Flashman and
The Mountain of Light
What happened to Flashman, the caddish bully
of Tom Brown's Schooldays, after he was
expelled in drunken disgrace from Rugby
School in the late 1830s? What kind of man
grew out of the foul-mouthed, swaggering,
cowardly toady who roasted fags for fun and
howled when he was beaten himself?
For more than a century the fate of history's
most notorious schoolboy remained a mystery
- until, in 1966, George MacDonald Fraser
decided to discover a vast collection of
unpublished manuscripts in a Midland saleroom.
Since then the scandalous saga of Flashman,
Victorian hero and scoundrel, has
emerged in a series of best-selling memoirs in
which the arch-cad reviews, from the safety of
old age, his exploits in bed and battle. Flashman
and the Mountain of Light is ninth in the
series.
George Macdonald Fraser served in a Highland
regiment in India and the Middle East,
worked on newspapers in Britain and Canada,
and has written eight other Flashman novels
and numerous films, most notably The Three
Musketeers, The Four Musketeers, and the
James Bond film Octopussy.
by the same author
THE FLASHMAN PAPERS
Flashman
Royal Flash
Flash for Freedom!
Flashman at the Charge
Flashman in the Great Game
Flashman's Lady
Flashman and the Redskins
Flashman and the Dragon
Mr American ^t' .a:;
The Pyrates K;
SHORT STORIES
The General Danced at Dawn
McAuslan in the Rough ,
The Sheikh and the Dustbin',
history ;^^
The Steel Bonnets:
The Story of the Anglo-Scottish Border Reivers
*
The Hollywood History of the World
Flashman and
the Mountain of Light
FrQ)m The Flashman Papers 1845^6
Edited and Arranged by
george MacDONALD FRASER
Fontana
An Imprint ofHarperCollmsPuhlishers
For Kath, as always,
and with salaams to
Shadman Khan and Sardul Singh,
wherever they are.
"ww
"ssf^'Si
Explanatory Note
The life and conduct of Sir Harry Flashing yc were so ^ irregular and eccentric that it is not surpri^ ^^ he ^g also erratic in compiling his memoirs, t^ picturesque
catalogue of misadventure, scandal, and military history
which came to light, wrapped in oilskin Packets in a Midlands
saleroom more than twenty years a.g g^ ^ g^g
been published in a series of volumes, this beine the ninth
Beginning, characteristically, with his .expulsion from
Rugby in 1839 for drunkenness (and thus identifying himself,
to the astonishment of literary hist^-.ns ^^ ^g cowardly bully of Tom Brown's Schoolda- y,} ^g gy v^;.
torian hero continued his' chronicle at random moving
back and forth in time as the humour toc^i-1.1-- until the
end of his eighth packet found him, aga^ ^g worse for
drink, being shanghaied from a SingapQ^g billiard-room
after the China War of 1860. Along the w^ ug ug^ ranged
from the First Afghan War of 1842 to the cjoux campaign
of 1876 (with a brief excursion, as yet unpublished, to a
brawl in Baker Street as far ahead as 1894, when he was in
his seventy-second year); it goes without laying that many
gaps in his story remain to be filled, but ^g publication
of the present volume, which rev^^ ^ ^ early
manhood, the first half of his life is aimo^ comolete' only
an intriguing gap in the early 1850s remait^g ^nd a few odd
months here and there. '
Thus far, it is not an improving tale; _d this latest
chapter is consistent in its depiction of '^n immoral and
unscrupulous rascal whose only comn^dable quality
(terms like "virtue" and "saving grace-" g ^ fy be
applied to one who gloried in having neither) was his gift
of accurate observation; it was this, and the new and often
unexpected light which it enabled him to cast on great
events and famous figures of his time, that excited the
interest of historians, and led to comparison of his
memoirs with the Boswell Papers. Be that as it may, it was
a talent fully if nervously employed in the almost forgotten
imperial campaign described in this volume - "the
shortest, bloodiest... and- strangest, I think, of my whole
life". Indeed it was strange, not least in its origins, and
Flashman's account is a remarkable case-history of how a
war can come about, andl the freaks and perfidies and
intrigues of its making and waging. It is also the story of a
fabulous jewel, and of a-n extraordinary quartet - an
Indian queen, a slave-girl, and two mercenary adventurers
- who would be dismissed as too outlandish for fiction
(although Kipling seems to have made use of one of them)
if their careers were not ea-sily verifiable from contemporary
sources.
This, as with previous packets of Flashman's papers
entrusted to me by their owner, Mr Paget Morrison, has
been my chief concern - to satisfy myself that Flashman's
narrative tallies with historic fact, so far as it can be tested.
Beyond that I have only corrected occasional lapses in
spelling, and supplied the usual footnotes, appendices and
glossary.
G.M.F.
1
'Wdw, my dear Sir Harry, I must tell
you," says her majesty, with that stubborn little duck of
her head that always made Palmerston think she was
going to butt him in the guts, "I am quite determined to
1; learn Hindoostanee."
This at the age of sixty-seven, mark you. I almost asked her what the devil for, at her time of life, but fortunately
my idiot wife got in first, clapping her hands and exclaiming
that it was a most splendid idea, since nothing so
Improved the Mind and Broadened the Outlook as
acquaintance with a Foreign Tongue, is that not so, my
love? (Elspeth, I may tell you, speaks only English - well,
Scotch, if you like - and enough nursery French to get her
through Customs and bullyrag waiters, but anything the
Queen said, however wild, always sent her into transports
of approval.) I seconded loyally, of course, saying it was a
capital notion, ma'am, bound to come in handy, but I
must have looked doubtful, for our sovereign lady refilled
my teacup pretty offhand, leaving out the brandy, and
said severely that Dr Johnson had learned Dutch at the age of seventy.
"And I have an excellent ear," says she. "Why, I still
recollect precisely those Indian words you spoke, at my
dearest one's request, so many long years ago." She
sighed, and sipped, and then to my dismay trotted them
out. "Hamare ghali ana, achha din. Lord Wellington said
it was a Hindoo greeting, I recall."
Well, it's what the Bengali whores used to cry to attract
customers, so she wasn't far wrong. They'd been the only
11
words I could think of. God help me, on that memorable
day in '42 when the Old Duke had taken me to the Palace
after my Afghan heroics; I'd stood trembling and halfwitted
before royalty, and when Albert asked me to say
something in Hindi, out they popped. Luckily, Wellington
had had the wit not to translate. The Queen had been a
pretty slip of a girl then, smiling timidly up as she pinned
on the medal I didn't deserve; now she was a stout little
old body, faded and grey, fussing over the teacups at
Windsor and punishing the meringues. Her smile was still
there, though; aye, cavalry whiskers, even white ones, still
fetched little Vicky.
"It is such a cheerful language," says she. "I am sure it
must have many jokes, does it not. Sir Harry?"
I could think of a few, but thought it best to give her the
old harmless one that begins: "Doh admi joh nashe men
the, rail ghari men safar kar raha ta "
"But what does it mean. Sir Harry?"
"Well, ma'am, it means that two fellows were travelling
by train, you see, and they were, I regret to say, intoxicated
"
"Why, Harry!" cries Elspeth, acting shocked, but the
Queen just took another tot of whisky in her tea and bade
me continue. So I told her that one chap said, where are
we, and t'other chap replied, Wednesday, and the first
chap said, Heavens, this is where I get out. Needless to
say, it convulsed them - and while they recovered and
passed the gingerbread, I asked myself for the twentieth
time why we were here, just Elspeth and me and the
Great White Mother, taking tea together.
You see, while I was used enough, in those later years,
to being bidden to Balmoral each autumn to squire her
about on drives, and fetch her shawl, and endure her
prattle and those damned pipers of an evening, a summons
to Windsor in the spring was something new, and
when it included "dear Lady Flashman, our fair Rowena"
- the Queen and she both pretended a passion for Scott 1
-' 12
couldn't think what was up. Elspeth, when she'd
recovered from her ecstasy at being "commanded to
court", as she put it, was sure I was to be offered a
peerage in the Jubilee Honours (there's no limit to the
woman's mad optimism); I damped her by observing that
the Queen didn't keep coronets in the closet to hand out
to visitors; it was done official, and anyway even Salisbury
wasn't so far gone as to ennoble me; I wasn't worth brib- -^ ing. Elspeth said I was a horrid cynic, and if the Queen herself required our attendance it must be something
grand, and whatever was she going to wear?
Well, the grandeur turned out to be Buffalo Bill's Wild
West Show1 - I concluded that I'd been dragged in
because I'd been out yonder myself, and was considered
an authority on all that was wild and woolly - and we sat in
vile discomfort at Earl's Court among a great gang of
Court toadies, while Cody pranced on a white horse, waving
his hat and sporting a suit of patent buckskins that
would have laid 'em helpless with laughter along the Yellowstone.
There was enough paint and feathers to outfit
the whole Sioux Nation, the braves whooped and kiyikked
and brandished their hatchets, the roughriders curvetted,
a stagecoach of terrified virgins was ambushed, the
great man arrived in the nick of time blazing away until
you couldn't see for smoke, and the Queen said it was
most curious and interesting, and what did the strange
designs of the war paint signify, my dear Sir Harry?
God knows what I told her; the fact is, while everyone ^ else was cheering the spectacle, I was reflecting that only
eleven years earlier I'd been running like hell from the
real thing at Little Bighorn, and losing my top hair into
the bargain - a point which I mentioned to Cody later,
after he'd been presented. He cried, yes, by thunder, that
was one war-party he'd missed, and didn't he envy me the
tnp, though? Lying old humbug. That's by the way; I
realised, when the Queen bore Elspeth and me back to
Windsor, and bade us to tea a trois next day, that our
13
presence at the show had been incidental, and the real
reason for our invitation was something else altogether. A
trifling matter, as it turned out, but it inspired this
memoir, so there you are.
She wanted our opinion, she said, on a matter of the first importance - and if you think it odd that she should
confide in the likes of us, the retired imperial roughneck
of heroic record but dubious repute, and the Glasgow
merchant's daughter . . . well, you don't know our late
lamented Queen Empress. Oh, she was a stickler and a
tartar, no error, the highest, mightiest monarch that ever
was, and didn't she know it, just - but if you were a friend,
well, that was a different palaver. Elspeth and I were well
out of Court, and barely half-way into Society, even, but
we'd known her since long ago, you see - well, she'd
always fancied me (what woman didn't?), and Elspeth,
aside from being such an artless, happy beauty that even
her own sex couldn't help liking her, had the priceless gift
of being able to make the Queen laugh. They'd taken to
each other as young women, and now, on the rare occasions
they met tete-a-tete, they blethered like the grandmothers
they were - why, on that very day (when I was
safely out of earshot) she told Elspeth that there were
some who wanted her to mark her Golden Jubilee by
abdicating in favour of her ghastly son, Bertie the
Bounder, "but I shall do no such thing, my dear! I intend
to outlive him, if I can, for the man is not fit to reign, as
none knows better than your own dear husband, who had
the thankless task of instructing him." True, I'd pimped
for him occasional, but 'twas wasted effort; he'd have
been just as great a cad and whoremaster without my
tuition.
However, it was about the Jubilee she wanted our
advice, "and yours especially. Sir Harry, for you alone have the necessary knowledge". I couldn't figure that; for
one thing, she'd been getting advice and to spare for
months on how best to celebrate her fiftieth year on the
throne. The whole Empire was in a Jubilee frenzy, with
loyal addresses and fetes and junketings and school
holidays and water-trough inaugurations and every sort of
extravagance on the rates; the shops were packed with
Jubilee mugs and plates and trumpery blazoned with
Union Jacks and pictures of her majesty looking damned
glum; there were Jubilee songs on the halls, and Jubilee
marches for parades, and even Jubilee musical bustles that
played "God Save the Queen" when the wearer sat down -r. I tried to get Elspeth to buy one, but she said it was
disrespectful, and besides people might think it was her.
The Queen, of course, had her nose into everything, to
make sure the celebrations were dignified and useful only
she could approve the illuminations for Cape Town,
the chocolate boxes for Eskimo children, the plans for
Jubilee parks and gardens and halls and bird-baths from
Dublin to Dunedin, the special Jubilee robes (it's God's
truth) for Buddhist monks in Burma, and the extra helpings
of duff for lepers in Singapore: if the world didn't
remember 1887, and the imperial grandmother from
whom all blessings flowed, it wouldn't be her fault. And
after years in purdah, she had taken to gallivanting on the
grand scale, to Jubilee dinners and assemblies and soirees
and dedications - dammit, she'd even visited Liverpool.
But what had tickled her most, it seemed, was being
photographed in full fig as Empress of India; it had given
her quite an Indian fever, and she was determined that the
Jubilee should have a fine flavour of curry - hence the
resolve to learn Hindi. "But what else. Sir Harry, would
best mark our signal regard for our Indian subjects, do
you think?"
Baksheesh, booze, and hints was the answer to that, but
I chewed on a muffin, looking grave, and said, why not
engage some Indian attendants, ma'am, that'd go down
well. It would also infuriate the lordly placemen and toadeaters
who surrounded her, if I knew anything. After
some thought, she nodded and said that was a wise and
15
fitting suggestion - in the event, it was anything but, for
the Hindi-wallah she fixed on as her special pet turned out
to be not the high-caste gent he pretended, but the son of
a puggle-walloper in Agra jail; if that wasn't enough, he
spread her secret Indian papers all over the bazaars, and
drove the Viceroy out of his half-wits. Aye, old Flashy's
got the touch.2
At the time, though, she was all for it - and then she got
down to cases in earnest. "For now. Sir Harry, I have two questions for you. Most important questions, so please to
attend." She adjusted her spectacles and rummaged in a
flat case at her elbow, breathing heavy and finally unearthing
a yellowish scrap of paper. X?"
"There, I have it. Colonel Mackeson's letter ..." She
peered at it with gooseberry eyes. ". . . dated the ninth of
February, 1852 . . . now where is ... ah, yes! The Colonel
writes, in part: 'On this head, it will be best to consult
those officers in the Company service who have seen it, and especially Lieutenant Flashman . . .' " She shot me a
look, no doubt to make sure I recognised the name " '...
who is said to have been the first to see it, and can doubtless
say precisely how it was then worn'." She laid the
letter down, nodding. "You see, I keep all letters most
carefully arranged. One cannot tell when they may be essential."
I made nothing of this. Where the deuce had I been in
'52, and what on earth was "it" on whose wearing I was
apparently an authority? The Queen smiled at my mystification.
"It may be somewhat changed," says she, "but I _
am sure you will remember it." |
She took a small leather box from the case, set it down
among the tea things, and with the air of a conjurer producing
a rabbit, raised the lid. Elspeth gave a little gasp, I
looked - and my heart gave a lurch.
It ain't to be described, you must see it close to ... that
glittering pyramid of light, broad as a crown piece, alive
with an icy fire that seems to shine from its very heart. It's
a matchless, evil thing, and shouldn't be a diamond at all,
but a ruby, red as the blood of the thousands who've died
for it. But it wasn't that, or its terrible beauty, that had
shaken me ... it was the memory, all unexpected. Aye,
I'd seen it before.
"The Mountain of Light," says the Queen complacently.
"That is what the nabobs called it, did they not. Sir
Harry?"
"Indeed, ma'am," says I, a mite hoarse. "Koh-iNoor."
"A little smaller than you remember it, I fancy. It was
recut under the directions of my dear Albert and the Duke
of Wellington," she explained to Elspeth, "but it is still
the largest, most precious gem in all the world. Taken in
our wars against the Sikh people, you know, more than
forty years ago. But was Colonel Mackeson correct, Sir
Harry? Did you see it then in its native setting, and could
you describe it?"
By God, I could . . . but not to you, old girl, and
certainly not to the wife of my bosom, twittering breathlessly
as the Queen lifted the gleaming stone to the light in
her stumpy fingers. "Native setting" was right: I could see
it now as I saw it first, blazing in its bed of tawny naked
flesh - in the delectable navel of that gorgeous trollop
Maharani Jeendan, its dazzling rays shaming the
thousands of lesser gems that sleeved her from thigh to
ankle and from wrist to shoulder .. . that had been her
entire costume, as she staggered drunkenly among the
cushions, laughing wildly at the amorous pawings of her
dancing-boys, draining her gold cup and flinging it aside,
giggling as she undulated voluptuously towards me, slapping
her bare hips to the tom-toms, while I, heroically
foxed but full of good intentions, tried to crawl to her
across a floor that seemed to be littered with Kashmiri
houris and their partners in jollity . . . "Come and take it, "iy Englishman! Ai-ee, if old Runjeet could see it now,
eh? Would he leap from his funeral pyre, think you?"
17
Dropping to her knees, belly quivering, the great diamond
flashing blindingly. "Will you not take it? Shall Lal have
it, then? Or Jawaheer? Take it, gora sahib, my English bahadwV The loose red mouth and drugged, kohlstained
eyes mocking me through a swirling haze of booze
and perfume ...
"Why, Harry, you look quite upset! Whatever is the
matter?" It was Elspeth, all concern, and the Queen
clucked sympathetically and said I was distree, and she
was to blame, "for I am sure, my dear, that the sudden
sight of the stone has recalled to him those dreadful battles
with the Sikhs, and the loss of, oh, so many of our gallant fellows. Am I not right?" She patted my hand
kindly, and I wiped my fevered brow and confessed it had
given me a start, and stirred painful recollections .. . old
comrades, you know, stem encounters, trying times, bad
business all round. But yes, I remembered the diamond;
among the Crown Jewels at the Court of Lahore, it had
been. ..
t "Much prized, and worn with pride and reverence, I am
yij sure."
* "Oh, absolutely, ma'am! Passed about, too, from time
to time."
The Queen looked shocked. "Not from hand to handT' From navel to navel, in.fact, the game being to pass it
round, male to female, without using your hands, and
anyone caught waxing his belly-button was disqualified
and reported to Tattersalls ... I hastened to assure her
that only the royal family and their, ah, closest intimates
had ever touched it, and she said she was glad to hear it.
"You shall write me an exact description of how it was
set and displayed," says she. "Of course, I have worn it
myself in various settings, for while it is said to be
unlucky, I am not superstitious, and besides, they say it
' brings ill fortune only to men. And while it was presented
by Lord Dalhousie to me personally, I regard it as belonging
to all the women of the Empire." Aye, thinks I
18
absently, your majesty wears it on Monday and the scrubwoman
has it on Tuesday.
"That brings me to my second question, and you, Sir
Harry, knowing India so well, must advise me. Would it
be proper, do you think, to have it set in the State Crown,
for the great Jubilee service in the Abbey? Would it please
our Indian subjects? Might it give the least offence to
anyone - the princes, for example? Consider that, if you
please, and give me your opinion presently." She
regarded roe as though I were the Delphic oracle, and I
had to clear my mind of memories to pay heed to what she
was saying.
So that, after all the preamble, was her question of
"first importance" - of all the nonsense! As though one
nigger in a million would recognise the stone, or knew it
existed, even. And those who did would be fat crawling
rajas ready to fawn and applaud if she proposed painting
the Taj Mahal red white and blue with her damned
diamond on top. Still, she was showing more delicacy of
feeling that I'd have given her credit for; well, I could set
her mind at rest... if I wanted to. On reflection, I wasn't sure about that. It was true, as she'd said, that KohiNoor
had been bad medicine only for men, from Aladdin to
Shah Jehan, Nadir, old Runjeet, and that poor pimp
Jawaheer -1 could hear his death-screams yet, and shudder.
But it hadn't done Jeendan much good, either, and
she was as female as they come . . . "Take it, Englishman"
- gad, talk about your Jubilee parties .. . No, I
wouldn't want it to be unlucky for our Vicky.
Don't misunderstand; I ain't superstitious either. But
I've learned to be leery of the savage gods, and I'll admit
that the sight of that infernal gewgaw winking among the
teacups had taken me flat aback .. . forty years and more _ I could hear the tramp of the Khalsa again, rank on
bearded rank pouring out through the Moochee Gate:
"WaA Gwu-ji} To Delhi! To London!" ... the thunder of
guns and the hiss of rockets as the Dragoons came slashing
19
through the smoke . .. old Paddy Gough in his white
"fighting coat", twisting his moustaches - "Oi niwer wuz
bate, an' Oi niwer will be bate!" ... a lean Pathan face
under a tartan turban - "You know what they call this
beauty? The Man Who Would Be King!" ... an Arabian
Nights princess flaunting herself before her army like a
nautch-dancer, mocking them . . . and defying them, halfnaked
and raging, sword in hand ... coals glowing
hideously beneath a gridiron ... lovers hand in hand in an
enchanted garden under a Punjab moon ... a great river
choked with bodies from bank to bank ... a little boy in
cloth of gold, the great diamond held aloft, blood running
through his tiny fingers . . . "Koh-i-Noor! Koh-iNoor!
.. ."
The Queen and Elspeth were deep in talk over a great
book of photographs of crowns and diadems and circlets,
"for I know my weakness about jewellery, you see, and
how it can lead me astray, but your taste, dear Rowena, is
quite faultless . .. Now, if it were set so, among the fleursdelys
.. ."
I could see I wasn't going to get a word in edgeways for
hours, so I slid out for a smoke. And to remember.
I'd vowed never to go near India again
after the Afghan fiasco of '42, and might easily have kept
my word but for Elspeth's loose conduct. In those salad
days, you see, she had to be forever flirting with anything
in britches - not that I blame her, for she was a rare
beauty, and I was often away, or ploughing with other
heifers. But she shook her bouncers once too often, and at
the wrong man: that foul nigger pirate Solomon who kidnapped
her the year I took five for 12 against All-England,
and a hell of a chase I had to win her back.* I'll set it down
some day, provided the recounting don't scare me into the
grave; it's a ghastly tale, about Brooke and the headhunting
Borneo rovers, and how I only saved my skin (and
Elspeth's) by stallioning the mad black queen of Madagascar
into a stupor. Quaint, isn't it? The end of it was
that we were rescued by the Anglo-French expedition that
bombarded Tamitave in '45, and we were all set for old
England again, but the officious snirp who governed
Mauritius takes one look at me and cries: "Ton my soul,
it's Flashy, the Bayard of Afghanistan! How fortunate,
just when it's all hands to the pumps in the Punjab!
You're the very man; off you go and settle the Sikhs, and
we'll look after your missus." Or words to that effect.
I said I'd swim in blood first. I hadn't retired on half pay
just to be pitched into another war. But he was one of
your wrath-of-God tyrants who won't be gainsaid, and
quoted Queen's Regulations, and bullied me about Duty
*See Ftashman's Lady. t^i
21
and Honour - and I was young then, and fagged out with
tupping Ranavalona, and easily cowed. (I still am,
beneath the bluster, as you may know from my memoirs,
as fine a catalogue of honours won through knavery,
cowardice, taking cover, and squealing for mercy as you'll
ever strike.) If I'd known what lay ahead I'd have seen
him damned first - those words'll be on my tombstone, so
help me - but I didn't, and it would have shot my hardearned
Afghan laurels all to pieces if I'd shirked, so I
bowed to his instruction to proceed to India with all speed
and report to the C-in-C, rot him. I consoled myself that
there might be advantages to stopping abroad a while
longer: I'd no news from home, you see, and it was possible
that Mrs Leo Lade's noble protector and that greasy
bookie Tighe might still have their bruisers on the lookout
for me - it's damnable, the pickle a little harmless
wenching and welching can land you in.3 J
So I bade Elspeth an exhausting farewell, and she clung
to me on the dockside at Port Louis, bedewing my linen
and casting sidelong glances at the moustachioed Frogs
who were waiting to carry her home on their warship -
hollo, thinks I, we'll be calling the first one Marcel at this
rate, and was about to speak to her sternly when she lifted
those glorious blue eyes and gulped: "I was never so
happy as in the forest, just you and me. Come safe back,
my bonny jo, or my heart will break." And I felt such a
pang, as she kissed me, and wanted to keep her by me forever, and to hell with India - and I watched her ship
out of sight, long after the golden-haired figure waving
from the rail had grown too small to see. God knows what
she got up to with the Frogs, mind you.
I had hopes of a nice leisurely passage, to Calcutta fol
choice, so that whatever mischief there was with the Sikhs
might be settled long before I got near the frontier, but
the Cape mail-sloop arrived next day, and I was bowled
up to Bombay in no time. And there, by the most hellish ill-luck, before I'd got the ghee-smell in my nostrils or
even thought about finding a woman, I ran slap into old
General Sale, whom I hadn't seen since Afghanistan, and
was the last man I wanted to meet just then.
In case you don't know my journal of the Afghan disaster
* I must tell you that I was one of that inglorious army
which came out in '42 a dam' sight faster than it went in what
was left of it. I was one of the few survivors, and by
glorious misunderstanding was hailed as the hero of the
hour: it was mistakenly believed that I'd fought the bloodiest
last-ditch action since Hastings - when in fact I'd been
blubbering under a blanket - and when I came to in dock
at Jallalabad, who should be at my bedside, misty with
admiration, but the garrison commander, Fighting Bob
Sale. He it was who had first trumpeted my supposed
heroism to the world - so you may picture his emotion
when here I was tooling up three years later, apparently
thirsting for another slap at the paynim.
"This is the finest thing!" cries he, beaming. "Why,
we'd thought you lost to us - restin' on your laurels, what?
I should ha' known better! Sit down, sit down, my dear
boy! Kya-hai, matey} Couldn't keep away, you young dog!
Wait till George Broadfoot sees you - oh, aye, he's on the
leash up yonder, and all the old crowd! Why, 'twill be like
old times - except you'll find Gough's no Elphy Bey,4 what?" He clapped me on the shoulder, fit to burst at the
prospect of bloodshed, and added in a whisper they could
have heard in Benares: "Kabul be damned - there'll be no
retreat from Lahore! Your health, Flashman."
It was sickening, but I looked keen, and managed a
groan of dismay when he admitted that the war hadn't
started yet, and might not at all if Hardinge, the new
Governor-General, had his way. Right, thinks I, count me
as one of the Hardinge Ring, but of course I begged Bob to tell me how the land lay, feigning great eagerness - in
Planning a campaign, you see, you must know where the
See Flashman.
23
safe billets are likely to be. So he did, and in settin,
down I shall add much information which I came by la
so that you may see exactly how things were in the si
mer of '45, and understand all that followed.
A word first, though. You'll have heard it said that
British Empire was acquired in a fit of absence of min
one of those smart Oscarish squibs that sounds well bu
thoroughly fat-headed. Presence of mind, if you like - <
countless other things, such as greed and Christian
decency and villainy, policy and lunacy, deep design ;
blind chance, pride and trade, blunder and curiosity, :
sion, ignorance, chivalry and expediency, honest pur;
; of right, and determination to keep the bloody Frogs c
And often as not, such things came tumbling togetl
and when the dust had settled, there we were, and v
else was going to set things straight and feed the folk;
guard the gate and dig the drains - oh, aye, and take
jpS profit, by all means.
i* That's what study and eye-witness have taught i
leastways, and perhaps I can prove it by describing w
happened to me in '45, in the bloodiest, shortest war e
fought in India, and the strangest, I think, of my wh
life. You'll find it contains all the Imperial ingredients 1
listed - stay, though, for "Frogs" read "Muslims", ani
you like, "Russians" - and a few others you may
believe. When I'm done, you may not be much clearer
how the map of the world came to be one-fifth pink, bu
least you should realise that it ain't something to be si
med up in an epigram. Absence of mind, my arse.
always knew what we were doing; we just didn't alw
know how it would pan out.
First of all, you must do as Sale bade me, and look
the map. In '45 John Company held Bengal and the C
natic and the east coast, more or less, and was lord of
land up to the Sutlej, the frontier beyond which lay
Five Rivers country of the Sikhs, the Punjab.5 But thil
weren't settled then as they are now; we-vyere still shor
no our borders, and that north-west frontier was the weak point, as it still is. That way invasion had always come,
from Afghanistan, the vanguard of a Mohammedan tide,
countless millions strong, stretching back as far as the
Mediterranean. And Russia. We'd tried to sit down in
Afghanistan, as you know, and got a bloody nose, and
while that had been avenged since, we weren't venturing
that way again. So it remained a perpetual threat to India
and ourselves - and all that lay between was the Punjab,
and the Sikhs.
You know something of them: tall, splendid fellows
with uncut hair and beards, proud and exclusive as Jews,
and well disliked, as clannish, easily-recognised folk often
are - the Muslims loathed them, the Hindoos distrusted
them, and even today T. Atkins, while admiring them as
stout fighters, would rather be brigaded with anyone else excepting
their cavalry, which you'd be glad of anywhere.
For my money they were the most advanced people in
India - well, they were only a sixth of the Punjab's
population, but they ruled the place, so there you are.
We'd made a treaty with these strong, clever,
treacherous, civilised savages, respecting their independence
north of the Sutlej while we ruled south of it. It
was good business for both parties: they remained free and friends with John Company, and we had a tough,
stable buffer between us and the wild tribes beyond the
Khyber - let the Sikhs guard the passes, while we went
about our business in India without the expense and
trouble of having to deal with the Afghans ourselves.
That's worth bearing in mind when you hear talk of our
"aggressive forward policy" in India: it simply wasn't
common sense for us to take over the Punjab - not while it
was strong and united.
Which it was, until '39, when the Sikh maharaja, old
Runjeet Singh, died of drink and debauchery (they say he
couldn't teU male from female at the end, but they're like ^at, you know). He'd been a great man, and a holy
25
terror, who'd held the Punjab solid as a rock, but when he
went, the struggle for power over the next six years made
the Borgia intrigues look like a vicarage soiree. His only
legitimate son, Kuruk, an opium-guzzling degenerate, was
quickly poisoned by his son, who lasted long enough to
attend Papa's funeral, where a building collapsed on him, ,
to no one's surprise. Second wicket down was Shere
Singh, Runjeet's bastard and a lecher of such enthusiasm
that I've heard they had to pry him off a wench to seat him
on the throne. He had a fine long reign of two years,
surviving mutiny, civil war, and a plot by Chaund Cour,
Kuruk's widow, before they finally did for him (and his
entire harem, the wasteful swine). Chaund Cour later
expired in her bath, under a great stone dropped by her
own slave-girls, whose hands and tongues were then
removed, to prevent idle gossip, and when various other
friends and relations had been taken off sudden-like, and
the whole Punjab was close to anarchy, the way was suddenly
clear for a most unlikely maharaja, the infant Dalip
Singh, who was still on the throne, and in good health, in
the summer of '45.
It was claimed he was the child of old Runjeet and a
dancing-girl named Jeendan whom he'd married shortly
before his death. There were those who doubted the
paternity, though, since this Jeendan was notorious for
entertaining the lads of the village four at a time, and old
Runjeet had been pretty far gone when he married her; on
the other hand, it was pointed out that she was a practised
professional whose charms would have roused a stone j
idol, so old Runjeet might have done the deed before J
rolling over and going to God. |
So now she was Queen Mother and joint regent with ?
her drunken brother Jawaheer Singh, whose great party :
trick was to dress as a female and dance with the nautch- ;i
girls - by all accounts it was one continuous orgy at the ;
Court of Lahore, with Jeendan galloping every man in ^ sight, her lords and ladies all piling in, no one sober for j
days on end, treasure being spent like the wave of the sea,
and the whole polity sliding downhill to luxurious ruin. I
must say, it sounded quite jolly to me, bar the normal
murders and tortures, and the furious plotting which
apparently occupied everyone's sober moments.
And looming like a genie over all this delightful corruption
was the Khalsa - the Sikh army. Runjeet had built it,
hiring first-class European mercenaries who had turned it
into a truly formidable machine, drilled, disciplined,
modern, 80,000 strong - the finest army in India, barring
the Company's (we hoped). While Runjeet lived, all had
been well, but since his death the Khalsa had realised its
power, and wasn't prepared to be cat's paw to the succession
of rascals, degenerates, and drunkards who'd tumbled
on and off the throne; it had defied its officers, and
governed itself by soldiers' committees, called panches, joining in the civil strife and bloodshed when it suited,
slaughtering, looting, and raping in disciplined fashion,
and supporting whichever maharaja took its fancy. One
thing was constant about the Khalsa: it hated the British,
and was forever demanding to be led against us south of
the Sutlej.
Jeendan and Jawaheer controlled it as their predecessors
had done, with huge bribes of pay and privileges,
but with lakhs being squandered on their depravities, even
the fabulous wealth of the Punjab was beginning to run
dry - and what then? For years we'd been watching our
northern buffer dissolve in a welter of blood and decay, in
which we were treaty-bound not to intervene; now the
crisis was come. How long could Jawaheer and Jeendan
keep the Khalsa in hand? Could they prevent it (did they
even want to?) taking a slap at us with the loot of all India 3s the prize? If the Khalsa did invade, would our own native troops stand true, and if they didn't . . . well, no
one, except a few canny folk like Broadfoot, cared to
think about that, or contemplate the kind of thing that
half-happened twelve years later, in the Mutiny.
27 ' ^
So that's how things stood in August '45,6 but m alarms, as usual, were entirely personal. Meeting Sale hai scuppered my hopes of lying low for a spell: he would se< to it that I had a place on Gough's staff, says he, beamin(
paternally while I frisked in feigned enthusiasm with nr bowels dissolving, for I knew that being old Paddy's gal
loper would be a one-way trip to perdition if the bugle;
blew in earnest. He was Commander-in-Chief, wai
Gough, an ancient Irish squireen who'd fought in mor< battles than any man living and was forever looking fo:
more; loved by the troops (as such lunatics always are)
and much sympathised with just then, when he was sweat
ing to secure the frontier against the coming storm, anc calling down Celtic curses on the head of that sensibl< chap Hardinge in Calcutta, who was forever cautioning him not to provoke the Sikhs, and countermanding hi;
troop movements.7
But I had no way out; Sale was off now post-haste to
resume his duties as Quartermaster-General on the fron
tier, with poor Flashy in tow, wondering how I could catct
measles or break a leg. Mind you, as we rode north I was much reassured by the assembly of men and materia
along the Grand Trunk Road: from Meerut up it wa- aswarm with British regiments. Native Infantry, dra
goons, lancers, Company cavalry, and guns by the park the
Khalsa'll never tackle this crowd, thinks I; they'd be mad. Which of course they were. But I didn't know the
Sikhs then, or the incredible shifts and intrigues that car
make an army march to suicide.
Gough wasn't at headquarters in Umballa, which we
reached early in September; he'd gone up to Simla for 
breather, and since Sale's wife was living there we pushec
straight on, to my delight. I'd heard of it as a great place for high jinks and good living, and, I foolishly supposed
safety.
It was a glorious spot then,8 before Kipling's vulgarian' and yahoos had arrived, a little jewel of a hill statiot
ringed in by snow-clad peaks and pine forests, with air
that you could almost drink, and lovely green valleys like
the Scotch border country - one of 'em was absolutely
called Annandale, where you could picnic and fete to
heart's content. Emily Eden had made it the resort in the
'30s and already there were fine houses on the hillsides,
and stone bungalows with log fires where you could draw
the curtains and think you were back in England; they
were building the church's foundations then, on the ridges
above the Bazaar, and laying out the cricket ground; even
the fruits and flowers were like home - we had strawberries
and cream, I remember, that first afternoon at Lady
Sale's house. i^3
Dear dreadful Florentia. If you've read my Afghan
story, you know her, a raw-boned old heroine who'd ridden
with the army all through that nightmare retreat over
the passes from Kabul, when a force of 14,000 was whittled
almost to nothing by the Dourani snipers and Khyber
knives. She hadn't shut up the whole way, damning the
administration and bullying her bearers: Colin Mackenzie
said it was a near thing which was more fearsome - a
Ghazi leaping from the rocks yelling murder, or Lady
Sale's red nose emerging from a tent demanding to know
why the water was not thoroughly boiling. She hadn't
changed, bar the rheumatics from which she could get
relief only by cocking a foot up on the table - damned
unnerving it was, to have her boot beside your cup, and a
great lean shank in red flannel among the muffins.9
"Flashman keeps staring at my ankle, Sale!" cries she.
"They are all alike, these young men. Don't make owl
eyes at me, sir -1 remember your pursuit of Mrs Parker at
Kabul! You thought I had not noticed? Ha! I and the
whole cantonment! I shall watch you in Simla, let me tell
you." This between a harangue about Hardinge's incompetence and a blistering rebuke to her khansamah*
*Butler.
29
for leaving the salt out of the coffee. You'll gather I was a
favourite of hers, and after tea she had me reviving
Afghan memories by rendering "Drink, puppy, drink" in
my sturdy baritone while she thumped the ivories, my
performance being marred by a sudden falsetto when I
remembered that I'd last sung that jolly ditty in Queen
Ranavalona's boudoir, with her black majesty beating
time in a most unconventional way.
That reminded me that Simla was famous for its diversions,
and since the Sales were giving dinner that night to
Gough and some cabbage-eating princeling who was making
the Indian tour, I was able to cry off, Florentia dropping
a hint that I should be home before the milk. I tooled
down the hill to the dirt road that has since become the
famous Mall, taking the air among the fashionable strollers,
admiring the sunset, the giant rhododendrons, and
Simla's two prime attractions - hundreds of playful
monkeys and scores of playful women. Unattached, the
women were, their men-folk being hard at it downcountry,
and the pickings were choice: civilian misses,
saucy infantry wives, cavalry mares, and bouncing grass
widows. I ran my eye over 'em, and fastened on a fortyish
Juno with a merry eye and full nether lip who gave me a
thoughtful smile before turning in to the hotel, where by
the strangest chance I presently encountered her in a
secluded corner of the tea verandah. We conversed
politely, about the weather and the latest French novels
(she found The Wandering Jew affecting, as I recall, while
I stood up for the Musketeers),10 and she ate a dainty
water-ice and started to claw at my thigh under the table.
I like a woman who knows her mind; the question was,
where? and I couldn't think of anywhere cosier than the
room I'd been allotted at the back of Sale's mansion -
Indian servants have eyes in their buttocks, of course, but
the walls were solid, not chick, and with dusk coming
down we could slide in by the trench windows unseen. Her
good name had plainly died in the late '20s, for she said it ^
30
was a capital lark, and presently we were slipping through
the bushes of Sale's garden, keeping clear of the dinner guests' jampan* bearers, who were squatting by the front
verandah. We paused for a lustful grapple among the
deodars before mounting the steps to the side verandah and
dammit, there was a light in my room, and the sound
of a bearer hawking and shuffling within. I stood nonplussed
while my charmer (a Mrs Madison, I think) munched
on my ear and tore at my buttons, and at that
moment some interesting Oriental came round the corner
of the house, expectorating hugely, and without thinking I
whisked her through the door next to mine, closing it
softly.
It proved to be the billiard-room - dark, empty and smelling of clergymen, and since my little flirt now had my
pants round my ankles and was trying to plumb my
depths, I decided it would have to do. The diners would
be beating their plates for hours yet, and Gough hadn't
the look of a pool-shark, somehow, but caution and delicacy
forbade our galloping on the open floor, and since
there were little curtains between the legs of the table . . .
There ain't as much deck clearance under a billiard
table as you might suppose, but after a cramped and
feverish partial disrobing we settled down to play fifty up.
And Mrs Madison proved to be a most expert tease, tittering
mischievously and spinning things out, so that we must
have been everywhere from beneath the baulk to the top
cushion and back before I had her trapped by the middle
pockets and was able to give of my best. And after she had
subsided with tremulous whimpers, and I had got my
breath back, it seemed quite cosy, don't you know, and
we whispered and played in the stuffy dark, myself drowsy
and she giggling at what a frolic it was, and I was begin- "ing to consider a return fixture when Sale decided he'd
"he a game of billiards.
"A kind of sedan chair.
31
I thought I was sent for. The door crashed open, light
shone through the curtains, bearers came scurrying in to
remove the cover and light the table candles, heavy footsteps
sounded, men's voices laughing and talking, and old
Bob crying: "This way. Sir Hugh . . . your highness. Now,
what shall it be? A round game or sides, hey?"
Their legs were vague shadows beyond the curtains as I
bundled Mrs Madison to the centre - and the abandoned
trot was positively shaking with laughter! I hissed soundlessly
in her ear, and we lay half-clad and quivering, she
with mirth and I with fright, while the talk and laughter
and clatter of cues sounded horrid close overhead. Of all
the damned fixes! But there was nothing for it but to lie
doggo, praying we didn't sneeze or have the conniptions. |
I've had similar experiences since - under a sofa on ;'
which Lord Cardigan was paying court to his second wife,
beneath a dago president's four-poster (that's how I won  the San Serafino Order of Purity and Truth), and one I shocking time in Russia when discovery meant certain .
death. But the odd thing is, quaking as you are, you find ^ yourself eavesdropping for dear life; I lay with one ear*. iHI between Mrs Madison's paps, and the other taking it all in;
- and it's worth recounting, for it was frontier gossip from
our head men, and will help you understand what
followed. '
In no time I knew who was in the room: Gough, and^ Sale, and a pimpish affected lisp which could belong only?
to the German princeling, the pulpit growl of old Gravedigger
Havelock (who'd ha' thought that he'd frequent r
pool-rooms?), and the high, arrogant Scotch burr that;
announced the presence of my old Afghan chum George'
Broadfoot, now exalted as Agent for the Northwest
Frontier.11 He was in full complaint, as usual: |
"... and Calcutta rebukes me for taking a high handj
with the Maharani and her drunken durbar! I must not?
provoke them, says Hardinge. Provoke, indeed - whilst they run raids on us, and ignore my letters, and seduce oiilj
seoovs! Half the brothel hints in Ludhiana are Sikh
aeents, offering our jawans* double pay to desert to the
Khalsa."
"Double for infantry, six-fold for sowars,"'} says Sale.
"Temptin', what?12 Spot or plain, prince?"
"Spot, if you please. But do many of your native
soldiers desert, then?"
"Och, a few." This was Gough, in his pig-sty brogue.
"Mind you, if ever the Khalsa invaded, God knows how
many might jump on what they thought was the winnin' nag. Or refuse to fight agin' fellow-Injuns."
The pills clicked, and the prince says: "But the British will always be the winning side. Why, all India holds your
iarmy invincible." There was a long pause, then Broadfoot
says: VsiS. ' ' ''
"Not since Afghanistan. We went in like lions and came
out like sheep - and India took note. Who knows what
might follow a Sikh invasion? Mutiny? It's possible. A
general revolt "
"Oh, come!" cries the prince. "A Sikh invasion would
be promptly repelled, surely! Is that not so, Sir Hugh?"
More pill-clicking, and then Gough says: "Put it this
way, sorr. If John Sepoy turned tail - which I don't
believe, mind - I'd be left wi' our British regiments alone
agin' one hunnert t'ousand of the best fightin' fellows in
India - European trained, mark'ee, wi' modem arms . . .
How many do I get for a cannon, will ye tell me? Two?
Mother o' God, is it worth it? Well, here goes." Click.
"Damnation, me eyes is failin'. As I was sayin', your
highness - I wouldn't have to make too many mistakes,
now, would I?"
"But if there is such danger - why do you not march
into the Punjab now, and nip it in the bud?" ^ Another long silence, then Broadfoot: "Breach of
*Native infantryman. < tCavalry trooper.
33
treaty if we did - and conquest isn't popular in England,
since Sind.13 No doubt it'll come to that in the end - and
Hardinge knows it, for all he says British India's big
enough already. But the Sikhs must strike first, you see,
and Sir Hugh's right - that's our moment of peril, when
they're south of the Sutlej in force, and our own sepoys
may join 'em. If we struck first, treaty or not, and tackled
the Khalsa in the Punjab, our stock would rise with the
sepoys, they wouldn't waver, and we'd win hands down.
We'd have to stay, in a territory London don't want - but
India would be safe from Muslim invasion forever. A nice,
circular problem, is it not?"
The Prince says thoughtfully: "Sir Henry Hardinge has
a dilemma, it seems."
"That's why he waits," says Sale, "in the faint hope
that the present Lahore government will restore
stability." z
"Meanwhile reproving me and hindering Sir Hugh, in
case we 'provoke' Lahore," says Broadfoot. " 'Armed
observation' - that's to be our ticket."
Mrs Madison gave a gentle snore, and I whipped my
hand over her mouth, pinching her nostrils.
"What's that?" says a voice overhead. "Did you hear
it?"
There was silence, while I trembled on the verge of
heart failure, and then Sale says:
"Those dam' geckoes.* Your shot. Sir Hugh."
If that wasn't enough, Mrs Madison, now awake, put
her lips to my ear: "When will they leave off? I am ever so cold." I made silent frantic motions, and she thrust her
tongue in my ear, so that I missed the next exchange. But
I'd heard enough to be sure of one thing - however pacific
Hardinge's intentions, war was an odds-on certainty. I
don't mean that Broadfoot was ready to start it himself,
but he'd jump at the chance if the Sikhs gave him one *House
lizards.
nd so no doubt would most of our Army folk; it's a
soldier's business, after all. And by the sound of it the
Khalsa were ready to oblige - and when they did, I'd be in
the middle, galloper to a general who led not only from
the front but from the middle of the enemy's blasted
army, given the chance. But the prince was talking again,
and I strained my ears, trying to ignore Mrs Madison, who
was burrowing underneath me, for warmth, presumably.
"But may Sir Henry not be right? Surely there is some
Sikh noble capable of restoring order and tranquillity this
Maharani, for example . . . Chunda? Jinda?"
"Jeendan," says Broadfoot. "She's a hoor." They had
to translate for the prince, who perked up at once.
"Indeed? One hears astonishing stories. They say she is
of incomparable beauty, and ... ah ... insatiable
appetite . . .?"
"Ye've heard of Messalina?" says Broadfoot. "Well,
this lady has been known to discard six lovers in a single
night."
Mrs Madison whispered: "I don't believe it," and
neither did the prince, evidently, for he cries:
"Oh, scandalous rumours always multiply facts! Six in
one night, indeed! How can you be sure of that?"
"Eye-witnesses," says Broadfoot curtly, and you could
almost hear the prince blinking as his imagination went to
work.
Someone else's was also taking flight: Mrs Madison,
possibly inspired by all this disgraceful gossip, was becoming
attentive again, the reckless bitch, and try as I would
to still her, she teased so insistently that I was sure they
must hear, and Havelock's coffin face would pop under
the curtain at any moment. So what could I do, except
hold my breath and comply as quietly as possible - it's an
eerie business, I can tell you, in dead silence and palpitating
with fear of discovery, and yet it's quite soothing, in a ^y. I lost all track of their talk, and by the time we were
done, and I was near choking with my shirt stuffed into my
35
mouth, they were putting up their cues and retiring, thank
God. And then:
"A moment, Broadfoot." It was Gough, his voice
down. "D'ye think his highness might talk, at all?"
There could only be the two of them in the room. "As
the geese muck," says Broadfoot. "Everywhere. It'll be
news to nobody, though. Half the folk in this damned
country are spies, and the other half are their agents, on
commission. I know how many ears I've got, and Lahore
has twice as many, ye can be sure."
"Like enough," says Gough. "Ah, well - 'twill all be
over by Christmas, devil a doubt. Now, then - what's this
Sale tells me about young Flashman?"
How they didn't hear the sudden convulsion beneath
the table. God knows, for I damned near put my head
through the slates.
"I must have him, sir. I've lost Leech, and Cust will
have to take his place. There isn't another political in sight
- and I worked with Flashman in Afghanistan. He's
young, but he did well among the Gilzais, he speaks Urdu,
Pushtu, and Punjabi -" S%
"Hold yer horses." says Gough. "Sale's promised him
the staff, an' the boy deserves it, none more. Forbye, he's
a fightin' soldier, not a clerk. If he's to win his way, he'll
do it as he did at Jallalabad, among hot shot an' cold
steel-"
"With respect, Sir Hugh!" snaps Broadfoot, and I
could imagine the red beard bristling. "A political is not a
clerk. Gathering and sifting intelligence -"
"Don't tell me. Major Broadfoot! I was fightin', an'
gatherin' intelligence, while your grandfather hadn't got
the twinkle in his eye yet. It's a war we're talkin' about an'
a war needs warriors, so now!" God help the poor old
soul, he was talking about me.
"I am thinking of the good of the service, sir "
"An' I'm not, damn yer Scotch impiddence? Och, what
the hell, ye're makin' me all hot for nothin'. Now, see
36
here, George, I'm a fair man, I hope, an' this is what I 'tt'll
do. Flashman is on the staff - an' you'll not say a word ^ to
him, mallum7* But ... the whole army knows ye've lo"ost
Leech, an' there's need for another political. If Flashm^an
takes it into his head to apply for that vacancy - an' havinirin'
been a political he may be mad enough for anythin' - th^.en
I'll not stand in his way. But under no compulsion, rnii'nind
that. Is that fair, now?"
"No, sir," says George. "What young officer wou31uld
exchange the staff for the political service?"
"Any number - loafers, an' Hyde Park hoosars - fUtno
disrespect to your own people, or to young Flashma<lan.
He'll do his duty as he sees it. Well, George, that's rT'tme
last word to you. Now, let's pay our respects to LaO.dy
Sale . . ."
If I'd had the energy, I'd have given Mrs Madisc%on
another run, out of pure thanksgiving. ,,.,;,
iW4
"Understand?
37
"I suppose ye know nothing at all," says
Broadfoot, "about the law of inheritance and widows'
rights?" ?"Not
a dam' thing, George," says I cheerily. "Mind
you, I can quote you the guv'nor on poaching and trespass
- and I know a husband can't get his hands on his wife's
gelt if her father won't let him." Elspeth's parent, the
loathly Morrison, had taught me that much. Rotten with
rhino he was, too, the little reptile.
"Haud yer tongue," says Broadfoot. "There's for your
education, then." And he pushed a couple of mouldering
tomes across the table; on top was a pamphlet: Inheritance
Act, 1833. That was my reintroduction to the political
service.
You see, what I'd heard under Sale's pool-table had
been the strains of salvation, and I'll tell you why. As a
rule, I'd run a mile from political work - skulking about in
nigger clobber, living on millet and sheep guts, lousy as
the tinker's dog, scared stiff you'll start whistling "Waltzing
Matilda" in a mosque, and finishing with your head on
a pole, like Burnes and McNaghten. I'd been through all
that - but now there was going to be a pukka war, you see,
and in my ignorance I supposed that the politicals would
retire to their offices while the staff gallopers ran errands
in the cannon's mouth. Afghanistan had been one of those
godless exceptions where no one's safe, but the Sikh
campaign, I imagined, would be on sound lines. More fool
me.14
So, having thanked the Fates that had guided me to
roger Mrs Madison under the green baize, and taken
soundings to satisfy myself that Leech and Cust had been
neaceably employed, I'd lost no time in running into
Broadfoot, accidental-like. Great hail-fellowings on both
sides although I was quite shocked at the change in him:
the hearty Scotch giant, all red beard and thick spectacles,
was quite fallen away - liver curling at the edges, he
explained, which was why he'd moved his office to Simla,
where the quacks could get a clear run at him. He'd taken
a tumble riding, too, and went with a stick, gasping when bestirred. '- ' . |||
I commiserated, and told him my own troubles, damning
the luck that had landed me on Gough's staff
("poodle-faking, George, depend upon it, and finding the
old goat's hat at parties"), and harking back to the brave
days when he and I had dodged Afridis on the
Gandamack Road, having endless fun. (Jesus, the things
I've said.) He was a downy bird, George, and I could see
him marvelling at this coincidence, but he probably concluded
that Gough had dropped me a hint after all, for he
offered me an Assistant's berth on the spot.
So now we were in the chummery of Crags, his
bungalow on Mount Jacko, with me looking glum at the
law books and reflecting that this was the price of safety,
and Broadfoot telling me testily that I had better absorb
their contents, and sharp about it. That was another
change: he was a sight sterner than he'd been, and it
wasn't just his illness. He'd been a wild, aginthe-government
fellow in Afghanistan, but authority had put him on
his dignity, and he rode a pretty high horse as Agent once,
for a lark, I called him "major", and he didn't even
blink; ah, well, thinks I, there's none so prim as a Scots- man up in the world. In fairness, he didn't blink at
George", either, and was easy enough with me, in
between the snaps and barks.
"Next item," says he. "Did many folk see ye in
Umballa?"
39
\par "Shouldn't think so. What's it matter? I don't owe
money "
"The fewer natives who know that Iflassman the soldiei
is on hand, the better," says he. "Ye haven't won
uniform since ye landed? Good. Tomorrow, ye'll shave off your moustache and whiskers - do it yourself, no nappy-wallah* - and I'll cut your hair myself into something
decently civilian - give ye a touch of pomade, perhaps "
The sun had got him, not a doubt. "Hold on, George!
I'll need a dam' good reason "
"I'm telling ye, and that's reason enough!" snarls hf;
liver in rough order, I could see. Then he managed a sow
grin. "This isn't the kind of political bandobast^ ye'le
used to; ye'll not be playing Badoo the Badmash this
time." Well, that was something. "No, you're a proper
wee civilian henceforth, in a tussore suit, high collar ard
tall hat, riding in a jampan with a chota-wallah^. to carry
your green bag. As befits a man of the law, well versed in
widows' titles." He studied me sardonically for a long
moment, doubtless enjoying my bewilderment. "I think
ye'd better have a look at your brief," says he, and rose
stiffly, cursing his leg.
He led me into the little hall, through a small door, aad
down a short flight of steps into a cellar where one of Us
Pathan Sappers (he'd had a gang of them in Afghanistan,
fearsome villains who'd cut your throat or mend ycur
watch with equal skill) was squatting under a lamp,
glowering at three huge jars, all of five feet high, whch
took up most of the tiny cell. Two of them were secured
with silk cords and great red seals.
Broadfoot leaned on the wall to ease his leg, and signed
to the Pathan, who removed the lid from the unsealed jar,
*Barber. ;
tOrganisation, business. tLittle fellow. :
holding the lamp to shine on its contents. I looked, and
was sufficiently impressed.
"What's up, George?" says I. "Don't you trust the
banks?"
The jar was packed to the brim with gold, a mass of coin
glinting under the light. Broadfoot gestured, and I picked
up a handful, cold and heavy, clinking as it trickled back
into the jar.
"I am the bank," says Broadfoot. "There's 140,000
here, in mohurs, ingots, and fashioned gold. Its disposal
... may well depend on you. Tik hai*, Mahmud." He
limped aloft again, while I followed in silence, wondering
what the devil I was in for this time - not that it looked
perilous, thank heaven. Broadfoot settled gratefully in his
chair.
"That treasure," says he, " is the legacy of Raja
Soochet Singh, a Punjabi prince who died two years ago,
leading sixty followers against an army of twenty
thousand." He wagged his red head. "Aye, they're game
lads up yonder. Well, now, like most Punjabi nobles in
these troubled times, he had put his wealth in the only safe
place - in the care of the hated British. Infidels we may be,
but we keep honest books, and they know it. There's a
cool twenty million sterling of Punjab money south of the
Sutlej this minute.
"For two years past the Court of Lahore - which means
the regents, Jawaheer Singh and his slut of a sister - have
been demanding the return of Soochet's legacy, on the
ground that he was a forfeited rebel. Our line, more or
less, has been that 'rebel' is an unsatisfactory term, since
naebody kens who the Punjab government is from one
day to the next, and that the money should go to
Soochet's heirs - his widow, or his brother, Raja Goolab
Singh. We've taken counsel's opinion," says he, straightfaced,
"but the position is complicated by the fact that the
*A11 right.
41
widow was last heard of fleeing for her life from a belea
guered fort, while Goolab, who had designs on the Punjal
throne at one time, has lately proclaimed himself King o
Kashmir, and is sitting behind a rock up Jumoo way, witi
fifty thousand hillmen at his back. However, we have sun
information that both he and the widow are of opiniol
that the money is fine where it is, for the time being."
He paused, and "Isn't it?" was on the tip of my tongue
for I didn't care for this above half; talk of besieged fort
and hillmen unsettles me, and I had horrid visions o
Flashy sneaking through the passes with a portmanteau
bearing statements of compound interest to these tw(
eccentric legatees, both of whom were probably dam
dangerous to know.
"A further complication," says Broadfoot, "is tha
Jawaheer Singh is threatening to make this legacy a caus<
of war. As you know, peace is in the balance; those thref
jars down there might tip the scale. Naturally, Sir Henr
Hardinge wishes negotiations about the legacy to b<
reopened at Lahore - not with a view to settlement, o
course, but to temporise." He looked at me over his spec
tacles. "We're not ready yet."
To settle - or to go to war? Having eavesdropped 01
Broadfoot's opinions, I could guess which. Just as I couk
see, with sudden horrible clarity, who the negotiator wa
going to be, in that Court of bhang* -sodden savage;
where they murdered each other regular, after supper
But that apart, the thing made no sense at all.
"You want me to go to Lahore - but I ain't a lawyer
dammit! Why, I've only been in a court twice in my life!'
Drunk and resisting arrest, and being apprehended 01
premises known to be a disorderly house, five quid eact
time, not that it mattered.
"They don't ken that," says Broadfoot.
"Don't they, though? George, I ain't puffing myself
*Indian hemp.
but I'm not unknown over there! Man alive, when we had
a garrison in Lahore, in '42, I was being trumpeted all
over the shop! Why, you said yourself the fewer who knew
Iflassman was back, the better! They know I'm a soldier,
don't they - Bloody Lance, and all that rot?"
"So they may," says he blandly. "But who's to say ye haven't been eating your dinner in Middle Temple Hall
these three years past? If Hardinge sends ye, accredited
and under seal, they're not going to doubt ye. Ye can pick
up the jargon, and as much law as ye'U need, from those."
He indicated the books.
"But where's the point? A real lawyer can spin the
thing out ten times better.than I can! Calcutta's full of
'em-" % i^S^''';1?"--'
"But they can't speak Punjabi. They can't be my eyes
and ears in Lahore Fort. They can't take the pulse in that
viper's nest of intrigue. They're not politicals trained by
Sekundar Bumes. And if the grip comes" - He tapped his
desk triumphantly - "they can't turn themselves into a
Khye-Keen or Barukzai jezzailchi and slip back over the
Sutlej."
So I was to be a spy - in that den of devilment! I sat
appalled, stammering out the first objection that came to
mind. fc^ - Iftsi n:
"And a fat chance I'll have of doing that, with my face
shaved!" He waved it aside.
"Ye cannot go to Lahore with soldier written all over
ye. Forbye, it'll never come to disguise, or anything
desperate. You'll be a British diplomat, the GovernorGeneral's
envoy, and immune."
So was McNaghten, I wanted to holler, so was Bumes,
so were Connolly and Stoddart and Uncle Tom Cobleigh,
it's on their bloody tombstones. And then he unveiled the foil horror of the thing.;,.? i^ ^
"That immunity will enable'"y6u to remain in Lahore Qfter the war has begun . . . supposing it does. And that is
when your real work will begin."
43
And I'd exchanged a staff billet for this. The prospect
was fit to make me puke - but I daren't say so, not to
Broadfoot. Somehow I contained my emotion, assumed a
ruptured frown, and said surely a diplomat would be
expelled, or confined at least.
"Not for a moment." Oh, he had it all pat, blast him.
"From the day you arrive in Lahore - and thereafter,
whatever befalls - ye'll be the most courted man in the
Punjab. It's this way: there's a war party, and a peace
party, and the Khalsa, and the panch committees that
control it, and a faction that wants us to take the Punjab,
and a faction that wants us driven from India altogether,
and some that hop from one side to t'other, and cabals
and cliques that don't ken what they want because they're
too drunk and debauched to think." He leaned forward,
all eager red whiskers, his eyes huge behind the bottle
lenses. "But they all want to be on the right side at the
finish, and most have wit enough to see that that will be
our side. Oh, they'll shift and swither and plot, and ye'll
be approached (discreetly) with more hints and ploys and
assurances of good will than ye can count. From enemies
who'll be friends tomorrow - and vice versa. All of which
ye'll transmit secretly to me." He sat back, well pleased
with himself, while I kept a straight face with my bowels in
my boots. "That's the marrow of the business. Now, for
your more particular information ..."
He brought out a sheaf of those slim buff packets that I
remembered from Bumes's office at Kabul. I knew what
they held: maps, names, places, reports and summaries,
laws and customs, biographies and artists' sketches,
heights and distances, history, geography, even weights
and measures - all that years of intelligence and espionage
had gathered about the Punjab, to be digested and
returned. "When ye've studied these, and the law books,
we'll talk at more length," says he, and asked if I had any
observations.
I could have made a few, but what was the use? I was
sunk - through my own folly, as usual. If I hadn't thumped that randy baggage Madison, I'd never have
overheard Gough and rushed rejoicing into this hellish political stew ... it didn't bear thinking of. All I could do was show willing, for my precious credit's sake, so I asked him who the friends and enemies in Lahore were likely to
be. Ill^^
"If I knew that, ye wouldn't be going. Oh, I ken who
our professed sympathisers and ill-willers are at the
moment - but where they'll stand next week . ..? Take
Goolab Singh, Soochet's fugitive heir - he's sworn that if
the Khalsa marches, he'll stand by us ... well, perhaps he
will, in the hope that we'll confirm him in Kashmir. But if
the Khalsa were to give us a wee set-back - where would
Goolab and his hillmen be then, eh? Loyal... or thinking
about the loot of Delhi?"
I could see where Flashy would be - stranded in Lahore
among the raging heathen. I knew better than to ask him
what other politicals and trusted agents would be on hand,
so I went round about. "How shall I report to you through
the vakiH"*
"No such thing - he's a native, and not a sure one. He
can take any letters ye may write about the Soochet
legacy, but anything secret will be in cypher notes, which
you'll leave in Second Thessalonians on the bedside table
in your quarters "
"Second where?" ^
He looked at me as though I'd farted. "In your Bible,
man!" You could see him wondering if my bedside reading
wasn't more likely to be Tom and Jerry. "The cypher,
and coding instructions, are in the packets. Your messages wll be .. . collected, never fear."
So there was a trusted messenger at the Court - and the
An agent, in this case Broadfoot's official representative in Lahore, "rough whom everyday business was openly transacted, and diplomatic
messages exchanged. ; ",
45 <
fact that I wasn't to be told who was another thought to
chill my blood: what you don't know you can't tell if
inquisitive folk approach you with hot irons . . . "What if I
need to get word to you quickly? I mean, if the Khalsa
march, all of a sudden "
"I'll ken that before you do. What you must discover
then is why they've marched. Who set them on, and for
what purpose? If it's war . . . what's behind it, and how
came it to begin? That's what I must know." He hunched
forward again, intent. "Ye see, Flashy ... to know precisely
why your enemy is making war, what he hopes to
gain and fears to lose ... is to be half-way to winning.
Mind that."
Looking back, I can say it made good sense, though
was in no state to appreciate it then. But I nodded duti
fully, with that grim attentive mien which I've learned t
wear while scheming frantically how to slide out fro
under.
"This Soochet legacy, then - it's all gammon?"
"By no means. It's your excuse for being in Lahore, t(
be sure - as their subtler folk will suspect - but it's still i
genuine cause15 which ye'U argue with their officials Perhaps even in full durbar with the regents, if they'rf
sober. In which case, keep your wits about you. Jawa
heer's a frightened degenerate weakling, and Maharan
Jeendan seems set on destroying herself by viciou'.
indulgence . . ." He paused, fingering his beard, while
perked up a trifle, like Prince Whatsisname. He went on
frowning:
"I'm not sure about her, though. She had rare spiril
and ability once, or she'd never have climbed from th
stews to the throne. Aye, courage, too - d'ye know ho^ she once quelled a mob of her mutinous soldiery, an
them bent on slaughter?" 
I said I'd no notion, and waited breathless.
"She danced. Aye, put on veils and castanets am danced them daft, and they went home like sheep
Rroadfoot shook his head in admiration, no doubt wishing
he'd been there. "Practising her trade - she danced in the
Amritsar brothels as a child, before she caught Runjeet's
fancy." He gave a grimace of distaste. "Aye, and what
she learned there has obsessed her ever since, until her
mind's unhinged with it, I think."
"Dancing?" says I, and he shot me a doubtful look - he
was a proper Christian, you see, and knew nothing about
me beyond my supposed heroics.
"Debauchery, with men." He gave a Presbyterian
sniff, hesitating, no doubt, to sully my boyish mind. "She
has an incurable lust - what the medicos call nymphomania.
It's driven her to unspeakable excesses . . . not
only with every man of rank in Lahore, but slaves and
sweepers, too. Her present favourite is Lal Singh, a
powerful general - although I hear she abandoned him
briefly of late for a stable lad who robbed her of ten lakhs
of jewels."
I was so shocked I couldn't think what to say, except
easy come, easy go.
"I doubt if the stable lad thought so. He's in a cage over
the Looharree Gate this minute, minus his nose, lips, ears
et cetera, they tell me. That," says Broadfoot, "is
why I say I'm not sure about her. Debauched or not, the
lady is still formidable."
And I'd been looking forward no end to meeting her,
too; Flashy's ideal of womanhood, she'd sounded like until
this, the last grisly detail in the whole hideous business.
That night, in my room at Crags, after I'd pored
through Broadfoot's packets, flung the law-books in a Wrner, paced up and down racking my brains for a way
out, and found none, I felt so low altogether that I decided
o complete my misery by shaving my whiskers - that's "ow reduced I was. When I'd done, and stared at my naked chops in the glass, remembering how Elspeth had
red my face-furniture and sworn they were what had rst won her girlish heart, I could have wept. "Beardie-
47
beardie," she used to murmur fondly, and that sent me into
a maudlin reverie about that first splendid tumble in the
bushes by the Clyde, and equally glorious romps in the
Madagascar forest. . . from which my mind naturally strayed
to frenzied gallops with Queen Ranavalona, who hadn't
cared for whiskers at all - leastways, she always used to try
to wrench mine out by the roots in moments of ecstasy.
Well, some women don't like 'em. I reflected idly that
the Maharani Jeendan, who evidently counted all time
lost when she wasn't being bulled by Sikhs, must be
partial to beards . . . then again, she might welcome a
change. By George, that would ease the diplomatic
burden; no place like bed for state secrets . . . useful
patroness, too, in troubled times. Mind you, if she wore
out six strong men in a night, Lahore bazaar had better be
well stocked with stout and oysters ...
Mere musing, as I say - but something similar may have
been troubling the mind of Major Broadfoot, G., for
while I was still admiring my commanding profile in the
glass, in he tooled, looking middling uneasy, I thought.
He apologised for intruding, and then sat down, prodding
the rug with his stick and pondering. Finally: j
"Flashy . . . how old are ye?" I told him, twenty-three.^
' He grunted. "Ye're married, though?" Wondering, I
said I'd been wed five years, and he frowned and shook
his head.
"Even so ... dear me, you're young for this Lahore
business!" Hope sprang at once, then he went on: "What
I mean is, it's the deuce of a responsibility I'm putting on
you. The price of fame, I suppose - Kabul, Mogala,
Piper's Fort . . . man, it's a brave tale, and you just a bit j
laddie, as my grandam would have said. But this thing," r
says he seriously, "... perhaps an older head ... a man
of the world . . . aye, if there was anyone else ..."
I know when not to snatch at a cue, I can tell you. I
waited till I saw him about to continue, and then got in
first, slow and thoughtful:
"George ... I know I'm dead green, in some ways, and
it's true enough, I'm more at home with a sabre than a
cypher, what? I'd never forgive myself, if I ... well, if I
failed you of all people, old fellow. Through inexperience,
I mean. So ... if you want to send an older hand . . . well
." Manly, you see, putting service before self, hiding
my disappointment. All it got me was a handclasp and a
noble gleam of his glasses.
"Flashy, ye're a trump. But the fact is, there's no one in
your parish for this work. Oh, it's not just the Punjabi, or
that you've shown a stout front and a cool head - aye, and
resource beyond your years. I think you'll succeed in this
because ye have a gift with . . . with folk, that makes them
take to you." He gave a little uneasy laugh, not meeting
my eye. "It's what troubles me, in a way. Men respect
you; women . . . admire you . . . and . . ."
He broke off, taking another prod at the carpet, and I'd
have laid gold to groceries his thoughts were what mine
had been before he came in. I've wondered since what
he'd have done if I'd said: "Very good, George, we both
suspect that this horny bitch will corrupt my youthful
innocence, but if I pleasure her groggy enough, why, I
may turn her mind inside out, which is what you're after.
And how d'ye want me to steer her then, George, supposing
I can? What would suit Calcutta?"
Being Broadfoot, he'd probably have knocked me
down. He was honest that far; if he'd been the hypocrite
that most folk are, he'd not have come up to see me at all.
But he had the conscience of his time, you see, Biblereared
and shunning sin, and the thought that my success
in Lahore might depend on fornication set him a fine
ethical problem. He couldn't solve it - I doubt if Dr
Arnold and Cardinal Newman could, either. ("I say, your
eminence, what price Flashy's salvation if he breaks the
seventh commandment for his country's sake?" "That "epends, doctor, on whether the randy young pig enjoyed It- ') Of course, if it had been slaughter, not adultery, that
49
was necessary, no
have blinked - sol
I may tell you tl
at stake, I'd have
answer", and wish
scoundrel.
But I mustn't ca
science saved my i
feel that, for some
So he bent his dut)
case things went ai
imperilled another
it pretty high.
After he'd finis
couldn't be said, 1
Then he stopped, 1
'See here,' says
the grip does come
and ye find yoursel
can do." He glowe
last resort only, mi
word - a password;
bounds of Lahore
shouted from the h
there'll be those w
you. Ye follow? W
He was as dei
"'Wisconsin'," I n
"Never breathe
river in North Am(
It might have be
all the good it see
there.
psj
Bte*
I've set out on my country's service more
times than I can count, always reluctantly, and often as
not in a state of alarm; but at least I've usually known
what I was meant to be doing, and why. The Punjab
business was different. As I wended my sweltering, dustdriven
way to Ferozepore on the frontier, the whole thing
seemed more unlikely by the mile. I was going to a
country in uproar, whose mutinous army might invade us
at any moment. I was to present a legal case at a court of
profligate, murderous intriguers on whom, war or no war,
I was also to spy - both being tasks for which I was
untrained, whatever Broadfoot might say. I had been
assured that the work was entirely safe - and told almost
in the same breath that when all hell broke loose I had
only to holler "Wisconsin!" and a genie or Broadfoot's
grandmother or the Household Brigade would emerge
from a bottle and see me right. Just so.^Well, I didn't
believe a word of it. ; lifti
You see, tyro though I was, I knew the political service
and the kind of larks it could get up to, like not telling a
fellow until it was too late. Two fearsome possibilities had
occurred to my distrustful mind: either I was a decoy to
distract the enemy from other agents, or I was being
placed in the deep field to receive secret instructions when
w^ started. In either case I foresaw fatal consequences,
and to make matters worse, I had dark misgivings about
the native assistant Broadfoot had assigned to me - you
remember, the "chota-wallah" who was to carry my green
bag.
His name was Jassa, and he wasn't chota. I had envisaged
the usual fat babu or skinny clerk, but Jassa was a
pock-marked, barrel-chested villain, complete with hairy poshteen* skull-cap, and Khyber knife - just the man
you'd choose, as a rule, to see you through rough country, but I was leery of this one from the start. For one thing, he
pretended to be a Baloochi dervish, and wasn't -1 put him .
down for Afghan chi-chi,^ for he was grey-eyed, had no i greater a gap between his first and second toes than I did, 
and possessed something rare among Europeans at that I
time, let alone natives - a vaccination mark. I spotted it at |
Ferozepore when he was washing at the tank, but didn't I
let on; he was from Broadfoot's stable, after all, and |
plainly knew his business, which was to act as orderly, 1? guide, shield-on-shoulder, and general adviser on country
matters. Still, I didn't trust him above half.
Ferozepore was the last outpost of British India then, a
beastly hole not much better than a village, beyond which
lay the broad brown flood of the Sutlej - and then the hot ;
plain of the Punjab. We had just built a barracks for our :
three battalions, one British and two Native Infantry, who
garrisoned the place. God help them, for it was hotter
than hell's pavement; you boiled when it rained, and |
baked when it didn't. In my civilian role, I didn't call on
Littler, who commanded, but put up with Peter Nicolson,
Broadfoot's local Assistant. He was suffering for his
country, that one, dried out and hollow-cheeked with the
worst job in India - nursemaiding the frontier, finding
shelter for the endless stream of refugees from the
Punjab, sniffing out the trouble-makers sent to seduce our
sepoys and disaffect the zamindars,^ chasing raiding jl
parties, disarming badmashes,^ ruling a district, and keep- g
*Coat.
+Half-caste.
tLand-holders.
IRuffians. I
I (^e Queen's peace - all this, mind you, without provoking
a hostile power which was spoiling for trouble.
"It can't last," says he cheerfully - and I wondered how
lone he could, with that impossible task and the mercury
at 107. "They're just waitin' for an excuse, an' if I don't give 'em one - why, they'll roll over the river as soon as
the cold weather comes, horse, foot an' guns, you'll see.
We ought to go in an' smash 'em now, while they're in
two minds an' gettin' over the cholera - five thousand of
the Khalsa have died in Lahore, but it's past its worst."
He was seeing me down to the ferry at daybreak; when I
mentioned the great assembly of our troops I'd seen
above Meerut he laughed and pointed back to the cantonment,
where the 62nd were drilling, the red and buff
figures like dolls in the heat haze.
"Never mind what's on the Grand Trunk," says he.
"That's what's here, my boy - seven thousand men, onethird
British, an' only light guns. Up there," he pointed
north, "is the Khalsa - one hundred thousand of the finest
native army in Asia, with heavy guns. They're two days'
march away. Our nearest reinforcements are Gilbert's ten
thousand at Umballa, a week's march away, and
Wheeler's five thousand at Ludhiana - only five days'
march. Strong on mathematics, are you?"
I'd heard vague talk in Simla, as you know, about our
weakness on the frontier, but it's different when you're on
the spot, and hear the figures. "But why -?" I was beginning,
and Nicolson chuckled and shook his head.
"- doesn't Gough reinforce now?" he mimicked me.
"Because it would provoke Lahore - my goodness, it
provokes Lahore if one of our sepoys walks north to the
latnnes! I hear they're goin' to demand that we withdraw ^en the troops we have up here now - perhaps that'll stan ^e war, even if your Soochet legacy doesn't." He "lew about that, and had twitted me about how I'd be
anguishing at the feet of "the fair sultana" while honest
-o'diers like him were chasing infiltrators along the river.
53
"Mind you, she may be out of office by the time you get j
there. There's talk that Prince Peshora - he's another of
old Runjeet's by-blows - is goin' to have a try for the I
throne; they say he has most of the Khalsa on his side. I
What price a palace revolution, what? Why, if I were you, ?
I'd apply for the job!" ' |
There was a great crowd of refugees camped about the I ghat* on the water's edge, and at the sight of Nicolson
they set up a howl and swarmed round him, women ;
mostly and fly-blown chicos^ clamouring with hands
stretched up. His orderlies pushed them back to let us |
through. "A few hundred more mouths to feed," sighs
Nicolson, "an' they ain't even ours. Easy there, :, havildar}t Oh, chubbarao,^ you noisy heathen - Papa'11 1 bring your bread and milk in a moment! God knows how |
we're goin' to house 'em, though - I've screwed as much |
canvas out of stores as the Q.M. will bear, I think." fc
The ferry itself was a huge barge crewed by native boat- 9s men, but with a light gun in the bows, manned by two |
sepoys. "That's another provocation," says Nicolson. 8
"We've sixty of these tubs on the river, an' the Sikhs |
suspect we mean to use 'em as a bridge for invasion. You
never know, one o' these days . .. Ah, see yonder!" He':
^ shaded his eyes, pointing with his crop across the swollen
; .<''". river; the mist was hanging on the far shore, but through it [
I could see a party of horsemen waiting, arms gleaming in the sun.
"There's your escort, my boy! The vakil sent word they?
was coming to see you into Lahore in style. Nothin' too
good for an envoy with the scent of cash about him, eh?
Well, good luck to you!" As we pushed off he waved and
shouted: "It'll all come out right, you'll see!"
*River-landing.
tChildren.
^Sergeant. ..'''-" rY'^
IShutup!
54
T don't know why I remember those words, or the sight
f him with that great mob of niggers chattering about him
while his orderlies cuffed and pushed them up to the camp
where they'd be fed and looked after; he was for all the
world like a prepostor marshalling the fags, laughing and
swearing by turns, with a chico perched on his shoulder I'd
not have touched the verminous imp for a pension. He
was a kindly, cheery ass, working twenty hours a day,
minding his frontier. Four months later he got his reward:
a bullet. I wonder if anyone else remembers him?
The last time I'd crossed the Sutlej had been four years
earlier, where there was a British army ahead, and we had
posts all the way to Kabul. Now there were no friends
before me, and no one to turn to except the Khyberie thug
Jassa and our gaggle of bearers - they were there chiefly
because Broadfoot had said I should enter Lahore in a jampan, to impress the Sikhs with my consequence.
Thanks, George, but I felt damned unimportant as I
surveyed my waiting escort (or captors?), and Jassa did
nothing to raise my spirits.
"Gorracharra," grunts he, and spat. "Irregular cavalry
- it is an insult to thee, husoor* These should have been
men of the palace, pukka cavalry. They seek to put shame
on us, the Hindoo swine!"
I told him pretty sharp to mind his manners, but I saw
what he meant. They were typical native irregulars,
splendid cavalry undoubtedly, but dressed and armed any
old how, with lances, bows, tulwars,-} and ancient firearms,
some in mail coats and helmets, others barelegged,
and all grinning most familiarly. Not what you'd call a
guard of honour - yet that's what they were, as I learned
when their officer, a handsome young Sikh in a splendid
"gout of yellow silk, addressed me by name - and by
tame.
^Sir, lord. ^Sikh swords.
55
"Sardul Singh, at your service, Flashman bahadur,"* cries he, teeth flashing through his beard. "I was by the
Turksalee Gate when you came down from Jallalabad
and all men came to see the Afghan Kush." So much for '
Broadfoot's notion that shaving my whiskers would help |
me to pass unnoticed - mind you, it was famous to hear t myself described as "the slayer of Afghans", if qujtg;
undeserved. "When we heard you were coming with the
book and not the sword - may it be an omen of peace for;
our peoples - I sought command of your escort - andj
these are volunteers." He indicated his motley squadron. |
"Men of the Sirkarf in their time. A fitter escort for! Bloody Lance than Khalsa cavalry." | s^ Well, this was altogether grand, so I thanked him, I
raised my civilian kepi to his grinning bandits, saying J "Salaam, bhai' ",t which pleased them no end. I took the I
first chance to remind Jassa how wrong he'd been, but the
curmudgeon only grunted: "The Sikh speaks, the cobra
spits - who grows fat on the difference?" There's no
pleasing some folk.
Between the Sutlej and Lahore lie fifty of the hottest,
flattest, scrubbiest miles on earth, and I supposed we'd
cover them in a long day's ride, but Sardul said we should
lie overnight at a serai^ a few miles from the city: there
was something he wanted me to see. So we did, and after supper he took me through a copse to the loveliest place 1
ever saw in India - there, all unexpected after the heat and
dust of the plain, was a great garden, with little palaces
and pavilions among the trees, all hung with coloured
lanterns in the warm dusk; streams meandered among the
lawns and flower-beds, the air was fragrant with night- blooms, soft music sounded from some hidden place, ask everywhere couples were strolling hand in hand or deep up
*Champion.
tBritish government. ^''Greetings, brothers."
|Inn, rest-house.
lovers' talk under the boughs. The Chinese Summer
Palace, where I walked years later, was altogether erander, I suppose, but there was a magic about that
Indian garden that I can't describe - you could call it perfect peace, with its gentle airs rustling the leaves and
the lights winking in the twilight; it was the kind of spot
where Scheherazade might have told her unending stories;
even its name sounds like a caress: Shalamar.16
But this wasn't the sight that Sardul wanted me to see that
was something unimaginably different, and we viewed
it next morning. We left the serai at dawn, but instead of
riding towards Lahore, which was in full view in the distance,
we went a couple of miles out of our way towards
the great plain of Maian Mir where, Sardul assured me
mysteriously, the true wonder of the Punjab would be
shown to me; knowing the Oriental mind, I could guess it
was something designed to strike awe in the visiting foreigner
- well, it did all of that. We heard it long before we
saw it, the flat crash of artillery at first, and then a great
confused rumble of sound which resolved itself into the
squealing of elephants, the high bray of trumpets, the
rhythm of drums and martial music, and the thunder of a
thousand hooves making the ground tremble beneath us. I
knew what it was before we rode out of the trees and
halted on a bund* to view it in breathtaking panorama:
the pride of the Punjab and the dread of peaceful India:
the famous Khalsa.
Now, I've taken note of a few heathen armies in my
time. The Heavenly Host of Tai'ping was bigger, the
black tide of Cetewayo's legions sweeping into Little
Hand was surely more terrifying, and there's a special
Place in my nightmares for that vast forest of tipis, five miles wide, that I looked down on from the bluffs over
Little Bighorn - but for pure military might I've seen
nothing outside Europe (and dam' little inside) to match
"Embankment. :;.
that great disciplined array of men and beasts and metal
on Maian Mir. As far as you could see, among the endless
lines of tents and waving standards, the broad maidan* was alive with foot battalions at drill, horse regiments at
field exercise, and guns at practice - and they were all
uniformed and in. perfect order, that was the shocking
thing. Black, brown, and yellow armies in those days, you
- see, might be as brave as any, but they didn't have centuries
of drill and tactical movement drummed into 'em,
not even the Zulus, or Ranavalona's Hova guardsmen.
That was the thing about the Khalsa: it was Aldershot in
turbans. It was an army.17
That's worth bearing in mind when you hear some
smart alee holding forth about our imperial wars being
one-sided massacres of poor club-waving heathen mown
down by Gatlings. Oh, it happened, at Ulundi and
Washita and Omdurman - but more often than not the
Snider and Martini and Brown Bess were facing odds of
ten to one against in country where shrapnel and rapid fire
don't count for much; your savage with his blowpipe or
gg|bow orjezzail^ behind a rock has a deuce of an advantage:
"it's his rock, you see. Anyway, our detractors never mention
armies like the Khalsa, every bit as well-armed and ^ equipped as we were. So how did we hold India? You'll '
see presently. <'-x
That morning on Maian Mir the confidence I'd felt,
viewing our forces on the Grand Trunk, vanished like
Punjabi mist. I thought of Littler's puny seven thousand
isolated at Ferozepore, our other troops scattered, waiting
to be eaten piecemeal - by this juggernaut, a hundred
thousand strong. A score of vivid images stay in my mind:
a regiment of Sikh lancers wheeling at the charge in per-,
feet dressing, the glittering points falling and rising as one;
a battalion of Jat infantry with moustaches like buffalo
*Plain. tAfghan musket.
58
horns white figures with black crossbelts, moving like
clockwork as they performed "at the halt on the left
form companies"; Dogra light infantry advancing in
skirmishing order, the blue turbans suddenly closing in
immaculate line, the bayonet points ripping into the sandbags
to a savage yell of "Khalsa-ji!"; heavy guns being
dragged through swirling dust by trumpeting elephant
teams while the gunners trimmed their fuses, the cases
being thrust home, the deafening roar of the salvo - and
damme! if those shells didn't burst a mile away in perfect
unison, all above ground. Even the sight of the light guns
cutting their curtain targets to shreds with grape wasn't as
sickening as the precision of the heavy batteries. They
were as good as Royal Artillery - aye, and with bigger
shot.
They made all their own material, too, from Brown
Bess to howitzers, in the Lahore foundry, from our
regulation patterns. Only one fault could I find with their
gunners and infantry: their drill was perfect, but slow. Their cavalry ... well, it was fit to ride over Napoleon.
Sardul took good care to let me see all this, pour
encourager les feringhees. We tiffened with some of their
senior men, all courteous to a fault, and not a word
about the likelihood that our armies would be at each
other's throats by Christmas - the Sikhs are damned
good form, you know. There wasn't a European mercenSfy
in sight, by the way; having built an army, they'd
retired for the best of reasons: disgust at the state of the
country, and reluctance to find themselves fighting John
Company. /"
I saw another side to the Khalsa when we set out for --lore siter noon, Rashy now riding in state in his jampan, white topper and fly-whisk at the high port, with assa Peking the bearers' arses to give tone to our progess.
We were swaying along in fine style past the head- vlarters ^nts when we became aware of a crowd of
diery gathered before the main pavilion, listening to
59
some upper rojer* on a dais. Sardul reined in to listen, and
when I asked Jassa what this might be he growled and
spat. "The panchayats} If old Runjeet had seen the day,
he'd have cut his beard!"
So these were the Khalsa's notorious military committees,
of whom we'd heard so much. You see, while their
field discipline was perfect, Khalsa policy was determined
by the punches, where Jack Jawan was as good as his
master, and all went by democratic vote - no way to run
an army, I agreed with Jassa; small wonder they hadn't
crossed the Sutlej yet. They were an astonishing mixture:
bare-legged sepoys, officers in red silk, fierce-eyed
Akalis18 in peaked blue turbans and gold beard-nets, a
portly old rissaldar-major^ with white whiskers a foot
wide, irregular sowars in lobster-tail helmets, Dogra
musketeers in green, Pathans with long camel guns - there
seemed to be every rank, caste, and race crowding round
the speaker, a splendid Sikh, six and a half feet tall in
cloth of silver, bellowing to make himself heard. | |
"All that we heard from Attock is true! Young Peshora
is dead, and Kashmiri Singh with him, taken in sleep, after
the hunting, by Chuttur Singh and Futteh Khan -" j
"Tell us what we don't know!" bawls a heckler, and the y
big fellow raised his arms to still the yells of agreement. J
"You don't know the manner of it - the shame and|
black treachery! Imam Shah was in Attock Fort - let him I
tell you." j
A burly bargee in a mail jacket, with a bandolier off
ivory-hilted knives round his hips, jumps on the dais, and;
they fell silent. |
"It was foully done!" croaks he. "Peshora Singh kneff'it
was his time, for they had him in irons, and bore bin before the jackal, Chuttur Singh. Peshora looked him i" the eye, and called for a sword. 'Let me die like a soldier.'
"Leading light. fCavalry sergeant-major.
60
savs be, but Chuttur would not look on him, but wagged
his head and made soft excuses. Again the young hawk
cried for a sword. 'You are thousands, I am alone - there
can be but one end, so let it be straight!' Chuttur sighed,
and whined, and turned away, waving his hands.
'Straight, coward!' cries Peshora, but they bore him away.
All this I saw. They took him to the Kolboorj dungeon,
and choked him like a thief with his chains, and cast him in
the river. This I did not see. I was told. God wither my
tongue if I lie."
Peshora Singh had been the form horse in the throne
stakes, according to Nicolson. Well, that's politics for
you. I wondered if this would mean a change of government,
for Peshora had been the Khalsa's idol, and while
his death seemed to be old news, the manner of it seemed
to put them in a great taking. They were all yelling at
once, and the tall Sikh had to bellow again. ';i
"We have sent the parwana* to the palace. You all approved it! What is there to do but wait?"
"Wait - while the snake Jawaheer butchers other true
men?" bawls a voice. "He's Peshora's murderer, for all
he skulks in the Kwabaghf yonder! Let us visit him now,
and give him a sleep indeed!"
This got a rousing hand, but others shouted that Jawaheer
was the hope of the side, and innocent of Peshora's
death.
"Who bribed thee to say that?" roars the rissaldar- major, all fire and whiskers. "Did Jawaheer buy thee with a gold chain, boroowaU Or perchance Mai Jeendan anced for thee, fornicating strumpet that she is!" Cries 01 ^haine!", "Shabashi"^ and the Punjabi equivalent of
Mr Chairman!", some pointing out that the Maharani so promised them fifteen rupees a month to march
*Sunimons.
keeping palace. K wmp.
TBravo!
61
k^:. ^
against the bastardised British pigs (the spectator in the jampan drew his curtain tactfully at this point) and Jawaheer
was just the chap to lead them. Another suggested
that Jawaheer wanted war only to draw the Khalsa's fury
from his own head, and that the Maharani was an abominable
whore of questionable parentage who had lately had
a Brahmin's nose sliced off when he rebuked her depravities,
so there. A beardless youth, frothing with loyalty,
offered to eat the innards of anyone who impugned the
honour of that saintly woman, and the meeting seemed
likely to dissolve in riot when a gorgeously-robed old
general, hawk-faced and commanding, mounted the dais
and let them have it straight from the shoulder.
"Silence! Are ye soldiers or fish-wives? Ye have heard
Pirthee Singh - the parwana has been sent, summoning
Jawaheer to come out to us on the sixth of Assin, to
answer for Peshora's death or show himself guiltless.
There is no more to be said, but this ..." He paused, and
you could have heard a pin drop as his cold eye ranged
over them. "We are the Khalsa, the Pure, and our allegiance
is to none but our Maharaja, Dalip Singh, may
God protect his innocence! Our swords and lives are his
alone!" Thunderous cheers, the old rissaldar-major spouting
tears of loyalty. "As to marching against the British
. . . that is for the panchayats to decide another day. But if
we do, then I, General Maka Khan" - he slapped his
breast - "shall march because the Khalsa wills it, and not
for the wiles of a naked cunchunee* or the whim of ax drunken dancing-boy!" 9
With that summary of the regents' characters the day's I
business concluded, and I was relieved, as Sardul led us
past the dispersing soldiery, to note that any glances in my
direction were curious rather than hostile; indeed, one or
two saluted, and you may be sure I responded civilly. This
heartened me, for it suggested that Broadfoot was right,
*Dancing-girl. ;;^.r fc IB
i. r
62
^^nd whatever upheavals in government took place - dramatic
ones, by the sound of it - the stranger Flashy would be respected within their gates, their opinion of his
country notwithstanding.
We approached Lahore roundabout, skirting the main
town, which is a filthy maze of crooked streets and alleys,
to the northern side, where the Fort and palace building
dominate the city. Lahore's an impressive place, or was
then, more than a mile across and girdled by towering ^ thirty-foot walls which overlooked a deep moat and massive
earthworks - since gone, I believe. In those days you
were struck by the number and grandeur of its gates, and
by the extent of the Fort and palace on their eminence,
with the great half-octagon tower, the Summum Boorj,
thrusting up like a giant finger close to the northern gg, ramparts. ^
It loomed above us as we entered by the Rushnai, or
Bright Gate, past the swarms of dust-covered workmen
labouring on old Runjeet's mausoleum, and into the ^ Court Garden. To the right a tremendous flight of steps
led up to Badshai Musjit, the great triple mosque said to
be the biggest on earth - mind you, the SamarkandiansJj say the same of their mosque - and to the left was the
inner gate up to the Fort, a bewildering place full of contradictions,
for it contains not only the Sleeping Palace but
a foundry and arsenal close by, the splendid Pearl Mosque
which is used as a treasury, and over one of the gates a
I figure of the Virgin Mary, which they say Shah Jehan put
"P to keep the Portugee traders happy. But there was
something stranger still: I'd just bidden farewell to
Sardul's escort and my jampan, and was being conducted
on foot by a yellow-clad officer of the Palace Guard, when
I noticed an extraordinary figure lounging in an embrasure
above the gate, swigging from an enormous tankard and
barking orders at a party of Guardsmen drilling with the "ght guns on the wall. He was a real Pathan mercenary,
| wlt" lro" moustaches and a nose like a hatchet - but he
63
was dressed from top to toe, puggaree,* robe, and pyjamys, in the red tartan of the 79th Highlanders! Well,
I've seen a Madagascar nigger in a Black Watch kilt, but
this beat all. Stranger still, he carried a great metal collar
in one hand, and each time before he drank he would
clamp it round his throat, almost as though he expected
the liquor to leak out through his Adam's apple.
I turned to remark on this to Jassa - and dammit, he'd
vanished. Nowhere to be seen. I stared about, and demanded
of the officer where he had got to, but he hadn't seen
him at all, so in the end I found myself being led onward
alone, with all my former alarms rushing back at the
gallop. "
You may wonder why, just because my orderly had
gone astray. Aye, but he'd done it at the very moment of
entering the lion's den, so to speak, and the whole mission
was mysterious and chancy enough to begin with, and I'm
God's own original funk, so there. And I smelled mischief
here, in this maze of courts and passages, with high walls
looming about me. I didn't even care for the splendid
apartments to which I was conducted. They were on an upper storey of the Sleeping Palace, two lofty, spacious
rooms joined by a broad Moorish arch, with mosaic tiles
and Persian murals, a little marble balcony overlooking a
secluded fountain court, silks on the bed, silent bearers to
stow my kit, two pretty little maids who shimmied in and
out, bringing water and towels and tea (I didn't even think of slapping a rump, which tells you how jumpy I was), and
a cooling breeze provided by an ancient punkah-wallah in
the passage, when the old bugger was awake, which was
seldom. For some reason, the very luxury of the place
struck me as sinister, as though designed to lull my fears.
At least there were two doors, one from either chamber I
do like to know there's a line of retreat.
I washed and changed, still fretting about Jassa's
64
absence, and was about to lie down to calm my nerves
when my eye lit on a book on the bedside table - and I sat ho with a start. For it was a Bible, placed by an unknown
hand - in case I'd forgotten my own, of course. ';
Broadfoot, thinks I, you're an uneasy man to work for,
but by God you know your business. It reminded me that I
wasn't quite cut off; I found I was muttering "Wisconsin",
then humming it shakily to the tune of "My bonnie
is over the ocean", and on the spur of the moment I dug
out my cypher key - Crotchet Castle, the edition of 1831, if
you're interested - and began to write Broadfoot a note of
all that I'd heard on Maian Mir. And I had just completed it, and inserted it carefully at Second Thessalonians, and
was glumly pondering a verse that read "Pray without
ceasing", and thinking a fat lot of good that'll do, when
the door slammed open, there was a bloodcurdling
shriek, a mad dwarf nourishing a gleaming sabre leaped
into the archway, and I rolled off the bed with a yell of
terror, scrabbling for the pepperbox in my open valise,
floundering round to cover the arch, my finger snatching
at the trigger ring .. .
In the archway stood a tiny boy, not above seven years
old, one hand clutching his little sabre, the other pressed
to his teeth, eyes shining with delight. My wavering pistol
fell away, and the little monster fairly crowed with glee,
clapping his hands.
"Mangia! Mangia, come and see! Come on, woman - it
is he, the Afghan killer! He has a great gun, Mangia! He
was going to shoot me! Oh, shabash, shabasW
"I'll give you shabash, you little son-of-a-bitch!" I
roared, and was going for him when a woman came flying
into the archway, scooping him up in her arms, and I
stopped dead. For one thing, she was a regular plum - and
for another the imp was glaring at me in indignation and
piping:
"No! No! You may shoot me - but don't dare strike m^. 1 am a maharaja!"
65
I've met royalty unexpected a number of
times - face to f<^ y^ my ^win, Carl Gustaf, in the
Jotunberg dungeon, quaking in my rags before the black
basilisk Ran^valona, speechless as Lakshmibai regarded
me gravely fi'on> her swing, stark naked and trussed in the
presence of the future Empress of China - and had eyes
only for the principal, but in the case of Dalip Singh, Lord
of the Punjab, my attention was all for his protectress. She
was a little "Ranker, this Mangia - your true Kashmiri
beauty, cream-skinned and perfect of feature, tall and
shapely as "^"e, eyes wide at me as she clasped him to
her bosom, the lucky lad. He didn't know when he was
well off, though, for he slapped her face and yelled: I
"Set me d^vvn, woman! Who bade thee interfere? Let'
me go!"
I'd have walloped the tyke, but after another searching
glance at me she set him down and stepped back, adjusting
her veil v'h a little coquettish toss of her head - evec
with my panic still subsiding I thought, aha! here's
another who "tiicies Flash at short notice. The ungrateful
infant gave b^r a push for luck, straightened his shoulders,
and made me a jerky bow, hand over heart, royal as
bedamned in his l^ie aigretted turban and gold coat.
"I am Dap Singh. You are Flashman bahadur, At
famous soldier. t^ ^ ggg y^ gyp,,,
I resisted W impulse to tan his backside, and bowed it
turn. "Forgive me, maharaj'. I would not have drawn it in
your presence, but you took me unawares."
"No, I dkta't!" cries he, grinning. "You move as the
66 r'; i
cobra strikes, too quickly to see! Oh, it was fine, and you
st be the bravest soldier in the world - now, your gun!" '""Mabaraj', you forget yourself!" Mangla's voice was
harp, and not at all humble. "You have not given proper welcome to the English lord sahib - and it is unmannerly
to burst in on him, instead of receiving him in durbar.*
What will he think of us?" Meaning, what does he think
of me, to judge from another glance of those fine gazelle
eyes. I gave her my gallant leer, and hastened to toady her
overlord.
"His majesty honours me. But will you not sit,
maharaj', and your lady also?"
"Lady?" He stared and laughed. "Why, she's a slave!
Aren't you, Mangia?"
"Your mother's slave, maharaj'," says she coldly.
"Not yours."
"Then go and wait on my mother!" cries the pup, not
meeting her eye. "I wish to speak with Flashman bahadur."
You could see her itching to upend him, but after a
moment she gave him a deep salaam and me a last
appraisal, up and down, which I returned, admiring her
graceful carriage as she swayed out, while the little pest
tried to disarm me. I told him firmly that a soldier never
gives his weapon to anyone, but that I'd hold it for him to
see, if he showed me his sword in the same way. So he did,
and then stared at my pepperbox19, mouth open.
"When I am a man," says he, "I shall be a soldier of
the Sirkar, and have such a gun."
I asked, why the British Army and not the Khalsa, and
he shook his head. "The Khalsa are mutinous dogs.
Besides, the British are the best soldiers in the world, ^enan Khan says."
- what ', as Flashman employs it, means variously an audience of
on" tyl the durbar room in which audience is given, and the Punjab
government (e.g. "Lahore durbar"). ^.<
67
"Who's Zeenan Khan?"
"One of my grooms. He was flank-manfirst-squadronfifthBengalCavalryGeneralSaleSahibinAfghanistan."

