Sword of Fortune

by Christopher Nicole

  They slept for six hours this time, four off and two on, the man on watch keeping an eye on the distant fires. Richard had no doubt that Peyraud would move out while his fires still burned. So they did the same, and felt their way in the darkness over the uneven, unfamiliar territory.

  *

  Soon after daybreak they debouched into a forested valley. Here the going was even more difficult, as the undergrowth hampered the horses, and it was actually quicker to walk and lead them.

  ‘I think we are out of Sardhana, sahibs,’ Hanif suggested.

  ‘Will those rascals follow?’ Thomas asked.

  ‘They’ll follow,’ Richard told him. ‘Until we stop them.’

  ‘When d’ye reckon to do that, Richard me boy?’

  ‘When they come up to us. Meanwhile, you’ll remember we are in hostile territory.’

  ‘Now that I’d argue,’ Thomas said. ‘Not when they know our purpose.’

  ‘Oh, aye,’ Richard agreed. ‘Supposing they wait to shoot until we tell them.’

  Beyond the valley, the ground began to climb again, and once more they emerged above the tree line. That night was very cold, while of their pursuers there was no sign. Hanif shook Richard awake before dawn.

  ‘There are people, sahib.’

  Richard sat up, listened. A wind soughed through the hills, disguising most sounds, but in one of the lulls he thought he heard the chink of a bridle.

  ‘Herdsmen?’ It was not possible for the French to have caught up with them yet.

  ‘Soldiers, sahib.’

  They awakened Thomas, and moved on. Soon they realised that they were being accompanied, were indeed surrounded, by horsemen.

  ‘Keep going,’ Richard said. ‘We can do nothing until dawn.’

  Slowly the blackness turned to grey, and they could make out the shadowy figures of a good score of mounted Indians, armed with a variety of weapons, mainly swords and spears; there were only half a dozen muskets to be seen.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Richard asked his companions.

  Thus far the Indians had shown no hostility; equally they must be sure that the three strangers were their prisoners.

  ‘A quick charge will take us through them,’ he suggested.

  ‘Not with the wench in tow. And we’ve still that other lot of rascals on our tail,’ Thomas objected. ‘Sure, and aren’t these the people we ’ave come to find? Draw rein and cover me.’

  Richard obeyed the big Irishman; it seemed as good a plan as any. He and Hanif waited, pistols and musket in hand, while Thomas walked his horse away from them.

  The Indians had also halted, and were watching his approach.

  ‘Greetings!’ Thomas called to them, halting when he was about twenty feet away. ‘We are the three most famous warriors in all India. I…’ he thumped his chest. ‘Am George Thomas. I can break any man in two across my thigh. He…’ he turned to point at Richard, ‘is the famous General Bryant, the man who defeated the Allahabad army. And he…’ he pointed at Hanif, ‘is Hanif, the midnight strangler. We seek Appa Khunde Rao, that we may offer him our swords.’

  There was a brief hesitation, then one of the Indians urged his horse forward. ‘I am general to Appa Khunde Rao,’ he said.

  Certainly his clothes were richer than those of his followers, and he had a gold plated pistol thrust through his sash, but he still looked like a brigand.

  ‘Why do you seek service with the Rao?’ he inquired.

  ‘Are you not at war with the Scindhia? Do you not fear the armies of Benoit de Boigne? Do you not need the services of three great warriors?’

  ‘Three men will hardly defeat Benoit,’ the Indian remarked. ‘It would be more useful to kill you and take your weapons.’

  ‘Then do so,’ Thomas told him. ‘If you can.’

  The Indian stared at him, and at Richard and Hanif, who were both trying to look aggressive.

  ‘You would do better to employ us,’ Thomas said, ‘and pit us against the Frenchman. If we fail, then you can think of killing us.’

  ‘Ha,’ the general said. ‘Ha, ha. Perhaps you are right. I will take you to my master, and let him decide.’

  Diary of Mrs Alistair Lamont, 7 April 1781

  The most amazing news has just been received! Richard did not die in the jungle, as we all supposed!! Instead he apparently made his way to the Indian state of Sardhana, and took service with a lady known as the Begum Sombre!!!

