Sword of Fortune

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘What interest have I in Bombay?’

  ‘Sure, and hasn’t it always been yer dream to return there in style? To be one of the nobs? To wear a red jacket, and have a regiment of Company sepoys at yer back?’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Richard sighed. ‘But it’s all done with now.’

  ‘I reckon it is, since you’ve absconded with someone’s wife. But why didn’t Cornwallis offer ye a command right away.’

  Richard told him what had happened in Agra.

  ‘Bejasus, boy, but you surely allow yerself to be messed about by the pretty things. And why did ye not just cut Peyraud down and make off with the lass? Ye did that with this one.’

  ‘The difference is, she wanted to come.’

  ‘So would the other, when she got used to the idea. Ye’ll never understand women, Dick, and that’s a fact. ’Tis all the fault of aspirin’ to be a gentleman. And ye’d have had the Begum eatin’ out of yer hand.’

  ‘Only as long as she chose to do so.’

  ‘Well, ye could be right there. But she’s not a woman, now is she, that one? She’s one of those witches as used to come and lie on a fellow’s chest and suck him dry. What are they called now?’

  ‘You’re thinking of a succubus.’

  ‘Aye, that’s the one. Well, ye may have had a rough time of it, but I’ll tell ye this: I’m damned glad to have ye back. We’ve a country to rule, boy. We’ll let the Company and Scindhia and the Nizam and the Peshwa fight their own little war.’

  *

  The war against Mysore did not actually break out for another year, as Tippoo in turn sought desperately for allies to counter the federation Cornwallis had brought against him.

  When it did commence, the southern Marathas stood no chance. They fought with all their legendary courage and fury, and resisted for three years, but against the disciplined volleys of the French and British soldiery, they crumpled time and again. Defeated repeatedly, Tippoo sought refuge in his fortified capital of Seringapatam, and was induced to make peace. Neither the Peshwa nor the Scindhia wished to see him utterly crushed out of existence, and Cornwallis was well aware that the Company directors in London were as usual champing at the bit as they learned of their Governor-General waging war when he should have been concentrating on trade.

  Tippoo agreed to pay a vast indemnity as the price of peace. To make sure that he did pay, two of his sons were taken by the British as hostages, which failed to please the Company or Cornwallis’s allies.

  But there was another reason why the French officers of the Free Companies wished to be done with the alliance. In 1789, the year of the opening of the campaign against Mysore, France erupted into revolution. For a time everyone waited to see what would happen next, but at the beginning of 1793, shortly after Tippoo had made peace, Louis XVI was executed, and France declared war on nearly all Europe, including Great Britain.

  France and England had fought before since the dissolution of the French East India Company—during the War of the Revolution—without coming to blows in India. This had been the determination of de Boigne who, as he had explained to Richard, was in the mercenary business for money. The sort of money de Boigne demanded and obtained for his services depended upon his record of unbroken success as a general. He had no fear of this reputation being damaged by rebel chieftains like Appa Khunde Rao, but he had no wish to cross swords with such men as George Thomas or Richard Bryant.

  Even less did he wish to cross swords with the Company who, he knew, could dispose of far greater resources than any he might call upon. Thus he had decreed peace with the British, and the other Free Companies had followed his lead.

  But while the war with Mysore was still being fought, de Boigne had gone home to France.

  It had always been his dream to return as a nabob, and now he had accumulated sufficient money to do so. He left India while the revolution was still in its early stages, and the bloodbaths of 1793 an unsuspected eventuality. What had happened to him, no one knew, although rumour had it that he had ‘bought’ himself a beautiful French wife and an estate, and set himself up as a country gentleman.

  The French declaration of war greatly alarmed Bombay and Calcutta. If there was one future event that the Company held as certain, it was that one day the French would seek to regain their Indian possessions, and oust the British from theirs. The idea that de Boigne, with his military reputation, his vast knowledge of India and his friendship with the Scindhia, was now living in France and available to be called upon by his war-mongering, new republican government, sent shivers up and down Leadenhall Street, and these very rapidly reached Bombay.

