In the City of Gold and Silver (34 page)

“For every British person slain, we have lost at least ten men! Do you not think it is enough? Furthermore, I refuse to attack a column of refugees with hundreds of their wounded. I am not Nana Sahib. And Rajah Jai Lal, the head of the army, shares my point of view. Do not insist. My decision is irrevocable: these people will leave in peace.”

 

The population celebrates the evacuation of the Residency as a great victory: all the British have left Awadh, except for Outram and a detachment of two thousand soldiers, who have remained to guard the Alambagh stronghold. The Indians boast that those, too, will soon be expelled.

There is a general mood of optimism, all the more so as they have just learnt of Tantia Tope's victory over General Windham and of the recapture of Kanpur. The possibility of liberating the towns of Benares and Allahabad, which had belonged to Awadh before the disastrous Treaty of 1801, is discussed elatedly. Begum Hazrat Mahal even has the generals summoned to ask them to draw up a plan. Now nothing seems impossible!

T
he recapture of Kanpur is to be short-lived. By mid-December, the town is in British hands again.
Nana Sahib, who has a price on his head, has fled; his whereabouts remain unknown.

As for his advisor, Azimullah Khan, no one has seen him. Since his body was not found on the battlefield, it is presumed he followed the Nana in his flight. However, Hazrat Mahal has her doubts: this is not consistent with his character. She has only met Azimullah once but remains convinced that while the man is capable of cruelty and cynicism, he is above all a nationalist, and will go to any extreme to free his country. Not being able to influence his terrified master any longer, it is likely Azimullah has left him in order to pursue the battle on his own terms. This brilliant, unscrupulous character's preferred area of expertise is not armed warfare, even though one must admit he is endowed with unusual self-control—it is claimed he smokes cigars on the battlefield while bombs explode all around him!—his speciality is the art of conspiracy and he excels at it.

During the following months, rumour has it that Azimullah Khan was spotted in Hyderabad with the rebel officers, then in Jodhpur, Poona and various other towns of central India, where the population is growing restless. As if by chance, wherever he goes, uprisings quickly break out. It is even whispered that he was arrested in Bhopal, but soon released, as the begum there had no desire to have Nana Sahib's protégé executed and to upset the man who may well be the next peishwa.

For his part, General Tantia Tope has been driven out of Kanpur and, as he can no longer count on Nana Sahib, he has decided to return to central India, his homeland, accompanied by Rao Sahib, his master's nephew. He has every intention of instigating a rebellion there amongst the Mahrattas.

 

Nonetheless, in Lucknow, the regent and her high command are worried.

During this month of January 1858, they are expecting another attack, much worse than the previous ones, as they know General Campbell has received large numbers of reinforcements from England, now on their way to Awadh.

Hazrat Mahal has undertaken the fortification of Lucknow. Fifteen thousand men are busy erecting bulwarks
 
all around the town, except to the north, where the Gomti River acts as a natural barrier. Barricades are put up in every street and every alley, the main buildings are reinforced and every house is fitted with firing slots.

The trenches around Kaisarbagh have been filled with water from the Gomti and the army has established three lines of defence. The palaces have been transformed into veritable fortresses with bastions at every corner, the largest of which now houses the Armed Forces High Command; they are defended by one hundred and twenty-seven cannons.

If, in spite of all these preparations, the main fortifications were still to be wiped out, the resistance is to continue in the town centre, and old muskets have been distributed to the inhabitants. As always, though, ammunition is in short supply. To remedy this, the sepoys show great ingenuity. They invent a thousand ways of making shells: clay shells filled with iron filings, shells made of enormous wooden cylinders, stone shells, or even jute bags stuffed with shrapnel and gunpowder—all these equipped with improvised detonators. Old women are also paid to venture beyond the ramparts to collect stray bullets.

