‘Colonel Arthur Wellesley, at your service,’ he said, when he had dismounted and saluted Thomas. ‘Have I the honour of addressing Ship Sahib?’
‘That ye do, lad,’ Thomas boomed. ‘And ye’re Irish yerself,’ he cried in delight.
‘To be born in a stable, sir, does not make one a horse,’ Wellesley muttered, almost under his breath.
‘Man, it makes ye the salt of the earth,’ Thomas insisted, his good humour quite unaffected.
Richard was summoned and introduced, and the youthful colonel, who turned out to be the Governor-General’s younger brother, inspected the troops.
‘A fine-looking body of men,’ he commented. ‘Do they fight as well as they look?’
‘Well now, Colonel, would ye be wantin’ to find that out?’ Thomas inquired with a grin.
Not a trace of humour revealed itself on Wellesley’s face. ‘That’s what I’m here to do, sir.’
*
The envoy was entertained to a feast complete with dancing girls, at which Barbara, in her most splendid sari, and wearing almost all of her gold jewellery joined them.
‘Mrs Lamont!’ Wellesley bowed courteously. ‘I have heard about you. But I never expected to have the privilege of meeting you.’
He was at least not unsusceptible to beauty, Richard thought.
‘Can it really be a privilege, Mr Wellesley?’ Barbara asked, smiling, almost flirtatiously as in the old days. ‘I shudder to think what they must say of me in Bombay.’
‘Why, ma’am, they envy you. Or rather, they envy your…ah…’ he glanced at Richard.
‘Mr Bryant is my husband, Colonel,’ Barbara said, quietly but firmly.
‘Oh, quite, ma’am, quite. But I can assure you that your welcome when you return to Bombay will be a warm one.’
*
‘Now, what did he mean by that?’ Barbara asked Richard when they retired.
‘We shall no doubt be told, in due course,’ Richard promised her.
Next day he and Thomas sat down with Colonel Wellesley to discuss the reason for the visit.
‘You’ll understand, gentlemen, that the situation in Europe is very grave,’ the colonel told them. ‘Every coalition we muster against the Jacobins crumbles at the sight of a tricolour. Thus, whether Bonaparte succeeds in his venture or not, it is absolutely essential that India be made secure. This is my brother’s purpose.’
‘Which he seems to be carryin’ out,’ Thomas remarked.
‘We have had some little success with the Peshwa, that is correct, sir. However, south of the Peshwa’s dominions lies a very formidable military power indeed. You have heard of Tippoo Sahib?’
‘Indeed we have,’ Richard muttered, his heart beginning to pound.
‘This gentleman has not only refused Lord Mornington’s demands that he dismiss his French mercenaries, but he had the temerity to execute one of the envoys. You, gentlemen, will be aware that we have a long history of trouble with Mysore, dating back to the rule of Tippoo’s father, Haider Ali. The time has come, my brother is determined, to settle with these robber chieftains once and for all.’
He looked from face to face.
‘It’ll not be easy,’ Thomas remarked.
‘We never supposed it would, sir. We are aware that Tippoo Sahib has a large and powerful army, and that it is officered by French captains of repute. That is why I am here. We need all the support we can obtain. Now, we are informed that several years ago, your good offices raised an alliance against Tippoo, which effectively ended his depredations for some time.’
‘General Bryant did that,’ Thomas said.
‘Indeed, sir,’ Wellesley agreed. ‘Unfortunately, such an alliance is no longer possible, owing to the presence of French officers in the army of almost every Viceroy, saving only yourself, sir; they are hardly likely to wish to go to war on their own people, and besides, we are reasonably sure that the Directory in Paris is in communication with most of the prominent French officers in India, no doubt promising them vast rewards for bringing the Company down. In these circumstances, the support of that fine-looking army you paraded for me yesterday would be invaluable.’
‘No doubt,’ Thomas said. ‘May I ask what Lord Mornington’s plans are regardin’ Scindhia?’
