'Why this particular wagon? What are you hiding, Lieutenant?' Without waiting for a reply, Jack vaulted onto the back of the vehicle and pulled back the canvas cover. 'Oh, dear God in heaven.'
'Hello, Jack.' Mary looked up at him.
Chapter Four
'Do you mean you knew that Mary was travelling with the column?' Jack stared at Elliot.
'Yes, sir.' Elliot stood at attention inside the tent. Sweat glistened on his face.
'Why the devil did you not tell me?'
'I thought you had enough worries,' Elliot said. 'I kept an eye on her.'
'Dear God, man – she could have been killed!'
'Yes. That's why I kept an eye on her.' Elliot remained stubbornly unrepentant.
'Go and find her and bring her here,' Jack ordered.
'No need for that, Captain. I'm already here.' Mary pushed back the flap and entered the tent. 'Arthur is not to blame, Jack. I made him swear not to tell you.'
About to blast her, Jack took a deep breath to control his temper. This woman drives me to distraction. 'Why are you here?'
'Sir Colin needed an interpreter,' Mary said.
'Did he ask for you?' Jack asked.
'I volunteered my services.' Mary held Jack's glare with impressive composure.
'Have you any idea how dangerous that could be?'
'Why no, Captain Windrush,' Mary said. 'I thought it would be as safe as strolling in the cantonment at Gondabad.'
Jack opened his mouth and closed it again. The previous year, he had helped rescued Mary from the mutineers at Gondabad. 'You should have told me.'
'Lieutenant Elliot was correct in what he said. If you'd known, you would have worried about me. That might have impaired your ability to do your duty, and I do not wish that on my conscience.'
'Leave us, Elliot,' Jack said.
'Yes, sir,' Elliot said. 'Sir—'
'Leave us!' Jack glowered at Elliot until he hurried out of the tent.
'Now, Miss Lambert,' Jack said, and realised that Mary was laughing at him. Although her face was immobile, her eyes were alive with bright mischief.
'Before you shout at me, Captain Jack,' Mary said. 'I have one thing to say.'
'And what is that, pray?'
'This.' Leaning forward, Mary gave him a single kiss on the forehead. 'I'm glad that we are both still alive, Jack.'
Jack touched her arm, his anger completely gone. 'I wish you would keep yourself out of danger, Mary. Battlefields are no place for a woman.'
'Battlefields are no place for anybody,' Mary said. 'Every night I pray to the Lord that there are no more battles, and every day I learn that the Lord has desires contrary to my wishes.'
'There will be another battle tomorrow,' Jack said. 'Khan Bahadur Khan will fight to defend Bareilly, and that will be ugly. I saw street fighting in Lucknow, and we lost far too many men.'
'Let's hope that the Lord helps him see sense and surrender.'
'Khan Bahadur Khan will not surrender,' Jack said. 'We hang our prisoners or blow the poor fellows from a cannon. They have nothing to gain from surrender.'
'I have never found Sir Colin to be particularly bloodthirsty,' Mary said. 'He is a good soldier and a humane man.'
Jack shook his head. 'He's the most humane commander I've ever known.' He frowned as a sudden thought struck him. 'Have you been here ever since we left Lucknow?'
Mary shook her head. 'No. I watched you march away with Walpole, and I felt sick, frankly.'
Jack frowned again. British gentlewomen should not be so forthcoming about their emotions.
'Thank you,' Jack said, aware how inadequate his words sounded. 'I didn't like leaving you behind. I would have liked it less to have you come with us.'
'Oh?' Mary's eyebrows rose. 'Don't you like my company?'
Jack frowned. 'I do like your company. I don't like to think of you being in danger.'
Mary couldn't hide her smile as she looked away. 'In India, Captain Jack, we are in danger all the time. Until this war is over, nowhere is safe.'
'I'll do my best to finish it quickly for you.' It was not hard for Jack to alter his frown into a smile.
'Take care, Jack,' Mary said seriously. 'I also like your company.' She deliberately repeated Jack's words. 'I don't like to think of you being in danger.'
'Danger is part of the soldier's bargain,' Jack said. 'We know that when we accept the Queen's shilling or the Queen's commission. You have done neither. It's my job to try and protect the civilian population.' He lowered his voice. 'On the other hand, I want to protect you.'
