Shadow of the Moon (28 page)

‘Hardly, sir,' said Colonel Abuthnot with a smile, ‘or I should not be taking my wife and daughters to Delhi.'

‘Indeed? That is most reassuring.' The ex-Member of Parliament appeared relieved. ‘I cannot suppose that you would contemplate putting your wife and daughters in any danger, and if the ladies can proceed in safety, there can be no cause for anxiety. I had intended to venture into Oudh, should time permit, in order that I might be able to gain first-hand information on this newest addition to our territorial possessions. I have been given a letter of introduction to a Mr Coverley Jackson—'

‘What is that about Coverley Jackson?' inquired a new voice, and the group turned as one to see their host advancing upon them. ‘Are you contemplating a visit to Lucknow, Mr Leger-Green?'

‘Only if time permits, your Excellency. I have an introduction to Mr Coverley Jackson from a mutual friend.'

‘Ah yes,' said Lord Canning. ‘Competent fellow Jackson - if only he were not so quarrelsome.'

‘You're looking fagged, Charles,' remarked Lord Carlyon. ‘India don't appear to agree with you. Too many social functions and too much heat.'

‘And too much work,' said the Governor-General with a smile. ‘You should try it, Arthur. It would at least have the charm of novelty.'

‘Now that is too bad of you, Charles,' protested his Lordship indolently. ‘I work like a demned nigger.'

‘You surprise me. At what, may I ask?'

‘Keeping boredom at bay. And here I am flogging round the globe in proof of it.'

‘Stay here awhile and try some real work instead,' advised Lord Canning. ‘We can use even someone as ornamentally useless as yourself.'

‘Then you must be devilish hard up for hands, Charles.'

‘We are; or we shall be if this Persian business blows up into anything. The annexation of Oudh has stretched our resources to the limit. But this is no time for such dull talk. You gentlemen are neglecting your duty; you should be dancing.'

‘We leave that to our juniors, your Excellency,' said Mr Halliwell. ‘Every lady is at least three-deep in would-be partners already, and such old fogeys as ourselves would receive short shrift from them.'

‘Speak for yourself, Halliwell,' said the Brigadier, straightening his befrogged tunic. ‘I intend to dance the lancers with my wife - if I can persuade her from the whist table.'

‘Bravo, General!' approved Lord Canning. ‘I trust that the rest of you
intend to follow such an intrepid lead. A word with you, Arthur—' The Governor-General took Lord Carlyon's arm and moved away in the direction of the ballroom.

‘What's on your Excellency's mind?' inquired Carlyon, his lazy-lidded eyes unexpectedly observant. ‘You were not by any chance serious just now?'

‘When I suggested that I could use your services? Certainly.'

‘My dear Charles! In what capacity? To dance with the ladies who attend your crushes? It is the most that I am capable of - and then only providing they are pretty. I cannot dance with a plain woman. I lose all sense of rhythm and am instantly abroad.'

‘You underrate yourself, Arthur. I know you to be a superlative horseman and a first-class shot.'

The younger man stopped suddenly and turned to regard his host narrowly. He said slowly: ‘What exactly do you mean by that? Do you too think as that Colonel in there - that there is going to be trouble?'

‘What Colonel? Was someone prophesying trouble?'

‘Fallon, I believe the name was. Elderly little man with a face the colour of a brick wall. Tell me, Charles, is it one of the rules of the Indian Army that a man must be at least a grandfather before he is considered fit for command? Damme if I've ever seen such a gaggle of grey-beards. Your colonels are all tottering on the brink of gout and the grave, while your generals would appear to have both feet already in it. And they told me that this was a young man's country!'

‘So it is - for those who make the most of their opportunities.'

‘Not if they stay in the Army, I collect! I am no military strategist, but isn't it time that the Company overhauled its policy of promoting by seniority? I gather that no one can become a senior officer in the Bengal Army until they are senile and consequently useless. No wonder some of the less moribund go around croaking of impending disaster.'

‘Was Fallon croaking of impending disaster?'

‘Like a raven,' said Carlyon lightly. ‘But he appeared to be in the minority. What are your own views? Do you too anticipate the deluge?'

