Hervey 05 - The Sabre's Edge

by Allan Mallinson

  Hervey took the reins of the loose horse which Armstrong now led up, sheathed his sabre and sprang into the saddle. He would receive Durjan Sal's sword with proper ceremony. But he could not trust him, even now - even with two hundred of the Company's best cavalry trotting up fast behind. Wainwright took post left and rear, his carbine cradled, loaded ready. Armstrong drew and sloped his sabre, taking post on the right.

  Durjan Sal, his tulwar now sheathed, and those of his followers, brought his horse to the walk and then to a halt in front of them. He bowed his head - not submissively, but in acknowledgement that he was beaten - drew his sword again and held it out in both palms. Wainwright brought his carbine to the port, lest the usurper have second thoughts. Armstrong took the tulwar - a fine, jewelled piece -and handed it to Hervey. The two dozen followers could wait for the Eighth to close.

  Hervey looked Durjan Sal in the eye, searching for a clue. He saw only a mean-featured man, who could not hold a candle to those who had fought so senselessly for him on the maidan just now -and who were dying still, no doubt, in the citadel. He looked at his charger, a sleek Marwari stallion, blood about its mouth and flanks from its rider's hard hands and ruthless spurs. He would have this horse, in the old fashion. He would ride it, as victorious generals had their adversaries', and show the usurper what it was to defy the King's authority. He looked at the favourite wife, a beauty by more even than Jhaut measures. There was a time when she would have been his too, to submit like the charger to the victor's will. He had the urge to revive the custom now. He had the greatest urge to revive it.

  'Take the lady Durjan Sal into protection, Serjeant-Major,' he said. 'Corporal Wainwright, have the prisoner ride another, and take possession of his mount!'

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  REGIMENTAL MOURNING

  Three days later

  Despite the laurels that had daily come the regiment's way since the fall of the fortress, there was a distinct air of discouragement about the Sixth. The death of Sir Ivo Lankester had gone hard with all ranks. Not surprisingly though, for despite his absence of a year and more, and his return only very lately, there had been something about Sir Ivo that seemed to win the absolute trust of a subordinate. It was perhaps the same easy, patrician manner with which he went about his command - nothing in the least dilatory, yet breathing a calm assurance that said all would be well. Hervey thought him superior even to his brother, and Sir Edward Lankester had been a paragon. Sir Ivo, though he had come late to the regiment - direct to the lieutenant-colonelcy, indeed - had been an officer in the true Sixth mould nevertheless: he did not flog, he spent his money generously but unostentatiously, and he gave his time as unstintingly. He did not have to come to India in the first place. He was rich enough to have sold out and bought command of another regiment more agreeably posted, as many did. And he had died because he felt he had not shared enough of his regiment's perils.

  And to all this was added a curious and entirely illogical sense of failure: the regiment had lost its commanding officer - by some dereliction it had brought about his death. Even Joynson, who of all men knew the circumstances of Sir Ivo's being in the trenches, could not escape the mood.

  With Hervey discouragement was made worse by apprehensiveness. It was uncertain what the succession of command would be, and it seemed only yesterday, still, that the regiment was made unhappy by the imposition of an unworthy lieutenant-colonel. Combermere had been quick to give Joynson a brevet, but that would not do with the Horse Guards for long. But for now there was little business to be about but that of a garrison - and little enough of that, since the occupation was the business of the infantry.

  'I wish that budgerow could have been but half a mile faster in the hour,' said Eyre Somervile, picking his way carefully over the loose masonry of the citadel's walls. 'It's a poor business to hear accounts only.'

  Hervey unfastened his pelisse coat a little. The sun was warm, and the wind that had shaken the Sixth's camp so much the day before had gone.

  'And Amherst had particularly wanted that I accompany Sir Charles Metcalfe when he installed Bulwant Sing’ continued Somervile, himself wrapped in thick woollens.

