Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (24 page)

"Wed the widow of the man I killed?" Ram was genuinely shocked. "Then my situation would be desperate indeed."

"Aye," Hume agreed. "But I must settle this somehow or resign. It was Bea who caused it all, though Lord knows Ritter was nigh killing Annie wi' his cruelty. Laddie, you should get away till things blow over. Later, I could perhaps take ye back safely."

"But where could I go? What could I do?"

"Man, don't I know every coss o' Bengal? I could—hey, what of that rajah ye call Bajaji Rao? Could ye no' go tae him? From what ye've dropped, he's like tae have fightin' tae be done."

Aye, and you hope I'll be killed in it and off your mind. Ram thought. Yet, why not—not being killed, but being with Baja, which is what the Maratha had always hinted at? "If I did go to him, when would he get those guns and munitions?"

"When he pays in good gold," Trader Hume said promptly. "As governor, I could give two brass guns from the fort, wi' powder and ball to boot, and replace 'em when the stuff he ordered comes from Ostend. And if more's wanted—muskets, swords and the like— I'll provide 'em for a very low profit."

"I'll think on it." Ram was laughing inside. How easy it was!

"Now, I couldn't let ye go officially" Hume's voice dropped, "but I'll see your guards are sleepy gowks. Ye'd steal away secretly, and I, as governor, would storm and rant to fool the others. Lad, we'll gull the bloody-minded souls yet!"

Alone, Ram paced exultantly. Guns, ammunition, adventure! Just what he'd come to India for. Damme, where was Baja?

CHAPTER 8 RAKOSAWAN STATE, 1724-25

"First troop all present and correct?" Ram demanded formally.

"All correct, lord." Khafi Khan the Pathan bowed and fell into step as Ram walked slowly along the ranks, inspecting a musket here, checking the rags around a man's spur chain there.

Ram moved on to second troop, where he was saluted by Uzoor Singh, and inspected it also. There was little to criticize; trust the grizzled Sikh to keep a tight hand on his men.

Last the guns. Sam Jakes brought his men to attention by swearing at them in his broken Hindustani. He gave Ram a half-grudging salute. "Both pieces shipshape and the wheels is wrapped in rags, Cap'n," he reported. "Now, 'twill depend on 'ow much these black buggers remember what I lamed 'em."

"Good." Ram had little liking for this ex-gunner's mate who had deserted the H.E.I.C. ship Diamond; but it was Baja who had enlisted him, after finding him starving in a Puri bazaar.

Striding front and center, he scrutinized his command with some satisfaction. Six months before these men had been Pindarees, independent, turbulent and with no discipline. Now, by dint of sweat and patience, he'd turned them into European-style dragoons, trained to fight as deadly musketeers or slashing cavalrymen.

This then was his army; two troops each of forty men, and twenty men for the two six-pounder brass guns. It was scarcely as large as Alexander's when the latter had captured that hill fort in India 2,000 years before, but it was larger than Ram's own broomstick "company" he had used to capture the imaginary fort in the fells above

Dalesview. But he was its captain, colonel, commander in chief, and within a few hours he'd be leading it to capture a real hill fort not ten miles away in Rakosawan,

Father would be proud of me, he mused. Here I am, not yet of legal age, and a colonel of sorts. Yes, he'd be proud.

Abruptly he ordered the men dismissed and the oflBcers to join him under a huge banyan tree.

The map he produced was scarcely his best work, since he'd had to make it from data supplied by two of Baja's spies, but it showed all essential features and places.

"We march when the sun wanes." He traced a route with his forefinger. "Here's the pass and here's the first fort. Uzoor Singh Sahib, your men will turn off here. You, Khafi Khan Sahib, will hold your troop under this ridge." To Jakes he said in English: "Gunner, a guide will show you where to swing the guns off the road here. You'll manhandle 'em from there on."

And again in the vernacular: "Remember, once the fort's ours, minutes count if we're to surprise Ahmedpur."

Khafi Khan tugged his straggly beard. "And what of Dadaji Rao? Is his army to do nothing and we everything?"

"Why else would he employ us? Bajaji convinced him we can win more swiftly and secretly than he can with all his men and elephants. He'll take over when we've captured the places."

Uzoor Singh's teeth showed in a wide grin. "Wah, a brave warrior is our rajah. That fat one has little stomach for war."

"Remember our share of the loot," Ram reminded. "Now, to your posts and await my signal."

