The War of the Grail

by Geoffrey Wilson

  Jack took a deep breath. ‘How far away are you Sikhs from finding out the design of the yantra?’

  Kanvar looked up. ‘It will still be some time, I’m afraid. We have made much progress, and I have transferred all the information from Takhat’s map to my own. But still, even with the centre now identified, it will take weeks at the very least, I would think.’

  ‘We haven’t got weeks.’

  ‘Indeed. And in any case, I have to say, there is little chance of me ever being shown the design now.’

  ‘Now that you’ve been cast out of your order?’

  Kanvar nodded solemnly. ‘If Takhat and the others discover the design, they will hardly come to find me to show it to me.’

  ‘We’re on our own. It’s just us, up here on this hill.’

  ‘It seems so.’

  Jack rubbed his face. ‘Then we’ll just have to do our best and fight with what we’ve got.’

  Jack finally found Sonali standing alone on the outer wall of the fortress. She was leaning against the parapet and staring out into the pitch-black night. She looked serious and thoughtful – the way she’d appeared when he’d first met her in Mahajan’s castle.

  ‘It’s cold,’ he said.

  She nodded and hugged her shawl closer.

  He leant against the battlements beside her and gazed into the darkness. A wide arc of campfires twinkled in the distance. They seemed to float like stars in the void.

  ‘There are so many of them,’ she said softly.

  Jack nodded. More Welsh had arrived as dusk had turned into night, and there were now perhaps three thousand men encircling the hill. The Welsh had made camp out of range of the rebels’ guns and, with no artillery of their own, they seemed to have decided to keep their distance for the time being.

  Jack cleared his throat. ‘Look, sorry if I was … cold when you first came back.’

  Sonali kept her eyes locked on the lights. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were pleased to see me.’

  ‘Of course I was. It was just a shock seeing the village destroyed.’

  She nodded but stayed silent.

  ‘Thank you,’ he continued. ‘For everything you’ve done. You didn’t have to come all the way here. You didn’t have to help me find Elizabeth. You didn’t have to come back for me at all.’

  ‘Of course I had to come back.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘I had to give you this.’ She drew something out of the folds of her sari and opened her hand to reveal two paans wrapped in gleaming gold leaf.

  Jack gave her a warm smile. He’d missed paan since living in Shropshire. Tobacco of any sort had been in short supply in the years after the First Crusade, and paan had never been common in the native state. But he’d chewed it often when he was in the army, as did many others who lived in the Rajthanan-controlled lands. He remembered he’d complained to Sonali several times that there was none available in Clun.

  He took one of the small packages and turned it around in his fingers. ‘Never had any this fancy.’

  ‘It’s real gold. I took it from my aunt’s house.’

  ‘Real gold? Your aunt must be rich.’

  ‘She married a wealthy man.’

  ‘Lucky her.’

  Sonali smiled slightly. ‘She’s been very good to me. She’s the only one in my family who stuck by me when I ran away … But never mind that. Have your paan.’

  Sonali popped her packet into her mouth. Jack did the same, biting through the betel leaf and into the sharp mixture of spices and tobacco within. The taste was luxurious. He munched slowly, enjoying the sensation.

  ‘You bring any more of this?’ he asked.

  ‘I might have one or two pieces left.’ She smiled mysteriously.

  They chewed in silence for a few more minutes, then Sonali turned and discreetly spat her paan out over the parapet.

  When she faced Jack again, her expression was more sombre. ‘You know, you must talk with the rebel leaders about what Rao said.’

  ‘Rao’s treaty?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jack chewed the paan. ‘Henry’s in charge here. I don’t think he’s going to listen to me.’

  ‘I thought the Earl of Shropshire was your true leader?’

  ‘He is. But he’s an old man. Frail, they say. Henry’s been given command of the fortress.’

  ‘But still, you must try.’ She gazed out at the throbbing lights again. ‘It is our only hope.’

  Jack turned away and spat out the paan. ‘This story of Rao’s. It’s a bit hard to believe.’

