A Good Soldier

by Richard Townsend Bickers

  “Don’t forget I’m already committed and under some obligation.”

  “Anything I propose will benefit MacLean in the long run. Now, see here, to start with I know that the British Government is borrowing money from the native rulers and paying five per cent interest. Now, I could offer six or six and a half per cent. But my bank isn’t looking to borrow money, we want to invest it. If you and I find the best ways of doing that, the Nawabs and the Rajas will grow richer and they’ll be able to lend more money to your Government. What d’you think of that?”

  “If they already have enough money to lend Government, why would they want to borrow any from you?”

  “Some of the landowners who pay taxes to the Nawab don’t have enough money to make their land as productive as it could be. And outside Zafarala there are many poor states whose Rajas could use money to increase their areas of cultivation.”

  “I’d better explain how taxes are levied and collected. You’re going to run into trouble immediately with the revenue-farmers, the landowners and the Nawab himself. And with the Dewan, although if we can get him on our side we’ll have the strongest possible ally.”

  “Are you telling me everybody is going to oppose a plan to help them all? Why would the Nawab object? Doesn’t he depend on the tax system for most of his revenue?”

  “The point is that there is no system. It’s arbitrary and haphazard and it leads to more bloodshed than any other source of grievance, including family rows and unfaithful wives. It’s much the same in all the native states, but the situation in Zafarala is probably the worst. I knew that before I came here and Neville Thorn has been telling me more about it. Tax is collected by the revenue-farmers, the chakledar, and that’s where the trouble is rooted: because they get no pay. They have to produce a certain sum every year for the Nawab and they earn their living by extorting as much above that as they can, and keeping the difference for themselves.”

  “There’s no scale of what the revenue-farmers can charge, according to a guy’s income or the size of his property?”

  “None at all.”

  “Whom do the chakledars get the tax from?”

  “The big landowners, the taluqdar. They own large tracts of land, including several villages. The taluqdar are all-powerful in their own domains, and thoroughly tyrannical: like mediaeval robber barons. They in turn take tribute from the zamindar, who correspond to the British yeomen. A zamindar will own twenty or thirty acres, which he rents out to the poor devils who work the land. And he charges whatever rent for the year he sees fit and he can also take a plot of land away from one tenant and rent it to another, just as he pleases.”

  “No security of tenure or of rent.”

  “Exactly. And all the way up the ladder force is used, if necessary, to extort money. The chakledar go around accompanied by a detachment of the Nawab’s Army: including, I might say, artillery; because sometimes the big landowners, the taluqdar, have private armies and the revenue-farmers have to lay siege to them before they will pay up. In the same way, the taluqdar turn their armed bullies loose on any zamindar who can’t or won’t pay his dues. And a zamindar, of course, if a wretched tenant can’t meet his demands, either has him thrashed or simply takes his small land-holding away from him; whereupon he and his family starve.”

  “Iniquitous. And you mean to tell me the Nawab just lets it go on?”

  “It has been going on for centuries. Even a decent old fellow like the Dewan accepts it. It’s the Indian mentality: a kind of complete hopelessness in the face of any difficulty. Floods, famine, sickness, accidents, death: they accept them all without making any effort to prevent them or cure them. They look on it as their fate, inevitable, Hindus and Muslims alike.”

  “Incredible.”

  “All too credible, I am afraid.”

  “Are you telling me that if my bank lends money to the taluqdars or the zamindars, the revenue-farmers will extort all the extra money they’ll be able to earn?”

  “Yes. At least that much. They’ll probably demand even more, because they’ll make their own assessments of how much more has been earned.”

  “Then the way to prevent that seems to be to convince the Nawab that the revenue-farmers are making too much for themselves.”

  “That wouldn’t help. The Nawab would simply make them hand over more to him. The only way I see is to persuade the Dewan that a given investment in the land will produce a given increase of produce; and that if the Nawab will accept that, he will get the greatest benefit, provided he doesn’t let the revenue-farmers squeeze the producers so hard that it’s not worth their while to improve their crops.”

