The Strangler Vine (32 page)

‘It is all so dirty,’ I said bitterly, ‘so rotten. I keep asking myself, should I resign my commission? I do not know what to do.’

‘The Company is a vast creature of many heads and many arms. It is not all rotten, at least I am not sure it is.’

‘But you don’t believe in it.’

‘I am a dangerous radical.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘I believe it is a mechanism for the domination of one people by another for the latter’s enrichment. And I have no answer as to what should take its place.’

‘I cannot see it so baldly as that.’ I did not want to argue. There was one more subject I had resisted raising.

‘And what about Mir Aziz? Was he a Thug? How could he be if he was a Mahommedan?’

Blake was silent for a while. ‘There has always been more mixing between Mahommedans and Hindoos than the Company likes to admit. Especially among dacoits. Lots of Mahommedan Thugs in Sleeman’s books. Another inconsistency in his Hindoo romance.’ He coughed a little. ‘The Company employed Thugs before. Feringhea ran Ochterlony’s secret department. Course, the Company didn’t know who he was. Perhaps Buchanan needed a Thug. Remember what Feringhea said? “Let the government pay me and I will do its work”?’ Then he shook his head. ‘But I don’t think Mir Aziz was a Thug. He was a very effective agent and sometime assassin.’

His eyes closed.

‘I must sleep now.’

The Governor General’s tent was not one tent but four, each one lined up against the next to make a square, each connected to the others by passageways. Around them, like a rippling scarlet fence, was a curtain of red cloth some nine feet high. Beyond the red curtain there was tethered a great menagerie of animals: an honour guard of camels and their riders, two elephants, cages of
chickens, sheep and so forth. Then there were the palanquins, the horses, the servants, the Governor General’s advisers and secretaries and their households. Further on there was a whole field of baggage camels, an endless train of bullock carts, and more elephants. And that was but one small part of the cavalcade and its dependents and supporters. I had been told there were 12,000 people in the procession, and as many animals, if not more. My head hurt even to think of it.

As we made our way from our rooms to the enclosure – I on my two feet, Blake in a sedan chair carried by four bearers, for he was not strong enough to walk – those we passed stared at us and mumbled to each other. It was a relief to pass through the red curtain and then into one of the four tents, which was itself divided by a long white muslin curtain. In this anteroom we were kept waiting for some time. From the other side of the curtain one could hear the muffled sounds of voices engaged in discussion. Blake was very quiet. I hoped he was gathering his thoughts, but I worried that he might simply be struggling to remain upright. He had refused to take the opium I had had Sameer find for him, and I knew better than to ask how he was. At last there appeared a bland-faced civilian who looked so completely as one expected a respectable Company civilian to, he might have been pressed from a mould. He spoke in a low, confidential voice as if he were generously imparting a very great secret.

‘Lord Auckland will see you now.’

I elbowed my way through the curtains, and Blake was borne aloft by the bearers. We came into a large enclosed space in which the light had taken on the yellowed tone of the tent’s canvas. There were several high-backed, wooden, upholstered chairs, a number of small occasional tables, and a beautifully carved, polished-wood desk on which there was a metal box and a silver tray. The many servants and bearers began to leave the tent through the opposite curtain.

Behind the desk stood Lord Auckland, the Governor General. I had never been introduced to anyone of such elevated status before, and I was tongue-tied. At first sight he seemed very long
and thin and elegant and easily confident in the way of his class. His expression was quite benevolent. Standing behind him was the small, plump, moustachioed man to whom I had delivered Mountstuart’s report, and at a little distance in a large cane chair was another large, generously stomached and well-chinned man, who remained seated. I found his face familiar, but I could not place it. I looked to Blake. He took in the other man’s presence but said nothing, and something in that nothing convinced me he knew him.

‘Welcome, gentlemen,’ said the Governor General. ‘The last companions and rescuers of the great Poet Laureate of the subcontinent! What a great loss both for poetry and for India herself!’ His voice was unexpectedly high and husky.

‘Mr Blake,’ he went on, ‘I hope your wound is not troubling you too much?’

Blake first inclined his head, then shook it, and said nothing. His silence entirely confounded the Governor General, who looked quite nonplussed for a moment. The former’s inscrutability was so in character I had to suppress a smile.

