sword of Fortune

by Christopher Nicole

  No one else slept with Caty.

  The Begum agreed to Richard’s plans for Hanif. Hanif was given a choice of twelve virgins, and chose one named Biriappa, an extremely pretty girl, dark-skinned and supple.

  ‘Have you achieved your ambition, Hanif?’ Richard asked him.

  Hanif replied. ‘I am happy, sahib, but I do not think either of us yet has yet achieved his ambition.’

  Richard knew what he meant. He could not help but be aware that both he and Aljai were sitting on a powder keg, of resentment amongst the officers, of bored discontent amongst the soldiers.

  His personal position among the officers was strong. They were afraid of him. Peyraud had represented him as a veritable demon, and they had truly come to believe it after the assassination of Marcel. Bold fighting men as they were, and quick to take and give offence, the Frenchmen were in no mood to challenge the tall, lean figure who always had two pistols thrust into his belt. He did not propose to disillusion them. If anything, he felt a growing confidence in himself.

  The soldiers were a different matter. They knew what their strength would mean against one man, however courageous.

  ‘They must be led,’ he kept telling Aljai. ‘Surely matters are sufficiently under control here for me to undertake a campaign. It is necessary, Highness. You must believe this.’

  ‘Then go,’ she replied one day. ‘Go and get yourself killed, if that is what you most desire.’

  ‘I will go and triumph, in Scindhia.’

  ‘No,’ she said. Not against de Boigne. He is too powerful even for you, my Richard. Go east, into Allahabad. That is where you will find fame and fortune. But you will take no cannon with you.’

  Her battery of six brass cannon, bequeathed to her by Sombre, were her most valued possessions, even more so than her wealth because they symbolised her power.

  As he knew nothing about artillery, he did not suppose he would miss them.

  She seized his hand. ‘Go, and triumph, and come back to me, my Richard.’

  Caty was even more distressed. Her belly was now swollen, and she insisted that without him she was lost.

  ‘Hanif will look after you,’ he assured her.

  This upset Hanif. ‘Am I not to accompany you, sahib?’ he demanded.

  ‘You have a greater responsibility here, looking after the memsahib,’ Richard told him. ‘And your own woman.’

  He himself was like a dog with two tails. He was living the life of a soldier, and been given high command, without ever having been on a campaign. Now, at last, he would prove himself.

  *

  The army left Agra as soon as the monsoon ended. Aljai insisted that he take Peyraud along as well, and Richard was happy to agree, because he trusted the Frenchman’s ability and at the same time did not trust him sufficiently to leave him behind in Agra. Neither did Aljai, apparently; she made it perfectly plain that she expected them both to return, or certain evidence that the one who didn’t had died in battle rather than by the hand of his rival.

  They commanded a sizeable force, five hundred horse and a thousand foot, three hundred of them Frenchmen. But Richard intended nothing more than a raid, and he hoped to be in and out of the viceroyalty of Allahabad before any army could be concentrated against him.

  As far as he could gather, Allahabad offered an easy target for a first campaign. It could be approached by following the course of the Jumna, skirting the central hills rather than crossing them, and it lacked an organised mercenary army. It was certainly a rich place. Situated at the junction of the Jumna and Ganges rivers, the capital city of the state of Allahabad was one of the holy places of the Hindus, and not far beyond, further down the Ganges, lay the even more sacred city of Benares.

  Richard was in two minds whether to go that far. Benares was too close to the borders of Bengal, which lay under the suzerainty of the Company. To oppose Warren Hastings in the field would surely be to place himself beyond any hope of ever being pardoned by the British.

  And in his heart he did want that, just as he wanted to learn what had happened to Barbara Smythe, and Albert Forsythe, and all of the people on whom he had been forced to turn his back.

  But first, the campaign. He wondered at his lack of conscience as he led his men across the border of the neighbouring state. He was going to war, undeclared, and for no other reason than to satisfy his men. It was a grim world. He could only remind himself that these people had warred often enough against the British, and would again, for no better reason.