Left alone, he leaned against a tree root, watching the sun. When it sank behind yonder hill, it would be time to march.

The distant trumpeting of an elephant told him that Dadaji Rao's rabble was moving up from the rear. He frowned. It was necessary that Baja find employment for the little army; yet Ram regretted that it was in the service of this Dadaji, Rajah of Talkrir, who had engaged it to invade a peaceful neighbor state.

"Lord." Chanda appeared with chupattis, pickle-garnished rice and milk. "It is good to eat before battle."

"True, Lotus Bud." He ate ravenously. "Now, remember to keep your palki-gharry well back till I send word the fight's won."

"I'm the daughter of warriors," she reminded gently. "Let me follow slowly, that I may be ready should my lord suffer wounds."

Having no memory of a time long ago, when another woman had waited in a coach lest her man be hurt, he didn't refuse her.

A scout rode out of the jungle—the gossein at the Suraya Temple last year. Dismounting, he salaamed. "Lord, Bajaji sends word all's well. The fort's held by scarce two hundred, and they but a rabble." Though still filth-caked, he now held himself erect, and from his saddlebow hung a tulwar, a shield and a helmet.

Ram made his signal, and his men mounted and advanced behind him and the gossein guide. It was quite dark when they reached the west-running road, but soon the moon rose. The only sounds were the creaking of leather and the shuffling hoof beats, all metal on man and beast having been carefully wrapped in rags.

The road climbed, hills closing in on either side. Ahead lay the fort-dominated hill. Anxiety dried Ram's mouth.

Baja appeared from the shadows. "All must keep silent from here on, though the fools sleep like gorged jackals. Follow."

He led forward stealthily until all were safely through the pass.

"Ho, Uzoor Singh," Ram called softly. At once the Sikh and his troop followed him and Baja off the road to the left and mounted the gentle slope toward the fort. Khafi Khan's men turned right to wait under a low ridge.

Baja halted in a shallow nullah. "Leave the horses here."

Every fifth man took over the mounts of four of his fellows, to hold them under cover until needed. Ram's syce took Chota.

With Ram, Baja and Uzoor Singh in the center, the dismounted men then advanced farther up the slope toward the moon-silhouetted fort, until Baja whispered "Enough," when all dropped prone.

Already two of Baja's scouts were guiding the manhandled guns into position, which had been marked out beforehand by white stones and white-painted stakes. All was now ready.

With nothing to do now but await the dawn, Ram began to fret. What had he forgotten? Would some blunderer alarm the garrison? His heart raced when he saw a spluttering torch move on the battle-mented walls, until he realized it was some sentinel being relieved.

An hour passed, two. A jackal howled. Then another sound, coming from the direction of the pass; the clank of metal on metal.

"Dadaji's men are coming too soon!" he whispered angrily to Baja. "The accursed fools may spoil everything."

"The gossein is back there to halt them," Baja returned. "Arre, the sounds have ceased. All's well."

Ram relaxed. Soon his eyes closed—just for an instant.

A touch aroused him. It was almost dawn.

"You slept," Baja told him. "Is it time yet?"

Ram studied the ground ahead, judged that the troopers were close enough for their muskets to sweep the walls and the guns to command the gates. A little more daylight and it would be time.

Brassy sound shattered the air. The alarm? No, only a sentinel blowing a great horn to arouse sleepers to the new day. The massive teak-wood gates swung inward, revealing an archway and a courtyard beyond. Ram turned to Jakes, crouched by one gun.

Three of the garrison came out, stretching sleepily. He felt swift compassion; as swiftly, he stifled it. This was war.

He nodded.

The gun belched. Magically, the three luckless ones vanished, torn to shreds by case shot. The musketeers began picking off the sentinels on the battlements and the second gun was fired.

"Advance!" Ram waved the dragoons forward, Uzoor Singh in the lead. The gun teams and troop horses were being brought up. Not a shot came from the fort; the surprise was complete. Yells arose as the attackers swarmed through the gateway.

The syce brought Chota. Ram sprang into the saddle and raced gateward, passed under the archway and into the courtyard. Bodies sprawled everywhere, and on the left the dragoons were shooting through the windows of a long mud building, from which only a few return shots came.

"Lord!" Uzoor Singh called. "One ball for the door!"

"Here it comes." Pivoting Chota as the first gun-team galloped up. Ram gave Jakes the target.