‘No, of course not. Nothing wrong with the country. Some people enjoy croaking of doom. The effects of this prophecy, I suppose. It is quite astonishing how superstitious even the most level-headed can become.'

‘What prophecy?' inquired Carlyon, interested.

‘Oh, it's an old tale now. It cropped up after Plassey. The Company's Raj - rule - was to last for a hundred years after the battle that established it. And Plassey was fought in 1757.'

‘So the hundred years are up next year,' commented Carlyon. ‘Very interesting. But surely you cannot take this seriously?'

‘Naturally not. I wish you will not be ridiculous, Arthur.'

‘Then what is worrying you?'

‘Nothing. Nothing. It is just that … Well, I would like you to extend your visit if that is possible. Will you do that?'

‘Why?'

The Governor-General looked down upon the crowded ballroom and spoke in an undertone that was barely audible above the chatter of voices and the gay music of the fiddles: ‘It would be of use to me if you were to decide to go on an extended tour of this country - in an entirely private capacity, of course, as a casual sightseer only - and give me your impressions. I find that too many people tell the Governor-General only what they think will please the Governor-General. It is this question of Oudh. The ex-King and his swarm of hangers-on are here in Calcutta, and they deafen me with their complaints as to the behaviour of our people in Lucknow. I have sent the strongest representations to the Commissioner, Coverley Jackson, but his replies have been evasive.'

‘Sack him,' recommended Carlyon, bored.

‘I can hardly do so without hurting his feelings,' said Lord Canning unhappily. ‘The charges are quite possibly without foundation, and are certain, at worst, to be grossly exaggerated. But they are doing our reputation a great deal of harm and providing fuel for the malcontents. If only I could have effected the Commissioner's removal without the necessity of direct dismissal … I had hoped—'

He paused, frowning, and Carlyon threw him a glance of friendly contempt. He was aware of Canning's tendency to avoid harsh measures, and of the conscientiousness that would not allow him to give an arbitrary decision on any matter that he had not thoroughly and personally sifted to the bottom. Carlyon, less patient, had little sympathy with such an attitude, and no intention of prolonging his stay in the East. He intended to reach England by the New Year, and he would not have considered visiting India in the first place had it not been that his skill in managing his
amours
had temporarily deserted him, and a situation had arisen which had made it seem advisable to pay a protracted visit to foreign parts. An invitation from the Cannings to visit them in Calcutta had arrived at this opportune moment and been accepted. But he considered that he had been abroad for quite long enough, and the prospect of proceeding to Lucknow in order to test the accuracy of charges brought against the British administration of the newly acquired province by its deposed King, did not appeal to him. His languid gaze rested without interest on the dancers, and his attention wandered.

‘You could not of course proceed direct from here,' said Lord Canning, ‘but were you to go first to Delhi and return via Lucknow, it would give the appearance of a sightseeing tour, and—'

He became aware that Carlyon had ceased to lounge and was gripping the balustrade with both hands and watching someone in the ballroom below with every appearance of lively interest.

‘By Jove!' said Lord Carlyon under his breath, ‘it
is
the ugly duckling!'
He turned to his host with an unwonted gleam of animation in his bored eyes. ‘Forgive me, Charles. I see an acquaintance of mine below. Perhaps we may continue this conversation some other time.' He turned to descend the flower-decked staircase and was lost to view.

Lord Canning sighed a little tiredly. It was true that he wished for an accurate and unbiased report on the state of affairs in Lucknow, without the necessity of any official inquiry that might force him to remove the Commissioner from office. But quite apart from that he was conscious of a strong reluctance to see any able-bodied Englishman leave the country. He was not a particularly imaginative man and he had no patience with those who prated of disaster. But there were times when the enormous extent of this strange subcontinent that had passed into his charge oppressed him with the thought of its size and its dark, teeming millions. So vast - and held by so few …

He looked down upon the shifting colour of the ballroom with its glittering uniforms and swirling crinolines, and as he listened to the bright web of music and laughter that wove an almost tangible pattern above it, he caught sight of Carlyon's tall figure shouldering its way through the press of dowagers and spectators at the ballroom's edge, and saw him accost a slim, dark-haired girl in a white ball-dress who appeared to be surrounded by young officers.

