Raging Rajahs (Man of Conflict Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  Colonel Vaughan shook his head, but his own batman told him the tale that evening, in remarkable detail.

  “You knows them monkeys you keeps ‘earing, shouting and hollering at night, sir? Thems ain’t no bloody animals, sir – not bloody likely! Thems is those bloody Thugs what is shouting to each other and telling what’s goin’ on in camp!”

  “Bad men, I fear! Best not to be caught behind the column by them!”

  Molly Grant especially exercised his wit on the topic of the Thugs, making a great play of them and loudly worrying that the sentries must be at risk, standing on their own at night as they did.

  “Wouldn’t be my idea of how to go on; out there in the dark, listening to every rustle in the jungle and not knowing whether it’s a tiger or a snake or just a Thug, creeping up on you!”

  He took care to compliment himself on having the sense to become a batman and not have to stand these risky duties any more.

  He sat at his fire with Cooper of an evening, chuckling quietly.

  “Teach them buggers to have a go at me for being a Molly, Cooper! They’re all halfway to wetting ‘emselves whenever they stand sentry!”

  “Just watch your back, mate! There’s one or two might stick a knife in it to get back at you!”

  “No fear, mate. There’s a couple of the Indian lads who’ll watch out for me!”

  Cooper said nothing, being quite certain that Molly did not sleep alone in his bivouac; neither did he, of course, but he was more conventional in his activities with the girls.

  Septimus did without company for his nights – but he was very visible; if he strayed from the path of virtue the whole battalion would know within the hour, and the gossip would spread rapidly, to his detriment. An inevitably casual contact with an available girl on the march would give him the name of whoremonger; a discreet, semi-permanent arrangement would be a different matter.

  The town of Ahmednagar was walled but its main defence was a fortress located just outside the urban area. There was rumour of a huge army of horsemen hovering a few miles distant and Wellesley was quite sure that if he sat down to besiege the town he would have Maratha cavalry joining him in the trenches. The solution as he saw it was simple and he called his infantry colonels to him.

  “Escalade, gentlemen! We must be over those walls by nightfall! Break down the gates or climb the walls – they are none too high and in poor condition – they have allowed trees to grow close and climbing vines to trail. Get the men inside, and keep them in hand, for we must bombard the fort immediately after and the town must then be held, not burned down!”

  The Hampshires had their ladders already made and in their baggage train. Colonel Vaughan ordered them up and Septimus put himself at the head of the Grenadiers, A Company, made up of the tallest and bulkiest of the battalion. He set his other companies to the left and right, and gave the command to charge well before the other battalions were ready.

  Colonel Vaughan and Major Reynolds waited with the other five companies, to exploit any opening Septimus made with his men.

  The Grenadiers set their ladders and the other companies volley-fired along the wall above them to keep defenders’ heads down.

  Septimus raced up the twelve feet of the ladder, swearing to himself, certain he was stretching his luck too far. There was no other place to be – he had to lead, to be seen by his own people – but he did not have to like it. He swung up onto the walkway at the top of the wide brick wall, drew his sword and a pistol and shouted, a war cry he supposed it might be, though not of the conventional sort.

  “Come on, you bastards!”

  There was a group of the garrison, Maratha soldiers he supposed, standing a few yards away, doing very little but carrying long muskets. He fired the pistol and ran at them, waving his sword. They ran away, in the direction of the fort. He noticed they were wearing loose white cotton robes, which struck him as out of the ordinary. He shouted to his men and gave chase.

  They came to a stairway leading down to the gates and Septimus half ran, half jumped down, Cooper at his heels and a full platoon immediately behind him.

  “Get the gates open!”

  A few more of the men in white robes came in sight. Some stopped and fired at him, most sped directly towards the fort.

  The gates were held shut by heavy iron bars, each taking a minute or so to move. A group of more conventionally dressed Indian soldiers came out of the gatehouse, empty-handed, and joined the platoon in opening the gates, pushing them wide apart for Colonel Vaughan to enter.

  “A Company, hold the walls! The rest of you come with me!”

  They ran towards a large palace showing towards the centre of the town, forced their way in without resistance. They heard firing in the direction of the fort.

  “The Scots are over there, Major Pearce. None of ours.”

  They would need no help in whatever they were doing – there was never a Scots regiment that needed its hand held.

  They rounded up the inhabitants of the palace, virtually without casualties, the sole death being of a very large gentleman who they presumed to be a harem eunuch and who stood in front of a locked door and waved a heavy sword over his head and then collapsed in a boneless heap, the exertion too great for his poor overworked heart.

  They felt rather sorry for the honest and unfortunate chap, trying to do his duty to the last.

  The people they found were collected together in the largest room of the palace, presumably the audience chamber, and were questioned for their identity, interpreters having been brought in. They were almost all women and children and a mass of servants.

  An hour disclosed that the raja had taken the bulk of his forces, all of the horsemen, and had gone to join the Maratha army in the field. The fortress and the walls had been put into the charge of Arab mercenaries, some six hundred of them; they, it seemed, had chosen to make their stand in the fortress. The local soldiers were glad to see the back of them, having little love for Muslims.

