The Rape Of Venice rb-6
Page 27
'Thanks, Will, for your offer,' Roger smiled bleakly. 'Of course, I mean to hunt them down. But it is now Tuesday morning, and they left on Friday night. From their having a palanquin apiece and relief teams of bearers, it's clear that they mean to travel fast; it is as good as certain they will be back in Bahna before I can catch up with them. Nothing would have pleased me better than the chance to attack them on the road; but it would be suicide for me to attempt to pluck Clarissa from Gunston with only a dozen or so men against his regiment. I must rely on calling him personally to account; and at least he is no coward. Besides, did he refuse my challenge, he would be shamed before Clarissa. He must fight or lose her. So all I'll need is a guide and a couple of good men with led horses.'
As soon as they had finished breakfast, Hickey went off to make the arrangements, and knowing Roger's impatience to set out he made certain that his orders should be executed without the lethargic delays so usual in the East. By ten o'clock a reliable guide named Tej Mewar was at the door with two well-armed companions, and led horses on which were packed a tent, stores, and other equipment which might be needed on the journey. Roger, meanwhile, had ridden out to his house to change into travelling clothes and collect a small portmanteau with his belongings. At a quarter past, Hickey wished him good luck, and he rode away wretchedly miserable but fully confident in his ability to bring Gunston to book before the week was out.
The little cavalcade first crossed the river to Howrah, then took the road south-west to Ulubaria, as that was the direct route to Bahna; but Roger did not halt to make enquiries there, as the party he was pursuing had passed through Andul, so would not have struck the main road to Bahna until considerably further west.
Ten miles farther on, at the town of Bagnan, he did get Tej Mewar to enquire, while his party rested their horses for an hour and had a meal, but none of the inn people had seen the palanquins. As they would have passed through after dark, that was not surprising, and the same applied at Panskura which they reached late in the evening. By then they had covered forty miles; so although he would have liked to push on, he knew that he would regret it later if he did not give the horses a good night's rest. The town caravanserai would, he felt sure, be riddled by bugs; so he put up his men and stabled the horses there, but had the tent erected for himself in the garden, and spent another miserable night,
Next morning they were off soon after dawn and reached Debra by eight o'clock. There again, no one could be found who had seen the palanquins, and Roger began to fear that he was on the wrong track; for it was quite possible that, as Gunston's regiment was not on active service, he had not returned to Bahna, but had taken Clarissa to some other place up country in a totally different direction. But by half-past ten they reached the considerable town of Midnapore and, to his great relief, learned at the principal inn that Gunston's party had had a meal there on Sunday evening.
Knowing the pace at which a double team of bearers, each eight strong, could travel with a palanquin, and the staying powers of such specially-trained natives, Roger was not surprised that they had got so far in some forty-eight hours; and it confirmed his belief that Gunston would reach Bahna at least a day ahead of him, as both parties would have to stop now and then for a few hours' sleep. Nevertheless, to reduce the time of agonised waiting until he could confront Gunston, he pressed on hard all day, halting only at Jhargram and Chakulia to rest the horses and snatch meals.
At both places they picked up news of Gunston, and again at Raghunathpur, where his party had arrived late on Monday night. Roger reached the latter township on Wednesday evening, but after their arduous day both his men and horses were done up; so, as he had to halt there for the night, when he set off again at dawn on Thursday Gunston was still two days ahead of him.
From Raghunathpur they took a road that led south and in a few miles came to the village of Kokpada, which lay on the east bank of the broad Subarnarekha. Its waters were not yet in flood, so there was no difficulty about their being ferried across it; but on the far side of the river they entered very different country.
Ever since leaving Calcutta they had been riding across the western part of the great plain of Bengal, with its fertile soil and teeming population. The roads had been dusty but only slightly undulating and, for the most part, straight. As long as daylight lasted, they had never been out of sight of a hamlet or group of rickety farm buildings; while the ryots working in the fields, naked but for a loin-cloth and turban, women with water-jars or bundles on their heads, shouting children and strangely humped oxen, which they had passed, could be numbered by the thousands. But at the river, the plain ended.
