“On the contrary, you are an honoured guest and we have much to talk about.” He gestured me to sit down and sat himself.
“We do?” I replied, sounding puzzled.
“Of course.” Manu Bappoo laughed. “I have found out a lot about you since we last met Mr... Flashman, is that how you say your name?” I nodded in reply before he continued. “For example, I am now aware that you are a trusted confidant of the begum of Samru.”
“I would not go that far,” I replied. “The begum plays her cards close to her chest. I don’t think anyone is her true confidant.”
“She plays her cards...” said Manu Bappoo, looking confused, and then his brow cleared. “Ah, I understand your meaning. You think she does not tell anyone what she is really thinking. You are probably right, for she is a great survivor as the ruler of a small state amongst the more powerful Mahratta princes.” He paused to take a drink from a gold cup on the table. “But from what I hear she values your judgement. Did she not take you to Assaye and ask your advice on what Wellesley would do? And alone, amongst those advising the Mahratta commander, did you not correctly predict that Wellesley would attack?”
So that is what this is about, I thought. “Do you want to know if Wellesley will attack you here? Is that why we are meeting?” If he wanted to know, I would tell him, for it was no secret. But I was surprised that he could not work this out for himself and wondered if the preparations had been delayed for some reason.
“Of course not.” Manu Bappoo smiled. “We can see the British siege guns coming across the plain and your engineers are widening the road up to the outer fort ready to bring up the guns to pound down a breach in the outer fort wall. But we are not worried. You have seen the gate to the inner fort. The British will die there and my brother will be acclaimed as the man who succeeded where Scindia failed in beating the British. I am looking beyond the defeat of the British, for that is inevitable. When the British are gone there will be war amongst the Mahratta princes, with Holkar on one side and my brother, supported by Scindia’s forces, on the other. I want you to watch the British defeat and then take news of it to the begum. I want you to persuade the begum to join her army to Berar’s forces.”
So that was it, I was to witness the destruction of the British army and then become a messenger again. My first reaction was relief; I had feared something much worse. I could do this and survive, which was more than those poor bastards assaulting the inner gate were likely to do. The begum would take no notice of my recommendation of course; she would weigh the odds herself. I would not be surprised if she had her own spies in Berar’s forces. But Holkar could not afford her army and Berar and Scindia’s lands were closer to her own, and so I thought that there was a good chance she would decide to go with the raja. But there were still a lot of loose ends to the Berar plan, Scindia for instance.
“Scindia is used to leading the Mahratta confederation,” I said. “He seems a proud man and his army must still be bigger than yours. Has he agreed to let the raja rule the confederation now?”
“That is very astute, Mr Flashman. I see you are asking the questions that the begum herself would ask when you talk to her. I think it is time I introduced you to a man you already know a lot about.”
With that he rang a bell and a moment later the door opened and a sleepy-looking man walked in carrying a large earthenware pot. He put his pot on the table and then looked around with glassy eyes.
“I have never seen this man before,” I said.
“No, but you have certainly heard of his exploits.” Manu Bappoo turned to the man and said simply, “Show him.”
The stranger took the lid of the pot and his hand hovered over the opening for a few moments before darting inside. It emerged holding a small snake. In a second a small knife appeared. There was a slight crunching sound as the snake was held down and then the head was tossed on the table in front of me. I looked down. It was the head of a small cobra. Its mouth was open and its tongue gave a final flick as I watched it. Suddenly I was remembering those two dried-up snake heads I had seen on de Boigne’s table back in Paris.
I looked at Manu Bappoo. “So was it you who ordered the killing of the Old Patiel and then de Boigne?”
“No, this man, who calls himself The Cobra for obvious reasons, was hired by Scindia then. Now he is employed by us. But importantly Scindia thinks that The Cobra still works for him, which means he will be able to get close to do his work. I was going to give Scindia the chance to retire with his concubines, but he cannot be trusted – he would try to regain power. This man will ensure that Scindia does not dispute the leadership of the confederation.” Manu Bappoo looked me clearly in the eye as he added, “He will take care of any Mahratta leader who blocks our ambitions.”