  General Wellesley arrived and took direct charge, as seemed to be his habit; he left very little to his subordinates where he was actually present.

  “Well done, Colonel Vaughan! Was that your major I saw first up the ladders?”

  “Major Pearce, sir.”

  Septimus made his salute.

  “They told me you had a name for being first into a fight, Major Pearce. It would appear that they were right, sir!”

  Wellesley was never to be accused of over-generosity in his praise; he seemed to believe that ‘well done’ was quite sufficient.

  “Hampshires to keep order in the town, if you please, Colonel Vaughan. No sack; no looting; no rape. If needs be, then erect a gallows in the market square and let your men know that the provosts will fill it without second thought.”

  Colonel Vaughan saluted and left to give his orders.

  “Delay one moment, Major Pearce.”

  “Sir.”

  Wellesley gave orders for the fortress to be placed under siege, his few heavy cannon to be emplaced, then turned back to Septimus.

  “You had ladders very quickly to hand, sir.”

  “Brought them with our baggage, sir. Lots of walled towns in India, sir, never know when you might need a ladder.”

  “Well thought, sir. Thank you.”

  Septimus marched out, was joined by Cooper and Grant and went in search of the colonel.

  They hanged two of the gaol-delivery men next morning after drumhead court-martial for rape and murder; the men became conspicuously well-behaved after that.

  The fortress surrendered after four days of desultory siege and unenthusiastic defence, the garrison negotiating a return by ship to the Red Sea and the Hejaz, in exchange for their lives and the retention of the payments that had been made them in advance. The word would spread rapidly and the unknown number of other mercenaries in the Maratha forces could be expected to become thoughtful.

  The army marched, but the Hampshires stayed behind. There was a need for a ga
rrison and it seemed logical that it should be the battalion that had taken the town, rewarded for their efforts.

  “One half of the men in the fortress, Colonel Vaughan; the remainder to hold the town, sir.”

  Vaughan did not like splitting his battalion but accepted that the layout made it necessary in this instance. He decided to base himself in the fortress, placed Septimus in the palace, arranged that they should fire rockets if in need of help.

  “Provost patrols through the town, Major Pearce, keep the men busy if at all possible. I do not know how I can achieve the same in the fortress.”

  “Marches, sir – send them out a company at a time to keep the villages quiet and to put down any bandits and brigands who may arise in the absence of their lawful masters.”

  “Very good, sir. It should be done, of course – the peasants must plant their crops in peace and bring their harvests into the markets. Starvation would lead to unrest, so they must be kept fed in town.”

  Cooper appropriated a suite of rooms for Septimus and his retinue, and then assigned palace servants to them; he and Molly Grant set themselves up as feudal barons, second only to the lord himself and charging fees for access to him.

  Septimus found himself acting as town mayor rather than garrison commander; he enjoyed himself.

  The rajah had taken much in the way of his funds with him, needing to pay his men in the field, and had placed a substantial amount of cash in the hands of the Arab mercenaries. The Treasury was much depleted, but he had spent little on governing his city and its surrounding lands so the lack of cash mattered very little.

  Cooper reported rumours among the palace staff – a great mass of servants of various castes and functions – that the rajah had in fact hidden much of his wealth, that there was a secret storeroom, probably known to the senior lady of his harem. Septimus discounted the tale; it was typical of the fantasies of the great riches of the East, rarely borne out in reality. He carried on with the daily business of ensuring that a minimum of taxes were collected and that the local courts continued to function and, most importantly, that the peasants were protected as they brought food into the markets.

  Each of his companies acted as provosts in turn, four of their platoons patrolling for at least two hours of every day and sitting in guardhouses throughout the town for the rest of their twenty-four hours. Most of the inhabitants showed quite content, carrying on with their daily lives and making a profit in any way they could from the foreign soldiers. A few shouted insults or threw stones, but it was Septimus’ opinion that they had probably done the same to the rajah’s peacekeepers in previous weeks.

  “Criminals and low gutter louts are the same wherever you are, Mr Taft. If you can take any of them up, well and good, we shall find a gallows for them – but I suspect they are no more than the Street Arabs you will find in the rookeries of any English town.”

  “Better for a hanging or flogging, nonetheless, sir.”

  “Probably, but I want no casual musketry, Mr Taft! They are not to be shot down in the streets, sir. The town is by way of being peaceful just now, and that is how it is to remain. I do not know how many live here, but I do not want them out and rioting against us, sir!”

  Things proceeded very well, and improved noticeably when Cooper recruited a pair of ‘maidservants’ into their ménage; pretty girls and very clearly offering their personal services to the sahib. It was only natural, indeed courteous, to accept their generosity, and it relieved Septimus’ mind no end to be able to relax in their company after a tiring day.

  Cooper came to him one evening.

