Sword of Fortune

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Tell me of them,’ Thomas suggested.

  ‘I am sure his lordship would prefer to have that pleasure himself, your excellency, when you arrive in Bombay.’

  ‘This lord wants me to go to Bombay?’ Thomas was incredulous.

  ‘With the fullest guarantees for your safety, sir.’ He glanced at Richard, ‘And the safety of anyone who might accompany you.’

  Richard’s heart was leaping about his chest.

  But Thomas merely looked at Wright. ‘Aye, well, we will consider the matter, Major. Ye may withdraw. My people will see to yer comfort.’

  Wright hesitated, then saluted, and left the audience chamber, accompanied by his aides.

  ‘Did ye ever hear such unmitigated gall in yer life,’ Thomas exploded when the doors had closed behind the envoy. ‘Me, a man forced to jump ship because of a captain’s inhumanity, and ye, condemned to a lifetime of gaol for defendin’ yer honour, and along comes this lord and supposes we’ll help him wi’ his problems. By God, the fellow must have a skull thicker than a ship’s sides.’

  ‘I don’t think we want to be hasty about refusing him,’ Richard said.

  ‘Oh, aye?’

  ‘George, you have to accept that we are not all that popular with our neighbours. They don’t like the success you have enjoyed here, and they don’t like the way so many of their people are fleeing to come and live under your rule. If no one has done anything about it, that’s because both the Scindhia and the Begum are all too aware of Tippoo and his brigands sitting like a storm cloud to their south. If Cornwallis does manage to settle him, we’d be mighty exposed. It’s no bad thing to have an ally. If that ally is the Company, then it’s worth having. And if, through that alliance, we can nip any projected alliance against us in the bud, then it’d be more worth having yet.’

  ‘There’s nobody in his right mind goin’ to attack Ship Sahib,’ Thomas declared. ‘I’d destroy him.’

  ‘Perhaps. But…’

  ‘And there’s no way I’ll serve any English lord. I’m done wit’ England, now and forever. Hariana’s me home, and I’m not for changin’ it.’

  ‘Very well,’ Richard said. ‘You are entitled to take such a view. Then let me go as ambassador, on your behalf.’

  Thomas gazed at him for several seconds, then snorted. ‘Sardhana, ye scoundrel! I saw yer ears prick up when that fellow mentioned the Begum.’

  ‘All right, I wish to return to Sardhana. But I can only go there as commander of an army or as an accredited ambassador. You will not give me an army, George.’

  ‘I’ll not throw one away, ye mean. Nor will I throw ye away. Ye think Peyraud will honour an ambassador, even from the Company, if he happens to be Richard Bryant?’

  ‘I think he will. He will have to, if I go to him from Scindhia, with an alliance with the Scindhia in my pocket.’

  ‘Ye’d be taking the divil of a risk.’

  ‘It would be worth it.’

  Thomas brooded into his glass of rum. ‘And ye’d go off fighting for John Company after.’

  ‘I’ll come back here, George. If you will let me.’

  ‘Ye’d swear to that?’

  ‘I’ll do more than that. I’ll leave Tanna and the girls here with you. And Hanif. Then you’ll know I’ll be coming back.’

  ‘If ye don’t get yer head chopped off,’ Thomas said. ‘All right, Dick me boy. I can see yer heart is set on it. Go. But…’ he pointed. ‘Be sure ye come back.’

  Richard wanted to shout with joy. Thomas had not sought to investigate any other reasons he might have for wanting to undertake the embassy…such as the sheer pleasure of returning to Bombay, under the aegis of the Governor-General.

  *

  ‘You’ll find the place has changed.’ Wright told him, as they walked their horses over the hills, staying well to the west, where they were less likely to meet large numbers of the Scindhia’s army. But Wright had a formidable escort, a regiment of cavalry two hundred strong, and was clearly no man to be lightly attacked.

  ‘I expect to,’ Richard agreed.

  He was wearing his full dress uniform. Although fitted with a high red collar, the coat was opened at the neck to expose his white cravat, and instead of a hat he wore a casque, or round steel helmet, decorated with a crimson feather, a throwback to the steel helmets worn by the Great Mughal’s guardsmen. He still wore a gold hilted dress sword. His claymore and pistols were carried by his servant Bootil; he did not anticipate having to use them on this expedition.