  It all seemed simple enough to begin with. People fled before them. Villages were looted and burned, vast stores of cattle and slaves were accumulated and sent back to Agra under guard. The guard had to be men he could trust not to desert with their booty, so Richard had to relinquish a hundred of his precious Europeans. He was, indeed, tempted to abandon the entire campaign at this point. They had accomplished what they had set out to do, and had lost but a single man—and him to a snake bite. But he sensed that he was on trial, and that to pull back without having fought at least one action would do his reputation no good; he always had in mind Aljai’s warning that the slightest check could lead to his assassination. With the remainder of their force, therefore, he and Peyraud pressed on, and after a march of several weeks along the banks of the river, came in sight of Allahabad.

  Although the site had been occupied for many centuries, under the name of Prayag, the city of al-Ilahabad, the City of God, had only been refounded by Akbar in 1583. It was defended by one of the square sandstone forts that the Great Mughal had built wherever his armies had followed him. But it had been a holy site long before that, and indeed close by the fort was one of the pillars erected by Ashoka, more than two hundred years before the birth of Christ.

  Word of the invasion had spread, and an army had gathered outside the city. Richard and Peyraud inspected the enemy through their telescopes.

  ‘At least two thousand infantry in the centre,’ Peyraud said. ‘Perhaps five hundred cavalry on each wing. A battery of artillery. And,’ he snorted with contempt, ‘six war elephants.’

  He glanced at Richard, waiting for comment, just as he had waited throughout the campaign for his general to make some mistake, or prove himself less of a man than he pretended.

  But up to now it had all been easy.

  Richard surveyed the enemy at some length. They wore red tunics and white breeches, and looked for all the world like Company troops.

  Again he had a sudden urge to withdraw without a fight. They had campaigned, and the men were surely happy with the loot they had already secured.

  But to do that within sight of the enemy would be disastrous. And in any event, it would not succeed; the Allahabad army would simply follow him and force a battle.

  On the other hand, he could not seek Peyraud’s advice on how to fight the battle without a total loss of prestige.

  Thus he had to make his own decisions, and his own dispositions. He had to start by deciding what advantages if any, he possessed.

  At first sight it seemed his only advantage was an absence of any obviously European troops on the other side. But that would only be apparent once the two forces came together. How to achieve that without being blasted by the enemy artillery was his main problem.

  Again he swung his telescope, inspecting the country now, and also trying to remember what he had read about the campaigns of Clive and others.

  The river was to his right, and from it extended a series of ditches, dug to irrigate the rice paddies, immediately between his force and the enemy. ‘They accounted for the peculiar formation of the Allahabad army. With the exception of the left wing of their cavalry, they were turned obliquely away from the river, almost side on to his force, facing the open country to the east of the waterlogged fields, obviously considering them impassable.

  The artillery was concentrated with the elephants, in front of the infantry. The right wing was composed of cavalry. The Allahabad army was armed with a mixture of modern and ancie
nt weapons and, from what Richard had read, very ancient ideas.

  Obviously the elephants were the most vulnerable part of the enemy army; they could be wounded and encouraged to stampede. Otherwise, the enemy had the advantage of artillery, and outnumbered the Sardhana force by two to one.

  Richard studied the cavalry to the left. Here again, the Allahabad commander was fighting from some long outdated routine, in that he had divided his cavalry between his flanks, ignoring the fact that his left flank was faced with impassable terrain.

  He also observed that the enemy forces were distinctly restless, both men and horses moving to and fro, stamping, whereas the Sardhana men were patiently resting on their arms. They had total confidence in their officers.

  ‘What are you dispositions, General?’ Peyraud asked.

  ‘How wide are those paddies, would you estimate?’

  Peyraud levelled his glass. ‘Each perhaps fifty metres. They know we cannot cross them.’

