Sword of Fortune

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘And rape my women and murder my men,’ Appa said dolefully.

  ‘Exactly so. Thus we must stop him if we can. I’ll need some muskets. Sixty will do.’

  Appa glared at him. ‘You mean to disarm my men and then ride off and desert me.’

  ‘Faith and begorrah, man, would I not have done that long ago if such was my intention?’

  Appa brooded, but made no further demur.

  That afternoon Thomas, Richard and Hanif led their men out of the town, watched by the assembled populace.

  ‘What’s your plan?’ Richard asked when they camped, some distance from the town.

  ‘That depends on the country. But if it is all like this, hills and ravines and valleys, then we must work on an ambuscade.’

  ‘How may six hundred men ambush two thousand?’

  ‘They’ll be in column, Richard lad,’ Thomas grinned.

  Two days later he rode on ahead with Hanif and a small party, to reconnoitre; Richard was left in command of the main force, marching west. The men were not the least afraid; they were delighted to be treated as men after years of degradation, and had the utmost faith in their officers.

  Thomas returned the following night, exhausted but pleased. ‘I’ve found the very place,’ he declared. ‘Here’s what we’ll do.’

  Richard listened carefully to his plan and next day, as instructed, took a hundred mounted infantry—they could hardly be used as cavalry in view of their lack of training—and rode on in front of the main body commanded by Thomas.

  With Hanif to guide him, he made his way to where the hills debouched into another of the sudden, fertile valleys. In fact there were two valleys. The northerly one, although under some cultivation, was subsidiary to the other. Here there was water, and a village of people who paid their taxes to Appa.

  ‘We have heard a mighty army comes,’ the headman told Richard dolefully.

  ‘That is true,’ Richard agreed. ‘You must take your people and escape into the hills until they have passed.’

  ‘What of our crops? Our animals?’

  ‘You may take what you can with you. But you will have to leave some of your animals.’

  His heart bled for the unhappy victims of a war which could bring them nothing but disaster, as they filed out of their valley, making for the hills, each family with its pitiful bundle of possessions.

  Once the villagers were gone, he and his men set up house, as it were, killing one of the goats for food. They kept their horses close to hand, and Richard sent a picket down to the end of the valley as a guard.

  Twenty-four hours later they galloped back to say that the Scindhia cavalry were approaching.

  Richard sent sixty of his men, those armed with muskets under the command of Hanif, back to the head of the valley. The other forty lounged around the village, as though they suspected nothing, and it was not until the Scindhia horsemen were in sight that Richard told them to mount up, with as much noise and confusion as possible, as if totally surprised, and ride for the eastern head of the valley.

  As expected, the enemy raised a great shout and galloped in pursuit. Richard’s men gained the high ground in sufficient time, however, and rode through the rocks, from which Hanif s men promptly opened fire. The shooting was wild but effective, as the Scindhia horse tried to force their way up the rock-strewn defile. Bullets ricocheted in every direction, and several men were hit. The enemy fell back into the valley.

  ‘That was well done,’ Thomas told Richard, having ridden over to make sure the first part of his plan had worked. ‘Now we must hope that de Boigne, or whoever it is commands those fellows, does everything a general should.’

  The enemy did not disappoint them.

  Next morning the valley below was filled with troops, feasting off the abandoned herd, generally regaling themselves, while their officers rode forward and surveyed the situation through their glasses. Thomas and Richard inspected the group in turn, through the one telescope Appa possessed. There seemed to be two officers, one tall and thin, the other short and stout.

  ‘Which one d’ye reckon is de Boigne?’ Thomas asked.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Richard confessed.

  Both appeared to be totally confident. Boldly they advanced within musket range, studying the terrain, whereupon Richard’s men opened fire, carefully instructed not to aim at the enemy generals.

  Several members of their staff were hit, however, and the entire group retired out of range.

  ‘He’ll be working out that to storm a position this strong will be costly,’ Thomas said happily. Now he should take the next step.’