‘Well, sir, he is principally concerned at this moment with the Deccan, of course; that is where our trading posts are mainly concentrated. I am sure you would agree that it would be the height of folly for the Company forces to wage war on both Scindhia and Mysore at the same time.’
‘Ye’d have a problem,’ Thomas agreed.
‘In any event, we are informed that the famous General Benoit de Boigne has returned to France. Scindhia can hardly prove as immediate a threat as Tippoo.’
‘Don’t ye believe it Colonel,’ Thomas said. ‘De Boigne was a sensible man, content with what he had. His successor now, who calls himself Perron, has ambitions. Right now he’s coping with some local difficulties. But ye want to watch him. I want to watch him, certainly. And I’m sure ye’d agree in turn, Colonel Wellesley, that it would be the height of folly for me to despatch my brigades into the Deccan and leave me country defenceless, with Perron sitting on me doorstep just waitin’ for the moment to strike.’
‘Ah,’ Wellesley said. ‘Hm. I do take your point. Well, sir, I am bound to say that is damned disappointing news.’
Thomas appeared to ruminate for a minute. Richard was keeping quiet with difficulty.
‘There are occasions, however, when perhaps one man is worth more than a brigade,’ Thomas said at last.
‘Sir?’
‘I could spare you me commandin’ general.’
Wellesley’s head turned sharply.
‘Yell not find a more able soldier in all India,’ Thomas told him. ‘What is more, he knows the people, their ways, their customs. He speaks Hindustani like a native. And he hates Tippoo Sahib. If anyone can show ye how to beat the bugger, Richard’s yer man.’
‘By God, sir,’ Wellesley commented. ‘You’d be welcome on my staff.’
Richard’s brain was dancing. ‘Just confirm one thing to me, sir. You mean to march on Seringapatam, and utterly break Tippoo’s power?’
‘That I do, sir.’
Richard held out his hand. ‘Then I’m your man.’
*
‘I am forever grateful,’ he told Thomas. ‘I had never expected such an opportunity.’
‘Well, I don’t know that I’m doin’ ye a favour,’ Thomas said. ‘But I reckon ye’ll never be happy until ye’ve been and got the girl, if she’s still about.’
‘If Peyraud is there, she’ll be there. George…I don’t know what to say.’
‘Just come back,’ Thomas told him. ‘Don’t forget we still have things to do. If this Wellesley feller can put a stop to Perron, what’s to stop us expanding?’
‘Expanding? Not the Punjab again?’
‘Sure, and why not? Them Sikhs is no tougher than some of the people we’ve dealt with down here. Seems to me we’ll never have a better opportunity than right now to teach ’em a thing or two.’
Richard was suddenly suspicious. George was his best friend, but George had never given him permission to go looking for Caty before. And George knew how opposed he was to any adventures in the north.
‘George,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t be thinking of invading the Punjab while I’m down in Mysore, would you?’
Thomas grinned. ‘Now would I go to war without me general? You come back as soon as Tippoo’s been done for, and as soon as ye’ve persuaded Wellesley that Scindhia needs doin’ next.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Richard promised.
He remained suspicious. But nothing could deflect his mind from the chance of at last catching up with Peyraud, and reclaiming Caty and Michael.
*
‘Bombay,’ Barbara breathed. ‘Oh, Mr Wellesley did speak of it.
Richard frowned at her. ‘You mean you want to return there, now?’
‘Well…if it
were possible. We did speak of it. You said you’d never be invited back. And you have been. Oh, please Richard.’
‘But I’m going on campaign, my dear.’
‘I would wait for you. I could pick up my diaries,’ she said lamely.
‘You haven’t lied to me for years, Barbara.’
She licked her lips. ‘I’m not lying now, Richard. I would like to go back, just for a visit. I don’t want to leave Hansi forever; I’d just like to visit Bombay.’
‘You mean you want to return to cock a snook at all the old biddies who regard you as a whore.’
‘That’s absolutely right,’ she admitted, grinning. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
He grinned back. ‘No reason at all. You’ll drive them wild.’
