There is no retreat from here, and no hope of relief.
Jack looked around. Mary stood at the entrance to the carved chamber. He wanted her with him.
'Mary!' he roared. 'Come into the square!'
Mary shook her head. She replied, but Jack couldn't hear her words above the clamour of the battle.
'Damn you, woman, come here, it's safer inside the square!'
Mary shook her head slowly and lifted a hand in farewell before she returned to her patients. Jack swore. Damn the woman and her sense of duty. Does she not know that the pandies will rape and kill her? Yes, he told himself, yes, she knows that only too well, just as she knows the wounded will feel better with her there.
At that instant, Jack admitted what he had long known. Damn you, Mary Lambert, I love you.
Then there was no time to think of Mary. There was only the enemy, the crash of rifles and slash and thrust of bayonets and swords. The pressure of numbers forced back the right of the square until the 113th stood in a clump, fighting with all their strength.
'Well, Jack, it looks like this is it.' Elliot had a cheroot in his mouth. He dropped his revolver and drew his sword. 'It's been a pleasure to serve with you.'
'And with you, Arthur.' Jack spared him a smile. 'Your father will be proud of you.'
'Fucking kill the pandy bastards!' Logan interrupted their brief conversation.
'Logan has the rights of it,' Jack said. 'Come on, Elliot! Come on, 113th! One last effort!'
Perhaps the enemy heard Jack's words for they seemed to hesitate. The mob at the right flank pulled back, some dropped their weapons, and they began to drift away. The mutineers stepped back to straighten their ranks, with havildars and naiks shouting hoarse orders.
'What are they doing now?' Jack began. 'Never mind. Reform the square lads! Load and cap. Take any ammunition you can from the casualties. The rebels have given us a breathing space.' We have a few more moments to live. Run, Mary, run and live your life.
The ground was damp and slippery with blood, littered with dead and dying men and women. Jack crouched beside a young wounded private. 'Hold on, Preston. This battle will all be over soon, and we'll get you all sorted out.'
'Did we win, sir? Did we lick them?'
Jack looked at the odds against them. There were nineteen of his men still on their feet, and around fifty sepoys, plus forty or so of Jayanti's women warriors. Even without the armed rabble, the enemy still vastly outnumbered them. 'Not yet Preston, but we will.'
'That's good sir. We fought well, didn't we? The 113th fought well.'
'We fought like heroes, Preston. Now you lie quiet and let us finish this off. Close your eyes and think of home.'
'Sir! Look!' Bleeding from a gash across his face,' O'Neill pointed to the maidan.
'Oh, dear Lord!' Jack said.
A fresh army was marching toward the temple. Hundreds strong, there were scarlet-coated soldiers with Brown Bess muskets over their shoulders, led by men on horseback with yellow uniforms and ornate turbans. Their column stretched as far into the jungle as Jack could see, with a band carrying Indian musical instruments.
'That's the Rajah of Gondabad's army.' Jack recognised Baird at their head. 'The Rajah must have made his decision to join the rebels.' He balanced his sabre across his right shoulder. I've failed. I failed to capture or kill Jayanti. I failed to save Snodgrass and his men, and I failed to turn the Rajah to support the British. Here I stand, Jack Baird Windrush, grandson of a traitor, bastard half-breed, rejected by my family and an officer who has led his men to defeat and massacre. It ends here at the ruined Hindu temple where my parents created me. I've travelled full circle.
'We could surrender,' thin-faced Private Smith said.
'Bugger that.' Logan spat on the ground. 'We're the 113th, not some bloody Hyde Park Strollers.' He raised his voice. 'We're the 113th! Come and get us, you bastards!'
'Cry Havelock!' Coleman shouted.
'Let loose the dogs of war!' the 113th chorused.
Jack straightened his back. He may be a failure, but he led men. These were his men, and he would be proud to die alongside them. How about Mary?
'Sir!' O'Neill spoke softly. 'Look.'
The Rajah of Gondabad's army had formed into three long columns and was advancing toward the temple with slow, measured steps.
'Here they come, boys,' Jack said softly. 'Everybody take their position. How much ammunition do we have left?'
'Seven rounds a man, sir,' O'Neill said, 'and then it's bayonets and belt-buckles.'
