The Rape of Venice (46 page)

Urged on by fierce cold hatred, he began his hunt. Even Malderini, he felt certain, would not have been permitted to enter the women's part of the palace; so he wasted no time looking into the other rooms of the seraglio. Coming on another garden entrance beyond the favourites' corridor, he ran out through it. No. 1 troop had followed his squad through the blown-in door and were hotly engaged in the middle of the garden with a body of about sixty of the Rajah's soldiers. The natives had the advantage of numbers and that, owing to the trees, lily pools and beds of shrubs, the mounted men could not form up to charge. But as Roger came on the scene some fifty yards behind the phalanx of Indians, it suddenly broke. The white-robed figures scattered and ran towards him. Putting spurs to their horses, the hussars came in swift pursuit, crashing across the flower-beds and cutting down the yelling brown men with their sabres.

Suddenly Roger realised that he was still wearing a turban and white robe himself, so he might be mistaken for one of the flying enemy. Wrenching them off, he shouted to his men to do the same, and cried out ‘Clarissa! Clarissa!' He was only just in time. A burly sergeant was charging down upon them, his sabre raised high to cleave a head. With a shout of recognition he swerved off towards another group.

Damaji led the way to a door in a building at right angles to the harem quarters. With blows and kicks they forced it and entered a wide corridor. The rooms that gave off it were store rooms and workshops. In some of them servants and slaves were in the act of trying to hide themselves; in many instances they fell to their knees, banged their heads on the ground and cried out for mercy. Hurrying through the building, Roger and his band crossed a small courtyard, smashed open another door and found themselves in a pillared hall. There, more servants flung themselves down before them, or scattered and fled. Two minutes later Roger was dashing in and out of another row of rooms, all of which had divans and appeared to be the apartments of some of the courtiers; but none of them had things in them which might have belonged to Malderini.

A shout from his corporal brought him back into the passage. From its far end a body of about twenty of the Rajah's guards were running towards them. Although they were outnumbered, they stood their ground, for the passage was only some eight feet wide and, on so narrow a front, not more than three couples could engage one another at a time. The guards were wearing shining brass helmets and corselets of chain-mail, but the hussars were better swordsmen. In the furious cut and thrust that ensued during the next few minutes, they more than held their own for the loss of one man, killing or grievously wounding five of their attackers. Then, as Roger wrenched his sword point back from out of the muscle of an Indian's neck, he glimpsed another group of guards at the far end of the passage running up to reinforce their comrades.

Knowing that the odds were now too great for them to force their way through, he gave the order to retreat. Still cutting and thrusting furiously as they went, they backed away step by step towards the pillared hall. Next moment he was seized with anxiety as to how they would manage when they reached it, since the greater number of guards would be able to spread out and surround them.

Swiftly he saw that they must again stand and fight until help came. The No. 1 troop had had orders to remain in the garden and hold it; so that should Laker fail in his attempt on the main gate, Roger and his squad, having rescued Clarissa, could be certain of getting out that way. Parrying a pike thrust he shouted to the corporal.

‘We must stand here, or we'll be cut up in the hall. Get back to the garden. Bring up half the troop! Tell the rest to keep by the door in the wall. Off now, and quickly. Waste not a minute.'

As the corporal backed out of the scrimmage, another hussar went down beside him. That left only Roger, Damaji and seven of them against at least thirty of the Rajah's guard. Only the narrowness of the passage saved them from being overwhelmed in the next few minutes.

During them, while the sweat poured down Roger's face on account of his exertions, his mind sought frantically for a way out of the desperate situation in which he now found himself as a result of having agreed to the Begum's plot. Had he stuck to his original plan, they might by this time, ill as Clarissa was, have wrapped her in a cocoon of blankets and carried her off on some sort of emergency stretcher.

No sign or sound suggested that Laker had yet forced the
main gate, so Roger had good reason to believe that he might have on his hands the majority of the palace troops. Even with the help for which he had sent the corporal, the struggle must now become a fighting retreat. How, if they had to defend themselves all the way back to the garden door, could they possibly manage to construct a rough litter for Clarissa, collect her and get her away?

