With a sigh, Roger sank down on the pouf. The Wazier began to tick points off on his long fingers. 'Jawahir-ul-daula defies the Company. The Colonel Gunston is sent away empty handed, Malderini kidnaps an English lady. He uses her to lure here her husband. Both disappear in Bahna. At that the aristocrat English of Calcutta become greatly angry. They say to the weak Sir Shore: You shall shilly-shally no longer but must make an example of this small state. The force of Gunston's is ordered to advance, and it is Malderini who has the ear of His Highness. He will puff the vain youth up with pride and counsel him to fight. If I protest, that will provide the excuse Malderini is already seeking. Because my eyes are afflicted his evil glance cannot dominate me; so he bears me great hatred. He is eager for the chance to destroy me. Yet, say that I do not give it to him; what then?'
As the Wazier paused, evidently expecting an answer, Roger said: 'Your fate will be sealed just the same, because the British will defeat the Bahna army. If His Highness and yourself do not die in battle you, as his Wazier, will be held responsible with him for the policy which brought the war about, and have to pay the penalty.'
'Your thoughts are as mine. Because the evil Malderini has the power to make Jawahir-ul-daula his cat’s-paw against the English, many of our people must die, our treasury be emptied, the city perhaps sacked, and my family lose the throne. How shall we prevent this?'
Without, this time, waiting for a reply, Rai-ul-daula continued: 'We must invite attack before the English in Calcutta become really angry and force Sir Shore to order our destruction. The Colonel Gunston must march his troops swiftly through the mountains. His Highness will order his army to take the field; but it will not fight. I and its other principal commanders will so arrange that it does not. Jawahir-ul-daula has had his opportunity to reign, He has proved himself a weak and Bad Prince. He will be deposed. Malderini will be seized and executed. Your wife will be freed. The colonel Gunston will be entertained by many dancing girls and given rich presents. When he leaves he will take back with him the twelve lakhs of rupees owed to the Company. All will be well.'
'You give me new hope?' Roger exclaimed eagerly. 'But how, Excellency, are we to get Gunston to act.'
That should not be difficult; the Wazier shrugged, if you go to him, tell him how things are here, and inform him of our conversation.'
Again Roger jumped to his feet. 'Of course! He might distrust a written message, fearing it to be a trap; whereas if I tell him personally all that has occurred cannot fail to convince him. But can you get me out of the city? I'd need a horse, too; and a guide.'
Rai-ul-duala rose from the divan. His squint was most disconcerting, but he smiled. 'I am happy that you find my plan good; for my life hangs on it, as well as the safety of your wife. All is provided for. Come with me.'
The Begum Gunavati had also risen to her feet. Going to a cabinet she produced a flat package and, handing it to Roger, said: 'Hospitality has been outraged by our failure to offer you food and drink. That time is precious must be our poor excuse; but this may help to support you on your journey.'
Having thanked her he followed the Wazier out into a square hall. A tall hawk-featured native whose skin was paler than that of most Indians was waiting there and salaamed to him. Acknowledging the salutation with a wave of his hand, he said to Roger: 'This is Mahmud Ali Kajar, an Afghan of the far north. I brought him with me from Delhi and trust him as I would a brother. He speaks a little Persian and will take you safely through the mountains.' Then he turned and led the way up several flights of stairs.
When they reached the second floor Rai-ul-daula crossed the landing and entered a room in which a single lamp was burning. Its light was enough to show a stout rope coiled up on the floor beneath a latticed window. Mahmud Ali opened the window and threw out the unsecured end of the rope, smiled at Roger, then climbed over the sill and shinned down it.
The Wazier laid a hand on Roger's shoulder, and said, 'Follow him and have no fear. The camp is twenty miles distant and the road to it winds through the mountains making half as much again; but the moon will soon be up and prove your friend. You should be with the Colonel Gunston before the heat of morning. May the Gods protect you and bring you back swiftly.'