  He had no doubt he would cut a dash when he entered the city. There was so much he wanted to discover, but he would not reveal his anticipations by questioning Wright, who in any event wanted to learn what he could of him.

  ‘Let me see,’ the major said, ‘when were you last there?’

  ‘Spring of 1780.’

  ‘A long time ago. May I ask why you left, Mr Bryant?’

  ‘I thought it best, Mr Wright, as I had just escaped from gaol.’

  ‘From…My word! May I ask…?’

  ‘I had just killed a man in a duel.’

  ‘My word! I have heard something of that. I arrived in Bombay after the event. Richard Bryant. I had no idea you and he were the same. But…did you not command the army of the Begum Sombre?’

  ‘Yes,’ Richard said. ‘I was forced to leave Sardhana as well.’

  ‘Thus you serve the Ship Sahib. Well, well, what a stroke of fortune. I can tell you, sir, that Lord Cornwallis will be most pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘I trust that neither you nor he will forget that I travel under a safe conduct,’ Richard remarked.

  ‘Oh, no fear of that, sir; no fear of that. But your return will set a few tongues to wagging, to be sure.’

  Yes, Richard thought. I wonder whose?

  *

  They saw some Maratha horsemen south of the Nardana River, but although the fierce-visaged, dark-skinned marauders glowered at the Company standard, they could count, and they could see the muskets and swords and lances, and they kept their distance.

  Wright’s guide, unlike Hanif, avoided the jungle wherever possible, seeking the best routes, although the journey therefore took longer than it should. Richard was relieved about that. It might have been seven years since he had passed this way, and in that time he had changed from a boy into a man—his shoulders had broadened and his chest filled out—while there was little chance of anyone mistaking so resplendent a figure for the ragged, half-naked marauder who had once attacked their villages, he had no desire to encounter any of those people.

  And so they came to Bombay, and were ferried across the neck to the landing stage.

  Bombay had, if possible, grown. That is to say, it had multiplied, because there was no more room for real growth. If it had seemed crowded seven years before, it now resembled a disturbed anthill.

  People stopped to stare at the cavalcade clip-clopping up the street, but it was the stare of the average civilian for the splendour of the military, compounded by the unusual cut and colour of Richard’s uniform; certainly no one showed the slightest sign of recognising him.

  They marched straight through the city, while people and dogs and chickens scattered before them, and went to Government House, situated at the very end of Malabar Point. To get there they had to ride past the Smythes’ house, and Richard could not forbear turning his head to look up the drive.

  ‘Of course, Smythe would have been your employer when you were here,’ Wright observed.

  ‘Yes,’ Richard said. ‘Is he still here?’

  ‘Oh, indeed, although I believe there is talk of his retirement in a few years’ time.’

  ‘He had a daughter, or a niece,’ Richard remarked casually. ‘I forget which.’

  ‘Oh, you mean Mrs Lamont,’ Wright said. Did you know her? A striking woman.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Richard said. ‘She arrived just before I left. I would not say I knew her.’

  ‘Aye. Just as well.’

  Richard
opened his mouth to ask why, and then changed his mind. He would know of it eventually.

  *

  Charles Cornwallis proved to be a stocky, friendly-looking man with rounded features.

  ‘Richard Bryant,’ he said, shaking hands. ‘I have heard of you.’

  ‘And I of you, General,’ Richard replied, looking him in the eye.

  Cornwallis’s lips gave a little twist. ‘No doubt you have, young man. Were you truly gaoled for killing an officer in a duel?’

  ‘I was, sir.’

  ‘And did you really command the army of the Begum Sombre?’

  ‘I did, sir.’

  ‘And now you fight for an Irish rascal named Thomas. Is that not a fall in your fortunes?’

  ‘I fight for the most formidable man in all India, my lord, without exception. Where he leads, men follow. Because he is always victorious.’

  ‘I have heard that of him. Well, Mr Bryant, will he fight for the Company, and the Crown?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir.’

  ‘But you will?’