Rattled out as Zeenan must have taught him. He pointed
at me. "He saw you at Jallalabad Fort, and told me how
you slew the Muslims. He has only one arm, and no pinshun."
Now that's a pension we'll see paid, with arrears, thinks
I: an ex-sowar of Bengal Cavalry who has a king's ear is
worth a few chips a month. I asked if I could meet Zeenan
Khan.
"If you like, but he talks a lot, and always the same
story of the Ghazi he killed at Teizin. Did you kill many
Ghazis? Tell me about them!"
So I lied for a few minutes, and the bloodthirsty little
brute revelled in every decapitation, eyes fixed on me, his
small face cupped in his hands. Then he sighed and said
his Uncle Jawaheer must be mad.
"He wants to fight the British. Bhai Ram says he's a
fool - that an ant can't fight an elephant. But my uncle
says we must, or you will steal my country from me."
"Your uncle is mistaken," says diplomatic Flashy. "If
that were true, would I be here in peace? No - I'd have a
sword!" ;
"You have a gun," he pointed out gravely. - - n i
"That's a gift," says I, inspired, "which I'll present to a, friend of mine, when I leave Lahore." |
"You have friends in Lahore?" says he, frowning, i
"I have now," says I, winking at him, and after a'
moment his jaw dropped, and he squealed with glee. Gad,
wasn't I doing my country's work, though?
"I shall have it! That gun? Oh! Oh!" He hugged himself,
capering. "And will you teach me your war-cry? You
know, the great shout you gave just now, when I ran in
with my sword?" The small face puckered as he tried to
say it: "Wee ... ska ... see . . .?"
I was baffled - and then it dawned: Wisconsin. Gad, my
instinct for self-preservation must be working well, for me
to squeal that without realising it. "Oh, that was nothing,
inabaraj'. Tell you what, though - I'll teach you to
shoot." S^
"You will? With that gun?" He sighed ecstatically.
"Then I shall be able to shoot Lal Singh!"
I remembered the name - a general, the Maharani's
lover.
"Who's Lal Singh, maharaj'?" 
He shrugged. "Oh, one of my mother's bed-men."
Seven years old, mark you. "He hates me, I can't tell
why. All her other bed-men like me, and give me sweets
and toys." He shook his head in perplexity, hopping on
one leg, no doubt to assist thought. "I wonder why she
has so many bed-men? Ever so many "
"Cold feet, I dare say ... look, younker - maharaj', I
mean - hadn't you better be running along? Mangia will
be-"
"Mangia has bed-men, too," insists this fount of
scandal. "But Uncle Jawaheer is her favourite. Do you
know what Lady Eneela says they do?" He left off hopping,
and took a deep breath. "Lady Eneela says they "
Fortunately, before my delicacy could receive its death
blow, Mangia suddenly reappeared, quite composed considering
she'd plainly had her ear at the keyhole, and
informed his garrulous majesty peremptorily that his
mother commanded him to the durbar room. He pouted
and kicked his heels, but finally submitted, exchanged
salaams, and allowed her to shoo him into the passage. To my surprise, she didn't follow, but closed the door and
faced me, mighty cool - she didn't look at all like a slavegirl,
and she didn't talk like one.
"His majesty speaks as children do," says she. "You wll not mind him. Especially what he says of his uncle,
Wazir Jawaheer Singh."
No "sahib", or downcast eyes, or humble tone, you
notice. I took her in, from the dainty Persian slippers and
69
t-:' 'Sf
tight silk trousers to the well-filled bodice and the calm lovely face framed by the flimsy head veil, and moved uo
for a closer view.
"I care nothing about your Wazir, little Mangia"
smiles I. "But if our small tyrant speaks true ... I envy
him."
"Jawaheer is not a man to be envied," says she, watching
me with those insolent gazelle eyes, and a drift of her
perfume reached me - heady stuff, these slave-girls use. I
reached out and drew a glossy black tress from beneath
the veil, and she didn't blink; I stroked her cheek with it,
and she smiled, a provocative parting of the lips.
"Besides, envy is the last deadly sin I'd expect from Hash- man bahadur."
"But you can guess the first^an't you?" says I, and
gathered her smoothly in by tit and buttock, not omitting
a chaste salute on the lips, to which the coy little creature
responded by slipping her hand down between us, taking
hold, and thrusting her tongue halfway down my throat . at which point that infernal brat Dalip began hacking at
the door, clamouring for attention.
"To hell with him!" growls I, thoroughly engrossed,
and for a moment she teased with hand and tongue before
pulling her trembling softness away, panting bright-eyed.
"Yes, I know the first," she murmurs, taking a last fond
stroke, "but this is not the time -"
"Ain't it, by God? Never mind the pup - he'll go away,
he'U get tired "
"It is not that." She pushed her hands against my chest,
pouting and shaking her head. "My mistress would never
forgive me." ^ |
"Your mistress? What the blazes -?" rl
"Oh, you will see." She disengaged my hands, with a
pretty little grimace as that whining whelp kicked and
yammered at the panels. "Be patient, Flashman bahadur
- remember, the servant may sup last, but she sups
longest." Her tongue flickered at my lips again, and then
} 70
ha<^ slipped out' dosing the door to the accompani- . of. shrill childish reproaches, leaving me most randily
B01 ,*,at;ed - but in better trim than I'd been for days.
There's nothing like a brisk overhaul of a sporty female,
th thi certainty of a treat in store, for putting one in
temper,- And it goes to show - whiskers ain't everything.
I was*!*'1 allowed to spend long in lustful contemplation,
though; ^or who should loaf in now but the bold Jassa,
looking nt for treason, and no whit put out when I damned
his eye;s aa^ demanded where he'd been. "About the husoor'^ business," was all the answer I got, while he took
a wary prowl through the two rooms, prodding a hanging
here anid tapping a panel there, and remarking that these
Hindoo swine did themselves uncommon well. Then he
motioned me out on to the little balcony, took a glance up
and down, and says softly: "Thou has seen the little raja,
then - aind his mother's pimp?"
"What the devil d'ye mean?"
"Speak low, husoor. The woman Mangia - Mai
Jeendan's spy and partner in all mischief. A slave - that
stands by her mistress's purdah in durbar, and speaks for
her. Ayie, and makes policy on her own account, and isyg grown the richest woman in Lahore. Think on that,^8 husoor. She is Jawaheer's whore - and betrayer, like
enough. Not a doubt but she was sent to scout thee ... for
whatever purposes." He grinned his evil, pockmarked
grin, and cut me off before I could speak.
"Husoor, we are together in this business, thou and I. If
I am blunt, take it not amiss, but harken. They will come
at thee all ways, these folk. If some have sleek limbs and
plump breasts, why then . . . take thy pleasure, if thou'rt
so minded," says this generous ruffian, -'but remember
always what they are. Now ... I shall be here and there
awhile. Others will come presently to woo thee- not so
well favoured as Mangia, alas!"
Well, idamn his impudence - and thank God for him.
And he was right. For the next hour Flashy's apartments
&. 71 ::;.,:
were like London Bridge Station in Canterbury week
First arrival was a tall, stately, ancient grandee, splendidly
attired and straight from a Persian print. He came alone
coldly begging my pardon for his intrusion, and keeping
an ear cocked; damned uneasy he seemed. His name was
Dewan Dinanath, familiar to me from Broadfoot's packets,
where he was listed as an influential Court adviser,
inclined to the peace party, but a weathercock. His business
was simple: did the Sirkar intend to return the
Soochet fortune to the Court of Lahore? I said that would
not be known until I'd reported to Calcutta, where the
decision would be taken, and he eyed me with bleak
disapproval.
"I have enjoyed Major Broadfoot's confidence in the
past," sniffs he. "You may have equal confidence in me."
Both of which were damned lies. "This treasure is vast,
and its return might be a precedent for other Punjab
monies at present in the ... ah, care of the British
authorities. In the hands of our government, these funds
would have a stabilising effect." They'd help Jawaheer
and Jeendan to keep the Khalsa happy, he meant. "A
word in season to me, of Hardinge sahib's intentions . .,_
"I'm sorry, sir," says I. "I'm only an advocate."; . H
"A young advocate," snaps he, "should study conciliation
as well as law. It is to go to Goolab, is it?"
"Or Soochet Singh's widow. Or the Maharaja's government.
Unless it is retained by Calcutta, for the time being.
That's all I can tell you, sir, I'm afraid." , ,
He didn't like me, I could see, and might well have told
me so, but a sound caught his ear, and he was through into my bedchamber like an elderly whippet. I heard the door
close as my next unexpected guests arrived: two other
grave seniors. Fakir Azizudeen, a tough, shrewd-looking heavyweight, and Bhai Ram Singh, portly, jovial, and|
bespectacled - staunch men of the peace party, according;
to the packets. Bhai Ram was the one who thought Jawaj
heer a fool, according to little Dalip.
72 |
^.s.--'
Me opened the ball, with genial compliments about my
, uag service. "But now you come to us in another
i^acity ... as an advocate. Still of the Army, but in car. Broadfoot's service." He twinkled at me, stroking
r white beard. Well, he probably knew the colour of Feoree's drawers, too. I explained that I'd been studying
law at home --
"At the Inns of Court, perhaps?"
"No, sir - firm in Chancery Lane. I hope to read for the
Bar some day."
"Excellent," purrs Bhai Ram, beaming. "I have a little
law, myself." I'll lay you do, thinks I, bracing myself.
Sure enough, out came the legal straight left. "I have
been asking myself what difficulty might arise, if in this
Soochet business, it should prove that the widow had a
coparcener." He smiled at me inquiringly, and I looked
baffled, and asked how that could possibly affect matters.
"I do not know," says he blandly. "That is why I ask
|you."
"Well, sir," says I, puzzled, "the answer is that h don'tgj
apply, you see. If the lady were Soochet's descendant, and
had a sister - a female in the same degree, that is - then
they'd take together. As coparceners. But she's his widow, so the question doesn't arise." So put that in your
pipe and smoke it, old Cheeryble; I hadn't sat up in Simian with towel round my head for nothing. ;J
He regarded me ruefully, and sighed, with a shrug to
Fakir Azizudeen, who promptly exploded.
"So he is a lawyer, then! Did you expect Broadfoot to
send a farmer? As if this legacy matters! We know it does
not, and so does he!" This with a gesture at me. He
leaned forward. "Why are you here, sahib? Is it to take up
"me, with this legal folly? To whet the hopes of that
drunken fool Jawaheer "
^Gently, gently," Bhai Ram reproved him. ?.:
"Gently - on the brink of war? When the Five Rivers ^e like to run red?" He swung angrily on me. "Let us
73
talk like sane men, in God's name! What is in the mind of
the Maiki lat7* Does he wait to be given an excuse for
bringing his bayonets across the Sutlej? If so, can he doubt
it will be given him? Then why does he not come now and
settle it at a blow? Forget your legacy, sahib, and tell
us that!"
He was an angry one this, and the first straight speaker
I'd met in the Punjab. I could have fobbed him as I had
Dinanath, but there was no point. "Hardinge sahib hopes
for peace in the Punjab," says I. He glared at me. '
"Then tell him he hopes in vain!" snarls he. "Those
madmen at Maian Mir will see to it! Convince him of that,
sahib, and your journey will not have been wasted!" And
on that he stalked out, by way of the bedroom.20 Bhai
Ram sighed and shook his head.
"An honest man, but impetuous. Forgive his rudeness, '
Flashman sahib - and my own impertinence." He chuc- ::
kled. "Coparceners! Hee-hee! I will not embarrass you by i
straining your recollection of Bracton and Blackstone on |
inheritance." He heaved himself up, and set a chubby
hand on my arm. "But I will say this. Whatever your
purpose here - oh, the legacy, of course! - do what you
can for us." He regarded me gravely. "It will be a British
Punjab in the end - that is certain. Let us try to achieve it
with as little pain as may be." He smiled wanly. "It will
bring order, but little profit for the Company. I am
ungenerous enough to wonder if that is why Lord
Hardinge seems so reluctant." |
..He tooled off through the bedroom, but paused at the
door.
"Forgive me - but this Pathan orderly of yours . . . yoiy
have known him long?" J
Startled, I said, not long, but that he was a picked man' '
He nodded. "Just so ... would it be forward of me to
offer the additional services of two men of my own?" ?
*Lit. "Lord of the land", i.e. Sir Henry Hardinge.
74
precaution^	^.doubt ... but yoltf safety is important.
They wotfl<W<i	| be discreet, of course."
You ma^	ige that this put the ^nd up me like a full
gale - if ?	is wuy old stick thought I was in danger, that
was enoug^	, for me. I was sure he meant me no harm;
Broadfoot ^	bad marked him A3. So, affecting nonchalance,
HiH	said I'd be most obliged, while assuring him I
felt as safe ii	in Lahore as I would in Calcutta or London or
WisconsilW	even, ha-ha. He gave me a puzzled look, said
he would s4 I	x to it, and left me in a rare sweat of anxiety,
which was if	nterrupted by my final visitor.
fat and unctuous villain with oily eyes, one Tej
Hewas^lia
Singh wh<^ waddled in with a couple of flunkeys, greeting
-- .. jW.. JRIjf j> n ^An/iir_f/t1/ll q- _ ha (?t/"l-*+A/^ Oft AM/"fTM *"! t (?
ly as a fellow-soldier - he sported an enormous
me effusi^
iewelled S^"' ^re over a m^lta^y coat crusted with bullion,
his insigni^ls' as a Khalsa general. He was full of my Afghan
exploits a^l d insisted on presenting me with a superb silk
robe - not (i I1"1  dress of honour, he explained fawning,
but rather <b more P"^"^ in the sultry heat. He was such a
toad I woW ldered if the robe was ^soned, but after he'd
Heeped lii^' way out' ^"""S me of his undying friendship
andhomft^ e;Id?ded hewas Just hopping dash where
he thought^ g, good' A fine garment it was, too; I
peeled d(A' m s"1 donn^ it, enjoying its silky coolness
while I re% ed on the affairs of the day
Broadfo^ I >tandjassa had been ^ght: I was receiving
atteZn ^ S^^0' peo^- ^at struck me was
f.,,_ t r--r--- nrimi suiha me was
CunSiri wasn't even here y61' ^"^y-and
' ntl1 T ^ been Presented in durbar, but they'd
sparrows to crximbs. Most of their
their impa^	; until I'd hp7,, '",. ^ yet, officially, and
wouldn't IV;^	ing Uke s^aSn^T^ in (lurbar' but they'd
come floc^l	r^ ^TTOWS.0 ^mbs. Most of their
motives ^	reccedKS^^through the legacy
sham, and ^	"ringZ?t^^ ear tTpetBut
it was reilA	> Khalsa big-w?o^ e"8-^0 worth cultlvatmg -
Tej Singh, ^	hadn't shownlch ^ly; if that damned old
Bhai Ram ^	cheery altogether W^T1 for my safety' rd
have been %	' '"' I had more news for
	75
ifCSii
(SB
Broadfoot, for what it was worth; at this rate, Second
Thessalonians was going to take some traffic. I ambled
through to the bedside table, picked up the Bible - and
dropped it in surprise.
The note I'd placed in it a bare two hours earlier was
gone. And since I'd never left the room, Broadfoot's
mysterious messenger must be one of those who had
called on me. fl
Jassa was my first thought, instantly dismissed - George
would have told me, in his case. Dinanath and Fakir
Azizudeen had each passed alone through my bedroom
. . . but they seemed most unlikely. Tej Singh hadn't been
out of sight, but I couldn't swear to his flunkeys - or the
two little maids. Little Dalip was impossible, Bhai Ram
hadn't been near my bedside, nor had Mangia, worse luck
. . . could she have sneaked in unobserved while I was
with Dalip, beyond the arch? I sifted the whole thing
while I ate a solitary supper, hoping it was Mangia, and
wondering if she'd be back presently ... it was going to be
a lonely night, and I cursed the Indian protocol that kept
me in purdah, so to speak, until I was summoned to durbar,
probably next day. '
It was dark outside now, but the maids (working
tandem to avoid molestation, no doubt) had lit the lamps,
and the moths were fluttering at the mosquito curtain as I
settled down with Crotchet Castle, enjoying for the hundredth
time the passage where old Folliott becomes
agitated in the presence of bare-arsed statues of Venus
. . . which set me thinking of Mangia again, and I was idly
wondering which of the ninety-seven positions taught me
by Fetnab would suit her best, when I became aware that
the punkah had stopped.
The old bastard's caulked out again, thinks I, and hollered,
without result, so I rolled up, seized my crop, and,
strode forth to give him an enjoyable leathering. But his^ mat was empty, and so was the passage, stretching away to,
the far stairs, with only a couple of lamps shining faint in|
76
the eloom. I called for Jassa; nothing but a hollow echo. I
stood a moment; it was damned quiet, not a sound
anywhere, and for the first time my silk robe felt chill
against my skin.
I went inside again, and listened, but apart from the
faint pitter of the moths at the screen, no sound at all. To
be sure, the Kwabagh was a big place, and I'd no notion
where I was within it, but you'd have expected some noise
distant voices, or music. I went through the screen on
to the little balcony, and looked over the marble
balustrade; it was a long drop, four storeys at least, to the
enclosed court, high enough to make my crotch contract; I
would just hear the faint tinkle of the fountain, and make
out the white pavement in the gloom, but the walls enclosing
the court were black; not a light anywhere.
I found I was shivering, and it wasn't the night air. My
skin was crawling with a sudden dread in that lonely,
sinister darkness, and I was just about to turn hurriedly
back into my room when I saw something that brought the
hair bristling up on my neck.
Far down in the court, on the pale marble by the fountain,
there was a shadow where none had been before. I
stared, thrilling with horror as I realised it was a man, in
black robes, his upturned face hidden in a dark hood. He
was looking up at my balcony, and then he stepped back
into the shadows, and the court was empty.
I was inside and streaking across the room in an instant - and if you say I start at shadows, I'll agree with you,
pointing out only that behind every shadow there's substance,
and in this case it wasn't out for an evening stroll. I
yanked open the door, preparing to speed down the passage
in search of cheer and comfort - and my foot wasn't
over the threshold before I froze in my tracks. At the far end of the passage, beyond the last light, dark figures were Mvancmg, and I caught the gleam of steel among them.
1 skipped back, slamming the door, looking wildly soout for a bolt-hole which I knew didn't exist. There
77
wasn't time to get my pepperbox; they'd be at the; door in
a second - there was nothing for it but to slip throough the
screen to the balcony, shuddering back agaiiinst the
balustrade even as I heard the door flung open aand men
bursting in. In unthinking panic I swung over thee side of
the balustrade, close to the wall, clutching its pillaars from
the outside, cowering low with my toes scrabblinng for a
hold and that appalling drop beneath me, whilde heavy
footsteps and harsh voices rang out from my roomn.
It was futile, of course. They'd be ravening outit on the
balcony in a moment, see me through the pillars --1 could
hear the yell of triumph, feel the agony of steel;! slicing
through my fingers, sending me hurtling to hideousis death.
I crouched lower, gibbering like an ape, trying t to peer
under the balcony - God, there was a masswve stone
bracket supporting it, only inches away! I thrustst a foot
through it, slipped, and for a ghastly instant was I hanging
at full stretch before I got one leg crooked ower the
bracket, made a frantic grab, and found myself clininging to
it like a bloody sloth, upside down beneath the b.balcony,
with my fine silk robe billowing beneath me.
I've no head for heights, did I tell you? That y yawning
black void was dragging my mind down, willing mme to let
go, even as I clung for dear life with locked anklkles and
sweating fingers - I must drag myself up and ower the
bracket somehow, but even as I braced myself f. a voice
sang out just overhead, and the toe of a boot apppeared
between the pillars only a yard above my uptumeied face.
Thank God the balcony rail was a broad projectiiting slab
which hid me from view as he shouted down - arand only
then did I remember blasted Romeo below, whdio must
have been watching my frantic acrobatics . . .
"Ai, Nuria Bey - what of the feringheeV crcries the
voice above - a rasping croak in Pushtu, and I couiuld hear
my muscles creaking with the awful strain as I waiteted to be
announced.
"He came out a moment since, Gurdana Khan,h," came
answer - Jesus, it sounded a mile down. "Then he ^cutback within."
He hadn't seen me? Pondering it later - which you ain't
nclined to do while hanging supine under a balcony of
murderers - I concluded that he must have been looking
elsewhere or relieving himself when I made my leap for
glory, and my robe being dark green, he couldn't make
me out in the deep shadow beneath the balcony. I embraced
the bracket, blubbering silently, while Gurdana Khan
swore by the Seven Lakes of Hell that I wasn't in the
room, so where the devil was I? ; ^
"Perchance he has the gift of invisibility," calls up theSJ^ wag in the court. "The English are great chemists."
Gurdana damned his eyes, and for no sane reason I found
myself thinking that this was the kind of crisis in which,
Broadfoot had said, I might drop the magic word
"Wisconsin" into the conversation. I didn't care to interrupt,
though, just then, while Gurdana stamped in fury
and addressed his followers.
"Find him! Search every nook, every corner in the
palace! Stay, though - he may have gone to the durbar ,
room!" ^
"What - into the very presence of Jawaheer?" scoffs, ,1 another.
"His best refuge, fool! Even thou wouldst not cut his
throat in open durbar. Away, and search! Nuria, thou dirt
- back to the gate!" ^N^
For a split second, as he shouted down, his sleeve came
into view - and even in the poor light there was no mistakes that pattern. It was the tartan of the 79th, and
Gurdana Khan was the Pathan officer I'd seen that afternoon
- dear God, the Palace Guard were after me!
How I held on for those last muscle-cracking moments,
with fiery cramps searing my arms, I can't fathom, much less how I manged to struggle up astride of the bracket.
ut I did, and sat gasping and shaking in the freezing k- ^y were gone, and I must steel myself to reach
79 '
out and up for a hold on the balcony pillars, and somehow find the strength to drag myself to safety. I knew it was
death to try, but equally certain death to remain, so I drew myself into a crouch, feet on the bracket like some
damned cathedral gargoyle, leaned out, and reached
slowly up with one trembling hand, too terrified to make
the snatch which had to be made . . . .
A hideous face shot over the balustrade, glaring down
at me, I squealed in terror, my foot slipped, I clawed
wildly at thin air as I began to fall - and a hand like a vice
clamped on my wrist, almost wrenching my arm from its
socket. For two bowel-chilling seconds I swung free, wailing,
then another hand seized my forearm, and I was
dragged up and over the balustrade, collapsing in a quaking
heap on the balcony, with Jassa's ugly face peering
into mine.
I'm not certain what line our conversation took, once
I'd heaved up my supper, because I was in that state of ) blind funk and shock where talk don't matter, and I made
it worse - once I'd recovered the strength to crawl indoors
- by emptying my pint flask of brandy in about three great
gulps, while Jassa asked damfool questions, .j
That brandy was a mistake. Sober, I'd have begun to ,
reason straight, and let him talk some sense into me, but I i
sank the lot, and the short result was that, in the immortal
words of Thomas Hughes, Flashy became beastly drunk.
And when I'm foxed, and shuddering scared into the
bargain . .. well, I ain't responsible. The odd thing is, I
keep all my faculties except common sense; I see and hear
clearly, and remember, too - and I know I had only one
thought in mind, seared there by that tartan villain who
was bent on murdering me: "The durbar room - his best
refuge!" If there's one thing I respect, drunk or sober, it's
a professional opinion, and if my hunters thought I'd be
safe there then by God not Jassa or fifty like him were
going to keep me from it. He must have tried to calm me,
for I fancy I took him by the throat, to make my intentions
80 ;
^~f but all I'm sure of is that I went blundering off along he passage, and then along another, and down a long
.") staircase that grew lighter as I descended, with the ^"md of music coming closer, and then I was in a broad
roeted gallery, where various interesting Orientals danced at me curiously, and I was looking out at a huge
handelier gleaming with a thousand candles, and below it
a broad circular floor on which two men and a woman
were dancing, three brilliant figures whirling to and fro.
There were spectators down there, too, in curtained
booths round the walls, all in extravagant costumes - aha,
thinks I, this is the spot, and a fancy dress party in progress,
too; capital, 111 go as a chap in a green silk robe with
bare feet. It's a terrible thing, drink. %^
"Bashman bahadur} Why, have you received the
parwana, then?"
I turned, and there was Mangia walking towards me
along the gallery, wearing a smile of astonishment and
very little besides. Plainly it was fancy dress, and she'd
come as a dancer from some select brothel (which wasn't
far out, in fact). She wore a long black sash low on her
hips, knotted so that it hung to her ankles before and
behind, leaving her legs bare; her fine upper works were
displayed in a bodice of transparent gauze, her hair hung
in a black tail to her waist, she tinkled with bangles, and
there were silver castanets on her fingers. A cheering
sight, I can tell you, at any time, but even more so when
you've been hanging out of windows to avoid the broker's
men.
"Noparwana, I'm afraid," says I. "Here, I say, that's a
fetching rig! Well, now ... is that the durbar room down
yonder?"
"Why, yes - you wish to meet their highnessses?" She
came closer, eyeing me curiously. "Is all well with you, bahadwl Why, you are shaking! Are you ill?"
"Not a bit of it!" says I. "Took a turn in the night air
chilly, eh?" Some drunken instinct told me to keep
81
J
mum about my balcony adventure, at least until I m~ higher authority. She said I needed something to warm me, and a lackey serving the folk in the gallery put a
beaker in my hand. What with brandy and funk I was
parched as a camel's oxter, so I drank it straight off, and
another - dry red wine, with a curious effervescent tang to
it. D'you know, it settled me wonderfully; a few more of
these, thinks I, and they can bring the nigger in. I took
another swig, and Mangia laid a hand on my arm, smiling
roguishly. 9
"That is your third cup, bahadur. Have a care. It is . ~ strangely potent, and the night has only begun. Rest a
moment." ;;(''88
I didn't mind. With the liquor taking hold I felt safe
among the lights and music, with this delectable houri to
hand. I slipped an arm round her waist as we looked down
on the dancers; the guests reclining in the booths around
the floor were clapping to the music and throwing silver; ]
others were drinking and eating and dallying - it looked a
thoroughly jolly party, with most of the women as briefly
attired as Mangia. One black charmer, naked to the waist,
was supporting a shouting reveller as he weaved his way ^ across the floor, there was excited laughter and shrill voi';
ces, and one or two of the booths had their curtains disj erectly closed . . . and not a Pathan in sight. 1
"Their highnesses are merry," says Mangia. "One of I
them, at least." A man's voice was shouting angrily |
below, but the music and celebration continued uninterrupted.
"Never fear, you will find a welcome - come and j
join our entertainment."
Capital, thinks I, we'll entertain each other in one of
those curtained nooks, so I let her lead me down a curved |
stair giving on to an open space at one side of the floor,
where there were buffets piled high with delicacies and
drink. The angry man's voice greeted us as we descended,
and then he was in view beside the tables: a tall, wenmade
fellow, handsome in the pretty Indian way, with a
82
Lurfy beard and moustache, a huge jewelled ti^^ ^ ^
;ead and only baggy silk pantaloons on the^ ^ ^ &e was staggering tight, with a goblet in one h^ ^ ^ ^er round the neck of the black beauty ^^ ^
helping hi" across the floor Before him stoos^ ^inanath
and Azizudeen, gnm and funous as he raile^ ^ ^^ stuttering drunkenly.
"Tell 'em to go to the devil! Do they think t^g ^y^y. ^ some mujbee* who'll run to their bidding! Le ^ ,^ ^^ to me - aye, and humbly! Khalsa scum! Sons .. _ ^ owls! Do they think they rule here?" OI P g^
"They know it,"5naps Azizudeen. "Persist i ^ ^ ^y and tbey'U prove it."
"Treason!" bawls the other, and flung thf^ goblet at
him. It missed by yards, and he'd have tumbledL., B .r ^ black wench hadn't caught him. He clung tip^y ^ ^ flecks of spittle on his beard, crying that he was ^ ^'g Wazir'
they wouldn't dare "And
what's to stop them?" demands AAziyndeen
"Your Palace Guard - whom the Khalsa have P^romieed to
blow from guns if you escape? Try it, my P^nnce and
you'll find your Guards have become your jaile ^ , '
"Liar!" yammers the other, and then from : ^y.-.y and
cursing he burst into tears, bleating about hov^, ^ell he'd
paid them, half a lakh to a single general, and thi nev'd stand
by him while the British ate the Khalsa alive. ' ^ "Jh ave the
British are marching on us even now!"^> _'--, i,"Don't
the fools know that?"
"They know you say so - but that it is not trui.,,,. " _.-, ,Dinanath
sternly. "My prince, this is foolish. ' Yn.i^nn"
you must go out to the Khalsa tomorrow, to ^ ancwer for
Peshora-s death ... if you speak them fair, all m^^^u
the' fel^1'15^ closer' speaking low and ea^rVnest, while
ne eUow mowed and wept - and then, da^^ ,r i,^"'t
lose interest and start nuzzling and fo^S^^
Sweeper. ,. '[
black popsy. First things first seemed to be his motto, and'
he pawed with such ardour that they tumbled down and
sprawled in a drunken embrace at the stair foot, while
Dinanath and Azizudeen stood speechless. The drunkard
raised his face from between her boobies once, blubberiir
at Dinanath that he daren't go out to the Khalsa, they'd
do him a mischief, and then went back to the matter ini
hand, trying to climb on top of her with his great turban aBl
awry. '
Mangia and I were standing only a few steps above
them, and I was thinking, well, you don't often see this at
Windsor - the astonishing thing was that no one else in the I
durbar room was paying the least heed; while thel
drunkard alternately mauled his wench and whimpered
and snarled at the two counsellors, the dance was reaching
its climax, the band piping away in fine style, the spec";
tators applauding. I glanced at Mangia, and she shrugged.1
^ "Raja Jawaheer Singh, Wazir," says she, indicating thtj
turbaned sportsman. "Do you wish to be presented?" |
Now he was struggling to his feet again, calling for3
drink, and the black girl held the cup while he gulped aniS|
slobbered. Azizudeen turned on his heel in disgust, airfl
Dinanath followed him towards one of the booths. Jawa
heer pushed the cup away, staggered, and clutched at)
table for support, calling for them to come back, and tha
was when his eye fell. on us. He goggled stupidly, am
started forward. ^
"Mangia!" cries he. "Mangia, you bitch! Who's that?"
"It is the English envoy, Flashman sahib," says sh
coolly.
He gaped at me, blinking, and then a crafty look can*
into his eyes, and he loosed a great shout of laughw
yelling that he'd been right - the British had come, as he'^
said they would.
"See, Dinanath! Look, Azizudeen! The British a
here!" He swung round, stumbling, weaving towal*
them in a sort of crazy dance, crowing with high-pitcbt
hter. "A liar, am I? See - their spy is here!" Dinanath ^TAzizudeen had turned in the entrance of one of the ^ths and as Jawaheer capered and fell down, and
uanda brought me to the foot of the staircase, I saw Dinanath white with fury - shame and loss of face before a
foreigner, you see. The dancing and music had stopped,
folk were craning to look, and flunkeys were running to
help Jawaheer, but he lashed out at them, staggering
round to point unsteadily at me.
H "British spy! Filth! Your Company bandits will come to dunder us, will they? Brigands, wilayati* vermin!" He
glared from me to Dinanath. "Ai-ee, the British will come
- they will have cause to come!" shrieks he, pointing at
me, and then they'd hustled him off, still yelling and
laughing, Mangia clapped her hands, the music began
again, and folk turned away, whispering behind their
hands, just as they do at home when Uncle Percy's had
one of his bad turns during evensong.
I dare say I should have been embarrassed, but with a
couple of quarts of mixed brandy and puggle inside me, I
didn't mind one little bit. Jawaheer was plainly all that
rumour said of him, but I had deeper concerns: I was
suddenly thirsty again, and beginning to feel so monstrous
randy that if Lady Sale had happened by she'd have had to
look damned lively, rheumatics and all. Doubtless the
curious liquor Mangia had plied me with was responsible
for both conditions; very well, she could take the consequences
... there she was, the luscious little teaser, by the
rooth where Azizudeen and Dinanath had been a
moment since. I lurched towards her, gloating, but even " I have to beside her a woman spoke from beyond the
open curtains.
"Is this your Englishman? Let me look at him."
turned in surprise - not only at the words, but at the "n-ed, appraising arrogance of the tone. Mangia stepped
*Foreigner.
85
back, and with a littfle gesture of presentation, said. "Hashman sahib, kunwari"* and that title told me I ^ in the presence of tite notorious Maharani Jeendan
Indian Venus, modem Messalina, and uncrowned queen
of the Punjab.
Here and there in tfxy memoirs I've remarked on the
attraction of the female sex, and how it's seldom a matter
of beauty alone. There are breathtakers like Elspeth and
Lola and Yehonala wh(?m you can't wait to chivvy into the shrubbery; equally classic creatures (Angie Burdett- Courts, for example, of the Empress of Austria) who are
as exciting as cold soup but appeal to the baser aesthetic
senses; and plain Janes who could start a riot in a monastery.
In each case, Apb rodite or the governess, the magic is different, you see; thf?re is always some unique charm or
singular attraction, anc? it can be hard to define. In Mai
Jeendan, though, it stood out a mile: she was simply the
lewdest-looking strumpot I ever saw in my life.
Mind you, when a young woman with the proportions
of an erotic Indian statu-e is found reclining half-naked and
three parts drunk, whil^ a stalwart wrestler rubs her down
with oil, it's easy to leap to conclusions. But you could
have covered this one with sackcloth in the front row of
the church choir, and they'd still have ridden her out of
town on a rail. You've heard of voluptuaries whose vices |
are stamped on their fyces - mine, for example, but ?
over eighty. She was in her twenties, and lust was in every j
line of her face: the onc*e. perfect beauty turned fleshy, tteJ lovely curves of lip and nostril thickened by booze and
pleasure into the painteri mask of a depraved angel - gad'
she was attractive. She looked like those sensual pictures
of Jezebel and Delilah which religious artists paint witi
such loving enthusiasm ^ Arnold could have got enouy1 sermons out of her to 1-ast the half. Her eyes were larg^
'.^ , ' ^ K1
*Kunwa.r=the son of a mafcaraja, and kunwari is presumably "'j
female honorific.
86
..ad wanton and slightly protruding, with a vacant, sated
nression which may have been due to drink or the "cent attentions of the wrestler - a bit shaky, he looked r jne - but as I made my bow they widened in what was
either drunken interest or yearning lechery - the same
thing, really, with her.
Considering the size of her endowments, she was quite
small light coffee in colour, and fine-boned under her
smooth fat - a lung bibi, as they say; a "tight lady". Like
Mangia, she was decked out as a dancer, with a crimson
silk loin-cloth and flimsy bodice, but instead of bangles
her legs and arms were sheathed in gauze sewn with tiny
gems, and her dark red hair was contained in a jewelled
net.
To see her then, you'd never have guessed that when
she wasn't guzzling drink and men, Mai Jeendan was
another woman altogether; Broadfoot was wrong in thinking
debauchery had dulled her wits. She was shrewd and
resolute and ruthless when the need arose; she was also an
accomplished actress and mimic, talents developed when :'
she'd been the leading jester in old Runjeet's obscene
private entertainments.
Just now, though, she was too languid with drink to do
more than struggle up on one elbow, pushing her masseur
away to view me better, slowly up and down - it reminded
me of being on the slave-block in Madagascar, when no
one bought me, rot them. This time, so far as one could
Judge from the lady's tipsy muttering as she lolled back on
her cushions, fluttering a plump hand at me, the market
was more buoyant.
"You were right, Mangia . . . he's big!" She gave a
drunken chuckle, adding an indelicate remark which I ^on't translate. "Well, must make him comfortable . . .
ave hir" take off his robe . . . come sit down here, beside me. You, get out. . ." This to the wrestler, who salaamed n'mself off in haste. "You too, Mangia . . . draw the ""ams . . . want to talk with big Englishman."
87
And not about the Soochet legacy, from the way slip
patted the cushions and smiled at me over the rim of he
glass. Well, I'd heard she was game, but this was infor.
mality with a vengeance. I was all for it, mind you, even if
she was as drunk as Taffy's sow and spilling most of the
drink down her front - if any ass tells you that there's
nothing so disgusting as a beauty in her cups, I can only say she looks a sight more interesting than a sober
schoolmarm. I was wondering if I should offer to help her
out of her wet things when Mangia got in before me
calling for a cloth, so I hung back, polite-like, and found
myself being addressed most affably by a tall young
grandee with a flashing smile who made me a pretty little
speech, welcoming me to the Court of Lahore, and trusting
that I would have a pleasant stay.
His name was Lal Singh, and I still give him top marks
for style. After all, he was Jeendan's principal lover, and;
here was his mistress cussing like Sowerberry Hagan and < having her d6shabill6 mopped in the presence of a|
stranger whom she'd been about to drag into the wood-j
shed; it didn't unsettle him a bit as he congratulated me'
on my Afghan exploits and drew me into conversation! with Tej Singh, my fat little warrior of the afternoon,! who bobbed up grinning at his elbow to tell me how
well I suited the robe he'd given me. By this time I was, beginning to feel a trifle confused myself, having in short,
order survived an assassination plot - what a long time
ago it seemed - been filled with strong waters and (I
suspected) aphrodisiac, trotted up and down by a half- naked slave girl, verbally assailed in public by the Wazir| II ' illillllllllll ^ ^le P""!^' sn^ indecently ogled by his drunken flesh! iill' ^P of a sister- ^w I was discussing, more or less,
coherently, the merits of the latest Congreve rockets with
two knowledgeable military men, while a yard away the
Queen Regent was being dried off by her attendants
and protesting tipsily, and at my back a vigorous ballet was being danced by a score of young chaps in turb
. ^ggy trousers, with the orchestra goo^mg fan steam.
Twas new to Lahore, of course, and na not au fait with 1 easygoing ways. I didn't know, for i^ example, that
""Gently' whe11 Lal singh and Jawaheer ) ^ had quarrelled
blicly'the Maharani had composed thing^gs by presenting p ^ of them with a naked houri and M telling them to e tore their tempers by doing honour to)(o her gifts then
and there. Which, by all accounts, they hac<ad done. I mention
that in case you think my own acoiccount is at all
exagg^a1^- "We must have a longer talk presemsntly," says Lal
Singh, taking me by the arm. "You see ^ the deplorable
condition of affairs here. It cannot continue^e - as I am sure ,
Hardinge sahib is aware. He and I have % had some correspondence
- through your esteemed bd chief. Major
Broadfoot." He flashed me another of f his smiles, all |? beard and teeth. "They are both very practOctical and expert
men. Tell me, you have their confidence -- - what price do
you suppose they would consider faini-ir . . . for the
Punjab?" "
| Well, I was drunk, and he knew it, whiffltuch was why he
asked the impossible, treasonable questioaion, in the hope
that my reaction would tell him something. g. Even fuddled,
I knew that Lal Singh was a clever, prob-dtbably desperate
man, and that the best answer to the unars answerable is to
put a question of your own. So I said bid, "Why, does
someone want to sell it?" At which he ga gave me a long.
smile, while little Tej held his breath; tt then Lal Singh" clapped me on the shoulder.
"We shall have our long talk by day," '"" says he. "The
night is for pleasure. Would you care fonor some opium?
No? Kashmiri opium is the finest obtainaMible - like Kashmiri
women. I would offer you one, or evensen two, of them,
"ut I fear my lady Jeendan's displeasmsure. You have aroused some expectation in that quarter, ,r, Mr Flashman, as I'm sure you noticed." His smile was as ins easy and open ^ though he were telling me she'd be bidAidding me to tea
89 '- i^ ;.
pTesently. "May I suggest a fortifying draught?" He beckoned
a matey, and I was presented with another beaker of
Mangla's Finest Old Inspirator, which I sipped with caution.
"I see you treat it with greater respect than does that
impossible sot, our Wazir. Look yonder, bahadur ... and
have pity on us."
For now Jawaheer was to the fore again, reeling noisily
in front of Jeendan's booth, with his black tart trying
vainly to hold him upright; he was delivering a great tirade
against Dinanath, and Jeendan must have sobered
somewhat under Mangla's ministrations, for she told him
pretty plain, with barely a hiccough, to pull himself together and drink no more.
"Be a man," says she, and indicated his wench. "With
her . . . practise for acting like a man among men. Go on
.. . take her to bed. Make yourself brave!"
"And tomorrow?" cries he, flopping down on his knees
before her. He was having another of his blubbering fits,
wailing and rocking to and fro.
"Tomorrow," says she, with drunken deliberation,
"you'll go out to Khalsa ~"
"I cannot!" squeals he. "They'll tear me to pieces!"
"You'll go, little brother. And speak to them. Make
your peace with 'em ... all will be right..."
"You'll come with me?" he pleaded. "You and the_
child?" I
"Be assured . . . we'll all come. Lal and Tej. .. Mangia j
here." Her sleepy gaze travelled to me. "Big Englishman, i too . . . he'll tell the Maiki lat and Jangi lot* how the
troops acclaimed their Wazir. Cheered him!" She
nourished her cup, spilling liquor again. "So they'll know |
... a man rules in Lahore!" :; .4^- i
He stared about vacantly, and his face was that ofa;
frightened ape, all streaked with tears. I doubt if he saw me, for he leaned closer to her, whispering hoarsely
*"LordofWar",i.e. Gough. ||
90
"And then - we'll march on the British? Take them
unawares --
"As God wills," smiles she, and looked at me again nd
for an instant she didn't seem drunk at all. She
stroked his face, speaking gently, as to a fractious infant.
"But first ... the Khalsa. You must take them gifts ...
promises of pay . .."
"But. . but.. . how can I pay? Where can I "
"There is treasure in Delhi, remember," says she, and
danced at me a third time. "Promise them that."
"Perhaps ... if I gave them thisV He rumbled in his
belt and brought out a little case on a chain. "I shall wear
it tomorrow "
"Why not? But I must wear it tonight." She snatched it
from him, laughing, and held it beyond his reach. "Nay,
nay - wait! It is for the dance! Would you like that, little
brother-who-wishes-he-weren't-a-brother? Mmh?" She
slipped her free hand round his neck, kissing him on the
lips. "Tomorrow is tomorrow . .. this is tonight, so we'll?^ take our pleasure, eh?" ? A
She nodded to Mangia, who clapped her hands. The
music died away, the dancers skipped off the floor, and
there was a general withdrawal by the guests. Jawaheer
flopped down beside Jeendan on the cushions, leaning his
head against her.
"So government is conducted." Lal Singh spoke in my
ear. "Would Hardinge sahib approve, think you? Until
tomorrow then, Flashman sahib."
Tej Singh gave another of his greasy chuckles and
nudged me. "Remember the saying: 'Below the Sutlej
^ there are brothers and sisters; beyond it, only rivals.'"
e went off with Lal Singh.
1 didn^t know what the devil he meant - nor, in my lowing inebriation, did I care. All these gassing intruders were keeping me from the company of that splendid pained
troUop who was now wasting her talents in soothing
er whining oaf of a brother yonder, cradling him against
91
that superb bosom and pouring drink inito him and herself
I was itching to be at her, and even when Mangia came to
lead me to the neighbouring booth, I wasn't distracted: I
guess my tastes are coarse, and I'd developed a craving for the mistress that wasn't to be satisfied Iby the maid - who
kept the curtains open, anyway, and hacd a matey standing
by to keep me liquored through the enitertainment which
now began. As I said, most of the courtiers seemed to
have gone, leaving the Maharani and he;r chosen intimates
to riot with the performers.
The first of these was a troupe of Kas;hmiri girls, spanking
little creatures in scanty silver armour, with bows and
toy swords, who cavorted in a parody of military drill
which would have scandalised the Gemeral Staff and terrified
their horses. This was somethinig from Runjeet's
day, Mangia told me: the girls were his fcemale bodyguard,
with whom the old lecher had been wonit to battle through
the night.
Then there was a serious interlude by! Indian wrestlers,
who are the best on earth outside Cumlberland, muscular
young bucks who fought like greased liglhtning, all science
and sinew - none of your crude Turkis>h grunting or the
unspeakable Japanese vulgarity. Jeemdan, I noticed,
roused from her lethargy during these bouts, rising
unsteadily to her feet to applaud the falls, and summoning
the victors to drink from her cup while she stroked and
petted them. Meanwhile their place was taken by female
wrestlers, strapping wenches who foughit naked (another
of old Runjeet's fancies), with the male wrestlers and
Kashmiri girls kneeling round the floor,, egging them on,
and then wrestling with each other, to tlhe inevitable conclusion,
while the band played appropriate music. They
were all over the floor in no time, seruously impeding a
troupe of dancing girls and boys who hadi come on to frolic
in a measure which proved to be a considerable advance
on the polka.
Now, you may not credit this, but I'mi not much of a
hand at orgies. I ain't what you'd call a prude, but I do
hold that an Englishman's brothel is his castle, where he should behave according - as many flash-tails as he likes,
hut none of these troop fornications that the Orientals
indulge m- ^t)s not ^le "decency I mind, but the company
of a lot of boozy brutes hallooing and kicking up the deuce
of a row when I want to concentrate and give of my best.
A regular bacchanalia is something to see, right enough,
but I'm with the discriminating Frog who said that one is
interesting, but only a cad would make a habit of it. :
Still, evil associations corrupt good manners, especially .
when you're horny as Turvey's bull and full of love-puggle;
Mangla'U have to do, thinks I, if I ain't too foxed to
carry her out of this bedlam, and I was just looking about
for her when there was a great drunken cheer from the
floor, and Jeendan came swaying out of her booth, helped ^|
by a couple of her dancing-boys. She pushed them away, 1| took a couple of shaky steps, and began to writhe like a
Turkish wedding dancer, flaunting her hips and rotating
her plump little bottom, flirting the tails of her crimson
loin-cloth, giving little squeals of laughter as she turned,
stamping, then clapping her hands above her head while
the others took up the rhythm and the tom-toms throbbed
and the cymbals clashed.
'
That was my first glimpse of Koh-i-Noor, gleaming in
her navel like a live thing as she fluttered her belly in and
out - but it didn't hold my attention long, for as she|;j|
danced she screamed over her shoulder, and one of the""""'" dancing-boys leaped in behind her, sliding his hands up
her body, unclasping her bodice and letting it fall, fondling
her as she danced back into him and slowly turned
herself until they were face to face. They writhed against
each other while the onlookers shrieked with delight and Ae music beat ever faster, and then he retreated from her
slowly, sweat pouring down his body - and bum me if the
stone wasn't in his navel now! How the devil they did it, I ^'t think; Swedish exercises, perhaps. The boy yelled
93 >
and pirouetted in triumph, and Jeendan staggered into the
arms of one of the wrestlers, giggling while he pawed and
kissed her. One of the Kashmiri hints flung herself at the
boy, clasping him round the waist and wriggling against
him; damned if I could see any better this time, but she
came away with the stone in turn, undulating to let the
onlookers see it, and then subsiding under another youth,
the pair of them heaving to wake the dead - but either he
was less expert or something else caught their interest, for
the diamond slipped out from between thefli and rolled
across the floor, to cat-calls and groans of disappointment.
I was watching all this through a haze of booze and
disbelief, taking another refreshing swig, add thinking,
wait till I get back to Belgravia and teach 'em the new
dance step, and when I looked again there was Jeendan,
struggling and laughing wildly in the arms of another
dancing-boy, and the great stone was back on her belly
again - hollo, thinks I, someone's been handling in the
scrimmage. She seized the boy's wine-cup, di'ained it and tossed it over her shoulder, and then beg^n to dance
towards me, the tawny hourglass body agleam as though it
had been oiled, her limbs shimmering in their sheaths of
gems. Now she was slapping her bare flanks to the tomtom
beat, drawing her fingers tantalisingly up her jewelled
thighs and across her body, lifting the fat round breaste
and laughing at me out of that painted harlot's face. J
"Will you have it. Englishman? Or shall 1 keep it for
Lal - or Jawaheer? Come, take it, gora sahib, my English bahadurl"
You mayn't credit it, but I was recalling a line by some
poet or other - Elizabethan, I think - who must have
witnessed a similar performance, for he wrote of "her
brave vibrations each way free".21 Couldn't have put it
better myself, thinks I, as I made a heroic liirch for her
and fell on all fours, but the sweet thoughtful girl sank
down before me, arms raised from her sides, making her
muscles quiver from her fingertips up her arms and
94 i
(j shuddering her bounties at me, and I seized them
th a cry of thanksgiving. She squealed, either in delight w to signify "Foul!", whipped her loincloth off and round 0 v neck, and drew my face towards her open mouth.
"Take'it. Englishman!" she gasps, and then she had my robe open, thrusting her belly against mine and kissing me
as though I were beefsteak and she'd been fasting for a
week. And I don't know who the considerate chap was
who drew the curtains to, but suddenly we were alone,
and somehow I was on my feet with her clinging to me, her legs clasped round my hips, moaning as I settled her in
place and began the slow march, up and down, keeping
rime to the tom-toms, and I fear I broke the rules, for I
removed the jewel manually before it did me a mischief. I
doubt if she noticed; didn't mention it, anyway.
Well, I can't think when I've enjoyed a dance so much,
unless it was when we set to partners again, an hour or so
later, I imagine. I seem to remember we drank considerable
in between, and prosed in an incoherent way - most
of it escapes me, but I recall distinctly that she said she
purposed to send little Dalip to an English public school
when he was older, and I said capital, look what it had
done for me, but the devil with going up to Oxford, just a
nest of bookworms and bestial, and how the deuce did she
do that navel exercise with the diamond? So she tried to
teach me, giggling through incredible contortions which
culminated in her plunging and squirming astride of me as
though I were Running Reins with only a furlong to go and
in the middle of it she screamed a summons and two
of her Kashmiri girls popped in and urged her on by whipping
her with canes - intrusive, I thought, but it was her
home ground, after all.
She went to sleep directly we'd passed the post, crawled on top of me, and the Kashmiris left off lashing
her and snickered to each other. I sent them packing, and
having heaved her off was composing myself to slumber "kewise, when I heard them chattering beyond the
95
curtain, and presently thfy peeped in again, giggling.
Their mistress would wake )resently, they said, and it was
their duty to see that I wa> clean, bright, slightly oiled,
and ready for service. "Walk-er!" says I, but they
insisted, respectfully covetng her with a shawl before
renewing their pestering cf me, telling me I must be
bathed and combed and peifumed and made presentable,
or there'd be the devil to psy. I saw I'd get no peace, so I
lumbered up, cursing, and warning them that their mistress
would be out of luce, for I was ruined beyond
redemption.
i "Wait until we have bathed you," giggles one of the
houris. "You will make her scream for mercy."
I doubted that, but told them to lead on, and they
conducted me, one holding lie up on either side, for I was
still well foxed. Beyond the ;urtains the durbar room was
empty now, and the great ctandelier was out, with only a * few candles on the walls mahng little pools of light in the
gloom. They led me under the staircase, along a dim-lit
passage, and down a short flight of stairs to a great stone
and marble chamber like a Turkish bath-house; it was in
deep shadow about its walls and high ceiling, but in the
centre, surrounded by tall sender pillars, was a tiled area
with a sunken bath in whict water was steaming. There
was a brazier close by, and towels piled to hand, while all
about stood flagons of oils aid soaps and shampoos; altogether
it was as luxurious a wallow as you could wish. I
asked if this was where the Maharani bathed.
"Not this maharani," says one. "This was the bath of
the Lady Chaund Cour, peace be upon her."
"It is altogether finer than our mistress's," says the
other, sidling up to me, "and is reserved for thos; whom
she delights to honour." She took a playful tease at me,
and her companion drew off my robe, squeaking with
admiration. "Bahadur, indeed! Oh, fortunate Mai
Jeendan!"
She'll be fortunate to get any good out of me after a
bath with you two, thinks I, admiring them boozily as they
laid by their little bows and arrows and toy swords, and
stripped off their silver skirts and breastplates. Lovely
little nymphs they were, and there was much playing and
giggling as we stepped down into the bath. It was about
three feet deep by seven square, half-filled with warm
scented water into which I subsided drowsily, letting it lap
over my exhausted frame while one of the Kashmiris cradled
my head and gently sponged my face and hair, and
the other went to work on my feet and then on to my
ankles and calves. You're on the right lines, thinks I, and
closed my eyes, reflecting on what a delightful time of it
Haroun al-Raschid must have had, and wondering if he'd
ever become bored and yearned for the life of a jolly
waggoner or productive farm labour in the open air. You
wouldn't catch Flashy prowling the streets of Baghdad in
disguise, looking for adventure, not while there was soap
and water at home ...
The lower wench was soaping my knees now, and I
opened my eyes, contemplating the ceiling far above, all
coloured Persian designs, with a picture in the centre, of a
cove with a stiff neck sitting under an awning and lording
it over a platoon of bearded wallahs crouched in supplication.
That's your sort, thinks I, whoever you are, some
Sikh nabob .. . and that reminded me of the names I'd
memorised so painfully from Broadfoot's packets: Heera
Singh and Dehan Singh and Soochet Singh and Buggerlugs
Singh and Chaund Cour and ... Chaund Cour?
Where had I heard that name recently . . .? Why, only a
few moments since, from the houris; this was her bathroom
- and suddenly a tiny maggot that had been wandering
aimlessly through my mind snapped to attention, even
as I heard swirling of water and realised that the girl had.
stopped soaping my knees and was swinging herself nimbly
out of the bath .. . Chaund Cour's bath . . . Chaund
Cour who'd been smashed to pieces while bathing
If the wench washing my hair had moved less sharply
97
I'd have been a goner, but when her mate jumped out she
dropped my head like a hot brick, and I went under and
came out spluttering - to see her in the act of heaving
herself out on the tiles, and from the tail of my eye I saw
the huge coloured picture in the ceiling overhead start to
quiver, with a dreadful scraping sound. For an instant I
was frozen, sprawled in the water, and it can only have
been instinct that galvanised my flaccid muscles, so that I
thrust myself out of the water, turning and clutching for
the edge of the bath, my hand closing on the girl's ankle.
That hold saved me from toppling back, and gave me a
. purchase to hurl myself out on to the tiles, while she was
catapulted back into the water, her scream of terror lost in
a deafening grinding thunder like an avalanche, followed
by an almighty crash that seemed to shake the whole
building and made the tiles start from their settings
beneath my face. I rolled away with a yell of terror,
sprawling on the wet tiles and staring back in disbelief.
Where the bath had been there was a flat expanse of
rough stone, filling the cavity like a huge plug flush with
the surrounding tiles. From that monstrous square of rock
great rusty chains snaked up, clanking to and fro, into a
gaping hole in the patterned ceiling. Foam was gushing up
; in a curtain from the narrow fissures between the fallen
slab and the sides of the bath, washing over me in a wave,
and even as I stared in horror it continued to ooze out,
pink at first and then a hideous crimson. Beyond the bath
the second Kashmiri was cowering against a pillar, her
mouth wide in scream after scream. She turned and ran,
water flying from her bare body, and then stopped dead,
her shrieks changing to a terrified wail.
Three men were standing just clear of the shadows on
that side, drawn scimitars in their hands. They wore only
loose grey pyjamy trousers and great wide hoods so deep
that their faces were invisible; the girl shrank away from
them, blubbering and covering her face; she slipped and
fell on the wet tiles and tried to scramble away while they
stood like grey statues, and then one stepped forward,
lightly hefting his sword, she bounded to her feet, screeching
as she turned to run, but before she'd gone a step his ; .
point was through her back; it came out like a ghastly 'a .
silver needle between her breasts, and she pitched ||
forward lifeless on the stone block. Then they were flitting ig. ;
towards me in dead silence, expert assassins of whom two
skirted wide to take me in flank while the third came
straight for me, his blood-smeared blade out before him. I
turned to run, slipped, and came down headlong.,^
Cowardice has its uses. I'd be long dead without it, for
it's driven me to try, in blind panic, ploys which no think- ass 3
ing man would even attempt. A brave man would have ||''I
scrambled up to run or fling himself at the nearest enemy ||;.;
bare-handed; only Flashy, landing arse over tip on one of
the little piles of gear discarded by the Kashmir! girls,
would have grabbed at her pathetic tinsel bow, snatched a
dart from its quiver, fumbled it gibbering on to the string ,
and let fly at the leading thug as he came leaping over the y^ girl's corpse at me, swinging up his scimitar. It was only a "^iSjis. fragile toy, but it was tight-strung, and that small shaft
must have been sharp as a chisel, for it sank to the flights ^ in his midriff and he twisted howling in mid-air, his A'
scimitar clashing on the tiles before me. I grabbed it,
knowing I was done for, with one of the flank men driving ||
at me, but I managed to turn his thrust and hurl myself
sideways, expecting to feel his mate's point searing into
my back. There was a yell and clash of steel behind me as I
landed on my shoulder and rolled over and up, slashing
blindly and bawling like an idiot for help. < i
Wasted breath, for it had arrived. The other flank man
was desperately trying to parry the sweep of a Khyber
knife in the hand of a tall robed newcomer - which with a
scimitar is rather like opposing a pea-shooter to a rifle.
One slash and the scimitar blade was a shattered stump,
another and the thug was down with a cloven skull - and
the man whose thrust I'd parried leaped back and was off
99 a
Since I've seen a Welshman in a top hat
leading a Zulu impi, and have myself ridden in an Apache
war party in paint and breech-clout, I dare say I shouldn't
have been surprised to find that Gurdana Khan, the complete
Khyberie hilhnan, could talk the lingo of Brother
Jonathan - there were some damned odd fellows about in
the earlies, I can tell you. But the circumstances were
unusual, you'll allow, and I probably gaped for several
seconds before scrambling into my robe. Then reaction
seized me, and I vomited, while he stood glowering like a
Nonconformist at the three hooded bodies, and the naked
white corpse of the poor little Kashmiri slut with the
bloody water lapping round her. I say poor slut - she'd
done her damnedest to have me squashed flatter than a
fluke. The man I'd shot was writhing about, wailing in
agony.
"Let him linger," growls Gurdana Khan. "Mistreatment
of women is something I cannot endure! Come
away." S^fc : . 4?|y
He strode off to a staircase hidden in the shadows on
the other side of the bath-house, ushering me impatiently
ahead of him. We ascended, and he chivvied me along miles of turning passages, ignoring my incoherent questions,
then across a lofty hall, through a guardroom where
black-robed irregulars lounged, and at last into a spacious,
comfortable room for all the world like a bachelor's den at
home, with prints and trophies on the walls, book cases,
and fine leather easy chairs. I was shivering with chill and
shock and bewilderment; he sat me down, threw a shawl
^ 101
over my legs, and poured out two stiff pegs - malt whisky,
if you please. He laid by his Khyber knife and pulled off
his puggaree - he was a Pathan, though, with that closecropped
skull, hawk face, and grizzled beard, for all he
grunted "Slainte" as he lifted his tumbler, first clamping
his neck in that strange iron collar I'd seen in the afternoon
- dear God, was it only twelve hours ago? Having
drunk, he stood scowling down at me like a headmaster at
an erring fag.
"Now see here, Mr Flashman - where the devil were
you this evening? We combed the palace, even looked
under your bed, godammit! Well, sir?"
I made no sense of this - all I knew was that someone
was trying to murder me, but plainly it wasn't this crossgrained
fellow ... so I'd risked horrible death hanging out
of windows while he and his gang had been looking for me
to protect me, by the sound of it! I removed the glass from
my chattering teeth, a
"I... I was out. But.. . who on earth are you?" 4
"Alexander Campbell Gardner!" snaps he. "Formerly
artillery instructor to the Khalsa, presently guard commander
to the Maharaja, and recently at your service and
think yourself lucky!"
"But you're an American!" ''
"That I am." He fixed me with an eye like a gimlet.
"From the territory of Wisconsin."
I must have been a picture of idiocy, for he clapped that
iron object to his neck again, gulped whisky, and rasped:
"Well, sir? You passed that word, as Broadfoot instructed
you should, in an emergency. When, you ask? Dammit,
to the little Maharaja, and again to old Ram Singh! It
reached me - no matter how - and I came directly to help
you, and not a hair of you in sight! Next I hear, you're
with the Maharani, playing the Devil and Jenny Golightly!
Was that intelligent conduct, sir, when you knew Jawaheer
Singh was out to cut your throat?" He emptied his
glass, clashed his iron clamp on the table, and glared.
"How the dooce did you know he was after you,
anyway?" . H
This tirade had me all adrift. "I didn't know any such
thing! Mr Gardner, I'm at a loss "
"Colonel Gardner! Then why the blue blazes did you ,^ sound the alarm? Hollering Wisconsin to everyone you ^ met, concern it!"
"Did I? I may have said it inadvertently "
"Inadvertently? Upon my soul, Mr Flashman!"
"But I don't understand . . . it's all mad! Why should
Jawaheer want to kill me? He don't even know me barely
met the fellow, and he was tight as Dick's hatband!"
An appalling thought struck me. "Why, they % weren't his people - they were the Maharani's! Her slavegirls!
They lured me to that bloody bathroom - they knew
what was to happen! She must have ordered them -" ^
>S8%'.
"How dare you, sir!" So help me, it's what he said,
with his whiskers crackling. "To suggest that she would
... What, after the .. . the kindness she had shown you?
A fine thing that would be! I tell you those Kashmiris were
bribed and coerced by Jawaheer and by Jawaheer alone those
were his villains down there, sent to silence the girls
once you'd been disposed of! D'you think I don't know s^ 'em? The Maharani, indeed!" He was in a fine indigna- ''* tion, right enough. "I'm not saying," he went on, "that
she's the sort of young woman I'd take home to meet
mother . . . but you mind this, sir!" He rounded on me.
"With all her weaknesses - of which you've taken full ^sg
advantage - Mai Jeendan is a charming and gracious lady Sa?
and the best hope this god-abandoned territory has seen
since Runjeet Singh! You'll remember that, by thunder, iffWv you and I are to remain friends!"
I wasn't alone in my enthusiasm for the lady, it seemed,
although I guessed his was of a more spiritual variety. But
I was as much in the dark as ever. ,H
"Very well, you say it was Jawaheer - why the devil
should he want to murder me?" sar
103 :,.
"Because he wants a war with the British! That's why!
And the surest way to start one is to have a British emissary
kiboshed right here in Lahore! Why, man, Gough
would be over the Sutlej with fifty thousand bayonets
before you could say Jack Robinson - John Company and
the Khalsa would be at grips . . . that's what Jawaheer
wants, don't you see?"
I didn't, and said so. "If he wants a war - why doesn't
he just order the Khalsa to march on India? They're spoiling
for a fight with us, ain't they?"
"Sure they are - but not with Jawaheer leading them!
They've never had any use for him, so the only way he can
get 'em to fight is if the British strike first. But dammit,
you won't oblige him, however much he provokes you '"' along the border - and Jawaheer has gotten desperate.
He's bankrupt, the Khalsa hates and distrusts him and is
ready to skin him alive for Peshora's death, they hold him
prisoner in his own palace, his balls are in the mangle!"
He took a deep breath. "Don't you know anything, Mr
Flashman? Jawaheer needs a war, now, to keep the
Khalsa occupied and save his own skin. That's why he
tried to put you out with the bath water tonight, confound
it, don't you see?"
Well, put that way, it made sense. Everyone seemed to
want a bloody war except Hardinge and yours truly - but I
could see why Jawaheer's need was more urgent than
most. I'd heard the Khalsa's opinion of him that afternoon,
and seen the almighty funk he was in. That's what
he'd meant, by God, when he'd pointed at me and yelled
that the British would have cause to come - the evil,
vicious bastard! He'd been lying in wait for my arrival...
and suddenly a dreadful, incredible suspicion rushed in on
jne.
9 "My God! Did Broadfbot know that Jawaheer would
try to kill me? Did he send me here to "
He gave a barking laugh. "Say, you have a high opinion
of your betters, don't you? First Mai Jeendan, now Major
104
m
Broadfoot! No, sir - that is not his style! Why, if he had
foreseen such a thing . . ." He broke off, frowning, then
shook his head. "No, Jawaheer hatched his plot in the last
few hours, I reckon - your arrival must have seemed to
him a heaven-sent opportunity. He'd have taken it, too, if
I hadn't been on your tail from the moment you arrived in
the durbar room." He blew out his cheeks in disbelief. "I
still can't get over that damned bath! You won't linger
among the soap-suds again, I reckon."
That was enough to bring me to my feet, reaching for
his decanter without even a by-your-leave. God, what a
tarantula's nest Broadfoot had plunged me into! I still
couldn't put it straight in my mind, numb with the
whirlwind of the last few hours. Had I fallen asleep over Crotchet Castle and dreamed it all - my balcony acrobatics,
Mangia and Jawaheer and the dazzling spectacle of
the durbar room, the drunken ecstatic coupling with
Jeendan, the horror of the descending stone, the furious
bloody scramble in which five lives were snuffed out in a
bare minute, this incredible tartan Nemesis with his
Khyber knife and Yankee twang,22 eyeing me bleakly as I
punished his malt? Belatedly, I mumbled my thanks,
adding that Broadfoot was lucky to have such an agent in
Lahore. He snapped my head off.
"I'm not his confounded agent! I'm his friend - and so
far as my duty to the Maharaja allows, I'm sympathetic to
British interest. Broadfoot knows I'll help, which is why
he gave you my watchword." He restrained himself with )
difficulty. "Inadvertently, by jiminy! But that's all, Mr
Flashman. You and I will now go our separate ways, you
won't address or even recognise me henceforth except as
Gurdana Khan -" ^ ;
"Henceforth? But I'll be going back - man alive, I can't
stay here now, with Jawaheer "
"The devil you can't! It's your duty, isn't it? Just
because the war isn't going to start tomorrow doesn't
mean it won't happen eventually. Oh, it will - and that's
fcll^ ^ ..iSt^ ,105.. '; 'il|^%,. -...iim'
Kift %^ IS! '-M^Wy-
when Broadfoot needs you here." For someone who wasn't Broadfoot's man, he seemed to know a deal about
my duty. "Besides, after tonight you're in clear water
That bath-house will tell its own story: everyone will know
Jawaheer tried to rub you out - and why. But no one win breathe a word about it - including yourself." Seeing me
about to protest, he cut in: "Not a word! It would cause a
scandal that might start Jawaheer's war for him - so mum
Mr Flashman. And don't fret yourself - now that you're
under Mai Jeendan's protection, the worst Jawaheer'U
dare give you is a black look."
I'd heard this kind of assurance before. "Why the
blazes should she protect me?"
"Now, don't come the delicate with me, sir!" He stabbed
a lean finger at me, Uncle Sam with a Kandahar
haircut. "You know right well why, and so does every
tattle-tale in this blasted royal bordello! Oh, sure, she has
her political reasons, too. Well, just keep your mouth shut
and be thankful." He nodded grimly. "And now, if
you're recovered, we'll return you to your quarters. And
don't say Wisconsin again unless you mean it. Jemadar,
idderaol"* ^1!
An under-officer appeared like magic, and Gardner
told him I was to have a couple of discreet shadows henceforth.
He asked if anyone had been seeking me, and the jemadar said only my orderly. |
Gardner frowned. "Who's he - one of Broadfoot's
Pathans? I didn't see him arrive with you."
I explained that Jassa had a habit of vanishing when
most needed, and that he wasn't a Pathan - or the dervish
he claimed to be.
"A dervish?" He stared. "What does he look like?"
I described Jassa, down to the vaccination mark, and he
swore in astonishment and took a turn round the room.
"I'll be ... no, it couldn't be! I haven't heard of hint^
""'Lieutenant, come here!" .
wears - and even he wouldn't have the hard neck . ..
vu're sure he's a Broadfoot man? And no beard, eh? Well we'll see! Jemadar, find the orderly, tell him the husoor wants him, double quick - and if he asks, say I'm
nut at Maian Mir. You sit down, Mr Flashman ... I
suspect this may interest you."
After the events of the night, I doubted if Lahore could
hold any further surprises - but d'you know, what followed
was perhaps the most astonishing encounter
between two men that ever I saw - and I was at Appomattox
remember, and saw Bismarck and Gully face to face
with the mauleys, and held the shotgun when Hickok
confronted Wesley Hardin. But what took place in Gardner's
room laid over any of them.
We waited in silence until the jemadar knocked, and
Jassa slid in, shifty as always. The moment his eye fell on
the grim tartan figure he started as though he'd trod on
hot coals, but then he recovered and looked inquiringly to
me while Gardner viewed him almost in admiration.
"Not bad, Josiah," says he. "You may have the
guiltiest conscience east of Suez, but by God you've sure
got the brazenest forehead to go with it. I'd never ha'
known you, clean-shaven." His voice hardened to a bark.
"Now then - what's the game? Speak up, /'i7di!"
"None o' your goddam' business!" snaps Jassa. "I'm a
political agent in British service - ask him if you don't
believe me! And that puts me outside your touch, Alick
Gardner! So now!"
Said in Pushtu, I'd have held it a good answer - reckless,
from what I'd seen of Gardner, but about what you'd
expect from a Khyberie tough. But it was said in English - ^th an accent even more American than Gardner's own!
1 couldn't credit my ears - one bloody Yankee promenad- "^ about in Afghan fig was bad enough - but two? And
he second one my own orderly, courtesy of Broadfoot
if I sat open-mouthed, d'you wonder? Gardner exploded. .
''':'. .- ' "
107
I
"British political, my eye! Why, you crooked Quaker
you, if you're working for Broadfoot it must mean he
doesn't know who you are! And he doesn't, I'll bet! No
because you're before his time, Josiah - you skipped out
of Kabul before the British arrived, and wise you were' Sekundar Bumes knew you, though - for the doubledealing
rascal you are! Pollock knows you, too - he ran
you out of Burma, didn't he? Damn me if there's a town
between Rangoon and Basra that you haven't left a shin in! So, let's have it - what's your lay this time?" 4 |
"I don't answer to you," says Jassa. "Mr Flashman, if
you care for this, I don't. You know I'm Major Broadfoot's
agent "
"Hold your tongue or I'll have it out!" roars Gardner.
"Outside my touch, are you? We'll see! You know this
man as Jassa," says he to me. "Well, let me perform the
honours by presenting Dr Josiah Harlan of Philadelphia,
former packet-rat, impostor, coiner, spy, traitor, revolutionary,
and expert in every rascality he can think of - and
can't he think, just? No common blackguard, mind you Prince
of Ghor once, weren't you, Josiah, and unfrocked
governor of Gujerat, to say nothing of being a pretender
(it's the truth, Flashman) to the throne of Afghanistan, no
less! You know what they call this beauty up in the high
hills? The Man Who Would Be King!" He came forward,
thumbs in his belt, and stuck his jaw in Jassa's face.
"Well, you have one minute to tell me what you would be
in Lahore, doctor! And don't say you're an orderly, pure
and simple, because you've never been either!"
Jassa didn't move a muscle of his ugly, pockmarked
face, but turned to me with a little inclination of his head.
"Leaving aside the insults, part of what he says is true. I
was Prince of Ghor - but Colonel Gardner's memory is a1 fault. He hasn't told you that Lord Amherst personally
appointed me surgeon to His Britannic Majesty's forces in
the Burmese campaign "
"Assistant surgeon, stealing spirits in an artillery field
108
hospital!" scoffs Gardner.
"_ or that I held high military command and the
eovernorship of three districts under his late majesty,
Raja Runjeet Singh "
"Who kicked you out for counterfeiting, you damned
scamp! Go ahead, tell him how you were ambassador to
Dost Mohammed, and tried to start a revolution in
Afghanistan, and sold him out more times than he could
count! Tell him how you suborned Muhammed Khan to
betray Peshawar to the Sikhs! Tell him how you lined your
pockets on the Kunduz expedition, and cheated Reffi
Bey, and had the gall to plant the Stars and Stripes on the
Indian Caucasus, damn your impudence!" He paused for
breath while Jassa stood cool as a trout. "But why waste
time? Tell him how you passed yourself off on Broadfoot.
I'd enjoy hearing that, myself!"
Jassa gave him an inquiring look, as though to make
sure he was done, and addressed me. "Mr Flashman, I
owe you an explanation, but not an apology. Why should I
have told you what your own chief didn't? Broadfoot
enlisted me more than a year ago; how much of my history
he knows, I can't say - and I don't care. He knows his
business and he trusts me, or I wouldn't be here. If you
doubt me now, write to him, telling him what you've
heard tonight. .. like everyone who's mixed in diplomacy
in these parts, I'm used to having my reputation blown
upon "
"So hard that it's scattered all over the bloody
Himalayas!" snarls Gardner. "If you're so all-fired trustworthy
.. . where were you tonight when Jawaheer tried
to kill Flashman?"
He was clever, Gardner. Knowing his man as he did, the question must have been in his mind from the first, but "e d held it back to take Jassa off guard. He succeeded;
lassa gaped, stared from Gardner to me and back, and
gasped hoarsely: "What the hell d'you mean?"
Gardner told him in a few fierce sentences, watching
109
him lynx-eyed, and Jassa was a sight to see. The bounce
had quite gone out of him, and all he could do was rub his
face and mutter "Jesus!" before turning helplessly to me.
"I ... I don't know ... I must have been asleep, sir'
After I pulled you on to the balcony, and you went off to
i'jjj the durbar room .. . well, I reckoned you were there for
the night ..." He avoided my eye. "I ... I went to bed
woke up an hour ago, saw you hadn't returned, asked
around for you, but no one had seen you . . . then the jemadar came for me just now. That's the truth." He
rubbed his face again, and caught Gardner's eye. "Christ,
you don't think "
"No, I don't!" growls Gardner, and shook his head at
me. "Whatever else you are - and that's plenty - you're
not a murderer. And if you were, you'd be in the tall
timber this minute. No, Josiah," says he with grim
satisfaction, "you're just a lousy bodyguard - and I suggest
Mr Flashman reports that to Major Broadfoot, too.
And until he gets a reply, you can cool your heels in a cell,
doctor-" - i-
"The hell I can!" cries Jassa, and turns to me. "Mr
Flashman ... I don't know what to say, sir! I've failed you,
I know that - and I'm sorry for it. If Major Broadfoot sees
fit to recall me . . . well, so be it. But it's not his business,
sir!" He pointed at Gardner. "As far as he's concerned,
I'm under British protection, and entitled to immunity.
And with respect, sir-in spite of my failure tonight... I'm still at your service. You mustn't disown me, sir."
Well, I'd had a long day, and night. The shock of discovering
that my Afghan orderly was an American medical
man23 (and no doubt as big a villain as Gardner said)
was quite small beer after all the rest. No more of a shock
than Gardner himself, really. One thing was sure: Jassa,
or Josiah, was Broadfoot's man, and he was right, I
couldn't disown him on Gardner's suspicions. I said so,
and much to my surprise, Gardner didn't shout me down,
although he gave me a long hard stare.
"After what I've told you about him? Well, sir, it's on
nur own head. It's possible you won't rue the day, but I ^oubt it." He turned to Jassa. "As for you, Josiah ... I
don't know what brings you back to the Punjab in another
ofvour disguises. I know it wasn't Jawaheer, or anything as
simple as British political work ... no, it's some dirty little
frolic of your own, isn't it? Well, you forget it, doctor because
if you don't, immunity or not, I'll send you back to
Broadfoot by tying you over a gun and blowing you clear to
Simla. You can count on that. Good-night, MrFlashman."
The jemadar led us back to my quarters through a maze
of corridors that was no more confused than my mind; I
was dog-tired and still mortally shaken, and had neither
the wit nor the will to question my newly-revealed
Afghan-American orderly, who kept up a muttered
stream of apology and justification the whole way. He'd
never have forgiven himself if any harm had come to me,
and I must write to Broadfoot instanter to establish his
bona fides; he wouldn't rest until Gardner's calumnies
had been disproved.
"Alick means no harm - we've known each other for
years, but truth is, you see, he's jealous, us both being
American and all, and he hasn't risen any too high, while
I've been prince and ambassador, as he said - course, fate
hasn't been too kind lately, which is why I took any
honourable employment that came .. . God, I've no
words of excuse or apology, sir, for my lapse tonight . . .
what must you think, what will Broadfoot think? Say,
though, I'd like him to understand about my losing my
governorship - it wasn't coining, no sir! I dabble in
chemistry, see, and there was this experiment that went wrong..."
He was still chuntering when we reached my door,
where I was reassured to see two stalwart constables,
presumably sent by Bhai Ram Singh. Jassa - with that "gly frontier dial and dress I could think of him by no "tter name - swore he'd be on hand too, from this
111
moment, closer than a brother, why, he'd bed down right
here in the passage . . .
I closed my door, head swimming with fatigue, and
rested a moment in blessed solitude and quiet before
walking unsteadily through the arch to the bedchamber
where two lights burned dimly either side of the pillow and
stopped, the hairs rising on my neck. There was
someone in the bed, and a drift of perfume on the air, and
before I could move or cry out, a woman whispered out of
the gloom.
"Mai Jeendan must have eaten her fill," says Mangla.
"It is almost dawn."
I stepped closer, staring. She was lying naked beneath a
flimsy veil of black gauze spread over her like a sheet -
they've nothing to learn about erotic display in the
Punjab, I can tell you. I looked down at her, swaying, and
it shows how fagged out I was, for I asked, like a damfool:
"What are you doing here?"
"Do you not remember?" murmurs she, and I saw her
teeth gleam as she smiled up from the pillow, her black
hair spread across it like a fan. "After the mistress has
supped, it is the maid's turn." j
"Oh, my God," says I. "I ain't hungry."
"Are you not?" whispers she. "Then I must whet your
appetite." And she sat up, slow and languid, stretching
that transparent veil tight against her body, pouting at me.
"Will you taste, husoor?"
For a moment I was tempted. Altogether used up, fit
only for the knacker's yard, I wanted sleep as I wanted
salvation. But as I contemplated that magnificent substance
stirring beneath the gauze, I thought: to thine own
self be true, and put temptation aside.
"Right you are, my dear," says I. "Got any more of
that jolly drink, have you?"
She laughed softly and reached out for the cup beside
the bed.
112
If you've read Robinson Crusoe you may
recall a passage where he weighs up his plight on the
desert island like a book-keeper, evil on one side, good on
t'other. Dispiriting stuff, mainly, in which he croaks about
solitude, but concludes that things might be worse, and
God will see him through, with luck. Optimism run mad,
if you ask me, but then I've never been shipwrecked,
much, and philosophy in the face of tribulation ain't my
line. But I did use his system on waking that second day in
Lahore, because so much had happened in such short
?ed,ed to set my mind straight. Thus:
space that I
's*y' '': 
EVIL ;
te-
I am cut off in a savage
land which will be at war
with my own country presently.
An attempt has been made to
assassinate me. These buggers
would sooner murder people
than eat their dinners.
My orderly turns out to be
Ae greatest villain since
Dick Turpin, and is an
American to boot.
Oamn Broadfoot for landing
me in this stew, when I
could have been safe at
"omerogeringElspeth.
GOOD - 
I enjoy diplomatic immunity,
for what it's worth, and am
in good health, but ruined.
It failed, and I am under the
protection of the queen bee,
who rides like a rabbit. Also,
Gardner will look out for me.
Broadfoot chose him, and since
I see no reason why he should
be hostile to me, I shall
watch him like a hawk.
Rations and quarters are Al,
and Mangia sober is a capital
mount, though she don't
compare to Jeendan drunk.
113
If I were a praying man. Being a pagan (attached C "3 the Almighty would hear of E) with no divine
from me in no uncertain resources, I shall tread ^_
terms, and much good it uncommon wary and keep my
would do me. pepperbox handy.
That was my accounting, cast up in the drowsy hour
after Mangia slipped away like a lovely ghost at daybreak
and it could have been worse. My first task must be to
make a searching examination of the bold Jassa, or Josiah,
before sending off a cypher about him to Broadfoot. So I
had him in while I shaved, watching that crafty hill figure. head in my mirror, and listening to the plausible Yankee patter that came out of it. Oddly enough, after the character
Gardner had given him, I felt inclined to take him at
face value. You see, I'm a knave myself, and know that
we wrong 'uns ain't always bent on mischief; it seemed to
me that Jassa, the professional soldier of fortune, was
quite likely just marking time in Broadfoot's employ, as
he'd claimed, until something better turned up. The
queerest fish swim into the political mill, with not too
many questions asked, and I felt I could accept if not trust
him. Like Gardner, I was sure he'd had no hand in the
plot against my life - if he'd wanted me dead he could
have let me drop from the balcony instead of saving me.
It was comforting, too, to have one of my own kind
alongside me - and one who knew the Punjab and its
politics inside out. "Though how you hoped to pass unrecognised,
I don't see," says I. "If you were so high under
Runjeet, half the country must know you, surely?"
"That was six years ago, behind a full set o' beard an'
whiskers," says he. "Clean-shaven, I reckoned to get by -
'cept with Alick, but I planned to keep out o' his way. But
it don't matter," he added coolly, "there are no reward
notices out for Joe Harlan, here or anywhere else."
He was such a patent rascal that I took to him - and even
now I won't say I was wrong. He had a fine political nose,
too, and had been using it about the Port that morning.
"jawaheer seems to be in luck. The whole palace knows he tried to get you, and the talk was that the
Maharani would have him arrested. But she had him to
her boudoir first thing today, all smiles, embraced him,
and drank toasts to his reconciliation to the Khalsa, her
maids say. It seems Dinanath and Azizudeen have made
his peace for him; they were out talking to the punches at
dawn, and Jawaheer's appearance this afternoon will be a
formality. He and the whole royal family will review the
troops - and you'll be invited, no doubt so that you can
pass word to Broadfoot that all's well with the Lahore
durbar." He grinned. "Yes, sir, you'll have quite a packet of news for Simla. How d'you send out your cyphers "through
Mangia?"
"As you said yourself, doctor, why should I tell you what
Broadfoot didn't? Are you really a doctor, by the way?"
"No diploma," says he frankly, "but I studied surgery
back in Pennsylvania. Yep .. . I'll bet it's Mangia; that
little puss is in everyone's pocket, so why not John Company's?
A word of advice, though: cover her all you've a
mind to, but don't trust her - or Mai Jeendan." And
before I could damn his impudence he took himself off to
change, as he put it, into his mess kit. ^
That meant his best robes, for our durbar appearance at
noon, with Flashy in full fig of frock coat and go-to-meeting
roof, making my official bow to little Dalip enthroned in state; you'd not have recognised the lively imp of
yesterday in the regal little figure all in silver, nodding his
aigretted turban most condescendingly when I was presented
by Lal Singh, who was second minister. Jawaheer was
nowhere in sight, but Dinanath, old Bhai Ram Singh, and
Azizudeen were present, solemn as priests. It was eerie,
knowing that they were all well aware that their Wazir had toed to murder me a few hours earlier, and that I'd rioted ^th their Maharani in this very chamber. There wasn't so "luch as a nicker on the handsome, bearded faces;
damned good form, the Sikhs.
115 ^
Behind Dalip's throne hung a fine lace curtain, the
purdah of his mother, the Maharani - it being the custom
of quality Indian ladies to seclude themselves, when they ain't belly-dancing at orgies, that is. By the curtain stood
Mangia, unveiled but most modestly dressed, and formal
as though we'd never laid eyes on each other. Her duty was to relay conversation to and from her mistress behind
the screen, and she did it most properly, welcoming me to
Lahore, inviting blessings on my work, and finally, as
Jassa had forecast, bidding me to attend his majesty when
he reviewed the Khalsa that afternoon.
"You shall ride on an elephant!" squeaks the said
majesty, lapsing from kingly dignity for a moment, and
then stiffening before the reproving glances of his court. I
said gravely that I'd be honoured beyond measure, he
shot me a shy little smile, and then I backed from the
presence, turning and resuming my tile only when I
reached the rug in the doorway, as form demanded. To
my surprise, Lal Singh came after me, taking my arm,
all smiles, and insisting on giving me a conducted tour
of the arsenal and foundry, which were close by the Sleeping
Palace. Since I'd spent half the night sporting with his
lady love, I found this affability disconcerting, until he
took me flat aback by speaking of her with alarming
frankness.
"Mai Jeendan had hoped to come out from purdah to
greet you after the durbar," confides he. "Alas, she is a
little drunk from toasting her abominable brother, in a
vain effort to put some courage into him. You can have no
notion what a poltroon he is! The thought of facing the
Khalsa quite unmans him, even now when all is settled.
But she will certainly send for you afterwards; she has
important messages for the envoy of the Sirkar." 1
I said I was at her majesty's service, and he smiled.
"So I have heard." Seeing me stare, he laughed aloud.
"My dear friend, you look at me as though I were a rival!
Believe me, with Mai Jeendan there is no such thing! She
is no one's mistress but her own. Let us fortunate fellows
thank God for it. Now, you shall give me your opinion of
our Punjabi muskets - are they not a match for Brown
Bess?"
At the time, I was all suspicion; only later did I realise
that Lal Singh meant every word he said - and Mai
Jeendan was the least of what he wanted to tell me that
day. When we'd examined the small arms, stocked in
impressive numbers, and the forges, and the casting of a
great white-hot nine-pounder gun, and the rain of lead
hitting the steaming vats in the shot tower, and I'd agreed
that the Khalsa's armoury compared well with our own,
he took me by the arm as we walked, most confidential.
"You are right," says he,, "but arms are not everything.
On the day, victory and defeat rest with the generals. If
ever the Khalsa took the field, it might well be under my
leadership, and Tej Singh's." He sighed, smiling, and
shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder how we should
acquit ourselves against ... oh, against such a seasoned
campaigner as your Sir Hugh Gough. What would you
think, Flashman sahib?"
Wondering, I said that Gough wasn't the most scientific
soldier since Boney, but he was probably the toughest. Lal
Singh nodded, stroking his beard, and then laughed merrily.
"Well, we must hope it is never put to the test, eh?
Now, we set out for Maian Mir in an hour - may I offer
you some refreshment?"
They're so devious, these folk, you never know what Aey're up to. Was he hinting that if it came to war, he was
ready to fight a cross? Or trying a bamboozle? Or just
gassing? Whatever his purpose, he must know that
nothing he said could make Gough drop his guard. It was a" most interesting, and gave me food for thought until "e homs sounded to signal the departure of the royal
Progress to Maian Mir.
The procession was drawn up outside the Bright Gate, anu ^en I saw it I thought: that's India. It was Arabian
117
Nights come to life: two battalions of the Palace Guard in
their red and yellow silks, and in their midst half a dozen
elephants, gorgeously caparisoned in blue and gold saddlecloths
that swept the ground, jewelled harness on their
heads, their tusks and even the mahouts' goads tipped with gold. The howdahs were little coloured palaces topped
with minarets and silk canopies which stirred as the
great beasts swayed and bellowed, the keepers quieting
them as they waited for their royal freight. Horsemen in
steel casques that shone like silver in the sunlight rode up
and down the elephant line, their sabres drawn; they converged
like clockwork to form a lane from the gate for
porters who came bearing enormous panniers brimming
with coin, preceded by chamberlains who supervised the
strapping of the panniers to the howdahs of the third and
second elephants. When some of the coins fell in a tinkling
shower to the dust, there was a great "Oo-h!" from the
crowd assembled to see the show; two or three of the
horsemen leaned from their saddles, scooping up the
rupees and hurling them over the heads of the rigid guardsmen
to the mob, who yelled and scuffled for them - for a
country that was supposed to be short of blunt, there
seemed to be no lack of pice* to fling to the beggars.
Two of the chamberlains mounted the third elephant,
and now came a little knot of courtiers, led by Lal Singh,
all brave in green and gold; they mounted into the fifth
howdah, and a chamberlain who'd been shepherding
Jassa and me indicated that we should mount the ladder
on the fourth beast. We climbed Up and as I seated myself
the muted grumble of the crowd took on a new note 1 knew exactly why: they were asking each other, who's the
foreigner, then, who takes precedence over the royal
courtiers? He must be an infidel of note, doubtless the
English Queen's son, or a Jewish moneylender from
Karachi; well, give the unbelieving swine a cheer. I doffed

