Flashmans' Lady fp-6

by George MacDonald Fraser

  The stables were only five minutes' walk, and I lounged about in a fever of nonchalance while the under-officer laboriously spelled out Fankanonikaka's note and looked surly. He didn't have much French, but I supplemented the written order as best I could, and since he recognized me as the sergeant-general he did what he was told.

  "Two horses for me," says I, "and the other dozen for the Guards' officers out at Ankay. Send 'em out now, with a groom, and tell him to follow the Guards' track, but not to hurry. I don't want the cattle worn out, d'you see?"

  "No grooms," says he, sulky-like.

  "Then get one," says I, "or I'll mention you to the Queen, may she live a thousand years. Been out to Ambohipotsy lately, have you? You'll find yourself observing it from the top of the cliff, unless you look sharp - and put a water-bottle, filled, with each horse, and plenty of jaka in the saddle-bags."

  I left him as pale as only a scared nigger can be, and rode at a gentle pace in the direction of Prince Rakota's palace, leading the second horse. I daren't hurry, for a mounted man was rare enough in Antan' at any time, and a hastening rider in the middle of the night would have had them hollering peeler. This is the worst of all, when every second's precious but you have to dawdle - I think of strolling terrified through the pandy lines at Lucknow with Campbell's message, or that nerve-racking wait on the steamboat wharf at Memphis with a disguised slave-girl on my elbow and the catchers at our very heels; you must idle along carelessly with your innards screaming - had Andriama talked yet? Did the Queen know it all by now? Was Fankanonikaka, perhaps, already shrieking under the knives? Were the city gates still open? They never closed 'em, as a rule; if I found them shut, that would be a sure sign that the caper was blown - heaven help us then.

  Rakota's place in the suburbs stood well apart from the other houses, behind a stockade approached through a belt of small trees and bushes. I left the horses there, out of sight, breathed a silent prayer that Malagassy hacks knew enough not to stray or neigh, and set forward boldly for the front gate. There was a porter dozing under the lantern, but he let me in ready enough - they don't care much, these folk - and presently I was kicking the jigger-dubber*(* Door-keeper.) awake on the front steps, boldly announcing myself from the Silver Palace with a message for his royal highness.

  This presently produced a butler, who knew my face, but when I demanded instant audience, he cocked his frosty head disdainfully.

  "Their highnesses are not returned … ah … sergeant-general. They are dining with Count Potrafanton. You can wait - on the porch."

  That was a blow; I hadn't a moment to spare. I hesitated, and then saw there was nothing for it but the high hand.

  "It's no matter, porter," says I, briskly. "My message is that the foreign woman who is here is to be sent to the Silver Palace immediately. The Queen wishes to see her."

  If my nerves hadn't been snapping, I dare say I'd have been quite entertained at the expressions which followed each other across his wrinkled black face. I was only tenth-caste foreign rubbish, a mere slave, he was thinking; on the other hand, I was sergeant-general, with impressive if undefined power, and much more to the point, I was the Queen's current favourite and riding-master, as all the world knew. And I brought a command ostensibly from the throne itself. All this went through the woolly head - how much he'd been told by his master about the need to keep Elspeth's presence secret, I couldn't guess, but eventually he saw which way wisdom - and Ambohipotsy - lay.

  "I shall inform her," says he, stiffly, "and arrange an escort."

  "That won't be necessary," says I, harshly. "I have a sedan waiting beyond the gates."

  Butlers are the bloody limit; he was ready to argue, so eventually I just blazed at him, and threatened if he didn't have her down and on parade in a brace of shakes, I'd march straight back to the palace and tell the Queen her son's butler had said "Snooks!" and slammed the door on me. He quivered at that, more in anger than sorrow, and then marched off, all black dignity, to fetch her. You could see he was wondering what things were coming to nowadays.