Two more of the guards went down and another hussar. Then Roger heard the sound of running feet behind him. Flickering his sword point at a brown moustached face, he suddenly jabbed it into a fierce dark eye then, with a gasp of thankfulness, threw a glance over his shoulder. The gasp turned to one of dismay. It was not the corporal returning with help, but another crowd of yelling natives. He and his men were trapped in the narrow passage.

There was only one thing for it. ‘Quick!' he shouted. ‘Into the room on the left. We'll barricade the door!'

As the men behind him backed into the room, there suddenly came a cry from the crowd of white-clad figures that had just appeared on the scene. It seemed to him at that moment like angels' music. Above the swift pattering of sandalled feet as they rushed forward, their voices chanted ‘Cla-rissa! Cla-rissa!' He knew then that they must be some of Rai-ul-daula's men.

Near exhaustion from ten minutes' unceasing cut and thrust, he backed after his remaining hussars into the room at the side of the passage. The furious onrush of the newcomers swept back the guards. For another ten minutes a frightful struggle raged. The passage was now half blocked by dead and dying, the floor slippery with new-spilt blood. Then the dozen guards who were left standing suddenly panicked, turned and ran, pursued by Rai-ul-daula's yelling men.

Still panting, Roger led his little band out again. They followed the victors at a run. After traversing another long echoing corridor and an empty hall, they burst out into the great forecourt of the palace. Dawn had now come. By its light, Roger saw that the main gate was hanging broken from its hinges. Laker's troopers were inside, sabring little groups of the palace guard that, here and there, were still putting up a resistance. For another ten minutes sporadic fighting continued with its sounds of shots, screams and curses; then they died away.

Laker caught sight of Roger, waved his long curved sword,
rode up to him and cried: ‘I met with no serious opposition in the city, and the palace is now ours. We have only to round up the prisoners. What of Mrs. Brook?'

‘I found her,' Roger replied hoarsely. ‘She is ill, desperately ill; but safe. I've been searching for that fiend Malderini.'

At that moment a big palanquin with red curtains came through the gate. Roger ran towards it expecting that it carried Rai-ul-daula; but, as the bearers halted, one of the curtains was drawn aside and the Begum looked down on him.

‘I have come,' she said, ‘to do what I can for your poor wife.'

He frowned up at her. ‘You knew, then, how ill she was?'

The old lady nodded. ‘I knew; but it would have been no kindness to tell you. It would have disturbed your mind while all your thoughts should have been on our plan to seize the palace. But be sure that from now on she could not be in better care than mine.'

‘I am most grateful to Your Highness,' he murmured. Then he added, ‘I pray you excuse me now. I am seeking the man who is responsible for her state.'

She leaned forward and shook her head. ‘You will not find him. He is gone from here.'

‘Gone!' he repeated, then suppressed a blasphemy that had risen to his lips. ‘I understood he had got himself made Wazier in your son's place.'

‘He did, two mornings since. But perhaps in some way he got wind of your intended attack. I learned only half an hour ago from a eunuch who is in my pay that the Venetian left the city last night.'

Roger could have wept with fury; but there was nothing he could do about it. Even if the direction that Malderini had taken was known, he must now have six or eight hours' start, and to set off in pursuit of him with Clarissa in her present state was out of the question.

He was still endeavouring to fight down his rage when Rai-ul-daula, surrounded by a little crowd of richly dressed nobles, emerged through an archway from an inner court. On seeing Roger, he hastened towards him, opened his arms, embraced him and cried:

‘This day is heaven sent. Last night I believed myself abandoned by gods and men. I was impious, for dawn finds me safe and free. I owe you my life, and vow eternal friendship to you.'

‘Excellency,' Roger replied, ‘you owe me nothing. Had you
not saved my life ten nights ago, how could I have lifted even a finger to aid you. But I joyfully reciprocate your friendship; the more so as I have been appointed a political agent of the Company, and am charged with putting matters to rights in Bahna.'