  “The rani, sir, the rajah’s number one missus, ‘as been talking to Molly. All of the women in the harem chats with him, sir. They seems to think it’s all right to talk with Molly, though they keeps hidden away from the rest of us men. Thing is, sir, she wants to get out of the palace and set up in a place of ‘er own. She reckons that if it comes to it then there’s going to be a bloody great battle between her lot and ours. There’s a good chance that her rajah will get dead, so she says. If they win, well he’s one of the blokes who could be made Peshwa, by right of birth, that is, but he’s not powerful enough and he’d get his throat cut to get him out of the way of the stronger couple of blokes. If they lose, he’s one of their leaders and he ain’t coming back here as rajah no more.”

  “Heads we win, tails she loses, you’re saying, Cooper.”

  “That’s about it, sir. If she waits, then she ends up as a poor widow, so she reckons. If she gets out now to the land that her family owns, well she can be rich and independent and she reckons the Company will leave her alone as long as she pays her taxes to them.”

  Septimus listened sympathetically and waited, saying nothing.

  “So Molly asked ‘er, the rani, that is, how she could be rich – was it that big a place she was going to?”

  “And?”

  “She says that she can lay her hands on a good few lakhs of rupees, and a fair bit of other stuff.”

  “It sounds very well, Cooper, but I can hardly permit her to remove such riches from the Company’s hands. The city has been captured and all of its wealth must be the property of the Governor-General for the government, or of John Company itself.”

  “That’s what she said, sir. She sort of wondered whether we could work anything out, you might say.”

  “It might well be possible, Cooper. I cannot be seen to carry bullock carts full of gold coins out of the city when the time comes that we must march out, as goes without saying.”

  “Just you leave it to us, sir!”

  Nothing was said between them for several weeks and Septimus settled into his quiet existence. Two more months and he decided that he was growing fat and idle and he walked across to the fort for his regular conference with Colonel Vaughan, determined to shake himself back into condition.

  “Route marches, sir. Four days out in a circle through the countryside around the town, showing the flag to the locals and sweating the arrack out of our people. We cannot afford such sloth, sir. A Company garrison may arrive any week now and we might be ordered out into the field, which might be a difficulty in the state of readiness of my companies. Yours have been patrolling, of course, but mine have spent no more than two hours of every second day on their feet.”

  “Quite right, Major Pearce. You can go out yourself, I believe. I have done so with my patrols – I cannot be immured in this gloomy place for months at a time!”

  “The rani has requested permission to leave the town, sir. She wishes to settle in a small manor of her own somewhere in the hills towards the coast. She is certain that the rajah will not survive the campaign, having political enemies among the Marathas who will see him dead if we do not.”

  “Wiser that she should not be left here with her children in that case. If she takes her sons away then she takes them out of any immediate chance of succession, and gives them a chance of living to adulthood!”

  Septimus had not considered that point, regarded the very concept of killing children as a vicious, barbarian sort of idea.

  “The Princes in the Tower, Major Pearce? It is not so many centuries since our kings did the same.”

  Cooper was much in favour of marching the men out, suggested that a company might be sent two days down the road to Bombay, out of the Maratha lands and into safer country, escorting a couple of carts for that distance.

  “Mr Fletcher can take C Company first, Cooper. Tell me when they should start out!”

  The rani made her unofficial departure a few days later, her train of bullock carts inspected and openly carrying only her household effects. Her two elephants were loaded only with her family and their immediate servants. It was very obvious that she was carrying no huge sums of money with her. Her little procession was followed at a distance by a pair of bullock carts which happened to take the same road.

  Captain Fletcher took his company out early next morning, overtaking the pair of bullock carts ten miles down the roa
d, still in safe territory, and slowing to provide them escort. They rested through the heat of the day on the banks of a small river, the bullocks chewing contentedly at their feed, the men bathing their unaccustomed feet in the water and smoking their pipes quietly. They marched another two hours through the early evening then set out again before dawn, reaching a track that led off into the hills after another three slow hours. A squadron of cavalry from the Rani's lands was waiting for them at the track accompanied by eight light horse-drawn carts.

  They watched as the drivers laboriously heaved small boxes off of the bullock carts and placed them very carefully above the axles of the smaller horse carts, taking great pains to balance the load. Fletcher shook his head, suspicious yet forced to offer no protest.

  “What will those little carts carry, Mr Melksham?”

  “Five or six men, sir, not a lot more than a quarter of a ton.”

  “Two tons of whatever it might be in those boxes.”

  “I do not imagine that it is lead ingots, sir. I can think of only one other thing that will weigh so much yet take up so little space.”

  “So can I, Mr Melksham. To an extent, you know, it does prove that we are not thieves, whatever others say of us. We are allowing the rani to take her own riches with her.”

  “Very good of us, sir!”

  The company marched back slowly, choosing to sleep the days and travel mostly at night, as an experiment. They had worried that marching rough tracks in the dark hours would lead to broken legs and sprained ankles, even to the possibility that men might straggle and be lost, but they held together well with almost no casualties.

  Fletcher reported to Septimus that night marches were very practical with a veteran company.

  “With green recruits it might be a different matter, sir, but the draft has been with us for six months now and they are almost indistinguishable from the longer serving men.”

  Septimus decided to see for himself, went out the following evening with the Grenadier Company, assuming that the bigger, strong men might also be somewhat clumsier, more likely to stumble. If A Company could march the night hours successfully, then so could all of the others.