  Sonali frowned. ‘Why would he lie?’

  ‘Maybe there’s some mistake. A misunderstanding.’

  ‘Rao seemed very certain about this. When I got to my aunt’s house, there was already a letter from him waiting for me. He said he was coming to Dorsetshire to find me. When he got there, he was very excited. He told me the Maharaja was close to offering the treaty.’ She stared straight at Jack. ‘Rao is from a powerful clan. His father has connections in high places. This is not a fantasy. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘You could be right. But still, Rao wants us to lay down our arms. I doubt I can talk anyone into doing that. I’m not sure it’s a good idea myself.’ He gestured to the distant army. ‘Those Welsh won’t know anything about a treaty. All they’ll know is that they’re here to kill us. If we surrender, they’ll probably still kill us.’

  ‘Some Rajthanans must come soon. Some officers. We could talk to them. Reason with them.’

  Jack snorted. ‘We could try. Don’t know how far we’ll get.’

  ‘We must do something. To stop the bloodshed.’

  He stared into the distance. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Rao’s story seemed incredible, unbelievable to Jack. But Sonali seemed convinced by it – and there was no reason for Rao to lie. It was true that the Rajthanans would be keen to end the war in England if there were a risk of further uprisings in the rest of Europe.

  Perhaps it could be true. Perhaps it could be a way out.

  But he didn’t want to hope too much.

  He heard the sound of singing, drums and lutes sailing up from behind him. He tore himself away from his thoughts, turned and looked back down into the fortress. Sonali did the same, shivering slightly at the cold wind whipping across the hilltop.

  Below them, the ruins were a tangled maze, almost invisible in the dark. Jack could see traces of walls, roofs, courtyards and broken minarets. Hundreds of campfires adorned the fort like scattered jewels.

  The sound of drums and lutes grew louder.

  ‘It’s strange to hear the music,’ Sonali said.

  ‘It keeps the people’s spirits up.’

  ‘It’s beautiful in a way. That they can sing and make music even now.’

  Jack nodded. He was proud of his people at that moment. Proud of the fact that they were still determined to keep the dream of a free England alive.

  The wind blew stronger, the cold pressing through Jack’s tunic all the way to his skin. ‘We should get back. We should eat.’

  Sonali’s eyes strayed down and she nodded slowly. As she turned to walk back with him, her foot slipped on a loose stone and she fell against him, giving a little yelp. He caught her – although there was no need, as she’d already steadied herself. But then both of them froze. She was pressed against him, and he could feel her chest rising and falling. Her face was close to his. He smelt the heady scent of her perfume.

  He leant forward slightly. She leant forward a little. Their lips were close and they were about to kiss.

  But then she pulled away, frowned and pattered down the stairs.

  The fleeting moment they’d had together evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.

  ‘Come quickly.’ Saleem tugged at Jack’s sleeve.

  ‘What is it?’ Jack asked.

  ‘The army are here.’

  Jack’s skin rippled. Christ. Already.

  He followed Saleem round the shattered buildings and across to the vast east wall
. He saw many people moving forward, like him, to see what was happening. Most of them had nervous looks on their faces.

  It was a clear morning and the sun beat down on the ruins. Jack’s legs felt stiff – he’d slept uncomfortably on the hard earth. He’d also continually woken during the night, thinking there were enemies prowling nearby in the dark.

  He and Saleem reached a hole where the wall had collapsed long ago, but the area was already crowded with crusaders looking out. Saleem led the way over to a bastion tower, where he and Jack clambered up the stairs all the way to the walkway along the top of the wall.

  A bustling crowd, including a contingent of Mohammedans, had already gathered on the ramparts. At first, Jack saw nowhere to stand. But then he spotted Kanvar waving to him. The Sikh – along with Sonali, Mark and several apprentices – had taken up a position on the wall. Jack and Saleem pressed themselves in amongst the group and peered out over the battlements.

