The Rape of Venice (40 page)

He had made the arduous journey in about five hours, so it was not yet seven o'clock; but the camp was already stirring. The sepoys were milking their goats and lighting fires to cook their chupatties; havildars were shouting orders at fatigue squads and orderlies taking officers' chargers down to water at a stream that flowed through the camp.

A guard was being relieved at the roadside as he passed, but as he was a European no attempt was made to stop him. On slightly higher ground, a quarter of a mile away, stood a row of larger tents and two big marquees, which were obviously the officers' quarters. Riding straight up to them, he threw himself off his horse. For the first time he was conscious of a
terrible fatigue and stiffness of his limbs, but the knowledge that he was now certain of securing help to rescue Clarissa kept his mind buoyant.

In front of one of the tents, a young officer, in his shirtsleeves, was just about to wash in a canvas bucket, and Roger called to him urgently:

‘Colonel Gunston! Where is he? I must see him at once.'

Pointing to one of the marquees, the young man called back. ‘He is in there. But he'll still be asleep, and he is apt to resent being woken early.'

‘I can't help that,' Roger croaked, his voice gone suddenly hoarse. ‘Anyway, he'll not resent it on this occasion. I come on a matter of life or death.'

The young man promptly put down the bowl he was holding, ordered his servant to take Roger's mount and hurried with him over to the marquee. The sentry in front of it came to attention and stood rigid as they passed through the flap. Inside it was divided into two sections, the larger comfortably furnished as a reception room, and behind it a curtained-off sleeping-quarter. In the first a native servant was seated cross-legged on the floor pipe-claying his master's equipment. With a look of surprised apprehension he quickly came to his feet and put a finger to his lips; but the officer told him sharply to wake the Colonel Sahib.

With evident reluctance the man went over to the curtain and called several times, softly, through it. After a moment there came the sound of hearty cursing, then low muttering and a pause.

Roger could hardly contain his impatience. He knew that by this time his escape must have been discovered. When it became evident that he had got clean away Malderini would expect him to return with troops. That meant that the Venetian would expedite his plan for using Clarissa in some horrible occult ceremony; or he might disappear from Bahna with her. But he could not know that Roger had been aided in his escape and supplied with a horse and guide; so he would probably count himself safe for several days at least. There was, therefore, still a good chance to take him by surprise before he could harm Clarissa. But only if Gunston broke camp at once, for it would take two days to march the troops through the hills; so every moment counted.

Suddenly the curtain was wrenched aside, and Gunston appeared, wrapped in a chamber-robe, his red hair tousled and his beefy face flushed with anger. Beyond him Roger
caught a glimpse of a wide-eyed young native girl with small firm breasts sitting up among the rumpled coverings of a divan.

‘What the hell's the meaning of this?' Gunston shouted. Then, recognising his visitor, he exclaimed, ‘Why, damn'e if it isn't Roger Brook! And what a state you're in, man! You look as if you'd been beset by robbers and barely got away. But what the devil brings you here?'

‘I come from Bahna,' Roger cried. ‘You were there recently. You met a Venetian, a man named Malderini, and told him that Clarissa and I were in Calcutta.'

‘Did I! Why, yes; perhaps I made mention of you to him. But what of it?'

‘He bears me a deadly grudge. He came down to Calcutta, and while I was up at Chinsurah kidnapped Clarissa.'

Gunston's sandy eyebrows shot up. ‘Good God! The swine! D'you mean he's holding her prisoner in Bahna?'

‘Yes. I followed; but he guessed I would and laid an ambush for me. He meant to kill me by slow torture; but by the grace of God I escaped, and have been riding hell for leather through the hills all night.'

‘Well done! I will say you never lacked for guts, Brook. But what of Clarissa?'

‘To arrange her escape was impossible. That fiend has her prisoner still, and threatens all sorts of abominations for her.'

‘Poor girl! What a hellish business! I don't wonder at the state you're in. But what's to be done?'

‘Done!' cried Roger. ‘Why, sound the alarm! Parade your troops! Break camp!'

‘What's this you say?'

