As the weeks passed I began to relax and feel more comfortable as all the news we received of the wider world was positive from my perspective. In April the British advanced to a place called Poona, which was where the exiled peshwa, nominal ruler of the Mahratta, had his throne. The Mahrattas had planned to burn the city before they abandoned it, but the British captured it intact in a surprise attack. By May the peshwa was back in his palace and firmly under British influence. Of course the real Mahratta power still lay with the warlords and they were still confident that they could drive the British back. The British marched out of Poona in June and Mahratta armies gathered menacingly on the nizam of Hyderabad’s frontier as negotiations continued, but it was not until early August that war was finally declared.
Throughout that time I saw little of the begum, who was busy ruling her lands, preparing her army and travelling to see other princes. She would invite me occasionally to join her for dinner and sometimes she would ask me to join her for mass on Sundays. I had mentioned my Spanish mother and so she assumed that I was a Catholic. Given the broad lexicon of religions she had already, I did not have the heart to mention I was Church of England. In fact I saw her once leaving a Hindu celebration and took the opportunity to ask what her true faith was if she had to choose one. She just smiled and said, “Sardhana, Thomas. I will worship any god for my people of Sardhana.” It was a typically ambiguous begum answer, but she certainly took her Catholicism seriously judging from the time she spent at mass and with her priest, who incidentally was called Julius Caesar! Later she built a huge Catholic basilica. Some accused of her of being a Catholic to win favour with the British, and it certainly helped her do this, but to be fair to her she was baptised in 1781, long before the British had influence near her lands.
In August, following the declaration of war everything seemed to change. The British moved swiftly to Scindia’s great hill fortress of Ahmednuggur. It was one of the strongest bastions in India and right on the frontier of the nizam of Hyderabad’s lands. After a four-day cannonade the garrison surrendered. I was delighted: if this was a sign of the resistance that the Mahratta could put up then I naively thought that they would be beaten easily after all. At the same time we heard that some British officers in Scindia’s army had refused to fight the British and consequently all of them, including Skinner, had been expelled. Scindia was now marshalling his force to resist invasion from the British and this included the begum’s regiments. We were ordered to march south and so, wearing a new uniform of the begum’s army, I rode reluctantly to war.
This time the cavalry sowars were constantly on hand as I rode as part of the begum’s personal escort. She went to war on horseback, leaving her carriage behind, and slept in her tent each night, served by a couple of her ladies. The veterans marched in the vanguard of our force while the new recruits brought up the rear, doing little more than guarding the baggage.
Scindia’s army was well spread out as it marched and to some extent we lived off the land we passed through to supplement the supplies we carried. Consequently we rarely saw other Mahratta units. They had been preparing for this march for months, and even though we were just a small part of the army, our column of men and supplies stretched back for miles. As well as the infantry and their supplies there were the great guns, which were pulled by elephants or oxen. For each gun there was a further caravan of wagons containing powder and shot. There were also traders called bhinjarries travelling with the army who sold food, drink and other supplies, even women, to the men as they marched.
I had mixed feelings about going to war. Of course I would not be expected to fight, but my fate very much depended on the outcome. Scindia himself was up ahead, leading a great swarm of cavalry, and word was that he lived in a huge tent palace that was kept apart from his soldiers. The chances were that I would not run into to him to remind him of my existence, but I had reverted to a growing a full beard to fit in with some of the native officers and hide my face. I knew that Scindia’s officers were demoralised and that they had surrendered quickly at Ahmednuggur. But the begum had not been there and her soldiers did not look they would give up as easily. I wondered often if she really would hand me over to Scindia if the British were beaten. While I think she liked me and thought I would be useful if the British remained a force in the field, she ruthlessly protected her interests. If she was prepared to bury servant girls alive to protect her lands, then it would be rockets for poor Flashy without a moment’s hesitation.
My hope was that Scindia had forgotten about me in recent months or that the British would either win or remain a force to be reckoned with. They had split their forces into two, which seemed reckless while they were heavily outnumbered by the Mahratta. Arthur Wellesley commanded the largest column and the other was commanded by a Colonel Stevenson. The guides for both columns seemed to be Mahratta men as we had reports not only on where the British were, but the routes they were taking next.
It took over a month to march south. The begum had five battalions in her army, totalling nearly five thousand men, supported by a dozen cannon.. But with men leading the various oxen teams, camp followers and the bhinjarries the number on the move was closer to seven thousand. Some sporadic monsoon rains had started again which made the few roads muddy and difficult to move the guns along, but we made good progress. Other Mahratta forces had been shadowing the British for some time, but it was past mid September when we finally caught up with the main body. I was relieved to discover that Scindia had got frustrated leading his cavalry and, being unable to bring the British to battle, he and the raja of Berar had withdrawn to one of their palaces. After Perron’s departure the army was now being commanded by a genial Hanoverian called Anthony Pohlmann whom I had met before when with Skinner.