The Governor-General turned and retreated to his study to wrestle with the contents of a dispatch box, leaving his wife to do the honours. He had emerged in the grey dawn, when the lamps and the candles were burning low and carriages drawing away laden with yawning men, sleepy dowagers and excited laughing girls, to find Carlyon escorting a stout matron in a crimson opera mantle across the hall and into a closed carriage. The lady's face was unfamiliar to him and she did not look to be at all in Carlyon's style - both her dress and her
coiffure
, even to the Governor-General's disinterested eye, being far from in the first rank of fashion.

Lord Carlyon, however, handed her into the carriage with a display of affability that was most unusual in him, bowed over her hand and expressed his intention of calling upon her at the earliest opportunity, and stood back to allow a tubby gentleman in the uniform of a Colonel of Native Infantry, presumably the lady's husband, to enter the carriage. There were half a dozen young officers grouped upon the steps, and they dispersed as the carriage drove off.

Lord Carlyon turned and made his way slowly back across the hall between the crowd of gorgeously uniformed servants and stopped at the unexpected sight of his host.

‘Ah, Charles - I imagined that you had very sensibly decided to retire to bed.'

‘Who was that?' inquired Canning without much curiosity.

‘No one of interest. A Mrs Abuthnot.' Lord Carlyon glanced down at the
wilting flower in his buttonhole, removed it and dropped it onto the polished marble floor. ‘By the way, Charles,' he said softly, ‘you will be interested to hear that I have decided to take your advice and extend my stay in India. I shall visit Delhi, and I may even return by way of Oudh.'

15

‘Can we take our own road from here?' asked Niaz
^*
Mohammed.

Alex turned away from the window of the sparsely furnished dâk-bungalow room and dropped the split-cane curtain back into place.

‘Is there need?'

‘Great need,' said Niaz, busy with the straps of a dusty valise. ‘It was not advisable to speak while there were many to overhear, but now—'

‘Here also there are ears,' said Alex with a jerk of his head towards the verandah outside, where the shadow of a loitering servant lay long upon the sun-warmed stone.

Alex and his orderly had left Calcutta by train. The new railway, one of Lord Dalhousie's most admired strides towards the Westernization of his Eastern Empire, now reached as far as Raniganj - a distance of over a hundred and forty miles north of Calcutta. But from this point the remainder of the journey must be accomplished by road, and Alex and Niaz had left the train, hot, dusty and coated with grit and cinders, and having slept the night at Raniganj in company with Colonel Moulson and a varied assortment of troops and travellers moving north, had proceeded for several days' journey towards Benares by dâk-
ghari
- four-wheeled, cab-like vehicles drawn by two horses.

The roads as a result of the monsoon were unspeakably bad, the half-starved ponies made poor time, and Alex's travelling companion, a morose Major on his way to rejoin his Regiment at Benares, did little or nothing towards improving the discomforts of the journey. The space between the seats had been boarded over and bedding spread on top so that the two men could lie down, and the Major spent the larger part of the day lying supine with his eyes closed, arousing himself only for the purpose of uttering some complaint. Niaz rode on the box with the driver, while the Major's servants followed in an
ekka
, a rickety-looking two-wheeled vehicle drawn by a single horse. The horses were changed at every stage, and in addition to frequent stops for repairs to bridles, harness or the
ghari
itself, the passengers had twice been forced to descend and help man-handle the vehicle back onto the road as a result of a wheel leaving the track.

On the fourth day the entire
ghari
overturned down the side of an embankment. Its passengers, including the driver, escaped unhurt, and owing to the fact that the shafts and traces had snapped as though they had been made of so much matchwood and string, the two starveling and evil-tempered horses had not only been unharmed but had bolted across the plain. The dâk-
ghari
itself presented a sorry appearance, and one look was sufficient to inform even the meanest intelligence that its long career had come to an inglorious close.