‘And you must be young Lieutenant Avery, who saved the Rao of Doora from a tiger! With one shot you transformed our relations with Doora. Well done! Remarkable story, young man. Quite marvellous! We are exceedingly pleased. I am certain garlands and accolades await. I know my sisters are very keen to make your acquaintance. Gentlemen, you are about to be the toast of India.’

‘A lucky shot, Your Excellency,’ I stuttered.

Lord Auckland looked down at the small man with the spectacles as if in need of prompting.

‘The Governor General is delighted to make your acquaintance, but is rather short of time,’ said the small man.

‘My Political Secretary, Sir William Macnaghten,’ said the Governor General.

In his chair, Blake sat up and took a breath. There was no disguising that he was far from strong, but he managed to speak with more force than I had expected.

‘Then I’ll be as brief as I can, Your Excellency,’ he said. ‘You may have heard by now something of our story, but so as to scotch any myths or fabrications: Xavier Mountstuart was murdered ten miles from Mirzapore, not by a band of dacoits – or even as I’ve already heard it said, by Thugs – but by a Company magistrate, Mr Edward Hogwood, on the direct orders of the Chief Military Secretary and head of the secret section of the Secret and Political Department, Colonel—’

Sir William Macnaghten noisily cleared his throat; the Governor General twitched slightly and stared at his hands.

‘Buchanan.’ Blake spoke fast and urgently. ‘The Colonel sent Lieutenant Avery and me to find Xavier Mountstuart in the full expectation that we too should not return—’

‘Mr Blake, these are very, very serious accusations,’ said Sir William Macnaghten.

‘I know that only too well, sir. I do not make them lightly. The object of the exercise was to prevent Mountstuart from delivering to you and to the Board of Control in London this report, which proves that Thuggee is not what Major William Sleeman claims it to be, that the Thuggee Department has dangerously overreached itself, that hundreds of natives have been wrongfully sentenced and others have died in vast numbers in Territory gaols of disease and starvation.’

The Governor General had now turned his face to one side, as if he was trying to put himself as far from Blake as possible.

‘I think, Mr Blake, the Governor General has heard as much—’

‘It was also to prevent the discovery of two further crimes,’ Blake went on, ignoring Macnaghten and speaking almost feverishly fast. ‘Firstly, that at least one other murder has been committed in order to maintain the fiction and avoid exposure, and secondly, that Buchanan has sought to exploit the supposed threat of Thuggee in order to justify the deposition of at least one independent native ruler, the Rao of Doora, and has in addition fed funds to the Rao’s rivals in order to—’

‘Mr Blake, enough!’ said Sir William, quite angry. ‘May we pause for a moment?’

‘Let me add that I have come to believe that Major Sleeman was not a witting part of this, but Buchanan and his agent Hogwood were. I also accuse Buchanan of conspiring to murder Lieutenant Avery’s friend Frank Macpherson, who I suspect found out the true purpose of our journey.’

The Governor General pursed his lips. Sir William looked furious.

‘This is very shocking. I can hardly believe it,’ said the Governor General in his high, husky voice. His neck, I saw, was especially long and swaddled in a white cravat which gave him a slight air of being an invalid. At the same time there was something boyish and undefined about his face – disconcerting in a man of fifty-odd. He had large, soft eyes, soft, flat schoolboy hair, and his skin was pale and lined as if he had not been enough outside. It was lent a particularly unhealthy hue by the strange colour of the room.

‘Sir William may recall that some years ago he had reason to read my reports. He knows that I am not given to exaggeration,’ said Blake.

‘Very serious, very unpleasant accusations,’ the Governor General went on. ‘They will take some time to digest.’ He clasped one pale hand over another and looked up at his Political Secretary.

‘They are more than accusations, Your Excellency,’ said Blake. ‘The evidence is in Mountstuart’s report, collected at the behest of your colleagues on the Board of Control in London, and must surely now be acted upon.’

Both men looked up sharply. ‘I hope you are not presuming to tell the Governor General his business?’ said Sir William.

‘No. Not at all,’ said Blake, looking back and forth between the two. His mouth tightened.