  The French did that in the late afternoon. One of the generals—the tall, thin one—led another body of men out of the western end of the valley and round to the northern valley. Once again they cautiously approached the eastern end. As the sun was setting Thomas and Richard dared not use their glass in case it reflected. Instead they watched from behind boulders as the enemy came closer and closer. Their men were already posted, and they could only hope that no one was foolish enough to betray their position by firing.

  The commanding officer rode to within a hundred yards of the head of the valley, then turned and rode back again, keeping his horse to a walk. His staff followed him.

  ‘Do you not suppose we could have killed or captured the general, sahibs?’ Hanif asked.

  ‘Possibly,’ Thomas agreed. ‘But that would have given away our position, and there’s always the other fellow waiting to step into de Boigne’s shoes, who may not be as skilled in warfare. And it’s de Boigne I prefer to deal with.’

  That night the entire Khunde force stood to, and sure enough, before dawn, the sounds of movement were heard in the northern valley. The French general had, as Thomas had intended, considered he was opposed by nothing more than brigands, who had been too careless to block the heads of both valleys. Presented with the opportunity to turn their position so easily, he had not sought to find another way.

  ‘Campaigning against inferior foes makes a man soft, they say,’ Thomas said with satisfaction.

  The darkness began to lighten, and they could make out the head of the column approaching. The Scindhia commander was using his precious Frenchmen as the spearhead, confident that a few volleys from his musketeers would send the tribesmen fleeing.

  Thomas and Richard crawled from position to position, warning their men not to fire until the command was given, while the French came closer and closer, bayonets gleaming as the sun rose behind the Khunde men and shone into the eyes of the advancing French.

  The head of the column was virtually through the pass, and on to the high ground beyond, and another mass of men was starting to move up the valley, when Thomas shouted, ‘Now!’

  As one man the Khunde bowmen rose to their feet and loosed their shafts.

  This shooting was brilliantly accurate, and the more terrible for being so quiet. One moment the French column were picking their way through the rocks, the next they were in disarray, some score of men lying on the ground pouring blood, the others looking left and right and firing their muskets at empty rocks, for the Khunde men had ducked back into concealment.

  Their second volley sent the enemy retreating down the hill, still firing aimlessly for want of a target.

  There was a flurry of activity in the valley, and horsemen rode forward.

  ‘’Tis the man himself,’ Thomas commented, peering through his glass. ‘I wonder what he’ll make of the arrows.’

  ‘Our men beg permission to despatch the wounded, sahib,’ Hanif said.

  Thomas shook his head. ‘We’ll fight like civilised gentlemen, ye heathen devil. No massacrin’, and no castratin’ either. It’s not my plan to drive de Boigne into a frenzy.’

  The Indians muttered amongst themselves as the wounded French painfully dragged themselves back down the hill to their comrades; about a dozen had been killed outright and remained amongst the rocks.

  It was now broad daylight, and the vultures arri
ved to start work. The French pitched their camps in each valley, while their leaders conferred.

  The Khunde brigade watched from the hilltop.

  ‘What next, do you suppose?’ Richard asked.

  ‘A parley.’

  ‘Will it be as easy as that?’

  Thomas grinned. ‘Only if we make it so, old son. De Boigne will be hoping to discover something about the size of the force we have here. Now here’s what we do.’

  He gave his orders, and half his men walked their horses back from their position for well over a mile, leaving relays of single men every two hundred yards, well-concealed but able to transmit signals. Then they settled down to wait. Sure enough, at about five in the afternoon, just as the heat was beginning to leave the sun, a group of horsemen rode forward beneath a white flag.

  They approached cautiously, guiding their mounts amongst the rocks, looking anxiously up at the slopes to either side; obviously they had no way of knowing whether their flag of truce would be recognised by brigands.

  Thomas let them come right up the pass almost on to the high ground before he checked them.

  Twelve musketeers stepped forward, their pieces presented. With them were Richard and Thomas, hands resting on their pistols.

  ‘Mon Dieu!’ exclaimed the commander of the party. ‘Mais vous êtes Européens.’

  ‘But not Frenchmen, sir,’ Richard told him, also in French.

  Thomas spoke no French, and remained silent.