The driver had wasted an unconscionable time in rending his garments and calling down a variety of picturesque curses upon the heads of the absent horses, but eventually, urged forcibly by Niaz, started off in half-hearted pursuit. The Major had high-handedly commandeered the
ekka
, and leaving its lawful occupants to follow on foot, had ordered its driver to proceed to the nearest dâk-bungalow (happily only a matter of two miles ahead) with himself, his bearer and Alex on board. Niaz had elected to remain with the baggage and had arrived at the dâk-bungalow some two and a half hours later, having transferred himself and his master's luggage to a passing bullock cart.

There were several other dâk-
gharis
at the bungalow, where their passengers were partaking of such refreshment as the
khansamah
could provide, and the morose Major lost no time in arranging for one of them to take him up. Fresh horses were brought from the stables, the passengers embarked once more, and after a prolonged and invigorating struggle the reluctant steeds started off at a headlong gallop and the
gharis
disappeared in a cloud of dust. Alex and Niaz were alone in the dâk-bungalow and quiet descended upon the scene.

It would be some little time before a new conveyance could be procured, said Niaz, and since the sun was already low in the sky, they would have to spend the night there. He would prepare a room, and he suggested that it might be possible to procure riding horses locally for very little cost, so that they might dispense with the services of a dâk-
ghari
.

‘When there is work to do it is better to travel alone,' said Niaz, his dark face expressionless, ‘and I have a friend in the village. A man to whom I was able to do some small service. One does not know when a friend may be of use, so I remained at his house for a night on my way south. I think he will find horses for us.'

Alex nodded and turned to enter the room at the far end of the verandah in which his bedding and valise had been placed. He had had few opportunities for private conversation with Niaz since he had landed, for the hotel in Calcutta had been overcrowded and he had been compelled to share his bedroom with another officer.

Niaz was a Punjabi Mussulman whose home was north of Karnal. Born in the same year as Alex Randall, he came of a family of well-to-do landowners of some consequence whose daughters would seem to have married far from the family acres, since he appeared to possess blood relations in half the provinces of India. He had served in Alex's Regiment and fought at his side at Moodkee and later at Ferozeshah. Alex's horse had been hamstrung at Moodkee by a wounded Sikh in the charge that silenced the guns of the Khalsa, and Niaz had risen in his stirrups and by some miracle of horsemanship
had gripped Alex and dragged him clear as the horse fell. A moment later he had slipped to the ground and Alex was in his saddle with Niaz holding the stirrup-leather and fighting beside him in the swaying maddened mêlée, yelling joyfully as he had yelled in the charge: ‘
Shabash, baiyan! Dauro! Dauro!
' (Well done, brothers! Ride! Ride!)

Four days later, at Ferozeshah, Alex had repaid the debt when Niaz had fallen with a bullet through his chest, and Alex, his own horse killed, bestrode the wounded man and fought above him in the storming of the Sikh entrenchments. Since then Niaz had attached himself to Alex as orderly and body servant, and when Alex had been removed on special duty he had managed, through the judicious use of influence in the right quarters, to gain permission for Niaz to accompany him. Niaz had been granted extended leave during the past year, and Alex had left him certain specific and unofficial instructions that he had no doubt at all would have been carried out.

The shadow of the loitering servant that the evening sun had laid across the dusty verandah did not move, and Alex said reflectively: ‘Bring my gun. There will be quail and partridge in the open country beyond, and I am stiff from jolting in that dâk-
ghari
.'

Niaz grinned appreciatively and went out to inform the
khansamah
that the Sahib wished to shoot and would return for an evening meal which had better be of the first quality or he, Niaz, would have something to say on the subject.

Alex strolled down the shallow stone steps of the verandah and walked slowly away through a mango-tope that lay to the left of the bungalow. The low sun thrust shafts of dusty gold between the tree-trunks, and a troop of monkeys chattered and quarrelled among the thick leaves. Facing the bungalow, the jungle through which the road had run swept almost to the compound wall, but behind it and to the left lay comparatively open country; a few fields where crops of maize and sugar-cane had been planted, grazing grounds and a glimmer of water that indicated a distant jheel and the probable presence of waterfowl, and the level plains stretching away to the far horizon.