‘Your Excellency, Sir William,’ I said nervously, ‘I can personally attest that everything Mr Blake says is true. More than that, you should know that Mr Blake’s own investigations confirmed all that Mr Mountstuart writes, that he it was who discovered Mr Mountstuart’s whereabouts, masterminded our escape, ensured our survival in the wilderness, kept our spirits aloft when all about seemed lost. I owe him my life several times over.’

Sir William gave me a look in which it was clear that he did not
think I had helped. ‘I think the Governor General has heard everything he should,’ he said. Lord Auckland stood up. The exercise seemed to require considerable exertion.

‘Mr Blake, Mr Avery,’ he said absently, as if his mind was only half upon us, ‘you have performed great exploits, you have made great efforts. You have done remarkable work. Britain will be proud. The Company wishes to reward you. I have, I am afraid, a great number of other things to deal with. We are many days behind our planned advance into the north. I have full confidence in Sir William, he will pursue any further matters pertaining to these, er, these, er … I wish you both well. Brave deeds, brave deeds, indeed. By the way, gentlemen, did you know we have a new monarch? King William passed away in June. Young Victoria is Queen.’

Sir William fixed his eye upon us, and I bowed low – as custom demanded – as if to some native potentate. Blake coughed and sank into his chest, to avoid, I suspected, having to make an obeisance. The Political Secretary clapped his hands, and a small procession of bearers and servants appeared from behind the curtain to conduct the Governor General to his next assignation.

When the Governor General was safely out of the tent Sir William said, ‘Mr Avery, pray be seated. You must understand that the Governor General cannot be expected to hear the details of such things.’

‘I am sorry,’ Blake said, falling back into the chair, ‘I do not understand.’ His face was very pale, and damp with perspiration.

‘I think you understand very well. This is a most sensitive subject. If the Governor General were in any way associated with it …’

Blake summoned himself again. ‘But he has been here barely a year. None of the opprobrium need attach to him. Sir William, the Thuggee Department is a mechanism that has gone criminally wrong. It must be closed down – this is why the Board in London sent for Mountstuart. He was led to believe the Governor General would be primed for his report. Colonel Buchanan must be—’

‘Must? Must? Are you suggesting we shirk our responsibilities, Mr Blake? Are you questioning my rectitude? You are right on the threshold of insubordination. As I recall you have been there before
and with disastrous consequences. The matter will be dealt with. Your efforts will be rewarded. But you must be discreet. Let me be as clear about this as I can be.’

From inside the pocket of his black frock-coat, Sir William drew out a sheaf of papers: a bent and creased envelope spattered with brown spots, and a cleaner leaf with notes upon it. Mountstuart’s report and my notes on Blake’s explanation. He placed them on the silver tray. From the metal box he took a phosphorous match and a small vial. He poured the contents of the latter over the papers and struck the former against the side of the box. An alarming burst of orange fire shot from it. He picked up the papers by one edge and placed the other side in the flame. They took immediately.

‘No!’ I was up before I realized. Sir William gave me a nasty, fish-eyed look and dropped the papers on to the tray, where they proceeded to burn in a lively manner. I felt cold and sick. Blake sat entirely still. He looked at the envelope burning, then up at Sir William, and fixed him that slow, hard look of his. Macnaghten looked away.

‘All right. I shall be plain,’ he said stiffly. ‘Lieutenant Avery, may I suggest you sit down? Gentlemen, the Company requires this.’

He waited, as if expecting some response. Neither of us spoke.

‘Have you any idea how many Europeans there are in India?’

I shook my head. Blake stared straight ahead.

‘A few thousand. And how many of them? Countless, swarming, teeming millions. A few thousand Company men govern millions, bringing order, peace and prosperity where there was chaos, war and unrest. It is a feat of great and precarious balance; it requires unity, and sometimes an occasional necessary myth.’

‘You are saying that the Thugs are a necessary myth?’ I said.

‘Even if not everyone he arrested was strictly a Thug, Major Sleeman has made the roads of India safe. The campaign against Thuggee shows the natives we have the determination, and, yes, the ruthlessness, to destroy a murderous caste thousands of years old, an immutable evil woven into the very fabric of this country. It shows that the Company cares for their welfare. It shows that we
are fitter to rule than the selfish native princeling fawning over his favourites and counting his jewels. Sleeman has given the Company an extraordinary triumph. Would you take this away from us? India must have order; without it there is chaos and we are all – European and native – at risk.’