  There was another aspect to the situation which was no less disturbing. De Boigne had naturally handed over command of his troops to Perron. In the best of circumstances, this would have been alarming; Richard and Thomas certainly found it so. Perron had none of de Boigne’s caution, none of the older man’s understanding that nobody’s luck lasts forever. Perron still had a reputation to make.

  Worse, he now revealed himself to be as rabid a Jacobin as Danton or Robespierre. Strange tales spread across the border into Hariana of veteran officers being dismissed from the Scindhia army because they were of noble ancestry, and of cooks and saddlers being promoted in their place, while the army was also being expanded.

  Most alarming of all was the intelligence that Perron had visited Delhi, and had been received by the Emperor. He had been awarded a lakh of rupees and called Defender of the Mughals. On the strength of this, Mahadoji began to call himself Protector of the Imperial Throne.

  ‘Mark my words, they mean trouble,’ Thomas said. ‘It behoves us to look to ourselves, Dick lad.’

  ‘By doing what? You rejected the idea of an alliance with the Company.’

  ‘Cornwallis’d be no help to us.’ He pointed north. ‘What lies beyond the Sutlej?’

  ‘The Punjab. The land of the Sikhs, the most warlike people in the world. You’re not seriously considering…’

  Thomas grinned. ‘The British are the most warlike people in the world, Dick me boy. The Sikhs just think they are. Now if we was to carve ourselves another jaghir up there, and recruit those Sikhs into your army, we’d be invincible.’

  ‘We’d need a lot more men than we now command.’

  ‘So let’s to it,’ Thomas said.

  *

  Expanding their own army was a business Richard thoroughly enjoyed, no matter how doubtful he might be about undertaking a campaign in the Punjab until their relations with Scindhia were settled once and for all. He sent his recruiting sergeants far and wide, looking for men of spirit and ambition. They flocked to his standard, for Hariana remained the most desirable of places to live, under the rule of Ship Sahib.

  By the summer of 1794, they had ten battalions and four batteries of artillery, not to mention cavalry.

  Equally important, they had managed to recruit officers of talent. Colonel Hopkins, an Englishman, was another artilleryman, and was given command of the guns. Colonels Birch and Hearsey were Eurasians, but good soldiers, who each took a brigade of foot. Hanif, now very much one of the triumvirate who ruled Hariana, commanded the cavalry.

  ‘Now we have an army,’ Thomas said proudly.

  *

  It was difficult to believe that seven years had passed since he had brought Barbara back from Bombay, seven years since he had last beheld Caty and learned of her betrayal.

  It was far longer than that since he had laid eyes on his son.

  Michael would now be thirteen. His mother would be twenty-eight. Richard himself was now thirty-four, and Barbara a year younger.

  It was amazing to watch her, squatting beside Tanna as they washed their clothes on the banks of the stream, in the midst of another fifty Indian women, and overlooked, from time to time, by many times that number of men. Could she ever have imagined such a life in her wildest daydreams?

  Yet she was happy. Richard believed that she had been happy almost since her first day
in Hansi, for all her determination not to show it. The way of life appealed to her. Her ability to walk about virtually naked appealed to her even more; she had always had the soul of a gypsy. That she was universally admired for her tall, strong body with its powerful thighs and heavy breasts was something she revelled in. Also people stared at her hair, which she wore tied simply with a ribbon to free her neck from the heat.

  He watched her wave a greeting to Sayene, Hanif’s new wife, and then rise to bow to Hanif himself, as befitted a woman in the company of a general of cavalry. Richard did not suppose Barbara remembered Hanif from Bombay, but Hanif certainly remembered her.

  ‘Now you have attained your every ambition, Richard Sahib,’ he said slyly, the day Barbara arrived.

  However much Richard promoted him, Hanif could never prevent himself greeting Richard as his master. Barbara regarded the little Muslim as a friend.