  The Welsh forces still surrounded the fortress. Jack could see them spread out across the plains and the closer hills. But now a column of what appeared to be reinforcements – men and animals – was marching from the open ground to the north-east.

  Jack took the spyglass from Kanvar and studied the approaching figures.

  It was the army – the European Army.

  At the head of the column, riding five abreast, were European cavalrymen. They carried their lances pointing up at the sky, the steel tips glinting and the pennons twisting in the breeze. Behind them strode European foot soldiers in blue tunics, cloth hats and puttees. Rajthanan officers rode alongside their men, their turbans either silver or green, indicating Andalusian or French regiments respectively.

  Next came horses drawing light artillery carriages, and then teams of elephants strung together with chains and hauling large siege guns. Further back lumbered more elephants with armour on their heads, spikes on their tusks and standards jutting from their backs.

  Finally, the ramshackle line of the baggage train and the camp followers snaked across the countryside. The motley collection of men, carts and animals seemed to roll endlessly into the distance.

  ‘How many men, do you think?’ Saleem said softly.

  Jack lowered the glass. ‘Four thousand, perhaps.’

  ‘It is not Vadula’s army in that case,’ Kanvar said.

  ‘No.’ Jack nodded. ‘They are too few.’

  But it was still a large enough force. The crusaders now faced a combined army of around seven thousand men. There were only two thousand people in the fortress and Jack knew many of them were too old, young or weak to fight.

  The mournful wail of an army horn sailed across on the breeze. Jack lifted the glass again and saw that the column had come to a halt. A solitary elephant ambled forward. A glittering covered howdah swayed on the animal’s back and a mahout sat astride its neck. Two soldiers strode in front of the beast, blowing horns moulded into the shape of conches. At the back of the party, a rider beat time on a pair of kettledrums strapped to his horse.

  The elephant reached the front of the column and the mahout drove his crook into its head to command it to stop.

  The howdah glimmered in the sunlight. The drapes and tassels hanging over it swung in the wind.

  The elephant knelt and all the troops nearby suddenly dropped to the ground and prostrated themselves. A soldier rushed across to the beast and placed a small ladder against it.

  A hand emerged from the howdah and swept the curtains to one side. Then a figure climbed out. He was wearing the ordinary uniform of a European Army officer, but his tunic was festooned with silver braiding and embroidery, and his turban was a blaze of intersecting gold bands.

  The man was a general. A senapati in Rajthani.

  The figure stepped slowly to the ground, put his hands on his hips and turned to gaze up at the fortress.

  Jack felt strangely dizzy, as if he were looking at a ghost.

  It was Jhala.

  20

  Jack let out a small hiss and lowered the glass.

  Sonali frowned at him. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ he muttered. But there was a storm in his head now. His fingers gripped the glass so tightly he thought it might break.

  Jhala. Why did it have to be Jhala who was sent to crush the rebellion?

  And yet, wasn’t it also inevitable? Ever since Jack had learnt that his old commander was still alive and leading the forces in Worcestershire, he’d somehow known it would come to this.

  It was always going to be Jhala.

  ‘What’s that?’ Saleem pointed across the plains.

  Jack squinted and saw five riders on caparisoned horses emerge from the mass of troops. One of them was carrying a white flag.

  ‘They want to talk,’ Jack said. It was standard practice to at least make the offer of a truce before a siege. But it was unlikely the terms would be anything the crusaders could accept.

  Sonali put her hand on Jack’s arm. ‘You could talk to them.’

  Jack frowned. ‘Me?’

  ‘About what Rao said.’

  Jack went silent. Kanvar, Saleem and the others were looking at him now, obviously wondering what he and Sonali were discussing. Other crusaders were watching as well. This wasn’t the place to talk about the treaty – especially as Kanvar was unlikely to be happy about any deal with the Rajthanans.

  ‘Down there.’ Jack nodded towards the bottom of the wall.

  He set off along the walkway and then headed down the stairs, Sonali pattering after him in her red slippers. They walked together into the ruins and paused beside a line of weathered pillars.