The ground in the mango-tope was hard and dry and splashed with the droppings of green pigeons, and a warm shaft of sunlight probing the shadows illuminated a slab of stone crudely carved with the lingam, the emblem of fertility, that stood propped against the bole of a tree. The thing was daubed with red paint and there were offerings heaped upon the ground before it. Humble offerings: a handful of parched grain, a bunch of marigold flowers, a string of red jungle beads and the remains of a chuppatti - the flat cake of unleavened bread that is the staple food of half India. Two small striped squirrels were tugging at the chuppatti, and a group of seven-sisters - those drab grey-brown birds who hop and twitter in small gangs like a covey of nervous spinsters - were disposing of the grain.

Alex paused and regarded the crude emblem with some interest. There was nothing at all unusual in the sight, for India is littered with such things. It was the offerings that surprised him. The flowers were unfaded, and the grain and the cake of unleavened bread must have been placed there comparatively recently, for the birds and the squirrels would make short work of them. Yet it was unusual for villagers to bring offerings to a shrine at such an hour - the work of a village restricting such attentions to the late evening or the early morning, when men going out or returning from tilling their fields or tending cattle might pass the spot and leave a small gift at the shrine.

There was a light step behind him and Alex turned to see Niaz who carried a shotgun and a bag of cartridges. Niaz glanced at the red-daubed emblem of Mahadeo and said cheerfully: ‘Misbegotten unbelievers!' He spat on the ground and jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bungalow: ‘The drivers of two of the dâk-
gharis
, and he who drove the
ekka
, brought the offerings. There was, I think, a message also, but it has gone. See, there in the dust—'

The hard dry ground of the mango-tope did not hold the print of footmarks well, but the day was windless, and dust, twigs and fallen leaves betrayed a well-worn track from the bungalow to the shrine, while beyond it the print of unshod feet showed where a single man had approached from the direction of the grazing grounds and the open plain, and returned again.

Niaz moved slowly out of the shadows of the tope, his eyes on the ground, and presently he said: ‘Here he turns aside and goes back to the village. It is an old trick to thrust a message into a chuppatti and bake it so that it is well hid. But the driver of that
ekka
was a Mussulman and no Hindu.'

Alex nodded without speaking and turned to look out across the plain, his eyes screwed up against the low sunlight. A black partridge was calling, and he held out his hand for the gun. He was an excellent shot, and Niaz was carrying half a dozen limp feathered forms by the time they reached the edge of the jheel - a shallow stretch of water fringed with straggling rushes, stray clumps of elephant grass and a few scanty palms that stood up against the bright evening sky like worn broomsticks.

Alex sat down on a tussock of dry grass with his back to the open water at the end of a narrow arm of stony ground that reached out into the jheel, and pulling a packet of paper and pouch of tobacco out of his pocket, rolled two cigarettes - a habit he had acquired in the Crimea - and tossed one over to Niaz who squatted beside him.

Niaz struck a sulphur match on the sole of his shoe, and having lit the cigarettes, blew the flame out carefully and flicked the spent match into the placid water. ‘There are no ears here,' he remarked approvingly, ‘and none can approach by the water. We need watch to landward only.' He drew the tobacco smoke deep into his lungs and expelled it slowly through his nostrils. The evening was warm and very still. So still that they could hear the leap of
a little fish a dozen yards away, a quack of water-birds far out on the jheel and the rustle of a small snake that slid through the grass-stems.

Alex had learned patience with much else from the East, and he sat relaxed and silent; watching the shadows lengthen and the smoke from his cigarette rise unwaveringly into the quiet air. He knew that Niaz would speak when he wished to and not before. Meanwhile it was pleasant to sit here and smell the familiar scents of an Indian evening while the sky behind the ragged palm trees blazed with the spectacular glories of a sunset unimaginable to those who live only in Western countries.

At last Niaz said reflectively: ‘I did as thou asked. I took my leave and went on horseback, as befits one of the
rissala
(cavalry), to visit those of my relatives in Oudh and Rohilkhand and Jhansi; from whom I heard much. And when that was done I went on foot, no longer as Niaz Mohammed Khan of the Company's
rissala
, but as Rahim, a man of no consequence. From Ludhiana of the Sikhs to the north of my own
ilaqa
, to Benares of the Unbelievers - and even further south to Burdwan went I; listening to much talk in the twilight and hearing many things in the bazaars and by the way …'