  “It might be best to select just one crop for development. The food crops, rice, barley and wheat, are for the consumption of the landowners and the growers. Cotton and opium are the two crops with commercial potential; and of those, opium is much the more lucrative. Also, the quality of the opium here is poor and gives the most room for improvement.”

  “Government would certainly support that. And from my point of view, and for what MacLean hopes to get from Zafarala, there are the industries, which are better worth investing in: if they aren’t sucked dry by the tax-collectors. For instance, look at the crude way in which they manufacture gunpowder here, and firearms. Then there are cotton-weaving, making paper, glass, dyes, sugar, salt, saltpetre, soda. Two or three of those should be worth developing.”

  “Why, sure: that is what I had in mind when I came here. You surely know that huge fortunes have been made by cultivating indigo and producing dyes. There’s a worldwide demand for cotton, glass and paper: provided the quality is good enough.”

  “Nothing in the East can be done in a hurry. First of all we’ve got to establish the best possible relations with the Nawab and the Dewan. I have already made a little progress. Equally important, we need accurate intelligence about what is really going on. There’s so much intrigue and there are so many opposing factions and so many rumours, that the reality of what is going to happen here is obscured. It’s all too easy to back the wrong horse. You, or MacLean, could invest a lot of money here and lose it all if we misinterpret events and information. There could be another war with Karampur, for instance, which could have numerous consequences, some of which would set back any useful investment here for several years. The Nawab or the Dewan might suddenly die a natural death or be murdered. The British Government might intervene here for any number of reasons. Even supporting the Resident in his hopes of setting up a hospital here could be a mistake. Everything depends on accurate intelligence. Everyone, the Nawab, the Dewan, the Resident, his assistants, everyone has informers all over the place. Some of them report sheer nonsense, of course, but among all the rubbish there is a lot of valuable information. I’ve got to make sure that my information is reliable.”

  “I am sure you know how to do that as well as anyone, Hugh.”

  “It will take time. I am an obvious object of suspicion myself.”

  “You?”

  “Certainly. Everybody knows who my grandfather was and who my father is and that I was in the Bengal Army. They know that my regiment got itself into trouble: which gave me an excellent ostensible reason for leaving the Service: a perfect subterfuge if in fact I’m here as a Government or military spy.”

  “I wonder what they suspect me of?”

  “I shall know soon enough. One thing I can tell you is that your being an American means nothing to an Indian. All people with white skins are ‘Europeans’ and all foreign countries are just one and the same place somewhere over the Black Water. They have no idea where France or Portugal is, for instance. As far as they’re concerned, both are part of England!”

  “Well, I guess there are a lot of folk in America who couldn’t draw a map of Europe: even though their grandparents came from there. Something you said just now: d’you think it’s likely that someone would murder the Nawab or the Dewan?”

  “Palace murder is a good old Indian custom.”

&n
bsp; “What would happen if the Nawab died or was killed?”

  “I would not give much for the life of the Nawabzada. There’s another claimant to the throne. Legally he isn’t the Nawab’s successor, but he has powerful support and if the Nawab were murdered it’s probable that his eldest son would be killed at the same time.”

  “From what I hear, that would be a small loss to the human race.

  “He’s a vicious little beast.”

  “How come there’s another claimant to the throne?”

  “It is a matter of Muslim law. If an elder brother predeceases his younger brothers, his children lose their precedence in line for the inheritance. The present Nawab had an older brother, whose son is older than the Nawabzada. But the elder brother died a year before the old Nawab did. It’s generally believed that the present Nawab had him poisoned. They’re very free with the arsenic in these parts and poisoning is the most usual form of murder.”

  “Where is the claimant?”