Pohlmann was a shrewd and experienced commander, and it seemed to me that he had been waiting for Scindia to depart before he planned the destruction of the British. As soon as the ruler had gone he started to gather the army into one place while he launched plans to lure the British into a trap. We had received word that the two British columns had met at Budnappor on the twenty-first of September and the British had received intelligence that the main Mahratta army was at a place called Borkardan. It wasn’t; presumably this was misinformation from an agent of Pohlmann, who seemed to be leading the British a merry dance. Wellesley decided to keep his army in two and march his columns either side of a range of hills to trap the enemy at Borkardan. It was nearly a fatal mistake, as I discovered the next day.
Late on the twenty-second of September we crested a rise and saw the rest of the Mahratta army stretched out before us. It was next to a village that has since become famous all over the world. It was a poor, scrubby place called Assaye.
Chapter 18
There was mounting excitement as the army gradually pulled itself together in a single place. Even I had a feeling of apprehension as we saw other dust clouds on the horizon moving in the same direction. There was a strong sense that the shadow war with Mahratta cavalry and the British evading each other was coming to an end and that a proper battle was coming.
We were among the last units to gather, and as I crested that final hill before Assaye I remember my jaw dropping in astonishment for the army was far bigger than I had imagined. The camp stretched fully two miles from left to right and including the camp followers there must have been close to one hundred thousand men in that valley. They had set up camp in the fork of two rivers with the cavalry off to the right, where the fork widened to give more grazing, and the infantry to the left, where the rivers joined. On the opposite side of the valley was an undulating plain leading to some more steep hills in the distance.
To beat this massive army the British had a force of less than twenty thousand. The idea that they had split to trap the Mahratta seemed ridiculous. It was a bit like two mice stalking a cat. The Mahratta had gathered because they had the British where they wanted them. They knew Stevenson with his half of the force was isolated
on the other side of the distant hills and that soon Wellesley’s column would be spread out before them on its way to attack the mythical Mahratta forces at Borkardan. The real Mahratta forces, and in particular the forty thousand cavalry, planned to sweep in the next day to make a surprise attack on Wellesley’s column. You did not have to be a general to know that forty thousand cavalry would destroy an army of less than ten thousand strung out marching along a road. Particularly with another thirty thousand infantry, much of it well trained, in support. That would just leave Stevenson’s column to deal with, and if that ‘mouse’ had any sense, it would run south as fast as it could go.
We marched through the ford at the village of Assaye, crossing the northern river called the Juah to join the rest of the camp between that river and the Kaitna half a mile or so further south. The recent rains meant that the rivers were already fast flowing and around chest height for a marching man. Apart from at the fords the banks were quite steep. Climbing the further bank of the Juah, we found that nearest space to have room for our battalions was near the fork of the rivers and so we made camp there. This was upwind of the rest of the camp as already the fields had a strong smell of where thousands of men have been living and defecating for several days. It was colourful, though, with tents of every hue for all the leaders, together with flags and other banners to mark out the camps of the various Mahratta tribes. Officers and men had more basic shelters from the occasional heavy rains or slept under the stars. At the far end of the camp where the space between the rivers widened there were thousands and thousands of horses tethered in rows, and looking to the northern horizon there were still more troops joining the gathering.
That evening the begum invited me to join her retinue to attend a council of the Mahratta chieftains. She said she wanted my opinion of the discussions from the British viewpoint. The council took place in a large tent with cushions for the various leaders in a circle and space for their retinues to sit and stand behind. I was there with Colonel Saleur, the deputy commander of her army. I had planned to slip quietly into the back of the tent unnoticed, but one of the officers from Skinner’s old company came over to greet me warmly.
“Flashman huzoor,” he said, “did you hear that the treacherous snake of your people who betrayed you was found dead the day after your escape? May Shaitan roast his balls to eternity. How are you, old friend?” He pounded me on the back.
“I wasn’t sure how welcome I would be amongst Scindia’s officers after what happened,” I replied.
“The Mahratta always respect courage. Now we know you are the Flashman who bayoneted the tiger and escaped the pindaree, and did we not see you with our own eyes stand up to our prince?” He glanced around to check that we were not overheard before adding, “Who even now, on the eve of battle, prefers debauching with his women rather than fighting with his men.” He gave a snort of disgust. “Be wary of the pindaree, though, Flashman for they are here in number and feel that they have a score to settle with you.”
I looked around and sure enough there was a group of swarthy coves without uniforms on the far side of the tent who were glaring maliciously at me.
“Thank you for the warning, my friend. How many of them are there here?”
“Many thousand, huzoor. They come here like jackals, sensing an easy kill. They will be the last to charge and the first to the plunder as usual.”
Several other of Scindia’s officers whom I knew caught my eye and gave me a smile in greeting. Even Pohlmann, whom I had met only twice before, gave me a nod of recognition when one of his officers made introductions around the group as we sat down.