  ‘We understood there were more than simple Indian bandits opposed to us,’ the colonel said. ‘Is it permitted to dismount?’

  Richard nodded, and they swung from their saddles. As they did so, Thomas had sent his first signal, and there came a flurry of dust and a clatter of hooves a few hundred yards away. The Frenchmen could not see into the slight dip, but it certainly sounded like a large body of horsemen changing position.

  ‘My name is Jonquet,’ the colonel said.

  ‘Richard Bryant, at your service.’

  ‘Bryant! But we have heard of you, mon général. Are these Sardhana men that you command?’

  Clearly he was expecting to be told that the Begum Sombre had invaded Scindhia.

  ‘These men serve Appa Khunde Rao,’ Richard told him. ‘And their commanding officer is General Thomas here. He would be obliged if you would speak Hindustani, monsieur.’

  Jonquet gazed at the huge Irishman, at the chain mail and the great sword, and his hand moved, almost as if he would have crossed himself.

  Hanif, in all the splendour of his new uniform, galloped up, threw himself from the saddle, saluted, and addressed Thomas. ‘The Twelfth Brigade approaches, sir. It needs to know its dispositions.’

  Thomas pointed. ‘You’ll form your men over there, colonel. Behind that hill.’

  Hanif saluted again, remounted and galloped off.

  Jonquet swallowed. ‘You dispose of a sizeable force, sir,’ he said in Hindustani.

  ‘Appa Khunde Rao has many men,’ Thomas told him.

  ‘He is a rebel against Scindhia,’ Jonquet said.

  ‘He is the ruler of Khunde and the adjoining country,’ Thomas said. ‘Scindhia must accept this, and treat with him as an equal.’

  ‘And he has many men,’ Jonquet muttered, watching a cloud of dust which he took to be the arrival of the Twelfth Brigade.

  ‘More recruits arrive every day,’ Richard said.

  ‘What does Appa Khunde Rao want of Scindhia?’ Jonquet asked.

  ‘Why, to be left in peaceful possession of his domains,’ Richard said.

  Jonquet gave a last look around. ‘I will tell my general,’ he said, and withdrew.

  ‘George, that was brilliant,’ Richard told Thomas.

  Thomas winked. ‘Now we must see if it works.’

  *

  They remained in position all night, as did the Scindhia army. Next morning there came a fresh flag of truce.

  ‘My commander, General Pedron, would speak with you himself,’ Jonquet said.

  ‘Ye mean it’s not de Boigne down there?’ Thomas demanded in disgust.

  ‘Marechal de Boigne commands the entire army,’ Jonquet said. ‘This is but a brigade.’

  ‘Now there’s a disappointment,’ Thomas said. ‘Pedron, ye say. Ah, well, beggars can’t be choosers. Listen to me, Colonel Jonquet. Tell your general to withdraw his forces to the far end of the valley, and approach with an escort of not more than four men. I will do the same, and we will meet at the foot of that slope.’

  ‘That is virtually within range of your people,’ Jonquet objected. ‘How can I assure my general there will be no treachery?’

  ‘If he is not prepared to take the word of an Irish gentleman, then there can be no parley,’ Thomas said with dignity.

  Jonquet withdrew.

  Thomas took Richard with him, and three troopers; Hanif was left in command of the brigade. Not that there was any risk of treachery from the French side: the Khunde position overlooked the entire valley.

  Pedron turned out to be the short, plump officer of the day before. He was accompanied by the tall man, as well as Colonel Jonquet and two other officers. Thomas and Richard dismounted to receive him.

  Pedron did not look pleased to see them, and gazed at them with pretended contempt although, like Jonquet the previous day, he could not but look twice at Thomas’s equipment. ‘I am General Pedron, of the army of Scindhia,’ he announced, and indicated the tall man. ‘This is my commander of cavalry, General Sutherland, and my commander of infantry, General Gardiner.’

  ‘Faith and begorrah,’ Thomas commented. ‘Them’s two of yours, Dick lad.’

  ‘An Irish renegade, by God,’ Gardiner commented, also speaking English. He was a heavy-set man with a red face.

