Lieutenant Jack Crossman stared at the grinning captain before him and made a decision. He walked forward and slapped Deighnton hard around the face. The captain fell off the edge of his desk, his glass of port dropping to the floor. Enraged, within a moment he was upright again, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The eyes of the two shocked soldiers in the room were wide and gawking at the sight of two officers seemingly in a brawl.
Jack said, ‘In the absence of a glove, I had to substitute my hand. You have the choice of weapons, Deighnton.’
‘You’re challenging me to a duel?’ spluttered the captain.
‘It looks like it, doesn’t it? The other day you couldn’t wait to get me on the end of a sword point. Now’s your chance. What’s changed?’
‘And how do you hope to profit by this? Will you come back here and murder these two soldiers, then spring your precious Rajput?’
The sergeant in the corner stood up. He was a burly-looking man, with fists the size of turnips.
‘I have no argument with these men. You, sir, should have no interest in what happens after we duel. If I am dead, then you need not fear for your prisoner. If you are dead, what will it matter to you?’
‘We can’t fight now? I’m on duty, man,’ roared the captain. ‘Send your seconds to me, tomorrow.’
‘It’ll be too late then. I have to leave at first light. It has to be now. Are you afraid?’
The captain’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course I’m not afraid. Of a popinjay like you? But there’s protocol. And if I left my post for such a reason I would be court martialled and well you know it. And,’ the captain glanced behind him at the pair in the corner, ‘duelling is illegal.’
‘It’s your only chance. Hadrow will hear of it, you can be sure of that. I’ll send him a message personally to tell him what a coward he has for a friend in Captain Percival Deighnton.’
Clearly the captain was distressed. He knew he could not go quietly behind the hut and fight a duel. There were two men in the room whose silence he could not rely on. He was one of those officers who was not well liked by the rank and file. Jack had counted on this, believing quite rightly that any friend of Hadrow would be a martinet. One thing vulnerable tyrants cannot depend on in a time of crisis is the support of those they have oppressed. These two troopers would be as happy to send him down the river as they would be to drink to the health of their mothers.
‘I see you’re not quite willing to ruin your career for your friend,’ Crossman said, twisting the knife in the wound. ‘I don’t blame you. Hadrow isn’t worth it. Of course, if you let my man go, I will obviously say nothing to Hadrow and the very next time that we meet I will of course be very pleased to give you satisfaction.’
Deighnton stood for a very long time, staring at Crossman. Jack could see the red marks of his fingers still burning on the cheek of the captain. Finally, the other spoke.
‘You will give me satisfaction? You have insulted me, personally, now.’
‘I guarantee it. You have my word. You may kill me at your convenience.’
‘I shall do it, Lieutenant.’
‘Oh, I expect it, Captain.’
Deighnton went to a drawer in the desk and took out a sheet of paper, pen and ink. He sat down for a few minutes and wrote in silence. When finished he blew on the page and waved it in the air, before turning it round and offering Jack the pen.
‘I’m releasing the prisoner to you. He’s your responsibility now. You may have to answer for this action later.’
‘I shall be happy to.’ Jack read the paper through and signed it.
‘Sergeant?’ snapped Deighnton. ‘Go with the lieutenant and release the prisoner into his custody.’
‘Which prisoner would that be, sir?’ asked the NCO.
‘The one he damn well points out to you, man.’
‘Yes, sir. Right away, sir.’
Jack followed the sergeant outside. King and Gwilliams were sitting with their backs against a benign camel who had folded its legs under itself for the night. They rose to greet their officer. Soon the chains had been removed from Ishwar Raktambar and he was walking free. To say that Ishwar was relieved was an understatement. Waiting to be hanged is an experience that leaves a man limp with horror. It would be a long time before the images in the Rajput’s head were driven away. It would be quite a time before the rhythms of the living returned to him. For the moment he was still caught in the meshes of a nightmare.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Crossman.
‘An elephant has just got off my chest.’
‘I must ask you to think of the boy now.’
When dawn arrived, Raktambar led Crossman, King and Gwilliams to a small village to the west of Delhi. There, they entered a hut and found Sajan sleeping in the midst of a ragged group of Hindus. The men in the hut rose wearily at the sight of a British officer and NCOs, suspecting they were to be taken into custody. Crossman ignored them. King took Sajan by the hand and led him out of the hut. Sajan did not complain, nor even say very much, except to ask where they were going. King told him, ‘To Ibhanan.’
Equipped and ready for a new expedition to beyond Peshawar, Crossman’s peloton rode first to the area where Ibhanan and the other surveyor’s men were encamped. Ibhanan was to retain the men on half pay until Sergeant King sent for them. They were to look after the boy, who had promised never to run away again.
King asked Sajan. ‘Where is the sun compass you took?’
‘A man stole it from me.’
‘You didn’t sell it?’
‘I would never sell it, sahib. I was keeping it for when I become a grown man. I am to be a surveyor, am I not?’
‘Yet you wanted to be a rebel, too?’
Sajan hung his head. ‘I am sorry.’
He was, after all, only eight years old.
King took him by the shoulders. ‘You must not run away again. You understand. I – I will be a father to you, if you stay.’
Sajan looked up, his eyes wide with wonderment.
‘You will be my father?’
‘Yes, if you wish it.’
‘Oh, sahib,’ the boy hugged his leg and King looked around him in embarrassment. ‘I am your son.’
Crossman, Raktambar, King and Gwilliams left the crew and began their journey.
Gwilliams asked King, ‘You still think you’re the boy’s pappy?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied King, fiercely, ‘and, Corporal, I don’t really care.’
‘Suit yourself, Sergeant.’ Gwilliams spat neatly between the ears of his horse to hit a stone in front. ‘I couldn’t give a damn neither.’
A majestic elephant with a howdah then passed them by and they all halted their mounts to watch it, every man amongst them wondering whether the Reverend Stillwell was behind those silk curtains.
The road to Peshawar was long. They were still living in dangerous times and had to be constantly wary. With some minor trials – minor after what they had been through in the past few weeks – they reached their destination. Crossman reported to a Major Bentley as soon as they arrived and told the major they were on their way north. The major knew who he was and offered him and his men quarters while they were in the city. The four of them stayed in Peshawar for the next three days, assessing the situation, preparing for the ride towards the border.
It was a time for relaxing and catching up with letters. Jack reread his mail from his wife, feeling a little guilty that he had almost strayed from the path, but at the same time pleased with himself that it had actually come to nothing. He was slightly aggrieved, however, that in replying to one question asked by Jane, he had to report that he had not yet seen a tiger.
They are hiding from me, he wrote, like mischievous devils.
Raktambar gradually came back into the land of the quick.
King lay on his cot and thought about many things: some of them to do with brass instruments and coloured inks on parchment; others concerning the solemn duties of fatherhood. Somet
imes his dreams combined both, and he and Sajan were wandering Nepal or Chinese Tibet as mapmakers.
Gwilliams spent his time sharpening his knife and his sword, and cleaning his carbine.
On his second day in Peshawar Crossman saw Arihant in a coffee house. He shot him dead.
Brothers of the Blade Page 36