  'Well’ said Hervey, sympathetically, 'I can see that he might have thought the siege would go longer. But you were right to be elsewhere in the hours after the citadel struck. I'm afraid it was the old rules of war for many, and the sepoys the worst. The officers were not nearly active enough. I do believe that many of them were so intent themselves on loot that - do you know I once had to put a bullet in a man in Spain? He was in such a craze of lust and murder. They get their blood heated in a storming, and it takes a time to cool, especially if it's full of drink. That's when an ensign shows his mettle, in my view.'

  'I heard something about men from the artillery, gone over to the Jhaut side.'

  'Oh, yes - two, and able gunners they were.'

  'They are to be executed, I imagine. Is their reason known?'

  Hervey smiled grimly. 'They were hanged at once for all to see - from the walls.'

  Somervile looked surprised. 'Was that lawful?'

  Hervey shrugged. 'I suppose it was justice. They danced a full two minutes.'

  They walked on in silence another fifty yards.

  'I should so much have liked to see the assault’ declared Somervile, now having come to terms with its aftermath. 'You know, Bhurtpore has been a name to me since first I came to India.'

  'Well, it is better that you come now than a month hence. The engineers say there'll be not a thing to see by February. They blew up the Futtah Bourge two days ago. You really should have seen it - the most monstrous heathen edifice! Though I'm half agreed with those who say we should erect one of our own.' He gestured to where the column had once stood. 'But what an affair it was. You know, we took the place in the end with remarkably little loss compared with these things in the Peninsula. It was all done very scientifically. I'm daily more of a mind that there's so much that could be done to better the business of campaigning. We went to this business, you know, with the same weapons of a hundred years ago.'

  Somervile nodded gravely. 'But in the end, it is the breasts of brave men that win the day, is it not?'

  'In the end, yes,' said Hervey, reluctantly. 'Though the end has too often been close to the beginning. And for want of imagination by those whose design the battle is. Of that we had ample evidence in Rangoon. But I'm glad to observe also that it was officers' breasts in higher proportion here. General Edwards is killed, and a good many brigadiers and field officers wounded.'

  'I am truly sorry in Lankester's regard,' said Somervile, stopping and shaking his head. 'You know I believed him a most admirable fellow.'

  'The best,' replied Hervey, simply.

  'And I'm sorry that events did not prove you wrong about your cornet.'

  'Green, yes. I confess I feel no remorse at having placed him in the position whence he met his death, but I heartily regret the circumstances, for his mettle was not truly determined. But then perhaps it was the best way. If he had dishonoured himself and the regiment, what would follow now? No, it's better, surely, that the regiment believes he died doing his duty, having volunteered for the hottest place. And there's the letter, of course. I've no notion of Green's father, a tea merchant in Lincolnshire as I understand it, but he has lost a son, and it will doubtless go heavily with him.'

  ‘And I imagine,' said Somervile, helpfully, 'that having invested so much of his provincial fortune in making a gentleman of him, he would want to be able to tell his family and friends that he had died like one. It is ironic, is it not, that the profits of tea should send a man to die in the very place the profits originate?'

  Hervey sighed.

  'What of Rose, by the way? I did not see him this morning.'

  Hervey brightened. 'Oh, Rose. I confess I was wrong there. He's been the very best of troop-leaders. He was in the storming party. He fought like a wildcat. "Death, or honour restored" I think his motto was.'

/>   'I am pleased to hear it. A regiment cannot afford to cast aside a talent for battle at such times - even a flawed one as Rose's might be.'

  'No, indeed. And the further question in this regard is what shall be Armstrong's reward.'

  Somervile nodded. 'Ah yes. Just so. His doings are, by your account, wholly exceptional.'

  Hervey smiled. 'Not for Armstrong. But, yes, they are singular for a man whose schooling and obligation are so limited.'

  'Then I trust he shall have a prize.'

  Hervey frowned. 'Prizes. Now there is a matter for attention.' He reached inside his coat and took out a package of papers. 'General orders; listen: "Officers commanding Corps and Detachments, are directed to have it particularly explained to the men under their command, and also have it proclaimed in their Regimental Bazaars by beat of Tom Tom, that the Prize Property of every description, taken within the Walls of Bhurtpore, is immediately to be sent and delivered over to Lieut.-Col. The Hon. J. Finch, Prize Agent; and any person found secreting or detaining Prize Property, will be placed in confinement, and punished accordingly."'

