'I wish you would stop blaspheming, Jack! And would you send me back on my own?' Mary asked sweetly. 'With so many pandies around? Oh, Captain Jack Windrush, how could you be so cruel?'
'You little minx!' Jack's glare bounced off Mary without effect as Elliot began to whistle a little song and walked away to study the bark of a tree as if he had never seen such a thing before.
Jack took a long deep breath. Why do we always argue? 'If you come,' he conceded inevitable defeat, 'you do as I say and keep out of trouble.'
'Yes, Captain Windrush,' Mary said meekly.
'I don't like the idea.'
'Yes, Captain Windrush,' Mary said again. 'You do forget something. I have been walking through Indian towns all my life, and I grew up around Gondabad. I know the city and the people far better than you do, or anybody in your little army.'
Jack had no answer to that. 'I plan on going into the fort as well.'
'All right,' Mary said. 'I'll talk to the women. They will know more than the men do. Where will you start?'
'In the bazaar,' Jack said.
'That's as good a place as any,' Mary approved.
'We'll leave after dark,' Jack said. He wasn't happy to take Mary into danger once more. 'Maybe you'll be glad to have a boring and claustrophobic cantonment life after this trip.'
He felt Mary's eyes surveying him and wondered what she was thinking.
Chapter Ten
The city of Gondabad had long outgrown its walls, sprawling into the surrounding countryside in an array of slum housing and the more impressive dwellings of merchants. Pi-dogs barked at irregular intervals.
With her head covered and a green and red sari extending to her ankles, Mary walked a few steps behind Jack as he walked boldly toward one of the city's side gates. As a warrior, he adopted a swagger, snarling at anybody who tried to speak to him and spitting betel-nut juice at infrequent intervals. Only when he approached the gate did Jack realise how difficult it might be to get into the city.
Three guards lounged at the gates, two wearing the uniform of Bengal Army sepoys and the third sporting a spiked helmet and a breastplate. The sepoys stepped forward, Brown Bess muskets extended.
'Don't say a word,' Mary gave a quiet order. 'I'll say you're mute.'
Jack nodded, placed a hand on the hilt of his Khyber knife and increased his swagger. He walked right up to the muzzle of the closest sepoy and grunted as Mary spoke in Hindi. Within a few moments, the guards stepped aside, and Jack marched into the city.
Last time he'd been in Gondabad, he had been removing a private from a brothel in the days before the utiny. Now the mutineers and their allies held the city and possibly the vast fort above, with any British expelled or dead. The loyalists in Gondabad would be sitting quietly, waiting for the British to return, while the majority would wait to support whichever side turned out to be stronger.
'This way,' Mary took over, leading Jack through the twisting narrow passageways of the ancient town. Avoiding the sewers that bisected the streets, they passed shuttered windows and walked underneath overhanging balconies. The smell, as always, was strong, a mixture of filth and exotic spices, camels and other animals, and crowded humanity. They passed windowless houses with deeply inset ornate doors, heard evocative Indian music and hurried past the large havelis – townhouses – of merchants before they stopped at a wide, pointed gateway.
'The bazaar is through here.' Mary appeared more relaxed than Jack felt. She frowned. 'I'm interested in knowing how you expected to question people when you can hardly speak a word of any Indian language.'
'Remember that we're looking for Jayanti.' Jack ignored her sarcasm. 'She might be conspicuous.'
'I won't forget,' Mary said.
The bazaar was crowded with men and women, all talking and shouting, buying and selling and living their lives. Jack had thought the war would have created poverty, but the shops in the bazaar were full. Wherever he looked, he saw custard apples and mangoes, guavas and vegetables, with the aroma of hot sweets enticing little boys, while little girls sported glass-bead bangles or eating sticks of sugar cane while their parents haggled with goldsmiths who worked on tiny scales. It was a scene of vibrant colour and life, with itinerant merchant and a dancing bear, children darting everywhere and rangy dogs snarling and fighting amongst the crowds. A handful of sepoys merged with the rest, talking and laughing as if they belonged. Jack stilled the anger he felt when he saw the mutineers.
'Your time will come,' he promised himself. 'We'll round you up and have you dancing at the end of a rope.'
'What was that, Jack?' Mary asked.
'I didn't say anything.'
'You were talking to yourself in English. Be careful.'
A wounded warrior limped past, with bloody bandages around his head and leg. Jack nodded in satisfaction. He didn't like human suffering but listening to the pandies torturing and mutilating one of the 113th had killed any lingering sympathy he had held for the mutineers. In some way, it had been worse than the well at Cawnpore.
'I can't see any woman warriors,' Jack said.
'Did you think Jayanti would come to the bazaar to buy her bread and fruit?' Mary's sharp tones revealed her inner strain. 'Now stay with me and keep quiet.'
Walking to a crowd of woman around a stall, Mary began to talk to them, with Jack feeling out of place. A passing sepoy glanced at him, and Jack glared back, hoping to intimidate. The sepoy spat on the ground and walked on.
Mary took hold of his arm. 'It's all right, Jack, they will think I'm your wife, or at least your woman.' She kept her voice low.
'Did you learn anything?'
Mary guided Jack to a corner of the wall, stinking with urine and spices. 'I said that I was glad there were some female warriors and not only men, who seemed to run away every time the British fired their guns.'
'Did it work?'
'Oh, yes,' Mary smiled. 'If one wants to make friends with a woman, all one has to do is insult men. It creates an instant bond that transcends race, religion or nationality. It's an international sisterhood.'
'What did you find out?'
'They are only low caste women, so they're not highly educated,' Mary began. 'They told me that Jayanti is in the fort and will drive the British away without any help from the men.'
'That was quick work,' Jack said. He sighed. 'You did well, Mary.'
'Speaking the language helps,' Mary said. 'Honestly, Jack, I don't know what you were thinking of trying to come here alone.'
Jack grunted, ignoring his blinding headache and the dizzy spells that were becoming more frequent by the hour. He found it hard to do anything, let alone think. 'I was doing my duty,' he said. 'Let's have a look at the fort.'
From the outside, Gondabad Fort was ugly, with granite walls twenty feet thick pierced by ten gates and a deep moat. On the north side, the wall rose perpendicular from its granite base, while on the south the gates opened directly into the city.
'It's strong.' Jack had passed the fort many times when the 113th had garrisoned Gondabad. 'I hadn't realised how big it is.'
'It's fifteen acres in area.' Mary surprised him with her knowledge. 'The Chandela kings were here for centuries, and the Rajputs strengthened it centuries ago, and then the Moghuls captured it. I heard that thousands died in the siege and sack of the city.'
'And then we took it,' Jack said.
'No, we didn't,' Mary said. 'We always had an agreement with the Rajah, so he retained power as an ally or rather a client, of the British.'
'I hadn't realised that.' Jack gave her a little bow to acknowledge her scholarship. 'We were not allowed to approach the fort. The Rajah had an arrangement with the army.' He shrugged. 'It was all very mysterious.'
'I don't know what happened when the mutineers took the city,' Mary said.
'Whatever happened, Sir Colin or Hugh Rose will capture the fort and city.' Jack swayed as another bout of dizziness swept over him.
'Jack? Are you all right?' Mary sounded concerned.
&n
bsp; 'I'm fine.' Jack tried to concentrate on the fort. With its defended gateways and round towers, even Sir Colin's well-equipped army would have difficulty storming such a place.
'Are we going in?' Mary stared at the imposing walls.
'What is there that a bold man will not dare?' Jack misquoted the Bold Buccleuch. 'I'm going in. You are going back to the camp to tell Lieutenant Elliot what you've discovered.'
'No.' Mary shook her head. 'I'm not leaving you alone here. You're not well.'
'I'm fine,' Jack said.
'Don't lie to me, Jack Baird Windrush,' Mary hissed. 'You're not thinking straight. The best thing for you would be to get back to the camp and let Elliot take over.'
'No!' Shaking his head increased the pain. 'I'm going into the fort.'
'And what will you do when you get there?'
'Kill Jayanti.' The words were out before Jack could stop them.
Mary stared at him. 'Jack! You are not thinking at all! Even if you get in, you'll never get close to her, and the second you kill her they'll kill you!'
Jack shrugged. 'That's all right. Elliot is quite capable of getting you and the men back safely. He's a better officer than I am.'
'And how about me when you are gone?' Mary asked.
'I said that Elliot would get you back safely.' Jack was unsure what point Mary was trying to make.
'How about us, Jack?'
'Us?' Jack hadn't expected that question.
'Us – you and me?'
Jack stared at her. 'I thought you didn't wish to marry a soldier.'
'Oh, for goodness sake, Jack!' Mary visibly controlled her temper. 'All right, we'll discuss this later, not in a bazaar full of mutineers.'
Even Jack saw the sense of that. He winced as his dizziness returned. 'You get back to camp,' he said.
'No, Jack. We will stay together. Somebody has to look after you.' Mary shook her head, muttering about men who wanted to be spies without knowing a single word of the language.
'We'll try up here.' Mary indicated a long narrow street. 'It leads to one of the smaller gates into the fort.' She gave a half smile. 'Come along, Captain Jack.' Turning, Mary smiled over her shoulder and stepped ahead.
Jack saw the hand reach from a doorway to wrap around Mary's mouth. He lunged forward, just as a tall sepoy appeared from an alley and blocked his view. Pushing the man aside, Jack saw another, and then a naik with greying hair and neat whiskers stood in his path.
'No, Windrush sahib,' the naik said.
Momentarily forgetting his role, Jack stared at the naik. 'You saved my life back in that village. How the devil do you know my name? Get out of my way!' Producing his revolver, Jack aimed directly at the man's face. 'Move aside, damn you!'
There were other men around him, sepoys with brown eyes and oiled whiskers, some wounded, others in smart uniforms. Jack struggled to get through. He saw someone drag Mary backwards and swore, squeezed the trigger and heard the shot.
The darkness was sudden and complete as somebody dropped a hood over his head. Jack shouted and felt somebody grab his wrist. He fired again, unable to see anything, aware that he was in the midst of a group of mutineers and only concerned for the safety of Mary.
Not sure what was happening, he kicked out as somebody lifted him. Many hands closed on him, carrying him away from the alley. Jack shouted into the stifling darkness, squeezed the trigger and heard only a frustrating click as the hammer fell on an empty chamber.
The next few minutes were a blur as the mutineers carried him inside some large building. He heard the different sound as their footsteps echoed from stone and felt the jerky movement as they ran up a flight of steps.
'Put me down, damn you!' Jack shouted. The hood muffled his words. He sensed a change in atmosphere and guessed that they were indoors, and then whoever carried him lowered him gently onto a soft surface.
'You are safe, sahib,' the naik's voice sounded and the bag removed from his head.
'What the devil?' Jack looked around him. The naik and his sepoys were withdrawing through an arched door, and he was alone in the most luxurious bedroom he had ever seen in his life.
The bed was lower than Jack was used to, and much larger, with a padded silk coverlet in vibrant red and gold. Persian carpets covered the floor while rich silks covered the walls, except for the four small pointed windows. Scented candles infused the air with a heady perfume that Jack couldn't help but inhale.
Cringing at the pain any movement caused him Jack stood up and moved to the windows. They were too small to allow him to leave and too high up even if he did. He looked out on the city of Gondabad far below.
'What the deuce is going on?' He asked himself. 'I'd expected to be taken to some dungeon or a torture chamber.' Where is Mary?
A bottle stood on a small table at the side of the bed, with a single crystal glass and a bowl of fruit. Suspecting poison, Jack ignored both bottle and fruit. He tried the door. It was locked, and his captors had taken away his pistol and Khyber Knife.
What do I do now? More importantly, where is Mary?
The door opened, and a small man with a neat beard, silk robes and a large turban stepped in.
'Who are you?' Jack backed away, searching for a weapon.
'Muhammed Khan,' the man answered at once. 'Who are you?'
'I think you already know that,' Jack said. 'I am Captain Jack Windrush of the 113th Foot.'
Khan's smile would have shamed a hunting tiger. 'Thank you, Captain Windrush. What is your full name?' He had a soft, cultured voice.
'What has that to do with you?' Jack asked. 'You've captured me, a British officer; now do whatever it is you do to prisoners.' He remembered the screams outside the camp and Keane's mutilated head and felt sick.
'If it was up to me,' Khan spoke with hardly a trace of an accent, 'I would hand you to the women to be castrated and burned alive. However, it is not up to me.'