The regent is present on all fronts. Mounted on the royal elephant, she visits every construction site to encourage the men and to ensure ration distributions are sufficient. Many, in fact, have nothing left to eat. Ever since the fields were burnt by the enemy army, cereals are difficult to come by and expensive. And so
 
she has appointed a leader for each area to make sure that no one starves to death, and she has ordered, if necessary, to confiscate food from the rich to feed the poor.

She
 
has also summoned the bankers to request a two million rupee loan, which they have flatly refused. But with skilful negotiating, proffering in turn threats and promises, she has managed to obtain a first instalment. It is far from sufficient, as no matter how loyal the soldiers are, they have to be paid. They cannot fight on empty stomachs, nor can they allow their families to die of hunger. Hazrat Mahal then decides to have her jewellery and all her gold and silver ornaments melted down. Despite the begums' indignant cries, she compels them to do the same. Out of the money thus obtained, she secretly sets aside a small war chest to finance her diplomatic actions.

The first will be to bring in, incognito, an Indian officer stationed in Kanpur, where there are still four native regiments under British command. Embarrassed, the officer attempts to explain the specific circumstances that prevented his regiments from joining the rebellion, but the Queen Mother interrupts him smoothly:

“I understand, Khan Sahib. It is however inconceivable that your soldiers and mine, Indians, brothers, slaughter each other!”

“I must admit, Huzoor, that my men and I feel trapped. We loathe the idea of fighting against our own, but at the slightest sign of indiscipline, we will be hung immediately.”

“So why not order your troops to fire blanks? We will of course do the same.”

“Yes, but afterwards? We will be executed for mutiny!”

“There will be no afterwards. Your sepoys will fire blanks and promptly join our ranks to fire at the British, with real bullets this time!”

The begum has finally been able to convince her visitor. They review the last details together, and a sum of one thousand rupees to be shared with his men seals the agreement.

Every day, Hazrat Mahal is busy from dawn to dusk, organising and mobilising everyone around her, but when she returns home exhausted, she has other problems to contend with. The begums in their Kaisarbagh Palace have formed a united front against her. The confiscation of their jewels had been the last straw. Their jealousy and irritation had been mounting for some time now, given the new Queen Mother's power; after all, she was only the fourth wife, and, moreover, from a humble background!

Mir Wajid Ali, the ammunition factory's former director, suspected by some to be loyal to the British, has fanned the flames. Frightening the women with descriptions of the enemy's victories, the power of their cannons and their own camp's weak points, he has managed to persuade them that their new regent is incompetent, and of the danger of leaving decision-making power in her hands. Under his influence, a strong protest movement has flourished within the palace, with the women tirelessly picking fights
 
and attempting to undermine the regent's authority.

Despite the fact that Hazrat Mahal tries to convince herself this is only inconsequential jealousy, and
 
that she is above these petty intrigues, she cannot help but feel hurt by these cruel attacks. Fortunately there is Mumtaz! She has had a room near hers renovated for her friend, and they spend long moments together.

Even though Mumtaz is a comfort to her, she can hardly advise her on political matters. Hazrat Mahal misses the lengthy discussions with Jai Lal. She would so love to have him next to her as before; he who always knows what to do, while she, riddled with anxiety, hesitates, asking herself a thousand questions. His fortitude and decisive mind fascinate her. He reassures her when she has doubts, and his confidence and admiration give her the energy to move forward.

She looks for opportunities to meet him. In this Court, where no one can be trusted, Jai Lal's presence, his warm voice, his smile, have become indispensable to her.

Yet, the rajah remains on the defensive. He realises that the young woman is trying to revive their former relationship, but then there was only mutual friendship and admiration between them, whereas now . . . He knows he cares for her as he has never cared for any other woman. But what about her? What does she feel for him? She is so unpredictable . . . alternating between aloofness and charm for no apparent reason . . . He has no desire to give in to her yet again. Did he not see her flirting with Prince Firoz the other day?

How could he guess that Firoz Shah is the least of the begum's concerns?