  Somervile looked puzzled; it was but the usual way with prize money.

  'The point is, there has been far too great an expectation of prize money in the army. Durjan Sal's property isn't likely to amount to much, nor his instruments of war either. The real wealth of the place is Bulwant Sing's.'

  'Indeed so,' said Somervile, still looking puzzled. 'I am presuming that the agent will determine what is for restitution.'

  Hervey looked doubtful. 'That is not my sense of it. The order makes quite explicit that anything taken is, by that fact, prize property. But perhaps that was not the intention. Perhaps the order was written with too pressing a haste.’ 'Is there anything else?’

  Hervey turned to another of the sheets. 'Indeed there is. The commander-in-chief's thanks to the army.’ He began scanning it for the titbits. '"The arrangements which fell to the share of Brigadier-Gen. Sleigh, C. B., Commanding the Cavalry, not only during the Assault, but from the commencement of the investiture of Bhurtpore, are to be appreciated by the fact, that none of the Enemy escaped from the Fort but on the conditions of surrender; and that the Capture of the Usurper Durjan Sal, with his Family, and almost every person of rank or authority under him, has been effected through the vigilance and gallantry of the several Corps employed under his command.’’’

  'Handsome, indeed,’ said Somervile. Then his brow furrowed. 'You know, Hervey, we had a very particular fear for you. Emma and I, I mean.’

  'Oh ... I should not—’

  'I mean that your name at the head of any casualty list would have gone hard with us. There are too many senior officers on that list for it not to be perfectly apparent how the fight went.’

  Hervey nodded. 'Indeed,’ he said quietly. 'And thank you for those sentiments. It is appreciated, I do assure you.’

  'And speaking of senior officers,’ added Somervile, brightly, 'you say that Anburey is perfectly well?'

  Hervey shrugged and smiled. 'Not a mark on him. He is much grieved, however, by how the mine went. He blames himself for the excess of powder.'

  'Not for long, I hope,' said Somervile, his usual cool detachment returned. 'It sounded like science of the most experimental nature, from all you've told me.'

  'Indeed it was. And I hope Anburey is duly feted for it.'

  Somervile narrowed his eyes a little. 'And what, might I ask, shall Local-Major Hervey expect for his address?'

  Hervey shrugged matter-of-factly. 'A brevet, I would hope. Combermere's as good as said so. He wants me to join his staff in Calcutta.'

  'You will say yes, of course?'

  'I'm very much inclined to, but there's a deal to resolve in the regiment first. There'll be promotion without payment if Joynson gets Sir Ivo's half-colonelcy, but besides Strickland there are two who are senior to me serving on the staff in England, so that will not be mine.'

  'It seems unfair since you were the one in harm's way.'

  'It is the system.'

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  PRIZES

  Calcutta

  GENERAL ORDERS BY THE RIGHT HON. THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL IN COUNCIL

  Fort-William, 29th Jan. 1826

  A Royal Salute, and Three Vollies of Musketry, to be fired at all the Stations of the Land Forces serving in the East Indies, in honor of the Capture, by Assault, of the Fortified City of Bhurtpore, on the morning of the 18th instant, by the Army under the Personal Command of His Excellency the Right Hon. Lord Combermere, Commander-in-Chief, and the Unconditional Surrender of the Citadel of Bhurtpore, on the same day.

  By Command of the Right Hon. The Governor-General in Council,

  GEO SWINTON Secretary to the Government.

  A month after the salute was fired at Fort William, Hervey and the Sixth returned to Calcutta. It was a good homecoming. Europeans and natives alike welcomed them, and 'Lo, see the conquering hero come’ was played so frequently that it began to pall. Hervey, as Joynson's second in command once again, confined himself to the regimental lines and the voluminous administrative detail that accompanied the end of a protracted period in the field. In addition, there was the matter of the church parade for Sir Ivo Lankester. His remains lay with the others who had died in the assault - interred close where they had fallen, with the simplest of ceremonies and yet to be memorialized in marble - but his memory had still to be hallowed in the regimental fashion. To Hervey fell the duty of making the arrangements, and not least in accordance with the sensibilities of Lankester’s widow.