118
1!

tile looking out over that astonishing scene: ahead, rs^ great mammoths with their swaying howdahs, and ^ther side the horsemen, the yellow Guards, and beyond ^vast sea of brown faces; the walls flanking the Bright a ,g were black with spectators, as were the buildings behind, with the great column of the Summum Boorj
towering over all. The baying of the crowd rose again, and
now there was a disturbance below my elephant, the yellow
line of Guardsmen breaking to let in a wild figure who ;apered and waved to me: he was a burly Ghazi of a
fellow, bandoliered and bearded to the eyebrows, yelling
in Pushtu:
"Ai-ee, Bloody Lance! It is I, Shadman Khan! Remember
me? Salaam, soldier, heepheepheephoorah!"
Well, I didn't remember him, but plainly he was someone from the old days, so I lifted my lid again, callng:
"Salaam, Shadman Khan!" and he shouted with
ielight and yelled, in English: "Stand fast, foorteeborth!"
- and in an instant I was looking down on the Aoody snow over Gandamack, with the remnants of the (4th being cut down by the tribesmen swarming over their position . . . and I wondered which side he'd been on
hen. (I've since remembered that there was a Shadman <han among those ruffians who held me in Gul Shah's
lungeon, and yet another among the band who saved me from the Thugs at Jhansi in '57 and stole our horses on the way to Cawnpore. I wonder if they were all the same man.
t has no bearing on my present tale, anyway; it was just
m incident at the Bright Gate. But I think it was the same
nan; everybody changed sides in the old days.)
Now there was a sudden hush, broken by the strains of
weet music, and out from the Bright Gate came a native
'and, followed by a tiny figure in cloth of gold, mounted
>n a white pony; a thunderous salaam rolled out from the waiting crowd: "Maharaj'! Maharaj'!" as little Dalip was
ifted from his saddle by a richly-clad courtier whom I cognised with a shock as Jawaheer Singh. He seemed
119
sober enough now, and I've never seen a man grin so
eagerly as he perched Dalip on his shoulder and gestured
to the crowd, inviting their acclaim. They roared willingly
enough, but I detected an undertone of groans which I
imagine were meant for Jawaheer himself. He mounted
with Dalip to the first elephant, and then out from the gate
stalks Gardner, staring grimly right and left, and followed
by a party of his black robes, guarding a paiki* beside
which Mangia walked unveiled. It stopped, and she drew
the curtains and handed out the Maharani Jeendan: she
was all in shimmering white, and although she wore a
gauzy purdah veil I believe I'd have recognised that
hourglass figure anywhere. She'd got over her drunk, by
the looks of it, for she walked steadily to the second
ielephant, and Gardner handed her up to an absolute bellow
of cheering - there's no doubt about it, all the world
loves Nell Gwynn. Mangia mounted beside her, and then
Gardner stepped back and surveyed the procession, your
good bodyguard alert for trouble. His eye passed over me
and lingered for a moment on Jassa; then he had given the
signal, the band struck up a march, the elephant lurched
and bellowed beneath us, and off we swayed with a great
creaking of harness and jingling of outriders, while the
mob roared again and the dust swirled up from the tramp
of the Guardsmen.
We skirted under the high city walls, thronged with folk
who threw blossoms and shouted blessings on the little
Maharaja; they were swarming like bees on the ramparts
of the Kashmir Gate, and then as we rounded the angle of
the wall beneath the huge Half-moon Battery there came
from far ahead the report of cannon -- a continuous rumble
of firing, one gun after another (a hundred and eighty,
I'm told, though I didn't count 'em). The elephants
squealed in alarm, and the howdahs bucked from side to
side so hard that we had to cling on to prevent being
Litter, usually curtained. '%a W^i .;-,.,
J& ;:^ J^:Wm H ......IP
i -.;.^'.i, l^i-^.^ W- WK^S^
nitched out, with the mahouts flat on their beasts' heads,^
Steadying them with goad and voice. As we came under
the Delhi Gate the firing ceased, to be replaced by a
distant measured tread, thousands of marching men, and I
craned out to look as the procession swung away from the
dty, and saw an astonishing sight.
Coming towards us, all in immaculate line, were four
battalions of the Khalsa, a solid wall of infantry half a mile
from wing to wing, the dust rising before them in a low
cloud, their drummers and standard bearers to the fore. I
didn't know it then, but they were absolutely marching on (Lahore to bring Jawaheer out by force, having lost
patience after waiting for him all day; you could almost
Iread the purpose in the grim inexorable approach of that
disciplined host, the green jackets of Sikh infantry and the
blue turbans of the Dogras on the left, the scarlet coats
and shakos of regular foot on the right.
Our procession slowed and half-halted, but with the
howdahs of Jeendan and the chamberlains in front I
couldn't see what was happening with Jawaheer -1 could
hear him, though, shouting shrilly, and the armoured horsemen
converged on his elephant, while the yellow
Guardsmen tramped stolidly on. Our procession forged
ahead towards the centre of the Khalsa line, and just as it
seemed as though we must collide the advancing host split
into two, wheeling into columns which advanced down
either side of us - and I've never seen anything to match it
for drill, not even on Horse Guards. I watched them strid"ig
by beyond our yellow Guardsmen, and wondered for a moment if they meant to pass us altogether, but a burly 'vsaldar-major came tearing out on the flank, reining in
nudway down the procession, rose in his stirrups, and at "ie exact moment bawled in a voice you could have heard "i Delhi: "Battalions - abou-tah!" ^
There was the tremendous one-two-three-four crash as
. y marked time and turned - and then they were marchi
^ wlt!1 us, a solid mass of two thousand infantry on
i4^- , ^a'-.^121 ^' %
either filank, shakos and red coats to the right, blue and
green turbans to the left. Well, thinks I, whether Ja}vaheer
takes it for a prisoner's escort or a guard of honour
he can't; complain that they haven't received him in styled
I could hear him, crying "Shabash!" in compliment, and
on the lelephant ahead of us the chamberlains were on
their feet, scooping up rupees in little hand-shovels, and
hurling them over the yellow Guardsmen at the Khalsa
battalions. They guttered in the air like silver rain, falling
among the marching Sikhs - and not a man wavered in his
step or even glanced aside. The chamberlains shovelled
away for dear life, emptying the panniers and spraying the
dust with their rupees, screaming to the troops that this
was the gift of their loving monarch and his Wazir, Raja
Jawaheer Singh, God bless him, but for all the heed the
Khalsa paid it might as well have been bird-droppings,
and behind me I heard Jassa mutter: "Save your dollars,
boys, th<ey ain't buying you a thing."
Another roar from the rissaldar-major and the escorting
battalions crashed to a halt, stock-still in the swirling dust.
Our procession lumbered on, wheeling left as we emerged
from between those grim ranks, and as our beast turned to
follow the leaders, there all of a sudden on our right flank
was the whole Khalsa, drawn up in review, horse, foot,
and gums, squadron upon squadron, battalion upon battalion,
a;s far as the eye could see.
I'd seen it before, and been impressed; what I felt now
was awe;. Then it had been at exercise; now it was dead
still, at attention, eighty thousand men and not a movement
except for the gentle stirring of the standards before
the battalions, the flutter of pennons on the lances at rest,
and the occasional tossing of a horse's mane. And it's
strange: the tramp of our Guardsmen and the groaning of
the elephants' harness must have been loud enough to r
wake the; dead, but all I remember now is the silence as we -U
passed slowly before that tremendous army.
There was a sudden shrill voice from the second
122
elephant, and damme if Jeendan and Mangia weren't flinging out baksheesh, too, as the chamberlains had done, and calling out to the soldiers to accept their
bounty, to remember their oaths to the Maharaja, and to
stand true to their salt for the honour of the Khalsa. Still
not a man moved, and as the women's voices died away I
felt a chill in spite of the heat of the westering sun, and
then someone shouted a command to halt, and the
elephants lumbered to a standstill.
There was a little cluster of tents ahead, beside the
leading beast, and a group of senior officers before it.
Akalis were moving down the line, shouting to the
mahouts to dismount, and as our elephant sank to its
knees I felt nothing but relief - you're uncomfortably
conspicuous in a howdah, I can tell you, especially with
eighty thousand bearded graven images glaring blindly at
you from point-blank range. There was a clatter of
hooves, and there was Gardner by the second elephant, ordering servants who helped Jeendan and Mangia down
and led them towards one of the pavilions, where handmaidens
were waiting to receive them - pretty butterfly
figures in silks and gauzes altogether out of place before
that great martial host in leather and serge and steel.
Gardner caught my eye and jerked his head, and without
waiting for a ladder I dropped to the ground with as much
dignity as I could, clutching my topper in place. Jassa
followed, and I saw that Lal Singh and the courtiers had
also descended. I walked towards Gardner's horse, and
noticed that only Jawaheer's elephant was still standing;
he was sitting in the howdah, clutching little Dalip to him
and complaining shrilly to the Akalis who were angrily
ordering his mahout to make the elephant kneel.
Another order was shouted, and now the yellow Guardsmen
began to march away, the armoured horsemen cantering
ahead of them. At this Jawaheer was on his feet,
demanding to know where his escort was going, shouting
to his mahout not to take the elephant down; he was in a
123
great passion, and as his head turned I caught the gleam of
the great diamond in his turban aigrette - Good Lord
that's Jeendan's belly-button, thinks I, how it does get
about . . . and now Gardner was leaning down from his
saddle and addressing me rapidly in English:
"Go and help the Maharaja down - go on, man,
quickly! It'll please the troops - make a fine impression!
Get him, Flashman!"
It all happened in split seconds. There I was, aware only
that Jawaheer was in a fine taking about the reception he
was receiving, that Gardner was making what sounded
like an excellent diplomatic suggestion - kindly old John
Bull giving the heathen princeling a piggy-back before his
powers assembled, and all that - but even as he spoke I
saw that an Akali had scrambled up into the howdah and
seemed to be trying to pull Dalip away; Jawaheer
screamed, the Akali hit him in the face, Jawaheer dropped
the child and cowered away, there was a zeep! of
drawn steel at my back - and I started round to find half a
dozen Sikhs almost on top of me, tulwars drawn and yelling
blue murder.
I didn't wait to advise Gardner to help the Maharaja
down himself. I was past his horse like a stung whippet and
ran slap into the elephant's arse, fell back with a yell
of terror into the path of the charging Sikhs, made a dive
to get under the elephant's trailing saddle-cloth, stumbled
and became entangled, struggled free - and something hit
me an almighty blow across the shoulders, driving me to
'my knees. I clutched wildly behind me, and found myself
with little Dalip in my arms, fallen from aloft, and a mob
of raging madmen hurling me aside to get at the elephant.
There was a choking scream from overhead, and there
was Jawaheer sprawling over the side of the howdah, arms
outstretched, with a spear shaft buried in his chest, blood
spewing from his mouth and showering down on me. The
attackers were swarming into the howdah, slashing at him;
suddenly his face was a bloody mask, his turban slipped
124
from his head, a great length of blood-sodden silk snaking ^ down at me. Gardner's horse reared above me, men were yelling and women shrieking, I could hear the hideous
sound of the tulwars cutting into Jawaheer's body, and
still he was screaming and blood was everywhere, in my
eyes and mouth, on the gold coat of little Dalip in my arms
-I tried to throw him away, but the young blighter had me .1;
fast round the neck and wouldn't leave go. Someone ,^.'t Is seized me by the arm - Jassa, a pistol in his free hand.l^'Gardner
urged his horse between us and the slaughter, a knocking Jassa's pistol from his grasp and shouting to him .
to get us away, and I blundered towards the tents with that
confounded infant hanging from my neck - and not a
sound out of him, either. |<
The turban cloth had draped itself across my face, and '.^l
as I dragged the disgusting thing clear and sank to my
knees, Dalip still clung to me with one hand, and in the ^ other, dripping with his uncle's gore, was the great S
diamond that had fallen from Jawaheer's aigrette. How
the brat had got hold of it. God knows, but there it was,
almost filling his small hand, and he stared at me with
great round eyes and piped: "Koh-i-Noor! Koh-i-Noor!" , _
Then he was whisked away from me, and as I came to my ^|
feet I saw he was clasped in his mother's arms beside the
tent, bloodying her veil and white sari.
"Oh, my Christ!" groans Jassa, and I looked past him
and saw Jawaheer, crimson from head to foot, slide over
the side of the howdah and fall headlong in the dust with
his life flooding out of him - and still those fiends hacked ? and stabbed at his corpse, while some even emptied their musketsand pistols into it, until the air was thick with the ;
reek of black powder smoke.
It was Gardner who hustled us to one of the smaller
tents while his black robes surrounded Jeendan, Dalip, ^d the screeching women, shepherding them to the main
Pavilion. He cast a quick glance at the mob struggling
about Jawaheer's corpse, and then twitched our tent
/.-^125 .
curtain shut. He was breathing hard, but cool as you
please.
"Well, how d'ye like that for a drumhead court-martial
Mr Flashman?" He laughed softly. "Khalsa justice - the
damned fools!"
I was a-tremble at the shocking, sudden butchery of it.
"You knew that was going to happen?"
"No, sir," says he calmly, "but nothing in this country
surprises me. By the holy, you're a sight! Josiah, get some
water and clean him up! You're not wounded? Good-- now, lie low and be quiet, both of you! It's over and done,
see? The damned fools - listen to 'em, celebrating their
own funerals! Now, don't you budge till I come back!"
He strode out, leaving us to collect our breath and our
wits - and if you wonder what my thoughts were as Jassa
sponged the blood from my face and hands, I'll tell you.
Relief, and some satisfaction that Jawaheer was receipted
and filed, and that I'd come away with nothing worse than
a ruined frock coat. Not that they'd been out to get me,
but when you walk away from a scrimmage of that sort,
you're bound to put it down on Crusoe's good side, in
block capitals.
Jassa and I shared my flask, and for about half an hour
we sat listening to the babble of shouting and laughter and feux dejoie of the murderers' celebration, and the lamentations
from the neighbouring tent, while I digested this
latest of Lahore's horrors and wondered what might come
of it. . !^H
I suppose I'd seen the signs the previous day, in the rage
of the Khalsa punches, and Jawaheer's own terrors last
night - but this morning the talk had been that all was well
... . . aye, designed, no doubt, to bring him out to the
Khalsa in false hope, to a doom already fixed. Had his
peacemakers, Azizudeen and Dinanath, known what
would happen? Had his sister? Had Jawaheer himself
known, even, but been powerless to avert it? And now
that the Khalsa had shown its teeth . . . would it march
over the Sutlej? Would Hardinge, hearing of yet another
bloody coup, decide to intervene? Or would he still wait?
After all, it was nothing new in this horrible country.
I didn't know, then, that Jawaheer's murder was a turning-point.
To the Khalsa, it was just another demonstration
of their own might, another death sentence on a
leader who displeased them. They didn't realise they'd
handed power to the most ruthless ruler the Punjab had
seen since Runjeet Singh . . . she was in the next tent,
having hysterics so strident and prolonged that the noisy
mob outside finally gave over celebrating and looting the
gear from the royal procession; the shouting and laughter
died away, and now there was the sound of her voice
alone, sobbing and screaming by turns - and then it was
no longer in her tent, but outside, and Gardner slipped
back through our curtain, beckoning me to join him at the
entrance. I went, and peered out.
It was full dark now, but the space before the tents was
lit bright as day by torches in the hands of a vast semicircle
of Khalsa soldiery, thousands strong, staring in
silence at the spot where Jawaheer's body still lay on the
blood-soaked earth. The elephants and the regiments had
gone; all that remained was that great ring of bearded,
silent faces (and one of 'em was wearing my tall hat, damn
his impudence!), the huddled corpse, and kneeling over it,
wailing and beating the earth in an ecstasy of grief, the
small white-clad figure of the Maharani. Close by, their
hands on their hilts and their eyes on the Khalsa, a group
of Gardner's black robes stood guard.
She flung herself across the body, embracing it, calling
to it, and then knelt upright again, keening wildly, and
began to rock to and fro, tearing at her clothing like a mad
thing until she was bare to the waist, her unbound hair
flying from side to side. Before that dreadful uncontrolled
passion the watchers recoiled a step; some turned away or
hid their faces in their hands, and one or two even started
towards her but were pulled back by their mates. Then she
- 127
was on her feet, facing them, shaking her little fists and
screaming her hatred.
"Scum! Vermin! Lice! Butchers! Coward sons of dishonoured
mothers! A hundred thousand of you against
one - you gallant champions of the Punjab, you wondrous
heroes of the Khalsa, you noseless bastard offspring of
owls and swine who boast of your triumphs against the
Afghans and the prowess you'll show against the British!
You, who would run in terror from one English camp
sweeper and a Kabuli whore! Oh, you have the courage of
a pack of pi-dogs, to set on a poor soul unarmed - aiee
my brother, my brother, my Jawaheer, my prince!" From
raging she was sobbing again, rocking from side to side,
trailing her long hair across the body, then stooping to
cradle the horrid thing against her breast while she wailed
on a tremulous high note that slowly died away. They
watched her, some grim, some impassive, but most
shocked and dismayed at the violence of her grief.
Then she laid down the body, picked up a fallen tulwar from beside it, rose to her feet, and began slowly to pace
to and fro before them, her head turned to watch their
faces. It was a sight to shiver your spine: that small, graceful
figure, her white sari in rags about her hips, her bare
arms and breasts painted with her brother's blood, the
naked sword in her hand. She looked like some avenging
Fury from legend as she threw back her hair with a toss of
her head and her glare travelled along that silent circle of
faces. A stirring sight, if you know what I mean - there's a
picture I once saw that could have been drawn from her:
Clytemnestra after Agamemnon's death, cold steel and
brazen boobies and bedamned to you. Suddenly she stopped
by the body, facing them, and her voice was hard and
clear and cold as ice as she passed her free hand slowly
over her breasts and throat and face.
"For every drop of this blood, you will give a million.
You, the Khalsa, the pure ones. Pure as pig dung, brave
as mice, honoured as the panders of the bazaar, fit only
t , -" I shan't tell you what they were fit for, but it
sounded all the more obscene for being spoken without a
trace of anger. And they shrank from it - oh, there were
angry scowls and clenched fists here and there, but the
mass of them could only stare like rabbits before a snake.
I've seen women, royal mostly, who could cow strong men: Ranavalona with her basilisk stare, or Inna (my
second wife, you know, the Grand Duchess) with her
imperious blue eye; Lakshmibai of Jhansi could have
frozen the Khalsa in its tracks with a lift of her pretty chin.
Each in her own way - Jeendan did it by shocking 'em out
of their senses, flaunting her body while she lashed them
quietly with the language of the gutter. At last one of
them could take no more of it - an old white-bearded Sikh
flung down his torch and cries:
"No! No! It was no murder - it was the will of God!"
Some murmured in support of him, others cried him
down, and she waited until they were silent again.
"The will of God. Is that your excuse . . . you will
blaspheme, and hide behind God's will? Then hear mine the
will of your Maharani, mother of your king!" She
paused, looking from one side to the other of the silent
crowd. "You will give me the murderers, so that they may
pay. You will give them to me, or by that God with whose
will you make so free, I shall throw the snake in your
bosom!"
She struck the tulwar into the earth on the last word,
turned her back on them and walked quickly towards the
tents - Clytemnestra as ever was. With this difference,
that where Mrs Agamemnon had committed one murder,
she was contemplating a hundred thousand. As she passed
into her tent the light from within fell full on her face, and
there wasn't a trace of grief or anger. She was smiling.24
129
If there was one thing worse than Jawaheer's
murder it was his funeral, when his wives and slavegirls
were roasted alive along with his corpse, according to
custom. Like much beastliness in the world, suttee is
inspired by religion, which means there's no sense or
reason to it - I've yet to meet an Indian who could tell me
why it's done, even, except that it's a hallowed ritual, like
posting a sentry to mind the Duke of Wellington's horse
fifty years after the old fellow had kicked the bucket.
That, at least, was honest incompetence; if you want my
opinion of widow-burning, the main reason for it is that it
provides the sort of show the mob revels in, especially if
the victims are young and personable, as they were in
Jawaheer's case. I wouldn't have missed it myself, for it's
a fascinating horror - and I noticed, in my years in India,
that the breast-beating Christians who denounced it were
always first at the ringside.
No, my objection to it is on practical, not moral
grounds; it's a shameful waste of good womanhood, and
all the worse because the stupid bitches are all for it.
They've been brought up to believe it's meet and right to
be broiled along with the head of the house, you see why,
Alick Gardner told me of one funeral in Lahore
where some poor little lass of nine was excused burning as
being too young, and the silly chit threw herself off a high
building. They burned her corpse anyway. That's what
comes of religion and keeping women in ignorance. The
most educated (and devout) Indian female I ever knew,
Rani Lakshmibai, thought suttee beneath contempt; when
' -N
130
k asked her why, as a widow, she hadn't hopped on the old
man's pyre herself, she looked at me in disbelief and
rked: "Do you think I'm a fool?"
She wasn't, but her Punjabi sisters knew no better. ' ^
Jawaheer's body was brought, in several pieces, to the
dty on the day after his death, and the procession to the
ground of cremation took place under a red evening sky,
before an enormous throng, with little Dalip and Jeendan
and most of the nobility prostrating themselves before the suttees - two wives, stately handsome girls, and three
Kashmiri slaves, the prettiest wenches ever you saw, all in
their best finery with jewelled studs in their ears and noses
and gold embroidery on their silk trousers. I ain't a soft man, but it would have broken your heart to see those five
little beauties, who were made for fun and love and
laughter, walking to the pyre like guardsmen, heads up
and not a blink of fear, serenely scattering money to the
crowd, according to custom - and you wouldn't credit it,
those unutterable bastards of Sikh soldiers who were
meant to be guarding 'em, absolutely tore the money from
their hands, and yelled taunts and insults at them when
they tried to protest. Even when they got to the pyre,
those swine were tearing their jewels and ornaments from
them, and when the fire was lit one villain reached
through the smoke and tore the gold fringe from one of
the slaves' trousers - and these, according to their religion,
were meant to be sacred women.
There were groans from the crowd, but no one dared do
anything against the all-powerful military - and then an
astounding thing happened. One of the wives stood up
among the flames, and began to curse them. I can see her
still, a tall lovely girl all in white and gold, blood on her
face where her nose-stud had been ripped away, one hand
gripping her head-veil beneath her chin, the other raised
as she damned 'em root and branch, foretelling that the
race of Sikhs would be overthrown within the year, their
women widowed, and their land conquered and laid waste
y 131
- and suttees, you know, are supposed to have the gift of
prophecy. One of the spoilers jumped on the pyre and
swung his musket butt at her, and she fell back into the
fire where the four others were sitting calmly as the flames
rose and crackled about them. None of them made a
sound.25
I saw all this from the wall, the black smoke billowing
up to mingle with the low clouds under the crimson dusk,
and came away in such a boiling rage as I never felt on
behalf of anyone except myself. Aye, thinks I, let there be
a war (but keep me out of it) so that we can stamp these
foul woman-butchers flat, and put an end to their abominations.
I guess I'm like Alick Gardner: I can't abide wanton
cruelty to good-looking women. Not by other folk, ">< anyway, g^i . ;.".*'
That brave lass's malediction filled the crowd with
superstitious awe, but it had an even more important
effect - it put the fear of God into the Khalsa, and that
shaped their fate at a critical time. For after Jawaheer's
death they were in a great state of uncertainty and division,
with the hotheads clamouring for an immediate war
against us, and the more loyal element, who'd been dismayed
by Jeendan's harangue at Maian Mir, insisting that
nothing could be done until they'd made their peace with
her, the regent of their lawful king. The trouble was,
making peace meant surrendering those who'd plotted the
murder of Jawaheer, and they were a powerful clique. So
the debate raged among them, and meanwhile Jeendan
played her hand to admiration, refusing even to acknowledge
the Khalsa's existence, going daily to weep at Jawaheer's
tomb, heavily veiled and bowed with grief, and
winning the admiration of all for her piety; the rumour ran
that she'd even sworn off drink and fornication - a portent
that reduced the Khalsa to a state of stricken wonder by
all accounts.
In the end they gave in, and in response to their appeals
for audience she summoned them not to durbar but to the
yard under the Summum Boorj, receiving them in cold
silence while she sat veiled and swathed in her mourning
weeds, and Dinanath announced her terms. These
sounded impressively severe - total submission to her will,
and instant delivery of the murderers - but were in fact
part of an elaborate farce stage-managed by Mangla. She
and Lal Singh and a few other courtiers had been taken
prisoner by the Khalsa at the time of the murder, but
released soon after, since when they'd been politicking
furiously with Dinanath and the punches, arranging a
compromise. ^$?.
It amounted to this: the Khalsa grovelled to Jeendan,
gave up a few token prisoners, and promised to deliver
Pirthee Singh and the other leading plotters (who had
already decamped to the hills, by previous arrangement)
as soon as they were caught. In the meantime, would she
please forgive her loyal Khalsa, since they were showing
willing, and consider making war on the damned British in
the near future? For their part, they swore undying loyalty
to her as Queen Regent and Mother of All Sikhs. To this
she replied through Dinanath that while it was hardly
good enough, she was graciously pleased to accept their
submission, and hand back the token prisoners as a liberal
gesture. (Sensation and loyal cheers.) They must now give
her a little time to complete her mourning and recover
from the grievous shock of her brother's death; thereafter
she would receive them in full durbar to discuss such questions
as making war and appointing a new Wazir.
It was the kind of face-saving settlement that's arranged
daily at Westminster and in parish councils, and no one's
fooled except the public - and not all of them, either.
You may ask, where was Rashy during all these stirring
events? To which the answer is that, having mastered an
impulse to steal a horse and ride like hell for the Sutlej, I
was well in the background, doing what I'd ostensibly
come to Lahore for - namely, negotiate about the Soochet
legacy. This entailed sitting in a pleasant, airy chamber for
133
several hours a day, listening to interminable submissions
from venerable government officials who cited precedents
from Punjabi and British law, the Bible, the Koran, The
Times, and the Bombay Gazette. They were the most
tireless old bores you ever struck, red herring worshippers
to a man, asking nothing from me beyond an occasional
nod and an instruction to my babu to make a note of that
point. That kept 'em happy, and was good for another
hour's prose - none of which advanced the cause one iota,
but since the Punjabi taxpayers were stumping up their
salaries, and I was content to sit under thepunkah sipping
brandy and soda, all was for the best in the best of all
possible civil services. We could have been there yet - my
God, they probably are.
I was busy enough in my spare time, though, chiefly
writing cypher reports for Broadfoot and committing
them to Second Thessalonians, from which they vanished
with mysterious speed. I still couldn't figure who the postman
(or postmistress) was, but it was a most efficient
service to Simla and back; within a week of my writing off
about Jassa a note turned up in my Bible saying, among
other things: "Number 2 A2", which meant that, notwithstanding
his colourful past, my orderly was trustworthy to
the second degree, which meant only a step below Broadfoot
and his Assistants, including myself. I didn't tell Jassa
this, but contrived a quick word with Gardner to give him
the glad tidings. He grunted: "Broadfoot must be sicker
than I thought," and passed on, the surly brute.
For the rest, Broadfoot's communication amounted to
little more than "Carry on. Flash". The official news from
British India, through the vakil, was that Calcutta
deplored the untimely death of Wazir Jawaheer and
trusted that his successor would have better luck - that
was the sense of it, along with a pious hope that the
Punjab would now settle down to a period of tranquillity
under Maharaja Dalip, the only ruler whom the British
power was prepared to recognise. The message was clear:
134
murder each other as often as you please, but any attempt
to depose Dalip and we shall be among you, horse, foot
and guns.
So there it was, status quo, the question of the hour
being, would Jeendan, for her own and DaUp's safety,
give way before the Khalsa's demand for war, and turn
'em loose over the Sutlej? I couldn't for the life of me see
why she should, in spite of her half-promise to them; she
seemed to be able to deal with them as her brother had
failed to do, dividing and ruling and keeping them guessing;
if she could hold the rein on them while she tightened
her grip on the government of the country, I couldn't see
how war would be in her interest.
Time would tell; a more pressing matter began to vex
me as the first week lengthened into the second. Lal Singh
had assured me that Jeendan was anxious to know me
better, politically and personally, but devil a sign of it had
there been for almost a fortnight, and I was champing at
the bit. As the horrors of those first two days receded, the
pleasures became more vivid, and I was plagued by fond
memories of that painted little trollop writhing against me
in the durbar room, and strutting wantonly before her
troops at Maian Mir. Quite fetching, those recollections
were, and bred a passion which I knew from experience
could be satisfied by the lady herself and no other. I'm a
faithful soul, you see, in my fashion, and when a new
bundle takes my fancy more than ordinary, as about a
score have done over the years, I become quite devoted
for a spell. Oh, I'd done the polite by Mangia (and
repeated the treatment when she called clandestine three
nights later) but that was journeyman work which did
nothing to quench my romantic lust to put Jeendan over
the jumps again, and the sooner the better.
I can't account for these occasional infatuations, but
then neither can the poets - uncommon randy, those versifiers.
In my own case, though, I have to own that I've
been particularly susceptible to crowned heads - empres-
135
''all
ses and queens and grand duchesses and so forth, of whom I've encountered more than a few. I dare say the trappings
and luxury had something to do with it, and the knowledge
that the treasury would pick up any bills that were
going, but that ain't the whole story, I'm sure. If I were a
German philosopher, I'd no doubt reflect on Superman's
subjection of the Ultimate Embodiment of the Female
but since I ain't I can only conclude that I'm a galloping
snob. At all events, there's a special satisfaction to rattling
royalty, I can tell you, and when they have Jeendan's training and inclinations it only adds to the fun.
Like most busy royal women, she had the habit of mixing
sport with politics, and contrived our next encounter
so that it dealt with both, on the day of her emergence
from mourning for her eagerly-awaited durbar with the I'll lilllffl Khalsa panches. I'd tiffened in my quarters, and was
preparing for an afternoon's drowse with the Soochetwallahs
when Mangia arrived unannounced; at first I supposed
she'd looked in for another quarter-staff bout, but
she explained that I was summoned to royal audience, and
must follow quietly and ask no questions. Nothing loth, I
let her conduct me, and had quite a let-down when she
ushered me into a nursery where little Dalip, attended by
a couple of nurses, was wreaking carnage with his toy "soldiers. He jumped up, beaming, at the sight of me, and
then stopped short to compose himself before advancing,
bowing solemnly, and holding out his hand.
"I have to thank you, Rashman bahadur," says he,
"for your care of me . .. that . . . that afternoon .. '
Suddenly he began to weep, head lowered, and then
stamped and dashed his tears away angrily. "I have to
thank you for your care of me . . ." he began, gulping'
and looked at Mangia.
". . . and for the great service . . .," she prompted him"...
and for the great service you rendered to me and my country!" He choked it out pretty well, head up and lip
trembling. "We are forever in your debt. Salaam, bahadur-
T shook his hand and said I was happy to be of service,
nd he nodded gravely, glanced sidelong at the women,
and murmured: "I was so frightened."
"Well, you didn't look it, maharaj'," says I - which was
the honest truth. "I was frightened, too."
"Not you?" cries he, shocked. "You are a soldier!"
"The soldier who is never frightened is only half a
soldier," says I. "And d'ye know who told me that? The
greatest soldier in the world. His name's Wellington;
you'll hear about him some day."
He shook his head in wonder at this, and deciding butter
wouldn't hurt I asked if I might be shown his toys. He
squeaked with delight, but Mangia said it must be another
time, as I had important affairs to attend to. He kicked
over his castle and pouted, but as I was salaaming my way
out he did the strangest thing, running to me and hugging
me round the neck before trotting back to his nurses with
a little wave of farewell. Mangia gave me an odd look as she closed the door behind us, and asked if I had children
of my own; I said I hadn't.
"I think you have now," says she.
I'd supposed that was the end of the audience, but now ^ she conducted me through that labyrinth of palace passages
until I was quite lost, and from her haste and the
stealthy way she paused at corners for a look-see, I
thought, aha, we're bound for some secret nook where
she means to have her wicked will of me. Watching her
neat little bottom bobbing along in front of me, I didn't mind a bit - tho' I'd rather it had been Jeendan - and ^en she ushered me into a pretty boudoir, all hung in
rose silk and containing a large divan, I lost no time in
seizing her opportunities; she clung for a moment, and hen dipped away, cautioning me to wait. She drew the curtaln from a small alcove, pressed a spring, and a panel s " "oiselessly back to reveal a narrow stairway leading own- Sounds of distant voices came from somewhere "elow. Having had experience of their architecture, I
C 137
hesitated, but she drew me towards it with a finger to her
lips.
"We must make; no sound," she breathed. "The
Maharani is holding durbar." ;
"Capital," says I, kneading her stem with both hands.
"Let's have a durbar ourselves, shall we?"
"Not now!" whispers she, trying to wriggle free. "Ah,
no! It is by her comxnand . .. you are to watch and listen
. . . no, please! . . . they must not hear us ... follow me
close . . . and make no noise . . ." Well, she was at a
splendid disadvantage, so I held her fast and played with
her for a moment or two, until she began to tremble and
bite her lip, moaning softly for me to leave off or we'd be
overheard, and when I had her nicely on the boil and fit to
dislocate herself - why, I let her go, reminding her that we
must be quiet as mice. I'll learn 'em to lure me into
boudoirs on false pr-etences. She gulped her breath back,
gave me a look that would have splintered glass, and led
the way cautiously down.
It was a dim, steep spiral, thickly carpeted against
sound, and as we descended the murmur of voices grew
ever louder; it soun-ded like a meeting before the chairman
brings 'em to order. At the stair foot was a small
landing, and in the wall ahead an aperture like a horizontal
arrow-slit, very narrow on our side but widening to the
far side of the wall so that it gave a full view of the room
beyond. y:y
We were looking down on the durbar room, at a point directly above the purdah curtain which enclosed one end
of it. To the right, in the body of the room before the
empty throne and dais, was a great, jostling throng of
men, hundreds strong - the punches of the Khalsa, vwch as I'd seen them that first day at Maian Mir, soldiers of
every rank and re-giment, from officers in brocaded
coats and aigretted turbans to barefoot jawans; even m
our eyrie we could feel the heat and impatience of t"6 close-packed throng as they pushed and craned a""
muttered to each other. Half a dozen of their spokes-
nen stood to the fore: Maka Khan, the imposing old general who'd harangued them at Maian Mir; the burly }mam Shah, who'd described Peshora's death; my rissaldar-major
of the heroic whiskers, and a couple of tall
young Sikhs whom I didn't recognise. Maka Khan was
holding forth in a loud, irritated way; I suppose you feel a
bit of an ass, addressing two hundred square feet of
embroidery.
To our left, hidden from their view by the great curtain,
and paying no heed at all to Maka Khan's oratory, the
Queen Regent and Mother of All Sikhs was making up for
her recent enforced abstinence from drink and frivolity.
For two weeks she'd been appearing in public sober, griefstricken,
and swathed in mourning apparel; now she was
enjoying a leisurely toilet, lounging goblet in hand against
a table loaded with cosmetics and fripperies, while her
maids fluttered silently about her, putting the finishing
touches to an appearance plainly calculated to enthrall her
audience when she emerged. Watching her drain her cup
and have it refilled, I wondered if she'd be sober enough;
if she wasn't, the Khalsa would miss a rare treat.
From mourning she had gone to the other extreme, and
was decked out in a dancing-girl's costume which, in any
civilised society, would have led to her arrest for breach of
the peace. Not that it was unduly scanty: her red silk
trousers, fringed with silver lace, covered her from hip to
ankle, and her gold weskit was modestly opaque, but since "oth garments had evidently been designed for a wellgrown
dwarf I could only wonder how she'd been
squeezed into them without bursting the seams. For the
rest she wore a head veil secured by a silver circlet above cr brows, and a profusion of rings and wrist-bangles; the '"vely, sullen face was touched with rouge and kohl, and one ^ her maids was painting her lips with vermilion
He another held a mirror and two more were gilding her
""ger and toe nails.
139
They were all intent as artists at a canvas, Jeendan
pouting critically at the mirror and directing the maid to
touch up the corner of her mouth; then they all stood back
to admire the result before making another titivation and
beyond the purdah her army coughed and shuffled
and waited and Maka Khan ploughed on.
"Three divisions have declared for Goolab Singh as
Wazir," cries he. "Court's, Avitabile's, and the Povinda.
They wish the durbar to summon him from Kashmir with
all speed."
Jeendan continued to study her mouth in the mirror,
opening and closing her lips; satisfied, she drank again,
and without looking aside gestured to her chief maid, who
called out: "What say the other divisions of the KhaJsa?"
Maka Khan hesitated. "They are undecided . .."
"Not about Goolab Singh!" shouts the rissaldar-major. "We'll have no rebel as Wazir, and the devil with Court's
and the Povinda!" There was a roar of agreement, and
Maka Khan tried to make himself heard. Jeendan took
another pull at her goblet before whispering to the chief maid, who called: "There is no majority, then, for Goolab
Singh?"
A great bellow of "No!" and "Raja Goolab!" with the
leaders trying to quiet them; one of the young Sikh
spokesmen shouted that his division would accept
whoever the Maharani chose, which was greeted with
cheering and a few groans, to the amusement of Jeendan
and the delight of the maids, who were now holding up
three long pier-glasses so that she might survey herself ^^ from all sides. She turned and posed, emptied her cup,
I^^BII pulled her trouser waist lower on her stomach, winked at
her chief maid, then raised a finger as Maka Khan shouted
hoarsely:
"We can do nothing until the kunwari speaks her mind!
Will she have Goolab Singh or no?"
There was a hush at that, and Jeendan whispered to the
chief maid, who stifled a fit of the giggles and called baci^
"The Maharani is only a woman, and can't make up her
mind. How is she to choose, when the great Khalsa
cannot?"
That sent them into noisy confusion, and the maids into
latches. One of them was bringing something from the
table on a little velvet cushion, and to my astonishment I
saw it was the great Koh-i-Noor stone which I'd last seen
streaked with blood in Dalip's hand. Jeendan took it,
smiling a question at her maids, and the wicked sluts all
nodded eagerly and clustered round as the Khalsa fumed
and bickered beyond the curtain and one of the young
Sikhs shouted:
"We have asked her to choose! Some say she favours
Lal Singh!" A chorus of groans. "Let her come out to us
and speak her mind!" ^ .
"It is not seemly that her majesty should come out!"
cries the chief maid. "She is not prepared!" This while
her majesty, with the diamond now in place, was flexing
her stomach to make it twinkle, and her maids hugged
themselves, giggling, and egged her on. "It is shameful to
ask her to break her purdah in durbar. Where is your
respect for her, to whom you swore obedience?"
At this there was a greater uproar than ever, some
crying that her wish was their command and she should
stay where she was, others that they'd seen her before and
no harm done. The older men scowled and shook their
heads, but the youngsters fairly bayed for her to come out,
one bold spirit even demanding that she dance for them as
she had done in the past; someone started up a song about
a Kashmiri girl who fluttered her trouser fringes and
shook the world thereby, and then from the back of the
room Aey began to chant "Jeendan! Jeendan!" The con^rvatives
swore in protest at this indecent levity, and a
ig lean Akali with eyes like coals and hair hanging to his
walst buv^ out of the front rank yelling that they were a
pack of whore-mongers and loose-livers who had been
uuced ^ her wiles, and that the Children of God the
Immortal (meaning his own set of fanatics) would stand
no more of it.
"Aye, let her come out!" bawls he. "Let her come
humbly, as befits a woman, and let her forswear her
scandalous life that is a byword in tlhe land, and appoint a
Wazir of our approving - such a one-, as will lead us to glory against the foreigners, Afghan and English alike ..."
The rest was lost in pandemonium, some howling him
down, others taking up his cry for war, Maka Khan and
the spokesmen helpless before the storm of noise. The
Akali, frothing at the mouth, leaped on to the front of the
dais, raving at them that they were fools if they gave
obedience to a woman, and a loose 'woman at that; let her
take a suitable husband and leave mien's affairs to men, as
was fitting and decent - and behind the purdah Jeendan
nodded to her chief maid, draped a silver scarf over one
arm, took a last look at her reflectioin, and walked quickly
and fairly steadily round the end of (the curtain.
Speaking professionally, I'd say she wasn't more than
half-soused, but drunk or sober, shie knew her business.
She didn't sidle or saunter or play any courtesan tricks,
but walked a few paces and stopped,, looking at the Akali.
There had been a startled gasp from the mob at her
appearance - well, dammit, she might as well have been
stark naked, painted scarlet from the hips down and
gilded across her top hamper. There was dead silence and
then the Akali stepped down from the dais like an
automaton, and without another glaince she continued to
the throne, seated herself without haste, arranged her
scarf just so on the arm-rest to cushuon her elbow, leaned
back comfortably with a finger to her- cheek, and surveyed
the gathering with a cool little smile.
"Here are many questions to be considered at once.'
Her voice was slightly slurred, but carried clearly enough. "Which will you take first, general?'" She spoke past the
Akali, who was glaring from side toi side in uncertainty,
and Maka Khan, looking as though he wished she'd
142 1
ctaved out of sight, drew himself up and bowed.
"It is said, kunwari, that you would make Lal Singh
razir. Some hold that he is no fit man "
"But others have bound themselves to accept my" choice," she reminded him. "Very well, it is Lal Singh."
This brought the Akali to life again, an arm flung out in ~
denunciation. "Your bed-man!" he bawled. "Your
paramour! Your male whore!"
There was a yell of rage at this, and some started
forward to fall on him, but she checked them with a raised
finger and answered the Akali directly, in the same calm
voice.
"You would prefer a Wazir who has not been my bedman?
Then you can't have Goolab Singh, for one. But if
you wish to nominate yourself, Akali, I'll vouch for you."
There was a moment's stunned hush, followed by
scandalised gasps - and then a huge bellow of laughter
echoing through the great room. Insults and obscene jests ^^ were showered on the Akali, who stood mouthing and^ii
shaking his fists, the rowdies at the back began to stamp
and cheer, Maka Khan and the seniors stood like men
poleaxed, and then as the tumult grew the old soldier
roused himself and thrust past the Akali to the foot of the
dais. In spite of the din, every word reached us through
that cunningly-designed spy-hole. ^
"Kunwari, this is not seemly! It is to shame ... to
shame the durbar! I beg you to withdraw ... it can wait
till another day ..."
"You didn't bid that thing withdraw, when he brayed
nis spite against me," says she, indicating the Akali, and 3s it was seen that she was speaking, the noise died on the
instant. "What are you afraid of - the truth that everyone snows? Why, Maka Khan, what an old hypocrite you ^e!" She was laughing at him. "Your soldiers are not
children. Are you?" She raised her voice, and of course
emob roared "N()!" with a vengeance, applauding her. so let him have his say." She flirted a hand at the
143
Akali. "Then I shall have mine."
Maka Khan was staring in dismay, but with the others
shouting at him to give way, he could only fall back, and
she turned her painted smile on the Akali. "You rebuke
me for my lovers - my male whores, you call them. Very well . . ." She looked beyond him, and the thick heavy
voice was raised again. "Let every man who has never
visited a brothel step forward!" ,|
I was lost in admiration. The most beardless innocent
there wasn't going to confess his unworldliness to his
mates - and certainly not with that mocking Jezebel
watching. Even Tom Brown would have hesitated before
stepping forth for the honour of the old Schoolhouse.
The Akali, who hadn't the advantage of Arnold's
Christian instruction, was simply too dumbfounded to stir.
She timed it well, though, looking him up and down in
affected wonder before he'd collected his wits, and
drawling: .
"There he stands, rooted as the Hindoo Kush! Well, at
least he is honest, this wayward Child of God the
Immortal. But not, I think, in a position to rebuke my
frailty."
That was the moment when she put them in her pocket.
If the laughter had been loud before, now it was
thunderous - even Maka Khan's lips twitched, and the rissaldar-major fairly stamped with delight and joined in
the chorus of abuse at the Akali. All he could do was rage
at her, calling her shameless and wanton, and drawing
attention to her appearance, which he likened to that of a
harlot plying for hire - he was a braver man than I'd have
been, with those fine eyes regarding him impassively out
of that cruel mask of a face. I remembered the story of the
Brahmin whose nose had been sliced off because he'd
rebuked her conduct; looking at her, I didn't doubt it.
The Akalis are a privileged sect, to be sure, and no
doubt he counted on that. "Get you gone!" he bawled- "You are not decent! It offends the eye to look at you!'
"Then turn your eyes away . . . while you still have
them," savs she' and as he fel1 back a pace' silenced' she nse 'keeping a firm grip of the throne to steady herself,
"And stood straight, posing to let them have a good view.
"In my private place, I dress as you see me, to please mvself. I would not have come out, but you called me. If
the sight of me displeases you, say so, and I shall retire."
That had them roaring for her to stay, absolutely, which
was just as well, for without the throne to cling to I believe
she'd have measured her length on the floor. She swayed
dangerously, but managed to resume her seat with
dignity, and as some of the younger men startled to hustle
the Akali away, she stopped them.
"A moment. You spoke of a suitable husband for me
... have you one in mind?"
The Akali was game. He flung off the hands pulling at
him and growled: "Since you cannot do without a man,
choose one - only let him be a sirdar,* or a wise man, or a
Child of God the Immortal!"
"An Akali?" She stared in affected astonishment, then
clapped her hands. "You are making me a proposal! Oh,
but I am confused ... it is not fitting, in open durbar, to a
poor widow woman!" She turned her head bashfully aside,
and of course the mob crowed with delight. "Ah, but no,
Akali... I cannot deliver my innocence to one who admits
openly that he frequents brothels and chases the barber's
little girls. Why, I should never know where you were! But
I thank you for your gallantry." She gave him a little ironic bow, and her smile would have chilled Medusa. "So, you
may keep your sheep's eyes . . . this time."
He was glad to escape into the jeering crowd, and having
entertained them by playing the flirt, the fool, and the tyrant in short order, she waited till they were attentive agaln' ^d gave them her Speech from the Throne, taking ^re not to stutter.
Chief.
145
"Some of you call for Goolab Singh as Wazir. Well, I'n
not have him, and I'll tell you why. Oh, I could laugh him
out of your esteem by saying that if he is as good a statesman
as he was a lover, you'd be better with Balloo the
Clown." The young ones cheered and guffawed, while the
older men scowled and looked aside. "But it would not be
true. Goolab is a good soldier, strong, brave, and cunning
- too cunning, for he corresponds with the British. I can
show you letters if you wish, but it is well known. Is that
the man you want - a traitor who'll sell you to the Maiki tat in return for the lordship of Kashmir? Is that the man
to lead you over the Sutlej?"
That touched the chord they all wanted to hear, and
they roared " Khalsa-ji and "Wa Guru-ji ko Futteh, clamouring to know when they'd be ordered to march.
"All in good time," she assured them. "Let me finish
with Goolab. I have told you why he is not the man for
you. Now I'll tell you why he is not the man for me. He is
ambitious. Make him Wazir, make him commander of the
Khalsa, and he'll not rest until he has thrust me aside and
mounted to my son's throne. Well, let me tell you, I enjoy
my power too much ever to let that happen." She was
sitting back at ease, confident, smiling a little as she
surveyed them. "It will never happen with Lal Singh,
because I hold^him here ..." She lifted one small hand,
palm upwards, and closed it into a fist. "He is not present
today, by my order, but you may tell him what I say, if you
wish . .. and if you think it wise. You see, I am honest
with you. I choose Lal Singh because I will have my way,
and at my bidding he will lead you ..." She paused for
effect, sitting erect now, head high, ".. . wherever it
pleases me to send you!"
That meant only one thing to them, and there was
bedlam again, with the whole assembly roaring "'Khalsa- /'('!" and "Jeendan!" as they crowded forward to the edge
of the dais, bearing the spokesmen in front of them, shak^ ing the roof with their cheers and applause - and
146
thought, bigod, I'm seeing something new. A woman as
brazen as she looks, with the courage to proclaim
absolutely what she is, and what she thinks, bragging her
lust of pleasure and power and ambition, and let 'em make
of it what they will. No excuses or politician's fair words,
but simple, arrogant admission: I'm a selfish, immoral bitch
out to serve my own ends, and I don't care who knows it and
because I say it plain, you'll worship me for it.
And they did. Mind you, if she hadn't promised them
war, it might have been another story, but she had, and
she'd done it in style. She knew men, you see, and was
well aware that for every one who shrank from her in
disgust and anger and even hatred at the shame she put on
them, there were ten to acclaim and admire and tell each
other what a hell of a girl she was, and lust after her - that
was her secret. Strong, clever women use their sex on men
in a hundred ways; Jeendan used hers to appeal to the
dark side of their natures, and bring out the worst in them.
Which, of course, is what you must do with an army, once
you've gauged its temper. She knew the Khalsa's temper
to an inch, and how to shock it, flirt with it, frighten it,
make love to it, and dominate it, all to one end: by the
time she'd done with 'em, you see ... they trusted her.
I saw it happen, and if you want confirmation, you'll "nd it in Broadfoot's reports, and Nicolson's, and all the
others which tell of Lahore in '45. You won't find them
approving her, mind you - except Gardner, for whom she wuld do no wrong - but you'll get a true picture of an
extraordinary woman.26
Order was restored at last, and their distrust of Lal
ingh was forgotten in the assurance that she would be
"ing them; there was only one question that mattered, ^^ka Khan voiced it.
.when' kunwarH When shall we march on India?"
when you are ready," says she. "After the Dasahra."*
accn^1"'^ festival in October after which the Sikhs were Atoned to set out on expeditions.
147
There ^if groans of dismay, and shouts that they were
ready no^ ^vhich she silenced with questions of her own
"You ^e, ready? How many rounds a man has the
Povinda djyision? What remounts are there for the gor.
racharral ^ow much forage for the artillery teams? You
don't kno^y I'll tell you: ten rounds, no remounts, forage
for five d^." Alick Gardner's been priming you, thinks
I. It silence them, though, and she went on:
"You v^o^'t go far beyond the Sutlej on that, much less
beat the Sizar's army. We must have time, and moneyand you ^ve eaten the Treasury bare, my hungry
Khalsa." sye smiled to soften the rebuke. "So for a
season yon yiiust disperse the divisions about the country,
and live o^ ^vhat you can get - nay, it will be good practice
against the ^ay when you come to Delhi and the fat lands
to the sout^f ^ ^
That cheered them up - she was telling them to loot
their own ^untryside, you'll notice, which they'd been
doing for sj^ years. Meanwhile, she and their new Wazir
would see io it that arms and stores were ready in
abundance for the great day. Only a few of the older
hands exposed doubts.
"But if ^/e disperse, kunwari, we leave the country
open to attack," says the burly Imam Shah. "The British
can make 3 chapao* and be in Lahore while we are
scattered!''
"The Br^ish will not move," says she confidently.
"Rather, ^en they see the great Khalsa disperse, they
will thank (^od and stand down, as they always do. Is it
not so, M^^ Khan?" Krf . si
The old (,oy looked doubtful. "Indeed, kunwari-^
they are n^ fools. They have their spies among us. There
is one at y^r court now .. ." He hesitated, not meeting
her eye. " . this Iflassman of the Sirkar's Army, who
hides behin^ a fool's errand when all the world knows he
I
*Sudden att^. ;. 
the right hand of the Black-coated Infidel.* What if he
should learn what passes here today? What if there is a
traitor among us to inform him?"
"Among the Khalsa?" She was scornful. "You do your
comrades little honour, general. As to this Englishman
he learns what I wish him to learn, no more and no
less. It will not disturb his masters."
She had a way with a drawled line, and the lewd brutes ^^nt into ribald guffaws - it's damnable, the way gossip
gets about. But it was eerie to hear her talk as though I
were miles away, when she knew I was listening to every
word. Well, no doubt I'd discover eventually what she was
about -1 glanced at Mangia, who smiled mysteriously and
motioned me to silence, so I must sit and speculate as that
remarkable durbar drew to a close with renewed cheers of
loyal acclaim and enthusiastic promises of what they'd do
to John Company when the time came. Thereafter they all
trooped out in high good humour, with a last rouse for the
small red and gold figure left in solitary state on her
throne, toying with her silver scarf.
Mangia led me aloft again to the rose-pink boudoir,
leaving the sliding panel ajar, and busied herself pouring
wine into a beaker that must have held near a quart anticipating
her mistress's needs, you see. Sure enough, a
stumbling step and muttered curse on the stair heralded
the appearance of the Mother of All Sikhs, looking
obscenely beautiful and gasping for refreshment; she
drained the cup without even sitting down, gave a sigh
that shuddered her delightfully from head to foot, and
subsided gratefully on the divan.
,. ^ ll again .. . another moment and I should have "ed; Oh, how they stank!" She drank greedily. "Was it ^11 done, Mangia?"
Well indeed, kunwari. They are yours, every man." J "ye, for the moment. My tongue didn't trip? You're
e Afghan nickname for George Broadfoot.
149
sure? My feet di|id, though .. ." She giggled and sipped "i
know, I drink ttoo much - but could I have faced them sober? D'you thtunk they noticed?"
"They noticec;d what you meant them to notice " save Mangia dryly. is
"Baggage! it't's true enough, though . . . Men!" She
gave her huskyy laugh, raised a shimmering leg and
admired its shappeliness complacently. "Even that beast of
an Akah couldim't stare hard enough . . . heaven help
some wench toonight when he vents his piety on her
Wasn't he a godsend, though? I should be grateful to him
I wonder if hes . . ." She chuckled, drank again, and
seemed to see time for the first time. "Did our tall visitor
hear it all?"
^ "Every word,, kunwari;' |fc;-;
"And he was ) properly attentive? Good." She eyed me
over the rim of f her cup, set it aside, and stretched luxuriously
like a c^at, watching me to gauge the effect of all
that goodness titrying to burst out of the tight silk; no
modest violet shqe. My expression must have pleased her,
for she laughed t again. "Good. Then we'll have much to
talk about, whenn I've washed away the memory of those
sweaty warriors s of mine. You look warm, too, my
Englishman .. . ; show him where to bathe, Mangia - and
keep your hands s off him, d'you hear?"
"Why, kunwarzril" |
'"Why kunwawf indeed! Here, unbutton my waist."
She laughed andd hiccoughed, glancing over her shoulder
as Mangia unfastened herat the back. "She's a lecherous
slut, our Manglaa. Aren't you, my dear? Lonely, too, now
that Jawaheer's g gone - not that she ever cared two pice for
him." She gave ; me her Delilah smile. "Did you enjoy
her, Englishman-:-!? She enjoyed you. Well, let me tell you, she is thirty-one, , the old trollop - five years my senior and
twice as old in sinin, so beware of her."
She reached 1 for her cup again, knocked it over splashed wine acacross her midriff, cursed fluently, and
lied the diamond from her navel. "Here, Mangia, take
P.- ye doesn't like it, and he'll never learn the trick."
-, ' yose, none too steadily, and waved Mangia
mnatiently away. "Go on, woman - show him where to bathe and set out the oil, and then take yourself off! And
don't forget to tell Rai and the Python to be within call, in
case I need them."
I wondered, as I had a hasty wash-down in a tiny chamber
off the boudoir, if I'd ever met such a blatant strumpet
in my life - well, Ranavalona, of course, but you don't
expect coy flirtation from a female ape. Montez hadn't
been one to stand on ceremony either, crying "On
guard!" and brandishing her hairbrush, and Mrs Leo
Lade could rip the britches off you with a sidelong glance,
but neither had paraded their dark desires as openly as
this tipsy little houri. Still, one must conform to the
etiquette of the country, so I dried myself with feverish
speed and strode forth as nature intended, eager to
ambush her as she emerged from her bathroom - and she
was there ahead of me.
She was half-reclining on a broad silken quilt on the
floor, clad in her head-veil and bangles - and I'd been
looking forward to easing her out of those pants, too. She
was fortifying herself with her wine cup, as usual, and it
struck me that unless I went to work without delay she'd
be too foxed to perform. But she could still speak and see,
at least, for she surveyed me with glassy-eyed approval,
licked her lips, and says:
"You're impatient, I see. . . . No, wait, let me look at you . . . Mm-m . . . Now, come here and lie down beside "e ... and wait. I said we should talk, remember. There are ^ngs you must know, so that you can speak my mind
to Broadfoot sahib and the Maiki lat;' Another sip of
Puggle and a drunken chuckle. "As you English say, business
before pleasure."
 was boiling to contradict her by demonstration, but as
we "served, queens are different - and this one had told
151
Mangia to have "Rai and the Python" standing by; they
didn't sound like lady's maids, exactly. Also, if she had
something for Hardinge, I must hear it. So I stretched out
nearly bursting at the prospect of the abundances thrust
ing at me within easy reach, and the wicked slut bobbed
them with one hand while she poured tipple into herself
with the other. Then she put down the cup, scooped her
hand into a deep porcelain bowl of oil at her side, and
kneeling forward above me, let it trickle on to my manly
breast; then she began to rub it in ever so gently with her
finger-tips, all over my torso, murmuring to me to lie still
while I gritted my teeth and clawed at the quilt, and tried
to remember what an ablative absolute was - I had to
humour her, you see, but with that painted harlot's face
breathing warm booze at me, and those superb poonts
quivering overhead with every teasing movement, and her
fingers caressing . . . well, it was distracting, you know. To
make things worse, she talked in that husky whisper, and I
must try to pay attention.
Jeendan: This is what killed Runjeet Singh, did you
know? It took a full bowl of oil ... and then he died ...
smiling . . .
Flashy (a trifle hoarse): You don't say! Any last words,
were there?
J: It was my duty to apply the oil while we discussed the
business of the state. It relieved the tedium of affairs, he
used to say, and reminded him that life is not all policy.
F (musing): No wonder the country went to rack and
ruin . .. Ah, steady on! Oh, lor'! State business, eh? Well,
well . . .
J: You find it ... stimulating? It is a Persian custom,
you know. Brides and grooms employ it on their wedding
night, to dispel their shyness and enhance their enjoyment
of each other.
F (through clenched teeth): It's a fact, you can always
learn something new. Oh, Holy Moses! I say, don't you
care for a spot of oil yourself . . . after your bath, I mean
152

mustn't catch cold! I'd be glad to - r. presently .. . not yet. What splendid muscles you
have, my Englishman.
F- Exercise and clean living - oh. God! See here, kunwari, I think that'll do me nicely, don't you know -
j-1 can judge better than you. Now, be still, and listen.
You heard all that passed at my durbar? So ... you can
assure Broadfoot sahib that all is well, that my brother's
death is forgotten, and that I hold the Khalsa in the hollow
of my hand .. . like this ... no, no, be still - I was only
teasing! Tell him also that I entertain the friendliest feelings
towards the Sirkar, and there is nothing to fear. You
understand? ^
F (whimpering): Absolutely. Speaking of friendly feelings
J:
A little more oil, I think . . . But you must warn him
to withdraw no regiments from the Sutlej, is that clear?
They must remain at full strength . . . like you, my mighty
English elephant . . . There now, I have teased you long
enough. You must be rewarded for your patience.
(Leaves off and kneels back, reaching for drink.)
F: Not before time -
J (fending him off): No, no - it is your turn to take the
oil! Not too much, and begin at my finger-tips, so ... very
gently . . . smooth it into my hands . . . good . . . now the
wrists ... You will inform Broadfoot sahib that the
Khalsa will be dispersed until after the Dasahra, when I
shall instruct the astrologers to choose a day for opening
the war... now my elbows. But no day will be propitious
for many weeks. I shall see to that . . . now slowly up to
the shoulders .. . softly, a little more oil ... Yes, I shall know how to postpone and delay ... so the Sirkar will "ave ample time to prepare for whatever may come . . .
The shoulders, I said! Oh, well, you have been patient, so ^hy not? More oil, on both hands . .. more ... ah,
delicious! But gently, there is more news for Broadfoot
sahib153
F (oiling furiously): Bugger Broadfoot!
J: Patience, beloved, you go too fast. Pleasure hasted is
pleasure wasted, remember . . . Tell him Lal Singh and
Tej Singh will command the Khalsa - are you listening')
Lal and Tej - don't forget their names . . . There, now, all
is told - so lie down again, elephant, and await your
mahout's pleasure . . . so-o . . . oh, gods! Ah-h-h .. .1
Wait, lie still - and observe this time-glass, which tells the
quarter-hour ... its sands must run out before yours, do
you hear? So, now, slowly . . . you remember the names?
Lal and Tej ... Lal and Tej ... Lal and . . .
Young chaps, who fancy themselves masterful, won't
credit it, but these driving madames who insist on calling
the tune can give you twice the sport of any submissive
slave, if you handle them right. If they want to play the
princess lording it over the poor peasant, let 'em; it puts
them on their mettle, and saves you no end of hard work.
I've known any number of the imperious bitches, and the
secret is to let them set the pace, hold back until they've
shot their bolt, and then give 'em more than they
bargained for.
Knowing Jeendan's distempered appetite, I'd thought
to be hard put to stay the course, but now that I was sober,
which I hadn't been at our first encounter, it was as easy as
falling off a log - which is what she did, if you follow me,
after a mere five minutes, wailing with satisfaction. Well, I
wasn't having that, so I picked her up and bulled her
round the room until she hollered uncle. Then I let her
have the minute between rounds, while I oiled her lovingly,
and set about her again - turning the time-glass in
the middle of it, and drawing her attention to the fact,
although what with drink and ecstasy I doubt if she could
even see it. She was whimpering to be let alone, so I
finished the business leisurely as could be, and damned if
she didn't faint - either that or it was the booze.
After a while she came to, calling weakly for a drink, so
I fed her a few sips while I debated whether to give her a
154 I
thrashing or sing her a lullaby - you must keep 'em guess
p you know. The first seemed inadvisable, so far from home so I carried her to and fro humming "Rockabye,
habv"', aa^ so "^P me sne ^solutely went to sleep, nestling
against me. I laid her on the divan, thinking this'll
rive us time to restore our energies, and went into the
wash-room to rid myself of the oil - I've known randy
women have some odd tastes: birches, spurs, hairbrushes,
peacock feathers, baths, handcuffs, God knows
what, but Jeendan's the only grease-monkey I can recall.
I was scrubbing away, whistling "Drink, puppy,
drink", when I heard a hand-bell tinkle in the boudoir.
You'll have to wait a while, my dear, thinks I, but then I
heard voices and realised she had summoned Mangia, and
was giving instructions in a dreamy, exhausted whisper.
"You may dismiss Rai and the Python," murmurs she.
"I shall have no need of them today . . . perhaps not
tomorrow..." ??
I should think not, indeed. So I sang "Rule,
Britannia". ;;
^ y&.-- w ^;a ','
^:
155
S- ^ ]
If you consult the papers of Sir Henry Hardinge and Major Broadfoot for October, 1845 (not
that I recommend them as light reading), you'U find three
significant entries early in the month: Mai Jeendan's court
moved to Amritsar, Hardinge left Calcutta for the Sutlej
frontier, and Broadfoot had a medical examination and
went on a tour of his agencies. In short, the three
principals in the Punjab crisis took a breather - which
meant no war that autumn. Good news for everyone
except the dispersed Khalsa, moping in their outlying
stations and spoiling for a fight.
My own immediate relief was physical. Jeendan's
departure came in the nick of time for me, for one more
amorous joust with her would have doubled me up forever.
I've seldom known the like: you'd have thought,
after the wild passage I've just described, that she'd have
rested content for a spell, but no such thing. A couple of
hours' sleep, a pint of spirits, and drum up the town bull
again, was her style, and I doubt if I saw daylight for three
days, as near as I could judge, for you tend to lose count
of time, you know. We may well have set a record, but 1
didn't keep tally (some Yankee would be sure to claim
best, anyway). All I'm sure of is that my weight went
down below twelve and a half stone, and that ain't healthy
for a chap my size. I was the one who needed medical
inspection, I can tell you, never mind Broadfoot.
And on the fourth morning, when I was a mere husk of
a man, wondering if there was a monastery handy, what
d'you think she did? Absolutely had a chap in to paint my
156 1
rtrait. At first, when he dragged his easel and colours
P .ug boudoir, and started waving his brush, I thought it in  another of her depraved fancies, and she was going to
!*ave him sketch us performing at the gallop; the devil with
. ^inks I, if I'm to be hung at the next Punjab Royal
Academy it'll be with my britches on and my hair brushed. But it proved to be a pukka sitting, Flashy fully
clad in romatic native garb like Lord Byron, looking noble
with a hookah to hand and a bowl of fruit in the foreGround,
while Jeendan lounged at the artist's elbow,
nrompting, and Mangia made helpful remarks. Between
the two of them he was in a fine sweat, but did a capital
likeness of me in no time - it's in a Calcutta gallery now, I
believe, entitled Company Officer in Seekh Costume, or
something of the sort. Ruined Stag at Bay, more like.
"So that I shall remember my English bahadur," says
Jeendan, smiling slantendicular, when I asked her why she
wanted it. I took it as a compliment - and wondered if it
was a dismissal, too, for it was in the same breath that she
announced she was taking little Dalip to Amritsar, which
is the Sikhs' holy city, for the Dasahra, and wouldn't
return for some weeks. I feigned dismay, concealing the
fact that she'd reduced me to a state where I didn't care if
I never saw a woman again.
My first act, when I'd staggered back to my quarters,
was to scribble a report of her durbar and subsequent
conversation with me, and commit it to Second Thessalonians.
That report was what convinced Hardinge and
Broadfoot that they had time in hand: no war before winter.
I was right enough in that; fortunately I didn't give
them my further opinion, which was that there probably
wouldn't be a war even then.
You see, I was convinced that Jeendan didn't want one.
II she had, and believed the Khalsa could beat us and "lake her Queen of all Hindoostan, she'd have turned 'em
loose over the Sutlej by now. By hocussing them into "clay she'd spoiled their best chance, which would have
157
been to invade while the hot weather lasted, and our white
troops were at their feeblest; by the cold months, our sick
would be on their feet again, dry weather and low rivers
would assist our transport and defensive movement, and
the freezing nights, while unpleasant for us, would plague
the Khalsa abominably. She was also double-dealing 'em
by warning us to stay on guard, and promising ample
notice if they did break loose in spite of her.
Now there, you'll say, is a clever lass who knows how to
keep in with both sides - and will cross either of 'em if it
suits her. But already she'd ensured that, if war did come
the odds were in our favour - and there was no profit to
her in getting beat. x.w
All that aside, I didn't believe war was in her nature.
Oh, I knew she was a shrewd politician, when she roused
herself, and no doubt as cruel and ruthless as any other
Indian ruler - but I just had to think of that plump,
pleasure-sodden face drowsing on the pillow, too languid
for anything but drink and debauchery, and the notion of
her scheming, let alone directing, a war was quite out of
court. Lord love us, she was seldom sober enough to plot
anything beyond the next erotic experiment. No, if you'd
seen her as I did, slothful with booze and romping, you'd
have allowed that Broadfoot was right, and that here was
a born harlot killing herself with kindness, a fine spirit too
far gone to undertake any great matter.
So I thought - well, I misjudged her, especially in her
capacity for hatred. I misjudged the Khalsa, too. Mind
you, I don't blame myself too much; there seems to have
been a conspiracy to keep Flashy in the dark just then -
Jeendan, Mangia, Gardner, Jassa, and even the Sikh
generals had me in mind as they pursued their sinister
ends, but I'd no way of knowing that.
Indeed, I was feeling pretty easy on the October moming
when the court departed for Amritsar, and I turned
out to doff my tile as the procession wound out of the
Kashmir Gate. Little Dalip was to the fore on his state
leohant, acknowledging the cheers of the mob as cool as
nu like, but twinkling and waving gaily at sight of me. Lal
Sineb, brave as a peacock and riding with a proprietary air beside Jeendan's paiki, didn't twinkle exactly; when she
nodded and smiled in response to my salute he gave me a
stuffed smirk as much as to say, back to the pavilion,
infidel, it's my innings now. You're welcome, thinks I;
plenty of Chinese ginger and rhinoceros powder and you
may survive. Mangia, in the litter following, was the only
one who seemed to be sorry to be leaving me behind,
waving and glancing back until the crowd swallowed her
up.
The great train of beasts and servants and guards and
musicians was still going by as Jassa and I turned away and
rode round to the Rushnai Gate. Have a jolly Dasahra at
Amritsar, all of you, thinks I, and by the time you get
back Gough will have the frontier reinforced, and
Hardinge will be on hand to talk sense to you face to face;
among you all you can keep the Khalsa in order, everything
can be peacefully settled, and I can go home. I said
as much to Jassa, and he gave one of his YankeePathan
grunts.
"You reckon? Well, if I was you, lieutenant, I'd not say
that till I was riding the gridiron again."* ^H
"Why not - have you heard something?"
"Just the barra choop," says he, grinning all over his
ugly mug.
"What the devil's that?" ^ "You don't know - an old Khyber hand like you? Barra
choop - the silent time before the tempest." He cocked
his head. "Yes, sir, I can hear it, aU right."
'Oh, to blazes with your croaking! Heavens, man, the
"-balsa's scattered all over the place, and by the time
"ley're mustered again Gough will have fifty thousand
"yonets at the river "