“Including the begum?” I asked.
“I would not dream of threatening such a valued and trusted friend as the begum,” he said, still looking me in the eye in a way that indicated that threatening the begum was exactly what he was doing. “And in case you are thinking of just fleeing back to Madras and then to England, I should mention that your friend Carstairs will be staying here and things will not go well for him if you do not do as we say.”
“You seem to have thought of everything,” I said grimly and looking aggrieved. Villains, and Manu Bappoo was certainly one of those, always like to be complemented on their plans. He looked pleased with himself, but I wasn’t sure he had covered all the angles here. It was not the first time that I had heard a Mahratta leader take the defeat of the British for granted. At Assaye they had been arguing over who got the loot instead of whether they would win, but at the end of the day the Mahratta army had been routed. I could not see how the British could fight their way through those gates, but I knew enough about the British army now not to bet against them. I was also glad that, unless Wellesley’s plans had changed, my 74th Highlanders would not be in that maelstrom for they were supposed to be coming up the cliff on the narrow path to the only other gate that led directly into the inner fort.
Manu Bappoo's biggest mistake was thinking that imprisoning Carstairs would get me to do as he wanted. Carstairs was bloody annoying and a danger to himself and those around him. On top of that, the chances of Manu Bappoo ever letting him go were slim. He could use Carstairs to get me to do his bidding and then kill both of us at the end. I decided I should view Carstairs as already dead and high-tail it for safety the instant I got the chance. And yet... I had known the irritating little squirt since we were at school together, and how easy would it be to head south if the country was overrun with marauding Mahratta? Manu Bappoo was bound to give me an escort to get to Sardhana and the begum, which would stop me escaping. Perhaps I could make the release of Carstairs a condition of her support?
I spent the rest of the dinner thinking through my options while listening to Manu Bappoo talk on about his plans for a Berar’s leadership of the Mahratta. It was clear that it was not the raja making the decisions; he was just a figurehead. Manu Bappoo planned to rule through the army and that was firmly under his control. He talked of his plans for glory while I thought about my plans for escape. But we were both wasting our time, for what happened in Gawilghur defied everyone’s expectations.
Chapter 30
The cannons started three days later. I had spent the days since the dinner fretting over what to do next. These days had been interrupted by a daily visit from Khaled, who would take me out for a stroll around the walls of the inner fort. I was allowed to wear my sword as befits a soldier but he had guards with pikes to ensure I was not tempted to do anything silly. Quite what he expected me to do with a sword against the entire garrison was beyond my imagination.
On the first day he pointed out on the plain far below what looked like a red snake slowly moving towards us. It was one of the British regiments marching towards the road that led to the outer fort for the assault. The garrison had tried firing their cannon at the British in the plain, but from such a height when the ball
s hit the ground their momentum was governed more by gravity rather than gunpowder and accuracy was impossible. I looked for the path that I thought my Highlanders would take and found the gate on the south side of the inner fort wall, but in front of it was a small flat triangle of land and a well-trodden path leading to the cliff edge.
The guns had little to do until the third day when the British revealed their siege batteries, which they had been carefully constructing under cover of night. The fact that they had got the guns up there meant that they had also evidently repaired the road we had surveyed. On the first day of the cannonade the British guns did little damage as far as I could see, but they were aiming for the northern wall on the outer fort. A cloud of dust rose from where each ball impacted to show that they were all aiming for the same point to create a breach in the wall for the troops to storm over. They seemed to have only three big guns and progress was slow.