‘Give orders for an immediate march. Every moment is precious. We can start in an hour. We'll be through the mountains in two days. Two nights hence we'll take the city by surprise, and have her out of his clutches.'

Gunston's full mouth fell open; then he shook his head. ‘I'm sorry for you, Brook. Indeed I am. And I've never concealed from you that I've a soft spot for Clarissa. But this trouble must have driven you out of your mind. What you suggest is impossible.'

‘Impossible!' Roger gasped. ‘You cannot mean. …'

‘I mean that, were you my dearest friend, or Clarissa my own wife, I could not use the Company's troops in a private quarrel. And I have my orders. They are in no circumstances to start a war with the Rajah of Bahna.'

Roger swore, argued, cursed, reasoned and pleaded; but all in vain. He explained that the Wazier intended to bring the Rajah's army over to them; so there would be no fighting. Gunston replied that he would not trust the word of any native, let alone a cross-eyed one. Roger implored him to at least make a demonstration in force. Gunston countered that it would need only one fool on either side to let off a musket for the demonstration to become a bloody battle. Roger begged for one company of infantry with which to make the attempt himself. Gunston refused on the grounds that they were his troops, his orders were positive and, if even a score of them were used in an act of war, he would be held responsible. Roger called him a coward. Gunston, with commendable restraint, declared that he would not accept a challenge from a man who was out of his mind. Finally, driven to a frenzy by the thought of Clarissa, and that Gunston had the means to save her but would not use them, Roger rushed upon him and attempted to strike him in the face.

Thoroughly worn out, as Roger was, his assault failed dismally. Gunston was fresh from a night's sleep and, in any case, the stronger physically. He seized Roger's wrists and held him off; then bellowed an order that he should be put in irons and taken to a tent. Five minutes later Roger was dragged away manacled and pushed into a tent, the flap of which was laced up and a guard put on duty outside it.

The tent was a spare officer's quarter what a mat on the floor and a low divan. Choking with rage at having been put in irons, racked with anguish by fears for Clarissa, and utterly distraught at the thought that there was now no hope of
rescuing her, he flung himself down. Nature, too, had chosen this moment to exact from him the price of his exertions and ordeals. He ached in every limb, he could hardly see out of his eyes, his head seemed on fire and his brain was bemused.

For Roger to lose his temper was a very rare thing. Vaguely he realised that he had been a fool to do so, and that he would not have had he been thwarted by anyone other than Gunston; but, from his school-days, the sight of that ruddy, coarsely handsome face had been to him as a red rag to a bull. His mind went back to Sherborne and Gunston's bullying him there—snatching and spoiling his small precious belongings, and taunting him into fights he could not hope to win.

It was now more than twenty-four hours since he had closed his eyes. During them he had ridden nearly eighty miles, and been harrowed by every sort of exhausting emotion. With tenuous memories of his school-days still drifting through his mind, he fell into a profound sleep.

When he awoke it was night. For a moment he could not think where he was; then, as he moved, the clank of irons that confined his wrists and ankles brought everything back to him. He had been roused by the entrance of a tall figure holding a lantern, who now stood beside the divan. With a groan he stared up into the shadow above the light and made out the face of the officer who had taken him to Gunston's marquee. The young man said:

‘The Colonel sends his compliments, Sir; and says that if you are prepared to conduct yourself in a reasonable manner he would be pleased to see you.'

Roger sat up. He had slept the clock round. Owing to the resilience from strain and exertion which came from a naturally vigorous mentality, the habit of facing up to difficult situations, and excellent health, his mind was clear and his body no longer feeling the effects of fatigue. He managed to raise a rather strained laugh, and replied:

‘I fear I behaved very badly yesterday—or was it this morning? Anyway, if you'll have me relieved of these irons I'll promise not to repeat the performance.'

The officer called into the tent a farrier corporal and, with a twisted smile, Roger watched while, for the second time in twenty-four hours, fetters were knocked from his limbs; then he accompanied the youngster who had been sent to fetch him to the Colonel's marquee.