  She had learned to speak Hindustani, and when she wore a silk sari, as Tanna had carefully taught her, and had adorned herself with the accumulated jewellery Richard had bestowed on her, she looked handsomer than she ever had in the stuffy crinolines of her earlier life.

  She had even become a close friend of Tanna’s. Tanna was the most companionable of women, her nature so sweet it was impossible ever to find fault with her. If she was aware of her own seniority in the household, she had been careful never to show it. Indeed, in many ways she pretended inferiority to the tall white woman.

  She now had four children. To Margaret and Lucy had been added George and Henrietta.

  Barbara had never been able to conceive. She had had two further miscarriages, and had wept over them. And Tanna had wept with her.

  ‘You are still my wife,’ Richard assured her.

  Over the years he had grown to love her. Attainable whenever he wished her, her early appeal had been replaced with a feeling of belonging together, and a respect and affection similar to that which he felt for Tanna. Thank God, he frequently thought, that the two women displayed a similar respect and affection for each other.

  Yet for neither of them did he feel the all-encompassing love he had known almost instantly with Caty. He did not suppose he would ever enjoy it again.

  Then one day their domestic bliss was suddenly disrupted. A very ragged Indian made his appearance in Hansi, seeking General Bryant. He was brought before Richard, and there fell to his knees before reaching into his turban and producing a folded piece of paper.

  ‘For you, sahib,’ he said. ‘Most urgent.’

  Richard recognised the handwriting instantly. He did not suppose he would ever forget it.

  ‘My Richard,’ Aljai had written.

  ‘I need you, my Richard. Come to me with all haste. I am in the direst peril. Believe me.

  ‘Come to me with an army and save me, I beg of you.

  ‘Remember that I saved your life, not once, but twice. If you have but one ounce of gratitude in your heart, one atom of love left for me, do not abandon me.

  ‘Come to me, with an army, dearest Richard, for the love of Allah.’

  Diary of the Mistress of General Richard Bryant, September 1794

  Today I am thirty-three years of age! Is that not an unimaginable age for a woman?

  And tomorrow Richard will march away, to the rescue of that Begum Sombre he once served, and loved. And yet who, by his own account, is one of the most treacherous and wicked women who ever walked this earth.

  She must be very beautiful!

  He also speaks of his son, who is apparently held captive by this Begum. What a life this man of mine has led!

  I hope he returns with his son, because then he will be my son, and I will care for him and raise him to be the pride of his father.

  How I wish I had sons of my own, even one. How I envy Tanna.

  But that is senseless. I chose this life, and these past six years I have been happier than ever before.

  To look back beyond the night we stole out of Bombay in the rain is to look back at a puppet show, seen as a child, and only half-remembered.

  How terrified I was. And how determined not to show it. And how wet!! That I did not catch pneumonia is surely a miracle.

  How the jungle seemed to threaten my every movement. How it tore my flesh. And yet, how happy I was, to be riding beside Richard, even if he would not look at me.

  How angry that made me!

  Poor Bootil! I grieved for him more than I dared reveal to Richard. I weep every time I think of him, so gallantly trying to save me. I fear it was my own stupidity which killed him. Richard certainly saw it that way.

  And yet, only two days later I was in his arms, and my happiness was complete!!

  Those Indians, who attacked us; what would it have been like to be captured by them, and raped? My skin crawls at the thought. It could never have happened, so long as Richard lived.

  If he were to die on this absurd knight errantry he proposes, I know I should never survive it.

  Those Frenchmen we encountered, with their English officer: are they to be trusted? And what of George!

  Richard has a quite unnatural respect for George. Well, no doubt he is a fine figure of a man, and he has achieved a great deal. But he still has not learned to write his name or read a single psalm from the Bible.

  Oh foolish Barbara!

  What has a profligate renegade, such as I have become, to do with the Bible?

  George has never learned the use of the fork. He eats everything with the point of his knife! It is quite shattering to watch.

  Once I supposed Uncle Jonathan to be a heavy drinker. George is a stupendous drinker.

  I wonder if Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Lucy are still alive?