Aboard an East Indiaman. The reference is to the Company's flag.
159
"If he does, it'll be a red rag to a Punjabi bull," says
this confounded pessimist. "Then they'll be sure he means
to invade. Besides, your lady friend's promised the Khalsa
a war come November - they're going to be mighty sore if
they don't get it."
"They'll be a dam' sight sorer if they do!"
"You know that - but maybe they don't." He turned in
the saddle to look back at the long procession filing along
the dusty Amritsar road, shading his eyes, and when he
spoke again it was in Pushtu. "See, husoor, we have in the
Punjab the two great ingredients of mischief: an army
loose about the land, and a woman's tongue unbridled in
the house." He spat. "Together, who knows what they
may do?"
I told him pretty sharp to keep his proverbs to himself;
if there's one thing I bar it's croakers disturbing my peace
of mind, especially when they're leery coves who know
their business. Mind you, I began to wonder if he did, for
now, after the terrors and transports of my first weeks in
Lahore, there came a long spell in which nothing happened
at all. We prosed daily about the Soochet legacy,
and damned dull it was. The Inheritance Act of 1833 ain't
a patch on the Police Gazette, and after weeks of listening
to the drivel of a garlic-breathing dotard in steel spectacles
on the precise meaning of "universum jus" and "seisin" I
was bored to the point where I almost wrote to Elspeth. Barra choop, indeed.
But if there was no sign of the tempest foretold by
Jassa, there was no lack of rumour. As the Dasahra passed,
and October lengthened into November, the bazaars
were full of talk of British concentration on the river, and
Dinanath, of all people, claimed publicly that the Company
was preparing to annex Sikh estates on the south
bank of the Sutlej; it was also reported that he had said
that "the Maharani was willing for war to defend the
national honour". Well, we'd heard that before; the latest
definite word was that she'd moved from Amritsar to
160 -
Shalamar, and was rioting the nights away with Lal. I was
rorised that he was still staying the course; doubtless
Rai and the Python were spelling him.
Then late in November things began to happen which
caused me, reluctantly, to sit up straight. The Khalsa
began to reassemble on Maian Mir, Lal was confirmed as
Wazir and Tej as commander-in-chief, both made proclamations
full of fire and fury, and the leading generals took
their oaths on the Granth, pledging undying loyalty to
young Dalip with their hands on the canopy of Runjeet's
tomb. You may be sure I saw none of this; diplomatic
immunity or not, I was keeping my head well below the
parapet, but Jassa gave me eye-witness accounts, taking
cheerful satisfaction at every new alarm, curse him.
"They're just waiting for the astrologers to name the
day," says he. "Even the order of march is cut and dried -
Tej Singh to Ferozepore with 42,000 foot, while Lal crosses
farther north with 20,000 gorracharra. Yes, sir, they're
primed and ready to fire."
Not wanting to believe him, I pointed out that strategically
the position was no worse than it had been two
months earlier.
"Except that there isn't a rupee left in the Pearl
Mosque, and nothing to pay 'em with. I tell you, they
either march or explode. I just hope Gough's ready. What
does Broadfoot say?"
That was the most disquieting thing of all - for two
weeks I hadn't had a line from Simla. I'd been cyphering sway until Second Thessalonians was dog-eared, without ^Ply. I didn't tell Jassa that, but reminded him that the
final word lay with Jeendan; she'd charmed the Khalsa into delay before, and she could do it again.
I'w got ten chips* says she can't," says he. "Once the sstrologers say the word, it'd be more than her pretty little "de was worth to hold back. If those stars say 'Go', she's
'Rupees.
161
bound to give 'em their heads - and God hein
Ferozepore!"
He lost his bet. "I shall instruct the astrologers," she
had told me, and she must have done, for when the wise
men took a dekko at the planets, they couldn't make head
or tail of them. Finally, they admitted that the propitious
day was obvious enough, but unfortunately it had been
last week and they hadn't noticed, dammit. The panches
weren't having that, and insisted that another date be
found, and sharp about it; the astrologers conferred, and
admitted that there was a pretty decent-looking day about
a fortnight hence, so far as they could tell at this distance.
That didn't suit either, and the soldiery were ready to
string them up, at which the astrologers took fright and
said tomorrow was the day, not a doubt of it; couldn't
think how they'd missed it before. Their credit was pretty
thin by this time, and although the gorracharra were
ordered out of Lahore, Lal took them only a little way
beyond Shalamar before hurrying back to the city and the
arms of Jeendan, who was once more in residence at the
Fort. Tej sent off the infantry by divisions, but stayed at
home himself, and the march was petering out, Jassa
reported.
I heaved a sigh of relief; plainly Jeendan was being as
good as her word. Now that she was back, under the same
roof, I considered and instantly dismissed the notion of
trying to have a word with her; nothing could have been
worse just then than talk spreading in the bazaar and the
camp that she'd been colloguing with a British officer. So I
sat down to compose a cypher to Broadfoot, describing
the confusion caused by the astrologers, and how the
Khalsa were marching round in rings without their two
leading generals. "In all this (I concluded) I think we may
discern a certain lady's fine Punjabi hand." Elegant letterwriters,
we politicals were in those days - sometimes too
elegant for our own good.
I sent it off by way of the Scriptures, and suggested to
162 i
^at he might canvass Gardner, who had returned
'th Jeendan, to find out the state of play, but my faithful ^deriv demurred, pointing out that he was the last man in /hom Gardner would confide at any time, "and if the
ealous son-of-a-bitch gets the idea that I'm nosing about
rieht now, he's liable to do me harm. Oh, sure, he's
Broadfoot's friend - but it's Dalip's salt he eats - and Mai
jeendan's. Don't forget that. If it comes to war, he can't
be on our side."
I wasn't sure about that, but there was nothing to do but
wait - for news of the Khalsa's intentions, and word from
Broadfoot. Three days went by, and then a week, in which
Lahore buzzed with rumours: the Khalsa were marching,
the British were invading, Goolab Singh had declared first
for one side then for the other, the Raja of Nabia had
announced that he was the eleventh incarnation of Vishnu
and was raising a holy war to sweep the foreigners out of
India - all the usual twaddle, contradicted as soon as it
was uttered, and I could do nothing but endure the
Soochet legacy by day, and pace my balcony impatiently
in the evening, watching the red dusk die into purple, starfilled
night over the fountain court, and listen to the distant
murmur of the great city, waiting, like me, for peace
or war.
It was nervous work, and lonely, and then on the
seventh night, when I had just climbed into bed, who
should slip in, all unannounced, but Mangla. News at last,
thinks I, and was demanding it as I turned up the lamp,
but all the reply she made was to pout reproachfully, cast ^ide her robe, and hop into bed beside me.
"After six weeks I have not come to talk politics," says she' "ibbing her bumpers across my face. "Ah, taste, oahadw - and then eat to your heart's content! Have you "nssed me?"
"R ^h? oh' (iamnably!" savs I> taking a polite munch.
ut hold on ... what's the news? Have you a message
"from your mistress? What's she doing?"
163
"This - and this - and this," says she, teasing busilv
"With Lal Singh. Rousing his manhood - but whether fo
an assault on herself or on the frontier, who knows? Are
you jealous of him, then? Am I so poor a substitute?"
"No, dammit! Hold still, can't you? Look, woman
what's happening, for heaven's sake? One moment I hear
the Khalsa's marching, the next that it's been recalled - is
it peace or war? She swore she'd give warning - here
don't take 'em away! But I must know, don't you see, so
that I can send word "
"Does it matter?" murmurs the randy little vixen. "At
this moment. . . does it truly matter?"
She was right, of course; there's a time for everything.
So for the next hour or so she relieved the tedium of
affairs and reminded me that life isn't all policy, as old
Runjeet said before expiring blissfully. I was ready for it,
too, for since my protracted bout with Jeendan I hadn't
seen a skirt except my little maids, and they weren't worth
turning to for.
Afterwards, though, when we lay beneath the punkah, drowsing and drinking, there wasn't a scrap of news to be
got out of her. To all my questions she shrugged her pretty
shoulders and said she didn't know - the Khalsa were still
on the leash, but what was in Jeendan's mind no one could
tell. I didn't believe it; she must have some word for me.
"Then she has not told me. Do you know," says
Mangia, gnawing at my ear, "I think we talk too much of
Jeendan - and you have ceased to care for her, I know.
All men do. She is too greedy of her pleasure. So she has
no lovers - only bed-men. Even Lal Singh takes her only
out of fear and ambition. Now I," says the saucy piece, teasing my lips with hers, "have true lovers, because I
delight to give pleasure as well as to take it - especially
with my English bahadur. Is it not so?"
D'you know, she was right again. I'd had enough of
Punjabi royalty to last a lifetime, and she'd put her dainty
finger on the reason: with Jeendan, it had been like niak'
 love to a steam road roller. But I still had to know
'"hat was in her devious Indian mind, and when Mangia
w ntinued to protest ignorance I got in a bate and swore
that if she didn't talk sense I'd thrash it out of her - at
which she clapped her hands and offered to get my belt.
So the night wore out, and a jolly time we had of it, with
only one interruption, when Mangia complained of the
cold draft from the fan. I bawled to the punkah-wallah to
eo easy, but with the door closed he didn't hear, so I
turned out, cursing. It wasn't the usual ancient, but
another idiot - they're all alike, fast asleep when you want
a cool waft, and freezing you with a nor'easter in the small
hours. I leathered the brute, and scampered back for
some more Kashmiri culture; it was taxing work, and
when I awoke it was full morning, Mangia had gone . . .
and there was a cypher from Broadfoot waiting in Second
Thessalonians.
So Jassa had been right - she was the secret courier
after all. Well, the little puss . . . mixing business with
pleasure, if you like. I'd wondered if it was she, you
remember, on that first day, when she and others had had
the opportunity to be at my bedside table. She was the
perfect go-between, when you thought about it, able to
come and go about the palace as she pleased ... the slavegirl
who was the richest woman in Lahore - easy for her to
bribe and command other couriers, one of whom must
have deputised while she was away in Amritsar. How the
deuce had Broadfoot recruited her? My respect for my
chief had always been high, but it doubled now, I can tell
you.
Which was just as well, for if anything could have
shaken my faith it was the contents of that cypher. When
 ^coded it I sat staring at the paper for several
"iinutes, and then construed it again, to be sure I had it
"ghtNo mistake, it was pukka, and the sweat prickled on
"y skin as I read it for the tenth time:
165
Most urgent to Number One alone. On the first
night after receipt, you will go in native dress to
the French Soldiers' cabaret between the Shah
Boorj and the Buttee Gate. Use the signals and
wait for word from Bibi Kalil. Say nothing to your
orderly.
Not even an "I remain" or "Believe me &c". That was
all.
^ ' ^ . , . -. ^
The trouble with the political service, you know, is that
they can't tell truth from falsehood. Even members of
Parliament know when they're lying, which is most of the
time, but folk like Broadfoot simply ain't aware of their
own prevarications. It's all for the good of the service, you
see, so it must be true - and that makes it uncommon hard
for straightforward rascals like me to know when we're
being done browner than an ape's behind. Mind you, I'd
.feared the worst when he'd assured me: "It'll never come ^'to disguise, or anything desperate." Oh, no, George,
never that! Honestly, you'd be safer dealing with lawyers.
And now here it was, my worst fears realised. Flashy
was being sent into the deep field - clean-shaven, too, and
never a bolt-hole or friend-in-need to bless himself with.
Come, you may say, what's the row - it's only a
rendezvous in disguise, surely? Aye . . . and then? Who
the blazes was this Bibi Kalil - the name might mean
anything from a princess to a bawd - and what horror
would she steer me to at Broadfoot's bidding? Well, I'd
find out soon enough. ' -N * The
disguise was the least of it. I had a poshteen in my
valise, and had gathered a few odds and ends since coming to Lahore - Persian boots, pyjamys and sash for lounging on the hotter days, and the like. My own shirt would do,
once I'd trampled it underfoot, and I improvised a pug'
ffQva a couple of towels. Ordinarily I'd have bor- ^fl ed Jassa's gear, but he was to be kept in the dark rh t was something about the cypher that struck me as
iddling ^'- ^e ^ast sentence was unnecessary, since the
ord "alone" at the beginning meant that the whole thing
was secret to me. Presumably George was just "makin'
siccar", 3s he would ^ Leaving the Fort was less simple. I'd strolled out once
or twice of an evening, but never beyond the market at the
Hazooree Gate on the inner wall, which was the betterclass
bazaar serving the quality homes which lay south of
the Fort, before you came to the town proper. I daren't
assume my disguise inside the palace, so I stuffed it into a
handbag, all but the boots, which I put on under my
unutterables.* Then it was a case of making sure that
Jassa wasn't on hand, and slipping out to the gardens after
dark. There were few folk about, and in no time I was
behind a bush, staggering about with my foot tangled in
my pants, damning Broadfoot and the mosquitoes. I
wrapped the puggaree well forward over my head, dirtied
my face, put the bag with my civilised duds into a cleft in
the garden wall, prayed that I might return to claim them,
and sallied forth.
Now, I've "gone native" more times than I can count,
and it's all a matter of confidence. Your amateur gives
himself away because he's sure everyone can see through
his disguise, and behaves according. They can't, of
course; for one thing, they ain't interested, and if you
amble along doing no harm, you'll pass. I'll never forget
sneaking out of Lucknow with T. H. Kavanaugh during
the siege;+ he was a great Irish murphy without sense or a ^wrd of Hindi, figged out like the worst kind of pantomime
pasha with the lamp-black fairly running off his
iat red cheeks, and cursing in Tipperary the whole way -
*GvUian trousers. ^ see Flashman in the Great Game.
167
and not a mutineer gave him a second look, hardly. nq^ my beardless chops were my chief anxiety, but I'm dark enough, and an ugly scowl goes a long way.
I had my pepperbox, but I bought a belt and a Kashmir;
short sword in the market for added security, and to test
my appearance and elocution. I'm at my easiest as a
Pathan ruffler speaking Pushtu or, in this case, bad
Punjabi, so I spat a good deal, growled from the back of
my throat, and beat the booth-wallah down to half-price- he didn't even blink, so when I reached the alleys of the
native town I stopped at a stall for a chapatti and a gossip
to get the feel of things and pick up any shave* that might
be going. The lads of the village were full of the impending
war, and how the gorracharra had crossed the river
unopposed at the Harree ghat, and the British were
abandoning Ludhiana - which wasn't true, as it happened.
"They have lost the spirit," says one know-all.
"Afghanistan was the death of them." '
"Afghanistan is everyone's death," says another.
"Didn't my own uncle die at Jallalabad, peace be on him?"
"In the British war?" ^
"Nay, he was cook to a horse caravan, and a bazaar
woman gave him a loathsome disease. He had ointments,
from a hakim, + to no avail, for his nose fell off and he
died, raving. My aunt blamed the ointments. Who knows,
with an Afghan hakimt" |
"That is how we should slay the British!" cackles an ancient. "Send the Maharani to infect them! Hee-hee, she
must be rotten by now!"
I didn't care for that, and neither did a burly cove in a
cavalry coat. "Be decent, pig! She is the mother of thy
king, who will sit on the throne in London Fort when we
of the Khalsa have eaten the Sirkar's army!"
*Rumour. TChemist.
168
flear him!" scoffs the old comedian. "The Khalsa will
rcb on the ocean then, to reach London?"
"What ocean, fool? London lies only a few cos* beyond
Meerut."
"Is it so far?" says I, playing the yokel. "Have you
een there?"
"Myself, no," admitted the Khalsa bird. "But my havildar was there as a camel-driver. It is a poor place, by
all accounts, not so great as Lahore."
"Nay, now," cries the one with the poxy uncle. "The
houses in London are faced with gold, and even the public
privies have doors of silver. This I was told."
"That was before the war with the Afghans," says the
Khalsa's prize liar, whose style I was beginning to admire.
"It beggared the British, and now they are in debt to the
Jews; even Wellesley sahib, who broke Tipoo and the
Maharattas aforetime, can get no credit, and the young
queen and her waiting-women sell themselves on the
streets. So my havildar tells; he had one of them."
"Does he have his nose still?" cries another, and there
was great merriment.
"Aye, laugh!" cries the ancient. "But if London is
grown poor, where is all this loot on which we are to grow
fat when you heroes of the Pure have brought it home?"
"Now God give him wit! Where else but in Calcutta, in
the Hebrews' strong-boxes. We shall march on thither
when we have taken London and Glash-ka where they
grow tobacco and make the iron boats."
About as well-informed, you see, as our own public
were about India. I lingered a little longer, until I was
thinking in Punjabi, and then, with that well-known hollow
feeling in my innards, set off on my reluctant way.
The Shah Boorj is at the south-western corner of "ahore city, less than a mile away as the crow flies, but
nearer two when you must pick your way through the
*Cos = one and a half miles.
169
winding ways of the old town. Foul ways they were, too
running with filth past hovels tenanted by ugly beggar folk
who glared from doorways or scavenged among the refuse
with the rats and pi-dogs; the air was so poisonous that I
had to wrap my puggaree over my mouth, as though to
strain the pestilential vapours as I picked my way past
pools of rotting filth. A few fires among the dung-heaps
provided the only light, and everywhere there were
bright, wicked eyes, human and animal, that shrank away
as I approached, lengthening my stride to get through that
hellish place, but always I could imagine horrid shapes
pressing behind me, and blundered on like the chap in the
poem who daren't look back because he knows there's a
hideous goblin on his heels.
Presently the going was better, between high tenements
and warehouses, and only a few night-lurkers hurrying by.
Near the south wall the streets were wider, with decent
houses set back behind high walls; a couple oipalkis went
by, swaying between their bearers, and there was even a
chowkidar* patrolling with his lantern and staff. But I still
felt damnably alone, with the squalid, hostile warren
between me and home - that was how I now thought of
the Fort which I'd approached with such alarm a couple of
months ago. Very adaptable, we funks are.
The French Soldiers' cabaret was close to the Buttee
Gate, and if the Frog mercenaries whose crude portraits
adorned its walls could have seen it, they'd have sought
redress at law. They squinted out of their frames on a
great, noisy, reek-filled chamber - Ventura, Allard,
Court, and even my old chum Avitabile, looking like the
Italian bandit he was with his tasselled cap and spiky
moustachioes. I'd settle for you alongside this minute,
thinks I, as I surveyed the company: villainous two-rupee
bravos, painted harpies who should have been perched in
trees, a seedy flute-and-tom-tom band accompanying ^
*Constable. :>- ll B
170
uole of gyrating nautches whom you wouldn't have ^uched with a long pole, and Sikh brandy fit to corrode a
. -j^et. I'll never say a word against Boodle's again, says I
myself; at least there you don't have to sit with your
back to the wall.
I found a stool between two beauties who'd evidently
been sleeping in a camel stable, bought a glass of arrack
that I took care not to drink, growled curtly when addressed,
and sat like a good little political, using the signals thumb
between the first two fingers and scratching my
right armpit from time to time. Half the clientele were
clawing themselves in the same way, with good reason,
which was disconcerting, but I sat grimly on, wishing I'd
gone into Holy Orders and ignoring the blandishments of
;undry viragos of the sort you can have for fourpence with
i mutton pie and a pint of beer thrown in, but better not,
or the pie meat's sure to be off. They sulked or snarled at
ne, according to taste, but the last one, a henna'd ban"shee
with bad teeth, said I was choosy, wasn't I, and what
had I expected in a place like this - Bibi Kalil?
| There was so much noise that I doubted if anyone else
had heard her, but I waited till she'd flounced off, and
another ten minutes for luck. Then I rose and shouldered
my way to the door, taking my time; sure enough, she was
waiting in the shadow of the porch. Without a word she
led on up the alley, and I followed close, my heart thumping
and my hand on the pepperbox under my poshteen as I
scanned the shadows ahead. We went by twisting ways
until she stopped by a high wall with an open wicket.
Through the garden and round the house. Your friend is
waiting," she whispered, and vanished into the dark.
1 glanced about to mark lines of flight, and went eautiously in. A small bushy enclosure surrounded a tall
well-kept house, and directly before me a steep outside
a ^r ed up to a little "^d porch on the upper floor, with dimly-lit doorway beyond. Round the angle of the house nlv left light was spilling from a ground-floor room that
171
I couldn't see - that was my way, then, but even as I sa forward the light in the arch overhead shone brighter as
the door beyond was fully opened, and a woman came out
silently on to the little porch. She stood looking down intn
the garden, this way and that, but by then I was in the
bushes, taking stock.
Peering up through the leaves I could see her clearly and if this was Bibi Kalil I didn't mind a bit. She was tall
fine-featured as an Afghan, heavy of hip and bosom in her
fringed trousers and jacket, a matronly welterweight and ;,,; just my style. Then she moved back inside, and since my *% immediate business was round the corner on the ground
floor (alas!), I heaved a sigh and turned that way ... and
stopped dead as I recalled a word that my guide had used.
"Friend"? That wasn't political talk. "Brother" or
"sister" was usual . . . and whoever had instructed her
would have told her the exact words to say. Back to my
mind came that other queer phrase in Broadfoot's message:
"Say nothing to your orderly . . ." That hadn't been
quite pukka, either. They were just two tiny things, but all
of a sudden the dark seemed deeper and the night quieter.
Coward's instinct, if you like, but if I'm still here and in
good health, bar my creaky kidneys and a tendency to
wind, it's because I shy at motes, never mind beams - and
I don't walk straight in where I can scout first. So instead
of going openly round the house as directed, I skulked
round, behind the bushes, until I was past the angle and
could squint through the foliage into that well-lit ground
floor room with its open screens . . . and have a quic1 apoplectic fit to myself, holding on to a branch for
support.
There were half a dozen men in the room, armed and
waiting, and they included, inter alia, General Maka
Khan, his knife-toting sidekick Imam Shah, and that crazy
Akali who'd denounced Jeendan at the durbar. Leading
men of the Khalsa, sworn enemies of the Sirkar, waiting
for old Flash to roll in ... "friends", bigod! And I ^
172
nt to believe that Broadfoot had directed me to thern^ 01 Well I didn't, not for an instant - which was the time it
r>nk me to realise that something was hellishly, horribly
Li-one tnat ^ was a ^BP' an^ m^ ^ea* was a^]3ut m
ts jaws, and nothing for it but instant flight. You don't
'stop to reason how or why at times like that - you grit your
teeth to keep 'em from chattering, and back away slowly
through the bushes with your innards dissolving, taking
care not to rustle the leaves, until you're close by the gate,
when you think you hear furtive movement out in the
alley, and start violently, treading on a stick that snaps
with a report like a bloody howitzer, and you squeal and
leap three feet - and if you're lucky an angel of mercy in
fringed trousers reappears on the porch overhead, hissing:
"Flashman sahib! This way, quickly!"
I was up that stair like a fox with an arseful of buckshot,
tripping on the top step and falling headlong past the
woman and slap into the arms of a burly old ruffian who
was hobbling nimbly out of the inner doorway. I had a
glimpse of huge white whiskers and glaring eyes under a
black turban, but before I could exclaim I was in a bear's
grip with a hand like a ham over my mouth.
"Chub'rao! KhabadarF* growls he. "A thousand hells
-- get your great infidel foot off my toe! Don't you English
know what it is to have the gout, then?" And to the
woman: "Have they heard?" 4
She stood a moment on the porch, listening, and then ^id in, closing the door softly. "There are men in the ^Hey, and sounds from the garden room!" Her voice was oeep and husky, and in the dim light I could see her
Poonts bouncing with agitation.
Shaitan take them!" snarls he. "It's now or not at all, "en! Down, chabeli,^ by the secret stair - look for
"kal and the horses!" He was bundling me into the
;m. "Haste, woman!"
*^Be quief careful!" :. ^
sweetheart. -&
B-
173
"He won't be there yet!" whispers the woman. "w..l
their look-outs in the streets he must even wait!" She shot
me a swift look, moistening her full lips. "Besides, I fear
the dark. Do you go, while I wait here with him."
"God, she would flirt on the edge of the Pit!" fumes the
old buck. "Have ye no sense of fitness, with the house
crawling with foes and my foot like to burst? Away and
look out from the street window, I say! You can ravish
him another time!"
She glared but went, flitting across the shadowy chamber
to a low door in the far wall, while he stood gripping
my arm, the great white-whiskered head raised to listen,
but the only sounds were my heart hammering and his
own gusty breathing. He glanced at me, and spoke hoarse
and low.
"Flashman the Afghan killer - aye, ye have the beastly
look! They are down there - rats of the Khalsa, lying in
wait for you -" if y
"I know -1 saw them! How "
"You were lured, with a false message. Subtle fellows,
these."
I stared, horror-stricken. "But that's impossible! It...
it can't be false! No one could -" ^y.
"Oho, so you're not here, and neither are they!" says
he, grinning savagely. "Wait till their flayers set about
you, fool, and you'll change your mind! Are you armed?"
I showed him, and would you believe it, he fell into
whispered admiration of my pepperbox? "It turns so? Six
shots, you say? A marvel! With one of these, who needs
rent collectors? By God, at need we can cut our way out,
you with shot and I with steel! Fiend take the woman,
where is she? Ogling some prowler, like as not! Ah, my
poor foot - they say drink inflames it, but I believe it
comes of kneeling at prayer! Alas, why did I rise from my
bed this day?"
All this in muttered whispers in the gloom, and Dle beside myself with fear, not knowing what the devil ^as
174
except that the hosts of Midian were after me, but h } I seemed to have found two eccentric friends, thank -j _ agd whoever they might be, they weren't common
, .^ you don't take careful note at such times, but even
n the grip of funk I was aware that while the lady might
have a wanton eye, she talked like a sultana; the tiny
room was opulent as a palace, with dim lamps shining on
silk and silver; and my gouty old sportsman could only be
some tremendous swell. Command was in every line of
the stout, powerful figure, bold curved nose, and bristling
beard, and he was dressed like a fighting raja - a great
ruby in his turban, silver studs on the quilted leather jack,
black silk pyjamys tucked into high boots, and a jewelhiked
broadsword on his hip. Who on earth was he?
Keeping my voice down, I asked him, and he chuckled
and answered in his growling whisper, his eye on the
door.
"You cannot guess? So much for fame! Ah, but you
know me well, Flashman sahib - and that sweet hussy
whose tardiness perils our safety. Aye, ye've been busy
about our affairs these two months!" He grinned at my
bewilderment. "Bibi Kalil is only her pet name - she is the
widow of my brother, Soochet Singh, peace be on him.
And I am Goolab Singh."
If I stared, it wasn't in disbelief. He fitted the description
in Broadfoot's packets, even to the gout. But Goolab
Singh, once pretender to the throne, the rebel who'd made himself king in Kashmir in defiance of the durbar,
should have been "behind a rock up Jumoo way, with fifty
thousand hillmen", as George had put it. He must be the ^ost wanted man in Lahore this minute, for while there nad bee" some in the Khalsa who'd nominated him for
azlr> ^endan had since exposed him as a British ally -
nich was fine by me just then, but didn't explain hi? Presence here. J J ' r
Let that explain it," says he, as Bibi Kalil emerged from the low door. "This is her house, and the pretty
175
widow has admirers -" he pointed downwards ~ ", high in the Khalsa punches. She makes them welcom
they talk freely, and I, lying close to Lahore in these da
of trouble, hear it all from her. So when they hatch a olcw to take you - why, here am I, gout and all, to prove my
loyalty to the Sirkar by rescuing its servant "
"What the hell do they want with me?"
"To talk with you - over a slow fire, I believe ... well
little jujube, what of Donkal?"
"No sign of him - Goolab, there are men in the streets
and others in the garden!" Her voice shook, and her eyes
were wide in alarm, but she wasn't one of your vapouring
pieces. "I heard Imam Shah call for the wench who
brought you," she adds to me.
"Aye, well, there's an end to waiting," says Goolab
cheerfully. "She'll tell them you entered, they'll beat the
bushes - then they'll bethink them of upstairs . .." He
cocked an ear as distant voices came from the garden
below. "Maka Khan grows impatient. Have your revolving
gun ready. Englishman!"
}Bila^Kalil gave a little gasp, and pressed close to me,
trembling, but I was in no case to enjoy it; she put an arm
round me, and I clasped her instinctively - for reassurance,
not lust, I can tell you. The questions that had been
racing pell-mell through my mind - how I'd come to be
trapped in this gilded hell-hole, how those Khalsa swine
had known I was coming, why Goolab and this palpitating
armful were on hand to aid me - mattered nothing beside
those terrible words "slow fire", uttered almost idly by
this crazy old bandit who, with fifty thousand hillmen at
his call, had apparently brought only one who was farting
about in the dark . .. and then my blood froze and I
clutched the widow for support, as footsteps sounded on
the outside stair.
She clung in return, Goolab's hand dropped to his hilt^ and we waited there still as death, until a sharp knock W
on the door. A moment's pause, and then a man's voice:
176
"Lady? Are you there? My lady?"
-, turned those fine eyes on me, helplessly, and then
.-I, stepped close,, his lips at her ear. "Who is he?
D'ye know him?"
Her reply was a faint perfumed breath. "Sefreen Singh.
Aide to Maka Khan."
"An admirer?" The old devil was bright with mischief,
even now, and it was a moment before she shrugged and
whispered: "From a distance."
Another knock. "Lady?"
"Ask him what he wants," whispers Goolab.
I felt her tremble, but she did it well, calling out in a
sleepy voice: "Who is it?"  ^ jNJy';:.
"Sefreen Singh, my lady." A pause. "Are you . . .
pardon me ... are you alone?"
She waited and then called: "I'm asleep .. . what was
Bfeit? Of course I'm alone . .." Goolab grimaced over her
head at me - he was enjoying this, rot him!
"A thousand pardons, lady." The voice was all
apology. "I have orders to search. There is a badmash
about. If you will please to open . .."
"Well, he's not here," she was beginning, but Goolab
was at her ear again:
"We must let him in! But first . . . beguile him." He
winked. "If he is to enter with a weapon ready, let it not
JgS a steel one."
HShe glared, but nodded, gave me a melting glance as she
disengaged her right tit from my unwitting grasp, and
eaUed out impatiently. "Oh, very well. . . a moment..."
Goolab drew his sabre noiselessly, passed it to me, and
^k the short sword from my belt, pricking his thumb on
[he point. "He's mine. If I miss ... take off his head." He
"mped swiftly to the latch side of the door, motioned me
to statKl behind it, and nodded to the widow. She set her
"and on the bolt and spoke softly:
Sefreen Singh ... are you alone?" Honey wouldn't
^ve melted. ,
' 177
"Why . . . why, yes, my lady!"
"You're sure?" She gave a little murmuring laugh. "t
that case ... if you promise to stay a while ... you ma
come in . . ." |
She slipped the bolt, opened the door, and turned
away, glancing over her shoulder, and in steps Barnacle
Bill, not believing his luck, to receive Goolab's updriven
point beneath his bearded chin before he'd gone a step
One savage, expert thrust into the brain - he went down
without a sound, Goolab breaking his fall, and when I
turned from fumbling the door to with a shaking hand the
old ruffian was wiping his blade on the dead man's shirt.
"Eighty-two," chuckles he, and Bibi Kalil gave a long,
shuddering sigh between clenched teeth; her eyes were
shining with excitement. Aye, well, that's India for you.
"Now, away!" snaps Goolab. "This buys us moments,
no more! Do you show him the way down, chabeli} I'll
bide here until you're at the street door -" -?, J
.,-"Why?" cries the widow. "' 
; s|"0h, to beguile my leisure!" snarls he. "In case others
come knocking, you w^tfesiTheifer! Can I keep up, with
my foot afire? But I can hold a door - aye, or parley,
perchance! They may think twice before putting steel into
Goolab Singh!" He thrust us away. "Out with him,
woman, so that he can sing the praise of this night's work
to Hardinge sahib! Go! Never fear, I'll follow!"
But first she must embrace him, and he laughed and
kissed her, saying that she was a good-sister to be proud
of. Then she had me by the hand, and we were through
the low door and down stone steps to a passage which
ended in an iron grille. Beyond it the alley lay dark and
deserted, but she shrank back, gasping that we must wait.
Between the danger behind and the unknown perils out
yonder, I was scared neutral, and in a moment Goolab
came hobbling down, yelping at each step.
"I heard them on the outer stair! God's love, if th^
doesn't win me the White Queen's seal on Kashmir'
.5 no gratitude left! What, ah empty street! Well,
otv or not, we cannot wait! My sabre, Flashman - we e ' fellies need a full sweep! Now, barken - back to s0^ ^ we must, but if it grows hot, each for himself!"
"I'll not leave you, my lord!" cries Bibi Kalil. r "
"You'll do as I bid, insolence! At all costs, he must win
tear or our labour's wasted! Now - one either side of
e, and open the gate, softly ..."
"But Donkal is not come!" wails the widow.
"Donkal be damned! We have five feet among us, but
we'll lack three heads if we linger! Come on!"
We stumbled into the alley, the widow and I supporting
his ponderous weight, and blundered ahead into the dark,
myself in blind panic, Bibi Kalil whimpering softly, and
the Lord of Kashmir gasping blasphemies and encouragement
- all we needed was a bowl to put to sea in. From
beyond the house we could hear voices raised, and the
distant sound of hammering on a door, with someone
calling for Sefreen Singh. We reached the alley end, and
as Bibi Kalil sped ahead to scout, Goolab hung on my
shoulder, panting.
"Aye, get up, Sefreen, and let them in!" croaks he.
"All clear, sweetheart? Bless her plump limbs, when we
come to Jumoo she'll have a new emerald each day, and
singing girls to tell her stories - aye, and twenty stalwart
lads as bodyguards - on, on, quickly! Oh, for five sound
toes again!"
We stumbled round the corner and on into a little court
where four ways met, and a torch guttered in a bracket
overhead, casting weird shadows. Bibi Kalil sped to one of
the openings - and screamed suddenly, darting back,
Goolab stubbed his gouty foot and tumbled down, cursing,
and as I hauled him up two men came bounding out of
the alley and hurled themselves on us.
If they'd been out to kill, we'd have been done for, with me hauling at the stranded Goolab - but capture was what
they were after. The first clutched for my sword-arm, and
179
got my point in the shoulder for hs pains. "Shabash, Afghan killer!" roars Goolab, still 01 his knees, and ran
him through the body, but even as th; fellow went down,
his comrade threw himself on Gooltb, choking off the
triumphant yell of "Eighty-three!" .nd bearing him to
earth. Bibi Kalil ran in, screaming and tearing at the
attacker's face with her nails, while Idanced about making
shrill noises and looking for a clance to pink him until
it occurred to me that there we? better uses for my
time than this, and I turned tail up thi nearest alley.
Well, Goolab had said each for Hmself, but I won't
pretend that I've ever needed leave t< bolt. I hadn't been
given the precious gift of life to cast itiway in back alleys,
brawling on behalf of fat rajas and rndy widows, and I
was going like a startled fawn and reoicing in my youth
when I saw a glare of torchlight aheacof me, and realised
with horror that round the next come running feet were
approaching. Serve you right, poltrool, says you, for leaving
pals in the lurch, now you'll get pur cocoa - but we
practised absconders don't give up so;asy, I can tell you.
I came to a slithering halt, and as thepowers ^darkness
came surging into view, full of spitt and action, I was
stock-still and pointing back to the little court, where
Goolab and the widow could be seei apparently disembowelling
the Second Robber, wh wasn't taking it |
quietly.
"Here they are, brothers!" I shoied. "On, on, and
take them! They're ours!"
I even started back towards the cout, stumbling artistically
to let them catch up - and if 'ou think it was a
desperate stratagem . . . well, it was,?ut it seldom fails,
and it would have succeeded then ifi'd had the wit to
follow a yard or two farther as they reed past me. But I
was too quick to turn again and flee one of them must
have seen me from the tail of his eye ad realised that this
vociferous badmash wasn't one of the;ang, for he pulled
up, yelling, and came after me. I held'ny lead round one
180
corner and the next, saw a convenient opening and
dodged through it, and crouched gasping in the shadows
as the pursuit went tearing by. I leaned against the wall,
eyes closed, utterly done with fear and exertion, getting my breath back, and only when I took a cautious peep out
did it strike me that the scenery was familiar ... the little
wicket in the opening ... I squealed aloud, wheeling
round, and sure enough, there before me was the outside
stairway up to the porch, and two fellows were carrying
down the earthly remains of Sefreen Singh, and from
various parts of Bibi Kalil's garden about a dozen bearded
faces were regarding me with astonishment. Among them,
not ten feet away, arms akimbo and scowling like a
teetotal magistrate, was General Maka Khan, and beside
him, exclaiming with unholy delight, was the Akali
fanatic.
I've said I don't give up easy, and it's with pride that I
recall tumbling out into the alley and tottering away, calling
for the police, but they were on me within five yards,
bearing me bodily into the garden, while I announced my
name and consequence at the top of my voice, until they
stuffed a gag into my mouth. They dragged me round to
the garden room and thrust me into a chair, two holding
my arms and a third my hair; they were street rascals, but
the others who crowded in were Khalsa to a man, some in
uniform; apart from Maka and the Akali there were Sikh
officers, a burly naik* of artillery with a hideously-pitted
face, and Imam Shah, knives and all. He threw my blood- gained short sword on the table. Wj- ,
"Two dead in the street, lord general," says he. "And
your aide, Sefreen. The others who were with this one
have not yet been found "
"Then stop the search," says Maka Khan. "We have
what we want - and if one of the others is who I think he is
the less we see of him the better."
"Corporal.
181
"And the widow?" cries the Akali. "That practising slut who has betrayed us?"
"Let them both go! They'll do us less harm alive than if
we had their deaths to answer for." He pointed at me
"Remove the gag."
They did, and I choked down my fear and was beginning
my diplomatic bluster, demanding release and safeconduct
and immunity and the rest, but I'd barely got the
length of warning them of the consequences of assaulting
an accredited envoy when Maka Khan snapped me off
short.
"You are no envoy - and you've forgotten what it is to
be a soldier!" barks he. "You are a murderer and a spy!"
"It's a lie! I didn't kill him, I swear! It was Goolab
Singh! Damn you all, loose me this instant, you villains, or
it'll be the worse for you! I'm an agent of Sir Henry
Hardinge "
"An agent of Black-coat Broadfoot!" blazes the Akali,
shaking his fist. "You send out cyphers, betraying the
secrets of our durbar! You put them in the Holy Book by
your bed - blaspheming your own putrid faith! - whence
your old punkah-wallah took them to a courier for Simla!
Aye, until we found him out two weeks ago, and questioned
him," gloats this maniac, "and learned enough to
nail your guilt to your forehead! Aye, gape, spy! We know
No doubt I was gaping - in part, at the news that the
mysterious messenger of Second Thessalonians was not
Mangia, as I'd suspected, but that lean-shanked ancient
who'd operated my fan so inefficiently . . . and who must have vanished without my noticing, to be replaced by the
clown I'd leathered only last night. But they were bluffing;
they could question the old buffoon until Hell froze those
cyphers were Greek to him, and to everyone else,
save Broadfoot and me. I wasn't reasoning too clearly. you understand, but I saw the line I must take.
"General Maka Khan!" cries I, no doubt in indignant
182
falsetto. "This is outrageous! I demand to be set free at
nee' To be sure I send coded messages to my chief - so does every ambassador, and you know it! But to suggest
that they contain any ... any secrets of the durbar, is ...
is why, it's a damnable insult! They ... they were my
confidential opinions on the Soochet legacy, for Sir Henry
and his advisers "
"Including your opinion that the astrologers' failure to
find a date for our march was caused by 'a lady's fine
Punjabi hand'?" says he, sternly. "Yes, Mr Flashman, we
have read that message, and every other that you've sent
this ten days past, as well as those coming to you from
Simla." So that was why George's correspondence had
dried up...
"We have enough to hang you, spy!" shouts the Akali,
spraying me with spittle. "But first we would know what
else you've betrayed - and you'll tell us, you sneaking
dog!"
I wasn't hearing aright ... or they were lying. They
might have intercepted messages - but they couldn't have
deciphered them, not in a century. Yet Maka had just
quoted my own words to Broadfoot . . . and Goolab had
spoken of a false message to entrap me. I hadn't had time
to ponder that impossibility ... no, it couldn't be so! The
key to that cypher was based on random words in an
English novel that they'd never heard of - and even if they
had, it would be as useless to them as a safe to which they
didn't know the combination.
"It's all false, I tell you!" I stammered. "General, I ^Ppeal to you! Those messages were innocent, on my
honour!"
He gave me a long cold stare while I babbled, and then he ^Ued out, and in trooped the oddest trio - a bespecacled
little weed of a chi-chi in a soiled European suit,
and two jelly-fat babus who smirked uneasily among all e ^gh military men. The chi-chi carried a sheaf of
' pers ^ich, at a sign from Maka Khan, were thrust
183
Hi; Reviewing my career in India, I'd say that
of all the wonders I saw there, that was the greatest. I dare
say one should be prepared for anything in a land where
an illiterate peasant girl can give you the square root of a
six-figure number at first glance, but when I reflect on the
skill and speed of those copyists, and the analytical genius
that penetrated that code . . . well, it can still rob me of
breath. Not as entirely as it did at the time, though.
"Your punkah-wallah confessed how you wrote your
cyphers with the aid of a book," sneers the Akali. "It was
copied in your absence, and compared with the intercepted
cyphers by these men, who are skilled in cryptography
- an Indian invention, as Major Broadfoot should
have borne in mind!"
"Oah, indeed! A veree simple cypher," chirps the chichi, while the babus beamed and nodded. "Quite elementaree,
you know, page numbers, dates of Christian
calendar, initial letters of arl-tamate lines "
"That will do," says Maka Khan, and dismissed them,
but one of the babus couldn't resist a backward gleek at
me. "Doctor Folliott and Mr McQuedy are jolly good
fun!" squeaks he, and waddled out as fast as he could go.
I sat sick and trembling. No wonder they'd been able to
fake a message to trap me - with one tiny error of style
which I'd been fool enough to ignore. What the devil had
I written in my cyphers, though . . . they'd spotted the
allusion to Jeendan, but I hadn't named her . .. but what
else had I said . . .?
"You see?" says Maka Khan. "What you have written
185
of late, we know. What else have you learned, up at the
Fort yonder?"
"Nothing, as God's my witness!" I bleated. "General,
upon my honour, sir! I protest . . . your cryptographers
are mistaken - or lying! Yes, that's it!" I hollered. "It's a
beastly plot, to discredit me - to give you an excuse for
war! Well, it won't serve, you scoundrels! What? Yes, it
will, I mean - you'll learn fast enough "
"Let's have him below!" snarls the Akali. "He'll babble
as freely as his creature did!" There were growls of
agreement from the others, and I fairly neighed in alarm. |B
"What d'you mean, damn you? I'm a British Officer,
and if you lay a finger -" They clapped the gag over my
mouth again, and I could only listen in horror while the
Akali swore that time was pressing, so the sooner they set
about me the better, and they argued to and fro until
Maka Khan turned them all out of the room, except for
my three guards and the pock-marked naik - his face gave x me the shudders, but I took some comfort from the fact that Maka had taken matters on himself; damned uncivil
he'd been, what with "spy" and "murderer", but he was
a gentleman and a soldier, after all, and like calls to like,
you know. Why, standing there tall and erect, glaring at
me and twisting his grizzled moustache, he might have
been any staff colonel at Horse Guards, bar the turban.
Better still, he addressed me in English, so that the others
should be none the wiser.
"You spoke of war," says he. "It has begun. Our
advance guard is already across the Sutlej.27 In a few days
there will be a general engagement between the Khalsa
and the Company army under Sir Hugh Gough. I tell you
this so that you may understand your position - you are
now beyond help from Simla."
So it had finally come, and I was a prisoner of war.
Well, better here than there - at least I'd be out of harm's
way.
"No, you are not a prisoner!" snaps Maka Khan. "You
are a spy! Be quiet!" He took a turn about, and leaned
down to stare grimly into my face. "We of the Khalsa
laiow that our queen regent has turned traitor. We also
suspect the loyalty of Lal Singh, our Wazir, and Tej Singh,
our field commander. You have been Mai Jeendan's
intimate - her lover. We know she has sent assurances
through you to Broadfoot - so much is plain from your
recent cyphers. But what has she betrayed, in detail, of
our plan of campaign - numbers, dispositions, lines of
march, objectives, equipment?" He paused, his black
eyes boring into mine. "Your one hope, Flashman, lies in
full disclosure .. . immediately."
"But I don't know anything, I tell you! Nothing^ I've
not heard a word of... of plans or objectives or any such
thing! And I haven't even seen Mai Jeendan for weeks "
"Her woman Mangia visited you last night!" His words
came out like rapid fire. "You spent hours together what
did she tell you? How have you passed it to Simla?
Through her? Or the man Harlan, who poses as your
orderly? Or by some other means? We know you sent no
cypher today "
"As God's my judge, it ain't true! She told me
nothing!" ^,
"Then why did she visit you?" & '
"Why . . . why . .. because, well, we've grown friendly,
don't you know? I mean ... we talk, you see, and . . . Not
a word of politics, I swear! We just .. . converse .. . and
so forth.. ."
God, it sounded lame, as the truth often does, and it
drove him into a rage. "Either you're a fool, or you think
I am!" he rasped. "Very well, I'll waste no more time!
Your punkah-wallah spoke under persuasion ... in
unspeakable pain, which I trust you will spare yourself.
You have a choice: speak to me now, in this room ... or
to this fellow ..." He indicated the pock-marked naik, ^o took a pace forward, scowling ". . . in the cellar
below." ,.
f.,-
187
For a moment I didn't believe my ears. Oh, I'd been
threatened with torture before, by savages like Gul Shah
and those beastly Malagassies - but this was a man of
honour, a general, an aristocrat! I wouldn't believe it, not
from someone who might have been Cardigan's own
brother, dammit "You
don't mean it!" I yelped. "I don't believe you!/ It's a trick ... a mean, cowardly trick! You wouldn't
dare! But you're trying to frighten me, damn you . . ."
"Yes, I am." His voice and eyes were dead level. "But
it is no empty threat. There is too much at stake. We are .
beyond diplomatic niceties, or the laws of war. Very soon
now, hundreds - perhaps thousands - of men will be dying
in agony beyond the Sutlej, Indian and British alike. I
cannot afford to spare you, when the fate of the war may
depend on what you can tell me."
By God, he did mean it - and before that iron stare I
broke down utterly, weeping and begging him to believe me.
"But I don't know a damned thing! For Christ's sake,
it's the truth! Yes, yes, she's betraying you! She promised
to warn us ... and, yes! she's delayed, and made the
astrologers bungle it -" ;
"You tell me what I know already!" cries he
impatiently.
"But it's all / know, blast you! She never said a word of
plans - oh, if she had I'd tell you! Please, sir, for pity's
sake, don't let them torture me! I can't bear it - and it'd
do no good, damn you, you cruel old bastard, because
I've nothing to confess! Oh, God, if I had, I'd tell you, if I
could "
"I doubt it. Indeed, I am sure you would not," says he,
and before those words and tone, suddenly so flat, almost
weary, I left off blubbering to stare. He was standing
ramrod straight, but not in disgust or contempt at my
ravings - if anything, he looked regretful, with a touch of
ruptured nobility, even. I couldn't fathom it until, to my
188
horrified amazement, he went on, in the same quiet voice:
"You overplay the coward's part too far, Mr Flashman.
You would have me believe you an abject, broken thing,
dead to honour, a cur who would confess everything,
betray everything, at a mere threat - and on whom, therefore,
torture would be wasted." He shook his head.
"Major Broadfoot does not employ such people - and
your own reputation belies you. No, you will tell nothing
... until pain robs you of your reason. You know your
duty, as I know mine. It drives us both to shameful
extremes - me, to barbarism for my country's sake; you,
to this pretence of cowardice - a legitimate ruse in a political
agent, but not convincing from the man who held
Piper's Fort! I am sorry." His mouth worked for a
moment, and I won't swear there wasn't a tear in his
blasted eye. "I can give you an hour . . . before they
begin. For God's sake, use it to see reason! Take him
down!"
He turned away, like a strong suffering man who's had
the last word. He hadn't, though. "Pretence!" I
screamed, as they hauled me from the chair. "You bloody
old halfwit, it's true! I'm not shamming, damn you, I
swear it! I can't tell you anything! Oh, Jesus! Please,
please, let me be! Mercy, you foul old kite! Can't you see
I'm telling the truth!"
By that time they were dragging me through the garden
to the back of the house, thrusting me through a low ironshod
door and down an immensely long flight of stone ^eps into the depths of a great cellar, a dank tomb of
rough stone walls with only a small window high up on the far side. A choking acrid smell rose to meet us, and as the wik set a burning torch in a bracket by the stair foot, the
source of that stench became horribly apparent.
"Are you weary, Daghabazi SahibT'* cries he. "See,
we have a fine bed for you to rest on!"
"Kaghabazi^reachery.
189 I looked, and almost swooned. In the centre of the
earth floor lay a great rectangular tray in which charcoal
glowed faintly under a coating of ash, and about three feet
above it was a rusty iron grill like a bedstead - with
manacles at head and foot. Watching my face, the naik cackled with laughter, and taking up a long poker, went
forward and tapped open two little vents on either side of
the tray. The charcoal near the vents glowed a little
brighter.
"Gently blows the air," gloats he, "and slowly grows
the heat." He laid a hand on the grill. "A little warm,
only .. . but in an hour it will be warmer. Daghabav Sahib will begin to feel it, then. He may even find his
tongue." He tossed the poker aside. "Put him to bed!"
I can't describe the horror of it. I couldn't even scream
as they ran me forward and flung me down on that
diabolic gridiron, snapping the fetters on my wrists and
ankles so that I was held supine, unable to do more than
writhe on the rusty bars - and then the pock-marked fiend
picked up a pair of bellows from the floor, grinning with
savage delight.
"You will be in some discomfort when we return, Daghabazi Sahib} Then we shall open the vents a little
more - your punkah-wallah cooked slowly, for many
hours - did he not, Jan? Oh, he spoke long before he
began to roast. . . that followed, though I think he had no
more to tell." He leaned down to laugh in my face. "And
if you find it tedious, we may hasten matters - thus!"
He thrust the bellows under the foot of the grill, pumping
once, a sudden gust of heat struck my calves - and I
found my tongue at last, in a shriek that tore my throat,
again and again, as I struggled helplessly. They crowed
with laughter, those devils, as I raved in terror and
imagined agony, swearing I had nothing to tell, pleading
for mercy, promising them anything - a fortune if they'd
let me go, rupees and mohurs by the lakh, God knows
what else. Then perhaps I swooned in earnest, for all I
remember is the waft's jeering voice from far off: "In an
hour's time! Rest well, Daghabazi SahW and the clang of the iron door.
There are, in case you didn't know it, five degrees of
torture, as laid down by the Spanish Inquisition, and I was
now suffering the fourth - the last before the bodily torment
begins. How I kept my sanity is a mystery - I'm not
sure but that I did go mad, for a spell, for I came out of my
swoon babbling: "No, no, Dawson, I swear I didn't
peach! 'twasn't me - it was Speedicut! He blabbed on you
to her father - not me! I swear it - oh, please, please,
Dawson, don't roast me!", and I could see the fat brute's
great whiskered moon face leering into mine as he held
me before the schoolroom fire, vowing to bake me till I
blistered. I know now that that roasting at Rugby was
worse, for real corporal anguish, than my ordeal at
Lahore - but at least I'd known that Dawson must leave
off at the last, whereas in Bibi Kalil's cellar, with the
growing heat only beginning to make my back and legs
tingle and run rivers of sweat, I knew that it would continue,
hotter and ever hotter, to the unspeakable end.
That's the horror of the fourth degree, as the Inquisitors
knew - but while their heretics and religious idiots could
always get off by telling the bloody Dagoes what they
wanted to hear, I couldn't. I didn't know.
The mind's a strange mechanism. Chained to that
abominable grill, I began to bum, and strained to arch my
body away from the bars, until I fainted again - and when
I came to my senses, why, I was only uncomfortably warm for a moment - until I remembered where I was, and in an
instant my clothes were catching fire, the flames were
scorching my flesh, and I shrieked my way into oblivion fnce more. Yet it was only in my mind; my clothing was
barely being singed - whereas Dawson burned my
britches' arse out, the fat swine, and I couldn't sit for a
week.
I can't tell how long it was before I realised that, while
191
undoubtedly getting hotter and being half-suffocated h
fumes, I had not yet burst into flames. The discovert
steadied me enough to leave off my incoherent squealino
and weeping, and rave to some purpose, bellowing my
name, rank, and diplomatic status at the very top of my
voice, in the faint hope that it might carry through that
high window to the distant alleys around the house and
attract the attention of a friendly passer-by - you know
some reckless adventurer or knight errant who'd think
nothing of invading a house full of Khalsa thugs to rescue
a perfect stranger who was browning nicely in the cellar.
Aye, laugh, but it saved me - and taught me the folly of
stoic silence. If I'd been Dick Champion, biting the bullet
and disdaining to cry out, I'd have been broiled to cinders;
roaring my coward head off did the trick - but only just in
time. For my hollering was starting to fade to a hoarse
whimper, and the growing heat beating up from below
was forcing me to toss and turn continuously, when I
heard the noise. I couldn't place it at first ... a distant
scraping, too heavy for a rat, coming from overhead. I
forced myself to lie still, labouring for breath . . . there it
was again! Then it stopped, to be followed by a different
sound, and for a dreadful moment I knew I had gone mad
in that hellish dungeon ... it wasn't possible, it could only
be a tortured delusion, that in the darkness above me
someone, very softly, was whistling "Drink, puppy,
drink".
Suddenly I knew it was real. I was in my senses, wnthing
on that grill, gasping for air - but there it was again,
faint but clear from outside the window, the little hunting
song that I've whistled all my life - "Harry's Pibroch",
Elspeth calls it. Someone was using it to signal -1 tried to
moisten my parched lips with a tongue like leather, found
I couldn't, and in desperation began to croak:
For he'll grow into a hound,
So we'll pass the bottle round,
And merrily we'll whoop and holloa!28
Silence, except for my gasps and groans, then a scrambling
rush, a thud, and through the suffocating mist a
fipure was looming over me, and a horrified face was
peering into mine.
"Holy Jesus!" cries Jassa - and as the bolt rasped back
in the door he fairly flung himself away, burrowing among
the rubble in the shadows along the wall. The door swung
open, and the naik appeared on the threshold. For a long,
awful moment he stood looking down at me as I struggled
and panted on the grill - in a frenzy of fear that he'd seen
Jassa, that the fatal hour was up ... and then he sang out:
"Is the bed to your liking, Daghabazi Sahibf What, not
warm enough yet? Oh, patience . . . only a moment
now!"
He guffawed at his own priceless wit, and went out,
leaving the door ajar - and here was Jassa, muttering
hideous oaths as he worked at my fetters. They were
simple bolts, and in a moment he had them loose and I
had lurched off that hellish gridiron and was lying face
down on the filthy cool earth, panting and retching. Jassa
knelt beside me, urging haste, and I forced myself up; my
back and legs were smarting, but didn't feel as though
they were badly burned, and with the naik plainly about to
return at any moment I was in a fever to be away.
"Can you climb?" whispers Jassa, and I saw there was a
camel rope dangling from the window fifteen feet above
our heads. "I'll go first - if you can't make it, we'll haul
you!" He seized the rope and walked up the wall like an
acrobat, until he had his legs over the sill. "Up - quick!"
"e hissed, and I leaned on the wall a second to fetch my
reath and my senses, rubbed my hands on the dirt, and ''"d hold on the rope. ,.?
I may not be brave, but I'm strong, and exhausted as I
s 1 climbed by my arms alone, hauling my dead weight t^er hand, bumping and scraping against the wall 193
no work for a weakling, but my mortal funk was such that
I could have done it with Henry VIII on my back. ud 1^1 went, nearly sick with hope, and the sill wasn't a yardi^ above me when I heard the door thrown back in the cell
below. .;
I almost let go my hold in despair, but even as a ye]]
sounded from the doorway, Jassa's hand was on my collar,
and I heaved for my life. I got an elbow on the sill
looked down, and saw the naik bounding down the steps
with his gang at his heels. Jassa was through the window,
hauling at me, and I got a leg over the sill; from the tail of
my eye I saw one of the ruffians below swinging back his
hand, there was a flash of steel, and I winced away as a
thrown knife struck sparks from the wall. Jassa's pistol
banged deafeningly before my face, and I saw the naik stagger and fail. I yelled with joy, and then I was over the
sill. "Drop!" shouts Jassa, and I fell about ten feet, landing
with a jar that sent a stabbing pain through my left
ankle. I took one step and went down, bleating, as Jassa
dropped beside me and heaved me up again.
My heart went out to Goolab Singh and his gouty foot
in that moment, as I thought: crocked, bigod, and only
one leg to run with. Jassa had me by the shoulders; he let
out a piercing whistle and suddenly there was a man on my
other side, stooping beneath my arm. Between them they
half-carried me, howling at every step; two shots sounded
somewhere to my left, I saw pistol-flashes in the gloom,
people were yelling, branches whipped my face as we
blundered along, and then we were in an alley, a mounted
man was alongside, and Jassa was heaving me alfflos1 bodily up behind. I clasped the rider round the waist turning to look back, and there was Bibi Kalil's gate, a11"
a cowled black figure was cutting with a sabre at someons within and then sprinting after us.
The alley seemed to be full of horsemen - in fact there were only four, including Jassa. Voices were yellii12 behind us, feet were pounding, a torch was flaring in w
194 j
teway - and then we were round the corner.
"Gently does the trick," says Jassa, at my elbow.
"They ai"'1 horsed. You doing well there, lieutenant?
Rieht, jemadar, walk-march - trot!" He urged his beast
ahead, and we swung in behind him. '
However he came there, he was a complete hand, our
Philadelphia sawbones. Left to myself I'd have been off
full tilt, blundering heaven knows where and coming to
grief like as not. Jassa knew just where he wanted to go,
and what time he had in hand; we trotted round a corner
into a little court which I recognised as the one in which
Goolab and I had opened the batting, and lo! there were
two more riders on post, and to my astonishment I
recognised them, and my rescuers, as black robes of Alick
Gardner's. Well, no doubt all would be made clear
presently. They led the way up a long lane, and at the end
Jassa reined in to look back - by George, there were
torches entering the lane at a run, a bare fifty paces
behind, and suddenly all my pain and fear and bewilderment
vanished in overwhelming bhnd rage (as often happens
when I've been terrified to death, and reckon I'm
safe). By God, I'd make 'em pay, the vile, torturing
scoundrels; there was a pistol in my rider's saddle holster,
and I plucked it out, bellowing, while Jassa demanded to
know what the devil I was about.
"I'm going to kill one of those murdering bastards!" I
roared. "Lay hands on me, you poxy vermin, you! Broil meon a damned gridiron, will you? Take that, you sonsi-bitches!"
I blazed away, and had the satisfaction of ^ing the torches scatter, though none of them went
feel8^' won't that larn 'em' thouShr cries Jassa- "You Bob v61 now' lieutenant? You're sure - don't want to
jild' and burn their barn down? Fine - achha, jemadar,
ai^ 1 we did, at a steady canter in the broader ways, a walk in the twisting alleys, and as we rode I
195
learned from Jassa what had brought my saviours sd (i,. eleventh hour.
He, it seemed, had been keeping a closer eye on me for
weeks than ever I knew. He had spotted me leaving the
Fort, and trailed me, wondering, to the French Soldien'
canteen and Bibi Kalil's house. Skulking in the shadows
he'd seen me received by the widow, and having a foul
mind, supposed I was bedded for the night. Fortunately
he'd skulked farther, spied the Khalsa bigwigs downstairs
and realised that there was villainy afoot. Deciding that he
could do nothing alone, he'd legged it for the Fort, and
made straight for Gardner.
"I figured you were treed, and needed help in numbers.
Alick was the only hope - he may not cotton to me,
exactly, but when I told him how you were under the same
roof as Maka Khan and the Akali, didn't he jump, just?
Didn't come himself, though - bad policy for him to be
seen crossing the Khalsa, don't you know? But he told off the jemadar and a detail, and we hit the leather. I scouted
the house, but no sign of you. A couple of sentries perambulating
in the garden, though, and then I heard you
hollering from the back of the house. I took a quiet slant
that way, and marked the window your noise seemed to
be coming from - say, you're a right audible soldier, ain't
you? After that, two of the jemadar's fellows smoothed '),' out the sentries, and took station while he and I slipped
along to your window - and here you are. They're capable,
Alick's boys, no error. But what took you into that
bear's den - and what in Creation were they doing to
you?"
I didn't tell him. The events of the night were still3 hideous jumble in my mind, and reaction had me m' grip. I was shaking so hard I barely kept the saddle,
wanted to vomit, and my ankle was throbbing with pa1"' Once again, when all seemed well, Lahore had become
nightmare, with enemies all about - the only bright si" was that there seemed no lack of worthy souls eager
luck me out of the soup. God bless America, if you like -
they'd turned up trumps again, at no small risk to themselves,
for if the Khalsa got wind that Gardner was aiding
enemies of the state, he'd be in queer street.
"Pon't you fret about Alick!" snorts Jassa. "He's got
more lives'n a cat, and more nuts on the fire than you can
count. He's Dalip's man, and Jeendan's man, and best
chums with Broadfoot, and he's Goolab Singh's agent in
Lahore, and -"
Goolab Singh! That was another who took an uncommon
interest in Flashy's welfare. I was beginning to feel
like a fives pill being thrashed about in a four-hand fifteenup,
with my seams split and the twine showing. Well, to
the devil with it, I'd had enough. I reined in and demanded
of Jassa where we were going; I'd been half aware
that we were threading our way through the alleys near
the south wall, and once or twice we'd skirted under the
wall itself; we'd passed the great Looharree Gate and the
Halfmoon Battery and were abreast of the Shah Alumee,
which meant we were holding east, and were no nearer
the Fort than when we'd started. Not that I minded that.
"For I'm not going back there, I can tell you! Broadfoot
can peddle his pack and be damned! This bloody
place ain't safe -"
"That's what Gardner reckoned," says Jassa. "He
thinks you should make tracks for British territory. You "low the war's started? Yes, sir, the Khalsa's over the "ver at half a dozen places between Harree-ke-puttan and
erozepore - eighty thousand horse, foot, and guns on a
"irty-mile front. God knows where Gough is - halfway to
e"" with his tail between his legs if you believe the ba^ but I doubt it."
Lim0" thousand at Ferozepore, I was thinking. Well,
tho was done for ~ wheeler' i00' with "is P'tirul nve
reinf8^ at ^u(lmana unless Gough had managed to
d,^ , rce- I'd had no sure word for three weeks, but it ^em possible that he could have concentrated
197
strongly enough to resist the overwhelming Sikh tide that
was pouring over the Sutlej. I thought of the vast horde
I'd seen on Maian Mir, the massed battalions of foot, the
endless squadrons of horse, those superb guns . .. and of
Gough frustrated at every turn by that ass Hardinge, our
sepoys on the edge of desertion or mutiny, our piecemeal
garrisons strung along the frontier and down the Meerut
road. Now it had come, like a hammer-blow, and we'd
been caught napping, as usual. Well, Gough had better
have God on his side, for if he didn't. .. farewell, India.
Which mattered rather less to me than the fact that I
-was a fugitive with a game ankle in the heart of the enemy
camp. So much for Broadfoot's idiot notions - I'd be safe
in Lahore during hostilities, indeed! A fat lot of protection
Jeendan could give me now, with the Khalsa wise to her
treachery; it would be a tulwar, not a diamond, that would
be decorating her pretty navel shortly. |
"Moochee Gate," says Jassa, and over the low hovels
I saw the towers ahead and to our right. We were
approaching a broad street leading down to the gate,
and the mouth of the alley was crowded with
bystanders, even at that time of night, all craning to
see; a band of music was playing a spirited march, there
was the steady tramp of feet, and down the avenue to
the gate came three regiments of Khalsa infantry stalwart
musketeers in white with black cross-belts, their
pieces at the shoulder, bayonets fixed; then Dogra light
infantry in green, with white trousers, muskets at the
trail; a battalion of spearmen in white flowing robes,
their sashes bristling with pistols, their broad turbans
wound round steel caps surmounted by green plumes.
They swung along with a fierce purpose that made nay
heart sink, the flaring cressets on the wall glittering
on that forest of steel as it passed under the arch, the
girls showering them with petals as they passed, the chi- cos striding alongside, shrilling with delight - half
Lahore seemed to have left its bed that night to see the
troops march away to join their comrades on the river.
As each regiment approached the arch it gave a great
cheer, and I thanked God for the shadows as I saw that
they were saluting a little knot of mounted officers in
gorgeous coats, with the rotund figure ofTej Singh at their
head. He was wearing a puggaree as big as himself, and
enough jewellery to start a shop; he shook a sheathed tulwar over his head in response to the troops' weapons
brandished in unison as they chanted: "Khalsa-jV. Wa
Guru-ji ko Futteh To Delhi! To London! Victory!"
After them came cavalry, regular units, lancers in white
and dragoons in red, jingling by, and finally a baggage
train of camels, and Tej left off saluting, the band gave
over, and people turned away to the booths and grog
shops. Jassa told the jemadar to have the riders follow us
singly, and then my rider dismounted and Jassa began to
lead my beast down towards the gate. ; "Hold
on," says I. "Where away?" %^
"That's your way home, wouldn't you say?" says he,
and when I reminded him that I was all in, dry, famished,
and one-legged, he grinned all over his ugly mug and said
that would be attended to directly, I'd see. So I let him
lead on under the great arch, past the spearmen standing
guard in their mail coats and helms; my puggaree, like my
sword and pepperbox, had gone during the evening's
activities, but one of the riders had lent me a cloak with a
hood, which I kept close about my face; no one gave us a
second glance.
Beyond the gate were the usual shanties and hovels of
the beggars, but farther out on the maidan a few camp
fires were winking, and Jassa made for one beside a little
grove of white poplars, where a small tent was pitched, ^th a couple of horses picketed close by. The first streak f dawn was lightening the sky to the east, silhouetting the camels and wagons on the southern road; the night air was
ry and bitter cold, and I was shivering as we reached the re- A man squatting on a rug beside it rose at our
199
approach, and before I saw his face I recognised the long
rangy figure of Gardner. He nodded curtly to me, and
asked Jassa if there had been any trouble, or pursuit.
"Now, Alick, you know me!" cries that worthy, and
Gardner growled, that he did, and how many signatures
had he forged along the way. The same genial Gurdana
Khan, I could see - but just the sight of that fierce eye and
jutting nose made me feel safe for the first time that night.
"What's wrong with your foot?" snaps he, as I climbed
awkwardly down and leaned, wincing, on Jassa. I told
him, and he swore.
^||"You have a singular gift for making the sparks fly
upward! Let's have a look at it." He prodded, making me
yelp. "Damnation! It'll take days to mend! Very well, Doctor Harian, there's cold water in the chatti - let's see
you exercise the medical skill that was the talk of Pennsylvania,
I don't doubt! There's curry in the pan, and
coffee on the fire."
He picketed the horse while I wolfed curry and chapattis and Jassa bound my ankle with a cold cloth; it was badly
sprained and swollen like a football, but he had a soothing
touch and made it feel easier. Gardner came back to squat
cross-legged beyond the fire, drinking coffee with the aid
of his iron neck-clamp and eyeing me sourly. He'd left off
his bumbee tartan rig, no doubt to avoid notice, and wore
a cowled black robe, with his Khyber knife across his
knees: a damned discouraging sight all round, with questions
to match.
"Now, Mr Flashman," growls he. "Explain yourself. What folly took you among the Khalsa - and at such a
time, too? Well, sir - what were you doing in that house?"
I knew I would be relying on him for my passage hoine,
so I told him - all of it, from the false message to Jassa's
rescue, and he listened with a face like flint. The only
interruption came from Jassa, when I mentioned my
encounter with Goolab Singh.
"You don't say! The old Golden Hen! Now what would
.il
^|e be doing so far from Kashmir?" Gardner rounded on
"Minding his own dam' business! And you'll do likewise
Josiah, you hear me? Not a word about him! Yes. . .
while I think on it, you'd best take yourself out of
earshot."
"That's for Mr Flashman to say!" retorts Jassa.
"Mr Flashman agrees with me!" barks Gardner, fixing
me with a cold eye, so I nodded, and Jassa loafed off in a
pet. "He did well by you tonight," says Gardner, watching
him go, "but I still wouldn't trust him across the
street. Go on."
I finished my tale, and he observed with grim satisfaction
that it had all fallen out for the best. I said I was glad
he thought so, and pointed out that it wasn't his arse that
had been toasted over a slow fire. He just grunted.
"Maka Khan'd never ha' gone through with it. He'd try
to scare you, but torture isn't his style."
"The devil it ain't! Good God, man, I was half-broiled,
I tell you! Those swine would have stopped at nothing!
Why, they roasted my punkah-wallah to death "
"So they told you. Even if they did, a no-account nigger's
one thing, a white officer's another. Still, you were
lucky ... thanks to Josiah. Yes, and to Goolab Singh."
I asked him why he thought Goolab and the widow had
taken such risks on my behalf, and he stared at me as
though I were half-witted. ^
"He told you plain enough, I'd say! The more good
turns he does the British, the better they'll like him. He's
promised to stand by 'em in the war, but protecting you is
worth a thousand words. He's counting on you to do him "edit with Hardinge - and you do it, d'you hear? ^oolab's an old fox, but he's a brave man and a strong rtuer; and deserves to have your people confirm him as ""g in Kashmir when this war's over."
" seemed to me he was being optimistic in thinking we d be in a position to confirm anyone in Kashmir when
^ 201
the Khalsa had done with us, but I didn't care to croak in
front of a Yankee, so I said offhand: "You think we'll
beat the Khalsa quite handily, then?"
"There'll be some damned long faces in Lahore Fort if
you don't," says he bluntly, and before I could ask him to
explain that bewildering remark, he added: "But you'll be
able to watch the fight from the ringside yourself, before
the week's out."
"I don't see that," says I. "I agree I can't stay in
Lahore, but I'm in no case to ride for the frontier in a
hurry, either - not with this confounded leg. I mean, even
in disguise, you never know -1 might have to cut and run,
and I'd rather have two sound pins for that, what?" So
you'd best find me a safe, comfortable spot to lie up in
meanwhile, was what I was hinting, and waited for him to
agree. He didn't.
"We can't wait for your leg to mend! This war is liable
to be won and lost in a few days at most - which means
you must be across the Sutlej without delay, even if you
have to be carried!" He glared at me, whiskers bristling.
"The fate of India may well depend on that, Mr
Flashman!" ;^ I
The sun couldn't have got him, not in December, and
he wasn't tight. Tactfully I asked him how the fate of India
came into it, since I had no vital intelligence to take with
me, and my addition to the forces of the Company, while
no doubt welcome in its small way, could hardly be
decisive.
"Forces of the Company my aunt's petticoat!" snarls
he. "You're going in with the Khalsa!"
/--,
^
202
If life has taught me anything at all, it's yw to keep my countenance in the presence of strong,
ithoritative men whose rightful place is in a padded cell. we known a power of them, to my cost, and Alick Garde's
a minor figure in a list that includes the likes of
ismarck, Palmerston, Lincoln, Gordon, John Charity M-ing, M.A., George Custer, and the White Raja, to say ithing of my beloved mentor, Dr Arnold, and my old
iv'nor (who did end his days in a blue-devil factory, bless
im). Many of them men of genius, no doubt, but all taring the delusion that they could put any proposal, 3wever lunatic, to young Flashy and make him like it.
here's no arguing with such fellows, of course; all you
a do, if you're lucky, is nod and say: "Well, sir, that's
i interesting notion, to be sure - just before you tell me
ore about it, would you excuse me for a moment?" and
ice you're round the corner, make for the high ground. we seldom had that chance, unfortunately, and there's athing for it but to sit with an expression of attentive liocy trying to figure a way out. Which is what I did with
ardner while he elaborated his monstrous suggestion.
"You're going with the Khalsa," says he, "to ensure its rfeat. It's doomed and damned already, thanks to Mai ^dan - but you can make it certain." You see what I mean - the man was plainly must*
ust is the madness of the rogue elephant. Doolali= insane, from all Camp, inland from Bombay, where generations of British
"Hers Cinrliirlinn >, ^;*^-{ .,,-- ., ^a ;_ T-,1;,, --j - _
^"ly were affected by sunstroke.
doolali, afflicted of Allah, too long in the hills altogether ~ but one doesn't like to say so, straight out, not to a chap
who affects tartan pants and has a Khyber knife across his
lap. So I avoided the main point for a lesser but equally
curious one.
"I don't quite follow, Gardner, old fellow," says I.
"You say the Khalsa's doomed . . . and it's Jeendan doing? But . . . she never wanted this war, you know.
She's been working to avoid it - hocussing the Khalsa,
delaying 'em, holding 'em back. They know it, too -
Maka Khan told me. And now they've broken loose, in
spite of her "
"In spite of ... why, you jackass!" cries he, glaring like
the Ancient Mariner. "She started it! Don't you understand
- she's been planning this war for months! Why? To
destroy the Khalsa, of course - to see it exterminated, '" root and branch! Sure, she held 'em back - until the cold
weather, until she'd fixed it so they have the worst possible
generals, until she'd bought time for Gough! But not
to avoid war, no sir! Just to make sure that when she did send 'em in, the Khalsa would get whipped five ways to
Sunday! Don't you know that?"
"Talk sense - why should she want to destroy her own
army?" fey;,
"Because if she doesn't, it will sure as hell destroy her in the end!" He fetched a deep breath. "See here ... you
know the Khalsa's gotten too big for its britches, don't
you? For six years it's been ruining the Punjab, defying
government, doing as it dam' well pleases -" 9 ^. "I know all that, but -" ~ ^ "Well, don't you see, the ruling clique - Jeendan and
the nobles - have had their power and fortunes wiped out,
their very existence threatened? So of course they want
the Khalsa crushed - and the only force on earth that can
do that is John Company! That's why they've been trying
to provoke a war - that's why Jawaheer wanted one! But
they murdered him - and that's another
204
jeendan has to settle. You remember her that night at
Maian Mir, don't you? She was sentencing the Khalsa
then, Mr Flashman - now she's executing them!"
I remembered her screaming hate at the Khalsa over
jawaheer's body - but Gardner still wasn't making sense.
"Dammit, if the Khalsa goes under, she'll go with it!" I protested. "She's their queen - and you say she's set them
on! Well, if they lose, she'll be finished, won't she?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "Son, it won't even take
the dander out of her hair. When they lose, she's won. Consider ... Britain doesn't want to conquer the Punjab
- too much trouble. It just wants it nice and quiet, with no
Khalsa running wild, and a stable Sikh government who'll
do what Hardinge tells 'em. So ... when the Khalsa's
licked, your chiefs won't annex the Punjab - no, sir!
They'll find it convenient to keep little Dalip on the
throne, with Jeendan as regent - which means that she
and the nobles will be riding high again, squeezing the fat
out of the country just like old times - and with no Khalsa
to worry about."
"Hold on! Are you saying that this war's a put-up job that
they know, in Simla, that Jeendan is hoping we'll
destroy her army, for her own benefit? I won't have that!
Why, it'd be collusion . . . conspiracy . . . aiding and abetting-"

"No such thing! Oh, they know in Simla what she's after - or they suspect, leastways. But what can they do
about it? Give the Khalsa free passage to Delhi?" He
snorted. "Hardinge's got to fight, whether he likes it or not! And while he may not welcome the war, there are
plenty of 'forward policy' men like Broadfoot who do.
But that doesn't mean they're in cahoots with Mai
Jeendan - the way she's fixed things, they don't need to
be!"
l sat silent, trying to take it in ... and feeling no end of a tool. Evidently I had misjudged the lady. Oh, I'd gues- ^ there was steel inside my drunken, avid little houri,
205
but hardly of the temper that could slaughter scores n thousands of men just for her own political convenien
and personal comfort. Mind you, what other reasons d statesmen and princes ever have for making war, when an
the sham's been stripped away? Oh, and she had her so of a brother to avenge, to be sure. But I wondered if he
calculations were right; I could spot one almighty imponderable, and I voiced it to Gardner, whether h
sounded like croaking or not.
"But suppose we don't beat the Khalsa? How can she
be so sure we will? There's a hell of a lot of 'em, and we're
spread thin . . . Wait, though! Maka Khan was in a great
sweat in case she'd betrayed their plans of campaigni
Well, has she?"
Gardner shook his head. "She's done better than that.
She's put the conduct of the war in the hands of Lal Singh,
her Wazir and lover, and Tej Singh, her commander-inchief
who'd set fire to his own mother to keep warm." He
nodded grimly. "They'll see to it that Gough doesn't have
too much trouble."
Suddenly I remembered Lal Singh's words to me ... "I
wonder how we should acquit ourselves against such a
seasoned campaigner as Sir Hugh Gough ...?"
"My God," says I, with reverence. "You mean they're
ready to ... to fight a cross? To sell the pass? But... does
Gough know? I mean, have they arranged with him ?"
"No, sir. That's your part. That's why you have to join the Khalsa." He leaned forward, the hawk face close to
mine. "You're going to Lal Singh. By tomorrow he'll be
lying before Ferozepore with twenty thousand gorracharra. He'll tell you his plans, and Tej Singh's - numbers,
armaments, dispositions, intentions, all of it - ao"
you'll carry them to Gough and Hardinge. And then .
well, it should be an interesting little war . . . what's th
matter?"
I'd been struggling for speech during this fearful recital' but when I found words it wasn't to protest, or argue,of
206
ajn but to pose a profound militar^Tly question:
^But ^elvs bells! Look here 1 T^y can 8^ b^^ nc _ arrange for a few regiments to*^ go astray - lose aP
..,-  numose. I dare saw . . . But, iiman alive, how d<w
rose. "When it's over, and you're back -ijin Lahore wit11 th British peace mission - you can tell me;9! all about it."
in Lahore with these
little on purpose, I dare say ... But, ^man alive, how di a v betray an army of a hundred thoi-^sand men? I meai
bow d'you sell a whole hw?" i
'' ..it'll take management, no denying. ' A - T --A " '"^
11 U L0&^ MAf***o-"""', ---- --------^------^- , " - -------'
esting little war-" He tossed mother biN|llet on the fire, an
As I said, an inter--
.... __ , TT- <.-- J ^---.4.1.^-U:

