The Rape of Venice

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘The sister was much the stronger personality of the two; and it may be that her brother had for long secretly resented her dominance over him. Be that as it may, after a night when the cavalcade had camped in desolate country, he suddenly announced that she was ill of fever. For two days he would allow no one except himself to tend her or enter her tent in which she lay. Two mornings later he declared her dead and that, the fever having been a form of plague, her body must be disposed of at once. He had himself already sewn it up in a sheet, and he had it thrown over a precipice.’

  The Wazier paused, then went on impressively, ‘Yet the bearers who returned say that the body in the sheet had already the stench of decay. And more, more; on the first morning the vultures gathered overhead. Carrion birds have an awareness of death which brings them from afar. She must have been dead then, and Malderini’s pretence that she was ill of a fever a cloak to conceal that he had murdered her.’

  ‘How long was it, Excellency,’ Roger asked, ‘before he again appeared in Bahna?’

  ‘Not until six weeks ago. He had learned of my brother’s death, and returned to claim his wife’s inheritance.’

  ‘Ah, now I understand. Did he bring the Princess with him?’

  ‘No. He told us that her health would not permit her to travel.’

  ‘She was well enough when I saw her with him in England nine months ago. But there is a very different explanation. He has almost complete control over her; yet she escaped from it the night before my duel with him long enough to beg me to kill him. She regards him as the personification of evil, and he is doubtless aware of that. If so, he would not dare to bring her back here, from fear that once she was among her own people she would find means to rid herself of him.’

  Rai-ul-daula nodded. ‘Poor woman. Yes; no doubt you are right. I come now to what followed my brother’s death. I had for some ten years been his Wazier. It was his wish that I should retain that office. Given normal circumstances, with the exercise of tact, I foresaw no great difficulty in doing so. He chose his heir without consulting me; but my authority was sufficient to make any of his sons hold me in respect for some years at least, and during them I expected to inculcate into whichever was chosen sound principles for the government of Bahna.

  ‘The present Rajah, Jawahir-ul-daula, is a vain and vicious youth. As is not unusual at such successions, within a week he had his two most gifted half-brothers strangled. I made no protest, for to do so would not only have been futile, but also make him distrustful of me. I gave him his head, too, when he wished to play the peacock before his court by refusing to accede the Company’s demands. Why not? The weakness and vacillation your Sir John Shore showed in the affairs of Oudh, when he had to settle the succession to our cousin the Nawab Asaf-ul-daula, made it clear to me that he would take no steps against us until positively driven to it and, in the meantime, we would have the use of the money.’

  Roger could not help smiling as the squint-eyed Wazier went on. That was well enough; but I am not so great a fool as to expect to get the better of the Company for always. Bahna is too small a State and too near to Bengal to pick a quarrel of gravity with the English. This Sir John Shore will in time go home. There will come another. Not as great, perhaps, as your Lord Clive, or as wise and strong as your Mr. Hastings; but a true representative of your race, like the Lord Cornwallis or the Sir Eyre Coote. Then there would come war. Indian troops make brave warriors when led by their Princes one state against another, but they are no match for your redcoats, or the sepoy troops you train so cleverly, Bahna would be swiftly conquered, a huge fine imposed upon us, and the throne perhaps lost for good to my family. Am I not right?’

  ‘Indeed, Excellency,’ Roger bowed. ‘Your words are full of wisdom.’

  ‘Good. Then it will not surprise you to know that when we learned of the approach of Colonel Gunston’s force I was prepared to compromise. My advice to His Highness was to pay half and to continue to argue about paying the other half for as long as possible. But the accursed Malderini had already been here for some weeks. By then he had succeeded in making himself the master not only of the mind of our young Rajah but, apart from myself, of those of the principal men of the court.