When I awoke on the fourth day I could hear that the guns were firing more regularly, meaning that there were more of them. Khaled came to take me on our walk and this time I saw that there was already a breach in the north wall of the outer fort. Some of the guns were still firing at it to lower it further, but more of the guns were firing through the gap to create breaches in the southern wall of the outer fort, the one that faced the inner fort. Clouds of dust showed that they were trying to create two breaches in that wall. The Mahratta were returning fire from their cannon in embrasures on the northern wall of the outer fort, but the British cannon were protected behind big baskets of stone and covered when they were not firing. Other British cannon were also systematically destroying the Mahratta gun embrasures. The day before the Mahratta had been swarming around the courtyard of the outer fort with wooden battens, trying to shore up the wall being attacked, but this time they were doing nothing to hinder the bombardment. The men I could see in the courtyard were sheltering in the corners.
“Why are they not doing anything to rebuild the walls around the breaches or put up obstacles for the attackers?”
“Watch, huzoor, you will see.”
A few moments later, in between all the sharp bangs from the cannon and the crack of the impact of the balls, I heard a whoomp sound. A black ball could be seen arcing slowly a fifty yards into the sky before dropping into the centre of the courtyard. It bounced a couple of times and then span to a stop for a few seconds before exploding with a loud bang that sent shards of iron whistling around the courtyard of the outer fort. The British had brought a mortar with them.
“It does not matter, huzoor. We know that they will take the outer fort. We will have men there to defend the breaches. At the last they will retreat to the inner fort with our men here giving covering fire. The British will think victory is in sight but then they will die in the gates.”
Over the walls you could catch glimpses of the redcoats as they moved about their batteries. It reminded me of the time that I watched Wellesley and his cavalry before the start of Assaye. I had been feeling hopeless despair then as I could not see how the British and sepoy army would fight their way through. But as I watched that mortar slam into the outer courtyard and the Mahratta keeping their heads down, I took hope. Wellesley and Stevenson’s columns had already fought sieges against tough fortresses and had taken them without difficulty. Granted, the others had not involved ravines, cliffs and multiple gatehouses, but while the Mahratta were warriors, the British and sepoy troops were professional soldiers who would carefully plan each stage of the attack. Well, that is what I thought at the time. How was I to know that the British would almost certainly have been beaten were it not for the impulsive decision of a brave Scottish captain? Oh aye, and the spontaneous action of a very irritating Englishman with no fear of heights.
On the fourth morning after the cannons started Khaled came for me early, and instead of taking me on our usual walk around the walls he went to a tower close to the west wall. We climbed a narrow spiral staircase to emerge on the top, which had excellent views of the outer fort and some of the ravine path between the two strongholds. A group of Mahratta leaders were there looking across with telescopes at the British and sepoy lines. One of them turned around at our arrival and I saw it was Manu Bappoo, this time dressed in gleaming armour.
“Welcome, my friend.” He smiled at me excitedly. “You are just in time to see the fruition of all of our plans. The enemy is preparing to attack.” He held out his telescope. “Do you want to look?”
I walked over and took the glass and focused it on trenches near the guns where large numbers of men could be seen moving. The Mahratta cannon facing the assault party had all been destroyed now, but the men in the outer fort were firing rockets which fizzed around the trenches before spinning off in random directions. I moved the glass over the outer fort and could see maybe a thousand men waiting in each of the more sheltered sides of the courtyard to meet the assault. British cannon and the mortar were still firing at the breach to deter any defenders from gathering there. Along the damaged walls of the outer fort more soldiers stood with muskets to fire at the attackers. In all there must have been several thousand in the outer fort. Looking around the inner fort, I did not need the telescope to see that at least a thousand more men stood on the ramparts of the four gatehouses and the walls between them. They would be able to fire down with impunity at the attackers trapped in the narrow passage between the gates, creating a corridor of death that the Mahratta expected would bring the British and sepoy attack to a bloody halt. The rest of the walls facing the outer fort were lightly manned as beneath those walls was a vertical cliff forming the sides of the ravine.
Manu Bappoo ordered his lieutenants to their posts and the men dutifully set off down the steps of the tower, leaving two guards, Khaled, Manu Bappoo and myself, on the top.