  I waited, chewing my knuckles, pacing the porch, and groaning at the recollection of how long it took the bloody woman to dress. Ten to one she was peering at herself in the glass, patting her curls and making moues, while Andriama was probably blabbing, and plot, alarm, and arrest were breaking out with a vengeance; Ranavalona's tentacles might be reaching out. through the city this moment, in search of me - I stamped and cursed aloud in a fever of impatience, and then strode through the open door at the sound of a female voice. Sure enough, there she was, in cloak and bonnet, prattling her way down the stairs, and the butler carrying what looked like a hat-box, of all things. She gave a little shriek at the sight of me, but before I could frown her into silence another sound had me wheeling round, hackles rising, my hand starting towards my sword-hilt.

  Through the open door I could see down the long drive to the main gate. It was dim down yonder, under the flickering lantern, but some kind of commotion was going on. There was a clatter of metal, a voice raised in command, a steady tread advancing - and into my horrified view, their steel and leather glittering in the beams cast by the front door lamps, came a file of Hova guardsmen.

  I may not be good for much, but if I have a minor talent it's for finding the back door when coppers, creditors, and outraged husbands are coming in the front. I had the advantage of having my pants up and my boots on this time, and even hampered by the need to drag Elspeth along, I was going like a rat to a drainpipe before the butler even had his mouth open. Elspeth gave one shriek of astonishment as I bundled her along a passage beneath the stairs.

  "Harry! Where are you going - we have left my band-box-!"

  "Damn your band-box!" I snapped. "Keep quiet and run!"

  I whirled round a corner; there was a corridor obviously leading to the back, and I pounded along it, my protesting helpmeet clutching her bonnet and squeaking in alarm. A startled black face popped out of a side-door; I hit it in panic and Elspeth screamed. The corridor turned at right angles; I swore and plunged into an empty room - a glimpse of a long table and dining chairs in the silent dark, and beyond, French windows. I hurtled towards them, hauling her along, and wrenched them open. We were in the garden, dim in the moon-shadows; I cocked an ear and heard - nothing.

  "Harry!" She was squealing in my ear. "What are you about? Leave go my arm - I won't be hustled, do you hear?"

  "You'll either be hustled or dead!" I hissed. "Silence! We are in deadly danger - do you understand? They are coming to arrest us - to kill us! For your life's sake, do as I tell you - and shut up!"

  There was a path, running between high hedges; we sped along it, she demanding in breathless whispers to know what was happening: at the end I got my bearings; we were to the side of the building, in shrubbery, with the front drive round to our left, and from the hidden front door I could hear a harsh voice raised - in Malagassy, unfortunately, but I caught enough words to chill my blood. "Sergeant-general … arrest … search." I groaned softly, and Elspeth began babbling again.

  "Oh, my dress is torn! Harry, it is too bad! What are you - why are we - ow!" I had clapped a hand over her mouth.

  "Be quiet, you silly mort!" I whispered. "We're escaping! There are soldiers hunting us! The Queen is trying to kill me!"

  She made muffled noises, and then got her mouth free. "How dare you call me that horrid word! What does it mean? Let me go this instant! You are hurting my wrist, Harry! What is this absurd nonsense about the Quee—" The shrill torrent was cut off as I imprisoned her mouth again.

  "For God's sake, woman - they'll hear us!" I pulled her in close to the wall. "Keep your voice down, will you?" I took my hand away, unwisely.

  "But why?" At least she had the wit to whisper. "Why are we - oh, I think you are gammoning me! Well, it is a very poor joke, Harry Flashman, and I—"

  "Please, Elspeth!" I implored, shaking my fist in her face. "Ht's true, I swear! If they hear us - we're dead!"

  My grim
acing frenzy may have half-convinced her; at least her pretty mouth opened and closed again with a faint "Oh!" And then, as I crouched, straining my ears for any sound of the searchers, came the tiniest whisper: "But

  Harry, my band-box … I glared her into silence, and then ventured a peep round the angle of the wall. There was a Hova trooper on the porch, leaning on his spear; I could hear faint sounds of talk from the hall - that damned butler giving the game away, no doubt. Suddenly from behind us, in the dark towards the hack of the house, came the crash of a shutter and a harsh voice shouting. Elspeth squeaked, I jumped, and the Hova on the porch must have heard the shout too, for he called to the hall - and here, to my horror, came an under-officer, bounding down the porch steps sword in hand, and running along the front of the house towards our corner.