Beyond it there were low foothills, then more rugged country with stony crags and precipitous gorges. Only patches here and there on the less steep hill-sides were cultivated, few bullock-wagons were to be met with on the sharply curving roads, and a solitary goatherd was usually the only figure to be seen in this much harsher landscape.
By midday they reached Paruli and by evening Bahalda, having covered little more than half the distance that they had on the previous day. At neither place could they find anyone who had seen Gunston's party go through, which disquieted Roger somewhat; but Tej Mewar assured him that they were taking the quickest road to Banna and should reach the city by the following night.
On the Friday they came down through the mountains to Boalda, and Roger's fears that Gunston might have taken some other direction were stilled by learning that his party had breakfasted there the day before; so they had doubtless arrived in the city of Bahna the previous evening. Soon after leaving Boalda, Roger and his three companions crossed another river, the Kharkai. By mid-morning they were on its far side up in another range of mountains and making their way through a pass that led into the little state of Bahna. Late in the afternoon they came to a forked gorge with a small stream running through it, and dismounted to water their horses. It was there that swift and unexpected disaster fell upon them.
From somewhere up in the crags a single long-drawn note sounded on a horn. Instantly it was followed by the thunder of horses' hooves, wild shouting, and confused echoes from the surrounding rocky defiles. Down both forks of the gorge ahead, and from behind as well, groups of white-clad, turbaned horsemen converged upon Roger's little party.
They had no time to mount; hardly time to draw their weapons. Before they could even get back to back, the three troops of native warriors had met and formed a swirling cloud about them so dense that it shut out the sight of the hills and gorges. Close beside Roger one of his men went down with a shriek, pierced through the chest with a lance that, from the force of the thrust, protruded nearly a foot behind his back. Of the others Roger temporarily lost sight while striving to defend himself. He shot at one warrior with a pistol he had snatched from his holster, and had the brief satisfaction of seeing him roll from his saddle. Throwing the empty pistol in the face of another he whipped out his sword. As he lunged upward with it. the weapon was nearly struck from his hand by the fierce sweep of a weighty scimitar. At the same instant, a hand from behind seized him by the hair. With a violent jerk of his head, he freed himself, ducked under his horse's belly and came up the other side. As he did so he nearly tripped over Tej Mewar's body. He caught a glimpse of the guide's head; it was almost unrecognisable, having been cloven in two halves from crown to chin. Again Roger lunged with his sword at the nearest of the yelling mob of dark faced horsemen, but again his slender blade was beaten down. Next moment he received a blow on the back of his head that sent him reeling. He fell to his knees. Before he could get back on his feet, two natives had flung themselves off their horses and seized him from behind. His wrist was twisted until he was forced to let go his sword and his arms were swiftly bound behind his back.
In another few minutes the din, and the cloud of dust kicked up by the melee, had subsided. Still dazed by the blow on the back of the head, Roger looked about him. His other escort had survived the fray, but
was held between two of the attackers. A tall man mounted on a fine black charger, and wearing a bright red sash, who seemed to be their leader grunted an order. To Roger's horror one of the men who was holding the prisoner promptly drew a curved dagger and slit the poor fellow's throat from ear to ear.
For an awful moment Roger's anger and disgust were mingled with fear that a similar fate was about to overtake himself. But swiftly his reason told him that he was the prize that the ambush had been set to catch. That explained why care had been taken during the scrimmage not to do him serious injury; these fierce-looking hill men were a band of robbers and meant to hold him to ransom.