She was suddenly serious. ‘There’ll be no challenges?’
‘None I need accept, if Lamont is gone.’
‘Oh, Richard! I’m so excited.’
Tanna watched them with anxious eyes, as she always did when they spoke English to each other.
It was a language of which she had picked up a few words.
‘You are going to Bombay?’ she asked in Hindustani.
‘Yes. As before. I will return.’
‘But this time you are going to war.’
‘Only to advise,’ he assured her.
‘You are taking Barbara.’
‘Yes, well, Bombay is her home. She would like to see it again. Have you no desire ever to revisit Khunde?’
‘No,’ Tanna said shortly.
‘Well, you must remain here with the children until we return,’ he told her.
She bowed her head in acquiescence, knowing that her position as the mother of his children was inviolate. But what of Barbara? He was taking her with him to Bombay, and then he was riding off to find Caty. And what if he found her?
Could two women, two British women, really accept each other as joint wives of the same man? Would he want them to? Was he not already forming the idea that if he regained Caty, with Barbara in any event in Bombay, the best thing would be to place Barbara on a ship for England? But how could he do that, after having wrenched her away from everything society held important? No matter that she had done most of the wrenching herself. It would be a poor reward for her years of love and loyalty. He could not send her back.
Had he ever really loved her? He simply did not know whom he loved best, Barbara or Caty, nor would he, until Caty was once more in his arms.
But he did know that to ride in search of Caty and Michael was the only dream he had ever had since fleeing the Begum, and here at last, after nearly twenty years, he was being given the opportunity.
He never doubted that this time he would succeed.
*
The journey back to Bombay took a month; it was getting shorter all the time as forest trails became well-worn roads.
They naturally had to travel through Scindhia territory, but the various post commanders they encountered were courteous enough; everyone knew General Bryant, and Scindhia was in the same position as Thomas: neither could afford to war with the other until the British attitude was established, and neither could afford to war with anyone else while the other was armed and observant.
It was a very sound political standoff, in Richard’s opinion, especially if it restrained Thomas from his mad dreams of carving another jaghir in the Punjab.
But it was pleasant to observe Wellesley’s opinion of him improving as he observed the respect in which the now somewhat grizzled thirty-nine-year-old veteran was held.
The colonel indeed proved a witty and entertaining companion, for all the severity of his looks and expression. He amused them with descriptions of the campaigns against the Jacobins in Holland in which he had taken part and which, as related by him, suggested that the British army was commanded by total incompetents.
‘A soldier should know what he is about,’ he declared. ‘Honour and glory are all very well, but one does not fight for these things, not nowadays. One fights to gain the end for which one’s country is employing one. Where that end cannot be gained, then to accept battle is worse than a waste of time. It is a waste of men, sir. Do you not agree?’
‘Entirely,’ Richard told him.
‘Unfortunately, too many of my superiors are concerned with the business of “face”, especially here in the East. Of course, they are bedevilled by the armchair politicians at home, who remember Clive and cannot appreciate that it is impossible to fight a war looking back forty years. You’re fortunate in that you do not serve the Company’s army, Mr Bryant.’
‘It was once my dearest wish,’ Richard confessed.
Wellesley glanced at him. ‘And one you have still a hankering for, I’ll be bound. Or you would not be here now.’
Richard grinned. ‘Let’s say I’m being patriotic, Colonel,’ he agreed, with his tongue in his cheek.
*
For Barbara, the immediate euphoria of being able to return to Bombay was wearing off, and she was concerned about the future.
‘Do you really still seek to serve the Company, Richard?’ she asked, as they lay together in their tent, listening to the cicadas and the rustle of the wind in the trees.
‘Would it upset you if I did?’
‘Only in that I fear I would be a millstone around your neck. You would have to marry me in a church.’
She waited, but he made no response.
‘And where would that leave Tanna and the children?’ she asked the darkness.
‘Where indeed,’ he agreed. ‘It is better not to look too deeply into the future, my dear…at least until we catch up with it.’