  ‘Sure now, and what would ye call verself?’ Thomas inquired. ‘Save that ye cannot even lay claim to be Irish?’

  Gardiner glared at him, and Richard suspected the parley might end in a fight before it had properly begun.

  ‘Shall we sit, gentlemen?’ he suggested.

  Pedron snapped his fingers, and one of his aides hastily produced a folding stool, on which the general sat. Sutherland and Gardiner remained standing beside him.

  Thomas and Richard sat on the ground, their swords across their laps; the three troopers stood behind them.

  ‘I’m told one of you “gentlemen” is Richard Bryant,’ Pedron said, in Hindustani. ‘The Begum’s general.’

  ‘I am he,’ Richard acknowledged.

  ‘Are you here on her behalf?’

  ‘We are here on behalf of Appa Khunde Rao.’

  ‘You’ve absconded from the Begum?’

  ‘The Begum is a changeable mistress,’ Richard agreed.

  ‘Why not tell the general the truth,’ Thomas said. ‘The Begum’s French soldiers did not appreciate being commanded by an Englishman, yer honour.’

  ‘An Englishman who is a mere boy,’ Pedron commented. ‘So now you fight for a brigand.’

  ‘There was little choice,’ Richard pointed out.

  ‘I’d advise you to reconsider your position, General. Appa is in arms against his rightful ruler. We know that he has sent an emissary to Delhi seeking the patronage of the Great Mughal. Things being what they are, he may well receive such patronage, hut it will make no difference. Mahadoji Scindhia is determined to reclaim his territory. And he will do so. There is no army Appa can muster, no commanders he can employ, who can withstand the full might of the Scindhia. How can you hope to oppose modern weapons with bows and arrows?’

  Thomas looked over his shoulder; further up the pass the crows were still busy.

  ‘An ambuscade,’ Sutherland commented, contemptuously.

  ‘Will your men take on one of those every league all the way to Khunde?’ Thomas asked.

  The Englishman attempted to stare him down, and failed.

  ‘It will be difficult, and perhaps costly,’ Pedron acknowledged. ‘But they will do it if they have to. You are surely aware that Ma
réchal de Boigne has at his disposal many more men than you see here.’

  ‘Then go get ’em,’ Thomas said. ‘And yer precious marshal. I’ve not killed a man yet today.’

  Sutherland turned to Richard. ‘Is he as barbaric as he pretends?’

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ Richard said.

  ‘You make a dangerous pair,’ Pedron remarked. ‘Gentlemen, as I have just pointed out, you would be well advised to reconsider your position. On behalf of Marechal de Boigne I am prepared to offer you employment with his army. I am prepared to give you field rank, immediately, and place you each in command of a regiment of native foot. Or horse, if you prefer. You will belong to the finest army in India. I say that without reservation. Your pay and service conditions will also be of the best. You will be allowed to bring with you any personal servants, or women, to whom you may be attached. The condition is that you abandon this wretched scoundrel Appa.’ He paused, and looked from face to face. ‘Can there be a more fair offer than that?’

  Richard was certainly tempted. He had never supposed that Appa could ever be more than a temporary stopgap; they would be lucky to escape from Khunde alive. And if he could persuade de Boigne to give him the necessary men to return to Sardhana…he looked at Thomas.

  ‘Sure, it’s a fair offer,’ the Irishman agreed. ‘I doubt we’ll do as well elsewhere. But the answer is no, General, at least for the time being.’

  Richard was astonished, but kept his council.

  ‘You are a mercenary, sir,’ Sutherland said. ‘Do you not offer your sword to the highest bidder?’

  ‘When I’m in the market place, General. But I’ve been bought. You’ll have to wait until I’m up for sale again.’

  ‘You’ll stay loyal to a cause you know cannot win, a man you cannot possibly hold in anything but contempt?’

  ‘I stay loyal to my word, General,’ Thomas said, gazing at Pedron.

  Pedron returned the look for several seconds, then he stood up. ‘In that case there is nothing more to be said.’ He looked up at the hills surrounding the valley. ‘Do you really dispose of several brigades up there, General?’