  On the third evening he dined with the Somerviles. Eyre Somervile had told his wife everything of Bhurtpore when he had returned a week earlier, and she had read, too, Lord Combermere’s despatch to the Governor-General. Emma was as much apprised of events as any woman in Calcutta; there were but a few details awaiting Hervey's personal explanation. And she had, with great delicacy, attended on Lady Lankester several times in order to supply answers to such questions as the widow could conceive, she knowing so little of affairs in India. Besides the obvious pleasure in their reunion, therefore, both Emma and Hervey expected the evening to be of material advantage in the question of regimental mourning.

  'I am to call on her tomorrow,' said Hervey, nodding his thanks to the khitmagar who held his chair for him as they sat down to dinner. 'With Joynson and the troop-captains. I hope then to gain her general approval for the form of service. It's a pity the bishop is off on one of his peregrinations. Our chaplain shall just have to rise to the occasion.'

  'You will find her very composed, Matthew. That, I think, I can assure you. She was very grateful for your and Colonel Joynson's letters especially.'

  'Joynson is trying to discover what her intentions are with regards to a passage home. Has she said anything?'

  'Only that she did not intend travelling at once.' 'I am surprised.'

  'She will have her reasons, I'm sure, which doubtless will become apparent with time.'

  'Indeed, my dear,' said Somervile, anxious to begin their dinner.

  Emma nodded to the khansamah for the soup to be brought.

  'Now,' continued Somervile, draining his first glass of hock faster than Emma's glance suggested approval of. 'Laying this matter to one side for the moment, what have you decided about the appointment to Combermere's staff?'

  Hervey raised his eyebrows. 'I am offered a brevet - a lieutenant-colonel's brevet, I mean. I can hardly decline the promotion.'

  'Excellent!'

  Emma smiled too. 'And my congratulations, Matthew! Lieutenant-colonel - it sounds exactly comme il faut, and very deserving, I'm sure.'

  'Thank you. Thank you both,' said Hervey smiling, but not as fully.

  'You have some reservations?' asked Emma.

  He did not answer. Indeed he did have reservations, though they were not easily put. He was thirty-five years old (his birthday had been but a few days ago, unobserved except in the bibi khana, to where he had escaped for a few hours of fo
rgetfulness) and the proprietor of a troop. Who would salute his prospects if he did not take the brevet? And yet . . .

  'Matthew?'

  'Oh, I . . . the regiment is recalled to England, don't you know. We learned it only today.'

  'Ah, I see.' Emma glanced at her husband. The news seemed not to disappoint them both as much as it might.

  'I, too,' replied Somervile, half-emptying his refilled glass. 'Not recalled as such . . .'

  'Eyre has been invited to join the Court of Directors,' Emma explained.

  Hervey did now smile without reserve. 'That is capital news, is it not? My congratulations to you too!'

  Somervile nodded. 'Capital indeed. And yet I am in two minds. I have spent so long in the Indies.'

  'I think, Matthew,' said Emma, glancing at her husband again, 'that Eyre believes that if you take the position here with Lord Combermere, his own choice will be the easier.'

  Somervile said nothing.

  'A really very agreeable thought,' replied Hervey, much heartened. 'Though I fail to see how my being Lord Combermere's military secretary should facilitate your business with the Governor-General and the council.'

  Hervey's reply presumed which decision it would be, but Somervile was not minded to observe on it. 'Just wait until you have seen the workings of Fort William, my good friend. Then you will understand.'

  The prospect sounded not altogether inviting.

  'So you see, Matthew,' said Emma, laying a hand on his. 'You shall make the choice between you.'

  Next day at ten o'clock, Brevet-Lieutenant-Colonel Joynson, Brevet-Major Hervey and Captains Strickland and Rose stepped down from the regimental caleche at the residence of the Governor-General. They wore levee dress and together presented a picture of the utmost smartness, as was their intention in order to display their greatest respects.