Within the next five minutes he had abandoned that idea and come to quite a different conclusion. During that time, with his arms still bound behind him, he had been lifted into his saddle and one of his captors had taken the bridle of his horse; the led horses and the mounts of his dead escort had been rounded up, and the man wearing the red sash had shouted a number of staccato orders. As a result, the thirty-odd horsemen had formed up with military precision, two abreast in a long column, having Roger about halfway down it. The butts of their lances were now stalled so that they stood upright, their bright pennants fluttering in the gentle breeze above the men's heads as they moved off after their leader up the wider of the two gorges. Roger saw now, too, that the flowing white habits of the men, their turbans and accoutrements had a definite similarity, which was as near to uniform as native cavalry ever came. Suddenly it flashed upon him that he had been captured not by brigands but by troops.
For that there could be only one explanation. Gunston must have realised that the golden-haired Clarissa would be easy to trace, and that on Tuesday Roger might set out in pursuit of them. He had known that by driving his bearers hard he could easily get back to Bahna before Roger could catch him; but on arrival he had taken precautions against Roger's coming upon him unexpectedly there, perhaps by night. To make certain of not being surprised at a disadvantage, he had sent out a troop of cavalry to lay an ambush and, if his old enemy did appear, capture him before he reached the city.
At these thoughts Roger positively seethed with rage; not so much on account of the humiliation that had now been put upon himself, although that was infuriating enough, but at the utter unscrupulousness of Gunston's latest move. He had not the faintest justification for using the Company's troops for his private ends, and as a result of his orders three innocent men had been brutally slaughtered. In the circumstances, Roger felt his own situation to be distinctly precarious; but, even so, he could not believe that Gunston would go to the length of having him killed too. He thought it more likely that Gunston meant to hold him prisoner for a time, while pursuing his amour with Clarissa and unknown to her. Grimly Roger decided that somehow he would manage to escape, and that when he did it should no longer be a matter of a duel. He would see to it that Gunston was court-martialled, cashiered and hanged for the murder of his escort.
Meanwhile the cavalcade wended its way, mostly at a trot, along the winding road through the mountains. As dusk fell, the way began to lead downwards and, after a sharp turn round a great head of rock, Roger saw in the evening light a valley below from which, a few miles distant, there arose the turrets and domes of a walled city. Another hour and they were riding along the flat with farm buildings at intervals at the sides of the road, and the dark silhouette of the city, not far ahead, standing out starkly against the pinkish-gold of a sunset sky.
At length they entered a belt of shadow thrown by a lofty wall, and pulled up before a great arched gateway in it. A horn was blown, a pair of huge wooden double gates were dragged open and the cavalcade rode into the city. The horses' hooves ringing on the cobbles, it clattered through several dimly-seen streets, then through another archway into a courtyard. Roger was lifted down from his horse and led by the arms by two of his captors through a low doorway. It gave onto a corridor; some way along it another door was opened and he was thrust through it, the door was slammed and bolted behind him.
Left in the dark, and with his arms still bound, he went forward cautiously, feeling his way a footstep at a time. After he had taken a few steps, his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, as enough light was percolating in from the cracks round the door for him to see that he was in a small, unfurnished room. But along one wall there was a stone bench, so he sat down upon it.
He had only a vague idea how long he sat there, but it was in fact just on an hour. Then two armed men in costumes made rich with much gold braid came in for him. They pushed him along through several passages and courts then finally through an ornate doorway into a lofty pillared hall hung with many lamps.
At the far end of it a young native was seated on a throne made from a score of elephant tusks that had been carved, gilded and inlaid with semi-precious stones. At his right on a low stool sat an older military-looking man with a grey upturned moustache. Behind them, rigid but watchful, stood a score or more richly dressed courtiers, guards, and servants bearing peacock-feather fans on long handles.
Roger's escort hurried him forward across the highly polished floor; then, when he had come to within two yards of the throne, they suddenly jerked him back, thrust a foot apiece in front of his and flung him forward. He fell flat on his face, his forehead landing with a bump on the lowest step up to the throne.