  ‘I will bear your messages to the Scindhia and the Begum, sir, as well as to the Nizam. This is what I have contracted to do. And I will make my best endeavour to have them agree to the alliances you seek. I will even endeavour to persuade Ship Sahib to do so, but as I have said, there I hold out little hope of success.’

  ‘You are at least an honest rogue,’ Cornwallis agreed. ‘And what of the Scindhia?’

  ‘There I would have high hopes, my lord. Perhaps you will explain to me exactly what you have in mind? As I believe you are aware, the Company is regarded with some suspicion by the Viceroys in the north.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cornwallis agreed. ‘Do you know the history of the Marathas?’

  ‘A little,’ Richard said cautiously.

  ‘Well, to be brief, the title of rajah was given by Aurangzeb to the Maratha leader Sivaji back in 1667, when Aurangzeb found that he could not catch up with the bandit long enough to beat him.

  ‘The Emperor still meant to deal with him, but Sivaji used the title to expand and settle the lands he had conquered, and although Aurangzeb did manage to lay hands on Sivaji’s successor, Sambhaji, it was too late to destroy the Maratha nation: they had grown too powerful. After Aurangzeb’s death, when the empire started to fall apart, the Maratha state became virtually independent. They taxed the whole of the Deccan. Only Hyderabad stood out against them and, I may say, the Company. At that time the Marathas found it useful to keep the Company in existence, for trade.

  ‘Equally, around this time, the family of Sivaji had declined so much in strength that the ruling of the Maratha state was taken over by their chief minister, the Peshwa. The Peshwas were inclined to flex their muscles. They even tried to overthrow the Great Mughal, but were defeated. That was in 1761, only twenty-six years ago.

  ‘By then the Marathas themselves were falling apart, as you will know. It was out of these internal revolutions that one of their chieftains, the Scindhia, declared independence and founded his own jaghir to the north of us, using French mercenaries.’

  ‘We are well acquainted with the Scindhia in Hariana,’ Richard observed.

  ‘I imagine you are. But Scindhia, or at least his general, de Boigne, has always been a sensible fellow. Haider Ali, who followed the Scindhia’s example when he seized the throne of Mysore and declared his independence, seemed determined to carry on the worst Maratha traditions of living by robbery and murder. The Peshwa, Baji Rao, could not overthrow him, and even appealed to us for help.’

  ‘Which Mr Hastings gave, about six years ago,’ Richard put in.

  ‘Quite. Well, we defeated Haider Ali in the field, but it was decided to accept a peace treaty rather than push matters to the extremity of assaulting Mysore itself. To be frank, Mr Hastings did not entirely trust Baji Rao, and with good reason. All the Marathas are by nature thieves and robbers, and for all the Peshwa’s professions of loyalty, there can be no doubt that had the Company forces suffered a defeat, or even a severe check, he would have fallen on them.

  ‘But peace was concluded, and we hoped the matter was ended, especially when Haider Ali died. But now we have this son of his, Tippoo Sahib, just as high-handed and violent as his father, making very warlike noises indeed, and doubling the size of his army. Nor is Baji Rao as friendly as before. The fact is, our directors in England do not truly understand the situation out here. They have vetoed any Company expansion, and this is no doubt a very sensible point of view, seen from a desk in Leadenhall Street. But to the Indians, the fact that there is no longer a Clive to lead our armies to conquests merely indicates that we have fallen on a period of weakness. It is my intention to prove to them that this is not so, or we may all find ourselves in the direst peril. But to deal effectively with Tippoo, bearing in mind that I may at any moment have to deal with Baji Rao as well, I need more men than I presently dispose. There you have my reasons for wishing an alliance with reliable native princes. I hope I have put the matter clearly.’

  ‘Admirably, sir.’

  ‘What concerns me is that it is known that Tippoo has French officers in his army. Now, is not Scindhia’s general, this de Boigne, also a Frenchman? Will he fight against his fellows?’

  ‘I believe he may, my lord, if it can be shown to be in Scindhia’s interests. Whatever his nationality, he is a man who has given his loyalty to Scindhia, and neither for France nor against England. Indeed, he employs English officers as well as French. If I can persuade him that the destruction of Mysore is to his advantage, he may well join you.’

  ‘English and French marching together,’ Cornwallis mused. ‘An interesting concept. What of the Begum? Will she forgive you for deserting her?’