  There was only one thing for it. I seized Elspeth and thrust her down on her face in the deep shadow at the foot of the wall, sprawling on top of her and hissing frantically to her to keep quiet and lie still. We were only in the nick of time - he rounded the angle of the house and came to a dead stop almost on top of us, his boots spurning the gravel within a yard of Elspeth's head. For a terrible instant I thought he'd seen us - the great black figure towered above us, silhouetted against the night sky, the sword glittering in his hand, but he didn't move, and I realized he was staring towards the back of the house, listening. I could feel Elspeth palpitating beneath me, her turned face a faint white blur just beneath my own - oh, Christ, I prayed, don't let him look down! Suddenly he bawled something in Malagassy, and took a half-step forward - my blood froze as his boot descended within inches of Elspeth's face - but right on top of her hand!

  She started violently beneath me - and then he must have shifted his weight, for as in a nightmare I heard a tiny crack, and her whole body shuddered. Paralysed, I waited for her scream - he must glance down now! - but a voice was shouting from the back of the house, his was bellowing right above us in reply, he plunged forward, his leg brushing my curls, and then he was gone, striding away down the path behind us into the dark, and Elspeth's breath came out in a little, shivering moan. I was afoot in an instant, hauling her upright, half-carrying her into the denser shrubbery on the lawn, knowing we hadn't an instant to lose, bundling her along and hoping to heaven she wouldn't faint. If we could get quickly through the shrubbery unobserved, moving parallel with the drive, and so come to the gate - would they have left a sentry there?

  Fortunately the shrubbery screened our blundering progress entirely; we plunged through the undergrowth and fetched up gasping beneath a great clump of ferns not ten yards from the gate. Far back to our left the Hova was still on the house porch beneath the lamp; through the bushes ahead I could make out the faint gleam of the gate-lantern, but no sound, except from far behind us, where there were distant voices at the back of the house - were they coming nearer … ? I peered cautiously through the fringe of bushes towards the gate - oh, God, there was a damned great Hova, not five yards away, his spear held across his body, looking back towards the house. The light gleamed dully on his massive bare arms and chest, on his gorilla features and gleaming spearhead - my innards quailed at the sight; I couldn't hope to pass that, not with Elspeth in tow - and at that moment my loved one decided to give voice again.

  "Harry!" She was hissing in my ear. "That man - that man stood on my hand! I'm sure my finger is broke!" I recall noting that it must have been indignation rather than complaint, for she added a word which frankly I didn't think she knew.

  "Ssht!" I had my lips against her ear. "I know! We'll … we'll mend it presently. There's a guard on the gate - must get past him!" The voices at the back of the house were growing louder - it was now or never. "Can you walk?"

  "Of course I can walk! It is my poor finger—"

  "Sssht, for Christ's sake! Look, old girl - we must distract his attention, d'you see? The chap on the gate, dammit!" I wouldn't have thought I could yammer and whisper simultaneously - but then I wouldn't have thought I'd be stuck in the bushes in Madagascar plotting escape with a blonde imbecile whose mind, I'll swear, was divided evenly between her wounded finger and her lost band-box. "Yes, he's out there! Now, listen - you must count to five - five, you know - and then stand up and walk out on to the drive! Can you, dearest? - just walk out, there's a good girl! Nod, curse you!" his own rush driving it into his body. His fall wrenched the hilt from my hand, and then I was high-tailing after Elspeth, turning her into the trees, where the horses still stood patiently, cropping at the grass.

  I heaved her bodily on to one of them, her skirts riding up any old how, vaulted aboard the other, and with a hand to steady her, forced the beasts out on to the road beyond. There was a tumult of hidden voices by the gate, but I knew we were clear if she didn't fall - she was always a decent horsewoman, and was clinging to the mane with her good hand. We ploughed off knee to knee, in a swaying canter that took us to the end of one road and down the next, and then I eased up. No sounds behind, and if we heard any we could gallop at need. I clasped her to me, swearing with relief, and asked how her hand was.

  "Oh, it is painful!" cries she. "But Harry, what does it mean? Those dreadful people - I thought I should swoon! And my dress torn, and my finger broke, and every bone in my body shaken! Oh!" She shuddered violently. "Those fearful black soldiers! Did you … did you kill them?"

