The Rape of Venice (45 page)

For this there was now no time to lose; so, as soon as the Afghan had been summoned, Roger hurried upstairs with him. Leaning from the window, he called softly down to McCloud, ‘All's well.' The Cornet called back an acknowledgement and went forward at a crouching run, a vague figure seen only for a moment in the starlight.

Ten minutes later he was back with his men spaced out at intervals behind him. Mahmud Ali had already lowered the rope. A hefty Corporal swarmed up it. After him came the eleven troopers, and finally young McCloud. The second stage of the venture had been accomplished without the alarm Roger so dreaded having sounded.

Roger told the Afghan that, as there were still five hours to go before the attack, he would like his men to be given a chance to doss down during the time of waiting. Mahmud Ali took them through the back quarters of the house, stopping at a larder, from which he handed out the best part of a cold goose, a big bowl of rice mixed with onions and sweet peppers, and a large flat dough-cake; then he led them across a courtyard to a stable in the stalls of which several horses were dozing. Pointing to some bales of clean straw, he indicated that they should make themselves comfortable.

Having seen their men cheerfully settled at their midnight meal, Roger and McCloud accompanied Mahmud Ali back to the Begum's sanctum. After presenting McCloud to her, Roger said that they, too, would like to rest, if it was agreeable to her, until the fateful hour arrived. She agreed that his wish was a wise one, but insisted that they must first eat, and sent the Afghan back to the kitchen quarters. He returned with a dish
of quails, a ragout of rice and antelope, and a copper platter on which were piled a variety of sweet cakes.

Young McCloud tucked in as eagerly as at a dormitory feast, but Roger was so keyed up that he could eat hardly anything. When they had done, the Begum told them to make themselves comfortable on the big divan, put out all the lamps but one and, carrying that away, left them.

Soon after four o'clock she returned to rouse them. McCloud was snoring, but Roger had hardly closed an eye. He sat up, instantly alert, to hear the results of her clandestine correspondence with the ex-Wazier. As he listened he became more tense than ever with excitement. His original plan had been limited to a daring raid to seize and carry off Clarissa; later he had offered to include in the enterprise an attempt to rescue Rai-ul-daula. Now the plan had been amplified to nothing less than the capture of the city.

With intense concentration he strove to take in the exact meaning of the sentences spoken by the Begum in Persian. Some he asked her to repeat, until he felt confident that he had a complete grasp of the whole scheme. First, as planned by himself, he must capture the gate and let in the waiting squadron of cavalry. Next, some of them must go, guided by Mahmud Ali, to Rai-ul-daula's palace, slaughter the guards set about it, and restore him to freedom. Roger, meanwhile, guided by Damaji, could go as he had intended to the garden door by which a eunuch had let them out of the palace. But, simultaneously, the great main gate of the palace should also be attacked to draw off the palace guard. Rai-ul-daula's friends commanded the greater part of the Bahna army, and would keep it from intervening; but in the palace, the Rajah's men were expected to prove loyal to him. There were several hundred of them; unless they could be overcome swiftly, other bodies of troops might decide to disobey their officers, join them, and assist in driving the British out of the city. If, owing to some delay, that were allowed to happen, disaster would overwhelm them all.

Roger and his men were all provided with white native garments and turbans. At a quarter to five, led by Mahmud Ali and Damaji, they filed out of the house into the street. Three minutes' walk brought them to within a few yards of the gate. The majority of the party crouched back in the pitch blackness of an angle made by the walls of the nearest tower, while the two natives went forward. Mahmud Ali spoke to a sentry who
was leaning against the door of the gatehouse. After showing some reluctance, the man went inside and returned with his officer. Mahmud Ali whipped a knife from under his robe. In one stroke he severed the officer's throat. At the same moment, Damaji fell upon the sentry. With the side of his palm he struck him sharply under the chin and, as his head went back, plunged a knife in his stomach.