 

* * *

 

General Frank's troops, reinforced by the Gurkhas provided by Jung Bahadur, Nepal's prime minister and the country's strong man, constitute Sir Campbell's vanguard. They march towards Awadh, conquering towns after hard-won battles, but the moment the Nepalese leave, the Indians launch further attacks and free them again. They harass the British army all along the route. Never admitting defeat, they incessantly renew their offensives and recapture the lost positions every time.

For General Frank, the objective is not to pacify Awadh—that would require far more troops—but to reach Lucknow. His forces make good progress supported by the Gurkhas—small, stocky warriors of legendary cruelty. They must absolutely be stopped before the panic-stricken population of Awadh flees before them. The begum's high command decides to send a dozen regiments to counter their advance.

The sepoys
 
have gone only a few miles when a horseman, riding at breakneck speed, catches up with them. He brings a message from Maulvi Ahmadullah Shah:

 

“Turn back! You have been deceived! The begum and the Court party want to keep you away while they negotiate the town's surrender to the British. Return immediately to prevent this treason! It is a sacred order from God's vice regent, whom you must obey!”

 

The men hesitate; they have sworn allegiance to the young king and the Queen Mother, but they are impressed by the maulvi: he is a brave warrior and a holy man. Why would he trick them? After a long discussion, they decide to turn around and return to the capital.
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The incident stirs up a hornet's nest and sparks off an open crisis. When accused, Ahmadullah Shah replies by publicly contesting the begum's and the “turbaned group's”
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authority, and he threatens to proclaim himself king.

His troops and the begum's confront each other in a series of skirmishes, until on January 7th, the two sides fight each other in a real pitched battle. It has already been underway for several hours and has caused about two hundred deaths when the regent herself appears, interrupting the battle. And from her palanquin, with blazing eyes, she chastises the fighters:

“Have you gone mad? The enemy is at our doorstep and instead of protecting the population, you are killing each other! How could I have ever trusted you?”

The fighting stops. At the regent's reprimand, the men lower their heads in embarrassment. Seeing this, she relents:

“Go home and preserve your strength to defend your town and your families against the Angrez. I am counting on your loyalty and your courage.”

 

Amidst these internal conflicts, the commander-in-chief of the Indian army, Sir Colin Campbell, renews his offensive against Awadh. He would have preferred to wait until autumn and first put down the revolts, which are constantly breaking out in the surrounding areas, but politically, Lucknow remains a priority.

 

“All eyes in India are trained on Awadh, as they were on Delhi,” Lord Canning writes to him from Calcutta. “It is the sepoys' last rallying point, the focus of all their hopes, the only centre that still represents a dynasty. The native leaders have been waiting the last two years to see if we are capable of retaining what we captured, in order to draw their conclusions.”*

 

And so Sir Colin sets out. With thirty thousand men, including sixteen regiments from the royal army and a powerful artillery battalion, he commands the largest force assembled by the British in India.

Progress is slow, as the railway lines can only take them one hundred and twenty miles, from Calcutta to as far as Raniganj. Then the companies and all the supplies—cannons, ammunition, ladders and siege equipment—are transported for the remaining nine hundred miles separating them from Kanpur on elephant back or bullock carts. The whole lot makes up a siege train about ten miles long.

The scorching heat forces the men to halt between 10 in the morning and 4 in the afternoon, and so they are unable to proceed more than twenty-five to thirty miles a day. It will take them over three weeks to travel from Calcutta to Benares. From the holy town, they only advance in detachments of three or four companies, as the region is infested with groups of insurgents. After Allahabad, they even have to cover the last one hundred and fifty miles to Kanpur on foot.

Finally by mid-February, the whole army is assembled in Kanpur, and after a few days' rest, is ready to march on Lucknow. Lord Canning, however, asks Campbell to wait: the prime minister of Nepal is keen to participate in the siege. The town's wealth is legendary and he has every intention of obtaining a share of the booty. No one is fooled, but they cannot annoy such an important ally. Cursing, Campbell will wait a while; then, having run out of patience, on February 28th he orders his army to cross the Ganges.