  Trust Richard to take service with a lady!!!!

  But more yet, this lady has placed him in command of all of her armies. At the age of twenty-one!!!!!

  And he has gained a great victory outside the city of Allahabad.

  This news arrived from Calcutta by the Indiaman. Allahabad being on the boundary of Bengal, everyone in Calcutta was thrown into a twitter by the supposition that this dreadful renegade (!) intended to avenge himself on the Company by an invasion of its territory.

  However, it seems that he returned to Sardhana following his success, with an immense booty.

  Who would have believed it of dear Richard!

  Uncle Jonathan is quite upset. He says Richard should be hunted down and hanged like a dog. He goes quite red in the face when he says this.

  Captain Lamont keeps asking, who is this fellow?

  Oh, Richard! What a fool I was! But I cannot take all the blame. Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Lucy so belaboured my poor mind with what was right and what was wrong in Bombay, were so determined that marriage to a writer was inconceivable, that I came to believe my passion for you was purely the result of my libidinous nature.

  I do have a libidinous nature. There is no point in denying it.

  I should have been a courtesan.

  Instead of which I am a housewife! And married to a man who is certainly not libidinous!

  Poor, dear Alistair! He tries so hard. But he knows nothing of the art of love, even in conversation…and deems it would be unmanly to attempt to learn.

  How Andrew and I exchange gazes across the dance floor when we meet. How his fingers slide on my arm as we quadrille. He would be at me like a tiger did I but give him the wink!

  Should I? Could I? Dare I? To cuckold a husband is a terrible thing, especially in Bombay!!

  But to live without true love is even more terrible.

  But Andrew! He is a sweet boy, but could he be imagined commanding the army of a Begum?

  Suppose Richard were to return? What would I do? Would I faint? Or would I run to his arms and tell the world to say what it will?

  Oh, Richard!

  I am worse than merely libidinous. I am romantically libidinous! Surely a recipe for disaster!

  7: George the Victorious

  Without Richard noticing, Thomas had become their leader. He did not resent this. He was still only twenty-one, and despite his success at Allahabad he knew he was a novice in the art of war; what had worked against ill-disciplined Indian troops would hardly succeed against men led by Benoit de Boigne.

  Thomas, several years older, was a born leader of men, as he quickly demonstrated.

  Appa Khunde Rao’s walled city of mud-brick houses and temples lay only a march away; the brigand chieftain had sent a patrol into the hills at the news that his border had been crossed by people from Sardhana. Now the commander was prepared to let the white men engage their pursuers, if only to discover why they were fleeing the Begum, and what their mettle truly was.

  But when the French saw that their quarry had been so considerably augmented, they turned back rather than engage.

  *

  Although their city had none of the beauty of Agra, and was indeed a mean, squalid place, the people of Khunde looked prosperous enough, and the valley in which they were situated was pleasantly fertile, but compared with the population of Sardhana they were a timorous, unhappy lot.

  Their leader was obviously of poor quality, as Richard and Thomas realised the moment they were ushered into his presence in what was described as his ‘court’, although Aljai
would hardly have considered it a fit stable for her horses. He stared at them from little eyes, set in a face covered in fat flesh and greasy hair. He wore only a loin cloth, and sat on a dirty cushion, yet was surrounded by a group of fawning people in which half-naked men and even more naked women hovered on his every word.

  ‘Who are these strangers?’ he demanded. ‘They come to my presence still wearing arms.’

  The commander of the patrol, whose name was Prasanna, explained.

  The Rao’s expression grew somewhat less hostile. ‘You are Bryant Sahib?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Richard acknowledged.

  The Rao’s eyes gleamed as he looked at Thomas’s bulk.

  ‘And you will fight for me, against Scindhia?’ he asked him.

  ‘That’s what we’re here to do, your Majesty,’ Thomas told him.

  ‘The Scindhia commands many men, with modern arms,’ the Rao said. ‘My men are few, and ill-armed.’

  Richard was tempted to point out that he should have considered that before beginning his rebellion.

  But Thomas merely grinned. ‘We’re here to change all that, your honour.’