  ‘A small body of men can enter them, Colonel.’

  ‘And be cut to pieces?’

  Richard persisted. ‘But if we cannot cross them, can the enemy?’

  Peyraud frowned, and pulled his nose.

  ‘We will do as they expect us to,’ Richard told him. ‘Most of us, that is. But I wish you to take the two hundred French infantry and enter the paddies. You will advance as rapidly as you can, taking care to keep your powder dry.’

  Peyraud snorted. ‘You are sending me to my death.’

  ‘I am sending you to gain a great victory,’ Richard told him. ‘Advance as far as you can, but leave yourself time to reach one of the inner dams between the fields before any enemy force can approach you. When they do approach you, as I am sure they will, form your men along the dam as a breastwork and fire by volley, as accurately as you can.’

  ‘We will be up to our waists in water,’ Peyraud objected.

  ‘Is that going to do you any harm?’

  Peyraud snorted again. ‘Am I allowed to inquire, mon General, what you will be doing during this senseless manoeuvre?’

  ‘I will be advancing against the enemy with the remainder of the army.’

  ‘Over good ground.’

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ Richard said with a grin. ‘The business is a simple one, Jacques. If the enemy ignore you, and allow you to enter the last of those paddies, beyond which you will not advance, they will also allow you within musket range of their army, with an enfilading fire. I do not believe they can permit this. They will detach forces to deal with you before you can reach so dangerous a position. I believe they may even send the elephants against you, as the elephants will not be concerned about the water. Once they do that, we have them, providing you and your men shoot as straight as I know you can.’

  Peyraud pulled his nose. ‘It is at least a bold plan.’

  ‘And it will succeed for us.’ Richard clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Let us be about it. Begin your advance the moment the enemy opens fire.’

  *

  He rode to the front of his men, and signalled the drummers to commence their beat. The cavalry he sent at a walk on his left, the Indian infantry marched behind him. He remained mounted, although as he had no experience of fighting a battle on horseback; he intended to dismount before closing with the enemy.

  But then, he had no experience of fighting a battle on foot, either.

  He was delighted to find that he was not afraid. Rather, he was curious to discover if his plan was going to work. That he was a dead man if it did not work did not seem to matter.

  The sun was hot now, yet the army moved briskly. From time to time Richard swung his glass to inspect the enemy. As yet they had not moved, although a great deal of noise was coming from their ranks, drums beating, trumpets blowing, and cymbals clashing, as they observed the predictable movement of the Sardhana army. That two hundred men had been left on the hilltop would not seem strange to men who did not know his plan; they would assume them to be guarding his right and rear, to prevent the Allahabad cavalry walking their horses through the water once his main force was fully engaged.

  In front of him a cannon exploded. They were still at maximum range, and the ball, bouncing across the ground, caused no damage. But it was the signal he wanted.

  He looked back up the hill, and experienced a brief moment of unease. Peyraud showed no sign of moving. It would be easy for the Frenchman to stand fast until it was too late, and let his youthful general be cut to pieces.

  But then he saw the pale blue coats advancing slowly down the hill to enter the first paddy.

  He wondered if the Allahabad general saw it too. Now the cannonade was continuous. Clouds of white smoke rose above the gunners, and cannon balls were bouncing about in every direction. Richard had his men advancing in open order, and casualties were light. Even so, it was the first time Richard had ever seen a man struck by a cannonball in battle. The severed limbs, the spurting blood, the pain and shock, all sickened him.

  But he dared not let anyone see it, and waved his sword to urge his men forward.

  To his right Peyraud and his small force had crossed the first paddy and were clambering over the ditch. At last the enemy was responding; the cavalry were trotting forward.

  ‘Halt!’ Richard shouted. ‘Halt, and lie down.’

  His men, still out of musket range, willingly obeyed.