- ^
j^Brst thought, as I sat by the fire W^tith my head in my"
-----. ^1-'-  r>-.-,/./a^^*-, A^.^^ u T-To'c rtlann^/1 thf^- hands,
was: this is Broadfoot's doing-I He's planned the?;
whole hideous thing, start to finish, 9s nd kept me in the ^ dark till the last moment, the treachef111 ous, crooked, con- -
niving, Scotch . . . political! Well, I ^ ooing him an,
injustice; for once, George was inJ1" locent. He mightr welcome the war. as Gardner had said,.- and faaw a shrewd ; Khalsa in the hope-- for anyone else iner 1 commanders weres.-
welcome the war, as Gardner had said,,
notion that Jeendan was launching the
of seeing it wrecked, but neither he <
Simla knew that the Sikhs' two leadings under her orders to give the whole gars* e b^y- N()r couldfc. he guess the base use that was being S made of his prize^- agent. Lieutenant Flashman, late 111^11 Hussars, in thisfc hour of crisis. E
The notion that I should be the me'^ seneer of betrayal|l had been another inspiration of Jeen^*1 lans' according to^. Gardner. How long she'd had me in c^"^ for the To^ of
go-between, he didn't know; she'd cort^ldeu lt to hlm onlyg- the previous day, and he and Mangia -^.oulu have brought^ my marching orders that same nigt^, " 1 "^^ bee" -way gallivanting with the Khalsa ar^iGoolab and the 'nerry widow. Most inconsiderate of ^ e' but a11 s in that
ends ill - here I was still, ankle crocket and guts ferment- ^g with fright, meet to be hurled iatrt0 the so"P in fur207
Ka h
therance of that degenerate royal doxy's intrigues, and no
way to cry off that I could see.
I tried, you may be sure, pleading my ankle, and the
impossibility of taking orders from any but my own chiefs
and the folly of venturing again among enemies who'd
already toasted me to a turn - Gardner answered every
objection with the blunt fact that someone had to take
Lal's plans to Gough, and no one else had my qualifications.
It was my duty, says he, and if you wonder that I
bowed to his authority - well, take a squint at the portrait
in his Memoirs, that should convince you.
I'm still not sure, by the way, exactly where his loyalties
lay. To Dalip and Jeendan, certainly: what she ordered,
he performed. But he played a staunch game on our
behalf, too, and on Goolab Singh's. When I ventured to
ask him where he stood, he looked down that beak of a
nose and snapped: "On my own two feet!" So there.
He had Jeendan's infernal scheme all pat, and after I'd
had a couple of hours' sleep and Jassa had rebound my
swollen ankle, he lined it out to me; horrid risky it
sounded.
"You ride straight hence to Lal's camp beyond the
Sutlej, with four of my men as escort, all of you disguised
as gorracharra. Ganpat there will act as leader and
spokesman; he's a safe man." This was his jemadar, a lean
Punjabi with an Abanazar moustache; he and the halfdozen
other riders had come out from the city by now, and
were loafing round the fire, chewing betel and spitting.
while Gardner bullied me privately. <;'
"You'll arrive by night, presenting yourselves as nies^'
engers from the durbar; that'll see you into L^ presence. He'll be expecting you; word of mouth goes^0 him today from Jeendan." ''f
"Suppose Maka Khan or that bloody Akali turn up '
they'll recognise me straight off -" ,
"They'll be nowhere near! They're infantrymen - L]w commands only cavalry and horse guns. Besides, no ont
208
oing to know you in gorracharra gear - and you won't be
n their camp long enough to signify. A few hours at most
just long enough to learn what Lal and Tej mean to do."
"They'll take Ferozepore," says I. "That's plain.
They're bound to put Littler out of the game before
Gough can relieve him."
He gave an impatient snarl. "That's what they'd do if
they wanted to win the goddam war! They don't! But their
brigadiers and colonels do, so Lal and Tej are going to
have to look as though they're trying like hell! Lal's going
to have to think of some damned good reason for not storming Ferozepore, and since he's a duffer of a soldier
as well as a yellow-belly, he's liable to go cross-eyed if his
subordinates present him with a sound plan .. . Now
what?"
"It won't do!" I bleated. "Maka Khan told me the
Khalsa already suspect them of disloyalty. Well, heavens
above, the moment Lal makes a move, or gives an order,
even, that looks fishy . . . why, they'll see he's pissing on
his own wicket!" yfe
"Will they? Who's to say what's a fishy move, or why
it's being made? You were in Afghanistan - how many
times did Elphinstone do the sensible thing, tell me that?
He was always wrong, godammit!" ^'Yes,but that was fat-headedness - not treachery!"
'Who knows the difference, confound it? You did what
you were told, and so will the Khalsa colonels! What do "ey know, if they're told to march from A to B, or retire
"from C, or open a candy store at D? They can't see the w"ole ranvas, only their own corner of it. Sure, they know uu and Tej are cowardly rascals who'd turn tail sooner
an eat' ^t they're still bound to obey." He gnawed his ^skers, growling. "I said it'U take managing, by Lal and
thf1 ^ an(^ ^ Gough, once he's learned from you what
^"Y150"1'' He stabbed me with a ^"y ^g^- "From
betr~ ^e P01"1' ^ Lal sent a native agent, promising Byal, Gough wouldn't give him the time of day. But
209
II
he knows you, and can trust what you tell him!"
And much good it would do him, I thought, for
however Lal and Tej mismanaged the Khalsa, they couldn't alter its numbers, or the zeal of its colonels, or
the quality of its soldiers, or the calibre of its guns. They
might supply Gough with full intelligence, but he was still
going to have to engage and break a disciplined army of a
hundred thousand men, with a Company force one-third
the size and under-gunned. I'd not have wagered two pice
on his chances.
But then, you see, I didn't know him. For that matter, I
didn't know much about war: Afghanistan had been a
rout, not a campaign, and Borneo an apprenticeship in piracy. I'd never seen a pukka battle, or the way a
seasoned commander (even one as daft as Paddy Gough)
can manage an army, or the effect of centuries of training
and discipline, or that phenomenon which I still don't
understand but which I've watched too often to doubt: the
British peasant looking death in the face, and hitching his
belt, and waiting.
My chief concern, of course, was the prospect of venturing
into the heart of the Khalsa and conspiring with a viper
like Lal Singh - with a game leg to prevent me lighting out
at speed if things went amiss, as they were bound to do.
Even sitting a mount hurt like sin, and to make matters
worse, Gardner said Jassa must stay behind. I couldn't
demur: half the Punjab knew that crafty phiz, and that he
was my orderly. But he'd pulled me clear twice now, and
I'd feel naked without him.
"Broadfoot needs a foot on the ground here, anyway,
says Gardner. "Never fear, dear Josiah will be safe under
my wing - and under my eye. While the war lasts I'm to be
governor of Lahore - which between ourselves is liableto consist of protecting Mai Jeendan when her disappoint soldiery come pouring back over the river. Yes, sir ' w surely earn our wages." He surveyed me in my S01 racharra outfit, of which the most important part was
teel cap, like a Roundhead's, with long cheek-pieces that
helped conceal my face. "You'll do. Let your beard grow,
andleave the talking to Ganpat. You'll make Kussoor this
afternoon; lie up there and go down to the river ghat after
dark and you should fetch up with Lal Singh around dawn
tomorrow. I'll ride along with you a little ways."
We set off, the six of us, at about ten o'clock, riding
parallel with the south road. It was heavy with traffic for
the Khalsa - baggage and ration carts, ammunition
wagons, even teams of guns, for we were riding with the
rearguard of the army, a vast host spread across the dusty
plain, moving slowly south and east. Ahead of us the
doab* would be alive with the main body as far as the
Sutlej, beyond which Lal Singh was already investing
Ferozepore and Tej Singh's infantry would be advancing
... whither? We rode at a fast trot, which troubled my
ankle, but Gardner insisted we must keep up the pace if I
was to reach Lal in time.
"He's been over the Sutlej two days now. Gough must
be moving, and Lal's going to have to take order pretty
sharp, or his colonels will want to know why. I only
hope," says Gardner grimly, "that the weak-kneed sonof-a-bitch
doesn't run away - in which case we might just
have the gorracharra under the command of someone who
knows what the hell he's doing."
The more I thought of it, the madder the whole thing
sounded - but the maddest part of it was still to be
revealed. We'd made our noon halt, and Gardner was
turning back to Lahore, but first he rode a little way apart
wlt" me to make sure I had it all straight. We were on a
-e ^oll about a furlong from the road, along which a
^attalion of Sikh infantry was marching, tall stalwarts all
olive green, with their colonel riding ahead, colours
Ga <f' ^rums beating, bugles sounding a rousing air.
r may have said something to prompt my question,
T*
name yven to the tracts between the rivers of the Punjab.
211
but I don't recall; at any rate, I asked him:
"See here ... I know the Khalsa's been spoiling for this
- but if they know their own maharani has been conspirinc with the enemy, and suspect their own commanders
well, even the rank and file must have a shrewd idea their rulers want to see 'em beat. So ... why are they allowing themselves to be sent to war at all?"
He pondered this, and gave one of his rare wintry
smiles. "They reckon they can whip John Company.
Whoever may be crossing or betraying 'em, don't matterthey
think they can be champions of England. In which
case, they'll be the masters of Hindoostan, with an empire
to plunder. Maybe Mai Jeendan has that possibility in
mind, too, and figures she'll win, either way. Oh, she
could charm away the suspicions of treason; most of 'em
still worship her. Another reason they have for marching
is that they believe you British will invade them sooner or
later, so they might as well strike first."
He paused for a moment, frowning, and then said: "But
that's not the half of it. They're going to war because
they've taken their oaths to Dalip Singh Maharaja, and
he's sent them out in his name - never mind who put the
words in his mouth. So even if they knew they were
doomed beyond a doubt . . . they'd go to the sacrifice."
He turned to look at me. "You don't know the Sikhs, sir.
I do. They'll fight their way to hell and back ... for that little boy. And for their salt."
He sat gazing across the plain, where the marching battalion
was disappearing into the heat haze, the sun twinkling
on the bayonets, the sound of the bugles dying away- He shaded his eyes, and it was as though he was talking to
himself. ^#
"And when the Khalsa's beat, and Jeendan and her
noble crew are firm in the saddle again, and the Punjabi quiet under Britannia's benevolent eye, and little Dalips getting his hide tanned at Eton College . . . why then '
he gestured towards the road - "then, sir, John Cofflp^
212
^rand he has a hundred thousand of the best recmits on
^rth ready to fight for the White Queen. Because that's
 ' trade. And it'll all have turned out best for
vervbody, I guess. Lot of good men will have died first,
Aough. Sikh. Indian. British." He glanced at me, and
nodded. "That's why Hardinge has held off all this time.
He's probably the only man in India who thinks the price
is too high. Now it's going to be paid."
He was a strange bird this - all bark and fury most of the
time, then quiet and philosophical, which sorted most
oddly with his Ghazi figurehead. He chucked the reins and
wheeled his pony. "Good luck, soldier. Give my salaams
to old Georgie Broadfoot." S^s
K .:.1^':'"""!^.; - - , 
213
) I
I've never cared, much, for service with
foreign forces. At best it's unfamiliar and uncomfortable,
and the rations are liable to play havoc with your innards.
The American Confederates weren't bad, I suppose, bar their habit of spitting on carpets, and the worst I can say of
the Yankees is that they took soldiering seriously and
seemed to be under the impression that they had invented
it. But the Malagassy army, of which I was SergeantGeneral,
was simply disgusting; the Apaches stink and
know dam' all about camp discipline; no one in the Foreign
Legion speaks decent French, the boots don't fit, and
the bayonet scabbard is a clanking piece of scrap. AH round, the only aliens in whose military employ I could
ever be called happy were the Sky-Blue Wolves of
Khokand - and that was only because I was full of hashish
administered by their general's mistress after I'd rogered
her in his absence. As for the Khalsa, the one good thing
about my service in its ranks (or perhaps I should say on
its general staff) was that it was short and to the point.
I count it from the moment we set out south, the six of
us in column of twos, gorracharra to the life in our oddments
of mail and plate and eccentric weapons; Gardner
had furnished me with two pistols and a sabre, and while
I'd have swapped the lot for my old pepperbox, I console" myself that with luck I'd never need to use them.
I was in two minds as we cantered down towafo5 Loolianee. On the one hand, I was relieved to elatlona leaving the horrors of Lahore behind me; when I thougo
of that hellish gridiron, and Chaund Cour's bath, and th
214 . ..__
hastiv fa^ of ^^hs1'' even the knowledge that I was ^nturing into the heart of the Khalsa didn't seem so
- ^ni a glance at the scowling unshaven thug reflected
. Qaidner's pocket mirror had told me that I needn't
fear detection; I might have come straight from Peshawar
Valley and no questions asked. And Lal Singh, being up
to his arse in treason, would be sure to speed me on my
way in quick time; in two days at most I'd be with my own
people again - with fresh laurels, too, as the Man Who
Brought the News that Saved the Army. If it did save it,
that is.
That was t'other side of the coin, and as we rode into
the thick of the invading army, all my old fears came
flooding back. We kept clear of the road, which was
choked with transport trains, but even on the doab we
found ourselves riding through regiment after regiment
marching in open order across the great sunbaked plain.
Twice, as you know, I'd seen the Khalsa mustered, but it
seemed that the half hadn't been shown unto me: now
they covered the land to the horizon, men, wagons, horses,
camels, and elephants, churning up the red dust into a
great haze that hung overhead in the windless air, making
noontide like dusk and filling the eyes and nostrils and
lungs. When we came to Kussoor late in the afternoon, it
was one great park of artillery, line upon line of massive
guns, 32 and 48 pounders - and I thought of our pathetic ^ and 16 pounders and horse artillery, and wondered "ow much use Lal's betrayal would be. Well, whatever "efell, I'd j-nst j^yg ^ pjgy ^y game leg for all it was
worth' and keep well clear of the action.
Khi6'8 8reat debate' by the ^V' about how large theMialsa
was, and how long it took to cross the Sutlej, but
3, Iact is that even the Sikhs don't know. I reckoned
to ^ ^"""dred thousand were on the move from Lahore
stre e ^ver' an(^ ^ know now that they'd been crossing in
sq ngt" for days and already had fifty thousand on the "ank, while Gough and Hardinge were trying to
215
scramble their dispersed thirty thousand together. Bm
muster rolls don't win wars. Concentration does ~ noi only getting there fastest with the mostest, as the chan said, but bringing 'em to bear in the right place. That's the
secret - and if you run into Lars Porsena he'll be the first
to tell you.29
At the time, I only knew what I could see - camp fires
all about us in a vast twinkling sea as we came down by
night to the Ferozepore ghat. Even in the small hours they
were swarming over the ferry in an endless tide; great
burning bales had been set on high poles on either bank,
glaring red on the three hundred yards of oily water, and
men and guns and beasts and wagons were being poled
across on anything that could float - barges and rafts and
even rowing boats. There were whole regiments waiting in
the dark to take their turn, and the ghat itself was Bedlam, but Ganpat thrust ahead, bawling that we were durbar
couriers, and we were given passage in a fisher craft carrying
a general and his staff. They ignored us poor gorracharra, and presently we came to the noisy confusion of
the southern bank, and made our way by inquiry to the
Wazir's headquarters.
Ferozepore itself lay a couple of miles or so from the
river, with the Sikhs in between, and how far their camp
extended up the south bank, God alone knows. The/d
been crossing as far up as Hurree-ke, and I suppose they" made a bridgehead of about thirty miles, but I ai111 certain. As near as I've been able to figure, Lal's headquarters
lay about two miles due north of Ferozepore, but
it was still dark when we passed through the lines often' lanes, all ablaze with torches. Most of his force were ^'
racharra, like ourselves, and my memory is of "er
bearded faces and steel caps, beasts stamping in the "ar'
and the steady throb of drums that they kept up all "S. doubtless to encourage Littler in his beleaguered oiitp0-" two miles away. ij
Lal's quarters were in a pavilion big enough to
216
. y'g circus - it even had smaller tents within it to
ise him and his retinue of staff and servants and peral
bodyguard. These last were tall villains with long
haimnail headdresses and ribbons on their muskets; they barred our way until Ganpat announced our business,
which caused a great scurry and consultation with
chamberlains and butlers. Although it was still the last
watch, and the great man was asleep, it was decided to
wake him at once, so we didn't have to wait above an hour
before being ushered into his sleeping pavilion, a silken
sanctum decked out like a bordello, with Lal sitting up
naked in bed while one wench dressed his hair and combed
his beard, another sprayed him with perfume, and a
third plied him with drink and titbits.
I've never seen a man in such a funk in my life. At our
previous meetings he'd been as cool, urbane, and commanding
as a handsome young Sikh noble can be; now he
was like a virgin with the vapours. He gave me one terrified
glance and looked quickly away, his fingers tugging
nervously at the bedclothes while the wenches completed
his toilet, and when one of them dropped her comb he
squealed like a spoiled child, slapped her, and drove them
out with shrill curses. Ganpat followed them, and the
moment he'd gone Lal was tumbling out of bed, hauling his robe about him and yammering at me in a hoarse
whisper.
Praise God you are here at last! I thought you would
S^"10' what is to be done?" He was ^y quivering
ih fright. "I've been at my wits' end for two days - and
ej "'"g11 is no help, the swine! He sits at Arufka, ^tending he must supervise the assembly, and leaves me God' nel Everyone is looking to me for orders - what in
^name am I to say to them?"
.""at have you said already?"
But that we must wait! what else can t saw' man? Feroy e ^"^ wait forever! They keep telling me that "Pore can be plucked like a ripe fruit, if I will but
217 give the word! And how can I answer them? How can
justify delay? I don't know!" He seized me by the win,
pleading. "You are a soldier - you can think of reasons
What shall I tell them?" |
I hadn't reckoned on this. I'd always thought mysllf
God's own original coward, but this fellow could have
given me ten yards in the hundred, and won screaming
Well, Gardner had warned me of that, and also that Lai
might have difficulty thinking of reasons for not attacking
Ferozepore - but I hadn't expected to find him at such a
complete nonplus as this. The man was on the edge of
hysterics, and plainly the first thing to be done was to calm
his panic (before it infected me, for one thing) and find
out how the land lay. I began by pointing out that I was an
invalid - I'd only been able to limp into his presence with
the aid of a stick - and that my first need was food, drink,
and a doctor to look at my ankle. That took him aback-it
always does, when you remind an Oriental of his manners
- and his women were summoned to bring refreshments
while a little hakim clucked over my swollen joint and said
I must keep my bed for a week. What they thought, to see
a hairy gorracharra sowar treated with such consideration
by their Wazir, I don't know. Lal fretted up and down,
and couldn't wait to drive them out again, and renew his
appeals for guidance.
By that time I'd got my thoughts into some order, at
least as far as his Ferozepore dilemma was concerned.
There are always a hundred good reasons for doing
nothing, and I'd hit on a couple - but first I must haw
information. I asked him how many men he had ready w
march. ^ .; 
"At hand, twenty-two thousand cavalry - they are ly^
full
a bare mile from Ferozepore, with the enemy lines in
view, I tell you! And Littler Sahib has a bare sevtf
thousand - only one British regiment, and the rest sepr
ready to desert to us! We know this from some who "a
already come over!" He gulped at his cup, his teeth ch
. pn the rim. "We could overrun him in an hour!
E?en a child can see that!"
"Have you sent messengers to him?" : S
"As if I would dare! Who could I trust? Already these
Khalsa bastards look at me askance - let them suspect that
I traffic with the enemy, and ..." He rolled his eyes and
flune his cup away in a passion. "And that drunken bitch
in Lahore gives me no help, no orders! While she couples
with her grooms, I wait to be butchered like Jawaheer "
"Now, see here, Wazir!" says I roughly, for his whining
was starting to give me the shakes. "You take hold, d'you
hear? Your position ain't all that desperate "
"You see a way out?" quavers he, clutching at me
again. "Oh, my dear friend, I knew you would not fail
me! Tell me, tell me, then - and let me embrace you!"
"You keep your bloody distance," says I. "What's Littier
doing?"
"Fortifying his lines. Yesterday he came out with his
whole garrison, and we thought he meant to attack us, and
held our ground. But my colonels say it was a feint to gain
time, and that I must storm his trenches! Oh, God, what
can I "
"Hold on - he's entrenched, you say? Is he still digging?
Capital - you can tell your colonels he's mining his
defences!"
"But will they believe me?" He wrung his hands. "Suppose
the deserters deny it?"
"Why should you trust deserting sepoys? How d'ye
know Littler hasn't sent 'em to give you false reports of
"is strength, eh? To lure you into attacking him?
erozepore's a ripe fruit, is it? Come, raja, you know the
it^h ~ foxy bastards' every one of us! Deuced odd, ain't ^ that we've left a weak garrison, cut off, just asking to ue attacked, what?"
He stared wide-eyed. "Is this true?"
to oubt il - but you don't know that," says I, warming
y work. "Anyway, it's a dam' good reason to give
219
your colonels for not attacking headlong. Now then, what
force has Tej Singh, and where?"
"Thirty thousand infantry, with heavy guns, behind us
along the river." He shuddered. "Thank God I have only
light artillery - with heavy pieces I should have no excuse
for not blowing Littler's position to rubble!" _
"Never mind Littler! What news of Gough?" |
"Two days ago he was at Lutwalla, a hundred miles
away! He will be here in two days - but word is that he has
scarcely ten thousand men, only half of them British! If he
comes on, we are sure to defeat him!" He was almost
crying, wrenching off his beard net and trembling like a
fever case. "What can I do to prevent it? Even if I give
reasons for not taking Ferozepore, I cannot avoid battle
with the Jangi lat} Help me, Flashman bahadur} Tell me
what I must do!"
Well, this was a real facer, if you like. Gardner, for all
his misgivings about Lal, had been sure that he and Tej
would have some scheme for leading their army to
destruction - that was what I was here for, dammit, to
carry their plans to Gough! And it was plain as a pikestaff
that they hadn't any. And Lal expected me, a junior officer,
to plot his own defeat for him. And as I stared at that
shivering, helpless clown, it came to me with awful clarity
that if I didn't, no one else would.
It ain't the kind of problem you meet every day. I doubt
if it's ever been posed at Staff College . .. "Now then, Mr
Flashman, you command an army fifty thousand strong,
with heavy guns, well supplied, their lines of communication
protected by an excellent river. Against you is a force
of only ten thousand, with light guns, exhausted after a
week's forced marching, short of food and fodder and
damned near dying of thirst. Now then, sir, answer
directly, no hedging - how do you lose, hey? Come, come,
you've just given excellent reasons for not taking a town
that's lying at your mercy! This should be child's play to a
man with your God-given gift of catastrophe! Well, sir?"
Lal was gibbering at me, his eyes full of terrified
entreaty - and I knew that if I wavered now it would be all
up with him. He'd break, and his colonels would either
hang or depose him, and put a decent soldier in his place the
very thing that Gardner had feared. And that would
be the end of Gough's advancing force, and perhaps the
war and British India. And no doubt, of me. But if I
could rally this spineless wreck, and think of some plan
that would satisfy his colonels and at the same time bring
the Khalsa to destruction . . . Aye, just so. ; *Nft^
To gain time, I asked for a map, and he pawed among his
gear and produced a splendid illuminated document with
all the forts in red and the rivers in turquoise, and little
bearded wallahs with tulwars chasing each other round the
margin on elephants. I studied it, trying to think, and
gripping my belt to keep my hand from trembling.
I've told you I didn't know much about war, in those
days. Tactically, I was a novice who could bungle a section
flanking movement with the worst of them - but strategy's
another matter. At its simplest, it's mere common sense and
if the First Sikh War was anything, it was simple,
thank God. Also, strategy seldom involves your own
neck. So I conned the map, weighing the facts that Lal had
given me, and applied the age-old laws that you learn in
the school playground.
To win, the Khalsa need only take Ferozepore and wait
for Gough to come and be slaughtered by overwhelming
dds and big guns. To lose, they must be divided, and the
weaker part sent to meet Gough with as little artillery as
Possible. If I could contrive that the first battle was on "ear level terms, or even odds of three to two against us,
d have given Gough victory on a lordly dish. Daft he "^ght be, but he could still out-manoeuvre any Sikh commander,
and if they didn't have their big guns along,
ntish cavalry and infantry would do the business. Gough "elieved in the bayonet: give him a chance to use it, and ne Khalsa were beat - in the first battle, at least. After
221
that, Paddy would have to take care of the war himself.
So I figured, with the sweat cold on my skin, my ankle
giving me hell's delight, and Lal mumping at my elbow.
D'you know, that steadied me - encountering a liver
whiter than my own. Well, it don't happen that often.
This is what I told him:
"Call your staff together - generals and brigadiers, no
colonels. Tej Singh as well. Tell 'em you won't attack
Ferozepore, because it's mined, you don't trust the
deserters' tale of Littler's weakness, and as Wazir it's
beneath your dignity to engage anyone but the Jangi lot himself. Also, there's a risk that if you get embroiled with
Littler, and Gough arrives early, you may be caught
between two fires. Don't let 'em argue. Simply say that
. Ferozepore don't matter, d'you see - it can be wiped up
when you've settled Gough. Lay down the law, highhanded.
Very good?"
He nodded, rubbing his face and biting his knuckle - he
had the wind up to such a tune that I swear if I'd told him
to march on Ceylon, he'd have cried amen. f
"Now, your gorracharra are deployed already - send
them against Gough with their horse artillery, pointing
out that they outnumber him two to one. You'll meet him
somewhere between here and Woodnee, and if you
detach some of your force to entrench at Ferozeshah or
Sultan Khan Wallah, you'll reduce the odds, d'you see?
Gough will do the rest "
"But Tej Singh?" he bleated. "He has thirty thousand
infantry, and the heavy guns -"
"He's to sit down here and watch Littler, in place o* your gorracharra. Yes, yes, I know - that don't take thirty
thousand men. He must divide his force in turn, leaving only enough to watch Ferozepore, while the rest follow you as slowly as Tej can decently arrange - it'll take hii" time to bring 'em down here from the river, and if he sets
about it in the right spirit he can waste the best part of* week, I daresay-"
222
"But to divide the Khalsa?" goggles he. "It is not good
strategy, surely? The generals will not permit "
"To hell with the generals - you're the Wazir!" cries I.
"It's bloody good strategy, you can tell 'em, to send your
most mobile troops to meet the Jangi lat when he leasts
expects 'em and his own men are so fagged they'll be
marching on their chinstraps! Tej Singh will back you up,
if you prime him first "
"But suppose . . . suppose we beat the Jangi lat - he has
only ten thousand, and as you say, they will be tired "
"Tired or not, they'll tear your gorracharra to pieces if
the odds ain't too heavy! And I doubt if Gough's as weak
as you think. Good God, man, he's got another twenty
thousand somewhere between Ludhiana and Umballa he
ain't going to send 'em on furlough, you know! And
the Khalsa will be in three parts, don't you see? Well,
none of those three parts is going to be a match for Paddy
Gough's boys, let me tell you!"
I believed it, too, and if I wasn't altogether right it was
because I lacked experience. I was trusting to the old
maxim that one British soldier is worth any two niggers
any day. It's a fair rule of thumb, mind you, but I can look
back now on my military career and count four exceptions
who always gave Atkins a damned good run for his money. Three of them were Zulu, John Gurkha, and
Fuzzy-wuzzy. I wasn't to know, then, that the fourth one ^s the Sikh.
It took me another hour of explanation and argument to convince Lal that my scheme was his only hope of getting
is army properly leathered. It was hard sledding, for he tras ^e kind of coward who's too far gone even to clutch
,1 ^ws - not my kind of funk at all. In the end I gave lm ^endan's recipe to Jawaheer, which you'll recall was 0 rattle a wench to put him in fighting trim, but whether uu'took it or not I can't say, for I caulked out in an alcove
to
"^pavilion, and didn't wake until noon. By that time
ej ^ngh had arrived, still fat as butter and quite as reli-
223
able, to judge from the furtive enthusiasm with which he
greeted me. But while he was every bit as windy as Lal, he
was a sight smarter, and once the Flashman Plan had been
expounded he hailed it as a masterpiece; let my directions
be followed and Gough would have the Khalsa looking
like a Frenchman's knapsack in no time, was Tej's view. I
guessed that what really commended my scheme to him
was that he'd be well away from the firing, but he showed
a good grasp of the details, and had some sound notions of
his own: one, I remember, was that he would take care to
keep his guarding force on the north and west of
Ferozepore, so that Littler would be able to slip away and
join Gough without hindrance if he wanted to. That, as
you'U see, proved to be of prime importance, so I reckon
Tej earned himself a Ferozeshah medal for that alone, if
everyone had his due.
You must imagine our conference being carried on in
lowered voices in Lal's sleeping quarters, and a bonny trio
we were. Our gallant Wazir, when he wasn't peeping out
to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, was brisking
himself up with copious pinches of Peshawar snuff which I
suspect contained something a sight more stimulating than
powdered tobacco; he seemed to take heart from the confidence
of Tej Singh, who paced the apartment like
Napoleon at Marengo, heaving his guts before him and
tripping over his sabre while describing to me, in a gloating
whisper, how the Khalsa would flee in disorder at the first
setback; I lay nursing my ankle, trying to forget my own
perilous situation and praying that Lal Singh could browbeat
his staff into obedience before the effect of the snuff
wore off. I wonder if there was ever such a conspiracy ir the history of war: two generals intent on scuppering their
own army, confabulating sotto voce with an agent from th*' enemy, while their commanders waited impatiently o11*'
side for the word that (with luck) would send them marclr
ing to ruin? You would think not, but knowing hulO^ nature and the military mind, I'd not wager on it.
I stayed hidden when Lal and Tej went out in the afternoon
to announce their intentions to the divisional commanders.
Lal was brave in silver armour, with a desperate
glitter in his eye - half fear, half hashish, I would guess and
they held their conference on horseback, with
Ferozepore in view. Tej told me later that the Wazir was
in capital form, lining out my plan like a drill sergeant and
snarling down any hint of opposition, of which there was
less than I'd feared. The fact was, you see, that the
strategy looked sound enough, but what impressed them
most, apparently, was Lal's refusal to engage any commander
except Gough himself. That argued pride and
confidence, and they cheered him to the echo, and
couldn't wait to get under way. The gorracharra were
riding east before dusk, and Tej, by his own account,
made a great meal of sending orders to mobilise his foot
and guns, with gallopers riding in all directions, bugles
" lowing, and the Commander-in-Chief finally retiring to
al's tent, having issued orders which with luck would
>ke days to untangle.
The final scene of the comedy took place that night
before I rode out. Lal was keen that I should make
straight for Gough, to let him know what good boys Lal
and Tej were being, offering up the Khalsa for destruction,
but I wasn't having that. Gough might be anywhere
over the eastern horizon, and I had no intention of hunt"^ him through country which by now was swarming with gorracharra; far better, I said, if I rode the couple of miles
to Ferozepore, where Littler would see that Gough got tue glad news in good time (and Flashy could take a well- earned repose). Tej agreed, and said I should go under a
8 of truce, ostensibly carrying the Wazir's final demand 0 Littler to surrender. Lal boggled at that, but Tej grew ^cited, pointing out the risk if I tried to sneak into -"tier's lines unobserved.
Suppose he were shot by a sentry?" squeaks he, wav6
ois podgy hands. "Then the Jangi lat would never
?.', 225
know of our good will to him, or the plans we have made
for the destruction of these Khalsa swine! And our dear
friend" - that was me - "would have died in vain! It is not
to be thought of!" I found myself liking Tej Singh's style
better by the minute. f
"But will the colonels not suspect treason, if they see* courier sent to Littler Sahib?" cries Lal. The puggle had ,
worn off by now, and he was lying exhausted on his silken S
bed, fretting himself witless. ^ |
"They will not even know!" cries Tej. "And only think
- once our dear bahadur has spoken with Littler Sahib,
our credit with the Sirkar is assured! Whatever may happen,
our friendship will have been made plain!"
That was the great thing with him - to stand well with
Simla, whatever happened to the Khalsa. He even proposed
that I carry a written message, expressing Lal's
undying devotion to the Sirkar; it would be so much more
convincing than mere word of mouth. This so horrified Lal
that he almost hid under the sheets.
"A written message? Are you mad? What if it went
astray? Am I to sign my own death-warrant?" He flung ^ about in a passion. "You write it, then! You announce your treason, over your signature! Why not, you're Com- mander-in-chief, you fat tub of dung "
"You are Wazir!" retorts Tej. "This is a high political
affair, and what am I but a soldier?" He shrugged complacently.
"You need say nothing of military matters; a mere expression of friendship will suffice." ;
Lal said he'd see him damned first, and they snarled and whined, with Lal weeping and tearing the bedclothes.
Finally he gave in, and penned the following remarkable
note to Nicolson, the political: "I have crossed with tt^ Khalsa. You know my friendship for the British. Tell n" what to do."30 He bilked at signing, though, and aflef more shrill bickering Tej turned to me.
"It will have to do. Tell Nicolson Sahib it is from the Wazir!" '
226
"From both of us, you greasy bastard!" yelps Lal.
"Make that clear, Flashman bahadur} Both of us! And tell
heffl io God's name, that we and the bibi sahiba* are
their loya[ friends, and that we beg them to cut up these
hodffwshes and burchos^ of the Khalsa, and free us all
from this evil! Tell them that!"
So it was that in the small hours a gorracharra rider
with a game leg and a white flag on his lance rode out of
the Khalsa lines and down to Ferozepore, leaving behind
two Sikh generals, one fat and frightened and t'other
having hysterics with a pillow over his face, both conscious
of duty well done, I don't doubt. As for me, I went half a mile and sat down under a thorn tree to wait for
dawn; for one thing, now that I was so nearly home, I "wanted a moment to study how best to wring credit out of
my unexpected arrival with such momentous news, and
for another, flag of truce or not, I wasn't risking a bullet
from a nervous sepoy in the half-light. I was dog-tired,
what with lack of sleep, funk, and bodily anguish, but I
was a happy man, I can tell you - and happier yet, three
hours later, when I'd been admitted by a sentry of the
62nd whose Whitechapel challenge was music to my
ears, and hobbled painfully into the presence of Peter
Nicolson, who'd seen me off across the Sutlej three months ago.
He didn't know me at first, and then he was on his feet,
steadying me as I staggered artistically, bravely gritting roy teeth against the agony of my ankle (which was feeling much better, by the way).
"Flashman! What on earth are you doin' here? Good wd, man, you're all in - are you wounded?"
, ^nat don't matter!" gasps I, subsiding on his cot.
Small memento from a Khalsa dungeon, what? See here, ^er, there's no time to lose!" I shoved Lal's note at him,
^eendan ruffians.
227 /and gave him the marrow of the business in a fev^y
sentences, insisting that a galloper must ride to Goyy once to let him know that the Philistines were on theei
and ready to be smitten hip and thigh. I didni'(
1111 "courtesy of H. Flashman", just then; that was a ccc
sion they could leap to presently.
He was a smart political, Nicolson: he grasped th^m, at once, bawled for his orderly to fetch Colonel Vauyhy.
tiandt, pumped my hand in delight, said he could h^d). credit it, but it was the finest piece of work heVd
heard - I'd come through the Khalsa in disguise;,
with Lal and Tej, made 'em split their forces, comae
with their plans? Good God, he'd never heard thie
etc., etc.
Jallalabad all over again, thinks I contentedly,
while he strode out shouting that a galloper nunst
directly to Littler, who was out on a reconnoitre, I rha ved
up for a dekko in the mirror over his washstand. <G d,I looked like the last survivor of Fort Nowhere . . . ca]ipi ri!I
slumped back on the cot, and had to be revived viA
brandy when he and Van Cortlandt arrived, full off; les" tions. I rallied gamely, and described in detail wthi I'd told Lal and Tej to do; Van Cortlandt, whom I'd hee? ^ as a former mercenary with Runjeet Singh, and a knM ^ bird, just nodded grimly, while Nicolson slapp^ "B forehead.
"Was ever such a pair of villains! Sellin' thei^ )WB comrades, the dastards! My stars, it passes belief!"
"No, it don't," says Van Cortlandt. "It fits exacti1 our information that the durbar wants the I*
destroyed - and with what I know of Lal Singh." W
me, frowning. "When did you learn they were re?1 sell out? Did they approach you in Lahore?" 3^,
This was the moment for my tired boyish grin, "sin little gasp as I moved my leg. I could have told '^ whole horrid tale, and made their hair stand on enc
that ain't the way to do it, you see. Offhand and 1.
. .up ticket, and let their imaginations do the rest. I ^ my head, weary-like.
"No sir, I approached them .. . just a few hours ago,
their camp over there. I'd had word, two nights ago in ^aliore, that they were ready to turn traitor "
"Who told you?" demands Van Cortlandt.
"Perhaps I'd better not say, sir ... just yet." I was shot
f i was giving Gardner credit, when I'd done all the
bloody work. "I reckoned I'd better get to Lal, and see
what he was up to. But I had a spot o' trouble, getting
clear of Lahore . .. fact is, if old Goolab Singh hadn't
popped up in a tight corner -" p-sy ' "Goolab Singh!" cries he incredulously. ' ~
"Why, yes - we had to cut our way out, you see, but he
ain't as spry as he was .. . and I was rearguard, so to
speak, and ... well, the Khalsa's bulldogs laid hold of
me-
"You said somethin' about a dungeon!" cries Nicolson.
"Did I? Oh, aye ..." I brushed it aside, and then bit
my Up, shifting my foot. "No, no, don't fuss, Peter ... I
doubt if it's broken ... just held me up a bit ... ah!" I clenched my teeth, recovered, and spoke urgently to Van
_onlandt. "But, see here, sir ... what happened in -ahore don't matter - or how I got to Lal! It's what he "id Tej are doing now, don't you see? Sir Hugh Gough rust be warned. .."
"He will be, never fear!" says Van Cortlandt, looking
["" and noble. "Flashman .. ." He hesitated, nodded,
j gave m a quick clap on the shoulder. "You lie down, }"^ feller. Nicolson, we must see Littler as soon as he
Have two gallopers ready - this is one message
a""8111'1 miscarry! Let's see that map ... if Cough's
Fe^""^ Maulah, and the Sikhs have reached
^who T' they should meet about Moodkee ... in a
Flashm ^e^ . touch wood! In the meantime, young
^e faa we'11 have that leg seen t00 S006 ^rd, he's
229
There was a pause. "Fellows often do, when they'y had a bad time," says Nicolson anxiously. "God knote what he's been through. I say, d'you think the swine
tortured him? I mean, he didn't say so, but -" J
"He's not the kind who would, from all I've heani"
says Van Cortlandt. "Sale told me that after the Piper's
Fort business they couldn't get a word out of him .
about himself, I mean. Only about ... his men. Heavens
... he's just a boy!" i
"Broadfoot says he's the bravest man he's ever mit,"
says Nicolson reverently.
"There you are, then. Come on, let's find Littler."
You see what I mean? It would be all over camp within the hour, and the Army soon after. Good old Flashy's
done it again - and this time, if I says it myself, didn't I
deserve their golden opinions, even if I had been passing
wind the whole way? I felt quite virtuous, and put on a
game show, trying to struggle to my feet and having to be
restrained, when they returned presently with Littler, a
wiry old piece of teak who looked as though he'd swallowed
the poker. He was very trim in spotless overalls,
chin thrust out and hands behind his back as he ran a brisk
eye over me. More compliments, thinks I - until he spoke,
in a cold, level voice.
"Let me understand this. You say that twenty thousand
Sikh cavalry are moving to attack the Commander-in- Chief . . . and this is at your prompting? I see." He took a
deliberate breath through his thin nose, and I've seen
kinder eyes on a cobra. "You, a junior political officer,
took it upon yourself to direct the course of the war. You
did not think fit, although you knew these two traitors
were bent on courting defeat, to send or bring word to the
nearest general officer - myself? So that their actioc5 might be directed by someone of less limited milit^ experience?" He paused, his mouth like a rat-trap |
"Well, sir?" . |
I don't know what I thought, only what I said, oncel |
230
covered from the shock of the icy son-ofabitch's
areas. It was so unexpected that I could only blurt out:
"There wasn't time, sir! Lal Singh was desperate - if I
hadn't told him something, God knows what he'd have
done!" Nicolson was standing mum; Van Cortlandt was
frowning. "I . I acted as I thought best, sir!" I could have burst into tears.
"Quite so." It sounded like a left and right with a
sabre. "And from your vast political experience, you are
confident that the Wazir's .. . desperation .. . was
genuine - and that he has indeed acted on your ingenious
instructions? He could not have been deceiving you, of
course ... and perhaps making quite other dispositions of
his army?"
"With respect, sir," put in Van Cortlandt, "I'm quite
sure-"
"Thank you. Colonel Van Cortlandt. I recognise your
concern for a fellow political officer. Your certainty,
however, is by the way. I am concerned with Mr
Flashman's." ..^ ^;'s? ^%
"Christ! Yes, I'm sure-"- x^ - --
"You will not blaspheme in my presence, sir." The
steely voice didn't rise even a fraction. Deliberately he
went on: "Well. We must hope that you are right. Must
we not? We must resign ourselves to the fact that the fate
of the Army rests on the strategic acumen of one selfsufficient
subaltern. Distinguished in his way, no doubt."
He gave me one last withering glance. "Unfortunately, Aat distinction has not been gained in command of any
formation larger than a troop of cavalry."
_ I lost my head, and my temper with it. I can't explain it, 'w I'm the last man to defy authority - it may have been
e veering voice and supercilious eye, or the contrast ^th the decency of Van Cortlandt and Nicolson, or all the ea! and pain and weariness of weeks boiling up, or the
sheer injustice, when for once I'd done my best and my utv (not that I'd had any choice, I grant you) and this was
231 h':;
the thanks I got! Well, it was the wrong side of enough
and I heaved half off the bed, almost weeping with rage
and indignation.
"Damnation!" I bawled. "Very well - sir} What should
I have done, then? It ain't too late, you know! Tell me
what you'd have done, and I'll ride back to Lal Singh this
very minute! He's still cowering in bed, I'll be bound, not j
two bloody miles away! He'll be glad to change his orders, i
if he knows they come from you - sir!" |
; I knew, even in my childish fury, that there wasn't a I
chance he'd take me at my word, or I'd have confined
myself to cussing, you may be sure. Nicolson had me by j the arm, begging me to be calm, and Van Cortlandt was I muttering excuses on my behalf. ^
Littler didn't turn a hair. He waited until Nicolson h
settled me. Then:
"I doubt if that would be prudent," says he quietly.' "No. We can only wait upon events. Whether our mess1
engers find Sir Hugh or not, he will still face the battle |
which you, Mr Flashman, have made inevitable." He
moved forward to look at me, and his face was like flint.
"If all goes well, he and his army will, very properly,
receive the credit. If, on the other hand, he is defeated,
then you, sir" - he inclined his head towards me - "will
bear the blame alone. You will certainly be broken, prob'
ably imprisoned, possibly even shot." He paused. "D
not misunderstand me, Mr Flashman. The questions I
have asked you are only those that will be put to you by
the prosecution at your court-martial - a proceeding at which, let me assure you, I shall be the first witness os your behalf, to testify that, in my judgment, you have done your duty with exemplary courage and resource, a^ in the highest traditions of the service."
ft.
s^
Unusual chap, Littler, and not only
because he came from Cheshire, which not many people
do, in my experience. I can't recall a man who so scared
the innards out of me, and yet was so reassuring, all in one
go. For he was right, you know. I had done the proper
thing, and done it well - and much good it'd do me,
whatever befell. If Gough was wiped up, they'd need a
scapegoat, and who so handy as one of those cocky politicals
whom the rest of the Army detested? Contrariwise, if
the Khalsa was beat, the last thing John Bull would want
to hear was that it had been managed by a dirty deal with
two treacherous Sikh generals - where's the glory to
Britannia's arms in that? So it would be kept quiet... as
it has been, to this very day.
You may wonder, then, how I found any reassurance in
Lituer's tirade. Well, the thought of having that acid little iceberg in my corner, if it came to a court-martial, was
decidedly comforting; I've prosecuted myself, and God be
thanked I never ran into a defence witness like him. And Sroadfoot would stand by me, and Van Cortlandt - and ^y Afghan reputation must tell in my favour. I got a whiff 01 ^at later in the day, when I was nursing my leg and chewing my nails on the verandah after tiffen, and heard ^tUer's three brigadiers talking behind the chick; Nicoln
must have been spreading the tale of my exploits, and ^y were full of it. 
bat'?11*8 are doin' what nashman told 'em? off ms own
l- I'll be damned! No end to the cheek o' these
Politicals."
., 233 ',:..
"Not to Flashman's, anyway. Ask any woman in
Simla."
"Oh? In the skirt line, is he? Odd, that . . . wife's a
regular stunner. Seen her. Blonde gel, blue eyes."
"She does sound a stunner, is she?" .||
"Tip-top, altogether." J "I say ... lady's name. Not in the mess."
"Haven't mentioned her name. Just that she's a stunner.
Money, too, I'm told."
"Scamps like Rashman always seem to get both.
Noticed that." r 9 "Popular chap, of course." ~
"Not with Cardigan. Kicked him out o' the
Cherrypickers."
"Somethin' in the lad's favour. What for?"
"Don't recall. Feller like that, might be anythin'."
"True. Well, God help him if Gough gets bowled out."
"God will, you'll see. They can't break the ma
saved Jallalabad." ^ "When did Cardigan do that?"
"Didn't. Rashman did. In '42. You were 'a
Tenasserim."
"Was I? Ah, yes, I recollect now. He held some fortor
other. Oh, they can't touch him, then."
"Dam' well think not. Public wouldn't stand for it."
"Not if his wife's a stunner."
All of which was heartening, though I didn't care'
hear Elspeth bandied about quite so freely. But itwassB" a long day, waiting in the baking heat of the Ferozep0'- lines, with the 62nd sweating in their red coats in
entrenchments, and the blue-jacketed sepoy gunners ly in the shade of their pieces, while only two miles awa^ sun twinkled on the arms of Tej Singh's mighty " Littler and his staff spent all day in the saddle, ridlng^ south-east to scan the hazy distance: Gougb somewhere
out yonder, marching to meet the gorrac that Lal Singh had dispatched against him j-J1 "
234
dispatched them. Suppose he hadn't - suppose he'd
(mored my pi8"'or bungled it? Suppose Littler's fear was
''ell-founded, and Lal had been humbugging me - but,
no that couldn't be, the fellow had been almost out of his
wits. He must be advancing to meet Gough ... but would
he mind what I'd said about detaching regiments along the
way, so as to even the odds? Suppose ... oh, suppose any
number of things! All I could do was wait, keeping out of
Littler's way, limping gamely around the mess, aware of
the eyes that glanced and looked away.
It was about four, and the sun was starting to dip, when
_we heard the first nimble to eastward, and Huthwaite, the
Hgunner colonel, stood stock-still on the verandah, mouth
Bpen, listening, and then cries: "Those are big fellows!
48s! Sikh, for certain!" .... ^
"How far?" asks someone. ^.^ r; ; sN"
"Can't tell - twenty miles at least, might be thirty ..."
"That's Moodkee, then!"
 "Quiet, can't you?" Huthwaite had his eyes closed.
Those are howitzers!31 That's Gough!"
 And it was, white fighting coat and all, with an
exhausted army at his heels, ill-fed, ill-watered, and in no
raid of order, out-gunned but not, thank God, outnumwed,
and going for his enemy in the only style he knew,
omi-at-a-gate and damn the consequences. We knew
nothing of that, at the time; we could only stand on the
^randah, with the moths clustering round the lamps,
^"Mg to the distant cannonade which went on hour
r hour, long after sunset, when we could even see the
HanT reflected on the distant night sky. Not until one of
^a^d light caval:l'y ^uts came back, choked with
hapne  excltement> did we have any notion of what was
Sikhw" m that astonishing action, the first in the great
^^ Midnight Moodkee.
or a ^'^ ^ tul on dress occasions, I have clasps
" g"01' of engagements, from "Cabul 42" to
" "^a" 96" - but not for that one, the battle I
- 235
started. I don't mind that; I wasn't there, praise the LonL
and it wasn't a famous victory for anyone, but I like (n
think I prevented it from being a catastrophe. Goueh'i
army, which a well-managed Khalsa should have
smothered by sheer weight, lived to fight another day
because I'd squared the odds for them - and because there
are no better horse soldiers in the world than the Light
Brigade.
Between them, Hardinge and Gough came damned
near to making a hash of it, one by his old-wife caution,
t'other by his Donnybrook recklessness. Thanks to
Hardinge, we were ill-prepared for war, with regiments
held back from the front, no proper supply stations on
their line of march (so that Broadfoot and his politicab
had to plunder the countryside to improvise them), not
even a Held hospital ready to move, and Paddy having to
drive ahead with his fighting force, forced-marching thirty
miles a day, and devil take the transport and auxiliaries
straggling behind him all the way to Umballa. Meanwhile
Hardinge had decided to stop being Governor-General
and become a soldier again - he went careering off to
Ludhiana and brought the garrison down to join the
march, so that when they reached Moodkee they bad
about twelve thousand men, pretty fagged out aftera
day's march - and there were Lal's gorracharra waiting
for them, ten thousand strong and a couple of thousaa"
infantry. .
Now it was Paddy's turn. The Sikhs had stationed tb^
foot and guns in jungle, and Gough, instead of waltffl^
them to come on, must fly at their throats in case
escaped him - that was all he knew. The artillery due"
away, kicking up a deuce of a dust - Hardinge's son
me later that it was like fighting in London fog, an ^
fact is that no two accounts of the battle agree, oec&


flank both sides, and broke them. The 3rd Lights were
riding in among the Sikh guns and infantry, but when
paddy launched a frontal infantry assault they ran into a great storm of grape, and it was touch and go for a while,
for when they reached the jungle the Sikh guns were still
doing great execution, and there was horrid scrimmaging
among the trees. It was dark by now, and fellows were
firing on their comrades, some of our sepoy regiments
were absolutely blazing into the air, everything was confusion
on both sides - and then the Sikhs withdrew, leaving
seventeen guns behind them. We lost over 200 dead
and three times as many wounded; the Sikhs' losses, I'm
told, were greater, but nobody knows.
You might call it a draw in our favour,32 but it settled a
few things. We'd taken the ground and the guns, so the
Khalsa could be beaten - at a cost, for they'd fought like
tigers among the trees, and took no prisoners. Our sepoys ^d lost some of their fear of the Sikhs, and our cavalry,
British and Indian, had seen the backs of the gorracharra. K Gough could follow up quickly enough, and dispose of
the rest of Lal's force which was concentrated on
Ferozeshah, twelve miles away, before Tej's host came to
_emforce it, we'd be in a fair way to settling the whole
ysmess. But if the Khalsa reunited . . . well, that would
e another story. * w^. ^Some of this was clear as early as next morning, but by
en I had other concerns. One of the gallopers whom 'tiler had sent with news of my arrangement with Lal and ^J. had reached Gough at the height of the battle; it had
foot" an astolushing "g^ wnh twenty thousand horse,
d n""!guns ^""S at each other in the starlight, and the
roadman himself raging because he couldn't take part
t^ally in the 3rd Lights' charge on the Sikh flank:
^^anuiable, so it is! Here's me, an' there's them, an' I
as well be in me bed! Away ye go, Mickey, an' give
To^^me-hurroo.boys!"
galloper had wisely decided that there'd be no talk237
ing sense to him for a while, and it wasn't until near
midnight, when the fighting was done, that the news had
been broken, to Gough and Hardinge, with Broadfootin
tow, as they left the field. The galloper said it was like a
strange dream: a huge golden moon shining on the
scrubby plain and jungle; the Sikh guns, with their dead
crews heaped around them; the mutilated corpses of our
Light Dragoons and Indian lancers marking the path of
their charge through the heart of the Khalsa position; the
great confused masses of men and horses and camels scattered,
dead and dying, on the plain; the wailing chorus of
the wounded, and the shouts of our people as they sought
their fellows among the fallen; the mound of bodies piled
up like a caim where Harry Smith had ridden ahead on his
Arab, Jim Crow, planted the Queen's Own's colour at the
head of a Khalsa column, and roared to our fellows to
come and get it - which they had; Gough and Hardinge
standing a little apart, talking quietly in the moonlight,
and Paddy finally giving the galloper his reply, and adding
the words which brought my heart into my mouth.
"My respects to Sir John Littler, an' tell him he'll be
hearin' from me presently - an' he'll oblige me by sendin'
that young Flashman to me as soon as he likes! I want' word with that one!"
* * *
It wasn't a hard word, though; indeed, the first thing 1" said, when I limped into his presence in the big mess-to1 at Moodkee, was: "What's amiss with your leg, boy?v ye down, an' Baxu'll get ye a glass of beer. Thirsty nW^ these days!" '^
First, though, I must be presented to Hardinge, WB was with him at dinner, a plain-faced, tight-inou ^ sobersides with the empty cuff of his missing ^."s
tucked into his coat. I disliked him on sight, and i1 mutual: he gave me a frosty nod, but Broadfoot was t
238
^4
th a great grin and a hearty handclasp. That was
Iconic, I can teu y01^ the thirty-mile ride from
Ferozepo're, skirting south in case of gorracharra scouts,
and with only six N.C. sowars for escort, had given me the
blue devils and done my game ankle no good at all, and on
reaching Moodkee I'd had a most horrid shock. We'd
come in at sunset from the south, and so saw nothing of the
battlefield, but they were burying the dead in scores, and
I'd chanced to glance aside through an open tent-fly, and
there, wrapped in a cloak, was the body of old Bob Sale.
It quite undid me. He'd been such a hearty, kind old
soul -1 could see him mopping the noble tears from his
red cheeks at my bedside in Jallalabad, or grinning from
his table-head at Florentia's wilder flights, or thumping his
knee: "There'll be no retreat from Lahore, what?" Now
they were blowing retreat over him, old Fighting Bob; the
grapeshot had got him when they stormed the jungle - the
Quartermaster-General charging with the infantry! Well,
thank God I wouldn't have to break the news to her.
But poor old Bob was soon forgotten in the presence of
the G.G. and the army chief, for now I must tell my tale
again, to that distinguished audience - Thackwell, the
cavalry boss, was there, and Hardinge's son Charlie, and
young Gough, Paddy's nephew, but only three faces counted:
Hardinge, cold and grave, his finger laid along his ^heek; Gough leaning forward, the brown, handsome old
_ace alight with interest, tugging his white moustache; and
roadfoot, all red whiskers and bottle glasses, watching
em to see how they took it, like a master while his prize qq y ^"strues. It sounded well, and I told it straight, with
~ k^'"10^81 tricks which I knew would be wasted here
escarp3 message' Goolab Singh, Maka Khan, gridiron, Geor "B"1111'18 intervention (I daren't omit him, with
done th re)> my noting with Lal and Tej. When I'd
avino ^re was a "^"ce, into which George stepped,
"u wn the law.
ay I ^y at once, excellency, that I support all Mr
239
Flashman's actions unreservedly. They are precisely sur), as I should have wished him to take."
"Hear, hear," says Gough, and tapped the table
"Good lad."
Hardinge didn't care for it. I guessed that, like Littler
he thought I'd taken a heap too much on myself, but
unlike Littler he wasn't prepared to admit that I'd been right.
"Fortunately, no harm appears to have been done,"
says he coldly. "However, the less said of this the better,! think. You will agree. Major Broadfoot, that any publication
of the Sikhs' treachery might have the gravest consequences."
Without waiting for George's reply, he went
on, to me: "And I would not wish your ordeal at the
hands of the enemy to be noised abroad. It was a dreadful
thing" - he might have been discussing the weather "and
I congratulate you on your deliverance, but if it were
to become known it must have an inflammatory effect,
and that could serve no good end." Never mind the
inflammatory effect it had had on my end; even in the
middle of a war he was fretting about our harmonious
relations with the Punjab when it was all over, anil
Flashy's scorched arse mustn't be allowed to mar the prospect.
I hadn't liked Henry Hardinge before, but now( loathed him. So I agreed at once, like a good little toadyj
and Gough, who'd been fidgeting impatiently, got a word
in: .)
"Tell me this, my boy - an' if you're proved wrong'
not hold it against ye. This Tej Singh, now . V6,wo the man. Can we rely on him to do his worst, by n^ j side?" 1
"Yes, sir," says I. "I believe so. He'd sit in tron^ Ferozepore forever. But his officers may force hi5 for him." ^iid
"I think, Sir Hugh," drawls Hardinge, "that it^ ^ be wiser to weigh the facts we know, rather "I Flashman's opinion."
240
Goueh frowned at the tone, but nodded. "No doubt,
irr Hinry. But whatever, it must be Ferozeshah. And as
on as maybe."
I was dismissed after that, but not before Gough had listed on drinking my health - Hardinge barely lifted his
glass &om the table. The hell with him, I was too fagged to
re, and ready to sleep for a year, but did I get the Stance? I'd barely pulled my boots off, and was soaking
my extremity in cold water, when my tent was invaded by
Broadfoot, bearing a bottle and full of bounce and congratulations,
which included himself for being so dam' ^^ver in sending me to Lahore in the first place. I said Hardinge didn't seem to think so, and he snorted and said
Hardinge was an ass, and a puffed-up snob who had no
use for politicals - but never mind that, I must tell him all
Eit Lahore, every word, and down he plumped on my my,* spectacles a-gleam, to hear it.
ell, you know it all, and by midnight, so did he - bar
the jolly parts with Jeendan and Mangia, which I had too
ich delicacy to mention. I made much of my friendship
h little Dalip, spoke in admiring terms of Gardner, and
t in a word for Jassa - d'you know, he'd been aware of >t remarkable rascal's identity all along, but had kept it "" me on principle. When I'd finished, he rubbed his
i with satisfaction.
1 this will be of the greatest value. What matters, of
> is that you have gained the confidence of the
Maharaja ... and his mother ..." He glanced yat me' and I met his eye with boyish innocence, at
ewent pink, and polished his glasses. "Yes, and
 y1. also. Those three will be the vital figures, "this is over. Yes ..." He went off into one of his ^ncesfor a moment, and then roused himself.
~I m going to ask you to do a hard thing. You
-", but it must be done. D'ye see?"
241
, ' I
Oh, Jesus, thinks I, what now? He wants me to go ^1
Burma, or dye my hair green, or kidnap the King q(i
Afghanistan - well, the blazes with it! I've run my nujg J
and be damned to him. So, of course, I asked him eagerly
what it might be, and he glanced at my injured ankfe
which I'd laid, still pink and puffy, on a wet towel. |
"Still painful, I see. But it didn't stop ye riding thirtj
miles today - and if there's a cavalry charge against
the Khalsa tomorrow, you'll be in it if it kills you, won'fl
you?"^i . |
"I should dam' well hope so!" cries I, with my heart ial
my boots at the mere thought, and he shook his head in,
stem admiration. -j
"I knew it! No sooner out o' the frying pan than you'rej
itching to be at the fire. Ye were just the same on tins
Kabul retreat." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Well
I'm sorry, my boy - it's not to be. Tomorrow, I don't wm
you to be able to walk a step, let alone back a horse - d'y
follow?" ', '^;, H
I didn't - but I smelled something damned fishy.
"It's this way," says he earnestly. "Last night w|
fought the. sternest action I ever saw. These Sikhs are thtj
starkest, bravest fellows on earth - worth two Ghazis,;
every man of 'em. I killed four myself," says he solemnlyl
"and I tell ye. Flashy, they died hard! They did that." Hi
^paused, frowning. "Have you ever noticed . . . how soft I
man's head is?33 Aye, well . . . what we did last aigw
we'll be doing again presently. Gough must destroy Lall
half of the Khalsa at Ferozeshah - and unless I'm ini^
taken it'll be the bloodiest day that ever was seen *
India." He wagged a finger. "It may well decide N
war -" I
"Yes, yes!" cries I, all eagerness, feeling ready to pi1*6*
"But what's all this gammon about me not being able "j
walk-?",^, J
"At all costs," says he impressively, "you must be k^
out of the fighting. One reason is that the credit an^'"
you've achieved with the folk who'll be ruling the wlen i, ynder our thumb next year - is far too valuable to ^sked. I won't allow it. So, when Gough asks for you
oalloper tomorrow - which I know he will - well, he as 't have you. But I don't choose to tell him why, 2 use he has no more political sense than the minister's
pat and wouldn't understand. So we must hoodwink him,
and the rest of the Army, and your game leg will serve our
turn." He laid a hand on my shoulder, owling at me. "It's
not a nice thing, but it's for the good o' the service. I know
it's asking a deal, from you of all men, that you stand back
when the rest of us fall in, but .. . what d'ye say, old
fellow?"
You can picture my emotion. That's the beauty of a
heroic reputation - but you must know how to live up to
it. I assumed the right expression of pained, bewildered
indignation, and put a catch into my voice.
"George!" says I, as though he'd struck the Queen.
"You're asking me ... to shirk} Oh, yes, you are, though!
Well, it won't do! See here, I've done your job in Laho/e,
and all - don't I deserve the chance to be a soldier again?
Besides," cries I, in a fine passion, "I owe those bastards
_omething! And you expect me to hang back?"
wm
He looked manly compassionate. "I said it was a hard
ing." ^ f- . - .'. g
"Hard? Dammit, it's ;. . it's the wrong side of enough!
^No, George, I won't have it! What, to sham sick - humg
dear old Paddy? Of all the cowardly notions!" I
Paused, red in the face, fearful of coming it too strong in case he relented. I changed tack. "Why am I so conunded
precious, anyway? When the war's over, it'll be a" one who plays politics in Lahore "
^ 1 said that was one reason," he cut in. "There's
mav l" ^ neec* y011 ^ac^ m Lahore now} Or as soon as
Dear a ^lue lt)s au m the balance, I must have someone
des- seat of power - and you're the man. It's the part I s^d for you from the first, remember? But your
243
return must be a s-ecret known only to you, me, and
Hardinge .. . well, af you sham sick no one will wonder
why you're being kept out of harm's way in the mean. time." He grinned complacently. "Oh, I ken I'm a
devious crater! I need taste be. So you'll go on a crutch the
morn - and let your beard grow. When you go north again
it'll be as Badoo the Badmash - well, ye can hardly ask
admission to Lahore Fort as Mr Flashman, can ye?"
Fortunately, perhaps, I was speechless. I just stared at
the red-whiskered brute - and he took silence for consent,
when in truth it didn't even signify comprehension. The
whole thing was too monstrous for words, and while I sat
open-mouthed he laughed and clapped me on the back.
"That puts things in a different light, does it not? YouTI
be shirking your way into the lion's den, you see - so you
needn't envy the rest of us our wee fight at Ferozeshah!"
He stood up. "I'll speak to Hardinge now, and in a day or
two I'll give you full particulars of what you'll be doing
when you get to Lahore. Until then - take care of that
ankle, eh? Sleep well, Badoo!" He winked heavily, pulling
back the tent-fly, and paused. "Here, I say, Hany
Smith told me a good one today! Why is a soldier of the
Khalsa like a beggar? Can you tell, eh? Give it up?"
"I give up, George." And, by God, I meant it.
"Because he's a Sikh in arms!" cries he. "You twig?"' seekin' amis!" He guffawed. "Not bad, what? Goodnight,
old chap!"
And he went off chortling. "A Sikh in arms! ^' were the last words I ever heard him speak.
You'll have difficulty finding Ferozeshah
(or Pheeroo Shah, as we Punjabi purists call it) in the atlas
nowadays. It's a scrubby little hamlet about halfway
between Ferozepore and Moodkee, but in its way it's a
greater place than Delhi or Calcutta or Bombay, for it's
where the fate of India was settled - appropriately by
treachery, folly, and idiot courage beyond belief. And
most of all, by blind luck.
It was where Lal Singh, on my advice, had left half his
jrce when he marched to meet Gough, and it was where
us battered advance guard retired after Moodkee. So
hpre he was now, twenty thousand strong with a hundred
endid guns, all nicely entrenched and snug as bugs.
And Gough must attack him at once, for who could tell
'"hen Tej Singh, loafing before Ferozepore a mere dozen
"ules away, would be forced by his colonels to do the
^nsible thing and join Lal, thereby facing Paddy with a
___n. 1
^Irce
^us b
alsa of over fifty thousand, outnumbering us more than
^eetoone?
rfit was bundle and go at Moodkee next day, with the
deol tte dead being shovelled under, the Native Infantry
the U^8 for a night march' the 29th marching in from
ings ^balla track' their red coais as yellow as their fac"hq
m
"the rolling dust, and the band thumping out
billed ""^r", the elephant teams squealing as they
Rws T ^ ^eavv pieces, camels braying in the lines,
nun^f0111111^ an(^ ^^"g papers in every tent opening,
/es i" carts rolling through' and Gough in his shirtan
open-air table with his staff scampering
245
^

should be bTo^hralongto'FerozeshahTnyway, to deal ^^^^^ TneTunTth^8"' """T man'
^--^heS^h^wr^s
"Besides, if I know the boy he'll be in at the death before
all's done." Live in hope, old Paddy, thinks I; I'd expected
to be left behind at Moodkee with the wounded, but a1 least I'd be well out of the way at advance headquarter
^J^tcher.
round him. And the discerning eye would also have noted
a stalwart figure propped up on a charpoy with his leg swathed to the knee in an enormous bandage, cursing the
luck which kept him out of the fun.
"I say, Cust," cries Abbott, "have you seen? Flashy's
got the gout! Has to have beef tea and sal volatile, and kameela drenches twice a day!"
"Comes of boozin' with maharanis at Lahore, I dare
say," says Cust, "while the rest of us poor politicals have
to work for a living."
"When did politicals ever work?" says Hore. "You
stay where you are, Flashy, and keep out of the sun, mind!
If the goin' gets sticky we'll haul you up to wave your
crutch at the Sikhs!"
"Wait till I'm walking and I'll wave more than a
crutch!" cries I. "You fellows think you're clever - I'll be
ahead of you all yet, you'll see!" At which they all made
game of me, and said they'd leave a few Sikh wounded for
me to cut up. Cheery stuff, you see. Broadfoot himself had pronounced me hors de combat, and I got a deal of
sympathy among all the chaff, but Gough insisted that I
-- - . -.-, AaQ}
while the rest of them got on with the serious work.
Broadfoot and his Afghans were out all day, scoutinj the Sikh position, so I never saw him. I went hot ^^j
by turns when I thought of the awful prospect "e ""unfolded to me the previous night - sneaking ^atf Lahore in disguise, no doubt to carry treasonable ^1 ages to Jeendan, and keep an eye on her and her cott'^ snakes . . . how the devil was it to be done, and why- sufficient unto the day; I'd find out soon enough.
We marched, after a broiling day of confused preparation
in the freezing small hours, the army in column of
route and your humble obedient borne in a dooli* by
ninions, which caused much hilarity among the staff-wallopers,
who kept stopping by to ask if I needed any gruel or
a stone pig to warm my toes. I responded with bluff
repartee - and noticed that as the march progressed the
comedians fell silent; we came within earshot of the Sikh
drums soon after dawn, and by nine were deploying within
sight of Ferozeshah. I bade my doofi-bearers set me down
in a little grove not far from the headquarters group, to be
out of the heat - with interesting results, as you'll see. For
while most of what I tell you of that momentous day is
hearsay, one vital incident was played out under my nose
alone. This is what happened.
The scouts had reported that the place was heavily
entrenched on all sides, in a rough mile square about the
village, with the Sikhs' heavy guns among the mounds and
ditches that enclosed it. On three sides there were jungly
patches which would hinder our attack, but on the eastern
_de facing us it was flat maidan, and Gough, honest man,

 i - o---- ------it
in, trusting to the bayonets of his twelve thousand to do the trick against twenty thousand Khalsa. During
the night Littler had slipped out of Ferozepore with ""lost his whole seven thousand, leaving Tej guarding an
-"ai ms wnole seven thousand, leaving Tej guarding an ^Pty town; Paddy's notion may have been to drive the lKhs out of Ferozeshah and into Littler's path, but I ain't
^1 au ^ents, I was reclining in my dooli in the shade,
oversslng beef and har(kack and coughing contentedly
a^o"^ ^eroot, admiring the view of our army deployed My front and feeling patriotic, when there was a potion fifty yards off, where the HQ staff were at
~ Hardinge trying to hog the marmalade again,