  Richard gave a grim smile. ‘The Begum, also, considers her own advantage at all times, my lord.’

  ‘Well then, the situation is promising. I would have you understand, Mr Bryant, and equally have you convey to the Viceroys, that my aim is riot conquest for the Company. Indeed, I am expressly forbidden to expand Company territory in any way. My intention is solely to secure the safety of Bombay and Madras.’

  ‘I understand that, my lord,’ Richard said.

  ‘Good. Good. When will you set out upon your embassy?’

  ‘The moment you say, my lord.’

  ‘Good, good. I will have the necessary documents prepared. Meanwhile, you will be a guest in my house. I will have a reception for you, at the end of this week. It would be best to let everyone in Bombay know that the prodigal has, as it were, come home with my blessing, or some hothead might seek to challenge you. Is there anyone you would particularly like me to invite?’

  ‘Why, my lord, since you are so kind…my old friend, Albert Forsythe?’

  ‘Forsythe,’ Cornwallis mused. ‘Forsythe. Ah! What a shame. I’m sorry to tell you, General Bryant, that Albert Forsythe died, two months ago, of fever.’

  ‘I am very sorry to hear it,’ Richard said. Poor old Albert, he thought. Staying in Bombay, never getting into trouble, dreaming of the day when he might become senior factor…and dying. While I, who have broken every rule in the book, who have behaved like the veriest Maratha raider myself, live and even prosper.

  ‘Well, then, sir, my former employer, Mr Smythe and his wife?’

  ‘Very well thought of, Mr Bryant. Yes, indeed.’

  ‘And their niece and her husband, Colonel Lamont?’

  Richard suggested, wondering if the Governor-General could hear the pounding of his heart.

  *

  ‘Richard Bryant!’ Jonathan Smythe looked Richard up and down, taking in the resplendent uniform, the gold hilted sword, the look of confidence.

  ‘Mr Smythe.’ Richard shook his hand. ‘You are looking well.’ This was an obvious lie; Smythe had put on far too much weight, and his jowls jiggled as he spoke.

  ‘You have travelled a long and devious route, I understand, Mr Bryant,’ the factor said.

  ‘General Bryant,’ Lord Cornwallis interjected. ‘
Commander-in-Chief of the army of Hariana.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Smythe acknowledged. ‘Indeed. You remember Mrs Smythe, ah…General Bryant, my dear.’

  Richard smiled and bent over the lady’s hand.

  In contrast to her husband she remained as thin as a rake, her cheeks yellow with incipient malaria.

  ‘Why, Mr Bryant, the sight of you makes me all of aquiver,’ she gushed. ‘You are such a desperate fellow.’

  ‘Never in drawing-rooms, Mrs Smythe,’ Richard said, wondering if she was referring to his deeds in the jungle or his apparent betrayal of Amy Holder.

  There were several other guests, but Richard had eyes for only one.

  Barbara Lamont had abandoned her crinoline in favour of the clinging muslin worn by most white women in the tropics. This was in pale blue, and set off her rich colouring to perfection. Her hair was as carefully dressed as ever, and she wore a ruby pendant. Her figure had if anything matured, and was now very definitely voluptuous, but not by any means fat, or even plump: Richard reminded himself that she could only be twenty-six years old; he was himself only twenty-seven.

  He was amused, however, to discern that, despite the care she had taken of her complexion, there were freckles on her bare arms, and even a scattering on her face.

  Yet she remained, as she had always been, the most striking woman in the room.

  He found himself thinking of Aljai and Caty and Tanna. Aljai was a far more beautiful woman than Barbara. Caty he knew he still loved as he would love no one else in his life. And Tanna was the most faithful of companions.

  Yet this woman he still wanted, because she alone had never been attained. Instead she had turned her back on him when he had desperately needed at least her sympathy.

  Now he did not know whether he wanted to love her or beat her into subjection. He did know that she was the main reason he had accepted Cornwallis’s offer of employment.

  ‘Richard,’ she murmured, as she gave him her hand. ‘I had expected never to see you again.’

  ‘Ah, but I knew I would see you, Mrs Lamont,’ he replied. ‘I have got into the habit of making dreams come true.’