The piece was unhitched, loaded, aimed. When the door was blown in, Uzoor Singh led his half-maddened men within. Screams, moans and pleas ensued. The Sikh reappeared, his blade reddened. "Wah, it was pretty work, and only three trifling hurts among us!"

"Leave four men to hand over to the rajah's brave people, the rest follow me." Ram was impatient to get away.

They regained the road, where Khafi Khan's troop already was mounted, with Baja and the scouts and Chanda's palki-gharry. Dadaji Rao, his elephants and his mob straggled up. Ram reported that the fort was now his, so he sent a swarm of followers charging up the slope, waving spears and clashing swords on shields.

"On to Ahmedpur!" Ram bawled. A roar of "Kai jail" answered him as he ordered the trot. Soon the road gave into a wide, well-watered plain and forked at a village, one branch continuing westward toward a second fort and the hills beyond, the other turning north to Ahmedpur itself. Ram checked to let Khafi Khan draw abreast. "Only open fields from here on. Will they see us?"

The Pathan's deep-set eyes scanned the intervening country. "Allah's curses if the gate guard is alert so early."

They clattered through the village, scattering its startled people, and took the north branch. The town was barely three miles away, and already the squadron was overtaking country carts loaded with produce, their drivers gaping at sight of these swift warriors.

"Canter!" Ram was heady with excitement. Can't spare horseflesh now!

The south gate showed white in the early sunlight, both leaves wide open, a string of carts entering. Ram laughed. They were unwitting allies, those carts, unless the guards acted swiftly. Even as he watched, there was confusion, with drivers turning their vehicles around, A horn blared raucously.

"Charge!" Ram gave Chota full rein.

The gate was ahead, one cart stalled under the archway ... It was being backed, men shoving and hauling . . . The horn blared again . . . Tire cart was almost clear . . . One leaf began to close.

"Faster, faster!" Saber out, reins held between his teeth, he drew a pistol. The other leaf was closing! He flashed past the cart, sending men sprawling, and rode at the narrowing gap. Wrenching Chota sideways, he scraped through and burst among the guards.

There came a great crash and the right leaf swung back inward. A horse fell, spraddle-legged in the opening, throwing its rider, Khafi Khan. The Pathan had deliberately killed it by riding head-on against the leaf. His troop swarmed past him, tulwars swinging.

A musket butt smashed on Ram's left leg, numbing it; he cut down

the blow giver. Then all was over, with the surviving guards fleeing, howling, along a narrow, shop-fringed street.

"Khan Subahdar, make good the other gates!" Ram panted and cursed because Chota was badly lame. "Uzoor Singh Subahdar, leave a guide for the guns, then follow me to the palace."

While the Pathan, riding double, swept through the town toward the west and north gates, Ram led the Sikh's troop down the street and into a wide market place, beyond which stood the walled palace. Soldiers milled confusedly in its gateway.

"Bhowani smiles on us," Uzoor Singh grinned delightedly. He stood in his stirrups. "Charge, brothers! Hamla karol"

With Chota too lame to keep the pace, Ram had to watch them sweep past him, ride down the bewildered guards and enter the courtyard. By the time he reached it himself, they were racing into the palace, leaving a knot of howling prisoners in charge of one of their number.

As he dismounted, his left leg buckled. "Damme, I'm as useless as Chota!" he groaned. He limped toward the main entrance, just as Baja arrived with his weird-looking scouts. But none was more weird than he, riding a skeleton-like tattoo, with straw ropes for stirrups and wearing only his turban and a loin dhoti.

"Tlie treasury, have they found it?" he hailed, steering his animal toward a building on the left. "No, by the sacred cow, it's safe! The key, by Siva, we must find it swiftly!"

"We can blow in the door when Jakes comes," Ram told him.

"Arre, that one has greedy eyes," Baja scowled. "Let him loot the palace and frighten women."

The battery was already arriving. Ram hobbled over to Jakes. "One gun to command the square. Leave the other in reserve here."

"Where's the loot?" the seaman demanded. His eyes were greedy.

"Enough for all." Ram indicated the palace, whence came odd shots, yells, a few screams. Whooping, Jakes quickly placed the six-pounders, then raced his spare cannoneers up the broad steps and inside.

Ram signaled Baja and his crew over. In a trice they dragged the reserve gun to the treasury. Ram himself loaded and fired the piece. When the smoke cleared, the door was splintered.