246
247

thinks I, but when I peeped out, here was the man himself
striding towards my grove, looking stem, and five yank behind. Paddy Gough with his white coat flapping and
bright murder in his eye. Hardinge stops just inside the grove and says: "Well, Sir Hugh?"
"Well, indeed. Son- Hinry!" cries Paddy, Irish wife fury. "I'll tell ye again - you're lookin' at the foinet
victory that ever was won in India, bigad, an' "
"And I tell you. Sir Hugh, it is not to be thought of!
Why, you are outnumbered two to one in men, and evec
more in cannon - and they are in cover, sir!"
"And (don't I know that, then? I tell ye still, I'll pat
Ferozeshah in your hand by noon! Dear man, our infantoy
aren't Portuguese!"
That was a dig at Hardinge, who'd served with the
Portugoosers in the Peninsula. His tone was freezing as he
replied: "I cannot entertain it. You must wait for Li '
to come up."
"An' if I wait that long, sure'n the rabbits'll be run through Ferozeshah! Tis the shortest day o' the y ^_
man! And will ye tell me, plain now - who commands this
army?"
"You do!" snaps Hardinge.
"And did ye not offer me your services, as a soldier,
whutsoiv^ver capacity, now? Ye did! And I acceptf
gratefully! But it seems ye won't take my orders "
"In the field, sir, I shall obey you implicitly! Bul
Governor-General I shall, if necessary, exert my c authority over the Commander-in-Chief. And I will
hazard the army in such a risk as this! Oh, my d^,
Hugh," he went on, trying to smooth things, but P3 wasn't at home.
"In short. Son- Hinry, ye're questionin' my wa judgment!" )
"As to that, Sir Hugh, I have been a soldier as iob you "
"I know it! I know also ye haven't smelt powder
u terloo an' all the staff college lectures in creation
lon't make a battlefield general! So, now!"
Hardinge was a staff college man; Paddy, you may
uspect, was not.
"This is unseemly, sir!" says Hardinge. "Our opinions
liffer. As Governor-General, I positively forbid an attack
aril you are supported by Sir John Littler. That is my last
word, sir."
I "And this is mine, son- - but I'll be havin' another one
later!" cries Paddy. "If we come adrift through this, with
B>ur fellows shootin' each other in the dark, as they did at
Moodkee - well, sorr, I won't hold myself responsible
unless I am!" S^ :
"Thank you. Sir Hugh!" feM&lM ff:
"Thank you, Sorr Hinry!" ^ And off they stumped, after a conference unique, I
lelieve, in military history.34 As to which was right, God .nows. On the one hand, Hardinge had to think of all
India, and the odds scared him. Against that, Paddy was
the fighting soldier - daft as a brush, granted, but he knew ""ien and ground and the smell of victory or defeat. Heads
t tails, if you ask me.
So Hardinge had his way, and the army set off again,
outh-west, to meet Littler, crossing the Sikh front with
I" flank wide as a barn door if they'd care to come out
F" tall on us. They didn't, thanks to Lal Singh, who
seriT1 to ^^ while his staff tore their hair at the mischance.
Littler have in view at Shukoor, and our force
L^ north ^'n. now eighteen thousand strong, and
jyPerozeshah.
Li""'1 see Ae battle, since I was installed in a hut at
|lerks wa-aa' more than a mile away, surrounded by
lutche'k1^""0" and ^PP"^ yS while I waited for the
lifaead5 k11' so 1 shan't elaborate the bare facts - you ^B the full horror in the official accounts if you're
jnouiA f "^rd it, though, and saw the results; that was
< 249
was shockingly botched, on both sides. Gough had to
rh his force in frontal assault on the south and west
r^enchments, which were the strongest, just as the sun r westering. Our fellows were caught in a hail of grape
nd musketry, with mines going off under them, but they tnnned in with the bayonet, and drove the Sikhs from ,eir camp and the village beyond. Just on dusk, the
ikhs' magazine exploded, and soon there were fires
[verywhere, and it was slaughter all the way, but there
ras such confusion in the dark, with regiments going
stray, and Harry Smith, as usual, miles ahead of the rest,
hat Gough decided to re-form - and the retire >was
ounded. Our fellows, with Ferozeshah in their hands, ame out again - and the Sikhs walked back in, resuming
he entrenchments we'd taken at such fearful cost. And
hey wonder why folk go to sea. So we were back where
re began, in the freezing night, with the Khalsa sharphooters
hammering our bivouacs and wells. Oh, aye, and
-umley, the Adjutant-General, went off his rocker and
an about telling everyone we must retire on Ferozepore. .uckily no one minded him.
My memories of that night are a mixture of confused
res: Ferozeshah, two miles away, like a vision of hell, ^a of flames under red clouds with explosions 'erywhere; men lurching out of the dark, carrying
'ounded comrades; the long dark mass of our bivouacs on e "Psn ground, and the unceasing screams and groans of le bunded all night long; bloody hands thrusting bloody lpers ^fore me under the storm-lantem - Littler had
85 men in only ten minutes, I remember; the crash of
r artillery at the Sikh sharpshooters; Hardinge, his hat
<inthT his coat bloody' calling: "Charles, where are the
i lad " must visit au my old Peninsulars! See if they have
rouse in barracks' what?";35 a corporal of the 62nd, his ^ rs soaked in blood, sitting at my hut door with his ^.pen' ^refully stitching a tear in the white cover of
' ule ^dden blare of bugles and rattle of drums
251
sounding the alarm as a regiment was mustered to make
sortie against a Sikh gun emplacement; a Light Dragoon* face black with powder, and a skinny little bhisti,* bucked in their hands, and the Dragoon crying who'd make a dash with them for the well, 'cos Bill must have water and the chaggles^ were dry; the little German prince who'd played
billiards while I romped Mrs Madison, putting in his head
to ask ever so politely if Dr Hoffmeister, of whom rd
never heard, was on my lists - he wasn't, but he was dead, anyway; and a hoarse voice singing softly in the dark: Wrap
me up in my tarpaulin jacket, jacket, a An'say a poor buffer lies low, lies low, -- a
,, An' six stalwart lancers shall carry me, carry me, I
With steps that are mournful an' slow.
Then send for six brandies an' soda, soda,
.a^
An' set 'em up all in a row, a row ... 9
I hobbled across to headquarters on my unnecessaly
crutch, to sniff the wind. It was a big bare basha,^ witk
fellows curled up asleep on the earth, and at the far end
Gough and Hardinge with a map across their knees, and
an aide holding a light. By the door Baxu the butler ami
young Charlie Hardinge were packing a valise; I a^" what was to do.
"Off to Moodkee," says Charlie. "Currie mustbc ready to bum his papers."
"What - is it all up, then?"
"Touch an' go, anyway. I say. Flashy, have you se the cabbage-walloper - Prince Waldemar? I've to tap him out of it, confound him! Blasted civilians,'^ ^ Charlie, who was one himself, secretarying Pap3' . ,
to think war's a sightseein' tour!" Baxu handed a"" dress sword, and Charlie chuckled. T^
*Water-carrier.
fCanvas water-bags.
^Native house.
252
1
.1 say - mustn't forget that, Baxu!"
'May sahib! Wellesley sahib would be
jam-displeased!"
Chariie tucked it under his coat. "Wouldn't mind
havin'its owner walk in this minute, though." --Who's that, then?" I asked.
^'Boney. Wellington gave it to the guv'nor after Waterloo.
Can't let the Khalsa get hold of Napoleon's sidearm,
can we?"
I didn't care for this - when the swells start sending
their valuables down the road. God help the rest of us. I
asked Abbott, who was smoking by the door, with his arm
in a bloody sling, what was afoot.
"We're goin' in again at dawn. Nothin' else for it, with
only half a day's fodder for us an' the guns. It's
Ferozeshah - or six feet under. Some asses were talkin'
about terms, or cuttin' out for Ferozepore, but the G.G.
an' Paddy gave 'em the rightabout." He lowered his
voice. "Mind you, I don't know if we can stand another
gniellin' like today . .. how's the pension parade?"
He meant our casualties. "At a guess . . . maybe one in
ten." p^, '
"Could be worse ... but there ain't a whole man on the/
^wf," says he. "Oh, I say, did you hear? - Georgie
Broadfoot's dead."
1 didn't take it in at all. I heard the words, but they
eant nothing at first, and I just stood staring at him while
*?( on: "I'm sorry ... he was a chum o' yours, wasn't was ^th him, you see ... the damnedest thing! I'd
goog Mt, " he touched his sling ". . . an' thought I was
Sandv'r0 old ^"'S1 rides "P' shouting: 'Get up,
then p 'l 8to sleep, you know!' So up I jumped, an'
but he001'816 ^bled out of his saddle, shot in the leg, ^PPPed straight up again, an' says to me: "There
> th' ^ou seel ^ome on!' I1 was fairly rainin' grape
n a south ^^OGoment, an' a second later, he went "^n. So I yeUed: 'Come on, George! Sleepyhead
'- 253
yourself!'" He fumbled inside his shirt. "And ... so he
now, for keeps, the dear old chap. You want these? Here
take'em."
They were George's spectacles, with one lens broken i
took them, not believing it. Seeing Sale dead had been
bad enough - but Broadfoot! The great red giant, always
busy, always scheming - nothing could kill him, surely?
No, he'd walk in presently, damning someone's eyesmine,
like enough. For no reason I took a look through
the remaining glass, and couldn't see a thing; he must
have been blind as a bat without them . .. and then it
dawned on me that if he was dead, there'd be no one to
send me to Lahore again - and no need! Whatever ploy
he'd had in mind would have died with him, for even Hardinge wouldn't know the ins and outs of it ... So I
was clear, and relief was flooding through me, making me
tremble, and I choked between tears and laughter - . ^ "Here, don't take on!" cries Abbott, catching my
wrist. "Never fret. Flashy - George'11 be paid for, you'll
see! Why, if he ain't, he'll haunt us, the old ruffian, giglamps
an' all! We're bound to take Ferozeshah!"
And they did, a second time. They went in, Briton and
sepoy, in ragged red lines under the lifting mist of dawn,
with the horse guns thundering ahead of them and the
Khalsa trenches bright with flame. The Sikh gunners fairi?
battered the advancing regiments and picked off offl
ammunition wagons, so that our ranks seemed to be moving through pillars of fiery cloud, with the white trails of
our Congreves piercing the black smoke. It's the last W ness, thinks I, watching awestruck from the rear, or they'd no right to be on their feet, even, let alone marching
into that tempest of metal, exhausted, half-starve"' frozen stiff, and barely a swallow of water among tho"' with Hardinge riding ahead, his empty sleeve tucked if
his belt, telling his aides he'd seen nothing like it since Vs Peninsula, and Gough leading the right, spreading r tails of his white coat to be the better seen. Then they"8
I--
dished into the smoke, the scarecrow lines and the tat-
red standards and the twinkling cavalry sabres - and I
thanked God I was here and not there as I led the rocketprs
in three cheers for our gallant comrades, before being borne back into the shade to a well-earned breakfast of
bread and brandy.
Being new to the business, I half-expected to see 'em
back shortly, in bloody rout - but beyond our view they
were storming the defences again, and going through
Ferozeshah like an iron fist, and by noon there wasn't a
live Punjabi in the position, and we'd taken seventy guns.
Don't ask me how - they say some of the Khalsa infantry
cut stick in the night, and the rest were all at sea because
Lal Singh and his cronies had fled, with the Akalis howling
for his blood - but that don't explain it, not to me. They
still weren't outnumbered, and had the defensive advantage,
and fought their guns to the finish - so how did we
beat 'em? I don't know, I wasn't there - but then, I still
don't understand the Alma and Balaclava and Cawnpore,
and I was in the thick of them. God help me, and no fault
of mine.
I ain't one of your by jingoes, and I won't swear that the
British soldier is braver than any other - or even, as
Charley Gordon said, that he's brave for a little while
longer. But I will swear that there's no soldier on earth
who believes so strongly in the courage of the men alongside
him - and that's worth an extra division any day.
Provided you're not standing alongside me, that is.
All morning the wounded kept coming back, but fewer
by far than yesterday, and now they were jubilant. Twice pey'd beaten the Khalsa against the odds, and there Wouldn't be a third Ferozeshah, not with Lal's forces in
I""1 ^or the Sutlej, and our cavalry scouting their retreat.
ITik hai, Johnnie!" roars a sergeant of the 29th, limping
own with a naik of Native Infantry; they had two sound jegs between them, and used their muskets as crutches. 0 s got a tot o' rum for my Johnnie, then? 'E may 'ave
Ife. 255
fired wide at Moodkee, but you earned yer chapatt.. today, didn't yer, ye little black bugger!" And everyone
roared and cheered and helped them along, the to.
headed, red-faced ruffian and the sleek brown Bengali
both of them grinning with the same wild light in their
eyes. That's victory - it was in all their eyes, even those of
a pale young cornet of the 3rd Lights with his arm off at
the elbow, raving as they carried him past at the run, and
of a private with a tulwar gash in his cheek, spitting blood
at every word as he told me how Gough was entrenched in
the Sikhs' position in case of counter-attack, but there was
no fear of that.
"We done for 'em, sir!" cries he, and his yellow facings
were as red as his coat with his own gore. "They won't
stop runnin' till they gets to La'ore, I reckon! You should WsV 'ear 'em cheer ole Daddy Gough - ain't 'e the boy, !1 though?" He peered at me, holding a grimy cloth to his
wound. '"Ere, you orl right, sir? Fair done in you looks, if
you'll 'scuse my sayin' so ..."
It was true -1, who hadn't been near the fight, and had
been right as rain, was all at once ready to keel over where
I sat. And it wasn't the heat, or the excitement, or the
sight of his teeth showing through his cheek (other folks'
blood don't bother me), or the screaming from the^ hospital basha, or the stench of stale blood and acrid
smoke from the battle, or the dull ache in my ankle - none
of that. I believe it was the knowledge that at last it was aB
over, and I could give way to the numbing fatigue that had
been growing through one of the worst weeks of my life- I'd had one night's sleep out of eight, counting from the
first which I'd spend galloping Mangia; then there'd been
my Khalsa frolic, the Sutlej crossing, the ride from La* and Tej to Ferozepore, the vigil as we listened to distant
Moodkee, uneasy slumber after Broadfoot had given me his bad news, the freezing march to Misreewallah, all- finally, the first night of Ferozeshah. Oh, I was luckier than many, but I was beat all to nothing - and now itvas
256
. ^d I was safe, and could lurch from my stool and P^ face-down on the charpoy, dead to the world.
Now, when I'm dog-tired with shock, I have nightmares
nrthy of cheese and lobster, but this one laid it over
them all, for I fell slowly through the charpoy, into a bath
nfwann water, and when I rolled over I was staring up at
a ceiling painting of Gough and Hardinge and Broadfoot,
all figged out "^e ^eTslaa princes, having dinner with Mrs
Madison, who tilted her glass and poured oil all over me,
which made me so slippery that I couldn't hope to transfer
the whole Soochet legacy, coin by coin, from my navel to
Queen Ranavalona's as she pinned me down on a red-hot
billiard-table. Then she began to pummel and shake me,
and I knew she was trying to make me get up because
Gough wanted me, and when I said I couldn't, because of
my ankle, the late lamented Dr Arnold, wearing a great
tartan puggaree, came by on an elephant, crying that he
would take me, for the Chief needed a Greek translation
of Crotchet Castle instanter, and if I didn't take it to Tej
Singh, Elspeth would commit suttee. Then I was following
him, floating across a great dusty plain, and the smell of
burning was everywhere, and filthy ash was falling like
snow, and there were terrible bearded faces of dead men,
smeared with blood, and corpses all about us, with ghastly
wounds from which their entrails spilled out on earth that
was sodden crimson, and there were great cannon lying on
their sides or tumbled into pits, and everywhere the charred
wreckage of tents and carts and huts, some of them 'till in flames.
There was a mighty tumult, too, a great cannonading, ^d the shriek and crash of shot striking home, the rattle of musketry, and bugles blowing. There were voices yel""g
on all sides, in a great confusion of orders: "By sec- "ons, right - walk-march, trot!" and "Battalion, halt! nto ^e - left turn!" and "Troop Seven - left incline,
^ard!" But Arnold wouldn't stop, though I shouted to
' ^d I couldn't see where the troops were, for the
, 257
,, 1
fired wide at Moodkee, but you earned yer ch
today, didn't yer, ye little black bugger!" And ever^1118 roared and cheered and helped them along, thef006 headed, red-faced ruffian and the sleek brown Ben w'
both of them grinning with the same wild light in t^'
eyes. That's victory - it was in all their eyes, even those6"
"a pale young comet of the 3rd Lights with his ami off^ the elbow, raving as they carried him past at the run anri of a private with a tulwar gash in his cheek, spitting b'lonrf at every word as he told me how Gough was entrenched i
the Sikhs' position in case of counter-attack, but there }va
^ no fear of that.
"We done for 'em, sir!" cries he, and his yellow facina were as red as his coat with his own gore. "They won't
stop runnin' till they gets to La'ore, I reckon! You should
'ear 'em cheer ole Daddy Gough - ain't 'e the boy
though?" He peered at me, holding a grimy cloth to hiiH wound. '"Ere, you orl right, sir? Fair done in you looks,!^^ you'll 'scuse my sayin' so ..."
It was true -1, who hadn't been near the fight, and had
been right as rain, was all at once ready to keel over where
I sat. And it wasn't the heat, or the excitement, or the
sight of his teeth showing through his cheek (other folks' , blood don't bother me), or the screaming from the |
hospital basha, or the stench of stale blood and acrid
smoke from the battle, or the dull ache in my ankle - none
of that. I believe it was the knowledge that at last it was all
over, and I could give way to the numbing fatigue that had
, been growing through one of the worst weeks of my life.
:'?I'd had one night's sleep out of eight, counting from the
first which I'd spend galloping Mangia; then there'd been
my Khalsa frolic, the Sutlej crossing, the ride from Lal
and Tej to Ferozepore, the vigil as we listened to distant
Moodkee, uneasy slumber after Broadfoot had given me his bad news, the freezing march to Misreewallah, and
finally, the first night of Ferozeshah. Oh, I was luckier
than many, but I was beat all to nothing - and now it was
-i t was safe, and could lurch from my stool and down on the charpoy, dead to the world.
when I'n1 dog-tired with shock, I have nightmares f cheese and lobster, but this one laid it over
for I fell slowly through the charpoy, into a bath
water, and when I rolled over I was staring up at
J1 ^""g painting of Gough and Hardinge and Broadfoot, -see --d out like Persian princes, having dinner with Mrs a? i^soa who tilted her glass and poured oil all over me, hch made me so slippery that I couldn't hope to transfer 9 yjiole Soochet legacy, coin by coin, from my navel to
oueen Ranavalona's as she pinned me down on a red-hot billiard-table. Then she began to pummel and shake me,
and I knew she was trying to make me get up because
Gough wanted me, and when I said I couldn't, because of
my ankle, the late lamented Dr Arnold, wearing a great
tartan puggaree, came by on an elephant, crying that he
would take me, for the Chief needed a Greek translation
of Crotchet Castle instanter, and if I didn't take it to Tej
Singh, Elspeth would commit suttee. Then I was following
him, floating across a great dusty plain, and the smell of
burning was everywhere, and filthy ash was falling like
snow, and there were terrible bearded faces of dead men,
smeared with blood, and corpses all about us, with ghastly
wounds from which their entrails spilled out on earth that was sodden crimson, and there were great cannon lying on
their sides or tumbled into pits, and everywhere the charred
wreckage of tents and carts, and huts, some of them
still in flames. ;%gS ^'afe.1^.:' '..i-
There was a mighty tumult, too, a great cannonading,
and the shriek and crash of shot striking home, the rattle
of musketry, and bugles blowing. There were voices yelling
on all sides, in a great confusion of orders: "By sec- Long , right - walk-march, trot!" and "Battalion, halt! hto line - left turn!" and "Troop Seven - left incline,
forward!" But Arnold wouldn't stop, though I shouted to him, and I couldn't see where the troops were, for the
BE - 257
horse I was riding was going too fast, and the sun wan
my eyes. I raised my left hand to shield them, but ^ sun's rays burned more fiercely than ever, causing n such pain that I cried out, for it was burning a hole in n, palm, and I clutched at Arnold with my other hand - and
suddenly he was Mad Charley West, gripping me round
the shoulders and yelling to me to hold on, and my left
hand was pumping blood from a ragged hole near the
thumb, causing excruciating agony, and all hell was loose around me.
That was the moment when I realised that I wasn't dreaming.
An eminent medico has since explained that exhaustio
and strain induced a trance-like state when I sank downo
the charpoy, and that while my nightmares turned t^ reality, I didn't come to properly until I was wounded in
the hand - which is the most immediately painful place in
the whole body, and I should know, since I've been hit in most others. In between, Mad Charley had wakened me,
helped me to mount (bad ankle and all), and we'd ridden
at speed through the carnage of the recent battle to
Gough's position beyond Ferozeshah village - and all I'd
taken in were those disjointed pictures I've just described.
The sawbones had an impressive medical name for it, but
I doubt if there's one for the sensation I felt as I gripp^ my wounded hand to crush the pain away, and took in^ scene about me.
Directly before me were two troops of Native hoi* artillery, firing as fast as they could load, the little brown
gunners springing aside to avoid the recoil, the crasD the salvoes staggering my horse by its very vlo^en<;e'Q(l. my left was a ragged square of British infantry - th ^ for I saw the penny badge on their shakos - and beyo
them others, sepoy and British, kneeling and standw
with the reserve ranks behind. To my right it ^a.
same, more squares, inclined back at a slight angw' ^^|
their colours in the centre, like the pictures of Wate
^
258
glares, with the dust boiling round them, and shot ,1 Rw^^ng overhead or ploughing through with a clap like ?
SC^CT; men were falling, sometimes singly, sometimes
hrded aside as a shot tore into the ranks; I saw a great '(he six files wide, cut by grape at the corner of the ^ square, and the air filled with red spray. Before me a g horse Bin suddenly stood up on end, its muzzle split like a |
<of celery, and then it crashed down in a hellish tangle 3 Hen men and stricken horses. It was as though a gale ||
on rain was sweeping the ranks, coming God knew ||. |
whence, for the dust and smoke enveloped us - and Mad '^ :1 ^barley was hauling at my bridle, urging me through it.
H There's never a time when pain and fear don't matter, H
but sometimes shock is so bewildering that you don't
flunk of them. One such time is when you wake up to find
that good artillery has got your range and is pounding you ; sa to pieces; there's nothing to be done, no time even to % % iope you won't be hit, and you can't hurl yourself to the
pround and lie there squealing - not when you find you're alongside Paddy Gough himself, and he's pulling off his landana and telling you to wrap it round your fin and pay attention.
"Put your finger on the knot, man! There, now - look
ahead and take close note of what ye see!"
He yanked the bandage tight, and pointed, and through
tears of anguish and terror I looked beyond the clouds of ^tuingdust.
A bare half-mile away the plain was alive with hor- ^"en. The artillery teams who'd been shelling us, light ^_ swivels and heavier field pieces, were wheeling TV through the advancing ranks of a great tide of "ry cantering towards us knee to knee. It must have
reefato^ ^un^red yards from wing to wing, with lancer "^"ts on the flanks, and in the centre the heavy
|^^ ns in tunics of white and red, tulwars at the
B MUeh Mltbe low sun gleaming on polished helms from "n plumes stood up like scarlet combs - and only
259
when I remembered those same plumes at Maian Mir didi
realise the full horror of what I was seeing. These w&e
Sikh line cavalry, and dazed and barely half-awake as [ was, I knew that could mean only one thing, even if it ^ impossible: we were facing the army of Tej Singh, the
cream of the Khalsa thirty thousand strong, who should
have been miles away in futile watch on Ferozepore. No
they were here - beyond the approaching storm of horsemen
I could see the massed ranks of infantry, regiment
on regiment, with the great elephant guns before then.
And we were a bare ten thousand, dropping with exhalation
after three battles which had decimated us, and out of
food, water, and shot.
Historians say that on that one moment, as the Khalsa's
spearhead was rushing at our throat, rested the three ceaturies
of British India. Perhaps. It was surely the momeit |
in which Gough's battered little army stared certain deaA f and destruction in the face, and whatever may have set- ;
tied our fate later, one man turned the hinge then and
there. Without him, we (aye, and perhaps all India) woutt
have been swept away in bloody ruin. I'll wager you'* never heard of him, the forgotten brigadier, Mickei^ White.
It happened in split seconds. Even as I dashed the sweat
from my eyes and stared again, the bugles blared along those surging lines of Khalsa horsemen, the tulwars rose's a wave of steel and the great forest of lance-points dipp^ as the canter became a gallop. Gough was roaring to otf
men to hold their fire, and I heard Huthwaite yelling tW the guns were at the last round, and the muskets of t infantry squares came to the present in a ragged fence <" bayonets that must be ridden under as that magnifice01 sea of men and horses engulfed us. I never saw the ? j my life, I who watched the great charge agaii1' j
Campbell's Highlanders at Balaclava - but those w^ ;
only Russians, while these were the fathers of the GuiW
and Probyn's and the Bengal Lancers, and the only tb^
260
gtop them at full tilt was a horse soldier as good as
themselves.
He was there, and he chose his time. A few more
seconds and the gallop would have been a charge - but
now a trumpet sounded on the right, and wheeling out
before our squares came the remnant of our own mounted
division, the blue tunics and sabres of the 3rd Lights and
the black fezzes and lances of the Native Cavalry, with
White at their head, launching themselves at the charge
against the enemy's flank. They didn't have the numbers,
they didn't have the weight, and they were spent, man and
beast - but they had the time and the place to perfection,
and in a twinkling the Khalsa charge was a struggling
confusion of rearing beasts and falling riders and flashing
steel as the Lights tore into its heart and the sowar lancers
Faked across its front.36
My female and civilian readers may wonder how this
could be - that a small force of horsemen could confound
one far greater. Well, that's the beauty of the flank attack
- think of six hearty chaps racing forward in line, and one
artful dodger barges into the end man, from the side.
They're thrown out of kilter, tumbling into one another,
and though they're six to one, five of 'em can't come at
Aeir attacker. At its best a good flank movement can
"roll up" the enemy like a window blind, and while
White's charge didn't do that, it threw them quite off
wurse, and when that happens to cavalry in formation
their momentum's gone, and good loose riders can play
"ie devil with them.
So what happened under our noses was a deuce of a
''""nmage, and though White's horse went down, he was
.ere ^d there like a wild-cat on foot, with the Lights
osing round him, the sabres swinging, and Gough up in
ms stlrruPs shouting: "You'll do, Mick! That's your sort,
my boy! And who," he roars at me, "are those fellows,
wm ^ tell me?"
Touted that they were Khalsa regulars, not gor-
_ 261
racharra - Mouton's and Foulkes's regiments, for certain
and Gordon's, too, though I couldn't be sure.
"That's the pick of 'em, then!" snaps he. "}VeD
White's put a flea in their ear, so he has! Now, take you
this glass, and tell me about their infantry! West, note it
down!"
So while the cavalry rumpus petered out, with the
Khalsa horsemen drawing off, and our own fellows, half
of them dismounted, limping back to reform, I surveyed
that mass of infantry with a sinking heart, calling them off
by name - AUard's, Court's, Avitabile's, Delust's,
Alvarine's, and the rest of the divisions. The standards
were easy to read, and so were those grim bearded faces, sharp in my glass - I could even make out the silver
buckles on the black cross-belts, the aigrets in the turbans, and the buttons on the tunics, white and red and blue and
green, just as I'd seen them on Maian Mir. How the devfl
came they here - had Tej's colonels lost patience and
made him march to the sound of the guns? That must
it, and now that White had played our last card, we coi
only wait for them to advance and swallow us. The victf of Ferozeshah had become a death-trap - and I remembered
Gardner's words: "They reckon they can whip Jo1"1 Company." And now John Company could barely staaa up in his shot-torn squares, his pouches and magazine empty, his guns silent, his cavalry lame, and only as bayonets left.
Across the plain spurts of flame flickered along "e Khalsa batteries like an electric storm, followed by " thunder of the discharge, the howl of shot overhead, an
hideous crashing and screaming as it burst ^"j..., squares. They were making sure, the bastards, pos1 _ us to death at leisure before sending in their footIee^ ments to cut up the remains; again the dust boiled "F
the grape and roundshot tore through the entrenchi^ ^ we could stand or we could run. John Company c" .^ stand, God knows why. In my case, he stood 3s
262
behind Gough as might be, too scared even to pray - and a
had choice of position it was, too. For as the bombardment
reached its height, and the squares vanished in the
rolling red clouds, and our army died by inches, with men
eoine down like skittles and the blood running under our
hooves, and some heroic ass bawling: "Die hard. Queen's
Own!", and Flashy wondering if he dared cut out under
the eye of his Chief, and knowing I hadn't the game for it,
and even my wound forgotten as the deadly hail swept
through us - suddenly Gough wheeled his horse, looking
right and left at the wreck of his army, and the old fellow
was absolutely weeping! Then he flung away his hat, and I
heard him growl:
"Oi niwer wuz bate, an' Oi niwer will be bate! West,
Flashman - follow me!"
And he wheeled his charger and went racing out into
the plain.
You fall on your bloody sword if you want to, Paddy,
thinks I, and would have stood my ground or dived for
rover, more like - but Charley was away like a shot, my "east followed suit like the idiot cavalry screw he was, I
clutched at the bridle with my shattered hand, near fainted at the pain, and found myself careering in their wake.
"w a moment I thought the old fellow had gone crazy, an was fo!' charging the Khalsa on his own, but he veered
-^"S^ making for the flank square - and as he gal- TPed clear of it and suddenly reined in on his haunches, j^" rose in his stirrups with his arms wide, I saw what he
I'fi^ti1"^ knew that white coat of Gou^'s'the famous
aunt' ^ coat." ^t The crazy old son-of-a-bitch had been
he p at lus foes for fifty years, from South Africa and
ism enlnsula to the Northwest Frontier. Now he was
 unl draw the nre troi" his army to himself (and the
raggeni^ gallopers whom the selfish old swine had
aw ^ "Qng). It was the maddest-brained trick you ever nu> damnation, it worked! I can see him still,
263
holding the tails out and showing his teeth, his white hair
streaming in the wind, and the earth exploding round him for the Sikh gunners took the bait and hammered us with
everything they had. And of course, we weren't hit-try
turning your batteries on three men at a thousand yards
and see what it gets you.37
But you don't reckon mathematical probabilities with a
hurricane of shot whistling about your ears. I forced my
beast alongside him, and yelled:
"Sir Hugh, you must withdraw! The army cannot spare
you, sir!" Which was inspiration, if you like, but wasted
on that Irish idiot. He yelled something that I couldn't
hear ... and then the miracle happened. And if you don't
believe it, look in the books.
All of a sudden, the firing died away, and across the
plain the bugles rang out, and the drums rolled, the great
gold banners were raised in the rays of the setting sun, and
the Khalsa began to move. It came on in column by regiments,
with a line of Jat light infantry leading, green
figures with their pieces at the trail - and suddenly Charley
West was shouting:
"Look, Sir Hugh! Our cavalry! The guns
they're retiring!"
Not before time, thinks I, 'though it shocked me, Ic tell you. For he was right: where we sat, perhaps a furl0 ahead of our right flank, we had a clear view of the app
ling ruin of our army - the dozen battered squares of^_
figures, with great gaps in their ranks, the regimental
ours stirring in the evening wind, the bodies SV'xa'ws.^ the earthworks, the plain before them littered wlw^ and dying beasts and men, the whole hideous
mantled in dust and smoke from the charred wr0'"36,
And the cavalry, what was left of it, was trotting
southward, across the front of our left-hand sq
which were inclined slightly back from those on the ^ They were in column by troops, Native la"^ ^ Irregular Horse, and then the 3rd Lights, with the
264
auns following, bouncing along behind the teams.
6 "They - they can't be runnin'!" cries West. "Sir Hugh
-shall I ride to 'em, sir? It must be a mistake, surely!"
Gough was staring after them as though he'd seen a ghost. I guess it was something he'd not seen in half a
century - horse and guns leaving the infantry to their fate.
But he didn't stare more than a moment.
"After 'em. West! Bring 'em back!" he snapped, and
Mad Charley was away, head down and heels in, drumming
up the dust, while Gough turned to look again
towards the Khalsa.
They were well out on the plain now, in splendid style,
infantry in the centre with the horse guns at intervals
among them, cavalry on the wings. Gough motioned to
id we began to trot back towards our position. For
>t time I saw Hardinge, with a little knot of officers,
front of the right-hand squares. He was looking ;h a glass, and turning his head to call an order. The
jling squares stood up, the men closing on each other, cs at the present, the dying sun flickering on the line
gyonets. Gough reined up. ;
ere'U do as well as any place," says he, and shaded 'es to look across the plain. "Man, but there's a fine
is it not? Fit to gladden a soldier's heart, so it is.
nere's to them - and to us." He nodded to me. nk you, me son." He threw back the tail of his coat
rew his sabre, loosing the frog to let the scabbard fall ; ground.
(^think J^'re all goin' home," says he.
R^ced over my shoulder. Behind me the plain was
e' our right flank' with Jungle not a nule away- ere wasnt blown or ^"le, and I was damned if I'd
ibiv t be butchered by that juggernaut tramping
>efo wards us; the blsiTe 0 ioeir heathen music hou^them' and t)ehind it the measured thunder of
of teet- From the squares came the hoarse
. """"nand; I stole another look at the distant
265
jungle, tightening my sound hand on the bridle ..
"Dear God!" exclaims Gough, and I started
round. And what I saw was another impossibility, buiT*
there it was.
The Khalsa had halted in its tracks. The dust was eddv
ing up before the advance line of Jats, they were tura^
to look back at the main body, we could hear voices shriL
ling orders, and the music was dying away in a discordan
wail. The great standards seemed to be wavering, the
whole vast army was stirring like a swarm, the rattle of a
single kettle-drum was taken up, repeated from regiment
to regiment, and then it was as though a Venetian blind
had opened and closed across the front of the great hostit
was the ranks turning about, churning up the dust, ai^_
then they were moving away. The Khalsa was in fuB
retreat.
There wasn't a sound from our squares. Then, from
somewhere behind me, a man laughed, and a voice called
angrily for silence. That's the only noise I remember, but I
wasn't paying much heed. I could only watch in stricken
bewilderment as twenty thousand of the best native troops
in the world turned their backs on an exhausted, helpless
enemy . . . and left the victory to us.
Gough sat his horse like a statue, staring after thern.j^
full minute passed before he chucked the reins, turning h^|
mount. As he walked it past me towards the squares, w
nodded and says:
"You get that hand seen to, d'ye hear? An' when ye_
^ done with it, I'll be obliged for the return of oh
neckercher."
-. 6N So
that was Ferozeshah as I saw it - the
jdian Waterloo", the bloodiest battle we ever fought in
the Orient, and certainly the queerest - and while other
accounts may not tally with mine (or with each other's) on
small points, all are agreed on the essentials. We took
Ferozeshah, at terrible cost, in two days of fighting, and
^
Kat the end of our tether when Tej Singh have in view
an overwhelming force, and then sheered off when
he could have eaten us for dinner.
Re great controversy is: why did he do it? Well, you
why, because I've told you - he kept his word to us,
and betrayed his army and his country. Yet there are
respected historians who won't believe it, to this day some
because they claim the evidence isn't strong enough,
others because they just won't have it that victory was
won by anything other than sheer British valour. Well, it
played its part, by God it did, but the fact is it wouldn't
have been enough, without Tej's treachery.
One of the things which confuses the historians is that Tej himself, who could lie truth out of India when he wanted to, told so many different stories afterwards. He assured Henry Lawrence that he didn't push home his attack because he was sure it must fail; having seen the ^osses we'd taken in capturing Ferozeshah, he decided it
inn3 ""P0188 position to assail now that we were defendalf
" He told the same tale to Sandy Abbott. Well, that's
the l ^ ^e' ^e ^ulew nls strength, and he knew we were at ^astgasp, so that won't wash.
"other lie, repeated to Alick Gardner, was that he was
f
267
off collecting reserves at the time. If that's so, and he wasn't
even there, who gave the Khalsa the order to turn abnup
The truth, I believe, is what he told me many yeare later. He'd have stayed before Ferozepore till the Sutlei
froze, if his colonels hadn't forced him to march to the
battle - and once in sight of Ferozeshah he was in a pickle
because he could see that victory was his for the taking'
He had to think up some damned fine excuse for not
overwhelming us, and Chance provided it, at the last
moment, when our guns and cavalry inexplicably withdrew,
leaving our infantry as lonely as the policeman at
Heme Bay. "Now's your time, Tej!" cries the Khalsa,
"give the word and the day is ours!" "Not a bit of it!"
says clever Tej. "Those crafty bastards ain't withdrawing
at all - they're circling round to take us flank and rear!
Back to the Sutlej, boys, I'll show you the way!" And the
Khalsa did as they were told.
Well, you can see why. The three days of Moodkee and
Ferozeshah had given their rank and file a great respect
for us. They didn't realise what poor fettle we were in, or
that the withdrawal of our horse and artillery was in fact
an appalling mistake. It looked as though it might have
some sinister purpose to it, as Tej was suggesting, and
while they suspected his courage and character (rightly).
they also knew he wasn't a bad soldier, and might be right
for once. So they obeyed him, and we were saved when
we should have been massacred. |
You may ask why our cavalry and guns unexpectedly
flew off into the blue, giving Tej his excuse for retreating Well, that was a gift from the gods. I told you thai
Lumley, the Adjutant-General, had gone barmy dunng
the first day's fighting, and kept saying we mustrewe. Ferozepore; well, on the second day, all his screws cam6 loose together, he got Ferozepore on the brain entire 7j and at the height of the battle he ordered our gu^ w^ cavalry away - in Hardinge's name, if you please, so
they went, with the great loony urging them to
268
haste. So that's how it was - Mickey White, Tej Singh,
nd Lumley > each doing his little bit in his own way. Odd
business, war.38 We'd lost 700 dead, and close on 2000 wounded, includ-
ne your humble obedient who spent the night under a
tree almost freezing to death, and utterly famished, with
Hardinge and what was left of his staff. There was no
sleep to be had, with my hand throbbing in agony, but I
daren't bleat, for Abbott alongside me had three wounds
to my one, and was cheerful enough to sicken you. Round
about dawn Baxu the butler rolled up with some chapattis
and milk, and when we'd wolfed it down and Hardinge
iad prayed a bit, we all crawled aboard an elephant and
umbered down to Ferozepore, which was to be our seat of government henceforth, while Gough and most of the
inny camped near Ferozeshah. It was a great procession of wounded and baggage all the way to Ferozepore, and when we reached the entrenchments who should emerge
>ut the guns and cavalry who had abandoned ship at the
atal moment. Hardinge was in a bate to know why, and
>ne of the binky-nabobs* assured him it had been on
irgent orders from Hardinge himself, transmitted by the Adjutant-General.
So now the cry was "Lumley", and presently he
Ppeared, very brisk and with a wild glint in his eye, ""ing the air with a fly-whisk and giving sharp little cries;
e was dressed in pyjamys and a straw boater, and was '^ly on his way to the Hatter's for tea. Hardinge
emanded why he'd sent off the guns, and Lumley looked
ce and said they had needed fresh magazines, of ", and damned if he'd known where they could get
y_bar Ferozepore. He sounded quite indignant.
luidh0 miles away?" cries Hardinge. "What service splenic ^o^e to ^ in tlme' Opposing they had
tiUeiyco,
'"unanders.
269
Lumley snapped back, about as much as they'd k.
done at Ferozeshah, with no charges left. He seemprf
quite pleased with this, and laughed loudly, swatting Hies
while Hardinge went purple. "And the cavalry, then^
cries he. "Why did you bid them retire?"
"Escort," says Lumley, picking imaginary mice off hi.
shirt. "Can't have guns goin' about unguarded. Desper.
ate fellows everywhere - Sikhs, don't you know? Swoon
pounce, carry 'em off, I assure you. Besides, cavain
needed a rest. Quite played out."
"And you did this in my name, sir?" cries Hardinge.
"Without my authority?"
Lumley said, impatiently, that if he hadn't, no one
would have paid him any heed. He grew quite agitated id
describing how on the first night he'd told Harry Smith tq
retreat, and Harry had told him to go to hell. "Usini
foulest language, sir! 'Damn the orders!' - his very won
though I said 'twas in your name, and the battle was lo
and we must buy the Sikhs if we were to come off. 1
wouldn't listen," says Lumley, looking ready to cry.
Well, everyone except Hardinge could see that the f
low was liable to start plaiting his toes into door-mats, t
our pompous G.G. wouldn't let him alone. Why,
demanded, was Lumley improperly dressed in pyjan
instead of uniform? Lumley gave a great guffaw and says
"Ah, well, you see, my overalls were so riddled wiri
musket-balls, they dropped off me!"39
They sent him home, which made me wonder if he "j^s
quite as tap* as he sounded, for at least he got out '""^B
while the rest of us must soldier on, waiting for Paddy t^|
plan his next bloodbath. I had hopes of keeping clea^
with my hand shot through and my supposedly bad i"'"
but once we'd settled in Ferozepore and taken sto
blowed if I wasn't the fittest junior in view. M'"1
Somerset, and Hore of Hardinge's staff were dead,
*Mad, usually with sunstroke.
270 --1
opcher were wounded, Abbott wouldn't recover for
Irs and the toll among the politicals had been frightBBwith
Broadfoot and Peter Nicolson dead and Mills and The badly wounded. It's a damned dangerous game,
nioaignmg' especially with a sawbones as heartily callous
as old Billy M'Gregor. "Man, that's a grand hole in your hand!" cries he, sniffing it. "Nae gangrene or broken
hones - ye'U be grippin' a glass or a gun inside the week!
Your ankle? Ach, it's fine - ye could play peever* this
minute!"
Not what I care to hear from my medical man in wartime;
I'd been looking for a ticket to Meerut at least. But
with politicals so scarce there was no hope of that, and
when saintly Henry Lawrence turned up to take Broad-
Ks place, I was kept hard at it - among other duties,
g to the provision of fur boots for our elephants
against the winter cold. Capital, thinks I, this is the way to
serve out the war in comfort. "/; e ^
Ene thing now seemed plain: the Khalsa couldn't
ohn Company. The bogy had been laid at
hah, India was safe, and while they were still in
strength beyond the river, it remained only to bring them
ne final action to break them for good and all. So for
present we sat and watched them, Gough awaiting his
ice to strike, and Hardinge turning his mind to great
_""" of state and political settlements, with Lawrence,
knew the Punjab better even than Broadfoot, at his ^"ow.
was shockingly Christian, Lawrence, but an Al ca! for all that. He turned me inside out about re, and wanted me in at the high pow-wows, but
Thef"^0 said l was far too J""101"' and "overzealous".
lmv was he Gouldn't abide me, and wanted to forget
1,-^tence. Here's why. ^[e "ad a bloody close call in India, and it was
271
Hardinge's fault. He'd failed to secure the frontr
through pussyfooting and hindering Gough, and the stoi" truth was that when the grip came, two men had saved ft
day - Gough and 1.1 ain't bragging; you know I never a' (well, maybe about women and horses, but never about
small things). I'd instructed Lal and Tej's treachery and Paddy had held his ragbag army together, got it to the gate
in time, and won his fights. Oh, they'd been costly, and
he'd fought head on, and taken some hellish risks, but
he'd done the business as few could have done it -
Hardinge for one. But that wasn't how Hardinge saw if
he believed he'd stopped Paddy from throwing the anny
away at Ferozeshah, and from that it was a short step (o
seeing himself as the Saviour of India. Well, he was Gov- ernor-General, after all, and India had been saved.
Q.E.D.
Indeed, he seemed to think he'd done it in spite of
Gough - and inside a week of Ferozeshah he was writing
to Peel in London urging that Paddy be given the sack. I
saw the letter, accidental-like, when I was rummagil^ through his excellency's effects in search of cheroots, and
it was a beauty: Paddy wasn't fit to be trusted with the
war, the army was "unsatisfactory", he'd no head far bandobast, he didn't frame orders properly, etc. Wd|
dash my wig, thinks I, here's gratitude - and the measurM of Henry Hardinge. Framing orders, my foot - no douf
"On ye go, Mickey, give 'em one for me!" offended  staff college sensibilities, but he might have reinembereC
another general of his acquaintance whose style wa^,^ very different: "Stand up, Guards! Now, Maitland, nowj
;,,;,, your time!" If I'd been a man I'd have scrawled it acnf S- his precious letter. ,
It was plain why he was tattling to Peel, though: sin the blame for the butcher's bill and the near squeak we had onto Gough, and who'd think back to ^--
incompetence and fear of offending Lahore and Lea 'U hall Street that had helped bring on the war v_ we
272 m
I
and damned near lost it? It was artfully done, too,
tribute to Paddy's energy and courage; you could
e Peel shuddering at the name of Gough, and nagln (jod that Hardinge had been on hand.
"rZnflrt misunderstand. I ain't championing the old
., yno was a bloodthirsty savage, and a splendid chap moid - but I liked him, because he'd no side, and was }v and offended the Quality by commissioning rankers nd damn the royal prerogative - aye, and by winning ms with his "Tipperary tactics". Perhaps that was his reatest offence. Oh, I know Hardinge was an honourable
ian who never stole a box-car in his life, and that most of
Aat'he said of Paddy was true. That ain't the point. That
would have been shabby if I'd written it, dammit;
from a man of honour it was unpardonable. But it
how the wind set, and I wasn't surprised, on rootther
through Hardinge's satchels (most elusive,
cheroots were) to find a note in his daybook:
'oliticals of no real use." So there - plainly Flashy
mid get no credit, either; my work with Lal and Tej
mid be conveniently forgotten. Well, thank'ee. Sir
['nry, and I hope your rabbit dies and you can't sell the
tch.'"
I pondered about informing Paddy anonymously that he ps being nobbled, but decided to let it be; mischiefs all ^y well, but you never know where it may end. So I lay
I*, running errands for Lawrence. He was a gaunt, ill- "Pered scarecrow, but he'd known me in Afghanistan "thought I was another heroic ruffian like himself, so ^dealt pretty well. He'd seen from Broadfoot's papers
l ^^fge had been meaning to send me back to rc, "bm I can't think why, can you? Anyway, I
;(j tue G-G. would approve; he thinks you've mednough
in Punjabi politics. But you'd best let your r^ow. just in case."
Sakat and the weeks went ^ while we waited for the ^ve, and our own army recovered and grew
273
strong. We celebrated Christmas with the first deconi tree ever I saw,41 a great fir brought down from the 1-S and sprinkled with flour to represent snow on
Caledonians boozed in the New Year with raucous'inini and unspeakable song, the reinforcements arrived fron
Umballa, and we saw the scarlet and blue of Britisi
Lancer regiments, the green of the little Gurkha hiBiaei
strutting by with their knives bouncing on their ricked arses, the Tenth Foot with band playing and Colounfc
ing, and everyone pouring out of the tents to sing them a:
For'tis my delight
Of a shining night, ^
In the season of the year! ___ ^
Behind came Native Cavalry and marching sepoy battalions,
with Sappers and artillery - Paddy had 15,000inei
now, and the young Lancer bucks strutted and haw-hawed
and asked when were these Sikh wallahs goin' to showin some sport, hey? God, I love newcomers in at the death, don't I just? There was one quiet Lancer, though, a Mack- whiskered Scotch nemesis who said never a word, ^ played the bull fiddle for his recreation. He caught ayey then, and again fifteen years later when he led the mara
to Peking, the most terrible killing gentleman you ever saw: Hope Grant. ,
So there we were, cocked and ready to fire, and beycw
the river, although we didn't know it, little DaUp's^-- was shaking, for it was touch and go whether the Kb
raging in defeat and convinced they'd been b08^, would fight us or march on Lahore to slake ^^"'^j
Jeendan and the durbar. They'd have hanged Lal Sw^ they could have caught him, but he'd hidden in a w1^ after Ferozeshah, and then in a baker's oven.^^ sneaking back to Lahore, where Jeendan in0^ ^ abused him when she was sober, and galloped lllll'g(i she was drunk. Between bouts she was sendingttt^ of encouragement to her half-mutinous army, tc111"1'
274
gye up, but to march on and conquer; at the same of she shut the city gates against the fugitives from Lal's ^rineent, who'd deserted in thousands, and even
Sered Gardner to recall a Muslim brigade from the
mnt to protect her in case the Khalsa Sikhs came looking
j^y. Resourceful lass, she was, egging on her army t-hile she turned her capital into an armed camp against
is;'-: ' fnyS
hem. . ~'i'' *Goolab
Singh was playing the same game from Kashoir.
The Khalsa pleaded with him to bring his hillmen to
he war, and even offered to make him Maharaja, but the ild fox saw we had the game won, and put them off with
romises that he'd join once the campaign was fully
aunched, while making a great display of sending them
upply convoys which he made sure were only quarter
oaded and moved at a snail's pace.
Meanwhile Tej Singh was scheming how to lead the
Chalsa to final destruction. He had the bulk of them in
and, outnumbering us three to one, and must do somelung
before they lost patience with him. So he threw a
'ridge of boats over the Sutlej at Sobraon and built a
trong position on the south bank in a bend of the river
Ike Paddy daren't attack him without heavy guns, ^ro we still lacked. At the same time, another Sikh
1 struck over the river farther up, threatening Lud-
and our lines of communication, so Gough moved
I to contain Tej's bridgehead and sent Harry Smith to 'with th Ludhiana incursion. Smith, full of conceit "^ger as usual, stalked the invaders to and fro in the
'^k of January, and then handed them a fearful ""g at Aliwal, killing 5000 and taking over fifty guns mat did rattle the Khalsa, for the beaten commanI
njoor ^ngh, was a first-class man, and Smith had
nun wi^ g smaller force, and no excuse of ^ this time.
('nGough's camp at Sobraon when the news came
' w Hardinge was in the habit of riding the
275
twenty miles from Ferozepore every other day with h.
new staff of toadies, to have a sniff and a carp at GraJ?
dispositions,42 and Lawrence always went along, withi'
correspondent bringing up the rear. A great roar of die,
ing ran through the lines, and Paddy fairly danced iit
joy, and then scudded off to his tent for a pray. Lawimc,
;:; and other Holy Joes took their cue, and I was about h
:' sidle off to the staff mess when I heard a great groan dose
by, and there was old Gravedigger Havelock, clasping las
bony paws in supplication and looking like Thomas Carlyle with rheumatics -1 never seemed to see that man but
y^ he was calling on God for something or other: possibly it
^ was the sight of me that did it. He'd prayed over me like a
mad monk at Jallalabad, but the last I'd seen of him had
been his boots, viewed from under the pool table wMe I
rogered Mrs Madison.
"Amen!" booms he, and left off addressing heava
wring my hand, glaring joyfully. "It is Flashman! My I
how long since last I saw you?" <
"Sale's billiard-room at Simla," says I, not thinin
and he frowned and said I hadn't been there that evening.
surely?
'. y "Neither I was!" says I hastily. "Must have been i
other chap. Let's see, when did we last meet? C
somewhere, was it?"
"I have thought of you often since Afghanistan!"
he, still mangling my fin. "Ah, we smelled the battle l
off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting!"^
"Didn't we just, though? Ah, yes. Well, now.  
"But come - will you not join your voice with
our Chief, in gratitude to Him who hath voucbsaic"
this victory?" ^
"Oh, rather! But, I say, you'll have to give n*6^
Graved - skipper, I mean. You always put itso _
well.. . praying, don't you know?" Which ^^^
end, and in two shakes we were on our hami
Gough's tent, and it struck me as I looked at tn
276
, Havelock, Lawrence, Edwardes, Bagot, and I
v Hope Grant was there, too - that I'd never seen
a pack of born blood-spillers at their devotions in my
It's an odd thing about deadly men - they're all
icted either to God or the Devil, and I ain't sure but
t the holy ones aren't the more fatal breed of the two.
ut mainly I recall that impromptu prayer meeting iuse it set me thinking of Elspeth again, when
relock invoked a blessing not only on our fallen corn- is "but on those yet to fall in the coming strife, and on ,e dear, distant homes which will be darkened with
iraing under the wings of Death's angel". Amen,
Jcs I, but steer him clear of 13a Brook Street, oh Lord,
ou don't mind. Listening to Gravedigger, I could riutely picture the melancholy scene, with the wreath 3ur knocker, and the blinds drawn, and my father-in-
whining about the cost of crepe . .. and my lovely, ien-haired Elspeth, her blue eyes dim with tears, in
black veil and black gloves and dainty black satin
pers, and long clocked stockings with purple rosettes
ler garters and that shiny French corset with the patent
s that you just had to twitch and she came bursting
Bjshman was much moved, I thought," Havelock ^terwards, and so I was, at the thought of all that ^Ptuous goodness so far away, and going to waste - at '/ ^P^ it was, but I had my doubts; heaven knew ^many my melting little innocent had thrashed the ess with in my absence. Brooding on that over sup- on, "^ no consolation in port and fond musings
, ^ own '"discretions with Jeendan and Mangia and ^son, I found myself getting quite jealous - and
Id or that blonde beauty on t'other side of the
^wa brisk strc11 m the cold "S111 air' I deddedUHa
oppulg in Cough's camp by Sobraon, so that nge wuld bicker over the next move, and I
277
sauntered along the lines in the frosty dark, listen! our artillery firing a royal salute in celebration of Sr
victory at Aliwal; barely a mile away I could se
watch-fires of the Khalsa entrenchments in the I
bend, and as the crash of our guns died away, hani
the enemy didn't reply with a royal salute of their
and their bands playing . .. you'll never guess whs some ways it was the eeriest thing in that queer cam]
- the silence in our own lines as the gunsmoke di
overhead, the golden moon low in the purple sky, sh
on the rows of tents and the distant twinkling fires,
over the dark ground between, the solemn straii
"God Save the Queen"! I never heard it played so wi
by the Khalsa, and for the life of me I don't know h
day whether it was in derision or salute; with Sikhs,
can never tell.
I was thinking about that, and the impossibility of
knowing what goes on behind Indian eyes, and hen
misread them all (especially Jeendan's), and refle
that with any luck I'd soon have seen the last of t) thank heaven - and in that very moment an orderly < running to say, please, sir. Major Lawrence's coi
ments, and would I wait on the GovemorGenen
once?
It never occurred to me that my thoughts had
tempting fate, and as I waited in the empty annexe * served as an ante-room to Hardinge's pavilion I fc"
mild curiosity as to why he wanted me. Voices sounf the inner sanctum, but I gave no heed to them a Hardinge saying that something was a serious dm" - Lawrence replying that no time must be l0^' Gough's voice: , ^
"Well, then, a flyin' column! Under cover o o^,
goin' like billy-be-damned! Send Hope Grant ^ squadrons of the 9th, an' he can be in and o" anyone's the wiser." ^d ,. "No, no. Sir Hugh!" cries Hardinge. "If is to
1 it must be secret. That is insisted upon - if, indeed, ^ are to believe that fellow. Suppose it is some infernal
oh, bring him in again, Charles! And find
tever has happened to Flashman! I tell you, it troubles
that he is named in this . . ."
was listening now, all ears, as young Charlie Hardinge
reed, crying there I was, and bustling me in. Hardinge
saying that it was all most precarious, and no work for
nior man who had proved himself so headstrong . . .
had the grace to break off at sight of me, and sat cing peevish, with Lawrence and Van Cortlandt, >m I hadn't seen since Moodkee, standing behind. Old
dy, shivering in his cloak in a camp chair, gave me
d evening, but no one else spoke, and you could feel
anxiety in the air. Then Charlie was back again, usherin
a figure whose un- expected appearance set my irds cartwheeling in nameless alarm. He sauntered in,
whit abashed by the exalted company, wearing his ,han rags as though they were ermine, and his ugly face
t into a grin as his eye lit on me.
^y, hollo there, lieutenant!" says Jassa. "How's
ks?"
Stand there, under the lamp, if you please!" snaps '""ge. "Flashman, do you know this man?"
assa grinned even wider, and just from the glance ^".^wence and Van Cortlandt I guessed they'd
aj y '"SDtified him ten times over, but Hardinge, as
Harl33 P1^0^"^ by laborious rote. I said yes, he was My an'^an agent of Broadfoot's, lately posing as my
L pig "^"eriy of H.M.'s service in Burma. Jassa
| yu remembered that! Thank'ee, sir, that's
J'^S40'" says ^^inge. "You may go."
I mean t slr?" says Jassa- "But "-"I"'1 l ""g^ to
^ i i lleutenant is Soms to "
oe all!" says Hardinge, down his nose, so
279
Jassa shrugged, muttered as he passed me that it his goddam' pow-wow, and loafed out. HaTtf* exclaimed in irritation. Bt
"How came Broadfoot to employ such a person^ H '
an American!" He said it as though Jassa were a fan61 woman.
"Yes, amd a slippery one," says Van Cortlandt. 'u|
bore a bad name in the Punjab in my time. But if he cona from Gardner -"
"That's the point - does he?" Lawrence was brusque. He handed me a plain sealed note. "Harian brought ths, for you, from Colonel Gardner in Lahore. Says ft i|
establish his bona fides. The seal hasn't been touched."
Wondering what the deuce this was about, I broke the
seal - and had a sudden premonition of what I would read. Sure enough, there it was, one word: Wisconsin.
"He's from Gardner," says I, and they looked atitil turn. I explained it was a password known only to Gardner
and me, and Hardinge sniffed.
"Another American! Are we to rely on aforeip
mercenary in the employ of the enemy?" ||
"On this mercenary - yes," says Van Cortlandt curd?
"He's a sure friend. Without him, Flashman would a
have left Lahore alive." That's no way to boost GanWi
stock, thinks I. Hardinge raised his brows and sat baa. and Lawrence turned to me. ,
"Harian arrived an hour ago. It's bad news out ^ Lahore. Gardner says the Maharani and her son off grave peril, from their own army. There's talk ^P10- murder her, to abduct the little Maharaja and pl^-"^, the heart of the Khalsa, so that the panches can do  ^ please, in his name. That would mean the end ^ Singh, and the appointment of some trusted getew.,^ might well give us a long war." He didn't need to ao" it might be a disastrous war, for us; the Khalsa wei'. y, overwhelming strength if they had a leader who ki1
to use it. y a
"The boy's the key," says Lawrence. "Who holds him,
Ids power. The Khalsa knows it, and so does his Jiother. She wants him out of Lahore, and under our
rotection. At once. It will be a week at least before we cyst finish the Khalsa in battle -" ? ; ^- i
"Ten days, more like," says Gough.
"That is the time the plotters have in which to strike."
awrence paused, and my mouth went dry as I realised
iey were all watching me, Gough and Van Cortlandt eenly, Hardinge with gloomy disapproval.
"The Maharani wants you to fetch him out, secretly,"
says Lawrence. "That's her message, given by Gardner to
Harlan."
^B Steady now, thinks I, mustn't puke or burst into tears. ^(eep a straight face, and remember that the last thing
" rdinge wants is to have Flashy stirring the Punjab pot
in - that's your hole card, my boy, if this beastly proal
is to be scotched. So I made a lip, thoughtful-like,
loked down my supper, and said straight out:
"Very good, sir. I have a free hand, I suppose?"
That did the trick; Hardinge leaped as though he'd been
ffed. "No, sir, you do not! No such thing! You will keep
ur place, until ..." He glared, flustered, from
wrence to Gough. "Sir Hugh, I know not what to
ink! This scheme fills me with misgivings. What do we "low of these .. . these Americans ... and this aharani? If this were a plot to discredit us -"
.""t by Gardner!" snaps Van Cortlandt. S^i
The Maharani has good cause to fear for her child's ^ty," says Lawrence. "And her own. If anything befell em . well, when this war is past, we should find ourL^
"^ng with a state in anarchy. She and the boy are .nly hope of a good political solution." .""gh spoke up. "An' if we don't get one, we must
uer the Punjab. I tell ye, Sir Henry, we have not the ^s for that."
^ge's face was a study. He drummed his fingers
281
and fretted. "I cannot like it. Suppose it were made
appear that we were kidnapping the boy - why, it might hp
charged that we made war on children "
"Oh, never that!" cries Lawrence. "We'd be protecting
him. But if we do nothing, and he is seized by the
Khalsa - murdered, perhaps, and his mother with him
well, that would not be seen to our credit, I believe."
I could have kicked him. He'd hit on the best argument
to commit Hardinge to this dreadful folly. Credit, that was
the thing! What would London think? What would The Times say? You could see our Governor-General imagining
the outcry if blasted little Dalip got his weasand slit
through our neglect. He went pale, and then his face
cleared, while he pretended to ponder the thing.
"Certainly the child's safety must weigh heavily with
us," says he solemnly. "Humanity and policy both^a demand it... Sir Hugh, what is your thought?" ^1
"Get him out," says Paddy. "Ye cannot do other." J
Even then Hardinge must make a show of careful judgment,
frowning in silence while my heart sank to my
boots. Then he sighed. "So be it, then. We must pray that
we are not the dupes of some singular intrigue. But 1
insist, Lawrence, that either you or Van Cortlandt under
takes it." He shot me a baleful glance. "An older head-"
"By your leave, sir," says Lawrence. "Flashman, b
good enough to wait in my tent. I'll join you presently.
So I left obediently - and was round the outside <
Hardinge's tent like a frightened stoat, tripping over guyropes
and slithering in the frosty dark before bearing up in
the shadows with an ear cocked under the muslin screen o
his window. The man himself was in full cry, and I ca^ the end of it.
"... less suitable for such delicate work, I cannot co^ ceive! His conduct with the Sikh leaders was irrespons"^ to a degree - taking it upon himself to determine poW'
mere junior political officer, flown with self-esteem "Thank
God he did," says good old Paddy.
"Very well. Sir Hugh! Fortune favoured us, but his
nduct might have brought us to catastrophe! I tell you 00 , ^e man's a swaggerer! No," says this splendid and w.sighted statesman, "Flashman shall not go to
Lahore!"
"He must!" retorted Lawrence, for whom I was conceiving
a poisonous dislike. "Who else can pass as a
native, speaking Punjabi, and knows the ins and outs of
Lahore Fort? And the little Maharaja worships him,
Harlan tells me." He paused. "Besides, the Maharani
Jeendan has asked for him by name."
"What's that to the point?" cries Hardinge. "If she
wishes her child safe, it is all one whom we send!"
"Perhaps not, sir. She knows Flashman, and . . ."
Lawrence hesitated. "The fact is, there is a bazaar rumour
that she ... ah, formed an attachment for him, while he
was in Lahore." He coughed and hummed. "As you
know, sir, she is a very lovely young woman ... of an
ardent nature, by all accounts ..."
"Good God!" cries Hardinge. "You don't mean "
"The young devil!" chuckles Paddy. "Oh, well,
decidedly he must go!"
'We'd best not neglect anything that will dispose her
well to us," says Van Cortlandt, damn him. "And as
Lawrence says, there is no one else."
Eavesdropping fearfully, my mind filled with the horrid
prospect of Lahore and its gridirons and ghastly bath- "^oms and Akali fanatics and murderous swordsmen, I wuldn't help recalling that Broadfoot had counted on my '"""y charms just as these calculating wretches were ""ng- It's too bad ... but if you're hell's delight with the la"' sex, what would you?
,_ no doubt it's what persuaded that pious hypocrite ^e, with his mind fixed on political accommoda-
ch ^r the war" By au means let F^oy humour the mid'^ he P11"*011 her bloody infant to safety, and ant she be obliged to us, just? He didn't say as
283
much, but you could hear him thinking it as he gave hi, reluctant consent.
"But hear me, Lawrence - Flashman must understand
that he is to proceed in strict accordance to your instructions.
He must have no room for independent action of
any kind whatsoever - is that clear? This fellow Harlan
has brought directions from ... what is his name, Gardner?
- a fine business, when we must rely on such people,
let alone this hare-brained political! You must question
Harlan closely on how it is to be effected. Above all, no
harm must befall the young prince, Flashman must understand
that - and the consequences should he fail."
"I doubt if he needs instruction on that head, sir," says
Lawrence, pretty cool. "For the rest, I shall give him careful directions." -^ J
"Very well. I shall hold you responsible. You have an
observation. Sir Hugh?"
"Eh? No, no, Son- Hinry, nothin' of consequence, I
was just after thinkin'," chuckles old Paddy, "that I wish
I was young again, an' spoke Punjabi." 4|
.--
^
--&
284
life"; You never can say you've seen anything
Lr the last time. I'd have laid a million to one that I'd not
return to that little stand of white poplars south of the
Moochee Gate where I'd sat by the fire with Gardner - yet ^ere I was, only a few weeks later, with the flames cracking
under the billy-can resting on the self-same red stone
with the crack in it. To our right the road was busy with
the wayfarers of daybreak; under the great Moochee arch dbe gates were swung back, they were dousing the night
Birches, and the guard was changing: an uncommon heavy
one, it seemed to me, for I counted twenty helmets in and bout the archway, and since our arrival in the small hours
mere had been endless cavalry patrols circling the city
walls, red lancers with green puggarees, and great activity
_fmatchlockmen on the parapets.
I "Muslim brigade," says Jassa. "Yes, sir, she's got this
old town laced up tighter'n Jemima's stays. Waste o' time,
Jany plotters'!! be on the inside - prob'ly in the Fort
, among her own people. Say, I bet Alick Gardner's lin> light, though!"
as our third morning on the road, for we had taken a ^-cast south, crossing the Sutlej at a ghat near
cle ^e to avold any enemy river watchers, and keep
Aro ^f the ^^B'8 main traffic on the "PP*^ road "gh Pettee to Sobraon. We'd ridden in cautious
J"^'Jassa and I and a trusted Pathan ruffian of Broad;nd
^y^ard, Ahmed Shah; Gough had wanted to
a^.an ^C. squadron disguised as gorracharra, but nce had turned it down flat, insisting that they'd be
285
bound to give themselves away, and anyway, if all went
well three would be enough, while if it went ill a brigade
would be too few. No one would give any heed to three
obvious Afghan horse-copers with a string of beasts - and
thus far, no one had.
I shan't weary you with my emotions as we waited
shivering in the frosty dawn, round our fire. I'll say only
that in addition to the blue funk I felt at the mere sight of
Lahore's frowning gates and brooding towers, I had the
liveliest misgivings about the plan whereby we were to ^b spirit young Dalip out of the cobra's nest. It was GardH
ner's invention, lined out precisely to Jassa, who had
repeated it to Lawrence and Van Cortlandt with Rashy palpitating attentively, and since our tartan Pathan wasn't
there to be argued with, it was a case of take it or leave it.
I know which I'd ha' done, but Lawrence had said it
should serve admirably - he wasn't going to be the one^l
sneaking in and out of Lahore Fort in broad daylight, after H
all. 
That seemed to me an unnecessary lunacy: why the
devil couldn't Gardner, with all his powers as governor,
have contrived to smuggle the brat out to us? Jassa had
explained that the city was tight as a tanner by night, and
the punches' spies had their eye on little Dalip most of tbe^^ day; the only hour to lift him was his bedtime, to be outH and away before curfew, and have all night to make^ tracks. And we must go into the Fort to do it, for bn mother wouldn't rest unless she saw him placed under my
protective wing. (They'd all avoided my eye at this. myself, I hadn't liked the sound of it above half.) as'
our coming and going at the Fort, Gardner would P1'0""*', all we need do was be in the vicinity of Runjeet's Toffib
noon of this, the third day. .,
So now you see three Kabuli copers herding their be
through the dust and bustle of the Rushnai Gate, n, setting up shop in a crowded square by the BuggY-^ Cloudy at midday. Ahmed Shah cried our wares, "
286
exorbitant prices, since the last thing we wanted was to
sell our transport, and I held the brutes' heads and spat
and looked ugly, praying that no one would recognise
jassa with a patch over his eye, and his hair and five-day
beard dyed orange. He had no such fears, but loafed
about freely with the other idlers, gossiping; as he said, .there's no concealment like open display.
Bl didn't see the touch made, but presently he ambled
off, and I passed the halters to Ahmed and followed
across the great square by the marble Barra Deree to the
palace gateway where I'd first seen Gardner months
before. There were no Palace Guards on the parapet now,
only green-jacketed Muslim musketeers with great curling
moustachioes, watchful as vultures, who scowled down at
the crowds loitering in the square. There must have been
several thousand gathered, and enough Sikhs in assorted
Khalsa coats among them to set my innards churning; they
did nothing but stare up at the walls, muttering among
themselves, but you could feel the sullen hostility hanging
;r the place like a cloud.
'She ain't venturing abroad this weather, I reckon," murmurs Jassa as I joined him in the lee of the gateway.
'Yep, there's a sizeable Republican majority right here.
Our guide is right behind us, in the paiki; when I give the
nod, we'll tote it through the gate."
1 glanced over my shoulder; there was a paiki, with its (:urtains drawn, set down by the wall, but no bearers in ^ght. So that was how we were to get past the gate guard,
o were questioning all incomers; even under my posh- m }cou^ feel the sweat icy on my skin, and for the
-entleth time I fingered the Cooper hidden in my sash -
a^-,.at svt shots would buy much elbow-room if we came
All ^
babhl a su^en ^ mutter of the crowd grew to a
way f6^ ^len to a rosr'' ^Y were gi^ng back to make
^"are^.3 *50^^ ^ Inarchmg men advancing across the "from the Hazooree gate on the town side - Sikhs
L
287
almost to a man, from half the divisions of the Khalsa. some of them with bandaged wounds and powder buna on their coats, but swinging along like Guardsmen behind
their golden standard which, to my amazement, was borne
by the white-whiskered old rissaldar-major I'd seen at
Maian Mir, and again at Jeendan's durbar. And he was weeping, so help me, the tears running down to his beard, his eyes fixed ahead - and there behind him was Imam
Shah, he of the ivory knives, bare-headed and with his arm in a sling. I was in behind Jassa double-quick, I can
tell you. ;;
The crowd were in a frenzy, waving and wailing and
yelling: "Khalsa-ji! Khalsa-ji!", showering them with
petals as they marched by, but not a man so much as
glanced aside; on they went, in column of fours, under the
palace archway, with the mob surging behind up to the
gate, taking up another cry: "See Delhi! See Delhi,
heroes of the Khalsa! Wa Guru-ji - to Delhi, to London!"
"Now, who the hell are they?" whispers Jassa. "I guess
maybe we got here just in time -1 hope! Come on!"
We laid hold on the paiki and shouldered our way
through the mob to the gateway, where a Muslim subedar* barred our way and stooped to question our
passenger. I heard a woman's voice, quick and indistinct,
and then he had waved us on, and we carried the pw0 through the gate - and for all my dread at re-entering that
fearsome den, I found myself remembering Stumps Harrowell,
who'd been the chairman at Rugby when I was a
boy, and how we'd run after him, whipping his enorm^ fat calves, while he could only rage helplessly between m
shafts. You should see your tormentor now, Stump- thinks I; hoist with his own paiki, if you like. ^
Our passenger was calling directions to Jassa, WDO. g between the front shafts, and presently we bore up
little secluded court, and out she jumped, walking <1"1
*Senior subaltern.
low doorway which she unlocked, motioning us to
w. She led us up a long, dim passage, several nights of
^1 and more passages - and then I knew where we
s ,' I had been conducted along this very way to
^eendan's rose boudoir, and I knew that pretty little rump
sdrring under the tight sari...
"Manela!" says I, but she only beckoned us on, to a
little ill-furnished room where I'd never been. Only when
she had the door closed did she throw off her veil, and I
I looked again on that lovely Kashmiri face with its slanting
gazelle eyes - but there was no insolence in them now,
only fear.
"What's amiss?" snaps Jassa, scenting catastrophe.
"You saw those men of the Khalsa - the five hundred?"
Her voice was steady enough, but quick with alarm.
Jttey are a deputation from Tej Singh's army - men of
RMdkee and Ferozeshah. They have come to plead with
jthe Rani for arms and food for the army, and for a leader
^Tke Tej's place, so that we may still sweep the Jangi lat
k to the gates of Delhi!" The way she spat it out, you
j d have wondered which side she was on; even traitors
lave patriotic pride, you see. "But they were not to
audience of the durbar until tomorrow - they have
i before their time!" ' ^
Well, what of it?" says I. "She can fob them off -
itcs done it before!"
^ey were not a beaten army then. They had not been
Tdefeat by Tej and Lal - or learned to mistrust Mai
ff herself. Now, when they come to durbar and find
j-^ es ringed in by Muslim muskets, and call to her
r which she cannot give them - what then? They are
ri?heeS1'and ^P61"^-" She shrugged. "You say she
lord ed them before ~ ^iye' but she is not S1^11 to
k the mese days- she fears for DaliP and nerself, she
L"01^ for Jawaheer's sake pnd Fhe feeds her
Wcken'0 >s ^e to answer their mutinous clamour
g their faces for them - and who knows what
289
they mav do if she provokes them?" But all this was small beer beside the menace of the
Red murder like as not - and then we'd have sons Khalsa deputies. Could she hocus them again, by playing
usurper displacing Tej Singh and reviving the Khalsa for her charms and beguiling them with sweet words and fair
another slap at us. And here was I, back on the lion's lip, promises? ^
. . .- a^at^ idint olots ... should I throw in now, WeB, she didn't even try, as we saw when Mangia
returned, after two hours of fretful waiting, to conduct us
to that same spyhole from which I'd watched an earlier
durbar. This was a different indaba* altogether; then,
there had been tumult and high spirits, laughter even, but
now we heard the angry clamour of the deputation and
her shrill replies even before we reached the eyrie, when I
---. ,*  ^in^no that thic was an nolv business, with the
another slap at us. Ana nerc waa *, ^,-- _
thanks to Gardner's idiot plots ... should I throw in no
and bolt for India? Or could we stai get Dalip out before
all hell broke loose ...? - ? , "When's the durbar?" ^ j
"In two hours, perhaps." ^% ||
"Can Gardner bring the boy to us beforehand ...
uci auiui Av^u^j w t * >-,^_, ... ^ _..___.
"S ""'^Run in daylight?" cries Jassa. "We'd never maiw w saw at a glance that this was an ugly business, with the
Manda shook her head "The Maharaja must be seea Mother of All Sikhs on her highest horse and damn the
at the durbar Who knows, Mai Jeendan may answer to consequences.
well enough - and if she fails, they may still be quiet, wA The five hundred were in uproar in the main body of the
a thousand Muslims ready to fall on them at a word iron great hall before the durbar screen, but keeping their
r,i,rdana Khan Then, when you have seen Mai Jew _nks, and it was easy to see why. They were wearing their uuraa, B^^", but round the walls of the chamber there must
"t rinn't need to see her - or anyone, except her blastedhave been a full battalion of Muslim riflemen, with their
i Ten Gardner -" JM^^ at the high P011' P"^ and "^ Imam shah was "Why here's a change!" says she, with a flash of ^^g forward, addressing the screen, with the old ris-
old Manda "You were eager enough once. ^."S'^0!' a pace behind; the golden standard ^ wishes to see you, Flashman bahadur, and she ^U ba< wore the throne on which little Dalip sat in lonely state,
Srway-" 3 ^se^ in crimson' and with the KohiNOO^
;S^f^^."^ gave her ^^an;6^?^ -re M^ ^ed the walls,
smile "Meanwhile, you must wait; you are safe !_ p^10"- them stood Gardner, m his tartan fig, the
S'teUGurdana. and bring word when the <N"g ^ofhis naked sabre resting between his feet. Close
herins " nttoir? ^m timJT1 Jeendan was Pa01^ to and fro, pausing
And she slipped out, having added bewilde"neni  "me to time to listen, then resuming her furious
fears What ooSd Jeendan want with me? Id tbo^ ^^g _for she was in a great rage, and well Sat Ae time. her insistence that I should be ^,, ^,^lnhqu^ by the look of her. She had a cup in .^.r - in he sure. the kid liked me. but she d ^ ^ | ^^^S,w on the table, but for once she was
made me a condition of the plan, to Paddy Gougn ,^|^ ^ in T"^ modest' b"^^' as a ^"Ptuous doll
amusement. Coarse old brute. But it o)uldn to ' ' - -- -- -- ---- such a time .. . mind you, with partial females,.
can tell, especially when they're foxed.
unbound to her shoulders, and that Delilah face unveik^B
Imam Shah was in full grievance, shouting hoarsely"^ the screen. "For three days your faithful Khalsa hae
lived on grain and raw carrots - they are starving kunwari, and eaten up with cold and want! Only sad
them the food and munitions you promised and theyvjj sweep the host of the Jangi lat to -" ^i
"Sweep them as you swept them at Ferozeshah aid
Moodkee?" cries Jeendan. "Aye, there was a fine sweeping
- my waiting women could have swept as heartilyH She waited, head thrown back, for the effect of this. Ina^l
stood in silent anger, and she went on: "Goolab has wlH
you supplies enough - why, every wheat-porter in Krihmir
makes an endless train from Jumoo to the ri
laden -" ::
She was drowned in a roar of derision from tbef
hundred, and Imam advanced a yard to bawl his answ
"Aye, in single file, on pain of mutilation by the Gold
Hen, who makes a brave show of assistance, but sendsi
breakfast for a bird! Chiria-ki-hazri! That's what we ( from Goolab Singh! If he wishes us well, let him comeij
lead us, in place of that bladder of lard you made r
general! Bid him come, kunwari - a word from you>1 he'll be in the saddle for Sobraon!"
Uproar followed - "Goolab! Goolab! Give us
Dogra for general!" - but still they kept their ranks.
"Goolab is under the heel of the Maiki lat, an" know it!" snaps Jeendan. "Even so, there are ^ among you who would make him Maharaja - 1D?.
Khalsa!" There was silence on the instant. "You seo^ ambassadors, they tell me ... aye, in breach 
sacred oath! You whine for food on the one b .g'p make treason on the other - you, the ^^^'(.gin
. .." And she reviled them in fishwife terms,assa^ Maian Mir, until Gardner stepped swifty ^^^k
caught her by the arm. She shook him off, bu ^ hint - and none too soon, for beyond the sere

292
^

hindred were fingering their hilts, and Imam was" black
ith fury'"That
is a lie, kunwartt No man here would serve
Goolab as Maharaja - but he can fight, by God! He does
not skulk in his tent, like Tej, or flee like your bed-man
Lai! He can lead - so let him lead us! To Delhi! To
victory!"
She let the shouting die, and spoke in a cold voice,
ringing with scorn: "I have said I will not have Goolab
Singh - and he will not have you} Who's to blame him?
Are you worth having, you heroes who strut out to battle
with your banners and brave songs - and crawl back
whimpering that you are hungry? Can you do nothing but
complain-" ,< /;?
"We can fight!" roars a voice, and in a moment they
were echoing it, stirring forward in their ranks, shaking
their fists, some even weeping openly. They'd come for
supplies, and what they were getting was shame and
pit. Keep a civil tongue in your head, can't you, I was
Bspering, for it was plain they'd had their fill of her wa^' "Give us guns! Give us powder and shot!"
Powder and shot!" cries Jeendan, and for a moment I
I'ght she was going to be out and at them. "Did I not wyou both, and to spare? Arms and food and great
at"^^ was sucn an armv seen in Hindoostan! And ^did you make of it? The food you've guzzled, the
L , ave yur great guns, and the arms you flung
tp F1011"11^, as you ran cheeping like mice - from
eg from a tired old man in a white coat with a handful
^rvoi lnfidels and Ben^ sweepers!"
>chg(jlce rose to a shriek as she faced the curtain, fists
Jassa ace ^ntorted, and foot stamping - and beside
ran^ ^P^ and Mangia gave a little sob as we saw ;1 Slitter- five hundred start forward, and there was
" slu?8 ^""gst them. She'd gone too far, the
are s or Imam shah was on the dais'the Khalsa '""glog behind him, shouting with rage, Gard-
293
ner was turning to snap an order, the Muslim musk... were dropping to the present - and Jeendan was nimbr
beneath her skirt, swearing like a harpy, there was areiS ing of cloth, and in an instant she had whirled her Detti. coat into a ball and hurled it over the screen. It (en Imam's feet, draping over his boot - there was no dori ing what it was, and in the shocked silence her voice ra
out: ^
"Wear that, you cowards! Wear it, I say! Or I'll goi
trousers and fight myself!" |
It was as though they'd been stricken by a spell. Wha
you could count ten there wasn't a sound. I see theinyet|
an Akali, his sword half-out, poised like a gladiato
statue; Imam Shah staring down at the scarlet shift; (
old rissaldar-major, mouth open, hands raised in disna
little Dalip like a graven image on his throne; the ma
men still as death, staring at the screen - and then I
Shah picked up the golden standard, raised it,
shouted in a voice of thunder:
"Dalip Singh Maharaja! We go to die for your i
dom! We go to die for the Khalsa-jiV Then he ac
almost in a whisper, though it carried round the hall: "^ will go to the sacrifice."
He thrust the standard into the rissaldar-major's 1
and in that moment, unprompted, little Dalip stood
second's pause, and the whole five hundred n
"Maharaja! Maharaja! Khalsa-jiV Then they tun
one man and marched out of the open double
behind them. Gardner was at the corner of t^'le.scrw^(|) four quick strides, staring after them, then coming 'y take Dalip's hand. Behind the purdah, ^^^^^v shook her red hair and stirred her shoulders aswo yy ease them, took a deep drink, and began to siraig"
sari. Ai-ckC^ Now that is exactly what I saw, and so did ah ^j
ner, as his memoirs testify - and neither of us can ^^. i
it. Those Khalsa fanatics, stung to madness by "K
294
I
. ugve rushed the purdah and cut her down, I'm
. and been slaughtered by the Muslims; God knows
would have followed. But she threw her petticoat at
_ gnd they went out like lambs, prepared to do or die.
L'ition" on her part, Gardner calls it; very well, it did ,
Lisiness. Mind you, young Dalip stood up at exactly
ight time.43
assa was breathing relief, and Mangia was smiling.
[wiis came a series of thunderous crashes as the ;
slims ordered arms and began to file out of the chamLittle
Dalip was behind the purdah, being enfolded in
na's tipsy embrace, but Gardner had disappeared.
igia touched my arm, and signing to Jassa to wait, led
up to the rose boudoir -1 felt exhausted even looking
- and through to the passage beyond and a little room ;
ch I guessed must be the schoolroom of Dalip and his
ffellows, for there were half a dozen little desks, and a
;kboard, and even a globe, and fairy-tale pictures on
walls. There she left me, and a moment later Gardner
^de in, breathing fire and wonder.
You saw that just now? Goddam, but that woman's a
treat for nerve - a bearcat, sir! Petticoats, by thunder! I
"Idn't ha' credited it! Sometimes I think . . ." He
^d. eyeing me with a curious frown. "... I think
s a mite de-ranged, what with drink and . . . well, no
"" And George Broadfoot's dead? Well, that's hard
"ng. You didn't see it? Well, you have one as good in
^^wrence, let me tell you that. Maybe even better,
Wnt. Not a better man, mind you. No, sir, they
^nie better than the Black-coated Infidel."
^standing, arms akimbo, staring at the floor, and
^disturbance - not because he hadn't greeted me,
nj rence to "^y recent adventures, for that was
he 2- ^ut tnere was something on his mind, for ;
pa,*"^to cover ^ with a show of briskness. ^
<for ur' and you and Josiah must be clear of the
slx- You'll go as you came, bearing the paiki,
295
but this time Dalip will be your freight, dressed;
My subedar will have the palace gate, so you'll becT^
there. Once beyond the Rushnai, keep to the doab a'
south-east, and dawn should see you at Jupindar'- if
about forty miles, and not on the map, but you'll ^
clear enough. It's a big cluster of black rocks, among to*
hillocks, the only ones for miles around. There you'llbe
met -" _
"By whom? Our people? Gough wanted to -" H
"By sure people." He gave me a hard stare. "Allya
need do is get that far - and I don't have to tell you ti|
you're carrying the Punjab on your back. Whoever gec|
that boy, it must not be the Khalsa, mallumf He's agooil
little horseman, by the way, so you can keep up the pace.
Dawn, at Jupindar, mind that. Due south-east andyoal
fall over it." || ;  ' J
For the first time, I felt excitement rather than fear.lH
had it pat, and it would do. We were going to bring it (Al
"What else?" says he. "Ah, yes, one thing ... 1
Josiah Harlan. I gave him a bad name to you, and!
deserved every word. But I allow he's played a straf"
hand this time, and I incline to revise my opinion. T
being the case, you'd better keep a closer eye on him"
ever. Well, that's all, I guess ..." He paused, avcmy eye. "Once you've paid your respects to the Man
. . . you can be off."
Now there was something up. Gardner uneasy'
sight I'd never thought to see, but he was scratcbmSj
grizzled beard and keeping his face averted, an0
strange foreboding. He cleared his throat. ^
"Ah ... did Mangia say nothing to you? No.v
oh, dooce take it!" He looked me full in the faceJeendan wants to marry you! There, now!" . jj
Heaven knows why, my first reaction was to 1 J
mirror on the classroom wall. A fierce-eyed iW ^j
fian stared back at me, which was no ^P'.'-rfd.
recollection of what I looked like when civ111'-
oossibly the Punjab had exhausted my capacity for
Istonishment, for once the first shock of that amazing
Biroposal had been absorbed, I felt nothing but immense gratification - after all, it's one thing to win a maiden
heart, and very fine, but when a man-eater who's sampled
the best from Peshawar to Poona cries "Eureka!" over
you, well, it's no wonder if you glance at the mirror. At
the same time, it's quite a facer, and my first words, possibly
instinctive, were:
H "Christ, she ain't pregnant, is she?" i% ^
"How the devil should I know?" cries Gardner, ^stonished. "On my word! Now, sir, I've told you! So ^Rhereyouare!"
"Well, she can't! I'm married, dammit!" -;:*- ^ "I know that - but she does not, and it's best she should
not ... for the moment." He glared at me, and took a
turn round the room, while I sank on to one of the infants'
stools, which gave way beneath me. Gardner swore,
yanked me to my feet, and thrust me into the teacher's
chair. sSsf
"See here, Mr Flashman," says he, "this is how it is.
Mai Jeendan is a woman of strange character and damned "egular habits, as you're well aware - but she's no fool. ^or years now she's had it in mind to marry a British
ffioer, as security for herself and her son's throne. Well, raat's sound policy, especially now when Britain's hand is
n the Punjab. For months past - this is sober truth - her gents m India have been sending her portraits of eligible ^ She's even had young Hardinge's likeness in her
weiiolr> (JO^ ^p mel ^s y011^aov/'sne nas y01""own ~
(a scn^88 the only one she took to Amritsar' and the rest ^ re of ^m) have been with the lumber ever since."
"ing to say to that, of course. I kept a straight face,
--L^ took station in front of me, mighty stem. ;
Bin ^J^'lt>s ""P0^1"^- You have a wife, and even
^^onsri t) ^ ^are saw y011^ not care to pB58 v01"" ^y5
^^~ ^n to an Eastern queen. Myself, while I admire her
^^ 297
many good qualities," says he with feeling, "I'd not hitch
with Jeendan for all the cotton in Dixie, so help me Hannah!
But she has a deep fondness for you - and this is no E611ffi time to blight that affection! Northern India's in the
balance, and she's the pivot - steady enough, but not to be
disturbed ... in any way." He stooped suddenly and
seized my wrist, staring into my eyes, grim as a frost giant.
"So when you see her presently . .. you will not disappoint
her hopes. Oh, she'll make no direct proposal -
that's not Punjabi royal style. But she'll sound you out probably
offer you employment in Sikh service, for after
the war - with a clear hint of her intentions ... to all of
which you'd best give eager assent - for all our sakes,
especially your own. Hell hath no fury, you remember."
He let go, straightening up. "I guess you know how
to . . ."
"Jolly her along? Oh, aye ... by God, it's a rum go,
though! What'U happen later, when she finds I ain't a
starter?"
"The war'll be over then, and it won't signify," says he
bleakly. "I dare say she'll get over it. Dirty game, politics
. . . she's a great woman, you know, drunk and all as she
is. You ought to be nattered. By the by, have you any
aristocratic kinfolk?" ; '^.
"My mother was a Paget."
"Is that high style? Better make her a duchess, then- Mai Jeendan likes to think that you're a lord - after all,
she was once married to a Maharaja."44
As it happened, my lineage, aristocratic and otherwi ^ was not discussed in the rose boudoir, mainly ^eca there wasn't time. When Gardner had spoken of not "w
appointing her, I'd supposed (and have no d011^1.1^.,!,;
meant) that I must not dash her hopes of beconui1? js Flashman; accordingly, I bowled in prepared to ^
p.Ychflnoft nf nnds anrl hprli-s and rr>v Mushes OH "^ r i
exchange of nods and becks and coy blushes on tier v and ardent protestations on mine. Only when
blinking in the dark, and two plump arms
from behind, that familiar drunken chuckle sounded in my
ear and she turned up the lamp to reveal herself clad only
in oil and bangles, did I suspect that further proof of my
devotion was required. "I liked you better shaven,"
whispers she (which settled that), and Dalip or no Dalip,
there was nothing for it but to give eager consent, as
Gardner had put it. Luckily she was no protractor of the
capital act, as I knew, and I didn't even need to take my
boots off; a quick plunge round the room, horse artillery
style, and she was squealing her soul out, and then it was
back to the wine-cup and exhausted ecstatic sighs, mingled
with tipsy murmurs about the loneliness of widowhood
and what bliss it would be to have a man about the
house again.. . fairly incoherent, you understand, but not
to be misunderstood, so I responded with rapturous
endearments.^ ??,
"You will abide with me always?" whispers she, nuzzling
in, and I said I'd like to see anyone stop me, just.
Did I love her truly? Well, to be sure I did. She muttered
something about writing to Hardinge, and I thought, by
George, that'll spoil his toast and coffee for him, no error,
but mostly it was fond drunken babble and clinging kisses, before she turned over and began to snore.
"ell, that's that, and you've done your duty, thinks I, as I repaired the sweet disorder in my dress and slid out - ^th a last backward glance at that jolly rump glistening m the lamplight. I imagined, you see, that I was looking
ast on her, and I do like to carry away happy
Inones ~ but twenty minutes later, when Jassa and I
re fretting impatiently in the schoolroom, and Gard--"as
damning Mangla's tardiness in bringing young sod ^t'1"1 comes a waiting woman to say that the kunwari k>m e^a^araja were awaiting us in her drawing1
th B was a ^me apartment close by the boudoir, uere.^yas the Mother of All Sikhs, enthroned in
i sau, lr' as ^pectable a young matron as ever
' and not more than half-soused; how the deuce
299
she'd got into parade order in the time was beyond rj She was soothing young Dalip, who was standing by ina
black fury and a child's sari, with veil and bangles and a
silk shawl round his small shoulders. ;J S
"Don't look at me!" cries he, turning his face as^
and she petted him and kissed away his tears, whispering ^J
that he must be a Maharaja, for he was going among the ^B
White Queen's soldiers, and must do credit to his house
and people. ? a "And this goes with you, the symbol of your kingship,"
says she, and held out a silver locket, with the great Koh-iNoor
glittering in a bed of velvet. She closed the case and
hung its chain about his neck. "Guard it well, dearest, for
it was your father's treasure, and remains your people's
honour."
"With my life, mama," sobs he, and hung upon hei
neck. She wept a little, holding him close, and then stood |
up and led him to me. |
"Flashman sahib will take care of you," says she, "sol
mind you obey him in all things. Farewell, my little prince,! my own darling." She kissed him and put his hand inl
mine. "God speed you, sahib - until we meet again." She! extended a hand, and I kissed it; one warm, glassy low she gave me, with that little curl of her thick lips; she was
swaying slightly, and her waiting woman had to step lively
to steady her.
Then Gardner was bustling us away, with Jassa carrying
Dalip for greater speed, and it was bundle-and-go down to
the paiki in the little court, with Mangia at my e100" insisting that his majesty must eat no oranges, for w I gave him the trots, and here was a lotion for the rash his arm, and a letter for the governess who m1151 ,
engaged for him in India - "a Kashmiri lady, ge""6 a.^ well-read, if one can be found, but not some stern VQV,^ mem-sahib, for he is but a little fellow; I have wntte of his diet and his lessons." Kidnapping ain't just aInatt! lifting the infant, you see, and on my other side Gal
300 1
.oas snarling that the gates would be closing in half an
hour. We bundled Dalip into the paiki, and now he was
blubbering that he didn't want to go, and clinging to
Mangia, and Gardner was fuming while two of his black tobes scouted ahead to see that all was clear, and Jassa
land I got between the shafts, and Mangia kissed me
(middy on the cheek, leaving a drift of perfume as she
hurried away, and Gardner turned to me in the fading
light of the little court.
"Due south-east, forty miles, Jupindar rocks," snaps
he. "I guess we won't see you in Lahore again, Mr Flashman.
If I was you, I'd stay well south of the Sutlej for the
next fifty years or so. And that goes double for you, Josiah
- you stretched your luck, doctor; come nigh me again and
I'm liable to snap it for you! Jao t^
"Yes, you an' the Continental Congress!" retorts
Jassa. "Go change your sentries, Gardner - that's your
sort!"
"/ao, I say!" growls Gardner, and the last I remember
of him is the brown hawk face with its fierce moustache,
twisted in a sour grin under the tartan puggaree.
We came down to the Buggywalla Cloudy just as the sun
was dipping behind the Badshai Musjit mosque, through
_^- bustling noisy crowds all unaware that the two stalwart
B^i-bearers were spiriting their ruler away to the enemy, and ^ moping fretfully behind the curtains in his little san and bangles. Ahmed Shah was in a foul humour "ccause he'd had to sell two of our beasts, leaving only
e besides our own screws, which meant only one ^mount tor the four of us. We slung the paiki between
k0,01 ^e led horses, and when I put my head in to see
."^P did, he whimpered something piteous.
iaem '.^^^^ sahib - when can I put off these gar^ f shame? See, Mangia has put my man's clothes in
i-^" ^ye, and cakes and little sweets! She always '"hers," says he, and his lip came out. "Why could ^me with us? Now I shall have no song before I
301
sleep!" And he began to weep. "I wish Mangia were
here!"
Mangia, you'll note, not Mama. Well, I'd not have
turned her away myself. "See here, maharaj'," whispers
I, "you'll put on your own clothes directly, and ride with
us like a soldier, but now you must stay close and quiet.
And when we come to journey's end - see what I have for
you!" I was far enough within the paiki to slip the Cooper
from my sash for an instant, and he squeaked and fell back
on the cushions, covering his eyes in joy. |
We passed under the Rushnai arch even as the cho~i
kidars were crying the curfew, and skirted the city walls to I
the little stand of white poplars, crimson in the last of the
sunset. In the gloaming they were beyond eyeshot of the
gate, and we lost no time in rousting out little Dalip, for
wanted him in the saddle without delay, so that we could
abandon the cumbersome paiki and put distance between
us and Lahore.
He tumbled out eagerly, tearing off his sari and veil and
scattering his bangles with childish curses, and was shiver
ing in his vest while Jassa helped him into his little jodh
purs, when there was a clatter of hooves, and out of tin deepening dusk came a troop of gorracharra, making for
the city in haste before the gates closed. There was no
time to hide the imp; we must stand pat while they cantered
by - and then their officer reined up, staring at the
sight of a half-clad infant surrounded by three burty
copers and their beasts.
"Where away at this hour, horse-sellers?" cries he.
I answered offhand, hoping to keep him at a distant for even in the fading light it was ten to one he'd wwff" his own monarch if he came any closer, a ^.
"Amritsar, captain sahib!" says I. "We take my _ ter's son to his grandmother, who is ill, and calls f01' Hurry, Yakub, or the child will catch cold!" This w)^ who was helping Dalip into his coat, and thrusting "I ^ into the saddle. I swung aboard my own screw, wl
(|rt pounding, ignoring the officer, hoping to heaven the
inauisitive brute would ride on after his troop, who had
vanished into the twilight.
"Wait!" He was sitting forward, staring harder than
ever - and with a thrill of horror I realised that Dalip's
coat was his ceremonial cloth of gold, packed by that
imbecile Mangia, and even in that uncertain light proclaiming
its wearer a most unlikely companion for three
frontier ruffians. "Your master's son, you say? Let's have
a look at him!" He wheeled his horse towards us, his hand
dropping to his pistol butt - and the three of us acted as
one man. y ^/
Jassa vaulted into his saddle and snatched Dalip's bridle
even as I slashed my reins across the beast's rump, and
Ahmed Shah dug in his heels and charged slap into the
advancing Sikh, rolling him from the saddle. Then we
were away across the maidan, Dalip and Jassa leading,
Ahmed and I behind, with the led horses thundering
alongside. There was a shout from the dusk, and the crack
of a shot, and little Dalip yelled with delight, dragging his
bridle from Jassa's grip. "I can ride, fellow! Let me alone!
Ai-ee, shabash, shabashr s ;
There had been nothing else for it, with detection wrtain, and as I pulled out my compass and roared to Jassa to change course to port, I was reckoning that no
ht^ harm had been done. We were on fresh horses, '""ue the gorracharra had been in the saddle all day; it
_ - ^fi time to mount any kind of pursuit from the city m "^o^g they thought it worth while, with night com'
'own; the "dds were they'd make inquiry first to see if
coud of a wealthy family was missing, for I was sure
we h^ had taken us for common kidnappers - he'd
is '^"^ed a shot at us if he'd known who Dalip
vereri i, ^ some astonishing chance, it was diser
rt. that the ^hajara had taken wing - well, we'd be
I canj1^ and far away by then.
eu a halt after the first couple of miles, to tighte
303
girths, take stock, and make certain of my bearing, and
then we rode on more slowly. It was pitch dark by now
and while we might have trotted on a road we daren't go
above a brisk walk over open country. The moon
wouldn't be up for six or seven hours yet, so we must
contain ourselves in the sure knowledge that the dark was
our friend, and no pursuers could hope to find us while it
- *----.,,i,;io wp. bore on south-east, with Dalip
rsuers in my time - Apaches in the Jomada, Udloko Stilus on the veldt, Cossacks along the Arrow of Arabat, Amazons in the Dahomey forest, Chink hatchetmen
through the streets of Singapore ... no wonder my hair's
fhite. But there are times when you should pause and
IKsider, and this was one. No one was riding the Bari
Doab that night for recreation, so it was a fair bet that the ^auisitive officer had deduced who our costly-clad infant
. ^i-~* ^,^rv nHpr from the Lahore garrison was
contain ourselves in .*"- --our
friend, and no pursuers could hope to find us while it uoao iu^ ."er-
lasted. Meanwhile we bore on south-east, with Dalip luuisitive officer had deduced who our costly-clad intant
asleep in the crook of my arm - what with distress and Bfc, and that every rider from the Lahore garrison was ' - -, ^,,up used up, i - - ''-- t._ ^,on,ni the land from Kussoor to Amritsar. Still, we had
asleep in the crook of my aim - ...~elation,
he was quite used up, and being lulled by "Tom
Bowling" instead of Mangla's song didn't trouble him a
"T'1..,., .J
vhs, and that every naer irum iuc i^au^^ ^*.^^^.- .._.
sweeping the land from Kussoor to Amritsar. Still, we had
n a spare mounts, so a sprain or a cast shoe was no matter;
^^--ir pursuers must be riding blind, since even an
yo<^B^ustralian bushman couldn't have tracked us, on that ~~m^. coven miles is a long lead with only fifteen to go;
istralian ousumaii vuuiuu v ^..- --_--.
)und; seven miles is a long lead with only fifteen to go;
bit.
"Is this how soldiers sleep?" yawns he. "Then yoi?
must wake me when it is my time to ride guard, and you
d there were friends waiting at the finish. Even so, having your tail ridden is nervous work, and we didn't
nger over the next few miles, not pausing to listen, and
shall rest. . ."
It was a wearisome trek, and a cold one, hour after hour
in the freezing dark, but at least it was without alarm, and
by the time we had put twenty miles behind us I was
eeping steadily southeast.
When the moon came up we changed to our remounts;
convinced that there would be no pursuit. At about midnight
we pulled up to water the horses at a little stream,
^Amed's ear to the ground detected nothing, and there "as no movement on the plain behind us. It was fairly ^pen country now, with a few scrubby thickets, occasional
and stamp some warmth back into our limbs; there was a
faint starshine over the doab now, and I was remarking to
Jassa that we'd be able to raise the pace, when Ahffled
Shah called to us.
He was squatting down by a big peepal tree, with to
iaii ^---- "^ts of jungle, and now and then a village. When I reckJassa
that we'd be able to raise me pav., ..- we had only about five miles to go, and still three
Shah called to us. . r>ppna1 tree with his H**5 to dawn, we eased to a walk, for Dalip had awoken,
He was squatting down by a big_peepai ^ ^ __anding food, and after we'd halted for a bite and
sabre driven into the trunk just above the ground, and his
finger on the foible of the blade. I exclaimed, for I to^ I
that trick of old, from Gentleman Jim Skinner on the row I
above Gandamack. Sure enough, after a moment Ah I
shook his head, looking grim. -4 . |
"Horsemen, husoor. Twenty, perhaps thirty, cofflwl
south. They are a scant five cos behind us." |
m |
sabre driven into the 7unklustawve,,^ed for I ^ ^e was still no sign of pursuers, it seemed sensible to go - - ^ .f the blade. I exclaimed, _ ^ ^ ^^^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^^
^Pt up such a stream of questions and drivel that I ^ close to fetching him a clip over the head. I didn't, ^ou' ^or it don't pay to offend royalty, however
jW. they grow up.
E ^as still no sign of the Jupindar rocks, and I ^ ^e d come a degree or two off course, so I clim-
eh tau tree we came to' for a dekko about. The '8h atj?^ a ^^ s1^1 ^or mues around, and sure
' out three miles to our left, the ground rose in a
*
If I'm a firm believer in headlong flight as a nrie^'^ probably because I've known such a horrid variety
304 |
305
long slope to a summit of tangled rocks - Jupindar  certain. And I was just preparing to swing down ^he* took a last look astern, and almost fell out of the tree
We'd just come through a jungly strip, and behind itfli doab lay flat as a flagstone to the horizon. Halfway acra it, a bare mile away, a line of horsemen were coninei
the canter - a full troop, well spread in line. Only reguh
cavalry ride like that, and only when they're searching
I was out of that tree like a startled monkey, yelling t
Jassa, who was standing guard while young Dalip squatfcL
in the bushes - the little bastard must have had an orange
cached somewhere, for he'd done his bit three times siaB midnight. A precious minute was lost while he got himJ
to rights, bleating that he wasn't done yet, and Jassa faol
threw him into the saddle; then we were away, drumnmi
across the doab for those distant rocks where, links
Gardner had lied, friends were waiting.
There was a mile of scrub and trees before the rode
^ came into view, at the top of a long incline dotted mA
sandy hillocks - and there, far off on our flank, the first of
the pursuing horsemen were clearing the jungle. A feint
halloo sounded on the frosty air, and now it was a stnigli' race for Jupindar before they could head us off.
- It was going to be close-run, for with our south-eaa
course having carried us wide, we were having to cutb at an angle, while the pursuing troop had only to m"1 straight forrard. There was nothing in it for distance," best horsemen would be first to the post - and these w lancers; I could make out the long poles, n
Thank God little Dalip could ride. Seven years ^ spoiled, garrulous, and loose-bowelled he mightue, y he could wear my colours in the National any day. ^ flat to his beast's neck, talking to it when he wasn tsq ^ ing with excitement, his long hair flying as he t ^^ jumps over the little dry nullahs that crossed otf.^ He
led me by a length, with Jassa and Ahmed po ^ on my quarters; as we breasted the slope for we
were gaining, but there wasn't a sign of life from the te looming ahead - God, had Gardner's people failed ^the rendezvous? I loosed a warning shot from my
nnoer and in the same moment I saw Dalip's horse nimble. For a moment I thought he was gone, but there
iiist have been a dash of Cumanche in him, for he let the
ridle go, clutching the mane, the horse made a long
taeeer and recovered - but it was dead lame and hobng,
and as I swept by I swung him clear by his waistnd
heaving him across before me. Out of the tail of my
e I saw the lancers swinging up the slope a bare furlong
hind us, Jassa's pistol cracked - and dead ahead,
orious sight, riders were racing down from the Jupindar
icks, two long files at the gallop, riding wide, one circling
behind us, and the other swinging out in a great arc to
ivelop our pursuers.
I never saw it better done. There were five hundred of
m if there was one - gorracharra, by the look of them,
id going like thunderbolts. There were yells of confusion
i our rear, and as I steadied my screw and looked back,
ie lancers were closing on each other in fair disorder,
;wn neat as a cat in a bag by those two lines of irregular
orsemen, enclosing them front, flanks, and rear. Well Kt by moonlight, thinks I; you have some capable pals, wdner. Little Dalip had scrambled to a sitting position )erore "i, clapping and piping cheers at the top of his olce> aa<^ Jassa and Ahmed were reining up alongside.
hath was a hau from above and ahead of us' and l saw nouth^ was a narrow g0^ in the rocks, and at its ^.. a ^l6 knot of horsemen in mail and with lanced us ; overhead a standard was fluttering, and to the
as a burly old stager in spiked helm and steel back- east ^o raised a hand and roared a greeting.
won' maharaj'! Salaam Flashman bahadur! Sat[
^al^9zaons t00^ up the cry, advancing to meet us,
^P ^es only for their leader, grinning all over his
307
ruddy face and white whiskers, sitting his pony at ease t all that he had only one foot in the stirrup; the other' swathed in bandages, rested in a silken sling hanging from
his saddle-bow. '
"Well met again, Afghan-killer!" cries Goolab Singh.
"Sure people" would meet us, Gardner had said, andUke
a simpleton I'd taken his word without a thought. He was
such a square-shooting white man, you see, and I was so
used to thinking of him as a faithful ally and friend - well,
he'd saved my hide twice - that I'd clean overlooked that
he had other allegiances in the tangled web of Punjabi
politics. Well, he'd done me brown - and Hardinge and
Lawrence; we'd plucked Dalip Singh out of Lahore just so
that he could be dropped into the lap of the whiskered old
bandit beaming at me across the fire.
"Think not harshly of Gurdana Khan," says he soothingly.
"He has not betrayed thee - or the Maiki lot; rather has he done thee a service."
"I can see me convincing Sir Henry Hardinge of that!
says I. "Of all the double-dyed Yankee fakers "
"Nay, nay now! Only consider: Mai Jeendan, right!?
fearing for her son's safety, wished to put him un00 British protection - good! On her behalf, Gurdana Kb'" set the thing in train with your folk - good! Butthen,'
my friend and agent, he bethought him that ^'"S would be even better in the keeping of ... myself- ""^ Because once the Khalsa heard that their king ww  hands of the British, they would smell treason - aye' .
might even cut Mai Jeendan's pretty throat, and
some new Maharaja who would carry on this plag115. for years." He wagged his wicked head, ^oo^sl^^ "But now, when they learn that I, the admired--^ hold the child, they will think no evil. Why, tbe^ coin- lately offered me the throne, and the Wazirsbip.afl
j  the Khalsa, and I know not what, so well do they
nect me! But I have no such ambitions - what, to king it
Lahore, and find a quick grave like Jawaheer, and all
nse other fortunate occupants of that throne of
rnents? Not I, friend! Kashmir will do for me - the
ridsh will confirm me there, but never in Lahore "
"You think they will - after this? You've used us, and
lardner's aided and abetted you "
"And what harm is done? The child is as safe with me
> in his mother's bosom - safer, by God, there is less
affic - and when this war is over I shall have the credit of
ading him by the hand into the presence of the Maiki a!" crows the old villain. "Think of the good will I shall
am! I shall have proved my loyalty to my Maharaja and
ie British alike!"
And I'd been sneaking about Lahore Fort in peril of my
fe, conspiring and kidnapping and being hounded by Khalsa lancers, just so that this ancient iniquity could cut a
ash in the last act.
"Why the devil did Gardner have to bring us into it at
U? Couldn't you have lilted the boy for yourself?"
"Mai Jeendan would never have allowed it. She trusts
ie not," says he, shrugging, all innocent-like. "Only to
ashman bahadur would she yield up her precious ewe "nb - ah, what it is to be young and straight and lusty .. . """^h!" ^e ^"^d at me approvingly, shaking iw laughter, and refilled my cup with brandy. "Your
"' Tidier! What, we have stood together, you and I,
'&ald the cold steel sing! You'll never grudge old
the chance to stand well with your masters!" ^was gammon. For one thing, I'd no choice, and aln tact was that in Dalip, the only Maharaja accept- w Panics, he now held the trump card. He'd been
8 with us for months, while hedging his bets with , sa> and now that the dice had finally fallen in our
'ewas making sure that he could dictate his own
I--"1" Hardinge could only swallow it and look
309
IP