Mary nodded, once. Her eyes didn't stray from Jack's face. 'I know,' she said.
'Captain Windrush!' The educated voice came from outside the tent.
Jack sighed. 'Somebody wants me.'
'So it seems.' Mary rose from her seat. 'We never have time together. I'll leave you to your duty.' Her hand lingered on his arm for longer than was necessary.
'Thank you.' Jack watched her leave the tent before he raised his voice. 'I'm Captain Windrush!'
The ensign was red-faced, as they all seemed to be this season, and fair-haired. 'Colonel Hook sends his compliments, sir and requests your presence in his tent at your earliest convenience.'
Colonel Hook? How did he get here?
'That means now,' Jack said with a wry smile. 'Thank you, ensign. Pray convey my respects to Colonel Hook and inform him that I will be along directly.' He hesitated. 'Or I will when you tell me where his tent might be.'
Hook's tent was in the centre of the British encampment, with two heavily bearded Sikhs on guard at the flap. They moved aside when Jack announced himself.
'Ah, Windrush. What have you to report?' Hook sat at an ornately carved bureau, half hidden behind a pile of paperwork.
'I met Jayanti,' Jack said and described what had happened. Hook listened, nodding where necessary.
'Interesting woman,' Hook said. 'I wonder why she didn't kill you. Indeed, I wonder why she spoke to you at all.'
'I wonder how she knew who I was, sir,' Jack reminded. 'She even knew my middle name.'
'That's even more interesting.' Hook selected a long cheroot from a silver case. 'There's a lot more here than we know about.'
'Yes, sir.'
'You have done better than I expected, Windrush. I thought you might find some intelligence about Jayanti and here you have succeeded in contacting her.'
'She contacted me, sir and I would like to know why,' Jack said. There are two women in my life now, and both are trouble.
'I'll have to check with my colleagues and see if they can enlighten us.' Hook gave a sudden smile. 'As you're part of the organisation now, Windrush, you should know who they are. We have William Muir, the magistrate fellow in Agra, and Major Herbert Bruce. Have you heard of Bruce?'
'No, sir,'
'He used to work in the Punjab police and served under General Neill and Havelock as well as Sir Colin. He's a good man.'
'I see, sir.' Jack realised that there were layers of British rule about which he knew nothing.
Hook tapped his cheroot on his bureau, his gaze never straying from Jack's face. 'You'll know about Raja Nahr Singh, of course.'
'No, sir. I've never heard of that gentleman.'
Hook lit the cheroot, allowing smoke to spiral around the tent. 'He was our spymaster in Delhi. He kept William Muir informed of everything that happened inside Delhi.'
'He is a loyal man, sir.'
'No.' Hook shook his head. 'Or rather, not loyal to the Queen, if that's what you mean.'
Jack frowned. 'Do you mean he was loyal to John Company?'
Hook's smile was as intriguing as anything Jack had ever seen. 'Not exactly, Windrush. He and John Company were both loyal to the same thing.'
'The Empire?'
Hook laughed. 'Not quite.' Reaching into a small bureau that stood behind his chair, Hook unlocked the top drawer and pulled out a small leather draw-bag. 'They are both loyal to this.' Opening the bag, he poured out a
golden cascade of guineas, sovereigns and mohurs. 'Money, Windrush. Wealth. This country runs on two things, information and wealth. It is a venal society with professional intelligence gatherers such as Mukhdum Baksh. Poor Mukhdum worked for us in Delhi and latterly was my agent in Bareilly.'
Jack wished he had never asked. He didn't recognise this India. 'You say that Mukhdum was your agent?'
'Correct. Nana Sahib found him and had him executed.' Hook waved his cheroot around his head. 'You don't wish to know the details.'
Jack shook his head. 'No, sir.' Indian executions could be gruesome.
Hook scooped all the golden coins back into the bag and lifted it in the air. 'This,' he jingled the bag, 'is what India is all about. Money. The Company wants to increase its profits, and the rajahs and princes want the wealth that comes from power. The mutineers buy recruits, the rebel princes pay their followers, and we give our sepoys regular pay. If we stop paying the sepoys, they have no reason to be loyal to us. The British, as John Company, are in here for profit, while Britain needs the revenue, and the prestige.'