*
Viscount Mornington’s bald head was surrounded by a thick fringe of fair hair which merged into his sidewhiskers to frame his face. He was a more handsome man than his brother, his features being less aquiline, while his flashing eye and the set of his chin proclaimed him a man of both temper and determination.
Like his brother, he was susceptible to Barbara’s beauty, and retained her hand for several seconds.
‘The famous Mrs Lamont,’ he remarked.
‘She is now Mrs Bryant,’ Colonel Wellesley put in.
‘Of course, of course. My apologies, and to you, sir.’
‘Am I famous, or infamous, sir?’ Barbara asked, exerting all the old charm.
‘Ha ha. Depends on the point of view, eh? I trust no one offered you insult during your ride through the city? By God, I’d have the scoundrel on the gallows.’
‘I doubt anyone knew who I was, my lord. I wore a veil.’
‘Good for the complexion,’ Mornington remarked. ‘You’ll be my guest, ma’am. My people will show you to your quarters. I have business to discuss with your husband.’
‘Of course,’ Barbara said, and gave a slight bow.
‘I shall look forward to your company at dinner,’ Mornington told her.
‘It will be my pleasure, sir,’ Barbara agreed, and glanced at an amused Richard before leaving the room.
‘A fine woman, sir. A fine woman,’ Mornington commented. ‘You are to be envied.’
‘I agree with you,’ Richard said.
Mornington seated himself behind his desk and waved the other two men to chairs.
‘I had hoped for the aid of some of Ship Sahib’s famous brigades.’
‘None is available while Perron controls Scindhia.’
‘Perron. I have never heard of the scoundrel. Is he as formidable as de Boigne?’
‘I would say so. He has learned much of the old marshal’s skill. However, he entirely lacks his common sense.’
‘Ha! Well, he can be no concern of ours at the moment. Tippoo is my business. You know the scoundrel is communicating with France?’
‘I did not know that.’
‘One of our frigates captured a merchantman bearing his letters. And they were replies, so the correspondence has been going on for some time. The Consulate offers him all help, all fortune as well, in toppling British power here
in India.’
‘The Consulate, my lord?’
‘Oh, indeed. That rascal Bonaparte has abandoned his attempt to ape Alexander and has returned to France. Now he has overturned the Directory, and had himself made First Consul. Shades of Caesar! Oh, he has two colleagues, but I doubt they’ll amount to much. How did he get back across the Mediterranean, is what I’d like to know. By God, that scoundrel Nelson was caught napping. Not for the first time, damme. A pompous, overgrown midshipman, I’ll be bound.’
‘But surely, if Bonaparte has returned to France, my lord, the threat to Britain in India is thereby averted?’
‘Don’t you believe it, sir. Bonaparte in Paris is a far greater threat than Bonaparte sweltering in the Syrian desert. He would have got here with less than half his men, and he would have been controlled, as I am, damme, by a weak and vacillating government. Now he controls all, and our position is weaker than ever. On the one hand they tell me to crush Tippoo, on the other they can send me no additional troops for fear of what Bonaparte may do next. On the one hand they say Tippoo must be destroyed, on the other they say the expense must not be too great and our success, supposing we enjoy any, is not to be attended by any annexations. By God, sir, I wonder at my own patience in remaining here.’
He fell silent, and brooded for a few moments, while Bryant and Wellesley waited.
The Governor-General raised his head. ‘Well, sir? You have come here, in place of ten battalions. What have you to offer me?’
‘You must first of all give me some information, my lord.’
‘Well?’
‘Your relations with the Peshwa?’
‘He has promised neutrality. I believe he will honour that promise.’
‘At least until we are defeated,’ Wellesley commented drily.
Mornington glared at his brother. ‘That will surely not happen.’
Richard gathered that there was not much love lost between the brothers.
‘And your own strength, sir?’
‘We dispose of fourteen battalions of native foot, and six of British; nine squadrons of native horse, and five of British; and one hundred and four pieces of artillery, of which fifty-seven are field guns, forty siege guns, and seven howitzers.’
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