  ‘I believe him to be in the pay of the French; but of that I am not certain. It is clear only that he is set on making trouble for us with the English. My advice was overruled, the Company’s troops were refused entrance to Eahna and the Colonel Gunston told that we would pay no part of the debt. But worse has followed. Malderini set off for Calcutta and kidnapped this English lady, your wife. Using her …’

  At that Roger could no longer contain his impatience to speak of Clarissa, and he broke in, ‘Forgive me, Excellency; but I am consumed with anxiety about her. Malderini said that she was in the palace and in good health. Was he telling the truth?’

  ‘Yes,’ the Wazier nodded. Then waving a hand towards the old lady who, since she had brought Roger into the room, had been sitting quietly in a corner listening to them, he added: ‘My honoured mother, the Begum Gunavati, saw her only this morning. She will confirm that your wife has suffered neither hardship nor injury.’

  Springing up, Roger turned with a bow to the Begum and cried: ‘I beg your Highness to tell me of her.’

  The old lady gave him a kindly smile, and said: ‘You have no cause for anxiety about her bodily state, and she seems sad rather than unhappy. She eats well but speaks little, and that is not because she lacks enough words of Urdu to make her meaning understood. For hours she sits doing nothing, as though she were living in a dream. That, I fear, is because this evil man has cast a spell upon her. The remedy is an ancient one and may prove difficult of accomplishment. To restore her to herself you must bring about his death, then burn his heart and cause her to eat some of its ashes in a stew of garlic.’

  ‘I pray only for the chance to kill him,’ Roger exclaimed, then he swung back to the Wazier. ‘I implore your Excellency’s help in this. Please have me taken back by your men, into the palace and led to the room he occupies.’

  Rai-ul-daula shook his head. ‘That is not possible. The door by which you left the palace will have been bolted after you. I have no means of communicating with the eunuch who let you out, or any other way in which I could secure your entrance.’

  ‘Tomorrow then!’ Roger urged. ‘You could arrange for the eunuch to let me in tomorrow night; and if I had a man to guide me …’

  ‘No, no; no! Even if I could do this without risk of it being discovered that it was I who had aided you, I would not. It would lead only to your death. Had it been possible to have him strangled, he would be dead by now. I would have seen to that. But he is too alert, too well guarded. And did he learn that I had sponsored your attempt, his influence with His Highness is enough to bring about my death also.’

  ‘But the thought of my wife in the clutches of that devil is driving me insane. If you will not give me the chance to kill him, then I beg you to rescue her. Your people succeeded in getting me out of a dungeon, so surely…’

  ‘You ask the impossible!’ The Wazier cut him short with an impatient gesture. To rescue you without an alarm being raised, it was necessary first only to surprise and kill the keeper of the dungeon. Your wife’s case is quite otherwise. She is an inmate of His Highness’s seraglio. To order my people to break in there would be against all principle; neither would I ask it of them.’

  ‘I ask only, Excellency, that they should lead me to it. I will do the rest.’

  ‘You think so, eh? Then I will describe what would come to pass. Within five minutes a hundred screaming women would have aroused the whole palace; within ten the eunuchs would have seized, blinded and castrated you. Only a man whose mind is bemused by love would propose such wild schemes. Your wife is in no immediate danger. I pray you calm yourself. Be seated again and take heed of what I am about to say.’

  With a sigh, Roger sank down on the pouf. The Wazier began to tick points off on his long fingers. ‘Jawahir-ul
-daula defies the Company. The Colonel Gunston is sent away empty handed, Malderini kidnaps an English lady. He uses her to lure here her husband. Both disappear in Bahna. At that the aristocrat English of Calcutta become greatly angry. They say to the weak Sir Shore: You shall shilly-shally no longer but must make an example of this small state. The force of Gunston’s is ordered to advance, and it is Malderini who has the ear of His Highness. He will puff the vain youth up with pride and counsel him to fight. If I protest, that will provide the excuse Malderini is already seeking. Because my eyes are afflicted his evil glance cannot dominate me; so he bears me great hatred. He is eager for the chance to destroy me. Yet, say that I do not give it to him; what then?’

  As the Wazier paused, evidently expecting an answer, Roger said: ‘Your fate will be sealed just the same, because the British will defeat the Bahna army. If His Highness and yourself do not die in battle you, as his Wazier, will be held responsible with him for the policy which brought the war about, and have to pay the penalty.’