After the usual courtesies and introductions Pohlmann opened the meeting by reminding all present of the British position as I have detailed earlier. There were divided, deceived, and half of the army was expected to march across our front tomorrow morning, unaware that we were on their flank and not at Borkardan where they expected. There was no discussion as to whether the Mahratta would win; given the facts, that was the only conclusion conceivable. Pohlmann was congratulated for his cunning and ingenuity, and from what I saw, despite what followed, he was a skilful general.
The debate then turned to the manner of the attack and that is where the arguments started. The British were in the habit of starting their marches very early in the mornings so that they reached their destination before the peak of the afternoon heat. This meant that they set off before their scouts could reconnoitre the route in daylight. The plan was for the cavalry to cross the southern river, the Kaitna, in the morning and launch a surprise attack as soon as the Mahratta scouts signalled that the British column was marching along the road opposite our position. The slower-moving infantry could then follow up the attack and mop up any resistance. It seemed sensible, but it set off a howl of protest among the infantry regiments, who were also in part here for plunder. They knew that they would arrive at the battle long after the regular cavalry and pindaree had taken absolutely anything of value for themselves.
Pohlmann tried to calm the situation by suggesting that there would still be British units holding out and plunder for the infantry to find, but no one believed that the British could withstand such overwhelming numbers of cavalry for long. He then suggested that the infantry would be leading the attack against Stevenson’s column, but again no one believed that this column would stay around to be attacked. It was clear that there was a big division between the cavalry, consisting of a lot of independently minded leaders and large numbers of pindaree, and the more regimented and European-trained infantry. In recent weeks, before I had arrived, Scindia had been leading his cavalry on various sweeps in fruitless efforts to trap the British. While they had failed to bring the British to battle they had already gathered some plunder. In the meantime all the infantry had done was slog over hundreds of miles of muddy roads dragging cannon and supplies with them. Now they thought it would all be a wasted effort.
Despite having no cavalry and commanding around a quarter of the foot soldiers present, the begum had taken no part in the arguments at the end of the council meeting. She just sat there impassively, watching the infantry and cavalry officers around her hurling insults at each other. Once, when her opinion was sought by one of the other infantry commanders, she just smiled enigmatically and said, “We must serve Lord Scindia the best we can to ensure victory.” Pohlmann thanked her for her wisdom and support and shortly after that the meeting broke up with other infantry commanders still feeling very resentful.
As the begum and I left the council tent and started to walk back to our own part of the encampment, she turned to me and asked, “What did you make of that?”
In truth I could see nothing then but a disaster for the British. Mahratta spies seemed to be feeding them false information and acting as their guides as well. They were hopelessly outnumbered and had foolishly divided their forces. But to say so may have convinced the begum that I was of little value to her if Scindia’s men came calling for my return. So I played for time while I desperately hoped that Wellesley had a surprise of his own up his sleeve.
“Wellesley is no fool, he may not do as you expect,” I said but with very little belief.
“He will have to be a remarkable general to avoid defeat tomorrow,” said the begum. “Our cavalry are confident that they can beat him alone if they catch his force unprepared on their march. Of course I shall pray tonight for my soldiers and for the opportunity that the whole army will be able to share the spoils of war. You must make your own prayers, Thomas.”
But the following morning everything changed and both our prayers were answered, although I suspect the begum’s had more earthly assistance.
Chapter 19
I did not sleep well that night. While I had a bed in a tent, it was stifling in there sharing with five others in a space that did not fully lose the heat of the earlier summer day. I took my blanket – and my mosquito net, as there were thick black clouds of the insects so close to two rivers – and laid out unde
r the stars. I remembered the night I had spent in the cell at Oojeine looking at the same stars and wondered if I was much safer than I had been before. If the battle was lost then either the pindaree would hunt me directly or remind Scindia of my presence. In either event the begum would not risk conflict with the then all-powerful Scindia to protect me. I had hoped before that if battle came I could slip my captors and join a retreating British force, but the way things were looking, the British would be massacred and there would be no orderly withdrawal. I lay there all night tossing and turning, and yes, even praying, while swatting at insects that had somehow got under the net.
As the grey light of dawn crept across the eastern sky the massive camp started to come alive. I rose early to wash in the stream and saw that the first troops of cavalry were starting to stir and get saddled up for what they expected to be a day of killing and looting. Some of the Mahratta mounted scouts were already splashing through the southern river Kaitna using the ford that was directly opposite the camp. They would ride south to give us the first news of the British advance. Despite the early hour two of the begum’s sowars were on hand to make sure I was not tempted to slip away, but with the British likely to be destroyed and pindaree on the prowl, safety still lay at that point with the begum. Gradually more people started to move around the camp but no one was in a rush, the British were not expected until late morning. Cooking fires were lit and soldiers started to wash and dress in their best clothes and uniforms for the battle ahead. Soon troops of cavalry started to splash through the ford, to jeering and insults from the infantry. These horsemen gathered on the southern shore of the Kaitna so that they were ready for the ride south.
Flashman and the Cobra Page 19