  "I hope so," says I, looking back fearfully. "Here - take my cloak - muffle your head as well. If they see what you are, we're sunk!"

  "But who? Why are we running? What has happened? I insist you tell me directly! Where are we going—"

  "There's an English ship on the coast! We're going to reach her, but we've got to get out of this hellish city first- if the gates are closed I don't—"

  "But why?" cries she, like a damn parrot, sucking her finger and trying to order her skirts, which wasn't easy, since she was astride. "Oh, this is so uncomfortable! Why are we being pursued - why should they - oh!" Her eyes widened. "What have you done, Harry? Why are they chasing you? Have you done some wrong? Oh, Harry, have you offended the Queen?"

  "Not half as much as she's offended me!" I snarled. "She's a … a … monster, and if she lays hands on us we're done for. Come on, confound it!"

  "But I cannot believe it! Why, of all the absurd things! When I have been so kindly treated - I am sure, whatever it is, if the Prince were to speak to her—"

  I didn't quite tear my hair, but it was a near-run thing. I gripped her by the shoulders instead, and speaking as gently as I could with my teeth chattering, impressed on her that we must get out of the city quickly; that we must proceed slowly, by back streets, to the gates, but there we might have to ride for it; I would explain later

  "Very good," says she. "You need not raise your voice. If you say so, Harry - but it is all extremely odd."

  I'll say that for her, once she understood the urgency of the situation - and even that pea-brain must have apprehended by now that something unusual was taking place - she played up like a good 'un. She didn't take fright, or weep, or even plague me with further questions; I've known clever women, and plenty like Lakshmibai and the Silk One who were better at rough riding and desperate work, but none gamer than Elspeth when the stakes were on the blanket. She was a soldier's wife, all right; pity she hadn't married a soldier.

  But if she was cool enough, I was in a ferment as we picked our way by back-roads to the city wall, and followed it round towards the great gates. By this time there were hardly any folk about, and although the sight of two riders brought some curious looks, no one molested us. But I was sure the alarm must have gone out by now - I wasn't to know that Malagassy bandobast*(* Organization.) being what it was, the last thing they'd have thought to do was close the gates. They never had, so why bother now? I could have shouted with relief when we came in view of the gate-towers, and saw the way open, with only the usual lounging sentinels and a group of loafers round a bonfire. We just held steadily forward, letting 'em see it was the sergeant-general; they s
tared at the horses, but that was all, and with my heart thumping we ambled through under the towers, and then trotted forward among the scattered huts on the Antan' plain.

  Ahead of us the sky was lightening in the summer dawn, and my spirits with it - we were clear, free, and away! - and beyond those distant purple hills there was a British warship, and English voices, and Christian vittles, and safety behind British guns. Four days at most - if the horses I'd sent to Ankay were waiting ahead of us. In that snail-pace country, where any pursuit was sure to be on foot, no one could hope to overtake us, no alarm could outstrip us - I was ready to whoop in my saddle until I thought of that menacing presence still so close, that awful city crouching just behind us, and I shook Elspeth's bridle and sent us forward at a hand-gallop.

  But our luck was still with us. We sighted the change horses just before dawn, raising the dust with the groom jogging along on the leader, and I never saw a jollier sight. They weren't the pick of the light cavalry, but they had fodder and jaka in their saddle-bags, and I knew they'd see us there, if we spelled 'em properly. Thirty miles is as far as any beast can carry me, but that would be as much as Elspeth could manage at a stretch in any event.

  I dismissed the bewildered groom, and on we went at a good round trot. A small horse-herd ain't difficult to manage, if you've learned your trade in Afghanistan. My chief anxiety now was Elspeth. She'd ridden steady - and commendably silent - until now, but as we forged ahead into the empty downland, I could see the reaction at work; she was swaying in the saddle, eyes half-closed, fair hair tumbling over her face, and although I was in a sweat to push on I felt bound to swing off into a little wood to rest and eat. I lifted her out of the saddle beside a stream, and blow me if she didn't go straight off to sleep in my arms. For three hours she never stirred, while I kept a weather eye on the plain, but saw no sign of pursuit.