Roger was very conscious that, although their interests were mutual, he owed both his life and this chance to save Clarissa to the Wazier; so he thanked him most earnestly. Then, loath to lose an unnecessary moment, he slid over the window-sill and, hand-over-hand, lowered himself quickly to the ground.
The house from which he had come was built into the great wall, so he was now outside the city; and the starlight was sufficient for him to recognise, only a hundred yards away, the outline of the tower-flanked gate by which he had been brought into it soon after dusk had fallen. The rope's end danced before him as Rai-ul-duala began to draw it up, then Mahmud Ali twitched him by the sleeve, drawing him towards the open country.
For a few minutes they stumbled over rough ground, then they struck the road. A half-mile walk along it brought them to a farm house. Leaving Roger outside, Mahmud Ali went into its yard; evidently arrangements had already been made, for he emerged again almost at once leading two horses.
At a steady trot they set off, keeping to the main road for about two miles, then turning off it onto one that led southward. Half an hour later the moon had risen silvering the tops of a low range of mountains they were approaching. Roger had met with no serious injury either while being captured or during the time he had spent as a prisoner, and although it was many hours since he had slept he was not conscious of any feeling of fatigue. The fact that, by a miracle, he was free again was sufficient to renew his vigour, and the thought that Clarissa's rescue depended on his exertions, spurred him to fresh efforts.
Halting only from time to time to rest the horses, they rode hour after hour along twisting stony tracks, down steep hills, through boulder-strewn rivulets, and up again through dark gorges. The moon had set and the sky was paling in the east when Mahmud Ali reined in his mount at the farther end of a pass, and pointing southward said in his stilted Persian:
'I come no farther, Sahib. From here, were it light, you could see town of Bamanghati. It lies in plain; five miles, six perhaps. To right of it lies camp. Allah be with you!'
As Roger rode on alone he suddenly felt hungry, so he took from his pocket the flat packet that the Begum had given him. To his delight he found it to be a slab of nougat, for few things could have been better suited to sustain him that the rich mixture of honey and almonds. By the time he had disposed of a dozen mouthfuls he was half-way down the winding track and, at intervals, could now see plainly both the town and camp. Another half-hour and, with his mount in a lather from having cantered the last mile, he reached the entrance to the lines.
He had made the arduous journey in about five hours, so it was not yet seven o'clock; but the camp was already stirring. The sepoys were milking their goats and lighting fires to cook their chupatties; havildars were shouting orders at fatigue squads and orderlies taking officers' chargers down to water at a stream that flowed through the camp.
A guard was being relieved at the roadside as he passed, but as he was a European no attempt was made to stop him. On slightly higher ground, a quarter of a mile away, stood a row of larger tents and two big marquees, which were obviously the officers' quarters. Riding straight up to them, he threw himself off his horse. For the first time he was conscious of a terrible fatigue and stiffness of his limbs, but the knowledge that he was now certain of securing help to rescue Clarissa kept his mind buoyant.
In front of one of the tents, a young officer, in his shirtsleeves, was just about to wash in a canvas bucket, and Roger called to him urgently:
'Colonel Gunston! Where is he? I must see him at once.'
Pointing to one of the marquees, the young man called back. 'He is in there. But he'll still be asleep, and he is apt to resent being woken early.'
'I can't help that,' Roger croaked, his voice gone suddenly hoarse. 'Anyway, he'll not resent it on this occasion. I come on a matter of life or death.'
The young man promptly put down the bowl he was holding, ordered his servant to take Roger's mount and hurried with him over to the marquee. The sentry in front of it came to attention and stood rigid as they passed through the flap. Inside it was divided into two sections, the larger comfortably furnished as a reception room, and behind it a curtained-off sleeping-quarter. In the first a native servant was seated cross-legged on the floor pipe-claying his master's equipment. With a look of surprised apprehension he quickly came to his feet and put a finger to his lips; but the officer told him sharply to wake the Colonel Sahib.
With evident reluctance the man went over to the curtain and called several times, softly, through it. After a moment there came the sound of hearty cursing, then low muttering and a pause.