The group waiting in the shadows ran forward. McCloud joined Mahmud Ali at the gate and helped him draw back the immense strong teak beam that, like a huge bolt, held the two halves of the gate shut. The others followed Damaji through a door in the base of the tower into the guard-room. By the light of a single oil lamp a brief grim tussle ensued. Within three minutes the remainder of the guard were senseless or gasping out their lives. Roger felt it to be a horrible business, but knew that it was necessary. No other course could have prevented a premature alarm ruining his plans; so it was either no quarter for the guard or death for himself and all who were with him.

Needing no bidding, the troopers now flung themselves on the great wooden winch heaving it round so that the thick hempen hawser coiled about the drum slowly drew the nearest half of the great gate back. As soon as there was an opening wide enough, McCloud slipped through and, as fast as his legs would carry him, raced down the road.

As he did so, a voice called down from the top of the tower above the guard-room. It could not have been McCloud's running off outside that had attracted the attention of the sentry up there, as he was leaning over the inside parapet and his head and shoulders could be seen against the paling sky. He must have heard the creaking of the great winch; but it was still almost pitch dark down in the well between the two towers, so he could not have seen that half the gate was actually open.

At the sound of his voice, Roger's party stopped dead in their tracks; then Mahmud Ali called up something that seemed to reassure the sentry. He drew back from the parapet and half-a-dozen of the troopers filed quickly into the other gatehouse. Grabbing the spokes of the winch there, they began to drag the other half of the gate open.

For a few minutes Roger waited in breathless suspense, staring out through the open gate along the still dark road. Suddenly he caught the sound of a muted drumming. It was
the squadron, with the hoofs of their horses muffled in old rags, coming up at a canter.

The sentry had caught it too. Next moment a shot rang out. Then another and another, from other sentries posted farther off along the wall. Roger could see the squadron now as a black compact mass swiftly approaching.

‘Laker!' he shouted. ‘Laker! Here I am!'

In a swirl of dust, the Captain pulled up beside him, while the squadron streamed past them under the tall arch. A dozen men of the garrison were shooting now, but the attackers got by almost unharmed. In the last troop, one man was hit in the arm, another had an ear chipped and, with a screaming neigh, a wounded horse pitched its rider. The rest rode on, pulling up in the adjacent streets, the houses in which gave them temporary cover from the sentries on the walls.

To make himself heard above the din of cries, shots and curses, Roger had to shout at Laker but, by an exchange of a dozen quick sentences, they modified the plan they had agreed on; for now, with the help Rai-ul-daula would give them, they could hope to capture the city. It was agreed that No. 1 troop should go with Roger to secure Clarissa; Nos. 2 and 3, under Laker with Mahmud Ali as guide, were first to free the ex-Wazier, then attack the main gate of the palace; while No. 4 troop should remain there to hold the gate in case they were forced to retreat through it.

While Laker shouted his orders, and passed the recognition battle-cry ‘Clarissa' to his officers, Damaji, Roger, McCloud and their squad of twelve picked men each took a grip on the stirrup leather of one of the No. 1 troop. Led by the red-jacketed mute they set off up the street, running beside the mounted troopers. Within five minutes they entered the narrow lane, one side of which was formed by the wall of the palace garden. Those running let go their hold and swiftly formed a group outside the door which had been opened by the eunuch on the night of Roger's escape. Meanwhile, the mounted men divided into two sections, each trotting to one end of the street and halting there ready to resist any attempt to interfere with Roger and his party.

Two of the special squad produced canisters of gunpowder that Roger had had them bring in with them, and a third a length of fuse. McCloud placed the canisters against the gate and fixed the fuse. The corporal lit it with his tinder-box, and they all ran back. The fuse spluttered and a small blue flame
ran along it; there came a bright flash and a shattering explosion. Without waiting for the smoke to clear, Roger rushed at the door and, followed by his men, flung himself against it. The explosion had shattered the lower part and sprung its hinges. Two minutes' ramming by muscular shoulders and they had forced the wrecked door far enough back to get through.