Slowly he struggled to his knees, then to his feet. Meanwhile the young Rajah smiled with amusement. Roger put him down as about nineteen. His eyes were black, narrow and cruel; he had a big hooked nose, and a fleshy sensual mouth. Suddenly he spoke, in excellent Persian, but with a slight lisp.
"I take it there has been no mistake. You are Mr. Brook, are you not?'
I am,' replied Roger tersely. 'And I take it that you are the Rajah of Bahna. May I ask if it was by your Highness's orders that my escort has been killed and myself brought here as a prisoner?'
"You are quite right,' smiled the young man. 'We thought it best to arrange matters in that way.'
'Arrange matters!' Roger burst out. 'You have been guilty of murder and the illegal arrest of a British subject. I'll have you know that no man within the Company's sphere of influence can commit such crimes with impunity. Unless you intend to murder me, too, the Governor shall hear of this and…'
'Oh, but we do.' The Rajah cut him short. 'Even if Sir John Shore should learn that your death was no accident, he is far too cowardly a man to attempt to call me to account. But there is little likelihood of his ever hearing anything except that you and your men were set upon by robbers up in the mountains and slain there.'
Faced with this callous sentence of death, Roger felt the sweat break out on his forehead. He had never imagined for a moment that Gunston would go to such lengths as to have him murdered. In desperation, he cried out:
'Your Highness cannot mean this! Why should you desire my death? You have no quarrel with me.'
'No, none,' the young man replied still smiling. 'But you must die all the same. I have done what I have done, and shall do that which there is to do, to pleasure one whom I honour and admire. He is, I know, waiting impatiently to see you.'
As he finished speaking, he made a sign to one of the men behind him, who struck three times on a small gong.
For two long minutes nothing happened. While the Rajah and his court remained regarding Roger in calm silence he breathed again. The gong could have been rung only to summon Gunston. Blackguard as he might be, he was a British officer. It was impossible that he really intended to go through with this ghastly business. Roger felt certain now that the whole affair had been staged to scare him and, perhaps because Gunston expected to enjoy the spectacle of seeing him plead for his life.
The thought filled him with new resolution. He would not plead. Instead he would make Gunston look a fool in front of his friend the Rajah by refusing to do so; Gunston might threaten and bluster, but he would never dare to order the cold blooded murder of a fellow countryman.
A
door at the side of the hall swung open. Roger turned towards it with a smile of contempt. The smile froze on his lips. It was not Gunston who was advancing towards him but Signor Rinaldo Malderini.
Chapter 17
In Desperate Straits
At the sight of the Venetian Roger's heart missed a beat. For a second the blood hammered in his ears and he thought he was about to choke. All his new found resolution and optimism ebbed from him. Since this was the friend that the Rajah had 'pleasured' by having his men murdered and himself captured, his hope of life was now even less than it had been when he was dragged down by the whirlpool of the sinking Minerva. As he looked again at the pasty pudding-like face with the abnormally compelling eyes, he read his death sentence in it.
Like a large grey cat, Malderini padded up to within a few feet of him, smiled and said in French, 'Welcome to Bahna, Mr. Brook. When I set out for India I little thought that we should meet here. But I had not forgotten you, Mr. Brook. Oh dear me no. I owe you far too much. And did I not promise that sooner or later I would find an opportunity to repay you all I owe with interest? When I learnt by chance in a conversation with Colonel Gunston that…'
'Gunston!' The word burst from Roger's lips. For the past four days he had been praying for a speedy chance to plunge his rapier through the gallant Colonel's heart; now he would have opened his arms to him as to a long lost brother. His eyes lighting up with the sudden new hope that if Gunston was in the city he might play the role of a guardian angel, Roger hurried on: 'Gunston! Colonel Gunston. Where is he? I demand to see him!'
'You are no longer in a position to demand anything not even satisfaction, should I again knock you down,' Malderini replied with a sneer. 'As for Colonel Gunston, when His Highness learned that troops were advancing in this direction from