Roger could hardly contain his impatience. He knew that by this time his escape must have been discovered. When it became evident that he had got clean away Malderini would expect him to return with troops. That meant that the Venetian would expedite his plan for using Clarissa in some horrible occult ceremony; or he might disappear from Bahna with her. But he could not know that Roger had been aided in his escape and supplied with a horse and guide; so he would probably count himself safe for several days at least. There was, therefore, still a good chance to take him by surprise before he could harm Clarissa. But only if Gunston broke camp at once, for it would take two days to march the troops through the hills; so every moment counted.
Suddenly the curtain was wrenched aside, and Gunston appeared, wrapped in a chamber-robe, his red hair tousled and his beefy face flushed with anger. Beyond him Roger caught a glimpse of a wide-eyed young native girl with small firm breasts sitting up among the rumpled coverings of a divan.
'What the hell's the meaning of this?' Gunston shouted. Then, recognising his visitor, he exclaimed, "Why, damn'e if it isn't Roger Brook! And what a state you're in, man! You look as if you'd been beset by robbers and barely got away. But what the devil brings you here?'
'I come from Banna,' Roger cried. 'You were there recently. You met a Venetian, a man named Malderini, and told him that Clarissa and I were in Calcutta.'
'Did I! Why, yes; perhaps I made mention of you to him. But what of it?'
'He bears me a deadly grudge. He came down to Calcutta, and while I was up at Chinsurah kidnapped Clarissa.'.
Gunston's sandy eyebrows shot up. 'Good God! The swine! D'you mean he's holding her prisoner in Bahna?'
'Yes. I followed; but he guessed I would and laid an ambush for me. He meant to kill me by slow torture; but by the grace of God I escaped, and have been riding hell for leather through the hills all night.'
'Well done! I will say you never lacked for guts, Brook. But what of Clarissa?'
'To arrange her escape was impossible. That fiend has her prisoner still, and threatens all sorts of abominations for her.'
'Poor girl! What a hellish business! I don't wonder at the state you're in. But what's to be done?'
'Done!' cried Roger. 'Why, sound the alarm! Parade your troops! Break camp!'
'What's this you say?'
'Give orders for an immediate march. Every moment is precious. We can start in an hour. We'll be through the mountains in two days. Two nights hence we'll take the city by surprise, and have her out of his clutches.'
Gunston's full mouth fell open; then he shook his head. 'I'm sorry for you, Brook. Indeed I am. And I've never concealed from you that I've a soft spot for Clarissa. But this trouble must have driven you out of your mind. What you suggest is impossible.'
'Impossible!' Roger gasped. 'You cannot mean…'
'I mean that, were you my dearest friend, or Clarissa my own wife, I could not use the Company's troops in a private quarrel. And I have my orders. They are in no circumstances to start a war with the Rajah of Bahna.'
Chapter 18
A Tough Nut to Crack
Roger swore, argued, cursed, reasoned and pleaded; but all in vain. He explained that the Wazier intended to bring the Rajah's army over to them; so there would be no fighting. Gunston replied that he would not trust the word of any native, let alone a cross-eyed one. Roger implored him to at least make a demonstration in force. Gunston countered that it would need only one fool on either side to let off a musket for the demonstration to become a bloody battle. Roger begged for one company of infantry with which to make the attempt himself. Gunston refused on the grounds that they were his troops, his orders were positive and, if even a score of them were used in an act of war, he would be held responsible. Roger called him a coward. Gunston, with commendable restraint, declared that he would not accept a challenge from a man who was out of his mind. Finally, driven to a frenzy by the thought of Clarissa, and that Gunston had the means to save her but would not use them, Roger rushed upon him and attempted to strike him in the face.
Thoroughly worn out, as Roger was, his assault failed dismally. Gunston was fresh from a night's sleep and, in any case, the stronger physically. He seized Roger's wrists and held him off; then bellowed an order that he should be put in irons and taken to a tent. Five minutes later Roger was dragged away, manacled and pushed into a tent, the flap of which was laced up and a guard put on duty outside it.