  “Oh, he is the biggest of the landowners and he insists that he is exempted from paying all taxes. The Nawab lets him get away with it and, on the surface anyway, maintains a friendly relationship with him. If he did try to get any taxes out of him there would be the danger of a rebellion or civil war. His nephew, the pretender to the throne, keeps a large force of armed retainers and he is popular.”

  “What is his name?”

  “He is my childhood friend of whom I told you, Ghulam Kasim.”

  “Is his home here in Nekshahr?”

  “His estates are a few miles west of here.”

  “You knew him as a boy. What sort of man has he grown up to be?”

  “My father spoke well of him. He said he would make a better ruler, even when he was seventeen or eighteen years old, than the present Nawab.”

  “Has the Nawab no younger sons who would take the Nawabzada’s place if both of them were gotten rid of?”

  “Again it is a matter of Muslim law. You know there are two Muslim sects, the Shia and Sunni?”

  “No, I did not know that.”

  “They have various differences in the way they interpret their religion: much the same as Protestants and Roman Catholics, or the Church of England and the Baptists or Methodists. The Shia admit two forms of marriage, the so-called right-handed and left-handed, known as nikha and muta. A nikha marriage is a serious matter and meant to be permanent. Like all Muslim marriages it can easily be ended by divorce, of course. A muta marriage, a left-handed marriage, is a temporary affair for a fixed period and gives the wife no claim on her husband’s property when he dies. However, the children of muta marriages are legitimate and they can inherit their fathers’ property. Muta marriages are rare among high-class Mahommedans, but the present Nawab has had two muta wives and both bore him sons. So, in theory, the elder of those would inherit if the Nawabzada died childless. But the mullahs and the Sunni sect abominate muta marriages and there would be violent opposition to a son of one becoming Heir Apparent or Nawab. There would be violent opposition from the Nawab’s family, who find muta marriages shocking. Not only because Mahommed condemned them — he called a left-handed marriage “the sister of harlotry” — but also because it offends their high-class code. And, of course, they are devout Sunni. They feel the Nawab has betrayed his class and his religion by his muta marriages. One was even to a Hindu woman, which is particularly abhorrent to his family and the mullahs. Naturally the Nawab is a Sunni by birth and upbringing; but, unlike his older brother and their father, he is irreligious.”

  “So Ghulam Kasim, the Nawab’s nephew, would have a good chance of grabbing the throne if the Nawab and the Nawabzada were both disposed of at the same time?”

  “If Ghulam Kasim decided to seize power, I believe he would succeed. It wouldn’t surprise me if he ousts the Nawabzada when the Nawab dies; if the Nawabzada is still alive! Ghulam Kasim is a staunch Sunni, so he is well in favour with the ruling family and the mullahs.”

  “American politics are getting to be mighty complicated, but it seems to me they are a children’s game compared with what goes on here. Surely all you have told me must put you in a very strong position for the future? You are a boyhood friend of Ghulam Kasim, who, it seems obvious, would make a much better ruler than either the Nawab or the Nawabzada. And he is sure of the support of the ruling family, the religious leaders and, you said, popular opinion.”

  “That is true enough. And from what I have heard, and the little I have seen, of the Nawabzada, he is a poor creature and would make as bad a ruler as his father.”

  “Have you seen Ghulam Kasim since you came here?”

  “I have deliberately avoided it until I could have my first audience with the Nawab. Otherwise I would have aroused the suspicion of the Nawab and the Dewan. Word that I had been to see Ghulam Kasim would have spread like wildfire. For the same reason, I am sure, Ghulam Kasim has not been to see me.”

  “Do you intend to go on ignoring him? Do you think he will continue to ignore your presence?”

  “No. I intend to renew the friendship as soon as it is discreet to do so; and I feel sure he has the same intention.”

  “Could you not meet in secret now?”

  “There are eyes, ears, informers everywhere. The palace would hear of it immediately.”

  “Shall I go and call on him?”