  ‘Your thoughts are as mine. Because the evil Malderini has the power to make Jawahir-ul-daula his catspaw against the English, many of our people must die, our treasury be emptied, the city perhaps sacked, and my family lose the throne. How shall we prevent this?’

  Without, this time, waiting for a reply, Rai-ul-daula continued: ‘We must invite attack before the English in Calcutta become really angry and force Sir Shore to order our destruction. The Colonel Gunston must march his troops swiftly through the mountains. His Highness will order his army to take the field; but it will not fight. I and its other principal commanders will so arrange that it does not. Jawahir-ul-daula has had his opportunity to reign. He has proved himself a weak and Bad Prince. He will be deposed. Malderini will be seized and executed. Your wife will be freed. The colonel Gunston will be entertained by many dancing girls and given rich presents. When he leaves he will take back with him the twelve lakhs of rupees owed to the Company. All will be well.’

  ‘You give me new hope?’ Roger exclaimed eagerly. ‘But how, Excellency, are we to get Gunston to act.’

  ‘That should not be difficult; the Wazier shrugged, if you go to him, tell him how things are here, and inform him of our conversation.’

  Again Roger jumped to his feet. ‘Of course! He might distrust a written message, fearing it to be a trap; whereas if I tell him personally all that has occurred cannot fail to convince him. But can you get me out of the city? I’d need a horse, too; and a guide.’

  Rai-ul-duala rose from the divan. His squint was most disconcerting, but he smiled. ‘I am happy that you find my plan good; for my life hangs on it, as well as the safety of your wife. All is provided for. Come with me.’

  The Begum Gunavati had also risen to her feet. Going to a cabinet she produced a flat package and, handing it to Roger, said: ‘Hospitality has been outraged by our failure to offer you food and drink. That time is precious must be our poor excuse; but this may help to support you on your journey.’

  Having thanked her he followed the Wazier out into a square hall. A tall hawk-featured native whose skin was paler than that of most Indians was waiting there and salaamed to him. Acknowledging the salutation with a wave of his hand, he said to Roger: This is Mahmud Ali Kajar, an Afghan of the far north. I brought him with me from Delhi and trust him as I would a brother. He speaks a little Persian and will take you safely through the mountains.’ Then he turned and led the way up several flights of stairs.

  When they reached the second floor Rai-ul-daula crossed the landing and entered a room in which a single lamp was burning. Its light was enough to show a stout rope coiled up on the floor beneath a latticed window. Mahmud Ali opened the window and threw out the unsecured end of the rope, smiled at Roger, then climbed over the sill and shinned down it.

  The Wazier laid a hand on Roger’s shoulder, and said, ‘Follow him and have no fear. The camp is twenty miles distant and the road to it winds through the mountains making half as much again; but the moon will soon be up and prove your friend. You should be with the Colonel Gunston before the heat of morning. May the Gods protect you and bring you back swiftly.’

  Roger was very conscious that, although their interests were mutual, he owed both his life and this chance to save Clarissa to the Wazier; so he thanked him most earnestly. Then, loath to lose an unnecessary moment, he slid over the window-sill and, hand-over-hand, lowered himself quickly to the ground.

  The house from which he had come was built into the great wall, so he was now outside the city; and the starlight was sufficient for him to recognise, only a hundred yards away, the outline of the tower-flanked gate by which he had been brought into it soon after dusk had fallen. The rope’s end danced before him as Rai-ul-duala began to draw it up, then Mahmud Ali twitched him by the sleeve, drawing him towards the open country.

  For a few minutes they stumbled over rough ground, then they struck the road. A half-mile walk along it brought them to a farm house. Leaving Roger outside, Mahmud Ali went into its yard; evidently arrangements had already been made, for he emerged again almost at once leading two horses.