The tent was a spare officer's quarter what a mat on the floor and a low divan. Choking with rage at having been put in irons, racked with anguish by fears for Clarissa, and utterly-distraught at the thought that there was now no hope of rescuing her, he flung himself down. Nature, too, had chosen this moment to exact from him the price of his exertions and ordeals. He ached in every limb, he could hardly see out of his eyes, his head seemed on fire and his brain was bemused.
For Roger to lose his temper was a very rare thing. Vaguely he realised that he had been a fool to do so, and that he would not have had he been thwarted by anyone other than Gunston; but, from his school days, the sight of that ruddy, coarsely handsome face had been to him as a red rag to a bull. His mind went back to Sherborne and Gunston's bullying him there snatching and spoiling his small precious belongings, and taunting him into fights he could not hope to win.
It was now more than twenty-four hours since he had closed his eyes. During them he had ridden nearly eighty miles, and been harrowed by every sort of exhausting emotion. With tenuous memories of his school-days still drifting through his mind, he fell into a profound sleep.
When he awoke it was night. For a moment he could not think where he was; then, as he moved, the clank of irons that confined his wrists and ankles brought everything back to him. He had been roused by the entrance of a tall figure holding a lantern, who now stood beside the divan. With a groan he stared up into the shadow above the light and made out the face of the officer who had taken him to Gunston's marquee. The young man said:
'The Colonel sends his compliments, Sir; and says that if you are prepared to conduct yourself in a reasonable manner he would be pleased to see you.'
Roger sat up. He had slept the clock round. Owing to the resilience from strain and exertion which came from a naturally vigorous mentality, the habit of facing up to difficult situations, and excellent health, his mind was clear and his body no longer feeling the effects of fatigue. He managed to raise a rather strained laugh, and replied:
'I fear I behaved very badly yesterday or was it this morning? Anyway, if you'll have me relieved of these irons I'll promise not to repeat the performance.'
The officer called into the tent a farrier corporal and, with a twisted smile, Roger watched while, for the second time in twenty-four hours, fetters were knocked from his limbs; then he accompanied the youngster who had been sent to fetch him to the Colonel's marquee.
Gunston was sitting in an easy chair behind a table that had on it a decanter of Madeira and two glasses. As Roger was shown in, he gave him a sharp glance, dismissed the offi
cer, and said:
'You were not yourself this morning, Brook; but in the circumstances I can hardly blame you. I'd have you, though, remember two things: firstly, that I am not a free agent to do as I wish; secondly, that although we have never had any love for one another, this is no time to quarrel. Sit down now, and join me in a glass of wine. There will be a meal for you presently. I thought you would prefer to feed on your own rather than sup with the rest of us in mess.'
'That was considerate of you,' Roger replied. 'I am in no state to support trivial conversation with strangers. As for this morning, I apologise. You were right about my being out of my mind; but the horrors that threaten Clarissa…'
'I know. I would to God my hands had not been tied by our poltroon of a Governor; but we'll get nowhere by going again into that.' As Gunston spoke he was pouring the Madeira. Setting down the decanter, he added: 'I've despatched a Captain with a troop as escort to inform the Rajah that should one hair of Mrs. Brook's head be harmed we'll hang him from his own gate. But more than that I could not do. I could not demand the surrender of her person, since to do so would have amounted to an ultimatum.'
Roger's throat was parched, so he drank off the first glass of wine in three long swallows. While doing so he considered the possible results of Gunston's move. He feared the probability was that the young Rajah, being under Malderini's influence, would ignore the threat. It was certain, too, that the Captain would mention Roger's arrival at the British camp, and that might invite the Venetian to hasten in his designs against Clarissa.
However, it was clear that Gunston had acted with the best intentions, so Roger tactfully refrained from voicing his thoughts, and said, 'We can only pray that Jawahir-ul-daula heeds your warning. You will appreciate, though, that unlike yourself I am not bound by any orders, and cannot possibly sit here with folded hands awaiting events.'
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