  Sonali took his arm again. ‘Now is your chance. Surrender, and the rebels will be spared. Then, when the treaty is ready, you’ll be free.’

  Jack sucked on his teeth. ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘It could be. If you want it to be.’

  Jack sighed. ‘I’m not sure the Rajthanans will spare us – even if we surrender. Not all of us, at any rate.’

  ‘But the treaty—’

  ‘Those Rajthanans might not know about a treaty. And in any case, there is no treaty yet. There might never be.’

  Sonali’s brow knitted. ‘We can trust the officers. They will do the honourable thing, surely.’

  Jack looked up at the wall. ‘I used to think that. Now I think differently. You didn’t see what happened during the First Crusade.’

  Sonali was silent for a moment. ‘I only ask that you try. What harm can it do for you to speak to the officers? There is nothing to lose.’

  Jack ran his fingers through his hair. Sonali was making some sense. The rebels were in a desperate situation. Two thousand people could die. If there were any chance of him preventing that, he had to act.

  ‘There is one thing,’ he said. ‘The general down there – it’s Jhala himself.’

  ‘General Jhala is leading the troops?’

  ‘Aye. And the thing is, he’s my old captain. And my guru.’

  Sonali’s eyes widened. ‘General Jhala was your guru?’

  Jack nodded.

  She gripped his arm more tightly. ‘Then you must talk to him. Convince him to spare your people.’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Please. You must try.’

  Jack rubbed his forehead. There was so much to think about and so little time. Was there really any point in him trying to talk to Jhala? Would that really make any difference? Would Jhala be more lenient with the rebels just because Jack was amongst them? That seemed unlikely.

  And yet, as Sonali had said, what did he have to lose by trying? He couldn’t make the rebels’ situation any worse.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  He marched back to the wall and headed towards the gate. Sonali scurried beside him, trying her best to keep up.

  Henry was standing beside the gatehouse, just as Jack had expected. The constable was talking to three heralds on horseback, who were evidently pre
paring to ride out to meet the enemy. One of the men carried a pole with a piece of white linen tied to it.

  Jack strode across to the entryway. ‘Henry!’

  Henry paused, then turned slowly. He narrowed his eyes and looked Jack up and down. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Let me go out there. I’ll talk to the enemy.’

  Henry’s face twisted. ‘Send you out there? So you can betray us?’ He waved his hand, as if brushing away a fly. ‘Leave.’ He turned back to the riders.

  ‘I know the general down there.’ Jack stepped closer. ‘I might be able to reason with him.’

  Henry spun round, his eyes glinting. ‘I told you to leave. I’ve no time for this.’

  ‘If you’d just let me—’

  Henry roared and drew his pistol from his belt. He pointed the weapon at Jack’s chest. ‘Leave, before I shoot you.’

  Jack’s heart beat faster. He’d known this would be a difficult conversation, but he hadn’t expected this.

  He searched Henry’s face. The constable was enraged, his cheeks bright red. Jack wasn’t going to get any sense out of him. There was no point trying to talk about it further.

  Jack raised his hands and stepped backwards. ‘All right, I’m leaving.’

  He walked back to Sonali. Her lips were bunched and a deep frown cut into her forehead.

  ‘Is there some other way you can get a message to your guru?’ she asked.

  ‘Not easily,’ Jack said.

  ‘There must be something you can do.’

  Jack rubbed his chin, his mind racing through various options. ‘There is one thing I could try.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come with me. I’ll show you.’

  The Earl of Shropshire had set up residence in a ruined palace not far from the east wall of the fortress. It must once have been a grand building, adorned with turrets and domes, but now it was a pile of weathered masonry. The stonework was porous with age and mottled with lichens. The intricate geometrical designs that would have encrusted the walls had long ago worn down to vague lines and bulges.

  Jack stood with Sonali before what was left of the arched, Moorish entrance. Two men-at-arms stood guard outside.