  “You would be instantly suspected of intriguing against the Nawab, just as I would. That would be more than embarrassing to our prospects of growing rich here, it could be fatal: literally. Never forget that the Nawab has absolute power.”

  “The British Resident...”

  “Could not save either of us from anything the Nawab decided to do. The Resident has no power at all. He cannot even protect a British citizen. And I do not suppose he would want to, if I were ordered to leave the state or jailed for conspiracy. You could not expect him even to spare you a thought, as an American citizen. But, as I say, I do not think the Nawab would punish either of us by mere banishment or imprisonment: and the British Resident cannot restore dead men to life!”

  Whittaker looked dubious. “Would the Nawab really act so drastically?”

  “You are very difficult to convince. Let me tell you what he did to the two survivors of the three cavalrymen who allowed that damned horse to escape. The horse had killed one in getting free. I was forced to watch it, with my own eyes.”

  Ramsey recounted the cruel execution of the dafadar and the trooper. Whittaker listened, stony-faced.

  “He could hardly do the same to us.”

  “Poison... a knife... a musket ball in the dark while one is sitting on the veranda after dinner... or we could just vanish one night in our sleep.”

  “Oh, come now, Hugh.”

  “It is not difficult for armed men to overpower a chaukidar and pankha quli without making a noise.”

  “If they came for me, they’d disturb Constance.”

  “What makes you think she would be spared? Or Ruth?”

  “And there is really nothing that could be done about it?”

  “Not a thing. The Resident might have strong suspicions, but he would have no proof. There is only one effective form of action: sending in troops. One obscure retired lieutenant and one American family would not justify that. The Resident would not even ask for it unless Government were looking for an excuse to take control here: which it is not.”

  “Well, you are the expert. I bow to your superior knowledge. But I hope we do not have to wait for months before we can start to do business here.”

  “Not months, but certainly weeks. Developments on the Karampur frontier are the key to the whole matter. I intend to go there as soon as possible, to find out for myself what the atmosphere is like and what is really happening: and going to happen.”

  “How soon will that be?”

  “Not yet, I fear. I must mark time a week or two longer.”

  “I understand. And now I think my wife and daughter are going to complain that I am monopolisin
g our first guest, if we do not rejoin them.”

  During the rest of the evening, while his hosts told Ramsey about America and he talked to them about England, it occurred to him that he had never been so quickly drawn towards strangers. The truth was, he told himself, that they had drawn him to them, into their friendship. The prejudices and hesitations which usually separated strangers had vanished.

  There had been times, since the night of the mutiny in Barrackpore, when he had suffered from a sense of desolation. He had exchanged a way of life in which he had not been required to prove anything more about himself than courage and leadership, for what might turn out to be a disordered and wandering existence in which success would always elude him. He despised self-pity and he blamed no one but himself, but he had been for many weeks subjected to isolation, doubt and confusion. His anxieties had been alleviated only by Shakuntala’s warmth and concern and her intuitive delicately sensual way of shutting out the harsh real world.

  This evening with these new and quickly-made friends from the New World was giving him a fresh confidence and consolation, a belief that the inexhaustible cunning of India —whose vastness obviously did not intimidate them — could not defeat their combined resources, good sense and determination. Their attitude reduced the vagaries and endless machinations of the Nawab and his creatures, his enemies and his manipulators, to mere ordinary human behaviour.

  And Ruth, he noticed, although she maintained her coolness and detachment, did so with occasional lapses. He had seen an invitation to closer friendship underlying the steady air of independence which attracted him.

  These thoughts filled his mind while he walked home through the hot, starlit night. He felt calmer than he had for many days. When he had parted from Shakuntala, it was with a glowing physical peacefulness, but his mind had been full of jumbled thoughts and feelings.

  An owl darted from the Sadhu’s deodar tree and flapped low across the road. He felt the disturbed air brush his face and saw the ponderous dark shape pass within touching distance.