  At a steady trot they set off, keeping to the main road for about two miles, then turning off it onto one that led southward. Half an hour later the moon had risen silvering the tops of a low range of mountains they were approaching. Roger had met with no serious injury either while being captured or during the time he had spent as a prisoner, and although it was many hours since he had slept he was not conscious of any feeling of fatigue. The fact that, by a miracle, he was free again was sufficient to renew his vigour, and the thought that Clarissa’s rescue depended on his exertions, spurred him to fresh efforts.

  Halting only from time to time to rest the horses, they rode hour after hour along twisting stony tracks, down steep hills through boulder-strewn rivulets, and up again through dark gorges. The moon had set and the sky was paling in the east when Mahmud Ali reined in his mount at the farther end of a pass, and pointing southward said in his stilted Persian:

  ‘I come no farther, Sahib. From here, were it light, you could see town of Bamanghati. It lies in plain; five miles, six perhaps. To right of it lies camp. Allah be with you!’

  As Roger rode on alone he suddenly felt hungry, so he took from his pocket the flat packet that the Begum had given him. To his delight he found it to be a slab of nougat, for few things could have been better suited to sustain him that the rich mixture of honey and almonds. By the time he had disposed of a dozen mouthfuls he was half-way down the winding track and, at intervals, could now see plainly both the town and camp. Another half-hour and, with his mount in a lather from having cantered the last mile, he reached the entrance to the lines.

  He had made the arduous journey in about five hours, so it was not yet seven o’clock; but the camp was already stirring. The sepoys were milking their goats and lighting fires to cook their chupatties; havildars were shouting orders at fatigue squads and orderlies taking officers’ chargers down to water at a stream that flowed through the camp.

  A guard was being relieved at the roadside as he passed, but as he was a European no attempt was made to stop him. On slightly higher ground, a quarter of a mile away, stood a row of larger tents and two big marquees, which were obviously the officers’ quarters. Riding straight up to them, he threw himself off his horse. For the first time he was conscious of a terrible fatigue and stiffness of his limbs, but the knowledge that he was now certain of securing help to rescue Clarissa kept his mind buoyant.

  In front of one of the tents, a young officer, in his shirtsleeves, was just about to wash in a canvas bucket, and Roger called to him urgently:

  ‘Colonel Gunston! Where is he? I must see him at once.’

  Pointing to one of the marquees, the young man called back. ‘He is in there. But he’ll still be asleep, and he is apt to resent being woken early.’

  ‘I can’t help that,’ Roger croaked, his voice gone suddenly hoarse. ‘Anyway, he’ll not resent it on this occ
asion. I come on a matter of life or death.’

  The young man promptly put down the bowl he was holding, ordered his servant to take Roger’s mount and hurried with him over to the marquee. The sentry in front of it came to attention and stood rigid as they passed through the flap. Inside it was divided into two sections, the larger comfortably furnished as a reception room, and behind it a curtained-off sleeping-quarter. In the first a native servant was seated cross-legged on the floor pipe-claying his master’s equipment. With a look of surprised apprehension he quickly came to his feet and put a finger to his lips; but the officer told him sharply to wake the Colonel Sahib.

  With evident reluctance the man went over to the curtain and called several times, softly, through it. After a moment there came the sound of hearty cursing, then low muttering and a pause.

  Roger could hardly contain his impatience. He knew that by this time his escape must have been discovered. When it became evident that he had got clean away Malderini would expect him to return with troops. That meant that the Venetian would expedite his plan for using Clarissa in some horrible occult ceremony; or he might disappear from Bahna with her. But he could not know that Roger had been aided in his escape and supplied with a horse and guide; so he would probably count himself safe for several days at least. There was, therefore, still a good chance to take him by surprise before he could harm Clarissa. But only if Gunston broke camp at once, for it would take two days to march the troops through the hills; so every moment counted.

  Suddenly the curtain was wrenched aside, and Gunston appeared, wrapped in a chamber-robe, his red hair tousled and his beefy face flushed with anger. Beyond him Roger caught a glimpse of a wide-eyed young native girl with small firm breasts sitting up among the rumpled coverings of a divan.