  Appa’s obvious desire to see that happen was almost pathetic.

  *

  Thomas took no pains to hide his contempt.

  ‘You have been in arms against Scindhia now for three years,’ he observed, as he and Richard accompanied the Rao on a tour of the fort and general defences, which, being built of baked mud, were not entirely reassuring. ‘And his armies have not marched against you?’

  ‘Mahadoji has had other matters that are more pressing,’ Appa explained. ‘But I have heard that an expedition is now being prepared.’

  ‘Ah,’ Thomas said. ‘And you have done nothing but wait? Why have you not expanded your power, sought allies?’

  ‘Where am I to do these things? To the south lies the territory of the Peshwa, and the Marathas. They are the enemies of all mankind. To the east, as you well know, lies the territory of the Begum Sombre. She too is the enemy of all mankind.’

  ‘Damnation to the Begum,’ the Irishman said, drinking half of his mug and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘What about north?’

  ‘To the north is impenetrable jungle,’ Appa replied.

  Richard frowned. ‘It is marked on the map as the viceroyalty of Hariana,’ he said.

  ‘That is an old map,’ Appa told him. ‘It was the viceroyalty of Hariana, many many years ago. But the city, Hansi, was abandoned in consequence of a plague, and no one has been there for fifty years. Now it is inhabited only by a single fakir and two lions.’

  ‘Lions?’ Richard asked. ‘There are no lions in India.’

  ‘There are lions in Hansi,’ Appa irisisted.

  ‘You have been there?’ Thomas asked.

  ‘I have no need to. Where there were once cultivated fields is now, as I have said, impenetrable jungle. It is called the Green Land.’

  ‘Hm,’ Thomas remarked thoughtfully. ‘Deserted, ye say.’ Then he returned to the matter in hand. ‘So you have got yourself hemmed in. What’s your strength in fighting men?’

  ‘I have six hundred men who answer my call,’ Appa said proudly.

  ‘De Boigne has six thousand,’ Richard told him.

  Appa’s shoulder bowed. ‘This I know.’

  ‘What did you have in mind when you started the revolt?’

  ‘Scindhia’s taxes are intolerable. We will defend our city.’

  ‘City, ye call it!’ Thomas snorted in English.

  ‘De Boigne also has cannon,’ Richard pointed out with gloomy satisfaction.

  ‘In fact,’ he said to Thomas, when they returned to the house which had been given them. ‘This is a pretty desperate business, George. Our best bet is to make our escape and continue west, to offer our services to de Boigne himself.’

  Thomas was watching the two Indian girls preparing their dinners, contemptuously supervised by Biriappa. They were dark-skinned, slender, and graceful in fluttering saris.

  ‘I like it here,’ he said. ‘Besides, we promised to help the rascal. We’ll keep our word, Richard me boy. And prosper.’

  ‘How?’

  Thomas tapped his nose. ‘I’ve plans.’

  ‘I do not like this place, Richard Sahib,’ Hanif confided, after Thomas had taken one of the serving girls, whose name was Multi, to bed. ‘It is dirty and uncouth.’

  ‘You’ve become too used to luxury,’ Richard told him.

  ‘I do not trust this Appa. He would as soon murder us as employ us.’

  ‘Now there I would say you are wrong,’ Richard said. ‘He’ll employ us as long as he considers we can defeat de Boigne. If we lose, now…’

  ‘How can we not lose, sahib? We have nothing with which to fight. Biriappa does not like it here either,’ he added.

  Richard looked at the girl patiently grinding coriander seed in the corner. He did not know what to do about her. Hanif was very fond of her, but Richard could not overcome his suspicion of her. If she was still obeying her mistress, what other instructions had she been given?

  ‘She’ll get used to it,’ he told Hanif. ‘Our business is to help George Sahib create an army.’

  Because that is the only way I will ever be able to return to Sardhana, he thought.

  It was a salutary realisation that he was once more a penniless outcast, dependent only on his weapons and his courage for survival. That he had been forced to abandon not only wife and child, but also the sizeable fortune the Begum had bestowed upon him.