Gunston was sitting in an easy chair behind a table that had
on it a decanter of Madeira and two glasses. As Roger was shown in, he gave him a sharp glance, dismissed the officer, and said:

‘You were not yourself this morning, Brook; but in the circumstances I can hardly blame you. I'd have you, though, remember two things: firstly, that I am not a free agent to do as I wish; secondly, that although we have never had any love for one another, this is no time to quarrel. Sit down now, and join me in a glass of wine. There will be a meal for you presently. I thought you would prefer to feed on your own rather than sup with the rest of us in mess.'

‘That was considerate of you,' Roger replied. ‘I am in no state to support trivial conversation with strangers. As for this morning, I apologise. You were right about my being out of my mind; but the horrors that threaten Clarissa.…'

‘I know. I would to God my hands had not been tied by our poltroon of a Governor; but we'll get nowhere by going again into that.' As Gunston spoke he was pouring the Madeira. Setting down the decanter, he added: ‘I've despatched a Captain with a troop as escort to inform the Rajah that should one hair of Mrs. Brook's head be harmed we'll hang him from his own gate. But more than that I could not do. I could not demand the surrender of her person, since to do so would have amounted to an ultimatum.'

Roger's throat was parched, so he drank off the first glass of wine in three long swallows. While doing so he considered the possible results of Gunston's move. He feared the probability was that the young Rajah, being under Malderini's influence, would ignore the threat. It was certain, too, that the Captain would mention Roger's arrival at the British camp, and that might invite the Venetian to hasten in his designs against Clarissa.

However, it was clear that Gunston had acted with the best intentions, so Roger tactfully refrained from voicing his thoughts, and said, ‘We can only pray that Jawahir-ul-daula heeds your warning. You will appreciate, though, that unlike yourself I am not bound by any orders, and cannot possibly sit here with folded hands awaiting events.'

‘I would not expect you to; but you can do nothing without help. Your best plan would be to return to Calcutta and induce Sir John Shore to send me fresh instructions, empowering me to demand her release and, if need be, march on Bahna.'

‘That seems the only course open to me,' Roger agreed.

‘May I take it you would provide me with a guide and escort?'

‘Certainly.' Gunston refilled their glasses, and went on after a moment. ‘I must warn you of one thing, though. As the old Bible-puncher never intended me to fight, he did not provide me with a force adequate to do so. My information is that Jawahir-ul-daula can put into the field an army of some four thousand men. I have only some eight hundred: a battalion of sepoys much under strength, a single battery, and some details of scouts and sappers. Apart from the officers and a troop of horse, none of them are Europeans.'

Roger shrugged. ‘As I told you this morning, the Wazier, Rai-ul-daula, will bring the Bahna army over to us.'

‘If you prove right in that, well and good. But I'd not trust to it. These native gentry are tricky customers. Should things go wrong, I'd find myself with a battle on my hands that I'd not care to have to fight.'

‘I see,' said Roger uneasily. ‘Still, in the worst event, we might take the city by surprise in a night attack.'

‘That's easier said than done. Once we have shown our hand you may be sure they'll keep the walls well manned. They might even sally out and, having so great an advantage in numbers, overwhelm us. No; the remedy lies in your bringing me reinforcements. A good stiffening of British troops is what I need; and preferably cavalry. Were he able to send me my own regiment of Dragoons, I'd make mincemeat of the whole Bahna army. But they are not available, so you must take what you can get. At a minimum it should be two hundred sabres, two companies of redcoats and another battery of artillery. With less, if your man plays the traitor to us, it could be only a desperate gamble.'

‘Very well,' Roger agreed. ‘You may be sure I shall secure as large a force as possible. When can I set off?'

‘As early as you wish tomorrow morning.'

‘Why not tonight?'

Gunston gave a sudden laugh. ‘You have only yourself to blame that my hospitality up till now has been so lacking. But you should see yourself in a mirror. You are as haggard as a corpse, and look as though you had been dug up from a grave after being buried in your clothes. You need a bath, a barber, a good night's sleep and a fresh rig-out before you'll be in a fit state to travel.'