  Or Andrew Lawrence, or Alistair Lamont!!!!

  I miss none of them. My friends are all here, in Hansi. Tanna is my friend, her children are as my children.

  I envy her them, and wish I had children of my own, but beggars cannot be choosers.

  How I resented and indeed feared her when first I came here.

  Yet now we love each other, because we both love the same man.

  Were I living in Bombay, Tanna would be my maid, my servant, my inferior in every way. I would not even think of her, save in respect of her duties. I would beat her, if I chose.

  Here in Hansi she is my superior. And I am content that it should be so.

  Who cares that Tanna has also never learned to use a fork, or that she cannot read nor write? She is a woman of character and determination.

  And she is my friend.

  Will this Begum, supposing Richard brings her back, also be my friend?

  It matters naught. Tanna and I will stand shoulder to shoulder against her.

  12: The Rescue

  Richard took the letter to Thomas and read it to him.

  The big Irishman listened, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

  ‘So the lassie’s got what’s been comin’ to her for years.’ he remarked. ‘Someone’s got her by the tail. Sure, and I’d give a lot to see that.’

  ‘Well, you will,’ Richard said. ‘When we get her out of whatever mess she’s in.’

  ‘Ye’ve got to be foolin’, Dick lad. Ride to the rescue of that harlot?’

  ‘No matter what she’s done, George, we owe it to her.’

  ‘Oh, sure she was yer lover. And maybe she did save yer life. But when ye think that she also condemned ye to death…’

  ‘She didn’t, George, Peyraud did. It was Aljai who saved our lives. Who do you suppose instructed Hanif to get us out of that cell? When she claims to have saved my life twice she is telling the absolute truth.’

  Thomas frowned at him. ‘Ye mean I owe me life to that…that…?’

  ‘Nobody else, George.’

  Thomas drank some rum. ‘I was goin’ to invade the Punjab.’

  ‘The army isn’t ready for such a venture yet, and you know it. But, do you not suppose it’d be a good idea to test these new men of ours?’

  ‘Against Peyraud?’
/>
  ‘I have fought with Peyraud. He’ll be no problem.’

  Thomas gave a booming laugh, and clapped Richard on the shoulder. ‘Now that’s me old Dick. That’s how I like to hear ye talk. Ye’ve been too subdued these past few years. Give the orders, lad. We’ll march against Agra, and have the Begum to warm yer bed again.’

  And Caty? What would he do with her, or she with him, if he destroyed the man she loved?

  But, he vowed, he would regain Michael, no matter what.

  *

  The orders were given, and the army marched forth, Hanif commanding the cavalry, Birch and Hearsey the infantry, and Richard in overall command under Thomas. Thomas intended personally to direct the artillery, thus Hopkins was left in command in Hansi, with two battalions. Obviously the venture exposed Hariana to action by Perron, but Thomas hoped to have completed the campaign before news of his departure even reached Gwalior. For this purpose all communication with Scindhia was blocked for the next two months.

  Barbara and Tanna, Multi and Seyene, gathered to wave goodbye. The decision to undertake a campaign had been made suddenly; but their menfolk’s enthusiastic confidence was contagious.

  Hanif was the most eager of all, because he also had something to avenge.

  *

  It was difficult to form any accurate estimate of what had happened in Agra; for the past few years almost no news had come out of Sardhana. Both Thomas and Richard had been more concerned with what was happening in Scindhia, or down in Mysore, where it was reported that Tippoo Sahib was reforming his army and was offering employment to French officers. Sardhana had lain in obscurity and peace, and it had been presumed that the Begum was pursuing her usual aim in life, of sleeping with every available man and accumulating every available lakh of rupees.

  Certainly the border with Hariana was thinly guarded; Hanif’s cavalry dealt easily with the few small forts and their meagre garrisons. Prisoners were taken and dragged before Thomas and Richard.

  ‘Our general is Rambeau,’ they said.

  ‘Rambeau?’ Thomas looked at Richard in bewilderment.