'Don't waste ammunition.' Jack looked for Jayanti and the warrior with the ruby ring. He hoped he could kill them before he died himself. That was his final ambition. Look after yourself Mary; please look after yourself.
'Come on, you bastards!' Logan yelled. '113th!'
The Rajah's band began to play, with the music strange to Jack's ears. He frowned as the tune altered. 'What's that they're playing?'
'It's Rule Britannia,' Elliot said. 'Or it's meant to be.'
'The cheeky bastards!' O'Neill sounded more surprised than angry. 'Play your own tunes!'
'They are, sergeant,' MacKinnon said. 'They're not joining the pandies.'
'Sweet Lord,' Elliot pointed. 'Would you look at that?' The Rajah's army unfurled two flags. One was the Rajah's standard, and the other was the Union Flag.
'They've joined us,' Jack said. 'The Rajah of Gondabad has joined the British side.'
On sight of the British flag, the mutineers had begun an orderly, if rapid withdrawal. Jayanti's warriors lingered longer before they trotted away toward the jungle.
'After them!' Jack made rapid decisions. 'I want Jayanti dead! Elliot, try and find the prisoners, find our men!' In that few moments, the entire situation had altered. Jack led his 113th out of their positions to chase after the retreating enemy. Diplomacy dictated that he should wait to greet the Commander-sahib of the Rajah's army, but Jack had never considered himself a diplomat. Keeping his eye on Jayanti, he chased after her, leaping over dead bodies and ignoring everybody else in his pursuit.
'Jayanti!' he yelled. 'Stand and fight me, you murdering witch!'
When the warrior women reached the edge of the jungle, Jayanti paused, turned and raised her sword in salute.
'This battle is over, Captain Windrush. The war will continue.' Turning, she ran light-footed into the trees.
'Stand and fight!' Jack roared, knowing he wouldn't catch her in the jungle. I've still failed. Jayanti will escape and return to cause more trouble and murder more British soldiers. He saw the bullet catch Jayanti high in the thigh. She spun around, grabbing at her leg, and the second bullet smacked into her chest. Jayanti lifted her tulwar, glared at Jack and jerked backwards as a third bullet took off the top of her head.
Ensign Peake held his revolver in slack fingers and stared at the body. 'I killed her,' he said. 'I killed that woman.'
'You did,' Jack said. 'And you were right to kill her.'
'I killed a woman.' Peake dropped his revolver. 'Oh, what will happen to me?'
Jack stopped for a moment as the battle continued around them. 'It's all right, ensign. The first is always the worst.' He patted the boy's shoulder. 'You'll never forget it, but the memory will fade.'
As Peake began to cry, another voice sounded, educated, calm and feminine.
'I will fight you.'
'What?' Jack looked up. The woman stared at him with her black turban low over her forehead, and the veil pulled up until it touched her nose. Jack saw the gleam of the ruby ring.
'You!'
'Me.' The woman drew her tulwar. Sunlight glittered on the emerald in the pommel. No ordinary warrior could afford a weapon of that quality. Who are you? I saw you give orders to Jayanti. Who are you?
'If you surrender,' Jack said. 'I will guarantee you a fair trial.' I hope you fight. I haven't forgotten Ensign Green.
In response, the woman ran at him, swinging her tulwar like an amateur. Jack easily fended off the blow
and cut backhanded, until the blade of his sabre tangled in the woman's loose clothing.
Unspeaking, the woman attacked again, her tulwar a blur of steel as she pressed Jack back.
'We may have lost this battle,' the woman said, 'but I will kill you, Captain Windrush.' She clashed her tulwar against Jack's sabre, scraped down the blade and twisted. Jack gasped as his blade snapped. Throwing the handle at her, he dodged backwards, reaching for his revolver. As he dragged it free, the woman thrust at him, with the point of her sword nicking the top of his thigh.
Jack swore at the pain and fired without aiming. He missed, and the woman advanced again.
'You will die slowly, captain, a screaming eunuch, like your ensign friend.'
Jack fired a second time, missed again and threw the revolver. The woman advanced, circling her blade, taunting as Jack backed away.
'Let me fight her, Captain Windrush.' Batoor stepped from between the trees. He was smiling as he drew his Khyber knife.