Rai-ul-daula's eyes, with their awful squint, appeared to be fixed on opposite angles of the courtyard, but the white teeth under his fine upturned moustache flashed in a smile, as he cried, ‘No news could be more welcome. Within an hour I will have sorted the sheep from the goats. We will then hold a
diwan,
and you shall make known the Company's pleasure.'

The Begum's palanquin had already moved on. Pointing after it, Roger said hurriedly, ‘I thank you. Pray excuse me now; I wish to accompany Her Highness, your mother, to my sick wife.' Then, still followed by the remains of his squad, he ran to catch up the palanquin.

He found Clarissa much as he had left her. Angus McCloud was bathing her face but she was still delirious. The Begum forced a few drops of dark liquid between her teeth from a thin phial, and after a few minutes she ceased her low-voiced babbling. To Roger, the old lady said:

‘Her state is much worse than was reported to me. It is her chest. There is inflammation there. It is shown in the manner of her breathing. We must rub her with hot oils. But first we will move her.'

‘Move her?' repeated Roger with a quick frown.

‘Yes; she must have more light and air, more room for attendants to be with her, and be in a place where she will not be disturbed by the nearness and chatter of other women. It is not far, and she will take no harm. The divan can be lifted and carried without disturbing her.'

Damaji was still with them. The Begum turned and spoke to him. He salaamed then, pointing to the divan, looked at Roger. After only a moment's hesitation, Roger called in his men and told them to pick it up. Following the mute, they carried it down the corridor, through a hall and out into a smaller garden that Roger had not yet seen. On the far side of it there stood an ornate pavilion. On entering it, Roger guessed that it was here that the Rajah had slept, sending when he wished for whichever of his houris he favoured at the moment to be brought to him, for its central room contained a big elaborately carved bed, and there were other rooms off it for guards and servitors.

The Begum rejoined them, now accompanied by several other women who had come out of their hiding places on her calling aloud that they had nothing to fear. She sent Roger and his men outside, and for three-quarters of an hour he paced the small garden, a prey to agonising suspense; then she came out to the porch of the pavilion and beckoned him inside.

Clarissa had been transferred to the big bed. Her long hair had been done up in plaits round her head and, although she was in a coma, her expression was much more relaxed. The Begum said to him: ‘Poor child, she is ill; very ill. But I will remain to do all I can for her. There is an entrance behind this place by which you can come to it without passing through the harem. Damaji will show it to you. I have had the divan on which she was carried here placed in the next room. I know you will wish to be with her. You can sleep there if you wish.'

As Roger was thanking her, he heard McCloud calling him; so he went outside. Mahmud Ali was there. He had come with a message from his master that the
diwan
had assembled and awaited Roger's pleasure. No more could be done for Clarissa for the present, so he accompanied the Afghan through the rambling buildings of the palace to the spacious throne room.

In it were now assembled some hundred people. The throne was empty, but ranged round it stood Rai-ul-daula and his friends. Behind them were several eunuchs, fan bearers and a number of the Rajah's guards. To the right stood Laker, most of his officers and a troop of his hussars; to the left a group of a dozen nobles with their arms bound behind them and, two paces in front of the group, young Jawahir-ul-daula, also bound.

As Roger entered, Rai-ul-daula and his companions salaamed; Laker gave an order, the British drew their sabres and presented arms. Drawing himself erect, Roger walked with a firm tread towards the throne, but did not mount it. On the first step he halted, turned and, taking Sir John Shore's Commission from his pocket, read it in a loud voice in English; then he handed it to Rai-ul-daula and said in Persian:

‘Be pleased to have a translation of this document read out.'

A eunuch was called forward and, in a piping falsetto, gave a rendering of the Commission in the dialect of Bahna.

When it was done, Roger turned to Philip Laker. ‘Captain, I desire an escort for His Highness the Rajah. A Lieutenant and six of your men. The two leading files will take him by the arms and bring him before me.'

Laker gave the order. Jawahir-ul-daula's sensual mouth was loose and trembling; his eyes flickered wildly, and his face had a faintly bluish tinge under its bronze. When he had been thrust forward by the two leading troops, Roger said to them: