Sword of Empire Read online

The door opened and Bilkis came in. Her mother-in-law had never entered here before. Now she did so without knocking. But Laura still refused to take offence.

  ‘Why did you come back?’ Bilkis asked boldly.

  ‘Should I not come back, with my husband’s body? This is my son.’

  ‘You should not have come back,’ Bilkis said. ‘And with Company soldiers!’

  ‘They are a mark of respect!’ Laura cried. ‘Why are you behaving so cruelly to me? Do you think I killed your son? I loved him. You know how he played polo. He was too reckless!’

  She began to sob.

  Bilkis gazed at her, her face expressionless.

  Laura laid Sivitraj down and dried her eyes. ‘Where is Prince Batraj?’

  ‘He is away. I have sent people to find him.’

  ‘Thank you. There is much to be done.’

  ‘You should not have come back,’ Bilkis said again. ‘It will cause much trouble.’ She left the room.

  *

  Obviously Bilkis was not going to help, Laura realised, at least in her present mood. She was more than ever grateful for the presence of Guy and his small band of men; indeed, for the first time she wished Elphinstone had sent more. But if there was some attempt to replace Sivitraj as Rajah, could she not count on Colonel Mujhabi and his men?

  In any event, if that were going to happen, would it not have happened whether she had returned or not?

  She sent for Miljah, had a bath, and got rid of most of the tear stains by liberal applications of kohl, the heavy dark eye make-up used by the Indian women; against her pale complexion and yellow hair it made her eves appear huge and luminous.

  When she was dressed in all her splendour, wearing her gold bangles and her emerald necklace as well as her ring, she sent for the Colonel, receiving him in her private sitting room.

  Sivitraj was in his high chair beside her.

  ‘I sent for you to tell you how grateful I am for your assistance, Colonel,’ Laura said.

  The Colonel bowed, clearly somewhat embarrassed.

  ‘And to introduce you to the new Rajah of Sittapore.’

  The Colonel bowed to the little boy.

  ‘There will be difficult times ahead, Colonel,’ Laura said. ‘But I have no doubt that with the aid of loyal friends like yourself and the army, and with the wholehearted support of the Company, we shall surmount this tragedy.’

  Mujhabi bowed. Laura wished he would say something, but she could not command him to do so.

  ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ she said.

  Mujhabi bowed.

  *

  Laura then sent for Prithviraj Dal. She felt it was vitally important to establish that she was in control in Sittapore, acting both for her dead husband, and for her son.

  Prithviraj Dal was even more embarrassed than Colonel Mujhabi, at being summoned into the Dowager Rani’s apartments, and when Laura gestured him to a seat he perched uneasily.

  ‘In the absence of Prince Batraj,’ Laura told him, trying to sweeten the pill as much as possible, ‘whom I am prepared to delegate as my son’s representative on the Council, I intend to take that position myself. In this regard, as you know, I am presently insufficiently informed about current matters here in Sittapore. I would therefore like you to have your secretary prepare a résumé of the current financial position, and of any other matters to which my late husband would normally have attended on his return from Bombay.’

  Prithviraj Dal bowed, his hands together in front of his face.

  ‘I would like that information to be delivered to me tomorrow afternoon, and I wish a full Council summoned to meet the morning after.’

  Prithviraj bowed.

  Laura wanted to get up and shake him. But she kept her composure. ‘I know it will be unusual to have a woman at your council,’ she said, ‘but I must act for my son. Sittapore must be governed, and I intend to do it until my son is of an age to assume the responsibilities of his position. I may say that this is the wish of the Company as well. Please tell me that you understand and agree.’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon,’ Prithviraj Dal muttered, bowed again, and left.

  *

  Laura entertained Guy to supper that evening, although with sufficient servants present to make sure there was not the slightest risk of impropriety.

  ‘Are you satisfied with your quarters?’ she asked.

  ‘Mine are very comfortable. I’m a little far away from my men, but I suppose that is inevitable. But this...’ he looked around. ‘This is quite palatial.’

  ‘It is a palace,’ she reminded him.

  ‘These statues...’ he stammered.

  ‘Yes. They would shock in an English drawing room. But they represent the gods. Hindu gods are refreshingly earthy beings.’

  ‘I can see that. Laura...’

  ‘It would be better to call me Your Highness, Mr Bartlett. Some of these servants have a word or two of English, and I would not like them to suppose that we were more than acquaintances.’

  ‘Of course.’ He added, ‘It struck me your welcome was not entirely...well...a welcome. Did you know there is quite a large crowd gathered outside the palace?’

  ‘I did hear a noise. I have not gone to look at them. They are very emotional people, and their Rajah is dead. I will see them tomorrow, at the funeral.’

  ‘They were shouting and chanting,’ Guy said. ‘I’m afraid I could make little of it, but it had to do with the Rajah, certainly. And the Rani.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘You’re not concerned? What about this fellow Batraj?’

  ‘He is not here, thank God. Things will have quietened down by the time he returns.’

  ‘Hm,’ Guy remarked. ‘You don’t suppose I should send back to Bombay for some more men?’

  ‘If you think you should,’ she said carelessly. She did not wish him to know she was herself a little frightened. And besides, what happened next would have to be decided long before a messenger could bring any adequate force from Bombay.

  ‘Well, that mob out there...’

  ‘They are mourning their ruler, Mr Bartlett. It is an act of respect. If you are worried about me, please do not be. These people love me. I have always been their friend.’

  Guy could see no point in arguing further. But when he left the palace at midnight, the crowd was still there, and it seemed to him that it was definitely hostile.

  His room was in the officer’s quarters of the Sittapore army. He found Ramjohn waiting there for him.

  ‘It is very worrying, Guy sahib,’ Ramjohn said. ‘Do you know what those people are chanting?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘They are chanting: destruction to the white witch who has caused the death of our rajah.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, sahib. It is not good.’

  ‘Hm. Mobs do chant silly things...’ he came to a decision.

  ‘Do you think you could leave the city secretly, Ramjohn?’

  Ramjohn grinned. ‘I can do this, sahib.’

  ‘Then I wish you to leave, now. I will give you a message for the Governor in Bombay. I wish you to return there as quickly as possible, and deliver this message. Can you do this?’

  ‘I should take a horse, sahib.’

  ‘Take mine. Will you get out of the gate with a horse?’

  Ramjohn grinned again. ‘Oh, yes, sahib. I came in with the Rajah’s servants. None of the guards noticed me. I will do it.’

  ‘Good fellow. Ramjohn...this is a most urgent matter.’

  ‘I will do it, sahib.’

  *

  Laura was awakened by Miljah just after dawn.

  ‘It is time, Highness,’ the slave said.

  She looked, as she had for the past week, unutterably doleful.

  ‘What time is the cremation?’ Laura asked.

  ‘In the fourth hour, Highness.’

  Miljah fussed about her, bathing her and dressing her in her white sari. To Laura’s surprise, the maid had also laid
out all her jewellery.

  ‘You must wear your very best,’ Miljah said.

  Laura supposed she was right. If ever she needed to look like a queen it had to be now.

  ‘Are there still many people outside the palace?’ she asked.

  ‘There are many people everywhere, Highness. This is a sad occasion.’

  ‘Yes,’ Laura said.

  She wished it were done. But it was an ordeal which had to be undergone.

  To her surprise, once she was fully dressed and bejewelled, Miljah opened the door, and Bibi, Chandra and Indra filed in, also dressed in their best and accompanied by their children. Each bowed low before Laura, and Bibi took her hands and kissed them; all the women were obviously in deep distress, and Laura’s heart went out to them.

  Baby Sivitraj was also dressed in his finest clothes. Laura took him from his nurse and herself carried him to the front of the palace, but before she got there, she had to pause and greet each of her personal servants, who were lined up in a row, and who seemed more distressed than anyone. Bilkis waited on the porch, together with Prithviraj Dal and the government ministers. Colonel Mujhabi was there looking very solemn, supported by some hundred of his men, as well as Guy, equally solemn, with his escort.

  Sitraj’s body lay on a large bier of flowers, some six feet wide and ten feet long. The alcohol had worked very well, and he was dressed in his finest robes, his hands pressed together on his chest as if in prayer.

  Bilkis nodded to the soldiers. She had entirely taken over the proceedings. Well, Laura thought, she was welcome to it.

  A dozen soldiers picked up the bier and carried it down the steps, into the midst of the huge silent crowd gathered there.

  ‘You will follow,’ Bilkis said.

  Still carrying Sivitraj, Laura went down the steps and into the people. Last night they had been chanting and shouting, today they were silent. One or two even smiled at her, and called out to Sivitraj. That was reassuring.

  She did not look back, but knew there was a long procession of wives and notables behind her. Although it was only a quarter to ten, the morning was very hot. Laura began to sweat and shiver, and wondered how long the ceremony would take.

  The bier was carried to the banks of the Sittapore River, where a huge pyre had been constructed, consisting of dried wood to make sure it burned well, and green leaves to ensure a huge column of smoke which would be seen for miles around. Waiting beside the pyre were four men with torches already alight.

  Here too there was a large crowd, now swelled by those who had followed the bier down the hill.

  The bier was carried up specially prepared steps, and laid on top of the pyre. Laura stood among the other members of the royal family, while the priests droned interminable prayers, and the morning grew ever hotter. But at last it was done, and Laura turned to Bilkis. Presumably the old woman intended to give the signal.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Bilkis asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Laura said.

  ‘Give the Rajah to his nurse,’ Bilkis said.

  Laura obeyed, wondering what other ceremony remained.

  ‘You are being very brave, my child. I forgive you for the misfortune you have brought upon us. Here.’ Bilkis held out her hand and offered to Laura what looked like a small nut.

  ‘It is bhang,’ Bilkis said. ‘Chew it, and you will feel less pain. Inhale the smoke as quickly as you can, and it will be done.’

  Laura had no idea what her mother-in-law was talking about.

  ‘It is time for you to join your husband,’ Bilkis said.

  Laura froze in horror.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘You must,’ Bilkis said, still in a low voice. ‘Do not make a spectacle of yourself.’

  ‘Suttee has been abolished in Sittapore,’ Laura said, trying to speak evenly to prevent panic from clawing at her. ‘And it was written into my marriage contract that I was not subject to your laws.’

  Bilkis regarded her with patient pity. ‘Foolish woman. My son was an apostate, who would sacrifice all to pander to the friendship of the Company. But he is dead. And those of us who remain will have no dealings with the invaders. Now you will mount the pyre with dignity. Or must you be bound in place and die in humiliation?’

  Laura swung round. ‘Guy!’ she screamed. ‘Guy! Help me!’

  ‘She has lost her senses,’ Bilkis snapped. ‘Take her.’

  Laura was surrounded by men led by Colonel Mujhabi.

  ‘Colonel,’ she gasped. ‘You are my friend. Colonel...’

  ‘It is the law, Highness,’ the Colonel said regretfully.

  Men seized her arms, her thighs, her ankles, and she was lifted from the ground. She tried to fight them, but there were too many of them.

  ‘Guy!’ she screamed again. ‘Guy!’

  The men half carried and half dragged her up the ladder to the top of the pyre; her legs and arms and body were bumped and bruised on the steps as she attempted to fight them, and her sari became disarranged. Other men brought ropes and she knew she could fight no more. She was laid beside her husband, her wrists and ankles tied together so that she could not move, a rope passed round her body and secured to a strut of the bier to keep her from rolling.

  She could just see Sitraj beside her, his features now slightly puffy from the heat.

  She gasped and panted, and screamed again. Bibi and Chandra and Indra had climbed the steps to file past her. Then Bibi stooped, and kissed her forehead.

  Even through her terror Laura realised that had she not returned, Bibi, as the next senior wife, would have been lying here in her place.

  ‘Help me,’ she begged. ‘Somebody...help me!’ she wept in desperation.

  Bilkis stood above her. ‘With good fortune, you will be together in the next life, my daughter,’ she said, and went down the steps.

  Laura smelt smoke, and heard the crackle of flame. She screamed again, though she knew nobody could hear her.

  *

  At Laura’s first shout, Guy instantly understood what was happening. ‘Follow me,’ he shouted to his men and pushed his way forward. But the Company escort had gradually been shunted to the rear during the procession down the hill, and he had not wished to give offence — as instructed by the Governor — and had thus allowed it to happen.

  He had never supposed it could come to this.

  Now he found himself surrounded by Hindus, who pressed so close it was impossible even to draw his sword, unless he intended to kill someone.

  ‘We cannot do it, sahib,’ shouted the havildar. ‘Let us get back.’

  Guy hesitated. It was his first independent command, his first face-to-face confrontation with the reality of India. But Laura was in danger. Even had he not been in love with her, her safety was his reason for being here.

  ‘Go back,’ a Hindu growled, pushing his face close. ‘Go back, or you will all be killed.’

  ‘Damn you!’ Guy snapped.

  Then there was a tremendous drumming of hooves, an explosion of firearms, and a chorus of shrieks and yells. The entire crowd began to fall hack, running this way and that, and the small hand of red-coats was carried with it, trying desperately to avoid being trampled.

  Guy struck two men with his fist, and at last got his sword free, but by then it was too late. The funeral pyre, from which plumes of smoke were already rising was surrounded by horsemen, scattering the women and servants who stood there. One of the horsemen snatched the baby Rajah from the arms of his nurse. Another climbed the ladder on to the pyre, and with two strokes of his knife cut Laura free. Then he threw her over his shoulder, her golden hair uncoiling and drooping down his back.

  The man faced the crowd and waved his tulwar, uttered a great shout of defiance, and leapt on to his waiting horse and galloped away, followed by his men, one of whom held Sivitraj in his arms.

  Behind them the smoke billowed, and the body of Sitraj began to burn.

  *

  Guy sheathed his sword and pushed forward. The women
were still picking themselves up, aghast at what had taken place, while the flames roared above their heads.

  He found the Dowager-Rani. ‘Do you know what has happened?’

  ‘That was my nephew, Batraj. He has defiled his cousin’s funeral, and proved himself an enemy of his people.’ Each word dripped from her lips like vitriol.

  ‘Batraj? Why should he have done this?’

  ‘He covets the Rani,’ Bilkis said. ‘And the throne. Now he has the little Rajah. But to desecrate the suttee for desire of a woman...that will not be forgiven.’

  Covets the Rani, Guy thought. My God! To think of Laura in the hands of that scoundrel...

  ‘Where will he take the Rani?’

  ‘Into the hill country.’ She gestured to the north.

  ‘I will follow.’

  ‘You?’ Bilkis’s lips curled in contempt. ‘Batraj will take your manhood with his own hands.’

  ‘I will follow,’ Guy said. ‘And you, Highness, look to yourself. There is a column of Company troops marching upon Sittapore at this moment.’ It was necessary to exaggerate: he could only hope Ramjohn was on his way.

  ‘My people will fight them,’ Bilkis said.

  ‘You had better hope they have more sense. Havildar, have the mules saddled and prepare to move out.’

  *

  Laura was for some minutes too dazed to understand what was happening. She had inhaled a lungful of smoke deliberately, to send her senses reeling, so that she would die before the flames got to her. Then she had found herself, it seemed, flying through the air. And now she was galloping away from Sittapore, held in the arms of...Batraj?

  He grinned at her. He had taken her from his shoulder and carried her in the crook of his arm; she realised he must be tremendously strong. ‘You are safe now,’ he told her.

  She gasped, and tried to think.

  ‘I do not think they will even follow,’ Batraj said. ‘In any event, they will not catch us.’

  ‘But...why?’ Her brain was reeling. Surely with her out of the way Sittapore was his.

  ‘Are you not grateful to me?’

  ‘Yes. But...’ she was feeling more and more uncomfortable, held as she was tightly against him by his left arm, her thighs and legs bumping against the horse. ‘Can I not sit properly?’

  ‘Of course.’ He reined in, and swung her round so that she was sitting on the saddle in front of him. It was only marginally less uncomfortable.