For a moment, the woman and Batoor spoke in Pushtu. Their voices rose and then they fought. Jack had never seen such fury or such skill. He knew that he wasn't a swordsman and watched as two experts traded blows, parrying, thrusting and swinging with a force that had both reeling.
Batoor parried one of the woman's swings and kicked her full in the stomach. She fell, shouted something and threw her sword. It missed Batoor by a yard and clattered uselessly on the ground. Jack lifted it and stepped forward.
'I promised this woman a fair trial,' he said.
'I made no such promise,' Batoor said, and thrust his Khyber knife into the woman's belly, slowly twisting as she writhed in pain.
'Batoor!' Jack tried to push the Pathan away.
'Leave us, Captain Windrush. This woman sent Jayanti to murder my wife and child.' Batoor twisted his blade, easing it slowly down her belly.
The woman died in front of Jack's eyes.
'That was murder,' Jack said.
'That was Pashtunwali.' Batoor flicked off the woman's veil. The Rani of Gondabad stared sightlessly upward. 'This is the Rani.'
Jack took a deep breath. 'I thought I saw her giving orders to Jayanti.' He looked up. 'Now tell me why you two hated each other?'
'We were lovers once,' Batoor said, 'when I was the captain of her bodyguard. Then she found out I was married and sent Jayanti and her warriors to kill my wife and my family.' He faced Jack. 'Did you think that the British are the only power in India? Many things happen without your knowledge, Captain Windrush.'
Jack looked at the twisted body of the Rani. 'The Rajah won't like you killing his wife.'
'The Rani has controlled the Rajah for years,' Batoor said. 'She supported the mutineers while the Rajah thought the British would win. Now she is dead; he is free to make up his own mind, so he will do the opposite of what she wanted.'
'I see,' Jack said. 'What a tangled country this is.'
Batoor smiled and wiped his blade on the Rani's clothes. 'Good-bye, Captain Windrush,' he said. 'We have completed our agreement.'
'We have not,' Jack said. 'I owe you a horse.'
'You can pay me if we meet again,' Batoor said, 'either as friends or enemies.'
'Hopefully in friendship,' Jack said. 'I would not like you as an enemy.' He picked up the Rani's tulwar and thrust it through his belt. When he looked up, Batoor was already walking into the jungle. Now I'd better find the Commander-sahib.
Baird was sitting on a gleaming brown horse, calmly directing his men to scour the jungle for Jayanti's black-turbans and the remnants of the mutineers. 'Ah, Jack, my boy.' Baird looked down at him. 'I believe we have something to pick up for the Rajah.'
'It's good to see you, commander,' Jack said, 'and I believe you are correct, in exchange for a couple of hostages.'
'Your Lieutenant Elliot rescued the British prisoners,' Baird spoke casually. 'And now that we're on the same side, you may wish to know that I know of another military position opening soon.'
'Is that right, sir?' Jack was still trying to recover from the strain of the battle.
'I'll come and talk to you when the dust settles,' Baird said. 'Now, where is the tribute for my Rajah?'
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gondabad, January 1859
The notes of the bugle faded as the 113th settled down for the night in their cantonments at Gondabad. Jack sat in a corner of the Officers' Mess, enjoying the noise and bustle of peace. Glancing out the window, Jack saw the tall bamboos casting shade over a patch of grass while half a dozen ayas looked after the regiment's children. Charlotte Riley was in the midst of the ayas, laughing as she lifted a small boy in a sailor suit.
God is in his Heaven; Queen Victoria is on her throne and peace, thank the Lord, has returned to India. Jack looked up when the door opened, and Elliot limped in, favouring his recently-healed leg and with a romantic scar on his left temple.
'Congratulations, Captain Elliot.' Jack held out his hand. 'Not that you deserve promotion, of course. Imagine you, gazetted captain for your services throughout the campaign! Well done.'
'There's more.' Elliot looked embarrassed. 'They're talking of giving me the Victoria Cross as well.'
Jack shook his head. 'They hand those out to anybody, nowadays.' He smiled. 'Nobody deserves it more, Arthur.'
'It's not right, Jack. You led us, you found Jayanti, and you convinced the Rajah to support the British.'
Jack asked a servant for a whisky and sank into one of the cane chairs. 'You held the temple, Arthur, and you rescued the prisoners.'