'I thought this mutiny was about religion, sir.' Jack thought of the fanatical Ghazis, sacrificing themselves against the bayonets of the 42nd and 113th.
'It is, in part,' Hook said. 'The men who run it manipulate the sepoys with stories of threats, real or fanciful, to their religion, and the Ghazis and so on are genuine in their hatred of our missionaries and their fear that we are trying to Christianise the whole country.' He shrugged. 'But the men – and women – at the top want their positions back, and the wealth that goes along with it.' Hook threw the leather bag in the air and caught it one-handed. 'Wealth and power, Windrush; that's what everything comes down to, here and elsewhere.'
'The love of money is the root of all evil.' Jack gave one of the few Biblical quotes he remembered.
'Timothy, chapter six, verse ten. Simplistic but true to an extent,' Hook said. 'Add the love of power to that, and I would agree.' He examined the tip of his cheroot, flicked off the excess ash and replaced it in his mouth. 'Now, you have made some progress with Jayanti, Windrush – continue with the search.'
'Yes, sir.' Jack paused. 'Do you wish me to take out my company and search the Terai to the north?'
'No, you can start in Bareilly,' Hook said. 'We'll have some rebel prisoners who may wish to help in exchange for their lives.'
'We have to capture it first,' Jack reminded.
'The rebels will run,' Hook said casually. 'They won't fight.'
'Are you sure, sir?'
'Quite sure.' Hook smiled. 'Information and wealth, Windrush. Trust me, we'll have Bareilly in two days with the minimum of fuss, and then you will have some prisoners to interview.'
'Yes, sir,' Jack said. An order was an order.
Chapter Five
On the 6th May, British artillery started bombarding suspected insurgent strongpoints in Bareilly. Next day, with the dust and smoke still drifting across the city, Campbell drove in his column without resistance. The enemy had fled.
'We're still chasing Jayanti.' Jack lit another cheroot, coughed, and sat on the chair next to Elliot. A servant salaamed and brought a brass bowl, brimming with water.
'Do we know where she is?'
'Not yet, Arthur. Colonel Hook suggests that we ask the prisoners.'
Elliot snorted. 'I'm sure they will willingly tell all before we hang them.' He looked up. 'How's your Pushtu? Alternatively, will they speak Hindustani? I can speak about a dozen words in total.'
'I know a few words, and I know good translator,' Jack said.
'Do you mean Mary?' Elliot lifted the flask again.
'I do,' Jack said.
Elliot swallowed. 'It could be difficult for her.'
'I won't force her,' Jack said. 'I'll give her a choice.'
'I know your choices.' Elliot took another pull at his silver flask. 'Take it or take something worse.'
'I won't be like that with Mary.' Jack smiled. 'I like her.' Jack waited for Elliot's reaction.
'Only like the woman, or do you more than like the woman? Do you like her as much as you liked Helen?'
Jack considered. 'I think Mary is a better person than Helen.'
'That is not what I asked, my verbally elusive Captain Windrush,' Elliot said.
Jack smiled. 'I know it's not. I will tell you the answer when I know it myself.'
Elliot nodded. 'Be careful, Jack, that is all I ask.'
'At present, I need Mary as a translator,' Jack said.
'You could ask one of the Company wallahs. They work with the natives; they have to speak their languages.'
'The sepoys mutinied against the Company,' Jack said. 'I doubt they would talk to a Company officer.'
Elliot nodded. 'Will they be any more willing to talk to a woman? How will you convince your prisoners to talk?'
Jack shrugged. 'I've seen the Sikhs burning their prisoners alive. I could offer to hand the sepoys over to them.'
'Others might do that, Jack. You wouldn't.' Elliot leaned back in his cane chair. 'We're supposed to be officers and gentlemen, representatives of the most civilised nation on earth, and here we are condoning murder and torture. Thank God that Sir Colin is against such slaughter. Our men want blood though. To them, any native could be a pandy, and the only good pandy is a dead pandy.'
Jack nodded. 'You're right there. We may pay for this brutality later.' He thought of the black-turbaned woman slicing at the injured Green. 'The trouble is, the enemy can be every bit as barbaric, so atrocity leads to retaliation.'
'They are very like us, and we are very like them,' Elliot said. 'That's what worries me. We announce our progressive civilisation and Christianity and then act as badly as the enemy.' He shrugged and poured more whisky down his throat. 'It's enough to drive a man away from drink.'