“I have brought your friend to join you,” said Manu Bappoo, pointing behind me. “I would not want you to forget your friendship and it was not safe for him in the outer fort.”
I turned to look as he spoke and there, crouched against the ramparts, was Carstairs. I had not noticed him when I first came up the steps as he looked like a bundle of rags and was hunched down below the level of the rampart. He had not been well treated. He was dirty, his clothes were torn and there were cuts and bruises around his face. But more alarmingly it seemed his irrepressible enthusiasm had finally been repressed. He just gazed blankly down at the stone between his feet, taking no notice of his surroundings.
“Khaled and the guards will stay with you,” said Manu Bappoo. “Watch our victory closely, Flashman. I want you to be able to report all the details to the begum.” With that he followed his lieutenants down the stairs.
Khaled and the guards turned to watch the outer fort and ignored me as I walked over to where Carstairs was crouching. I was shocked at the transformation in him. While I had been in several prisons before, this must have been his first time and some people struggle to cope. Evidently the conditions I had been kept in with decent food and a comfortable bed were a lot better than he had been enjoying. I was not quite sure what to do. I couldn’t leave him like this. I needed him to pull himself together. He had spent years being shouted at by drill sergeants and riding majors and so I decided to use their approach.
“Lieutenant Carstairs,” I called sharply down to him, “get on your feet at once.”
He looked up at me for the first time and recognition crossed his face and then slowly he started to get to his feet.
“You are a British officer, God dammit,” I hissed at him. “How dare you look so disreputable in front of the enemy?”
He pulled himself to attention and at last put his chin up and stared straight ahead. The irony was, of course, that it had taken me just a night to get to the same state in Scindia’s jail, but Carstairs was not to know that.
“Sorry, Flash,” he whispered. “I am just not used to this like you.” I saw him look at my relatively clean and straight uniform and then surreptitiously pull at his own jacket to straight
en it out.
“That is better,” I said, suppressing a smile. “Now stand easy and stay alert.”
“Are we going to escape?” he whispered at me, sounding a bit more enthusiastic.
“Escape?” I asked incredulously. “We are in a fortress on the edge of a cliff guarded by six thousand Mahratta soldiers – how far do you think we would get?”
“So are we going to help the British attack?”
I looked at him and bit back my initial response, that we were just going to try to stay alive. That would see the poor devil thrown back into his dungeon, and any fool could see that he was desperately looking for some hope to hang on to.
“Yes,” I said at last. “If the opportunity arises to help the attack, we could look at it.”
“Flash, I won’t let you down.” There was a gleam in his eye now and he started to pace around the top of the tower, looking over the edge.
I was not worried; there was not a lot we could do to help the British here. There was only one way up to the roof through the tower itself. It was not joined to any of the other battlements apart from with a stone arch over a street below which stretched from near the top of the tower to the west wall, and that was less than a foot wide.
Anyway, initially it did not look like the British would need any help. A sudden crash of musketry from the outer fort indicated that the attack was underway, and looking up, I could see a large crowd of redcoats running for the breach. The British cannon maintained their fire as the men ran in, shooting balls over the heads of their own soldiers in front to crash into the ramparts. The Mahratta swarmed to the breech to meet the charge and their shouts and yells almost drowned out the double whoomp sound as two perfectly aimed mortar shots landed in their midst. The carnage that these shells caused in such a tightly packed mass of men was truly appalling, and as the survivors staggered, stunned and shocked, in the smoke they found the first attackers tearing in at them. The redcoats were mostly sepoy soldiers from Madras and they streamed into the fort, fighting their way through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. Avenging hordes of red-coated demons flew up the steps leading to the top of the walls to rout the men who had fired down on their approach, and within a few second it seemed that thousands of Mahratta were running towards the gate leading towards the path to the inner fort.
Flashman and the Cobra Page 31