Will
ILllUW ^llj n^i.-.t ------ -- . - ,
^S^Sb^^"^
coffin, rather! For not a man of them shall escape . -;,----lS^?^Z th y wldow> my good"slste the Khalsa will be no more than an evil memory!' HcJ j _ ' . ,*-_.,.. , . ,
^^S^^^.^:^^^^
^^S^^^^'^'-^SST^^^
There's a point, you know, where treachery is so c^ coe this pounds 7^S'1  J ^ t ^ ars rc7 plete and unashamed that it becomes statesmanshy resting andbool^v (nug! am^ ""^^P111'131',10?8'! Given a shift of fortune, at Moodkee or Ferozeshah, ^asleep0^ Sn3^00013158 fire' with little ^P^ this genial, evil old barbarian would have been heart am,but ^^ ch^.by(Goolab had fairly groveUed ^
soul with the Khalsa, leading 'cm on to Delhi, no do^ ^ accept h0^^ t00 aggedto do nw As it was, he was ensuring their slaughter, and reveUi^ I ^nned'and^nderd^ ^' 'T. ? Khalsalancer^
^x^^^s^^^^^^^
a^^^^..^^1-^^^^^^^^
enough, with little Dalip in his hands for good ffl0"^
-- - t --^-i.,^ ,;, ,^,, nf it: any..
/
pleasant - why shouldn't he? With Dalip and Jeendaa secure in Lahore, and Goolab confirmed in Kashmir, the
north-west frontier would be safe as never before.
"And it will be only for a day or two at most," he went
on. "Then I shall take Dalip Maharaja and place him in the Sirkar's arms. Aye, Flashman, the war is done. The
Khalsa is bought and sold, and not by Tej Singh only. They
think themselves secure in their strong position at
Sobraon, where even the Jangi lot can hardly assail them,
be his guns ever so big - they still dream of sweeping on to
Delhi!" He leaned forward, grinning like a fat tiger. "And
even now, plans of those fine fortifications are on their way
to White Coat Gough - aye, by tomorrow your engineeis
will know every trench and tower, every rampart and gun
- Ll-- V-l."l<.n hlX70 Kllllt far
"" r----r-
wish I could have introduced him to Otto Bi'
matched pair they'd have made.
Well, he had shored up his credit with our
enough, with little Dalip in his hands for gooc That was his affair, and I wished him joy of it; idv^ concern was that I'd failed in my own immediate en ^ thanks to him and Gardner, and what was I goin8
Hardinge? ^  .
310
"Why, that ye had the child safe, but were hard pressed
by Khalsa riders, when in the nick of time came loy^ Goolab to snatch thee and him to safety! Is it not tru^ after all? And perforce ye must leave the lad v/it^ Goolab, who would nowise part with him, fearing for ht15 safety with all these Khalsa bravos loose about th^ country!" He chuckled and drank again, wiping hi^ whiskers; you never saw roguery so pleased with itself "It will make a brave tale ... so that ye tell it right." H^ fixed me with a meaning eye. "It will profit us all. Flash1'
man sahib."
I asked, pretty sour, how it could profit me, and he gav'^ me a leery look. "What would ye have that the King o^ Kashmir can give ... when he comes into his own? Ther^ is rich'employment, if you wish it, up yonder. Aye, and .' warm welcome from that bonny widow, my good-sister^ |Thinkonit,6flWw."

w was.,^

T^oythat.
l0 Tnv ---
y surprise, I slept sound at Jupindar, and it was^
"on when I broke the news to Dalip that he would ^ Gonung with me to the Sirkar's army after all, butt''
safe'awhile with his kinsman, Goolab Singh, until it!11
^r.him to go home to Mama. I'd expected a"^
&
311
royal tantrum, but he took it without a blink of those erea
brown eyes, nodding gravely as he looked about flx camp, aswann with Goolab's followers.
"Aye, I see how it is - they are many, and you are bin three," says he. "May I have my pistol now, HashaaB bahadurT
That rattled me, I confess. Here he was, not two chair
berpot^high, lifted in disguise from his mother's palace.
fired on and pursued through the dark and cold, left in the hands of a ruffian of whom he could have heard noting but evil - and all that concerned him was the promiiB pepperbox. No doubt Sindiawalla princelings were used|
alarm and excursion from the cradle, and God knows t
much children understand, anyway - but it struck me t
whatever faults Dalip Singh developed in later years, ft wouldn't be one of them. Quite awe-inspiring, he was.
We were standing apart from the others, while God
drank his morning toddy on a rug outside his tent, watt
ing slantendicular, and Jassa and Ahmed lounged byt
horses. I beckoned Ahmed and took out the Coop^ Dalip watching round-eyed as I drew the six load
showed him the mechanism, and set the gun in his si
fist; he had to grip well up the stock to get his (ing"' the ring.
"Ahmed Shah will keep these rounds foT 5 maharaj'," says I, "and load them at your need." ,
"I can load!" says majesty, struggling ^^^^..sf cylinder. "And I would have the pistol charged -iwv shoot thieves and badmashes with an empty toy.
I assured him there were no thieves about, aad^ < me a forty-year-old look. "And that fat bea^^ yonder, the Dogra whom you call my kinsina11- says he would steal the droppings from a goat! ^
This boded well for Goolab's guardianship' ^ "Now, see here, maharaj', Raja Goolab is y0^ and will guard you until your return to Lahore, ]' be soon. And Ahmed Shah here will bide with y
^ 312
he is a soldier of the Sirkar, and my comrade, so you must
obey him in all things." Which was stretching it, for I
hardly knew Ahmed, but he was a Broadfoot Pathan, and
the best I could do. To him I said: "On thy head,
Yusufzai," and he nodded and tapped his hilt. Dalip
looked at him critically.
"Can he help me to shoot the gun, at need? Well then,
so be it. But that great belly yonder is still a thief. I will
stay with him, and mind him, but I will not trust him. He,
may guard me and yet rob me too, because I am little."
He was examining the Cooper as he delivered his judgment,
sotto voce, on Goolab's character, but then he
stuck the pistol in his sash and spoke clear, in his shrill
treble, v |H"| .
"A gift for a gift, bahadur} Bow your head!" "% % Wondering, I stooped towards him, and to my amazement
he lifted the heavy silver locket from about his neck
md threw the chain over my head, and for a moment his
ittle arms locked tight, holding me, and I felt him tremble ad his tears suddenly wet on my face. "I will be brave! I "11 be brave, bahadurl" whispers he, sobbing. "But you oust keep it for me, till you come again to Lahore!" Then
set him down, and he stood rubbing his eyes angrily, ''"lie Goolab came limping, to apologise for intruding on
s niajesty, but it was time we were all on our various
oads.
I asked where he would take the Maharaja, and he said
tanher than Pettee, a few miles off, where his fighting
, were assembling; he had brought forty thousand
^""om Jumoo "- in case the Jangi lat should need
ay ."^gainst these rebel dogs of the Khalsa; haply we
; bow ^ up as ^y flee from sobraon! Then," and
it ^ as far as his ^ywould let hun' "we must see
bajip ^V01" 'najesty has a new army, of true men!" Ben y- -^his with a good grace, whatever he may have
^ ^vas f
Time to go, and Jassa mounted alongside me I'
313 , ;
that was the moment when I knew for certain that he
hadn't been party to Gardner's little plot. He'd seemed as
stunned as I was to find Goolab Singh waiting at Jupindar
but that might have been acting - the fact that he was
riding back to Hardinge with me was proof of his innocence.
I gave a last salutation to Dalip, standing very small
and steady apart from old Goolab, and then Jassa and I
rode south from Jupindar rocks - with our tails between
our legs, if you like . . . and two million pounds' worth of
crystallised carbon round my neck.
He was a canny infant and wise beyond his years, young
Dalip - wasn't he just? He knew Goolab wouldn't dare
harm his person - but his property was another matter. If
the old fox had guessed the Koh-i-Noor was within reach,
then that wondrous treasure would surely have found its
way to Kashmir. And in his infant innocence, Dalip had
passed it to me, for safe-keeping . . .
I brooded on that as we trotted south over the doab in
the misty afternoon, with Jupindar fading from sight
behind us, and the distant green that marked the Sutlej
coming into view ahead. By rights I should have been
deciding where to cross, and calculating our bearing from
Sobraon, where presently all hell would be let loose. But
having the most precious object in the world bobbing
against your belly concentrates the mind wonderfully; i1 H
ain't just the fearful responsibility, either. All kinds of ^1 mad fancies flit by - not to be taken seriously, you undei- ^1 stand, but food for wild imaginings - like bleaching yo"^ ^" hair and striking out for Valparaiso under the name of
Butterworth and never looking near England again
two million quid, Lord love us! Aye, but how d'you dis1
pose of a diamond the size of a tangerine? Not il
Amsterdam . .. probably to some swindling shark who I
set the traps after you ... I could picture myself g0100! mad in a garret, gibbering at a treasure I was too wln(^.t,| sell. . . But if you could, and disappear . . . Gad, the i1 I
you could lead - estates, palaces, luxury by the bucke'l
gold cigar-boxes and silk drawers, squads of slaves and
battalions of willing women, visions of Xanadu and
Babylon and unlimited boozing and frolic .. .
No steak and kidney ever again, though - and no
Elspeth. No sunny days at Lord's or strolls along the
Haymarket, no hunt suppers or skittle pool or English
rain or Horse Guards or quarts of home-brewed ... oh,
for Elspeth bare and bouncing and a jug of October and
bread and cheese by the bed! All the jewels of Golconda
can't buy you that, even supposing you had the nerve to
bolt with them - which I knew I had not. No, pinching
Koh-i-Noor is like putting t'other side in to bat - you
won't do it, but there's no reason why you shouldn't think
hard about it.
"Where you aim to cross, lieutenant?" says Jassa, and I
realised he'd been gassing since we left Jupindar, full of
bile against Gardner, and I'd hardly taken in a blessed
word. I asked him, as one who knew the country, where
we were.
"About five miles nor'east of Nuggur Ford," says he.
"The Sobraon ghat's less than ten miles due east - see,
that smoke'U be from the Sikh lines." He pointed to our
left front, and on the horizon, above the distant green,
you could see it hanging like a dark mist. "We can scout
the Nuggur, an' if it ain't clear, we can cast downriver a
Piece." He paused. "Leastways, you can."
Something in his tone made me look round - into the six
"arrels of his pistol. He'd reined in about ten feet behind
^> and there was a hard, fixed grin on his ugly face.
What the hell are you about?" cries I. "Put that
^""led thing up!"
'^o, sir," says he. "Now you sit right still, 'cos I don't
" to harm you. No, don't start to holler an' tear your
jsm' nelther! Just slip off that locket an' chain, an' toss
^ over this way - lively, now!"
s^ ora "moment I'd been all at sea - I'd forgotten, you
' that he'd been there when Jeendan had shown the
315
stone to Dalip and put it round his neck, and again }vh
Dalip had passed the locket to me. Then: en
"You confounded fool!" I yelped, half-laughing. ^ can't steal this
"Don't bet on it! Now, you do as I say, d'ye hear?"
I was riding Ahmed Shah's screw, with two long horse
pistols in the saddle holsters, but I'd no notion of reachino
for them. For the thing was wild - hadn't I been turning it
over, academic-like, for the past hour?
"Harlan, you're daft!" says I. "Look, man, put up that
pepperbox and see reason! This is the Koh-i-Noor - and
the Punjab! Why, you'ld not get twenty miles - you'ld be
running your head into a noose "
"Mr Flashman, you can shut up!" says he, and the
harsh face with its ghastly orange whiskers looked like a
scared ape's. "Now, sir, you pass that item across
directly, or "
"Hold on!", says I, and lifted the tarnished silver case
in my hand. "Hear me a moment. I don't know how many
carats this thing weighs, or how you think you can turn it
into cash - even if you get clear of the Sikhs, let alone the
British Army! Good God, man, the mere sight of it and
you'll be clapped in irons - you can't hope to sell -"
"You're trying my patience, mister! An' you're forgetting
I know this territory, for a thousand miles around,
better'n any man alive! I know Jews in every town from
Prome to Bokhara who can have that rock in twenty bits
quicker'n you can spit!" He threw back his puggar^ impatiently and raised the pistol, and for all his brag hi
hand was shaking. "I don't want to shoot you out of tw
saddle, but I will, by the holy!"
"Will you?" says I. "Gardner said you wouldn't do
murder - but he was right about your being a thief - J
"That he was!" cries he. "An' if you paid heed to nil" you know my story!" He was grinning like a ffl^ "I've followed fortune half a lifetime, an' taken ever
chance I found! I ain't about to miss the best one yet'AB
316
ran set the British an' the Punjab in a roar after me --I
p's a war to finish, an' more empty trails between
--.. an' Katmandu an' Quetta than anybody's ever
Aouebt of-'cept me! I'll count to three!"
Hisknuckle was white on the ring, so I slipped the chain
Irer my neck, weighed the locket a moment, and tossed it
i^n. He snapped it up by the chain, his feverish eyes
ever leaving me for a second, and dropped the locket
into his boot. His chest was heaving, and he licked his lips
-highway robbery wasn't his style, I could see.
"Now you climb down, an' keep your hands clear o'
those barkers!" I dismounted, and he side-stepped in and
Kized my reins.
"You're not leaving me afoot - and unarmed, for
God's sake!" I cried, and he backed his horse away,
Eng me still, and drawing my mount with him.
)u're less'n two hours from the river," says he, grin- more easy now. "You'll make it safe enough. Well,
lieutenant ... we had our ups an' downs, but no hard Heelings my side. Fact, I'm almost sorry to part - you're
y sort, you know." He gave a high-pitched laugh.
That's why I'm not offering you a partnership in Koh-iNoor
Unlimited!"
"I wouldn't take it. How long have you been planning
'>?"
"Bout twenty minutes. Here - catch hold!" He
lung the chaggle from Ahmed's saddle, and threw it towards me. "Hot day - have a drink on me!"
He wheeled his horse and was off at the gallop, making ^rth, with my screw behind, leaving me alone on the "ob-1 waited until the scrub hid him, and then turned
-nd ran at full speed in the direction of Nuggur Ford. "ere was a belt of jungle that way, and I wanted to be in ver' ^s I ran, I kept my hand cupped to my side, feeling ^ "-assuring bulge of the Koh-i-Noor under my sash. I J "ay-dream occasional, but when I'm carrying price- ^uables in the company of the likes of Dr Josiah
r- . 317
Harlan, I slip 'em out of sight in the first five minutes, you
may be sure.
If he'd had the wit to open the locket - well, that would
have been another story. But if he'd had that much wit
he'd not have been reduced to running errands for Broad^ foot in the first place. The fact is, for all his experience of rascality, Jassa was a 'prentice hand. The Man Who
Would Be King . .. but never was.
Only the other day my little great-niece Selina - the pretty
one whose loose conduct almost led me to commit murder
in Baker Street, but that's another story - remarked to me
that she couldn't abide Dickens because his books were
full of coincidences. I replied by telling her about the chap
who lost a rifle in France and tripped over it in West
Africa twenty years later ,46 and added for good measure
an account of my own strange experience after I parted
from Harlan in the doab. That was coincidence, if yo" like, and damnably mixed luck, too, for while it may have
saved my life it also landed me centre stage in the last ai" of the Punjab war.
Once I reached the jungle belt, chortling at the thougt
of Jassa stopping presently to gloat over his booty, Iwel to ground. Even when he found out he'd been diddle he'd never dare come back to look for me, so I ^eaa&. stay put and cross the river when night fell. In my 'va attire I could pass for a gorrachar' well enough, but
less I was seen the better, so I planned to leave my J"^ lair a couple of hours before dusk, slip down to the "I swim across - it wasn't above four hundred yards w [
and lie up on the far shore until daylight. ,y
It began to rain heavily towards evening, so Iw , enough of my shelter, and only when the "S^ ~^ fade did I venture out, onto a beaten track leading ^ ^ to the Sutlej. It took me through a little wood, an
striding boldly along, eager to catch a glimpse of the river,
when I rounded a bend in the trees, and there, not twenty yards ahead, was a troop of regular Khalsa cavalry, with
their beasts picketed and a fire going. It was too late to
turn back, so I walked on, prepared to pass the time of
day and pick up the shave, and only when I was almost on
them did I notice six or seven bodies hanging from trees
within the wood. I bore up in natural alarm - and that was
fatal. They were already looking towards me, and now
someone yelled an order, and before I knew it I had been
seized by grinning sowars and hauled into the presence of
a burly daffadar* standing by the fire, a mess-tin in his
hand and his tunic unbuttoned. He eyed me malevolently,
brushing crumbs from his beard.
"Another of them!" growls he. "Gorracharra, are
you? Aye, the faithless rabble! And what tale.have you
got to tell?" ^ Mj
'Tale, daffadar sahib?" says I, bewildered. "Why,
none!I "
"Here's a change! Most of you have sick mothers!" At
which all his louts hooted with laughter. "Well, gorrachar', where's your horse? Your arms? Your regiment?"
He suddenly threw the mess-tin aside and slapped
e across the face, back and forth. "Your honour, you eowardly scum!"
" ^ck the sense out of me for a moment, and I was
rting to babble some nonsense about being waylaid by
andits when he hit me again.
^ Hobbed, were you? And they left you this?" He
"Ui^ the ^^''-hnted Persian knife from my boot.
ieid Yolrre a deserter! Like those swine there!" He
a thumb at the swinging corpses, and I saw that
"Well ^lem were wearing some remnants of uniform. luni^011 can muster with them agam' carrion! Hang
i-'- -' .' -' ., .'
^'nmanderoften.s; .':
319
It was so brutally sudden, so impossible - I wasn't to
know that for weeks they'd been hunting down deserters
from half the regiments of the Khalsa, stringing them up
on sight without charge, let alone trial. They were dragging
me towards the trees before I recovered my wits, and
there was only one way to stop them.
"DaffadarV I shouted, "you're under arrest! For
assault on a superior officer and attempted murder! I am
Katte Khan, captain and aide to the Sirdar Heera Sing
Topi, of Court's Division -" it was a name from months
ago, the only one I could think of. "You!" I snapped at
the goggling sowar holding my left arm. "Take your polluting
hand away or I'll have you shot! I'll teach you to lay
hands on me, you damned Povinda brigands!" ,
It paralysed them - as the voice of authority always
does. They loosed me in a twinkling, and the daffadar, open-mouthed, even began to button his tunic. "We are
not of the Povinda division "
"Silence! Where's your officer?"
"In the village," says he, sullenly, and only half-cent vinced. "If you are what you say -" 1
"If! Give me the He, will you?" I dropped my voice
from a bellow to a whisper, which always rattles them- "Daffadar, I do not explain myself to the sweepings of the
gutter! Bring your officer - jaoV
Now he was convinced. "I'll take you to him, Captain
sahib -"
"You'll bring him!" I roared, and he leaped back ^ yard and sent one of the sowars off at the gallop, wwe turned on my heel and waited with my back to theffl_ ^ that they shouldn't see that I was shaking like a lea^ had all been so quick - carefree one minute, condon"" the next - that there hadn't been time for fear, butnoje(^ was fit to faint. What could I say to the officer? Iwa%^ my wits - and then there was the sound of hooves,
turned to see the coincidence riding towards me. ^_
He was a tall, fine-looking young Sikh, his yellow
18 320
tained with weeks of campaigning. He reined in, demanding
of the daffadar what the devil was up, swinging out of
the saddle and striding towards me - and to my consternation
I knew him, and any hope of maintaining my disguise
vanished. For it was long odds he'd recognise me, too,
and if he did ... A wild thought suddenly struck me, and
before he could speak I had drawn myself up, bowed, and
in my best verandah manner asked him to send his men
out of earshot. My style must have impressed him, for he
waved them away.
"Sardul Singh," says I quietly, and he started. "I'm
Flashman. You escorted me from Ferozepore to Lahore
six months ago. It's vital that these men should not know
I'm a British officer."
He gasped, and stepped closer, peering at me in the
gathering dark. "What the devil are you doing here?"
I took a deep breath, and prayed. "I've come from
-ahore - from the Maharani. This morning I was with Raja Goolab Singh, who is now at Pettee, with his army. I
*as on my way to the Maiki lot, with messages of the ighest importance, when by ill chance these fellows took "e for a deserter - thank God it's you who -"
'^ait, wait!" says he. "You are from Lahore ... on "embassy? Then, why this disguise? Why "
Envoys don't travel in uniform these days," says I,
lionE10110'1 my tale as "fg"1 as J knew how- "Look, I ~ not tell you, but I must - there are secret negotia-
jj^n hand! I can't explain, but the whole future of the
lelay ^P"^ on them! I must get across the river without ^^^ matters are at a most delicate stage, and my mess-
l^e are they?" 1"' ^h? Oh, Lord above, they're not written.
Ipron01^ " I tapped my head, which you'll agree was
VtvoT^!gestureP,
no" some P^POrt, surely?"
I can't carry anything that might betray
321
I
me. This is the most confidential affair, you see. Believ
me, Sardul Singh, every moment is precious. I must cros I
secretly to "
"A moment," says he, and my heart sank, for while the
fine young face wasn't suspicious, it was damned keen. "if you must pass unseen, why have you come so close to our army? Why not by Hurree-ke, or south by Ferozepore?" I
"Because Hardinge sahib is with the British ana?
across from Sobraon! I had to come this way!"
"Yet you might have crossed beyond our patrols, and
lost little time." He considered me, frowning. "Forgive me, but you might be a spy. There .have been many,
scouting our lines." ft
"I give you my word of honour, I'm no spy. What I sayis
true. .. and if you hold me here, you may be dooming your
army to death - and mine - and your country to ruin."
By God, I was doing it purple, but my only hope wal
that, being a well-educated aristocrat, he must know tha
desperate intrigue and dealing that were woven into I
war - and if he believed me, he'd be a damned 1
subaltern to hamper a diplomatic courier on such a'
errand. Alas, though, subalterns' minds travel a t
road, and his was no exception: faced with a moment! decision, my dashing escort of the Lahore road had tointo
a Slave of Duty - and Safety.
"This is beyond me!" He shook his handsome n
"It may be as you say ... but I cannot let you go'^ not the authority. My colonel will have to decide I
made a last desperate cast. "That would be taw word of the negotiations gets out, they're bound to ^
"There is no fear of that - my colonel is a sate
And he will know what to do." Relief was in his v the thought of passing the parcel to higher a" "Yes, that will be best - I'll go to him myself, ^ ^ our watch is ended! You can stay here, s ye,
decides to release you, it can be done without tro
you will have lost little time."
I tried again, urging the necessity for speed, imploring
I him to trust me, but it was no go. The colonel must pronounce,
and so while he trotted back to his squadron post
in the village, I must wait under guard of the glowering daffadar and his mates, resigned to capture. Of all the
infernal luck, at the last fence! For it mattered not a bean
I whether his colonel believed my cock-and-bull story or
not - he'd never speed me on my way without going
higher still, and God alone knew where that might end.
They'd hardly dare mistreat me, in view of the tale I'd
told; even if they disbelieved it, they'd not be mad enough
to shoot me as a spy, at this stage of the war, surely . . .
| mind you, some of those Akali fanatics were bloodthirsty
enough for anything .. .
On such jolly reflections I settled down to wait in that
dripping little camp - for it was raining heavily again - and
either the colonel had gone absent without leave or Sardul
at an unconscionable time gnawing his nails in indeciE,
for it must have been well into the small hours before
etumed. By that time, worn out with wet and despair, "I sunk into a doze, and when I came to, with Sardul
i my shoulder, I didn't know where I was for a
it.
is well!" cries he, and for a blessed second I
t he was going to speed me on my way. "I have ' with the colonel sahib, and told him ... of your 'atic duty." He dropped his voice, glancing round ^firelight. "The colonel sahib thinks it best that he
not see you himself." Another reckless mutton-
Stw staff ^^S' Plainly. "He says this is a high . "latter ... so I am to take you to Tej Singh. ^have a horse for you!"
told me they were going to send me on shooting ,... otl I'd have been less astonished, but his next ^^d the explanation.
lonel sahib says that since Tej Singh is comman'
he will surely know of these secret negotia323
tions, and can decide what should be done. And since h
is in the camp below Sobraon, he will be able to send J^ to the Maiki lot with all speed. Indeed, you wiU be the^ sooner than if I released you now."
That was what I'd talked myself into .. . Sobraon fee
very heart of the doomed Khalsa. Yet what eke could i
have done? When you've just been within an ace of beim hanged out of hand, you're liable to say the first thing Q" comes to mind, and I'd had to tell Sardul something. Sffll
it could have been worse. At least with Tej I'd be safe
and he'd see me back to Hardinge fast enough ... flag of
truce, a quick trot across no man's land, and home in time
for breakfast. Aye, provided the dogs of war didn't come
howling out of the kennel in the meantime .. . what had
Goolab said? "A day or two at most" before
stormed the Khalsa lines in the last great battle ..
"Well, let's be off, hey?" cries I, jumping up. "The
sooner the better, you know! How far is it - can we be
there before first light?" He said it was only a few miles
along the river bank, but since that way was heavy with
military traffic, we would be best to take a detour round
their positions (and prevent wicked Flashy from spying
out the land, you understand). Still, we should be there
soon after dawn.
We set off in the rainy dark, the whole troop of us I
was taking no chances on my slipping my cable, and a bridle was tied firmly to the daffadar's pommel. Itw black as sin, and no hope of a moon in this weather^ we went at little better than a walk, and before long I " lost all sense of time and direction. It was my see"" night in the saddle, I was weary and sore and sodden
fearful, and every few moments I nodded off W wake with a start, clutching at the mane to save ^ from falling. How far we came before the teeming "^ pour ceased and the sky began to lighten, I can'tte ,
presently we could see the doab about us, with wral^j^ vapour hanging heavy over the scrub. Ahead a fc^
J
324
I
showing dimly, and Sardul reined up: "Sobraon."
tot it was only the village of that name, which lies a
"" (yo north of the river, and when we reached it we
ct turn sharp right to come down to the Khalsa's Lirve positions on the northern bank, beyond which the
ridee of boats spanned the Sutlej to the main Sikh fortifi'arions
on the southern side, hemmed in by Gough's
nnv As we wheeled and approached the rear of the reserve lines, fires were nickering and massive shadows
ooming in the mist ahead, and now we could see the
;ntrenchments on either flank, with heavy gun emplacenents
commanding the river, which was still out of sight
o our front. As we trotted through a sea of churned mud
to the lines, trumpets were blaring the stand-to, the Sikh
drums were beginning to rattle, troops were swarming in the trenches, and from all about us came the clamour and
bustle of an army stirring, like a giant rousing from sleep.
I didn't know, nor did they, as drum and trumpet called
them, that the Khalsa was answering its last reveille. But
even as we entered the rearmost line, from somewhere far
beyond the grey blanket mantling the northern shore
ahead of us, came another sound, stunning in its suddenness:
the thunder of gunfire echoing along the Sutlej valley 11 a continuous roar of explosions, shaking the ground "nderfoot, reverberating through the mists of morning. "eyond our view, on the southern shore, an old Irishman ""a white coat was beating his shillelagh on the Khalsa's ""or, and with a sinking heart I realised that I had come a "^ hour too late. The battle of Sobraon had begun.
;-;- s&
325
and the Sikh gunners were giving him shot for shot.
-presently he will attack, and be thrown back!" cries
<ardul exultantly. "The position is secure, and we may go
down in safety to Tej Singh. Come, bahadur, it is a
splendid sight! A hundred and fifty great guns thunder
against each other - but your Jangi lat has blundered! His
range is too long, and he wastes his powder! Come and
i"

I believed him. Knowing Paddy, I could guess hi was
banging away just to please Hardinge, but couldn't wait
for the moment when he would turn his bayonets loose. Tiat must be soon, by the sound of it; even if he'd irought the whole magazine from Umballa, he couldn't
Sardul came spurring back, spattering
with excitement. Gough's batteries were haminei1"0^).
fortifications on the southern shore, but doing lit"6
326
327
te^ The best way to view a dash of armies is
from a hot-air balloon, for not only can you see what's
doing, you're safely out of the line of fire. I we done it for
once in Paraguay, and there's nothing to beat it, provided &
some iealous swine of a husband doesn't take a cleaver to brought the whole magazine from Umballa, he couldn't
the cable The next best place is an eminence, like the^eepup such a barrage for long.
Saooune at Balaclava or the bluffs above Little Bighorn, "Never in all India has there been such a fight of heavy
anri if T can soeak with authority about both those engage-_guns!" cries Sardul. "Their smoke is like a city burning!
n?ents it's not so much because I was lashing about in^Oh what a day to see! What a day!"
thick of them, as that I had the opportunity of overiooiong He was like a boy at a fair as he led the way down Trough the silent gun positions, and presently we came to "ttle flat promontory, where a group of Sikh staff offi- ^ were mounted, very brave in their dress coats. They -wed us not so much as a glance, for at that moment the luted from the river like a raised curtain, and an
-- ~ ~ i
ments it's not so much because I  ^...-.p -- thick of them, as that I had the opportunity of overlooking
the ground beforehand.
Sobraon was like that. The northern bank of the Sutlei "'-- -~-ti,o,^, mvino a sweepinj
soorauu woa u&^ >.u.... .--._
at that point is higher than the southern, giving a sweeping view of the whole battlefield, and miles beyond. I wasnj to see it for another hour or so, for when the cannonaAj
began Sardul called a halt, and left me in the care of Ml ' .- - ...^a ^tt cpp what was up. We wait"
view of
to
began Sardul called a halt, and left me in me w,.^-- ff"^^ was unfolded before us.
trooo while he dashed off to see what was up. We w^ iwenty feet below the bluff the oily flood of the Sutlej
in the clammy dawn, while the Sikh support troops s^^^rhDg by in fuu ^^ the bubbling brown surface
to inspection in the trenches and gun emplacement ^^ ^thramage which was piling up against the great
us and the gunners stripped the aprons ^."^.ouiirjniass- wats'four hundred yards long and anchored by pieces piling the cartridges and rolling the big 4-^ ^ '-cnams, that spanned the river to the southern
shot on to the stretchers, aU ready to load. They.wCT ( Khaisa^' m a half-moon a full mile in extent, the
hands those artillerymen, manning their position ^ ^pan< s y in three "^ concentric semi-circles of 1"*"" ' - . .. ...... i^o,ri^ faces staring ^ ^rwls, ditches, and bastions: there were thirty
hands, those artmerymen, ^^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ -^ ^^ncen^^^^^
and 1^ Se oT^^^^^ ^ond the ^^g sikhs in there'the cream of the punjaby towards the battle 01 oarr s ifleir backs to the river and seventy big guns crashing
mlst- - -- *'"- mud' " ^^"^yto our artillery positions a thousand yards
i i^^e whole Sikh stronghold hung an enormous acK gunsmoke, and above the widespread distant
arc of our guns a similar pall was hanging, thinner and
dispersing more quickly than theirs, for while their batteries
were concentrated within that mile-wide fortress,
our sixty pieces were scattered in a curved line twice as
long - and Sardul was right, their range was too great. I
could see our mortar shells bursting high over the Sikh
positions, and the heavy shot throwing up fountains of red
earth, but causing little damage; far to the right we had a
rocket battery in action, the long white trails crisscrossing
the black clouds, and some fires were burning at that end
of the Sikh lines, but all along the forward fortifications
the Khalsa gunners were blazing away in style - Paddy
wasn't going to win the shooting-match, that was certain.
Even amidst the din of the cannonade we could hear
them cheering in the entrenchments across the river, and
the blare of their military bands, with drums throbbing
and cymbals clashing, and then the salvoes from the
British guns died away, and the smoke cleared over our
distant positions; the trumpets in the Sikh camp were
sounding the cease-fire, and presently the last wraiths dispersed
above their positions also, and Sam Khalsa and
John Company looked each other in the eye across a half- Mile of scrubby plain and patchy jungle, like two boxers when their seconds and supporters have left off yelling
abuse, and each scrapes his feet and flexes his arms for the
onset.
With the enemy snug behind his ramparts, it was for Gough to make the first move, and he did it in classic
??, with a straight left. Sardul caught at my arm, point- ^g. and sure enough, far off on our right front, steel was
glinting through the last of the mist; he had a little spy- yass clapped to his eye, but now he passed it to me and
y heart raced as I saw the white cap-covers and red coats
pnng into close vision in the glass circle, the fixed Nonets gleaming in the first sunlight, the officers and ""ouners to the fore, the colour stirring in the breeze 1 ^"id even make out the embroidered "X", but it can
329
only have been in imagination that I heard the fifpc
sounding: ;
The gamekeeper was watching us, -; ||
For him we did not care,
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys,
And jump o'er anywhere ...
as the Tenth Lincoln came on in line, their pieces at the
port, with the horse guns bounding past their flank, and
alongside them the shakos and white belts of the Native
Infantry, and then another British colour, but I couldn't
make out which, and again our guns began to crash as
Paddy poured his last rounds of covering fire over their
heads and the dust billowed up on the Khalsa's right front.
The Sikh batteries exploded in a torrent of flame, and I
saw our line stagger and recover and come on again before
the clouds of smoke and dust hid them from sight. On the
extreme right a great body of horse emerged from the
entrenchments, swinging wide to charge our rocket batteries
whose missiles were weaving in above the advancing
infantry and exploding on the breastworks. The Sikh
horse rounded our flank and went for the rocket stand like
Irishmen on holiday, but the battery commander must
have seen his danger and given the word to raise the
frames, for he let them come to point-blank range before
loosing the whole barrage at ground level, whizzing in to
burst among the horsemen, and the charge dissolved in 
cloud of white smoke and orange flame.
The staff men beside us were suddenly shouting and
pointing: while Gough's left wing was closing through the
smoke on the Sikhs' right front, out on the plain, beyond
the scrub and jungle, there was a stirring in the heat haze. tiny figures, red, blue, and green, were coming intovie*- long extended lines of them, with the horse guns in w intervals between. I swung the glass on them, and "e were the yellow facings of the 29th, there the buff ofw
330
Ust everywhere the red coats and cross-belts of the Native Infantry ... the red and blue of the Queen's Own
on the flank the dark figures of the 9th Lancers and
die blue coats and puggarees of the Bengali horsemen .. .
the crimson-streaked plumes of the 3rd Lights ... the
little goblin figures of the Gurkhas, trotting to keep up,
and even as I watched there was a flash of silver rippling
along their front as the great leaf-bladed knives came out.
The whole of our army was on the move towards the
centre and left of the Khalsa's position - twenty thousand
British and Native foot, horse, and guns coming in against
odds of three to two, and the Sikhs' heavy metal was
ranging on them, kicking up the dust-plumes all along the
great arc of our advance.
Now all the forward entrenchments were exploding,
sweeping the ground with a hail of grape and canister,
blotting out the scene in a thick haze of dust and smoke. I
caught my breath in horror, for it was Ferozeshah all over
again, with that raving old spud-walloper risking everything
on the sabre and the bayonet, hand to hand - but
then the Sikhs had been groggy from'Moodkee, in positions
hastily dug and manned, while now they were
entrenched in a miniature Torres Vedras, with ditch-anddyke
works twenty feet high, enfiladed by murderous
camel-swivels and packed with tulwar-swinging lunatics
fairiy itching to die for the Guru. You can't do it, Paddy, th^As I, it won't answer this time, you'll break your great "uck Irish head against this fortress of shot and steel, and
have your army torn to ribbons, and lose the war, and
never see Tipperary again, you benighted old bog-trotter,
youth
The'" ^^ Sardul, and I tore my eyes away from
at billowing mirk beyond which our army was advancing Wrtain death, and followed him down the muddy slope the tedge of boats. They were big barges, lashed w to thwart and paved with heavy timbers which p a road as straight and solid as dry ground - hollo,
says I, there's a white sapper in the woodpile, damn him for no Punjabi ever put this together. We drummed across
with the troop at our heels and came into the rear of the
Khalsa position - their last line of defence where the
general staff directed operations, aides hurried to and fro
between the tents and hutments, carts of wounded nunbled
through to the bridge, and all was activity and uproar
- but it was a disciplined bedlam, I noticed, in spite of the
deafening crash of guns and musketry rolling back from
the lines.
There was a knot of senior men grouped round a great
scale model of the fortifications -1 caught only a glimpse
of it, but it must have been twenty feet across, with every
trench and parapet and gun just so - and a splendid old
white-bearded sirdar with a mail vest over his silk tunic
was prodding it with a long wand and bellowing orders
above the din, while his listeners despatched messengers
into the sulphurous reek which blotted out everything
beyond fifty yards, and made the air nigh unbreathable.
This was clearly the high command - but no sign of Tej
Singh, general and guiding spirit of the Khalsa, God help
it, until I heard his voice piercing the uproar, at full
screech.
"Three hundred and thirty-three long grains of rice?"
he was shouting, "Then get them, idiot! Am I a storekeeper? Fetch a sack from the kitchen - run, you
pervert son of a shameless mother!"
Close by the bridgehead was a curious structure liks a huge beehive, about ten feet high and built of stone
blocks. Before it, in full fig of gold coat, turbaned helmed and jewelled sword-belt, stood Tej himself - he wa511 above ten yards from the staff conference, but they img
have been in Bombay for all the heed each paid to
other. Before him cringed a couple of attendants, a "I held a coloured brolly over his head, and at a table n the beehive's entrance an ancient wallah in an enonD^, puggaree was studying charts through a magnifyioS 
332
and making notes. Watching the scene with some amusement
was an undoubted European in kepi, shirtsleeves,
and a goatee beard.
That is what I saw, through the drifting smoke and
confusion; the following, above the thunder of the great
battle in which India was being lost and won, is what I
heard - and it's stark truth:
Ancient wallah: The inner circumference is too small!
According to the stars, it must be thirteen and a half times
the girth of your excellency's belly.
Tej: My belly? What in God's name has my belly to do mthit?
I A.W.: It is your excellency's shelter, and must be built
in relation to your proportions, or the influence of your
planets will not sustain it. I must know your circumference,
taken precisely about the navel.
European (producing foot-rule): A metre and a half, at
least. Here, this is marked in English inches.
Tej: I am to measure my belly, at such a time?
European: What else have you to do? The sirdars have
the defence in hand, and my fortifications will not be
overrun if they are properly manned. By the way, three
hundred and thirty-three long grains of rice make about
three and a quarter English yards.
A.W. (agitated): The measurement must be exact!
European: A grain of rice may be exact in the stars,
astrologer, but not on earth. Anyway, three yards of stone ^stop any missile the British are likely to throw at us.
A.W.: Not if the circumference is too small! It must be Barged -
uropean (shrugging): Or the general must lose weight.
L^^aged): Damn you, Hurbon . .. And who in
Frosname are y0"'and what do you want?
DdA this time sar(iul ^"S" was before him, saluting
en whispering urgently. Tej gave a start, and turned
o^ ^Prehending stare at me, as though I'd been a --en he recovered, beckoned me urgently, and
333
3
dived into the beehive.471 followed and found myself in a
tiny circular chamber, stuffy and stinking from a single off
lamp. Tej wrenched the door to, and the sound of battle died to a distant murmur. He fairly clutched at me, his
chops wobbling.
"Is it you, my dear friend? Ah, thank God! Is this thine
true? Is there a secret negotiation?"
I told him there wasn't, that it was a lie I'd told Sardul
on the spur of the moment, and he let out a great wail o
dismay.
"Then what am I to do? I cannot control these madmen!
You saw them out yonder - they pretend that I do |
not exist, and take my command away, the mutinous I swine! Sham Singh directs the defence, and your army will
be dashed to pieces! I did not seek this engagement! Why,
oh why, did Gough sahib force it upon me!" He began to
rave and curse, beating his fat fists on the stone. "If the Jangi lat is beaten, what will become of me! I am lost! I am
lost!" And he subsided on the floor, a quaking blubber in
his gold coat, weeping and railing against Gough am
Sham Singh and Jeendan and Lal Singh, and anyone else
he could call to mind.
I didn't interrupt him. It may have been the sudden
quiet of that little refuge, but for the first time in hours 1
found myself able to think, and was deep in fearful calculation.
For here I was, by the strangest turn of fate,
prisoner in the heart of the enemy's camp, at the supreme moment of imperial crisis, while all yet hung in the balance - and a small voice in my coward soul was telliBg me what had to be done. Only to think of the risk set n"- shaking . .. anyway, it all depended on one thing. Iwalte until Tej's lamentation reached a high pitch, slid cftW out of the beehive, closed the door, and looked about
my heart racing. , Everywhere was choking confusion, with visibm1?
poor twenty yards, but round the command group w^ cheering press of Sikhs, dancing and waving tulwa^
ru 5
grit attack had failed, although the pounding of gun- ^,p was as deafening as ever. A horse artillery team came
lattering from the bridge; a wounded officer, his blue oat sodden with blood, was being carried past by
servants; the European, Hurbon,48 was mounting a pony
and riding off into the smoke; the old astrologer was still muttering over his charts - but the one thing for which I'd
been hoping had come to pass: Sardul Singh and his troop,
having done their duty by delivering me, were gone. And with all attention directed towards the death-struggle just
up the road, no one was paying the least heed to the big
Kabuli badmash scratching himself furtively outside the
Coininander-in-ChieFs funkhole.
It was my heaven-sent chance to act on the inspiration
which had come to me while Tej blubbered at my feet. I
braced myself, breathed a silent prayer, took a dozen
flying strides, gathering speed as I went, and with one last
almighty bound hurled myself from the bank and plunged nto the boiling flood of the Sutlej.
According to the Morning Post, or the Keswick
Reminder, I forget which (or it may even have been the Lincoln, Rutland and Stamford Mercury) I was pursued by
"a horde of furious foes, whose discharges rent the waters
about my head", but the truth is that no one saw my
"spirited dash for freedom" except a couple of dhobiwallahs
slapping laundry in the shallows (cool hands,
those, to be doing the wash while the battle raged), which
just shows that you should never trust what you read in ^e papers. Why, they even credited me with "breaking
free from my bonds" and cutting down a couple of "swar^y
foemen" in the course of my escape "from the jaws of "? Seekh Khalsa"; well, I never said so. The facts are as 'w stated, and while I may have embroidered 'em a little For Henry Lawrence's benefit, the lurid press accounts ere p^g gammon. But it's a journalistic law, you see, lnat heroes can never do anything ordinary; when Flashy, sector of Afghanistan, beats a reluctant retreat, there
335
must be an army howling at his heels, or the public cancel
their subscriptions. ||
You, knowing the truth of my inglorious evasion, may cry out in disgust at my desertion in the hour of need- well, good luck to you. I shan't even remark that 'twould
have served no purpose to stay, or pretend that if there
had been a bomb handy I'd have paused to heave it at the
Khalsa's high command before lighting out - someone
would have been sure to notice. I was intent only on flight
and the Sutlej called to me; as I ploughed frantically away
from the bank I was prepared to drift all the way to
Ferozepore if need be, rejoicing in the knowledge that the
flood was carrying me beyond the reach of foe and friend
alike. And so it might have done, if the river hadn't been
swollen seven feet above its normal level, developing currents
that bore me almost diagonally to the northern
bank; struggle as I might I couldn't stay in midstream, for
there was a terrific undertow that kept sucking me down,
and it was all I could do to stay afloat. I'm a good swimmer,
but a river in spate is a fearsome thing, and I was
half-drowned when I found myself in the northern shallows,
and struggled, spewing and gasping, on to the
muddy shore.
I lay for a couple of minutes, taking breath, and when I
peeped out from among the reeds, there before me on the
far side was the extreme flank of the Khalsa fortifications,
with the bridge of boats a bare half-mile upstream. Which meant that on the bluff directly above me were the Sikh
reserve batteries we'd passed through on the way in - and
if an idle gunner chanced to look over the edge, there was I, like a fish on a slab.
I burrowed through the reeds, cursing my luck, and
crawled into the lee of the bluff, which was about thirty
feet high. Above me, just below the overhanging lip,was what looked like a sandy ledge. If I could clamber up to it
I should be hidden both from above and below, so I began to climb the almost perpendicular bank, gouging holdsln
336
wet day. It was heavy going, but my one fear was that
"'any moment a dusky head would pop over and chalipnee
m- Nearing the top, I could hear them chattering in 'the emplacements, which fortunately were about twenty
vards back from the edge; I scrambled the last few feet
with my heart in my mouth, gained the ledge, and was
ovenoyed to find that it extended back a good yard
beneath the overhang; in two shakes I was prone beneath
the lip> safe hidden but with a clear view for a mile upriver
and across the Khalsa position on the southern shore. And
there before my eyes was the great Battle of Sobraon.
Any soldier will tell you that, in the heat of a fight,
sights and sounds imprint themselves on your memory and
stay vivid for fifty years . . . but you lose all sense of time.
I can still see George Paget's cheroot clamped in his teeth
as he leaned from the saddle to haul me to my feet in the
Balaclava battery; I can hear Custer's odd little cough as
he rocked back on his heels with the blood trickling over
his lip - but how long those actions lasted, God alone
knows. Balaclava was twenty minutes, they tell me, and
Greasy Grass about fifteen - well, I was through both,
start to finish, and I'd have put them at an hour at least.
At Sobraon, where admittedly I was more spectator than
actor, it was t'other way round. From the moment Sardul
and I rode down to the bridge, to the time I reached my
ledge, I'd have reckoned half an hour at most; in fact it
was between two hours and three, and in that space, while
Tej was bickering about the size of his hideyhole, and I ^s swallowing the Sutlej by the gallon, Sobraon was ^ing lost and won. This is how it was.
The attack by our left wing, which I'd witnessed, had en ^aten back with heavy loss. Our advance on the her "ank and centre had been intended as a feint, but
hen Paddy saw our left come adrift he changed the feint
to a pukka assault, through a murderous hail of fire;
mehow our men survived it and stormed the Sikh ences along almost the whole curved front of two and a
337
half miles, and for nigh on an hour it was a hideous hack.
ing-match over the ditches and ramparts. Our people were
repulsed time and again, but still they forged ahead
British and Indian bayonets and Gurkha knives against
the tulwars, with shocking slaughter; no maneuvering or
scientific soldiering, but hand-to-hand butchery - that was
fighting as Paddy Gough understood it, and weren't the
Sikhs ready to oblige him?
They fought like madmen - and perhaps that was their
undoing, for whenever an attack was beaten back they
leaped down into the ditches to mutilate our wounded.
Well, you don't do that to Atkins and Sepoy and Gurkha
if you know what's good for you; our people stormed back
at 'em in a killing rage, and when the scaling-ladders
wouldn't reach they climbed on each other's shoulders
and on the piled dead, and fairly pitchforked the Sikhs out
of their first line entrenchments, almost without firing a
shot. Good bayonet fighters will beat swordsmen ani spearmen every time, and they ran the Sikhs back owe
two furlongs of rough ground to the second line, when
the Khalsa gunners made a stand - and then Padd;
showed that he was a bit of a general as well as a hooligan.)
From my eyrie to the Sikhs' second line was a bare halfmile,
and I could see their gunners plain as day, for w wind was streaming their smoke away downriver. Tbev
were working their field pieces and camel-swivels ana
musketry until they must have been red-hot; the u0^ looked as though it was on fire, so constant was the roar j
the discharges, sweeping the ground and almost blo , j
out in a dust-storm the outer entrenchments from w j
our infantry and horse-guns were trying to ^.^ i
Between the Sikhs' second line and the river the l^ |
horse and foot were re-forming in their thousands, Vs'^ ing to counter-attack if the chance arose. Gougn -- sure it never did.

Directly across from me there was a sudden ^ xplosion in the flank entrenchments of the seco
across
explosion in
t,odies were flying like dolls, a field-gun went cartwheeling
end over end, and a huge pillar of dust arose, like a genie
from a bottle. As it cleared I saw that our sappers had
driven a great cleft in the ramparts, and through it who
should come trotting but old Joe Thackwell, as easy as
though he were in the Row, with a single file of 3rd Lights
at his heels, wheeling into line as they cleared the gap.
Behind them were the blue puggarees and white pants of
the Bengali Irregulars, and before the Sikhs knew what
was up Joe was rising in his stirrups, waving his sabre, and
the 3rd Lights were sweeping down the rear of the gun
positions, brushing aside the supporting infantry, sabring
and riding down everything in their path. In a moment the
rear of the second line was a turmoil of men and horses,
with the sabres rising and falling in the sunlight, and into it
the Bengalis drove like a thunderbolt. Farther down the
line our infantry were pouring over the ramparts, a wave
of red coats and bayonets, and all in a moment the whole
had caved in, and the Khalsa battalions were falling
: to the third line of entrenchments a bare two hun1
yards from the river. They weren't running, though;
retired like guardsmen, pouring volley after volley
' our advance, while the Bengalis and Dragoons har1
them front and flank, and our horse-guns came
reering through the outer lines to unlimber and turn
e" fire on the doomed Sikh army.
for it was done at last. Solid as a rock it looked as it
- m ^e elbow of the river, squares formed, squadrons
t^, standards raised, and the ground before it
i(?h wlt*1 lts ^ea(* ~ ^ut lt was h6111111^ln by an enemy
had overcome odds of three to two by sheer refusal to
till0^^ ' '' anc*ll ^a(* ^ost lts g""^ Now, as the horse
uld an<^ field pieces cut great lanes in its ranks, it
ir k^^ omv wlt^ musketry and steel to the charges of
r^y .rse ^d the steady advance of our infantry; it
'ery. and ^U back, almost step by step, contesting
~ and I looked to see the standards come down
"&- 339
in token of surrender. But they didn't. The Khalsa th R Pure, was dying on its feet, with its sirdars and general ^1
scrambling up on the broken entrenchments, willing j*, H
stand firm. I even made out the tall figure of the old wa^ horse I'd seen directing the high command; he was up on a
shattered gun carriage, his white robes gleaming in the
sunlight, shield on arm and tulwar raised, like some spirit
of the Khalsa, and then the smoke enveloped him, and
when it cleared, he was gone,49
Then they broke. It was like a dyke bursting, with first a
trickle of men making for the river, and then the main
body giving back, and suddenly that magnificent host that
I'd gaped at on Maian Mir had dissolved into a mass of fugitives pouring back to the bridge of boats, spilling into
the river on either side of it, or trying to escape along the
banks. In a few moments the whole length of the bridge
was jammed with struggling men and horses and even
gun-teams, vainly trying to win across; the sheer weight of
them and the force of the stream caused the great line of
barges to bend downriver like a gigantic bow drawn to the
limit. It swayed to and fro, half-submerged, with the
brown water boiling over it like a weir, and then it snapped,
the two ends surged apart, and the milling thousands
were pitched into the flood.
In an instant the whole width of the river beneath bm
was alive with men and beasts and wreckage, sweepinf past. It was like a lumber-jam when great areas of ttK
water cannot be seen for the whirling mass of logs. bul here the logs were men and horses and a great tangle w
gear bound together by the force of the current. ^-'P1""16' barges, black with men clinging to them, were dasnw against each other, rolling over and over to be lost in^ spray or flung onto the mudbanks; for the first time above the din of the firing I could hear human sounds,
shrieks of wounded and drowning men. Some may
lived through that first appalling maelstrom when
bridge gave way, but not many, for even as they
Tied downstream our horse artillery were tearing along
i-e southern shore, unlimbering, and wheeling their pie- ^t to rake the river from bank to bank with grape and sinister, churning it into a foaming slaughterhouse. The
Yankees talk of "shooting fish in a barrel"; that was the
fate of the Khalsa, floundering and helpless, in the Sutlej.
Farther up, beyond the bridge, the carnage was even
worse, for there the water was shallower, and as the great
close-packed mass of fugitives struggled neck-deep to
cross the ford they were caught in a murderous crossfire
of musketry and artillery. Even those who managed to
reach the north bank were caught in the deadly hail of
grape as they struggled ashore, and only a few, I'm told,
managed to scramble away to safety.
Below me, bodies both still and struggling were being
borne past or swept ashore by a brown tide hideously
streaked with red, while the shot lashed the water around
them; close to the shore, where the current bore in most
strongly, the Sutlej was running blood.
Directly across from my position, I could see the red
coats of our infantry, British and Indian, lining the banks, firing as fast as they could load; among them were horseguns
and captured camel-swivels pouring their fire into the
stricken wreck of an army. Shots were slapping into the
bank below me, and I huddled back into my refuge, flat on roy face and instinctively clawing the soil as though to
burrow into it. How long it lasted, I can't say; ten "linutes, perhaps, and then that hellish cannonade began to ^ken, a bugle on the far side was blowing the cease-
e, and gradually the guns fell silent, and the only sound ""ny half-deafened ears was the river rushing past.
'ay for a good half-hour, too shaken to drag myself ^om the bosom of Mother Earth, and then I inched my far orwar(^ on the ledge and looked down. Below me, as c^I ^"Id see on either hand, the shore was thick with
I"^' .^nie on the bank itself, others washing to and fro e crimson shallows, more drifting by on the current.
341
Out in the stream, the low mud-banks were covered with
them. Here and there a few were stirring, but I don't H
recall hearing a single cry; that was the uncanny pan of it H
for on every other battle-field I've seen there's been a ^^ ceaseless chorus of screams and wails above the groaning hum of the wounded and dying. Here, there was nothino
but the swish of the stream through the reeds. I lay, staring
down in the noon sunlight, too used up to move, and
by and by there were no more bodies drifting down from
the upper ford and the shattered bridgeheads and the
smoking lines of Sobraon. Then the vultures came, but
you won't care to hear of that, and I didn't care to watch' I closed my stinging eyes and rested my head on my arms,
listening to the distant thump of explosions from the other
shore as the fires burning in the Sikh lines reached the
abandoned magazines. The hutments at the bridgehes were burning, too, and the smoke was hanging low ovi
the river.
If you wonder why I continued to lie there, it was part
exhaustion, but mostly caution. I knew there must be some
survivors on my side of the water, doubtless full of spleen
and resentment, and I'd no wish to meet them. There was
no sound from the reserve positions behind me, and I
imagined the Sikh gunners had taken their leave, but I
wasn't stirring until I was sure of a clear coast and friends at
hand. I doubted if our lot would cross the river today; John
Company would be dog-tired, binding his wounds, taking off his boots, and thanking God that was the end of it. |
For it was over now, no question. In most wars; yo11 see, killing is only the means to a political end, but in the
Sutlej campaign it was an end in itself. The war bad bew fought to destroy the Khalsa, root and branch, and tD
result was lying in uncounted thousands on the t>
below Sobraon. The Sikh rulers and leaders  engineered it, John Company had executed it. an^,, Khalsa had gone to the sacrifice. Well, salaam Khoi' Sat-sree-akal. High time, mind you. ,
"For that little boy. And for their salt." Gardner's
words came back to me as I lay on that sandy ledge, letting
the pictures of memory have their way, as they will on the
edee of sleep ... the bearded faces of those splendid
battalions, in review at Maian Mir, and swinging down to
the war through the Moochee Gate . . . Imam Shah staring
down at the petticoat draped across his boot. . . Maka
Khan grim and straight while the punches roared behind
him ... "To Delhi! To London!" . . . that raging Akali,
arm outflung in denunciation . . . Sardul Singh shouting
with excitement as we rode to the river . . . the old rissaldar-major, tears streaming down his face ...
... and a red and gold houri wantoning it in her durbar,
teasing them in her cups, cajoling them, winning them, so
that she could betray them to this butchery . . . standing
half-naked above the bleeding rags of her brother's body,
sword in hand ... "I will throw the snake in your
bosom!" Well, she'd done all of that. Jawaheer was paid
for.
I And if you ask me what she'd have thought if she could we gazed into some magic crystal that day, and seen the rijesult of her handiwork along the banks of the Sutlej . . . yell, I reckon she'd have smiled, drunk another slow yaught, stretched, and called in Rai and the Python.
343
They say ten thousand Khalsa died in the
Sutlej. Well, I didn't mind, and I still don't. They started
it, and hell mend them, as old Colin Campbell used to say.
And if you tell me that every man's death diminishes me,
I'll retort that it diminishes him a hell of a sight more, and
if he's a Khalsa Sikh, serve him right.
Knowing me, you won't marvel at my callousness, but
you may wonder why Paddy Gough, as kindly an old stick
as ever patted a toddler's head, hammered 'em so
mercilessly when they were beat and running. Well, he
had good reasons, one being that you don't let up on a
courageous adversary until he hollers "Uncle!", which
the Sikhs ain't inclined to do - and I wouldn't trust 'em if
they did. Nor do you feel much charity towards an enemy
who never takes prisoners, and absolutely enjoys chopping
up wounded, as happened at Sobraon and
Ferozeshah both. Even if Gough had wanted to stop the
slaughter, I doubt if anyone would have heeded him.50
But the best reason for murdering the Khalsa was that if enough of the brutes had escaped, the whole beastly business
would have been to do again, with consequent loss of
British and Sepoy lives. That's something the moralists
overlook (or more likely don't give a dam about) whe" they cry: "Pity the beaten foe!" What they're saying,ffl effect, is: "Kill our fellows tomorrow rather than tn<- enemy today." But they don't care to have it put to the
like that; they want their wars won clean and comforta0,
with a clear conscience. (Their consciences being ^ more precious than their own soldiers' lives, you v
-d) Well, that's fine, if you're sitting in the Liberal ^h with a bellyful of port on top of your dinner, but if
yang the bell and it was answered not by a steward
..u a napkin but an Akali with a tulwar, you might hanged your mind. Distance always lends enlightenment ?o the view, I've noticed.
Being uncomfortable close, myself, my one concern
when I'd slept the night away was to slide out in safety and
rejoin the army. The difficulty was that when I crawled out
of my refuge and stood up, I tumbled straight down again
and almost rolled over the ledge. I had another go, with the
same result, and realised that my head ached, I felt shockingly
ill and dizzy, I was sweating like an Aden collier, and
some infernal Sutlej bug was performing a polka in my
lower bowels. Dysentery, in fact, which can be anything
from fatal to a damned nuisance, but even at best leaves
you weak as a rat, which is inconvenient when the nearest
certain help is twenty miles away. For while I could hear
our bugles playing Charlie, Charlie across the river, I
wasn't fit to holler above a whimper, let alone swim.
By moving mostly on hands and knees I made a
cautious scout of the emplacements on the bank behind me ; luckily they were empty, the Sikh reserve having
decamped, taking their guns with them. But that was
small consolation, and I was considering the wild notion of trawling down to the corpse-littered bank, finding a piece of ^mber, and floating down to Ferozepore ghat, when ""t of the dawn mist came the prettiest sight I'd seen that ^ar - the blue tunics and red puggarees of a troop of
^'ve Cavalry, with a pink little comet at their head. I
aved ^d yelped feebly, and when I'd convinced him
 ^sn't a fugitive gorrachar' and received the inevit-
le, heart-warming response ("Not Flashman - Flash,1
" of Afghanistan, surely? Well, bless me!") we got
""g famously.
(x;g y ^re 8th Lights from Grey's division which had Etching the river at Attaree, and had been ordered
- . 345
across the previous night as soon as Gough knew he had
the battle won. More of our troops were invading over the
Ferozepore ghat and Nuggur Ford, for Paddy was in a
sweat to secure the northern bank and tidy up ihp
remnants of the Khalsa before they could get up to mischief.
Ten thousand had got away from Sobraon, with all
their reserve guns, and there were rumoured to be
another twenty thousand up Amritsar way, as well as the
hill garrisons - far more than we had in the field ourselves.
"But they ain't worth a button now!" cries my pink lad.
"The shave is that their sirdars have hooked it, and
they're quite without supplies or ammunition. And the
hidin' they got yesterday will have knocked all the puff
out of 'em, I dare say," he added regretfully. "I say, were
you in the thick of it? Lor', don't I just wish I'd had your
luck! Of all the beastly sells, to be ploddin' up an' down
on river patrol, and not so much as a smell of a Sikh the |
whole time! What I'd give for a cut at the rascals!" |
Between his babble and having to totter into the bushes
every half-mile while the troop tactfully looked the other
way, I was in poor trim by the time we reached Nuggur
Ford, where they slung me a hammock in a makeshift
hospital basha, and a native medical orderly filled me with
jalap. I gave my little fire-eater a note to be forwarded to
Lawrence, wherever he was, describing my whereabouts
and condition, and after a couple of days in that mouldering
hovel, watching the lizards scuttle along the musty beams
and wishing I were dead, received the following reply:
Political Department, r Camp, Kussoor. ^ February 13,1846.
My dear Flashman - I rejoice that you are safe- and trust that when this reaches you, your indi5'
position will have mended sufficiently to ena"
you to join me here without delay. The matter
urgent. Yrs & c, H. M. Lawrence.
It gave me qualms, I can tell you; "urgent matters"
were the last thing I needed just then. But it was reassuring
too, for there was no reference to my Dalip fiasco,
and I guessed that Goolab had lost no time in advising
Lawrence and Hardinge that he was looking after the lad
like a mother hen. Still, I hadn't covered myself with
glory, and knowing Hardinge's dislike of me it was surprising
to find myself in such demand; I'd have thought
he'd be happy to keep me at arm's length until the peace
settlement was concluded. I knew too much about the
whole Punjabi mischief for anyone's comfort, and now
that they'd be patching it all up to mutual satisfaction and
profit, with lofty humbug couched in fair terms, neither
side would want to be reminded of all the intrigue and
knavery that had been consummated at Moodkee and
Ferozeshah and Sobraon; things would be easier all round
if the prime agent in the whole foul business wasn't leering
coyly at the back of the durbar tent when they signed the
peace. El ||
And it wasn't just that I'd be a spectre at the diplomatic feast. I suspected that Hardinge's aversion to me was
rooted in a feeling that I spoiled the picture he had in mind of the whole Sikh War. My face didn't fit; it was a
blot on the landscape, all the more disfiguring because he knew it belonged there. I believe he dreamed of some "oble canvas, for exhibition in the great historic gallery of
Public approval - a true enough picture, mind you, of
ntish heroism and faith unto death in the face of imposse
dds; aye, and of gallantry by that stubborn enemy ^ro died on the Sutlej. Well, you know what I think of
ism and gallantry, but I recognise 'em as only a born ^ard can. But they would be there, rightly, on the noble
main38' wlt^1 ^^mge stem and forbearing, planting a
a"8111^ boot on a dead Sikh and raising a penitent,
t^ruck Dalip by the hand, while Gough (off to one
' Pressed heaven with upraised sword before a ground of cannon-smoke and resolute Britons
_ 347
bayoneting gnashing niggers and Mars and Mother India
floating overhead in suitable draperies. Dam' fine.
Well, you can't mar a spectacle like that with a Punch cartoon border of Flashy rogering dusky damsels and spying
and conniving dirty deals with Lal and Tej, can you
now?
However, Lawrence's summons had to be obeyed, so I
struggled from my bed of pain, removed my beard
obtained a clean set of civilian linens, hastened down to
Ferozepore by river barge, and tooled up to Kussoor looking
pale and interesting, with a cushion on my saddle.
While I'd been laid up with the dolorous skitters,
Gough and Hardinge had been prosecuting the peace with
vigour. Paddy had the whole army north of the Sutlej
within three days of Sobraon, and Lawrence had been in
touch with Goolab, who now figured it was safe to accept
openly the Wazirship which the Khalsa had been pressing
on him, and come forward to negotiate on their behalf.
There were still upward of thirty thousand of them under
arms, you remember, and Hardinge was on fire to come to
terms before the brutes could work up a new head of steam. For it was a ticklish position, politically: we simply
hadn't the men and means, as Paddy had pointed out, to
conquer the Punjab; what was needed was a treaty that
would give us effective control, dissolve the last remnants
of the Khalsa, and keep Goolab, Jeendan, and the rest of
the noble scavengers content. So Hardinge, with a speed
and zeal which would have been useful months ago, had
his terms cut and dried and ready to shove down Goolab s
throat a mere five days after the war ended. ,
Kussoor lies a bare thirty miles from Lahore, an
Hardinge had installed himself and his retinue in tene
near the old town, with the army encamped on the pi
around. As I trotted through the lines I could feelthat of contented elation that comes at the end of a t^"^0;
the men are tired, and would like to sleep for a year,
i they don't want to miss the warm feeling of survival
comradeship, so they lie blinking in the sun, or roi^e themselves to skylark and play leapfrog. I remember  He
lancers at baseball, and a young gunner sitting on a lt-iher
licking his pencil and writing to the dictation 00* a
farner-sergeant with his arm in a sling: "... an' r^ll
Sammy 'is Dad 'as got a Sikh sword wot 'e shall 'ave if f "s
bin good, an' a silk shawl for 'is Mum - stay, make thai)1 is
dear Mum an' my best gel ..." Sepoys were at (to^l,
groups of fellows in vests and overalls were boiling thrtUr
billies on the section fires, the long tent-lines and ruined
mosques drowsed in the heat, the bugles sounded in t 1(e
distance, the reek of native cooking wafted down from *<e
host of camp-followers, fifty thousand of them, camppd
beyond the artillery park, somewhere a colour serge^t
was waking the echoes, and a red-haired ruffian witlit" a
black eye was tied to a gun-wheel for field punishment,
exchanging genial abuse with his mates. I stopped fo^a
word with Bob Napier the sapper,51 who had his easel fl ip
and was painting a Bengali sowar sweating patiently in t *'U
fig of blue coat, red sash, and white breeches, but tok
care to avoid Gravedigger Havelock, who sat reading outside
his tent (the Book of Job, most likely). It was all csftn ^d lazy; after sixty days of fire and fury, in which the^d
held the gates of India, the Army of the Sutlej was at peao^.
They'd earned it. There were 1400 fewer of them ttfhn Aere had been, and 5000 wounded in the Ferozep.cXfe arracks; against that, they'd killed 16,000 Punjabis s ^d
woken the best army east of Suez. There was a gnAt
outcry at home, by the way, over our losses; having se^n "ie savagery of two of the four battles, and knowing : Ie
quality of the enemy, I'd say we were lucky the butch^'s
' was so small - with Paddy in charge it was nothxfcg
" of a miracle.
Qua tllere was an unbuttoned air about the troops, he^lHar^ resembled HOTSe Guards during a fire alai^. 'Qge had just issued a proclamation to say that ie ^ over, it had aU been the Sikhs' fault, we desi:i.iy
no extension of territory and were fairly bursting with
pacific forbearance, but if the local rulers didn't cooperate
to rescue the state from anarchy, H.M.G. would have
to make "other arrangements", so there. In consequence
messengers scurried, clerks sweated, armies of bearers ran
about with everything from refreshments to furniture, and
bouquets of new young aides lounged about looking
bored. No doubt I'm uncharitable, but I've noticed that as
soon as the last shot's fired, platoons of these exquisites
arrive as by magic, vaguely employed, haw-hawing fortissimo, pinching the gin to make "cock-tails", and stinking
of pomade. There was a group outside Lawrence's tent,
all guffaws and fly-whisks.
"I say, you, feller," says one. "Can't go in there.
Major ain't receivin' civilians today."
"Oh, please, sir," says I, uncovering, "it's most
awfully important, you know."
"If you're sellin' spirits," says he, "go an' see the what
d'ye call him, Tommy? Oh, yaas, the khansamah the
butler to you, Snooks."
"Who shall I say sent me?" says I, humbly. "Major
Lawrence's doorkeepers?"
"Mind your manners, my man!" cries he. "Who the
devil are you, anyway?"
"Flashman," says I, and enjoyed seeing them gap,
"No, no, don't get up - you might land on your arse. An' speaking of butlers, why don't you go and help Bax" polish the spoons?"
I felt better after that, and better still when Lawrence at first sight of me, dismissed his office-wallahs and sn
hands as though he meant it. He was leaner and D1 harassed than ever, in his shirt-sleeves at a table lit^ with papers and maps, but he listened intently to ^ recital of my adventures (in which I made no ^l'en whatever of Jassa), and dismissed my failure to de Dalip as of no account. "Not your fault," snaps h6'l , curt style. "Goolab writes that the boy is well tha
that matters. Anyway, that's past. My concern is the
future - and what I have to tell you is under the rose.
Clear?" He fixed me with that gimlet eye, pushed out his
lantern jaw, and pitched in.
"Sir Henry Hardinge doesn't like you, FIashman. He
thinks you're a whippersnapper, too independent, and
careless of authority. Your conduct in the war - with which
I'm well pleased, let me tell you - doesn't please him. 'Broadfoot antics', you understand. I may tell you that
when he learned that Goolab had got the boy, he spoke of
court-martialling you. Even wondered if you had acted in
collusion with Gardner. That's the curse of Indian politics,
they make you suspect everyone. Anyway, I soon disabused
him." For an instant I'll swear the dour horse face
was triumphant, then he was glowering again. "At all
events, he doesn't care for you, or regard you as reliable."
My own sentiments about Hardinge exactly, but I held
my peace.
"Now, Goolab Singh comes here tomorrow, to learn
the treaty terms - and I'm sending you to meet him and
conduct him into camp. That's why I summoned you. You
have the old fox's confidence, if anyone does, and I wish Aat to be seen and known. Especially by Sir Henry. He "layn't like it, but I want him to understand that you are "ecessary. Is that clear?"
I said it was, but why?
"Because when this treaty is settled -1 can't tell you the erms; they're secret until Goolab hears them - it is likely
at .a British presence will be required at Lahore, with a ^esldent' to keep the durbar on a tight rein. I'll be that
p nt ~ an(l I want you as my chief assistant."
corn ?111^ ^rom ^e S1'31 Henry, I guess it was as high a
^t!?^1 as wellington's handshake, or one of
rid'i s ^static moans. But it was so unexpected, and
| "Th01"'that! almost laughed aloud.
L th^ ^^y r^ putting you forward now. Goolab will
I ^nence grise, and if he is seen to respect and trust
I & 351
you, it will help me to win the G.G. over to your appointment."
He gave a sour grin. "They don't call us politicals
for nothing. I'll have to persuade Currie, too, and the rest
of the Calcutta wallahs. But I'll manage it."
When I think of the number of eminent men - and
women - who have taken me at face value, and formed a
high opinion of my character and abilities, it makes me
tremble for my country's future. I mean, if they can't spot me as a wrong 'un, who can they spot? Still, it's pleasant
to be well thought of, and has made my fortune, at the
expense of some hellish perils - and minor difficulties such
as conveying tactfully to Henry Lawrence that I wouldn't
have touched his disgusting proposal with a long pole. My
prime reason being that I was sick to loathing of India,
and the service, the Sikhs, and bloody carnage and deadly
danger, and being terrified and bullied and harried and used, when all I wanted was the fleshpots of home, and
bulling Elspeth and civilised women, and never to stir out
of England again. I daren't tell him that, but fortunately
there was a way out.
"That's most kind of you, sir," says I. "I'm honoured,
'deed I am. But I'm afraid I have to decline."
"What's that you say?" He was bristling in an instant;
ready to fight with his own shadow if it contradicted hiffli
was H.M.L.
"I can't stay in the Punjab, sir. And now that the war's
over, I intend to go home."
"Do you indeed? And may I ask why?" He was fairly
boiling.
"It's not easy to explain, sir. I'd take it as a favour
if you'd just allow me to decline - with regret, I assiu^ you-"
"I'll do no such thing! Can't stay in the puoj^ indeed!" He calmed abruptly, eyeing me. "Is this becau^ of Hardinge?" ^
"No, sir, not at all. I'm simply applying to ^e ^ home."
He sat back, tapping a finger. "You've never shirked so
there must be a good reason for this . .. this nonsense!
I Come, man - what is it? Out with it!"
"Very well, sir - since you press me." I figured it was
time to explode my mine. "The fact is, you ain't the only
one who wants me at Lahore. There is a lady there . . .
who has intentions - honourable, of course - and . . . well,
it won't do, you see. She's - "
"Good God!" I'm probably the only man who ever
made Henry Lawrence take the name of the Lord in vain.
I "Not the Maharani?"
I "Yes, sir. She's made it perfectly plain, I'm afraid. And
I'm married, you know." For some reason. God knows
what, I added: "Mrs Flashman wouldn't like it a bit."
He didn't say anything for about three minutes - d'you
know, I'm sure the blighter was absolutely wondering
what advantage there might be to having the Queen
Mother of the Punjab panting for his assistant. They're all
alike, these blasted politicals. Finally, he shook his head,
and said he took my point, but while it ruled out Lahore,
there was no reason why I should not be employed
elsewhere "No,
sir," says I, firmly. "I'm going home. If necess"y,
I'll sell out." Perhaps it was that I hadn't got over my
illness, but I was sick and tired and ready for a standup "ght if he wanted one. I think he sensed it, for he became
quite reasonable, and said he would see to it. He wasn't a "ad chap, you know, and quite half-human, as he showed towards the end of our conversation.
I can see that you might furnish me with material for bother romantic novel," says he, looking whimsical.
e" n^: is the lady as personable as they say?"
It k wasn>t ^e only one to ask me that kind of question.
ttas been my fate to make the acquaintance of several
y^rious beauties who excited the nrdy interest of my
ab^01^ ~ ^ recau Elgin going quite pink with curiosity ut Ae Empress of China, and the gleam in the eyes of
353
Colin Campbell and Hugh Rose when they cross- examined me about the Rani of Jhansi. Lincoln and
Palmerston, too. I told Lawrence she was a little stunner
but given to alcoholic excess, and on no account to be
trusted - political information, you see, but no lascivious
details. He said he'd be interested to meet her, and I
advised him that Gardner was his man.52
"You'll conduct Goolab Singh, at least," says he, which
I didn't mind, since it was sure to infuriate Hardinge, and
the next afternoon found me trotting out along the Lahore
road, in uniform again, to meet the elephant train bringing
the Khalsa emissaries down from Loolianee. Lawrence had
told me that they were to be shown no ceremony, and I
should wait about half a mile out and let them come to me,
for form's sake. But they halted a good mile from the town,
and I could see the mahouts picketing the beasts and tents
being raised for the sirdars, while a small body of gorracharra mounted guard about them; I continued to sit my
pony, waiting, and presently I saw a solitary horseman
cantering down towards me, and it was Goolab himself. He
gave a wave and a great bellow of "Salaam, soldier!" as he
drew rein alongside, grinning all over his rogue's red face,
and taking my hand. To my surprise he was wearing no
armour or finery, only a simple robe and turban.
"It is not for the envoy of a beaten foe to come in state
and pride!" says he. "I am but a poor suppliant, seeking
mercy from the Maiki lat, and so I dress the part. And a
single soldier comes to meet me - albeit a distinguished
one. Ah, well, these are hard times." .
I asked him where Dalip was. "In good hands. A w"11" child, who shows me no respect; he has been too niuc
among women, so doubtless they will be his dowm
some day. Presently I shall bring him - leading him by1" hand, remember?" He chuckled and looked sly. 'B^ only when the treaty is agreed beyond peradventure; u then I keep the bird in my hand." ^
We were moving at a walk towards the Kussoor U11
for he seemed in no hurry; indeed, for a man bound on a
delicate embassy he was uncommon carefree, joking and
making small talk, with an air of great contentment. Only
when I mentioned that I'd be going home in a day or two,
did he rein up in astonishment.
"But why? When fortune awaits you here? No - not
that royal slut in Lahore Fort! Gurdana has told me of
that; you would not be such a fool! As well mate with a
krait. But in Kashmir, with me!" He was grinning and
frowning together. "Did you doubt me, when I promised
you a golden future yonder? Regiments to command, a
general's rank, lordships and revenues - Gurdana has
accepted already! Aye, he leaves Lahore, to come to me!
And why should not you? Is the Bloody Lance of
Afghanistan less of a soldier than Gurdana, or that dogdirt
Harlan, who lorded it under Runjeet, or Avitabile
and the rest?" He struck me on the shoulder. "And we
have stood up together, you and I - and who stands with
Goolab has a friend!"
If that was how he remembered our scuffle in the
Lahore alleys, let him - but wasn't there a movement to
recruit Flashy these days, just? Reputation and credit,
there's no currency to touch them. Lawrence, Goolab . . .
even a queen setting her cap at me. Aye, but they ain't
home. I thanked him, explaining politely that I wasn't a
tidier of fortune, and he shook his head, threw up his
great shoulders, and let it go. I asked him if he was so sure
01 getting Kashmir, and he said it was in the treaty. It was
"^ turn to stare.
^But the terms are secret - you don't know 'em yet!"
Do I not? Oh, not from Lawence Sahib, or any of your
^Ple." He rumbled with laughter. "Is this the Punjab,
^11 I not know what passes? A treaty of sixteen
^"cles, whereby the durbar will give up to Britain the
tle] banks, and the JuUundur Doab, and keep only a
utch.* Knai^ ^ ^ oqq bayonets and 12,000
Verier. ' J
355  :
horse, and pay a mighty indemnity of a million and a half
sterling . . ." He burst out laughing at my amazement
"You need not tell Lawrence Sahib and the Maiki lat that
I know it all - let them sleep at nights! But if you should it
is no matter - they will keep the bargain, because it is all
they need - a rich province of the Punjab, to punish us and
show the world the folly of challenging the Sirkar; a tiny
feeble Khalsa - oh, aye, to be commanded by that lion
among warriors, Tej Singh, with Lal as Wazir; and a submissive
durbar to do your bidding, with Dalip and his
mother obedient puppets - handsomely subsidised, to be
sure. So the Punjab remains free - but its mistress is the
White Queen."
I didn't doubt his information - in a land of spies there
are no secrets. And it was the best of bargains for us:
control without conquest. One thing, though, I couldn't
see.
"How on earth is the Lahore durbar to pay a fine of a
million and a half? They're bankrupt, ain't they?"
"Assuredly. So, having no money, they will pay in
kind - by ceding Kashmir and the hill country to the
British."
< "And we'll give you Kashmir, for services rendered?"
He sighed. "No . . . you will sell me Kashmir, for half a
million. Your countrymen don't overlook opportunities
for profit. And they say the Jews are sharp! The price is not mentioned in the treaty - nor is another item which is
to be surrendered as a token of Punjabi good faith and
loyalty."
"What's that?"
"You have heard of our Mountain of Light - Koh-iNoor,
the great diamond of Golconda? Well, that too is to
be taken from us, as a trophy for your Queen." ,
"Ye don't say? Her Majesty's share of the loot, e"Eill
'i'::. Well, well!" ...,:, ?, ,
"Let her have it," says Goolab magnanimously.
the strong, the prize. And to the patient, gold-bought
slave .. Kashmir."
Hardinge evidently hadn't been warned that I was
infesting headquarters again, for he started visibly when I
ushered Goolab into the big durbar tent, and darted an
indignant glance at Lawrence. There was a fine gallery,
including Mackeson, who had narrowly lost the Agent's
post to Lawrence after Broadfoot's death; Currie, the
government secretary; and any number of "Calcutta wallahs",
as Lawrence had called them. As I presented "His
Highness, the Raja Goolab Singh", I could almost read
Hardinge's mind: conspiracy, he was thinking, the little
bugger's been wangling a 99-year lease on the Khyber
Pass. He was all frost and dignity to Goolab, who truckled
like a good 'un, leaning on a stick and making much of his
gouty foot in the hope of being asked to sit, which he
wasn't; Hardinge returned his greeting with a formal
statement conveying (but without saying so, for he was a
dab hand at diplomatic chat) that the terms which he
would shortly hear had been designed to cut the Punjab
down to size, and they could think themselves lucky to get
off so lightly. He then turned the old chief over to Currie
and Lawrence, who would explain the treaty, and they
took him off. Hardinge gave me another cold glare, and
for a moment I thought he was going to address me, but
he changed his mind; from the way the Calcutta toadies
sniffed and eyed me askance I could see that the word was
ut that Flashy was a Bad Penny, so I lit a cheroot, hoping
to be rebuked; I wasn't, so I tooled out to take the air.
Lawrence had told me that morning that I should go "own to Umballa the following day (and so home, thank Godl), so when I left the durbar I made a few calls, to
"ect letters and any trinkets that my comrades might want ^ansported - quicker and safer than the Army post,
u se. There was general lamentation at my departure vor bs Thomas Hughes has told you, I had a gift of
PPularity), and dear old Paddy Gough absolutely called
357
me into his command tent arid insisted on my having a
glass with him.
"The best men always get kilt, or married, or retire!" says he, pledging me. "Ye've done the last two, Hashman,
my son - here's wishin' you never do the first! Which
reminds me - did ye give that neckercher back after
Ferozeshah? Ye did nott, ye light-fingered young divil!
Would ye believe it. Smith - a staff galloper that plunders
his own gineral's effects in the presence o' the inimy? He
did, though! Ye niwer saw the like o' that in the Peninsula,
I'll be bound!"
This was to Harry Smith, looking more like Wellington
than usual. "Never trust a political," says he. "Health,
Flashman." And as they drank, d'ye know, I felt quite
moved, for Paddy had been having some conference or
other, and his marquee was full of leading men - Joe
Thackwell, and Gilbert with his arm in a sling from
Sobraon, and the Gravedigger, and younger fellows like
Edwardes, and Johnny Nicholson, and Rake Hodson, and
Hope Grant. Well, 'tisn't every day you have your health
drunk by chaps like those.53
Their talk was all of Sobraon, of course: the Gravedigger
had had his fifth horse of the campaign shot out
from under him, and Thackwell said they'd have to start
charging him for remounts; Harry Smith said it was the
fourth worst scrap he'd ever been in, the first three being
Waterloo, Badajoz, and New Orleans, in that order,
which set them arguing; old M'Gregor, the poultice-walloper,
enthralled me with a charming dissertation on the
different effects on the frame of a musket ball and a
grapeshot, with a tasteful description of knee-wounds;^ and I made them laugh with my account of Tej Singbs funkhole, and a modestly doctored version of my escape across the Sutlej. 
"An' I thought it was just Sikhs we were shootin' a1- cries Hodson. "Oh, Flashy, if only we'd known!"
And in the midst of all the noise and laughter wb
358 I
should come mincing in but the little squirt of an aide with
whom I'd bandied words outside Lawrence's tent the day
before. In that company you'd have thought he'd have
slipped in quietly, but he was fresh from Eton or Addiscombe
or one of those shops, for he marched straight up
to Paddy's table, took off his hat, and in a shrill voice
asked permission to deliver a message from the GovernorGeneral.
No compliments, or anything of the sort, but
Paddy, at ease with his glass, and supposing it was for him,
told him to fire away. The squirt turned to me with a
malicious glint in his eye.
"Mr Flashman!" squeaks he, and as he spoke the chatter
died away altogether. "Sir Henry Hardinge understands
that you are leaving the Army of the Sutlej
tomorrow. He instructs me to tell you that your services
are no longer required on his personal staff, and that you
are to consider yourself withdrawn from all military and
political duties forthwith. I am also to remind you that
smoking in the durbar tent is strictly prohibited."
There wasn't a sound for a moment, except M'Gregor's
wheezing. Then someone said "Good God!" And I,
dumbfounded by that deliberate insult, uttered in the
presence of the flower of the Army, somehow found the
wit to reply quietly.
"My compliments to the Governor-General," says I,
"and my thanks for his courtesy. That's all. You can go."
He couldn't, though. While everyone, after a stunned
pause, was talking to his neighbour loudly as though
nothing had happened, the Gravedigger was looming over
the squirt like an avenging angel.
 'By!" thunders he, and I'll swear the lad quivered.
Ai'e you lost to propriety? Are you unaware that a per- ^nal communication is delivered in private? Outside, sir, ^s instant! And when you have purged your insolence,
yu may return, to offer your apology to this officer, and 10 the Commander-in-Chief! Now - go!"
"I was told-" pipes the oaf.
. 359
"Do you defy me?" roars Havelock. "Go!"
 And he went, leaving me with my cheeks burning, and
black rage inside me. To be spoken to, in that company,
by a niddering green from the nursery, and not a thing to
be done about it. But it couldn't have happened before
better men; in a moment they were laughing and prosing
away, and Gough gave me a grin and a shake of the head.
Harry Smith got to his feet, and as he passed out he
clapped my arm and whispered: "Hardinge never
intended that, you know." And Johnny Nicholson and
Hodson rallied round, and M'Gregor told a joke about
amputations.
Looking back, I don't blame Hardinge, altogether.
With all his faults, he knew what was fitting, and I don't
doubt that, in his irritation at seeing me to the fore with
Goolab, he had muttered something like: "That damned
pup is everywhere! Leaving tomorrow, is he? Not before
time! Tell him he's suspended from duty, before he does
any more mischief! And smoking, too, as though he were
in a pot-house!" And Charlie, or someone, passed it on,
and the squirt was given the message, and thought to hand
me a set-down. He knew no better. Aye, but Hardinge
should have seen that the thing was done decently - dammit,
he could have sent for me himself, and coupled
rebuke with a word of thanks for my services, whether he
meant it or not. But he hadn't, and his creature had made
me look a fool. Well, perhaps two could play at that game.
In the meantime, old Goolab Singh was closeted in talk
with Currie and Lawrence, and no doubt holding up h15 paws in horror as each successive clause of the treatyw^ put to him.55 I'm sure he never let on that he knew it a" beforehand, but had a jolly time shaking his grizz^ beard and protesting that the durbar would never agree
such harsh terms. The negotiations went on all afternoo
and evening - leastways, Goolab did, for Currie g^6 '
after a few hours, and left him, and Lawrence lay d0^.
his charpoy and pretended sleep. It was all gammon'
Goolab was bound to agree in the end, but he kept at it for
appearance's sake, and didn't run out of wind till the
small hours. I was on hand, indulging my 'satiable curiosity,
when Lawrence saw him off, but didn't speak to
him. He limped away from the tent, climbed stiffly aboard
Iris pony, and trotted off towards the sirdars' camp, and
that was the last I ever saw of him, a burly old buffer on
horseback, looking like All Baba off to gather .firewood in
the moonlight.56
"All right and tight, and ready to be signed when we
come to Lahore," says Lawrence. "Prosy old beggar.
Well pleased, though, if I'm a judge. He should be - you
don't have a kingdom dropped into your lap every day.
He'll bring the little Maharaja to Hardinge in a day or
two." He yawned and stretched, looking at the night sky.
"But by then you'll be hasting home, you fortunate fellow.
Stay a moment and we'll have a rum-shrub to set you
on your way."
This was condescension, for he wasn't sociable as a
rule. I took a turn along the tent-lines as I waited, admiring
the moon shadows drifting across the empty doab, and
looking along the grey, straight ribbon of the Lahore road
which. God willing, I'd never take again. Not long ago it
had shaken to the tramp of a hundred thousand men, and
the rumble of great guns , .. "Khalsa-ji! To Delhi, to
London!" . ;. and the march had ended in the burning "lins of Ferozeshah and the waters under Sobraon. The ^riwind had come raging out of the Five Rivers country, ^d now it was gone without a whisper . .. and as ^wrence put it, I was hasting home.
Hardinge had his peace, and his hand on the reins of the "ojab. Goolab had his Kashmir, Britain her frontier ^yond (he Sutlej where the hills began, and the northern ^OOT of India was fast against the Moslem tide. Little
^P would have his throne, and his delectable mother
, Mappings of power and luxurious ease with all the ze and bed-men she desired (with one grateful excep-