McCloud blew his whistle to call up the mounted men while Roger, half-blinded by smoke, staggered into the garden. Dawn was not far off and there was now sufficient light for him to get his bearings. When crossing the garden before, he had heard a woman's laughter coming from a long low building that lay to his right. Damaji had come up with him and pointed at it, confirming his belief that it was a part of the harem. Followed by the troopers, now wielding their drawn sabres, they pelted across the garden towards it.

The firing down by the city gate had increased, and lights coming on in the building showed that the sound must have aroused some of its inmates. As Roger raced towards it a door at the top of a shallow flight of steps swung open and the portly form of a eunuch showed framed in it against the light. At the sight of the dark figures running towards him, he gave a shrill cry of fright and quickly shut the door again. But before he could bolt it, Roger was up the steps. With one violent kick he forced it back a foot, then jabbed with his sword through the opening. The point of the blade caught the eunuch in the arm. He gave a screech of pain and, clasping at his wound, staggered aside. A moment later the whole squad was tumbling inside.

They had entered a bare tiled hallway with graceful arches in its walls. Another eunuch was standing in one of them. His eyes wide in their puffy sockets, he turned and fled. Instinctively Roger dashed after him. A dozen strides carried him down a short passage and into a long silk-curtained room. In it there were a score of divans and as many scantily clad houris, just aroused from sleep. They began to scream. Those who were nearest cowered back against the walls; others, at the far end of the apartment, fled like a herd of terrified gazelles bunching, together as they stampeded through a further archway.

At a glance, Roger had seen that Clarissa was not among them. With flying feet, he pursued the huddle of dark heads, streaming veils, and shapely brown limbs through the archway into another chamber. It was very similar to the first, but occupied by a number of older women, evidently the concubines
of the young Rajah's father. Most of them, too, were now screaming, but some showed a bolder face, and one flung a dagger at Roger. It missed him, but struck one of the troopers behind him, gashing his cheek. With a thrust of his left hand, Roger pushed the woman over, and sped on after the younger ones through yet another archway.

It opened onto a passage at one side of which there were a number of curtained doorways. Ripping aside the first curtain he came to he saw beyond it a comfortably furnished room with a tumbled divan from which its occupant had already fled. The next was similarly furnished and also empty. These, evidently, were the apartments of the favourites. One after the other he snatched at the silk curtains, peered for an instant into the abandoned rooms, and hurried on. In the sixth room, lying on its divan, he found Clarissa.

For a moment he thought she was asleep; then he realised that she could not possibly have slept through the piercing screams and clamour made by the other women during the past few minutes. Yet if she was not asleep—an ice-cold hand gripped his heart—she must be dead.

Clarissa was lying on her back, covered to the chin. Her eyes were closed, her long pale gold hair, of which she took such care, was tangled on the pillow; but her cheeks had the warm flush of life. Suddenly she groaned.

Calling her name, Roger flung himself down beside her. She did not answer but began to turn her head uneasily from side to side. He saw now that there were little beads of perspiration on her forehead, and that the flush in her cheeks was too hectic to be natural. Her small imperious aquiline nose stood out white, sharp and bony from between them. Each faint breath she drew came with a little rasp. Gently he put his lips to hers, and found them burning. That light caress confirmed the fact that had already dawned upon him. She was in the grip of a high fever.

‘Oh, Clarissa!' he cried. ‘My sweet, my darling! What have they done to you?'

His anguished cry aroused her from her torpor. The long lashes that made fans on her cheeks fluttered and her eyes opened. As he bent over her, she looked straight up at him but showed no sign of recognition. Then, turning her head from side to side again, she began to babble incoherently.

After a moment, he realised that there was nothing he could immediately do for her. A stool, a bowl of rose-water, and a square of damp linen beside the bed showed that up till a few minutes ago she was being nursed by one of the other women. The nurse must be found as soon as possible, and a doctor. But there was no chance of that until the Rajah's troops had been overcome and order in the palace restored. Meanwhile
Malderini, the fiend who had brought his fair love to this sorry pass, might get away.

Coming to his feet he cried to McCloud, ‘Stay with her. Bathe her face with that rose-water. I'll be back as quickly as I can. Two of the men I'll leave with you. The rest I'll take. I've a man to kill.'