'I've allocated a permanent sentry for Mary and placed her in a tent in the centre of the camp, between our lines and the 42nd. No pandy will dare try attacking her.' Jack stood up. 'I'll see if she agrees to translate.'
'Be careful, Jack.' Elliot raised his flask in salute. 'Don't get too attached to her. A girl like Mary will only ruin your career.'
Jack nodded. He knew Elliot was correct.
Hutton saluted as Jack approached the tent. 'Good afternoon, sir.' He kept his face immobile.
'Good afternoon, Hutton. Is the lady at home?' Jack scratched on the canvas and waited for Mary to invite him in.
'Of course, I'm at home!' Mary answered. 'Come in, Captain Jack.'
'I need your help,' Jack said as he entered.
Mary smiled. 'You should never try to be a diplomat, Jack. You're too blunt for that.' She stood up from her charpoy and stretched her arms. 'What can I do for you?'
'I need your language skills.' Jack explained the situation.
'These prisoners you want me to question.' Mary was frowning. 'When you've questioned them, what will happen to them?'
'Oh, they'll be hanged.'
'I thought so.' Mary sat back down. 'I've seen enough suffering in this war, Jack.'
'I'm not asking you to torture them.'
'No, you're asking me to help interrogate people who know we're going to hang them.'
'They're traitors and rebels.' Jack fell back on traditional beliefs.
'Or patriots and men whom our actions forced to rebel.' Mary countered him without losing her patience. 'Do you think they will help you, knowing their death is inevitable whatever they say?'
'You have something up your sleeve, Mary,' Jack said. 'Come on now, out with it!'
'Freedom,' Mary said. 'Offer them their freedom if they co-operate.'
'They might lie to save themselves.' Jack sat cross-legged on the floor, not caring how undignified a position it was.
Mary's smile always took him by surprise. 'They might lie anyway, knowing it doesn't matter what they say.'
'Yes.' Jack tried to retain his patience. 'But how can we trust them? They'll tell us anything for freedom.'
Mar
y's smile broadened. 'If any of them know where Jayanti is, make him guide you there, and you will only free him when you know he's not lying.'
'You are a cunning lady.' Jack sighed. 'You have all the answers.'
'Why, thank you, kind sir.' Mary sunk into a graceful curtsey. Jack was unsure if her eyes were friendly or mocking.
Even with the offer of freedom, few of the prisoners were willing to be helpful. Most sat in silence as Mary asked questions, with some replying with shouted slogans and threats. Only three responded to Jack's request; one was a Pathan from the Khyber, and the other two had been sowars in the Company's cavalry, high-class Hindus with land and families.
'We'll speak to these three,' Jack decided, 'and ignore the others.'
The sowar mutineers were proud men, defiant despite their capture. They answered Jack's questions with short, sharp answers and glared at him.
'Of course, I know of Jayanti,' the first sowar said.
'Everybody knows about the devil woman,' the second replied, 'except the proud sahibs.'
'Only Shiva can catch her,' the first sowar said. 'The sahibs will need my help.'
'I can lead you to her lair,' the second offered, 'for a thousand rupees and a fast horse.'
'Why are you helping?' Jack asked the final question.
'To get back to my family,' the first mutineer said.
'To get back to my family,' the second sowar gave an identical answer.
Jack sent both away. 'I don't trust them,' he said.
'Would you prefer to see the Pathan?' Mary sounded amused. 'Pathans kill for fun and rob as a matter of course.'
'Bring him in,' Jack said. 'The mutineers have already broken their faith and now say they are willing to betray one of their own. I would trust them as far as a wooden threepenny bit.'
The Pathan was tall and lean, with a face that would give Satan nightmares and even in chains, he looked as if he would murder his brother for a handful of gold mohurs.
'Your name?' Jack had sufficient experience with the men of the 113th to recognise a rogue.
'Batoor.' The Pathan held Jack's gaze without fear. Jack had heard that if a Pathan met Queen Victoria, he would look her in the eye and shake hands as if to say, “I'm as good a person as you are”. People also reckoned Pathans as faithless, thieving and predatory, while their mothers prayed that their sons became famed robbers. With this fellow Batoor, all these stereotypes appeared to be correct.
Windrush- Jayanti's Pawns Page 9