361

tion). Tej Singh and Lal Singh could enjoy the fruits of
their treachery, and old Paddy had still "niwer bin bate".
Alick Gardner would have his fine estate in the high hills
beyond Jumoo, dreaming no doubt of far Wisconsin, and
Broadfoot and Sale and Nicolson their lines in the Gazette. Maka Khan and Imam Shah had their graves by
Sobraon ghat (although I didn't know that, then). Mangia
was still the richest slave-girl in Lahore, and like to be
richer ... I could feel a twinge at the thought of her - and
still do, whenever I see black gauze. And Jassa had got an
open road out of town, which is usually the best his kind
can ever hope for.
All in all ... not a bad little war, would you say?
Everyone had got what they wanted, more or less ...
perhaps, in their own mad way, even the Khalsa. Twenty
thousand dead, Sikh, Indian, and British ... a lot of good
men, as Gardner said. But . . . peace for the rest, and
plenty for the few. Which reminds me, I never did discover
what happened to the Soochet legacy.
No one could foresee, then, that it would all be to do
over, that in three short years the Sikhs would be in arms
again, Paddy's white coat would come out of the closet
reeking of camphor, and the bayonets and tulwars would
cross once more at Chillianwalla and Gujerat. And afterwards,
the Union Flag would fly over the Punjab at last,
Broadfoot could rest easy, and the twice-beaten but
never-conquered Khalsa would be reborn in the regiments
which stood fast in the Mutiny and have held the Ra)s northern border all through my time. For the White
Queen ... and for their salt. The little boy who'd exulted
over my pepperbox and ridden laughing to Jupindar rocks
would live out a wastrel life in exile, and Mai Jeendan, the
dancing queen and Mother of all Sikhs, her appetite
undiminished and her beauty undimmed, would ps^ away, of all places, in England.*
1;i *See Appendix II.
Ill1
But all that happened another day, when I was up the
Mississippi with the bailiffs after me. My Punjab story
ends here, and I can't croak, for like all the others I too
had my heart's desire - a whole skin and a clear run home.
I wouldn't have minded a share of the credit, but I didn't
care that much. Most of my campaigns have ended with
undeserved roses all the way to Buckingham Palace, so I
can even smile at the irony that when, for once, I'd done
good service (funking, squealing, and reluctant, I admit)
and come close to lying in the ground for it, all I received
was the cold shoulder, to be meekly endured . . . well,
more or less.
Lawrence and I walked over to the big marquee which
served as mess and dining-room; everyone seemed to be
there, for Hardinge had waited up for news of the treaty
talk with Goolab, and he and the Calcutta gang were
enjoying a congratulatory prose before turning in.
Lawrence gave me a quick glance as we entered, as much as
to say would I rather we went to his quarters, but I steered
ahead; Gough and Smith and the best of the Army were
there, too, and I chaffed with Hodson and Edwardes while
Lawrence called up the shrub. I downed a glass to settle
myself, and then took an amble over to where Hardinge
was sitting, with Currie and the other diplomatics.
"Good evening, sir," says I, toady-like, "or good
morning, rather. I'm off today, you know."
"Ah, yes," says he, stuffy offhand. "Indeed. Well,
good-bye, Flashman, and a safe journey to you." He
didn't offer his hand, but turned away to talk to Currie.
'"Well, thank'ee, your excellency," says I. "That's
handsome of you. May I offer my congratulations on a
^uccessful issue from our recent . . . ah, troubles, and so
forth?"
. He shot me a look, his brow darkening, suspecting
'^lence but not sure. "Thank you," snaps he, and
"lowed me his shoulder.
Treaty all settled, too, I believe," says I genially, but
363
loud enough to cause heads to turn. Paddy had stopped
talking to Gilbert and Mackeson, Havelock was frowning under his beetle-brows, and Nicholson and Hope Grant
and a dozen others were watching me curiously. Hardinge
himself came round impatiently, affronted at my
familiarity, and Lawrence was at my elbow, twitching my
sleeve to come away.
"Good bandobast all round," says I, "but one of the
clauses will need a little arrangement, I fancy. Well
'tain't a clause, exactly . . . more of an understanding,
don't you know "
"Are you intoxicated, sir? I advise you to go to your
quarters directly!" '' ':'
"Stone cold sober, excellency, I assure you. The Leith
police dismisseth us. British constitution. No, you see,
one of the treaty clauses - or rather the understanding I
mentioned - can't take effect without my assistance. So
before I take my leave -" "a^; ;
"Major Lawrence, be good enough to conduct this officer
"
"No, sir, hear me out, do! It's the great diamond, you
see - the Koh-i-Noor, which the Sikhs are to hand over.
Well, they can't do that if they haven't got it, can they? So
perhaps you'd best give it 'em back first - then they can
present it to you all official-like, with proper ceremony
. . . Here, catch!"
[The ninth packet of the Flashman Papers ends here,
with typical abruptness. A few weeks later the Koh-iNoor
was again in the possession of the Lahore durbar,
and was shown round at the treaty ceremony, but
it was not finally surrendered until the annexation of
the Punjab in 1849 after the Second Sikh War. The
diamond was then presented to Queen Victoria by
Hardinge's successor, Lord Dalhousie. Doubtless on
, Flashman's advice, she did not wear it in her crown at
' the 1887 Jubilee. See Appendix III.
364 "|
APPENDIX I:
The Sutlej Crisis
The origins of the First Sikh War are not to be summed up
in a few paragraphs. Flashman has given a reasonably fair
account of the developing crisis, from close range, and
perhaps all that can usefully be done is to stand farther
back and try to balance some of the factors which seem
specially important.
It is easy to say that with a powerful, arrogant Khalsa
I bent on invasion, war was inevitable; no one in the Punjab
could restrain them (or wanted to), so what could the
British do but prepare to meet the storm? Something,
according to Cunningham, a most respected historian,
who believed that, while the Khalsa took the initiative,
I the British were "mainly to blame" for the war. His conclusion
has been eagerly seized on in some quarters, but
his argument boils down to the suggestion that Britain,
"an intelligent power" faced with "a half barbarous military
dominion", should have acted with more wisdom and
foresight. It is rather lofty, even for 1849, and perhaps
"equally" or "partially" would be fairer than "mainly".
At the same time, George Bruce is certainly right when he
accuses Hardinge of mental paralysis, and of making no
rational move to prevent war; he points to the massive
failure of communication. Still, considering the state of fhe Lahore durbar, and the motives at work among its
Principals, perhaps Britain should not be shouldered with
too much of the responsibility.
Granted that Broadfoot was not the ideal man for the ^nsitive post of North-west Agent. Like many Britons, he
bviously felt that the sooner Britain was running the
365
Punjab, the better - but then, considering what had been
happening north of the Sutlej for years, can he be blamed
for that? There is a tendency to cast him as the villain of
the piece, and certainly he was belligerently ready to
make the worst of the situation, but so were many on the
other side. Jeendan and her associates wanted the Khalsa
destroyed, and the Khalsa was ready to rush to destruction
- it would have taken an Agent of massive forbearance,
and a Governor-General of genius, which
Hardinge certainly was not, to settle matters peacefully.
The impression one gets of the British peace lobby, as
personified by Hardinge, is that they wished the Punjab
would go away - or rather that it would settle down into
the strong, disciplined stability it had known under
Runjeet Singh. But Hardinge had no idea of how that was
to be achieved.
On the Sikh side, one can understand their apprehension.
Below the Sutlej, they were well aware, was a giant
who had shown an alarming tendency to conquest - Sind
was a recent, appalling example. The Sikh who did not
take seriously the possibility that Britain was bent on swallowing
the Punjab, would have been a fool; if he was
objective, he would see the logic of it. That the Company
had neither the power nor the inclination for farther
expansion (for the moment, anyway) would not be
evident in Lahore. And the Khalsa? Bellicose, and itching
for a slap at the reigning champion as they were, they had
some reason to suspect that if they didn't start the fight,
Britain would. ,
These are very general observations, and to every one
of them can be added the qualification "Yes, but .. '
One may scan Broadfoot's correspondence, or the provocations
offered from the Sikh side, in detail, but weighing
all such things as evenly as one can, it seems that the W happened because it was actively desired by the Khalsa.
with Jeendan and others egging them on for deplorable
reasons, while on the British side there were some, includ-
ing Hardinge, who lacked foresight and flexibility, and
others who were ready, with varying degrees of eagerness,
to let it happen. It should be remembered, too, that the
fighting men on either side underestimated each other; for
all their fears, the British, with far greater experience, had
a deep conviction of invincibility, and while it was rudely
shaken in the field, it was justified in the end. The Khalsa
seem to have had no doubts at all, and even with the
, treachery of their leaders stacked against them, they kept
| their confidence until the last moments of Sobraon.
| Even then, after the peace, with the Punjab a British [protectorate, the spirit of the Khalsa remained: they
would come again. The fuel was there, in the British
presence at Lahore which began by protecting the position
of the Punjab's nominal rulers and ended by assuming
power; in the intrigues of Jeendan and Lal Singh who
found the new order of things less rewarding than they
had expected (both were eventually exiled); but most of
all, perhaps, in the abiding belief of the Sikh soldiery that
what they had nearly done once could be done at the
second attempt. The result was the Second Sikh War of
1848-9, which ended in complete British victory - Gough,
hesitant for once, fought a costly action at Chillianwalla,
and was about to be replaced, but before his successor
arrived he had won the decisive victory at Gujerat. The Punjab was annexed, Dalip Singh was deposed, and as
Gardner had foretold, Britain inherited something "ifinitely more valuable than the Punjab or the Koh-iNoor
- those magnificent regiments whose valour and
loyalty became a byword for a hundred years, from the Great Mutiny to Meiktila and the Rangoon road.
APPENDIX II: ^ ,||
Jeendan and Mangia 
is^
There is no way of verifying all Flashman's recollections
of Maharani Jeendan (Jindan, Chunda) and her court;
one can say only that they are entirely consistent with the
accounts of reputable contemporary writers. "A strange
blend of the prostitute, the tigress, and Machiavelli's
Prince", Henry Lawrence called her, and he was right on
all three counts. Strikingly beautiful, brave, wanton, and
dissipated, a brilliant and unscrupulous politician and a
quite shameless exhibitionist, she would have been a darling
of the modem tabloid press, who could have invented
nothing more sensational than the story of her rise to
power, and her exploitation of it.
She was born apparently about 1818, the daughter of
Runjeet Singh's kennel-keeper, and for the lurid details of
her early life we are indebted to Carmichael Smyth; he
had much of his information from Gardner, who knew her
well and greatly admired her, and who has left an account
of his own. Jeendan's father was a sort of unlicensed jester
to Runjeet, and pestered the Maharaja with his daughter,
then only a child, suggesting jokingly that she would make
a suitable queen. Gardner's version has Runjeet taking
her into his harem, "where the little beauty used to gambol
and frolic and tease . . . and managed to captivate him in a way that smote the real wives with jealousy." She was
sent to a guardian in Amritsar when she was thirteen, a" went through a series of lovers before being brought bac
to Lahore "to enliven the night scenes of the palace". 1835 she went through a form of marriage with R11'1!^,,
but continued to take other lovers, with the Maharaja
368
knowledge and even (according to Smyth) his encouragement
- "to give a detail ... of scenes acted in the
presence of the old Chief himself and at his instigation,
would be an outrage on common decency." Not surprisingly,
when Dalip was born in 1837, there were doubts
about his paternity, but Runjeet was happy to acknowledge
him.
After the old Maharaja's death, little is heard of
Jeendan until Dalip's accession in 1843 (he was eight, not
seven, when Flashman knew him). Thereafter, as Queen
Mother and co-regent with her brother, she was occupied
with intrigue, pacifying the Khalsa, and what Broadfoot,
agog for scandal, called her misconduct and notorious
immorality. The Agent said he felt more like a parish
constable outside a brothel than a government representative,
compared her to Messalina, and was in no doubt that
drink and debauchery had turned her mind ("What do
you think ... of four young fellows changed as they cease
to give satisfaction passing every night with the Rani?").
No doubt he was ready to retail all the salacious gossip he
could get, with the implication that such a corrupt regime
called out for British intervention, but even allowing for
exaggeration there is no doubt that, as Khushwant Singh
Puts it, the durbar "abandoned itself to the delights of the
flesh". And even before her brother's murder Jeendan snd her confederates were conspiring to betray the ^untry for their safety and profit; Jawaheer's death was ^at finally determined her to launch the Khalsa to ^struction - "thus did the Rani ... plan to avenge her- seK on the murderers."
How she did it Flashman recounts fairly and in greater
etail than is to be found elsewhere. It was a delicate, ^gerous operation which she managed with consider- e skill, and unlike many later war criminals, she got ^ with it, for a time at least. After the war she con(ued
^ Regent until the end of 1846, when under a new ^ the British Resident at Lahore (Lawrence) was
_ it 369
given full authority, and Jeendan was pensioned off. She
did not take it meekly, and had to be removed from court
- "dragged out by the hair", in her own words - and kern under guard. Suspected of conspiracy, she was deported
from the Punjab - and suddenly, with discontent against
the British rising, she was a national heroine, and the
darling of the Khalsa again. But there was to be no happy
return, and when the Second Sikh War ended and Dalip
had gone into English exile, she followed him. She was
only in her mid-forties when she died, in 1863, and her son
took her ashes back to India. |
Mangia (or Mungela) was perhaps a more importanf
influence on the Lahore durbar than Flashman realised.
The child of white-slavers, she was born about 1815, and
sold by her parents when she was ten. She worked in a
brothel at Kangra and was bought by (or ran away with) a munshi, as his concubine, before setting up as a prostitute
on her own account in Lahore. She prospered, and
became the mistress of one Gulloo Mooskee, a personal
attendant of Runjeet Singh's. He passed her on to his
nephew, a lover of Jeendan's. This was in 1835, and the
two young women began a partnership in intrigue which
was to last for many years. Mangia became a member of
Runjeet's harem, and played a leading role in convincing
him that he was the father of Dalip Singh. In the next tea years she made herself indispensable to Jeendan as
adviser and go-between, became the lover of Jawaheer
Singh, and after his death obtained control of the
treasury, adding to her already considerable fortune. Lc^ beautiful than her friend and mistress, Mangia had "a pair
of fine hazel eyes of which she could make a most effective
use, and an easy, winning carriage and address".
(See Cannichael Smyth, Gardner, Khushwant Singh'
Bruce.) ^|
370
APPENDIX III:
The Koh'iNoor
The Koh-i-Noor has the long^t and most exotic history of
any existing jewel and, until t^e discovery of the Cullinan
diamond in 1905, was the lar^st and most precious stone
in the world. It is believed to have been mined from
Golconda, Hyderabad, in or ^fore the 12th century, and
subsequently passed through ^e hands of the Sultan Alaed-din,
the Mogul Emperors, "de Persian conqueror Nadir
Shah (who is said to have na^ed it "Mountain of Light"
in 1730), the rulers of the FMijab, and Queen Victoria,
before coming to rest among he British Crown Jewels in
the present century. Death, t'rture, imprisonment, ruin,
and exile befell so many of it5 Eastern owners that its illluck
(for male wearers) bec^e proverbial; in its time it
was hidden, unsuccessfully, "I the turban of a defeated
monarch, and in the mud wall f another's prison cell, and
for a time it lay forgotten in tt" pocket, and later the stud-
|box, of John Lawrence, Herd's brother.
Despite its fame, the Kob-'Noor has never been considered
an especially fine stt^e. Originally it was almost
800 carats (the Cullinan was ^06 carats, about 22 oz) but
|was later recut more than on^to increase its brilliance. In
1852 a Dutch cutter began wk in the presence of Prince
Albert and the Duke of W^ngton, and recut it to 108
carats; the result was a sto^ about U by Uin, much unproved but still considered lo shallow.
Only female members of t^ British Royal Family have ^rn the Koh-i-Noor. Queei1 Victoria wore it as a brooch at the Crystal Palace Exhibit^ of 1851, and in Paris, and rt has been in the crowns c^Queen Alexandra, Queen
.3^1
Notes
1. "A very extraordinary and interesting sight", as <1^ Queen
recorded in her journal on May 11,1887. [p. 13]
2. Whether at Flashman's prompting or not, the Quee< engaged
two Indian attendants in the following month, on^f whom
was the pushing and acquisitive Abdul Karim, ^own as
"Munshi" (teacher); he became almost as gre^ a royal
favourite as the celebrated ghillie, John Brown, }^ been,
and was even more unpopular at Court. "Munshi' not only
tutored the Queen in Hindustani, which she began } learn in
August 1887, but was given access to her correspondence,
blotted her signature, and even buttered her toast a^ea-time.
He claimed to be the son of an eminent physician (o -A rumour
said a Surgeon-General of the Indian Army) but instigation
showed that his father was a prison pharmacist at A.^a. There
was, as Flashman says, a very Indian flavour to WQueen's
Jubilee celebrations of 1887. During her reign, the population
of the rest of the Empire had increased from 4,oflo qqq to
16,000,000, while that of the sub-continent had ^en from
96,000,000 to a staggering 254,000,000. The Indiana isstivities
began on February 16, and ranged from illuminations and
banquets to the opening of new libraries, schools, hospitals,
and colleges all over the country; in Gwalior, a]] ^ears of
land-tax (1,000,000 in all) were remitted. In Britaii^tself the
celebrations did not reach their climax until June 21 ^ yhen the
Queen, at the head of a procession led by the India^ princes
attended a service in Westminster Abbey; there v ^.re loyal
demonstrations everywhere (except in Cork ano^ Dublin,
where there were riotous demonstrations), and inu*h rejoicag^n
the United States, where the Mayor of M?;^, York
presided over a great Festival of Thanksgiving. (W'TTie Life
and Times of Queen Victoria, vol. ii (1888), by Robert Wils0^,
which has a detailed account of the Jubilee; V^oria by
Stanley Weintraub (1987).) [p.]
373
3. Flashman's memory is slightly at fault here. He was not, as
he says, "retired on half-pay" at this time; in fact, he had
been in Singapore inspecting Australian horses for the East
India Company army, and it was during this visit that his
wife, Elspeth, was kidnapped by Borneo pirates, and the
adventure began which culminated in the Flashmans' rescue
from Madagascar in June, 1845. In the circumstances, his
failure to remember his exact military status is understand;
, able. As to his allowing himself to be bullied into going to
;(: India, he may not have been quite as reluctant as he sug-
'' gests; the Governor of Mauritius certainly had no power to
compel him, and it may well have been that the Punjab crisis
(which had not yet assumed serious proportions) seemed a
less daunting prospect than returning to face his ill-willers in
England, [p. 22]
4. "Elphy Bey" was Major-general William Elphinstone, commander
of the British force which was wiped out on the
retreat from Kabul in 1842, in which Flashman ingloriously
won his first laurels. A fine soldier who distinguished himself
at Waterloo, Elphinstone was hopelessly inept in
Afghanistan; crippled by gout, worn out, and according to
one historian, prematurely senile, he was incapable of
opposing either his political advisers or the Afghans, but in
fairness he was less to blame than those who appointed him
to a post for which he was unfitted. Flashman gives a perceptive
but characteristically uncharitable sketch of him in the
first volume of the Flashman Papers. (See also J. W.
Fortescue's History of the British Army, vol. xii (1927);
Subedar Sita Ram's From Sepoy to Subedar (1873), and
Patrick Macrory's Signal Catastrophe (1966).) [p. 23]
5. "John Company" - the Honourable East India Company,
described by Macaulay as "the strangest of all governments
... for the strangest of all empires", was Britain's presence
in India, with its own armed forces, civil service, and judi-
;; ciary, until after the Indian Mutiny of 1857, when it was
replaced by direct rule of the Crown. Flashman's definition
of its boundaries in 1845 is roughly correct, and although at
this period it controlled less than half of the subcontinent,
his expression "lord of the land" is well chosen: the Coi""
pany was easily the strongest force in Asia, and at its height
had a revenue greater than Britain's and governed abno^ one-fifth of the world's population. (See The East Indw
Company, by Brian Gardner (1971).)
Flashman, writing in the early years of the present century,
occasionally uses the word Sirkar when referring to the
British power; the word in this sense means "government",
but it was probably not applied exclusively to British authority
as early as 1845. [p. 24]
6. The origins and development of the Sutlej crisis are controversial,
and it is difficult even today to give an account
that will satisfy everyone; nevertheless, Flashman's summary
seems an eminently fair one. His racy little narrative of
the power struggle at Lahore after the death of Runjeet
Singh is accurate so far as it goes; indeed, it spares readers
some of the gorier details (no doubt only because Flashman
was unaware of them). His view of the gathering storm, the
precarious position of the Lahore durbar, the menace of the
Khalsa, and the misgivings of the British authorities about
the loyalty of their native troops, and their ability to deal
with an invasion, are reflected in the journals and letters of
his contemporaries. Other points and personalities he mentions
will be dealt with more fully in subsequent Notes. (See
Appendix I, and G. Carmichael Smyth, History of the Reigning
Family of Lahore (1847); W. Broadfoot, The Career of
Major George Broadfoot (1888); Charles, Viscount
Hardinge, Viscount Hardinge (1891); W. L. M'Gregor, History of the Sikhs, vol. ii (1846); Khushwant Singh, History of the Sikhs, vol. 2 (1966); J. D. Cunningham, History of the Sikhs (1849); George Bruce, Six Battles for
India (1969); Fortescue; Vincent Smith, Oxford History of
India (1920).) [p. 28]
^ Sir Hugh Gough (1779-1869) was that not unusual combination:
a stem and ruthless soldier, but a kindly and likeable
man. He was also entirely "Irish" - reckless, goodhumoured,
careless of convention and authority, and possessed
of great charm; as a general, he was unpredictable
and unorthodox, preferring to engage his enemy hand-tohand
and trust to the superiority of the British bayonet and
sabre rather than indulge in the sophistications of
manoeuvre. He attracted numerous critics, who drew attention
to his shortcomings as a military organiser and tactician
but could not deny his saving grace as a commander - he kept on winning. By 1845 he had a combat record
unequalled by any soldier living, Wellington included, have-
- 375
 ing been commissioned at 13, fought against the Dutch in
South Africa and Surinam, pursued brigands in Trinidad
served throughout the Peninsular War (in which he received
various wounds and a knighthood), commanded a British
expedition to China, stormed Canton, forced the surrender
of Nanking, and beaten the Mahrattas in India. At the time
of the Sutlej crisis he was 66 years old, but sprightly in body
and spirit, handsome, erect, with long receding white hair
and fine moustaches and side-whiskers. The best-known
portrait shows him in his famous white "fighting coat",
pointing with an outstretched arm: it is said to illustrate one
of the many critical moments in his career when, at Sobraon,
he shouted: "What? Withdraw? Indeed I will not! Tell Sir
Robert Dick to move on, in the name of God!" (See R. S.
Rait, Life and Campaigns of Hugh, 1st Viscount Gough
(1903); Byron Farwell, Eminent Victorian Soldiers (1985)
and other works cited in these Notes.)
Sir Robert ("Fighting Bob") Sale was another highly
combative general, celebrated for leading from the front, and
once, when his men were mutinous, inviting them to shoot
him. He fought in Burma, and in the Afghan War, where he
was second-in-command of the army, and earned distinction
as the defender of Jallalabad. (See also Note 9.) [p. 28]
8. War with the Gurkhas in 1815 brought the British to Simla,
and the first European house was built there in the 1820s by
one Captain Kennedy, the local superintendent, whose
hospitality may have laid the foundations of its popularity as
a resort. Emily Eden was the sister of Lord Auckland, Governor-General
1835-41.
(See the excellently-illustrated
Simla: a British Hill Station, by Pat Ban- and Ray Desmond
(1978).) [p. 28]
9. Adapting Raleigh's famous judgment on Henry VIII, one
may say that "if all the patterns and pictures of the rumsahibs of British India were lost to the world, they might be
painted to the life from Lady Sale". Born Florentia Wyncb,
she was 21 when she married the dashing young Captain
Robert Sale, by whom she had twelve children, one o1
whom, as Mrs Alexandrina Sturt, shared with her mother
the horrors of the march from Kabul. Lady Sale was then 54.
but although she was twice wounded and had her clothing
shot through by jezzail bullets, she worked tirelessly for ("e
sick and wounded, and for the women and children who
took part in that fearful journey over the snowbound Afghan
passes. Throughout the march, and during the months which
she suffered in Afghan captivity, she kept the diary which is
the classic account of the Kabul retreat in which all but a
handful died out of 14,000. It is one of the great military
journals, and a remarkable personal memoir of an indomitable
woman, who recorded battle, massacre, earthquake,
hardship, escape, and everyday detail with a sharp and often
caustic eye. Her reaction, when soldiers were reluctant to
take up their muskets to form an advance guard was: "You
had better give me one, and I will lead the party." Other
typical observations are: "I had, fortunately, only one ball in my arm," and the brisk entry for July 24, when she was a
prisoner: "At two p.m. Mrs Sturt presented me with a
grand-daughter - another female captive." During the
march her son-in-law. Captain Sturt, had died beside her in
the snow. Her heroism on the march was rewarded by an
annual pension of 500 from Queen Victoria, and when she
died, in her sixty-sixth year, her tombstone was given the
appropriate inscription: "Under this stone reposes all that
could die of Lady Sale". ;*
Flashman writes of her with considerable affection; no
doubt her forthright and unconventional style appealed to
him. Her habit of putting a foot on the table to ease her gout
(not rheumatism) is also recorded by one of Simla's medical officers. Henry Oldfield. (See her Journal of the Disasters in
Afghanistan (1843), ed. Patrick Macrory (1969); Ban- and
Desmond; DNB.) [p. 29]
. Eugene Sue's The Wandering Jew was published in 1845,
and may conceivably have been available in Simla that
September, but Flashman's memory has probably confused
it with the author's equally popular Mysteries of Paris which
appeared in 1842-3. Dumas's The Three Musketeers was first
published in 1844; Flashman may well have borrowed it from
one of the French officers who rescued him from Madagascar
in June, 1845. [p. 30]
George Broadfoot, a large, red-haired, heavily-bespectacled
and pugnacious Orcadian, was one of the early paladins of
the North-west Frontier. He had distinguished himself in the
Afghan War as a ferocious fighter, engineer, and military
organiser, and it was in large part due to him that Jallalabad
was successfully defended after the disastrous Kabul retreat.
& 377 He was awarded a C.B. and a special mention in despatches
and went on to serve in Burma before being appointed
North-west Agent in 1845. He and Flashman served together
on the Kabul road, and Broadfoot's brother William had
been killed in the residency siege of November, 1841, in
: which Flashman took a reluctant part. The reference to i Broadfoot's "Scotch burr" is interesting, since although he
was born in Kirkwall he had lived in London and India from
the age of ten.
Captain (later Sir) Henry Havelock, known to Flashman as
"the Gravedigger", no doubt because of his grim
appearance and religious zeal, was to become famous in the
Indian Mutiny, where he relieved and was besieged in Lucknow.
Flashman knew him there, and also during the
Afghan campaign.
The "cabbage-eating nobleman" with the lisp was certainly Prince Waldemar of Prussia, who visited Simla in 1845 and
subsequently accompanied the British army in the field. He
travelled under the name of Count Ravensburg, but his hosts
seem to have addressed him by his real title, [p. 32]
12. The rate of pay for an East India Company sepoy at this time
was 7 rupees a month. The Khalsa was paying 14, and 45
rupees for cavalrymen, [p. 33]
13. Sind, the territory lying between the Punjab and the sea, was
annexed in 1843 by Lord Ellenborough, Sir Henry
Hardinge's predecessor as Governor-General; this gave
Britain control of the Indus, and an important buffer against
possible Moslem invasion from the north-west (see map). It
was a cynical piece of work, in which Ellenborough goaded
the Sind Amirs by forcing an unacceptable treaty on them;
when this provoked an attack by the Baluchi warriors, Sir
Charles Napier promptly conquered the country, winning
the battles of Miani and Hyderabad. Public reaction to the
annexation was reflected by the House of Commons, which
postponed for a year the normal vote of thanks to the successful
general, and by Punch, which gleefully accepted a
contribution from a Miss Catherine Winkworth, aged 1''
suggesting that Napier's despatch to Ellenborough inns1 have read: "Peccavi", "I have Scinde", (sinned)." (S6 under Foreign Affairs, Punch, May 18, 1844.) The annexation
did not pass unnoticed in Lahore, and no doubt con_
vinced many Sikhs that it would be their turn next. [pyl
, Young as he was, Flashman should have known that
Afghanistan was not an exception, and that political officers,
who were usually Army, normally fought along with the rest.
It is true that no post in battle was more dangerous than
general's aide, and he may well have been right to assume
that it would be especially perilous when the general was
HughjGough.
Alexander Bumes had been Flashman's political chief at
Kabul, where Sir William McNaghten was head of the Political
Mission; he saw both of them murdered by the Afghans.
(See Flashman.) [p. 38]
The details which Flashman gives of the Soochet legacy case
are substantially correct. Raja Soochet had sent his fortune,
amounting to 14 lakhs of rupees (about 140,000), to
Ferozepore shortly before his death in March 1844; it was
buried there in three huge copper vessels and dug up by
Captain Saunders Abbott. Dispute as to the ownership then
arose, with the Lahore durbar claiming its return, and the
British government holding that it was the property of
Soochet's heirs. (See Broadfoot, pp. 229-32, 329.) [p. 46)
, The famous Shalamar or Shalimar gardens and pleasure
grounds were laid out in the seventeenth century by Shah Jehan, creator of the Taj Mahal. Originally there were seven gardens, representing the seven divisions of Paradise, but
now only three remain, covering about 80 acres. The Labor Shalamar is not to be confused with the gardens of the sanu?
name in Kashmir, [p. 57)
When Flashman talks of the Khalsa he means simply the Punjabi army, but the term has much deeper significance.
The Sikhs ("disciples") founded by Nanak in the fifteenth century as a peaceful religious sect, were transformed two
hundred years later by their tenth and last Guru, Gobind Singh, into a military power to resist Muslim persecution.
Gobind founded the Khalsa, the Pure, a baptised brotherhood
which has been likened to the Templars and thrf Praetorian Guard, and rapidly became the leading order of
Sikhism and the embodiment of Sikh nationhood. Amon^g Gobind's institutions were the abolition of caste, the adoption
of the surnames Singh and Kaur (lion and lioness), anal Ae famous five it's (bangle, shorts, comb, dagger, and uncut
hair). It was a fighting order, soon numbering 80,000, and
under Runjeet Singh it reached the height of its power.
r ifC"5 379 '--
Contact with the British seems to have inspired him to build
an army on European lines, with the assistance of French
Italian, British, American, German, and Russian instructors.
The result was a superb force, quite as disciplined and
formidable as Rashman describes it, well trained and equipped,
and (a point not to be overlooked in examining the
origins of the Sikh War) bent on conquest. Once Runjeet's
iron hand was gone, the Khalsa was the real power in the
Punjab, whose rulers could only hope to conciliate it. The punches which controlled it were elected by the men in
accordance with village tradition.
At Runjeet's death, the numerical strength of the Khalsa
was estimated at 29,000, with 192 guns. By 1845 this had
risen to 45,000 regular infantry, 4000 regular cavalry, and
22,000 irregular horse (gorracharra), with 276 guns. That
this figure rose further during the year seems certain; Flashman
and his contemporaries mention both 80,000 and ..^,; 100,000, but how many of these would be effectives it is sw, impossible to say. He also uses the terms Khalsa, Sikhs, and
Punjabis loosely when referring to the Punjab army; it
should be remarked that the Khalsa as he knew it was not
composed exclusively of Sikhs. (For a breakdown of the
Khalsa's strength in 1845, see Carmichael Smyth, Reigning s Family, appendix; for notes on the foreign mercenaries
;! employed by Runjeet Singh, see Gardner's Memoirs. Also
works already cited in Note 6.) [p. 58]
18. The Akalis were the commandos of the Khalsa, a strict sect
known variously as the Timeless Ones, the Children of God
the Immortal, and the Crocodiles; a footnote to George
Broadfoot's biography typically describes them as "devoted
to misrule and plunder", [p. 60)
19. Since Flashman refers later in the manuscript to a Cooper
pepperbox, it is probable that the pistol he drew on Dalip
Singh was a Cooper also. They were manufactured from about 1840 by J. R. Cooper, a British gunsmith, and fired six
rounds. (See The Revolver, 1818-65, by A. W. F. Taylerson, R. A. N. Andrews, and J. Frith (1968).) [p- 67!
20. There is a mystery here: the "tough, shrewd-looking
heavyweight" who called on Flashman with Bhai Ram Sing" hardly sounds like the "good, kind, and polite old Fakf Azizudeen" who had been Runjeet Singh's foreign nuni^61. and was still to the fore at this time, although he died oi
natural causes a few weeks later. Both the physical description
and the style are inconsistent; indeed, the only way in
which Bhai Ram's companion resembles Azizudeen is in his
uncompromising honesty. Either Flashman's visitor was
another courtier altogether, and he has simply got the name
wrong, or his descriptive memory is playing him false for
once. [p. 74]
21. Flashman has caught the spirit but slightly misquoted the ^letter of Robert Herrick's "Upon Julia's Clothes":
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free;
0 how that glittering taketh me!
He quotes Herrick again (p. 277), but it is doubtful if he had
any special affection for the poet, or would even have
recognised his name. The Flashman Papers abound in erratic
literary allusions - the present volume contains echoes of
Donne, Shakespeare, Macaulay, Coleridge, Voltaire, Dickens,
Scott, Congreve, Byron, Pope, Lewis Carroll, Norse
mythology, and obscure corners of the Old Testament - but it
would be rash to conclude that Flashman had any close
acquaintance with the authors; more probably the allusions
were picked up second hand from conversations and casual
reading, with two exceptions. He knew Macaulay personally,
and had certainly read his Lays, and he seems to have had a
genuine liking for Thomas Love Peacock, whose caustic
humour and strictures on Whiggery, political economy, and
academics probably appealed to him. For the rest, we may
judge that Flashman's frequent references to Punch, Pierce
Egan's Tom and Jerry, and sensational fiction like Vamey the
Vampire, more fairly reflect his literary taste; we know from
an earlier volume that the word Trollope meant only one
thing to him, and it was not the author, [p. 94]
22. Alexander Haughton Campbell Gardner, "Gurdana Khan"
' (1785-1877), is an extraordinary figure even for an age and
region which saw such adventurers as "Sekundar" Bumes,
Count Ignatieff, Yakub Beg, Pottinger, Connolly, Avitabile,
and John Nicholson. He. was born on the shore of Lake
Superior, in what is now Wisconsin, the son of a Scottish
surgeon and his Anglo-Spanish wife; Dr Gardner had served
n the American side in the War of Independence, and knew
both Washington and Lafayette. Young Alexander spent
some years in Ireland, where he seems to have learned mili"tary
gunnery, possibly in the British Army, went to Egypt,
' and travelled by caravan from Jericho to Russia, where his
brother was a government engineer. Thence he went to
Central Asia, where for several years his life was one of
continual warfare, raid, ambush, escape and exploration
among the wild tribes; he fought as a mercenary, and for a
time appears to have been little more than a wandering
bandit - "Food we obtained by levying contributions from
everyone we could master," he writes in his Memoirs, "but
we did not slaughter except in self-defence." He seems to
;-.have had to defend himself with fatal frequency, both as -soldier and freebooter, as well as escaping from slavetraders,
being attacked by a wolf-pack, leading an expedition
against Peshawar under the sacred banner of the Khalifa
("all burning with religious zeal and the desire to work their
will in the rich city") and spending nine months in an underground
dungeon. He rose to command a hill region with his
own private fort under the rebel Habibullah Khan, who was
opposing the Afghan monarch. Dost Mohammed, and it was
, on a foray to kidnap a princess from Dost Mohammed's
harem (with her treasure) that he met his first wife -jn
incident described in his best laconic style: ;|j
In the course of the running fight to our stronghold I
was enabled to see the beautiful face of a young girl
who accompanied the princess. I rode for a considerable
time beside her, pretending that my respect for the
elder lady made me choose that side of her camel..
On the following morning Habibulla Khan richly rewarded
his followers, but I refused my share of the
gold and begged for this girl to be given to me in marriage
... H
She was, and for two years they lived happily, until Gardner
returned from an action in which he had lost 51 men out
of 90, to find that his fort had been attacked, and his wife had stabbed herself rather than be taken prisoner; their baby
son had also been murdered. Although he continued in
Afghanistan for some years, and was reconciled with 13^ Mohammed, he eventually took service in the Punjab with
Runjeet Singh, training the Khalsa in gunnery, fought 1" various actions, and was in Lahore in the six years of bloodshed and intrigue following Runjeet's death. He was guard
commander to the infant Dalip Singh and Rani Jeendan at
the time of his meeting with Flashman, but he was strongly
pro-British (his friends included Henry Lawrence) and
believed that India's future would be best served by ever
closer communion with the United Kingdom. In his letter
"from John Bull of India to John Bull of England", he
envisaged the development of India as a great industrial
nation, with Indians playing their part in the highest posts in
civil and military life, and being represented in both Houses
at Westminster. Physically, Gardner was as Flashman describes
him - six feet tall, fierce, lean, and of iron constitution.
As a result of one of his numerous wounds he was
unable to swallow solid food, and could drink only with the
help of an iron collar, but even in his eightieth year he was
said to be as active as a man of fifty, lively and humorous,
and speaking an English which was "quaint, graphic, and
wonderfully good considering his fifty years among
Asiatics". The photograph in his Memoirs shows a splendid
old war-horse, beak-nosed and with bristling whiskers,
seated sword in hand and clad in a full suit of tartan, even to
his plumed turban. He bought the cloth from a Highland
regiment in India, but which tartan it is cannot be told from
the monochrome picture, and thereby hangs a small
mystery.
Flashman says it was the tartan of the 79th (Cameron)
Highlanders, and describes it as red or crimson - which is
slightly puzzling, since the 79th's kilt is largely dark blue,
being a hybrid of the MacDonald and a crimson element
from the Lochiel Cameron. It may be that Flashman, who
knew his military tartans, regarded it as "red" only by contrast
with those of the four other Highland regiments, which
are predominantly dark blue-green. The only other explanation
is that he was entirely mistaken, and Gardner was wearing
not the 79th tartan but the red and resplendent Lochiel
Cameron - in which case the Colonel must have been a sight
to behold.
(See Memoirs of Alexander Gardner, ed. Hugh W. Pearse
(1890).) [p. 105]
It is quite possible that Kipling based Daniel Dravot, the
hero of The Man Who Would Be King, on Dr Harlan. He
would surely have heard of the American, and there is a
383
strong echo, in Dravot's fictional Kafiristan adventure
(published in 1895), of Harian's aspirations first to the H
throne of Afghanistan, and later successfully to the kingship
of Ghor, as described in Gardner's Memoirs (published in
1890); whether Harian's story was true is beside the point.
Like many passages in his astonishing career, it lacks corroboration;
on the other hand it was accepted, along with
the rest, by such authorities as Major Pearse, who was Gardner's
editor, and the celebrated Dr Wolff.
Josiah Harian (1799-1871) was born in Newlin Township,
Pennsylvania, the son of a merchant whose family came
from County Durham. He studied medicine, sailed as a
supercargo to China, and after being jilted by his American
fiancee, returned to the East, serving as surgeon with the
British Army in Burma. He then wandered to Afghanistan,
where he embarked on that career as diplomat, spy, mercenary
soldier, and double (sometimes treble) agent which so
enraged Colonel Gardner. The details are confused, but it
seems that Harian, after trying to take Dost Mohammed's
throne, and capturing a fortress, fell into the hands of . ;
Runjeet Singh. The Sikh maharaja, recognising a rascal of 1
genius when he saw one, sent him as envoy to Dost Mohammed;
Harian, travelling disguised as a dervish, was also
working to subvert Dost's throne on behalf of Shah Sujah,
the exiled Afghan king; not content with this, he ingratiated
himself with Dost and became his agent in the Punjab - in
effect, serving three masters against each other. Although,
as one contemporary remarks with masterly understatement,
Harian's life was now somewhat complicated, he
satisfied at least two of his employers: Shah Sujah made him
a Companion of the Imperial Stirrup, and Runjeet gave him
the government of three provinces which he administered
until, it is said, the maharaja discovered that he was running
a coining plant on the pretence of studying chemistry. Even
then, Runjeet continued to use him as an agent, and it was
Harian who successfully suborned the Governor of
Peshawar to betray the province to the Sikhs. He then took
service with Dost Mohammed (whom he had just betrayed),
and was sent with an expedition against the Prince of
Kunduz; it was in this campaign that the patriotic doctor
"surmounted the Indian Caucasus, and unfurled my
country's banner to the breeze under a salute of 26 guns .
the star-spangled banner waved gracefully among the icy
peaks." What this accomplished is unclear, but soon afterwards
Harian managed to obtain the throne of Ghor from its
hereditary prince. This was in 1838; a year later he was
acting as Dost's negotiator with the British invaders at
Kabul; Dost subsequently fled, and Harian was last seen
having breakfast with "Sekundar" Burnes, the British
political agent.
Thus far Harian's story rests largely on a biographical
sketch by the missionary, Dr Joseph Wolff; they met briefly
during Harian's governorship of Gujerat, but Wolff (who of
course never had the advantage of reading the present
packet of the Flashman Papers) confesses that he knows
nothing of the American after 1839. In fact, Harian returned
to the U.S. in 1841, married in 1849, raised Harian's Light
Horse for the Union in the Civil War, was invalided out, and
ended his days practising medicine in San Francisco;
obviously he must have revisited the Punjab in the 1840s,
when Flashman knew him. Of his appearance and character
other contemporaries tell us little; Dr Wolff describes "a
fine tall gentleman" given to whistling "Yankee Doodle",
and found him affable and engaging. Gardner mentions
meeting him at Gujerat in the 1830s, but speaks no ill of him
at that time.
His biographer, Dr Joseph Wolff, D.D., LL.D (17951862),
was a scholar, traveller, and linguist whose adventures
were even more eccentric than Harian's. Known as
"the Christian Dervish", and "the Protestant Xavier", he
was born in Germany, the son of a Jewish rabbi, and during
his "extraordinary nomadic career" converted to
Christianity, was expelled from Rome for questioning Papal
infallibility, scoured the Middle and Far East in search of the
Lost Tribes of Israel, preached Christianity in Jerusalem,
was shipwrecked in Cephalonia, captured by Central Asian
slave-traders (who priced him at only 2.50, much to his
annoyance), and walked 600 miles through Afghanistan "in
a state of nudity", according to the Dictionary of National
Biography. He made a daring return to Afghanistan in
search of the missing British agents, Stoddart and Connolly,
and narrowly escaped death at the hands of their executioner.
At other times Dr Wolff preached to the U.S. Congress,
was a deacon in New Jersey, an Anglican priest in
385
Ireland, and finally became vicar of a parish in Somerset. As
Flashman has remarked, there were some odd fellows about
A' in the eariies, (See Gardner; The Travels and Adventures of
Dr Wolff (1860); Dictionary of American Biography;
D.N.B.) [p. 110]
24. Rashman's is by far the fullest of the many descriptions of
the murder of Jawaheer Singh on the 6th of Assin (September
21), 1845. He differs from other versions only in minor
details: obviously he was unaware that two of the Wazir's
attendants were also killed, and that for a time Dalip Singh
was a prisoner of the troops. But his description of the
 Rani's reaction, while more graphic in detail, is borne out by
other writers, who testify to her hysteria and threats of
vengeance. (It has been suggested that she was a party to her
brother's death, but this seems most improbable, although
on one occasion she had contemplated his arrest.) That
Jawaheer knew of his peril is certain; he had, as Rashman
says, attempted to buy his security on the previous evening,
but on the fatal day he seems to have believed that he would
escape with his life. In fact, he was foredoomed, not only
because of Peshora Singh's death, but (according to Cunningham)
because the Khalsa believed he would "bring in
the British". (See Cunningham, Carmichael Smyth, Khushwant
Singh, Gardner, and others.)
At first glance, Rashman's comparison of Jeendan to
Clytemnestra would seem to refer to the Hon. J. Collier's
celebrated painting of Agamemnon's queen, but this cannot
be the case. Rashman wrote the present memoir before 1902
- so much is clear from his noting on p. 20 that it was written before his Borneo adventure, which he set down in or soon
after that year. Since Collier's painting was not exhibited
until the Royal Academy of 1914, Rashman must be referring
to some earlier, as yet unidentified, painting of
-' Clytemnestra. (p. 129]
25. Confirmation of the details of this deplorable episode is to be found in Carmichael Smyth. [p. 132]
26. Rashman's detailed eye-witness account of this durbar cannot
be confirmed in all its particulars, but its substance is to
be found in other authorities, including such contemporaries
as Broadfoot and Carmichael Smyth. Jeendan plainly kn^ how to manage her troops, whether by overawing them with
royal dignity, or captivating them by appearing unveiled and
386 . .
dressed as a dancing-girl. Carmichael Smyth describes her
initial refusal to listen to their entreaties after Jawaheer's
death, her dictation of terms at the Summum Boorj, her
insistence on Lal Singh as Wazir rather than Goolab, and her
dispersal of the Khalsa on the understanding that she would
soon launch it across the Sutlej. Broadfoot's account, quoting
Nicolson, speaks for itself:
Court's brigade was in favour of making Raja Gulab
Singh minister; the other brigades seemed disposed to
support the Rani, who behaved at this crisis with great
courage. Sometimes as many as two thousand of these
reckless and insubordinate soldiers would attend the
Darbar at one time. "The Ranee, against the
remonstrances of the chiefs, receives them unveiled,
with which they are so charmed that even Court's brigade
agreed to confirm her in the government if she
would move to their camp and let them see her
unveiled whenever they thought proper.' These strange
disorderly ruffians, even when under the direct
influence of her great beauty and personal attractions ,^j reproved her for her unconcealed misconduct with
Raja Lal Singh, and recommended her, as she seemed
to dislike solitude, to marry; they told her she might
select whom she pleased out of three classes, namely,
chiefs, akalis, or wise men. She adopted a bold tone
with the troops, and not only reproached them, but
abused them in the grossest language, whilst they
listened with pretended humility, [p. 147]
27. Flashman is consistently vague about dates, and does- nothing to clear up the longstanding mystery of when exactly
1. the Sikhs invaded across the Sutlej. December 11 is the --B favourite date, but estimates by both British and Indian
historians vary from the 8th to the 15th. Sir Henry Hardinge
formally declared war on the 13th, and as Khushwant
Singh points out, this almost certainly followed the crossing
of the first Sikh units; the whole operation must have taken
some days. Nicolson, at Ferozepore, says the invasion began
on the llth; Abbott, however, is definite that Broadfoot
received word of it on the morning of the 10th. [p. 186]
?8. If Flashman were not so positive, one might be tempted to
regard this reference to "Drink, puppy, drink" as another
387
misplaced musical memory; elsewhere in the Papers he
occasionally errs in "remembering" tunes (e.g. "The Galloping
Major", "Old Folks at Home") before they have
been written. At first sight, "Drink, puppy, drink" and
"The Tarpaulin Jacket", which he quotes on p. 233, look
like similar cases of faulty recollection; both were written by
Flashman's fellow-officer, George Whyte-Melville (182178),
none of whose writings appear to have been published
before his first retirement from the Army in 1849. So how
can Flashman have known them in 1845, and be so sure of
"Drink, puppy, drink" that he refers to it no fewer than
three times in his memoirs of that year?
There is a plausible explanation. Although no reference to
Whyte-Melville has yet appeared in The Flashman Papers, it
is quite possible that they met as early as their first year in
the Army, when Flashman was stationed at Glasgow and
Whyte-Melville was a subaltern in the 93rd (later Argyll and
Sutherland) Highlanders. In such a small society it would be
strange if two young men with so much in common did not
come together: they were the sons of landed gentlemen who
had married into the aristocracy, were both outstanding horsemen,
keen sportsmen, and popular convivialists, and may
even have discovered a bond of suffering from their
schooldays (Rashman at Arnold's Rugby, Whyte-Melville at
Eton under the notorious Keate). And when it is remembered
that Whyte-Melville's considerable literary talent was
of that precocious, carefree kind which may be called
amateur in the true sense (in later life he gave all his
royalties to establishing reading-rooms for stable boys, and
similar charities), it seems quite probable that such songs as
"Drink, puppy, drink" were being sung in messes and clubs
long before their genial author had even thought of looking
'for a publisher.
An interesting discovery, from Flashman's dungeon
ordeal, is that in roasting Tom Brown so memorably before
the schoolroom fire at Rugby (see Tom Browns
Schooldays), he was simply passing on a lesson learned from the deplorable Dawson, to whom he also refers in FlashnUffl in the Great Game. [p- 193J , How many Sikhs crossed the Sutlej it is impossible to say, ^ar less how many were in the field on both sides of the nver^ Flashman's.eventual figure of 50,000 may not be far out, but
it can be regarded as a maximum; Cunningham's estimate is
35,000-40,000, pWs another force of unspecified size advancI
ing on Ludhiana. Against this Gough had about 30,000 at
I most, but only 22.^000 of these were on or near the frontier,
and they were wj'iely dispersed. The Khalsa, according to
ECunningham, ha^ a superiority of almost two to one in
artillery. [P- 216]
30. Lal Singh did sefd this note to Peter Nicolson, word for
Eword except that ^here Flashman gives "Khalsa" Lal wrote
"Sikh army". H'f also informed Nicolson of Jeendan's
friendship, with t^e hope that the British would "cut up"
the invaders. Nio^lson's reply was that Lal should not attack
--, Ferozepore, but dflfelay and march to meet the British - thus
d confirming 'what Flashman had already told the Wazir.
These proofs of tr-'tachery by the Khalsa's own leaders were
k not published imn^ediately, as a result of Nicolson's death,
I; but Dr M'Grego^r, writing within a year of the event,
S| obviously knew tb-(is truth: having pointed out that a leader
like Runjeet Singa?1 would have caused as much havoc as
possible by burning and sacking on a wide front, he adds:
"We are almost tempted to believe that the Sikh leaders
Kg,, wished to keep ti^eir troops together, in order that the K- British might hav^ a full and fair opportunity of destroying
them!" In 1849 Q^unningham was stating bluntly that the
object of the Sik^jt leaders was "to get their own troops
dispersed by the^ [British]". He knew of Lal's correspondence
with Nicolson, but not the details. In the light
of what these two respected historians wrote at the time, it is
remarkable to findjIWilliam Broadfoot, forty years later, disputing
the charge o<i treachery against Lal and Tej. Nor was
R- he alone; at least > ne other British historian discounted it.
'If, in the light f the evidence available, any doubt
remained, Rashn^an has surely dispelled it. (See Cunningham,
Khustr^ant Singh, M'Gregor, Broadfoot, and
Herbert Compton, /'Mudki and Firozshah", in Battles of the
Nineteenth Century^ (1896).) [p. 226]
31. Flashman's memoiiCy is almost certainly at fault. Lieut.-Col.
Huthwaite may we^U have been able to tell which guns were
being used, but the^ British howitzers did not arrive at Mudki
until the following toy. (See Fortescue.) [p. 235]
"/. A fair judgment, aitl^d Flashman had cause to be pleased with
his strategy, for alt)(hough the British force was only slightly
389
larger than the Sikh, it had an advantage of four or five to
one in infantry, which was decisive. "Unsatisfactory and
unduly costly" is Fortescue's verdict, and he is rightly critical
of Gough for attacking head-on an enemy stationed in
jungle. But considering that the British force had covered
sixty miles in two days before going into action, it could have
been worse, [p. 237]
33. This remarkable observation, so characteristic of Broadfoot,
was originally made by him after a skirmish in Afghanistan
from which he emerged perspiring heavily and with a bloodstained
sabre, having killed three men and been wounded
himself. (See Broadfoot.) [p. 242]
34. This is the only existing account of the extraordinary
exchange between Hardinge and Gough before Ferozeshah,
although the gist of their conversation was communicated to
intimates soon afterwards. Charles Hardinge, in his father's
biography, was an eye-witness from a distance, but
apparently out of earshot. Unique or not, the dispute arose
from Hardinge's decision to place himself under the military command of Gough, while retaining overall authority as
Governor-General. In theory it was a risky arrangement, but
understandable; it would have been foolish not to use
Hardinge's military experience. He had been twice wounded
in the Peninsular War, losing a hand, served as deputy
quartermaster-general of the Portuguese army, and been
attached to Prussian headquarters in the Waterloo
campaign, in which he was again badly wounded. He was
' active in politics, serving as Wellington's Secretary for War,
before being sent to India as Governor-General. (See
Hardinge, and Note 40.) [p. 249]
35. This military pleasantry was still going the rounds in the
Second World War. Only the 9th Foot (Royal Norfolk)
could take a lady into barracks, the "lady" being the figure
of Britannia on their cap badge, [p. 251]
36. Historians disagree about the behaviour of the Sikh cavalry.
One describes their advance as hesitant, Fortescue says they
were stationary, but an eye-witness called it "the most
splendid sight of the campaign, their horses caracoling and
bounding, and the bright sunlight flashed from steel armour
and spears ... they came on at a rapid pace to within four
hundred yards of the British line." Gough's biographer
hardly mentions it. Obviously it depends on the point of
view, but Flashman is probably right in thinking that White's
intervention was decisive, [p. 261]
37. This incident is true. Gough "with my gallant aide" (C. R.
Sackville West; he had obviously forgotten Flashman)
deliberately rode ahead to draw the Khalsa's fire, and succeeded.
He has been criticised for needlessly endangering
himself; on the other hand, it has been argued that the effect
on his troops' morale was considerable. Gough himself
; probably never gave a thought either to danger or morale;
he seems to have acted emotionally, on the spur of the
moment, [p. 264]
38. Flashman's account of the two days of Ferozeshah is so full
and accurate that little need be added to it. For both sides, it
was a battle of missed opportunities: the British should have
had it won on the first day, but they ran out of daylight
(thanks to Hardinge, according to Gough supporters) and in
the confusion of the night fighting they lost the advantage
they had gained. The Sikhs should have overwhelmed
Gough's force on the second afternoon, but Tej's treachery
robbed them of victory; a point Flashman does not mention
is that Tej seems to have waited until he was sure Lal Singh's
defending force had been thoroughly routed (some had
deserted in the night, including Lal himself, whose personal
headquarters had been attacked and looted by the furious
Akalis).
It. has been suggested that on the first night of the battle
the British commanders had decided to surrender: one Sikh
historian says it quite flatly, quoting the diary of Robert
Cust, a young political officer who was not even at
Ferozeshah. In fact, it is plain from the papers of both
Gough and Hardinge that surrender was never contemplated.
Hardinge says clearly that he was approached by
some officers "with timid counsels of retreat" which he
flatly rejected. Gough too was approached by officers
("some of rank and in important situations") who urged
retreat, two of them claiming that they spoke for Hardinge.
Gough did not believe them, stated his intention of fighting
on, and consulted Hardinge, who repudiated the officers'
statement, and agreed with Gough "that retreat was not to
be considered for a moment". Plainly there were some in
favour of retreat (apart from the unfortunate Lumley); just
as plainly, Gough and Hardinge gave them short shrift.
_. 391
Flashman has dealt fully with Tej Singh, subscribing to the ? general view that it was his treachery alone that turned the 1 tide. That Tej was a traitor seems obvious, but it is just
possible that the reasons he gave for not attacking Gough's
exhausted force had some justification; he probably did not
know, for example, that the British artillery was out of
ammunition, and hesitated to attack their fortified position.
It is also possible that some of his commanders agreed with
him, for what seemed to them sound military reasons. At
any rate, it is difficult to believe that the Sikh army were
turned back against the united will of their regimental commanders,
simply by Tej's word alone.
Napoleon's sword, which had been presented to Hardinge
by Wellington, was sent back from Ferozeshah, and Dr Hof:
fmeister, one of Prince Waldemar's suite, was killed on the ' first day. (See Rait, Hardinge, Fortescue, Compton, Autobiography
of Sir Harry Smith, ed. by G. C. Moore Smith, vol.
ii (1901); Cunningham, Broadfoot, M'Gregor, and History
of the Bengal European Regiment, by P. R. Innes (1885).)
[P. 269]
39. This was, in fact, the excuse given to Hardinge by Lumley
for appearing in informal dress. (See Hardinge.) [p. 270]
40. Flashman's attitudes to his military superiors vary from
affection (Colin Campbell, Gough, Scariett) to poisonous
hatred (Cardigan), with degrees of respect (Ulysses Grant,
:;'" Hugh Rose, Hope Grant), contempt (Raglan, Elphinstone),
'sf>) and amused anxiety (Ouster) in between, and most of them '"""' are understandable. Why he so disliked Hardinge is less
obvious, for the Governor-General seems to have been an
amiable man enough, and not unpopular; his portrait gives .
no hint of the pomposity and coldness that Flashman found
in him. It is quite likely that their instant mutual antipathy
was our hero's fault; enjoying the euphoria of having done
good service for once, he probably let his natural impudence
show, and was less inclined than usual to toady (as witness
his uncharacteristic outburst to Littler). The bouncy young
political no doubt brought out the worst in Hardinge, and
Flashman, a ready hater, has repaid with interest in a portrait which probably does the Governor-General Is^ than justice, especially where Gough is concerned. Hardings was surely sincere in writing to Peel that Gough was "not the
officer who ought to be entrusted with the conduct of the
' ':^.:.^, ^ 392 '
war", and can hardly be blamed for seeking the appointment
of a less mercurial C-in-C. Disaster had been avoided
by a miracle, and the Governor-General might well be
nervous of a general who was once heard to say, when his
guns ran out of ammunition, "Thank God, then I'll be at
them with the bayonet!" At the same time, Hardinge failed
to recognise that many of Gough's difficulties had been
created by Hardinge himself, and it may well be, as Gough's
biographer suggests, that the Governor-General had a
tendency "to attribute to himself all vigorous action" and to
take all credit for success. Whether he was right to override
Gough at Ferozeshah we cannot know; he may have averted
a catastrophe or prevented Gough winning a victory at less ,
cost in lives. It was a curious and difficult situation for both;:
men, and it says much for them that they remained on good
terms and co-operated efficiently throughout the campaign.
Gough never knew of the letter to Peel, and while Flashman
(smarting at the suggestion that politicals were of little use)
would emphatically disagree, this was probably tact on
Hardinge's part. (See Rait.) [p. 273]
Christmas trees were reintroduced into England by Prince
Albert after his marriage to Queen Victoria in 1840. [p. 274J Gough and Hardinge were repeating, at Sobraon, their
quarrel at Ferozeshah: Gough wanted to make a frontal
attack, but Hardinge insisted that he must wait for heavy
artillery from Umballa (Gough had, in fact, asked for these
guns weeks before, and been refused by Hardinge). The
Governor-General proposed that an attack be made by
crossing the river and falling on the Sikhs' reserve position,
but this was vetoed by Gough. [p. 276]
This scene is described in detail by Gardner. He gives the
strength of the Rani's guard as four battalions, [p. 295]
"The Rani used to wonder why a matrimonial alliance was
not... formed for her with some officer... who would then
manage State affairs with her. She used to send for portraits
of all the officers, and in one especially she took great interest,
and said that he must be a lord. This fortunate individual's
name has not transpired, and, much to the Maharani's
mortification, the affair went no further. She considered that
such a marriage would have secured the future of herself and
her son." (See Gardner, Memoirs, p. 298.) [p. 298]
Plans of the Khalsa fortifications certainly reached the
i y '
t" 393
British, but they apparently added little to their knowledge.
[p.311]
46. This certainly refers to the curious case of Captain Battreau
who, as a young private soldier in the French Army, carried
a Chassepot rifle, serial number 187017, in the FrancoGerman
War of 1870; in 1891, during a skirmish in the Dahomey
jungle, Battreau, now an officer in the Foreign Legion, disarmed
an enemy and discovered that the weapon he had
captured was the same Chassepot he had handed in at the
end of the 1870 campaign. The story was verified by P. C. Wren, himself an ex-Legionnaire, who included it in his
book. Flawed Blades (1932). Flashman died in 1915, and his
own Legion service preceded Battreau's by many years, so it
seems probable that he read the story in a French newspaper
in 1891. [p.318]
47. The private shelter which Tej Singh had built for himself at
Sobraon was as Flashman describes it. It was constructed
according to the specifications laid down by a Brahmin astrologer:
the inner circumference was thirteen and a half times
?T Tej's waist measurement, and the wall itself had a thickness
-. of 333 long grains of rice laid end to end. Tej spent more
time supervising its building than he did on his duties as
commander-in-chief, retiring within it frequently to pray.
Assistance in measurement was lent by a European engineer
(probably Hurbon) with a foot-rule. (See CarmichaelSmyth.)
[p. 334]
48. Colonel Hurbon, a Spaniard, was the only European officer
who served against the British in the Sikh war. He is said to
have designed the fortifications at Sobraon, which the
historian Cunningham, who was also an engineer, dismissed
as unscientific. Perhaps they were, since superior numbers
did not suffice to hold them. Gardner describes him simply
as "a fine soldier" and remarks on his bravery, [p. 335]
49. Almost certainly this was Sham Singh Attariwala, a veteran
of more than forty years' service, who led the Khalsa's last
stand at Sobraon. (See Khushwant Singh, M'Gregor.)
[p. 340]
50. Sobraon was the decisive battle of the Sikh War - perhaps
one of the decisive battles of history, for it secured Britain in
India for another century, with all that that implied for the
future of Asia. Gough described it as the Indian Waterloo
(an appellation which Flashman attaches to Ferozeshah) and
there are few controversies about it: for once, treachery
played little part in what was a straight contest between the
Khalsa and the Company. Luck was against the Sikhs insofar
' as the unusual rise of the Sutlej denied them any possibility 1 of retreat and fighting another day; hemmed in, they could
;. |; only fight it out, which they did with a discipline and courage
; ^: which excited unanimous admiration from their enemy,
' '' Gough in particular. "Policy precluded me publicly record;
'' ing my sentiments on the splendid gallantry... or the acts of
I. |! heroism displayed ... by the Sikh army," he wrote. "I
| s could have wept to have witnessed the fearful slaughter of so I i devoted a body of men." Thackwell, who led the British
1; cavalry, said simply: "They never ran." Hardinge wrote:
| v "Pew escaped; none, it may be said, surrendered." There is
I f a difference of opinion among historians on one point - the
I y collapse of the bridge of boats. Many believe that it was
( destroyed deliberately by Tej Singh, who fled during the
, * battle and supposedly had one of the middle barges
I; I removed; on the other hand Charles Hardinge actually saw it
I; collapse, and his account, like Flashman's, suggests that it k ^ was unbroken until the weight of the fugitives caused it to
| I" carry away: "I saw the bridge at that moment overcrowded
[ with guns, horses, and soldiers of all arms, swaying to and W fro, till at last with a crash it disappeared ... The river
if seemed alive with a struggling mass of men."
The Sikh losses were about 10,000, against 320 dead and
more than 2000 wounded on the British side, but it has to be
remembered that most of the Khalsa died in the river, and
for a time the battle had been on a knife-edge. After the
repulse of his first attack, Gough launched an assault on the
right and centre, and his recorded comment, as he watched
Gilbert's men storming the ramparts, was: "Good God,
they'll be annihilated!" (See Hardinge, Innes, Rait, Khushwant
Singh. and others.) [p. 344]
51. Later Field-Marshal Lord Napier of Magdala (181090),
famous for perhaps the most successful campaign in British
imperial history, the march on Magdala, Abyssinia (1868),
in which Flashman is believed to have taken part. Napier
II' was a brilliant soldier, organiser, and engineer, but his great
devotion was to art, and he was still taking lessons at the age
of 78. [P. 349]
52. Sir Henry Lawrence (1810-57) is best known for his defence
395
of Lucknow in the Indian Mutiny, in which he was killed, but
he previously had a distinguished career in the army and the
political service, serving in Burma and in the Afghan and
Sikh wars. Tall, gaunt, hot-tempered and impatient of contradiction,
he also had a romantic side, and was the author of
a love story, Adventurer in the Punjaub, which, according to
Dr M'Gregor, was also a mine of information about the
country and its politics. And he succeeded in seeing the
Maharani Jeendan in Lahore after the war, when Gardner
persuaded her to show her head and shoulders over a garden
wall, "to the gratification of the officers [Lawrence and
Robert Napier]". (See M'Gregor, Gardner, D.N.B.)
[p. 354]
53. As in previous volumes of the Papers, one is reminded of
how small was the group of officers who shaped the course of
empire in Africa and the Far East; the same names cross
Flashman's path again and again - Napier, Havelock,
Broadfoot, Lawrence; Herbert Edwardes, who was
Lawrence's assistant and won great fame in the Mutiny; wild
John Nicholson, who was literally worshipped as a divinity
by a frontier sect, the Nickleseynites; Hope Grant, the
monosyllabic, 'cello-playing Scot who led the march to Peking
and was rated by Flashman the most dangerous fighting
wy? man alive; "Rake" Hodson, the violent ruffian who commanded
the famous Guides and founded Hodson's Horse;
and others whom he knew elsewhere, but not in the Punjab -
Frederick ("Bobs") Roberts; Garnet Wolseley, the original
"model of a modem major-general"; "Chinese" Gordon of
Khartoum, and one-armed Sam Browne whose belt has
made him the most famous of them all. A distinguished
company who tended to go one of two ways: knighthood (or
peerage) and general rank, or a grave in the outposts.
[p. 358]
54. Dr W. L. M'Gregor, who served throughout the Sikh War,
is one of its major historians, and an enthusiast on military
medicine. Anyone wishing to study the war is recommended
to him, and to Captain J. D. Cunningham, who also served
in the campaign, and was in political intelligence. They do
not always agree with each other, but their knowledge of the
Punjab and its personalities makes them invaluable sources.
[p. 358]
55. The terms of the first Treaty of Lahore, March 9,1846, are
to be found in Cunningham, M'Gregor, and Hardinge. They
are as Goolab Singh predicted, with additional clauses giving
Britain passage for troops through the Punjab, a pledge not
to interfere in Punjabi internal affairs, and a prohibition on
the enlistment of European or American mercenaries in the
Punjab without British consent. Supplementary articles provided
for the stationing of a British force at Lahore for one
year - this was at the request of the Lahore durbar, who
rightly conceived themselves to be in need of protection.
[p. 360]
Goolab Singh, the "Golden Hen" and stormy petrel of
Kashmir, was every bit as deplorable, and quite as personally
engaging, as Rashman portrays him. He was born
about 1788, and to describe his career of intrigue, murder,
warfare, and knavery would take a long chapter; it suffices to
say that as a leading light of the Dogra Hindus who opposed
the Sikhs in the power struggle following Runjeet Singh's
death, he not only survived but ended with a kingdom of his
own, Kashmir. He did it by shameless duplicity, conspiring
with the British while pretending sympathy for the Punjab
cause, and no one was ever more expert at playing both ends
against the middle. His character was admirably summed up
by his friend and agent, Colonel Gardner, who described it
as repulsive, ambitious, avaricious, and capable of the most
inhuman systematic cruelty simply to invest his name with
terror; at the same time he was charming, genial, opiumaddicted,
given to telling long stories, and hail-fellow with
the poorest of his subjects. A fine soldier and sturdy fighter,
he was also a wise and careful ruler, and perhaps the most
revealing thing about him is that while Gardner published
his character study in Goolab's lifetime, they remained the
best of friends. (See Gardner, Carmichael Smyth, and
others.) (p. 361]
397
Babu	Clerk
Badmash	Ruffian
Bahadur	Champion
Bandobast	Business
Basha , Native house
Chabeli	Sweet-heart
Chaggle	Canvas water-bag
Charpoy	Indian bed
Chi-chi '	Half-caste
Chico	Child
Chota-wallah	Little fellow
Chowkidar	Constable
Chubbarao ^v; Shut up!
Cos ? One and a half miles
Daffadar	Cavalry commander of ten men
Dasahra	Sikh October festival -p^
Doab	Tract of land between rivers
Durbar	Audience with royalty, audience
"	chamber; also Punjab government
Feringhee	Foreigner
Ghat	River-landing ^
Gora sahib	Englishman
Gorracharra	Sikh irregular cavalry
Hakim	Chemist
Havildar	Sergeant
Husoor	Title of respect ^
Jampan	Kind of sedan chair
Jangi lat	Lord of war (here, British CinC)
Jawan	Native soldier
Jemadar
Jezzail
John Company
Khalsa
Kunwari
Maidan
Maiki lat
Mallwn
5 Munshi
h NC
Naik '
I Nautch
1 Paiki
Panch, Panchayat
, Parwana
I Pice
|'_ Poshteen :^ ^ ' ^
; Puggaree ;^
I Punkah
% Rissaldar-major
I Shabash /
^Shaveff:
V Sirdar :.
 5w*ar . ;
Sowar  '
Subedar
Tikhai "" ,
Tulwar
Vakil
Lieutenant
Afghan musket
Honourable East India Company
The Sikh army
Honorific title applied to Jeendan
(Kunwar=Son of Maharaja)
Plain
Lord of the land (GovernorGeneral)
Understand!
^s^"
Teacher ,-"/ 'iS^^
Native Cavalry -' lp
Corporal ^i?
Dancing-girl
Litter
Sikh soldiers' committee
Summons
Copper coins
Coat
Turban
Large fan
Cavalry sergeant-major
Bravo!
Rumour
Chief
Government (British)
Cavalry trooper
Senior subaltern
All right!
Sikh sword
Agent

399
D krysalis John Trenhaile 3.99
D princes of sandastre Antony Swithin 2.99
D night watch Alastair MacNeill 3.50
D the minotaur Stephen Coonts 4.50
D the queen's secret Jean Plaidy 3.99 gi
D the lemon tree Helen Forrester 3.99 ||-
D the thirteen-gun salute Patrick O'Brian 3.50 Sfe
D stone city Mitchell Smith 4.50
D only yesterday Syrell Leahy 2.99 ,%;?
D sharpe's waterloo Bernard Cornwell 3.50 "'"p
D blood brother Brian Morrison 3.50 K''
D the brow of the gallowgate Doris Davidson 3.50
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