  Richard levelled his telescope, watched the Allahabad cavalry, almost daintily, enter the water and splash their way forward. Peyraud was three paddy fields from the inner, commanding position. He had his men superbly in hand, and now he threw them against the inner dam, their muskets thrust forward. As the cavalry floundered towards him, he opened fire by volleys. Men and horses went down, and the cavalry, entirely unsuited for the terrain, hastily fell back.

  Instantly Peyraud waved his men over the dam and seized control of another field.

  By now the Allahabad army was decidedly unsettled, and attempted to do several things at once, exactly as Richard had hoped.

  The elephants were moved out of the line and sent into the paddies, supported by two detachment of infantry.

  The cannonfire, which had slackened, once again became intense. And the right wing Allahabad cavalry trotted forward, obviously intending first to disperse the Sardhana cavalry, and then to fall upon the infantry.

  Things were working out better than he could have hoped. He raised his sword and signalled to Colonel le Cocq, who was commanding the cavalry. His men were the best disciplined of the entire Sardhana army, and were devoted to him. Le Cocq signalled back.

  As the Allahabad cavalry advanced, the Sardhana horsemen, after some apparent hesitation, pretended to withdraw. The Allahabad cavalry gave a great cheer and urged their horses to the gallop.

  The Sardhana cavalry promptly halted, dismounted, levelled their muskets and, as the enemy came within range, delivered a devastating volley. As on the right wing, men and horses fell in confusion, and before they could recover le Cocq had his men mounted again and was leading them forward. They crashed into the disorganised enemy and sent them reeling from the field.

  Things were going just as well on the right. The elephants tramped on through the plashy fields, awaited with the utmost calm by Peyraud and his men. As soon as the huge beasts came within range, the infantrymen again began to fire by volleys. The elephants hesitated as they were stung by the flying lead, then one fell, spilling his mahout and the marksmen in his howdah into the paddy.

  Instantly the others began to panic, rushing around and trumpeting deafeningly. The mahouts could do no more than drive their iron spikes into the brains of their unmanageable beasts, to prevent further injury and carnage. The field became a chaos of screaming elephants and shouting men.

  Peyraud took advantage of the disorder to advance his men another paddy field, which brought them within range of the infantry supporting the elephants. The Frenchmen now poured in a volley, and the infantry too began to break up and retreat.

  The Sardha
na troops carried the victory on each wing. Richard waved his sword and his infantrymen rose as one and followed him in the charge, bayonets glinting in the mid-day sun.

  The artillery delivered one last blast, which struck down a good score of men. Le Cocq’s cavalry, having driven their enemies from the field, were now preparing to charge the Allahabad foot.

  Richard halted his men as soon as they were within a hundred yards of the guns, dressed ranks, and delivered a volley. That was enough for the gunners, who promptly fled.

  This left only the infantry of the Allahabad centre, still some two thousand strong and therefore still outnumbering the entire Sardhana army. But they were being assailed from three sides, by Peyraud on the right, by le Cocq on the left, and by Richard in the centre. They stayed to deliver one volley, then also broke and fled, all except for a knot of some forty men, who stood their ground. Even now they charged Richard’s men.

  They were led by a huge fellow, well over six feet tall, with a ruddy complexion and fair hair, who, incredibly, wore a chainmail vest and waved a navy cutlass in one hand and a spent pistol in the other, and shouted at his men in a variety of languages.

  Richard had actually noticed the huge figure earlier, apparently in charge of the guns, without discerning his colouring. So there had been a European in the enemy army after all. He had been carried away from the cannon while vainly attempting to rally his fleeing gunners. Now he seemed determined to die rather than admit defeat.

  Richard watched him in fascination, even as he commanded his men to load and fire into the advancing group. Several fell, but to his relief the big man seemed unharmed.

  Suddenly the giant stood alone, as his followers broke and ran behind the rest.

  The big man faced the bayonets of the Sardhana infantry, his lips drawn back in a wolfish grin. He was not a handsome man, his features were too large, but there was an enormous élan about him, even as he looked at certain death.