'Who is it up to?' Jack asked.
'What is your full name?' Khan repeated. 'Be careful how you answer for your future depends on your words. If you give the right answer, then your treatment will be kind. If you give the wrong answer, then I will have charge of you. What is your full name?'
Fighting the pain in his head, Jack stood to attention. 'Captain Jack Baird Windrush, 113th Foot.'
Khan smiled again. 'Good. We have the right man. I will send in a doctor in a minute.'
'Wait!' Jack said. 'How about Mary?'
'I don't know a Mary.' Khan closed the door.
'You kidnapped her!' Jack shouted in frustration. He kicked the door, swearing. 'Let me out of here!'
'What's all the noise, Captain Sahib?' The man who entered was young, with almond-shaped eyes and a wispy beard. He carried a small leather bag.
'You have Mary,' Jack said. 'You kidnapped my woman.'
'No,' the young man said. 'Nobody kidnapped your woman. The half-caste who came with you is not in the fort.'
Jack took a deep breath. It seemed that the mutineers knew all about him. 'Who are you?'
'I am Khitab Gul,' the man said. 'Doctor Khitab Gul.'
'You speak excellent English.'
'I know. I also speak French, Spanish and Italian as well as native languages. Call me Doctor Khitab and lie back.'
'Why?'
'You have been wounded twice recently,' Doctor Khitab said. 'Once on your right wrist and once on your head.'
'How the deuce do you know that?' Jack tried to sit up, only for Doctor Khitab to push him back down on the bed.
'We've been watching you, Captain Windrush. Lie still please.' The doctor's hands were gentle as they examined Jack's head. 'Have you experienced any headaches, captain? Dizziness? Lack of concentration?'
'All of those,' Jack said.
'Yes. That was a nasty crack on the head. Your skull is not broken, fortunately. You also suffer from much nervous tension. You need rest and sleep, which you will not find inside the camp of the 113th. It's all right, captain, Lieutenant Elliot is ta
king good care of your men although Private Carruthers has gone down with dysentery.'
'How…?'
'Oh, we know far more than you realise, captain. Now lie still and drink this.' The doctor poured a small glass of something. 'It's all right, captain. It's just to help you sleep.'
'I don't want to sleep, damn it!'
'I know you don't want to captain, but you do need to.' Doctor Khitab held the glass to Jack's lips. 'It is all right, captain. It will help you and when you wake you will feel much better.'
Jack drank the liquid. He saw the doctor's smile broaden and then fade.
When Jack awoke, his headache was gone. He stretched on the bed, looked around at the room and felt better than he had for weeks. 'I could get used to this,' he told himself as sunlight seeped through the small windows to land on the beautiful carpets.
'You are feeling better.' Doctor Khitab was sitting at the side of the bed. 'Good. You do not rest enough, Captain Windrush. You need weeks of rest and sleep, not merely one day and one night. First, you need a wash, a barber and a change of clothes.
'I'm fine,' Jack said. 'What is all this for? I'm your prisoner, where am I, and where is Mary?'
'Oh, no, Captain Windrush, sahib.' The doctor salaamed. 'So many questions! You are not a prisoner. On the contrary, you are our most honoured guest in the Fort of Gondabad.'
'I'm your enemy, damn it,' Jack said.
The doctor's laugh would have been heart-warming in different circumstances. 'Would you rather we treated you like the British treat their enemies? Do you wish us to hang you, sahib? Or blow you from the muzzle of a cannon, perhaps?'
'I'm no mutineer,' Jack defended what he knew to be the truth. 'I was never disloyal to the Queen.'
The doctor salaamed again. 'That, at least, is correct, Windrush sahib. You are no mutineer, and you were never disloyal to your queen. Now if you will follow me, please?'
'Why? Is Mary there?'
'Please, sahib.' Doctor Khitab's smile didn't waver. 'I assure you we mean you no harm. On the contrary, we can help you find everything your heart desires.'
Jack tensed himself, ready to try and escape. The doctor opened the door wider, to reveal two muscular Rajputs, with long pistols thrust through sashes and tulwars held ready. They looked as if they knew what they were doing.
Windrush- Jayanti's Pawns Page 15