Elliot shook his head. 'I didn't have to rescue them; they were running loose. It's not right.'
Jack grinned. 'It is right. Besides, our new colonel doesn't like me much.'
'Our new colonel doesn't like you at all,' Elliot said. 'Here he is now. Mind your manners, Jack.'
Colonel Snodgrass stepped through the doorway and surveyed his kingdom. Still gaunt from his long captivity, he was greyer of hair and whiskers than he had been, and even shorter of temper. He snapped his fingers for brandy and stalked to his favourite seat, with the servants scurrying to avoid him and the officers stepping out of his way.
'I have to ask him,' Jack said. 'He won't like it.'
'Don't do it, Jack,' Elliot said quietly. 'You'll ruin your career. You'll never get your step, and you'll remain a captain forever.'
Jack sipped at his whisky. 'This Ferintosh is better than the kill-me-deadly you forced me to drink.'
'Don't do it, Jack,' Elliot repeated. 'You'll alienate yourself and lose all your friends in the regiment.'
'Did your Highland colleagues distil that stuff from dead elephants?' Jack took a final drink before rising. Do I need Scotch courage? Or am I only putting off the evil moment? Jack shrugged. He and Snodgrass had never been the best of friends.
'May I have a word please, colonel?'
'If you must.' Colonel Snodgrass gave a curt nod.
'I have a request to make.'
'What is it, Windrush?'
'I wish to get married.'
'Who is the woman?' Snodgrass didn't smile. 'Is she suitable?'
'Mary Lambert,' Jack said. 'Her father was an officer in the Company's service.'
'And her mother?'
'A native of India.'
'You may marry her if you wish,' Snodgrass said. 'And then you may leave my regiment. There is no place for half-castes in the 113th.'
Jack imagined his fist landing on Snodgrass's jaw. He could see the colonel rising from the chair and landing on the floor. He could also envisage the resulting court martial that would cashier him and leave him penniless and unemployed. He would be unable to provide for himself, let alone anybody else. Punching the colonel would grant instant satisfaction and long-term misery. It wouldn't help Mary in the slightest.
'No, sir. We only have a place for officers who surrender themselves and all their men.' Jack gave a little bow as a sudden hush descended on the mess. 'You will have my resignation in writing within the hour.' He co
uld feel the tension and hear the shuffle as nearly every officer present moved further away from him. He'd expected such a reaction from men who were desperate to enhance the reputation of the regiment and advance up the career ladder.
'Captain Windrush,' Elliot's voice was loud in the subdued Mess. 'I hope I may have the honour of acting as your best man.'
Although Elliot had been at his side through a score of battles and skirmishes, Jack had never appreciated his friendship more than at that moment. 'The honour would be mine, Captain Elliot.'
Thank you, Arthur. I hope your loyalty has not damaged your career.
Jack paced to his bungalow and nodded to the bored watchman at the door. 'Do I have a visitor?'
'Yes, sahib.'
Pushing open the outer door, Jack walked into his front room. 'Good evening, Grandfather.' He poured them both a drink.
'How did the good colonel react?' Baird was lounging on Jack's chair.
'Predictably.' Jack balanced on the table. 'I hope I'm doing the right thing here.'
'You had a choice,' Baird said. 'You can remain in the 113th under Colonel Snodgrass and try and keep friendly with Mary Lambert as long as you are in India, or you can marry the blasted woman and leave the regiment.'
'I have chosen the latter course.'
'Women can do that to you.' Baird was smiling. 'That's how your mother came about.' His chuckle could have come from a man forty years younger. He held out his glass for a refill and smiled when Jack obliged. 'And I don't regret it in the slightest.'
'I'll miss the 113th,' Jack admitted. He liked his grandfather, although he recognised that he was a rogue. 'I'll miss the men.' He thought of Riley and Coleman, Thorpe and O'Neill, even the murderous Logan. Most of all he thought of Arthur Elliot.
'You could be too busy to even think of them,' Baird said. 'Our mutual friend can be very demanding.'
'How do you know him?'
'He contacted me,' Baird admitted. 'We discussed you.'
'Did you indeed?'
'We did,' the voice came from the outer door as Colonel Hook walked in. 'I am glad you chose to join me, Windrush. We have much work to do.'
Windrush- Jayanti's Pawns Page 29