  Yet he was not altogether miserable. In exchange he had gained something which might prove more valuable than all the rupees in Aljai’s treasure chest: the friendship of George Thomas.

  *

  Thomas’s first task was to increase the size of the Khunde army. To do this, he held a levee of the entire population, and conscripted another six hundred men and boys.

  ‘They will accomplish nothing,’ Appa protested. ‘They are untouchables, useless creatures.’

  ‘They have arms and legs,’ Thomas told him. ‘Untouchables, eh? I aim to make them just that, but as soldiers.’

  He and Richard spent all day every day drilling their men. Half of them were turned into cavalry.

  ‘I surely wish we had a few more muskets,’ Thomas grumbled.

  ‘What’s wrong with bows and arrows?’ Richard suggested.

  The problem was lack of suitable wood, which was why the people of Khunde had never used the bow. ‘Thomas sent his men far and wide to look for yew-substitutes, and found an adequate supply. Richard showed them how to make the bows and the arrows, and then taught them marksmanship. It was a slow business, and they were conscious of working against time, but it now seemed evident that de Boigne would not move against Khunde until after the next monsoon.

  It was also a rewarding business, for while Appa and his warriors looked on in disbelief and disapproval, the untouchables gained in proficiency, and became utterly devoted to their teachers. Even when off duty they would squat around the house Richard and Thomas occupied.

  Thomas insisted upon equipping his brigade with uniforms, even if he had to use whatever happened to be available, which consisted of some bales of red cloth. Thus each man was given a red tunic to wear over his white dhoti; his legs were left bare, and he retained his white turban.

  Richard, Hanif and Thomas had arrived in Khunde with their clothes virtually in rags. Now they too wore red jackets, over white breeches, with black boots, and white cloth kepis.

  Thomas, revealing an unsuspected ability as a blacksmith, made himself a chain mail cuirass, which he wore over his tunic, creating a remarkable effect. He offered to make one for Richard, but Richard refused; campaigning in the Indian sun was hot enough without wearing armour.

  Finally, Thomas forged himself a great two-handed sword, similar to the one Richard had seen in pictures, wielded by Richard the Lion-Heart.

  Then he held a review of his battalion. ‘Now I’m ready to go t
o war,’ he told Appa.

  ‘Untouchables in red jackets!’ Appa snorted in disgust. The serving girls, also untouchables, were equally devoted to their masters. ‘They soon became much more than servants. Thomas referred to them as wives. It was a situation in which Richard, used both to the comforts of a woman about the house and to the eroticism of Aljai, willingly concurred. His ‘wife’ was named Tanna. Both she and Multi were sweetly sensuous, and if no woman could replace the memory of Caty, he knew he might go far before discovering another woman as faithfully determined to please him.

  But as the monsoon rains began to sweep the country, he realised that several months had already passed since he and Thomas and Hanif had fled Agra. Aljai had told him to return in a year, in triumph. He was not even sure what she had meant by that, but clearly it involved sufficient force to overawe or destroy Peyraud.

  He would not do it with this small army, even were it not destined to fight elsewhere.

  Not even Tanna could solace him that night.

  *

  With the ending of the rains, Thomas sent Hanif with a mounted patrol to the west to see what he could discover of the Scindhia’s forces. They returned to say that the Scindhia’s army was definitely on the march, even if Hanif did not know for sure that de Boigne was in command.

  ‘There are two thousand men,’ Hanif told them. ‘Many are Frenchmen, and three hundred are cavalry.’

  ‘Has he artillery?’ Richard asked.

  ‘We saw no guns, sahib.’

  ‘That is hardly a third of his army,’ Richard said.

  ‘He is treating us with contempt, Appa,’ Thomas said. ‘He reckons he can brush aside your army and take your town with no more than a brigade.’

  ‘He will cut off my head,’ Appa wailed.

  ‘He has to catch hold of it first,’ Thomas reminded him. ‘You must assemble your people and put Khunde in the best possible state of defence.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I will take my people and see what can be done.’

  ‘You will pit untouchables against de Boigne? At odds of three to one?’

  ‘We certainly can’t all sit here, Appa, and let him come to us. If he does nothing else, he will devastate your fields and drive off your cattle.’