The Strangler Vine (33 page)

‘But the roads aren’t safe,’ said Blake. ‘Hundreds of innocent men have been killed to prove that Hind is degenerate and we should rule it. Sleeman has propagated a lie. It’s an imaginary enemy, a false panic, and such things have consequences. It has reinforced every prejudice Europeans hold against the Hindoos. It makes it ever easier for Europeans to view them with disgust and misunderstanding, to deride and dismiss their customs and habits and to trumpet the superiority of their own. And it provides the Company with an easy and dishonest justification for marching into any independent state you wish.’

‘Your passion for the natives,’ said Macnaghten, ‘is both touching and misplaced. Do not be a fool, Mr Blake. Consider the outcome you desire. Thuggee exposed as fiction? There would be uprisings, rebellion, mutiny. There is already unrest about the famine.’

‘Hardly improved by the 12,000 men the Governor General plans to lead through the heart of it.’

‘Think of it, millions turning on thousands, Mr Blake, women and children murdered. And do not imagine the natives would triumph. There would be such an outcry that even if the Company failed to subdue it, regiments from England would. Imagine the retribution. Thousands more dead. Think on it. The scandal in London, the careers destroyed and, perhaps, the destruction and disbanding of the Company itself. Is that what you seek?’

‘Don’t try to frighten me with your talk. The Company’s rotten. Maintaining this lie won’t save it,’ said Blake. ‘It doesn’t need me to bring about its destruction. The rebellion will come, the Company will fail.’

Macnaghten sighed and looked at Blake through his glasses as an exasperated schoolteacher looks at a recalcitrant pupil.

‘Dear me, Mr Blake, radical talk! You cannot truly believe India
would be better without the Company? We give it order and discipline, culture, reason, opportunity, faith, peace, stability. This country cannot rule itself. It needs us, and we are but a few. If we left the natives to themselves they would be at each other’s throats in minutes, to say nothing of ours. There is never a moment when there is not a raja terrorizing or oppressing his people, or being murdered by his family. The choice is simple: your silence ensures peace and order, and nothing is more important than that.’

‘I give it twenty years.’

‘Mr Blake!’

‘I understand,’ said Blake. ‘You want to be discreet. You can be discreet as you disband the Thuggee Department. Buchanan can be quietly dismissed and then prosecuted for murder.’

‘Mr Blake, you force me to be direct. There is no report on the Thuggee Department, there never was. We require – nay, we demand – silence on this from both of you. But we also recognize your considerable efforts and your abilities. India will recognize them. They will be rewarded. Lieutenant Avery, you were hoping for a cavalry regiment? That can be arranged. We will confirm your lieutenancy in a regular company. There will be, I guarantee, good prospects for promotion, though you should perhaps have some actual experience. We are likely to see action before long near the Afghan border. That may interest you. You could also, if you wished, transfer to the Political Department. You will have entrees into the Company’s highest circles; you have already as good as received an invitation from the Governor General’s sisters. Your career is made. And as for your debts, we can make arrangements. Is there anything else?’

‘Colonel Buchanan offered me passage back to England should we succeed,’ I mumbled. ‘And, sir, something else. My friend Macpherson met an untimely end. I cannot be sure what happened, but I believe his reputation has been unfairly traduced. I think the accusations against him are unfounded. My silence is dependent upon his reputation being restored.’

‘I see,’ said Sir William, disconcerted. ‘Well, I suppose we can
look into that. It seems you have some thinking to do about your future, Mr Avery.

‘Now, Mr Blake, what do you want? Name it. You are about to become a hero. There is a place for you here. You are a capable man. What about an Assistant Resident? Anywhere you like, where you can practise your languages and indulge the natives to your heart’s content.’

Blake said nothing. I wondered how much strength he had left.

‘Time was,’ Macnaghten continued, pushing his spectacles up his nose, ‘I seem to remember, all sorts of fine futures were predicted for you. Now is your chance to revive your fortunes. Do you want your captaincy? Naturally in return we expect no talk beyond this place of murders and plots and conspiracies within the Company. No doing down of Sleeman or the Thuggee Department.’

I could not see Blake accepting any of Macnaghten’s offers, but I also could not see how we could refuse.

‘How will you report Xavier’s death?’ said Blake.

‘A great Englishman cut down in his prime by marauding Thugs,’ said Macnaghten promptly. ‘A hero of the Empire. The two of you, his trusty supporters, fighting for your lives. There will be a great monument erected in Mirzapore. There will be poems, paintings, I am sure. His memory will not be disgraced.’

‘With Hogwood dying in a brave attempt to mount a rescue.’

‘Of course.’

Blake stared at Sir William. His eyes glittered. ‘I don’t like your methods. I find I can’t stomach your vision of this place any more either. I’ll take nothing from you.’

‘Take care, Mr Blake. Do not dig your own grave twice. You are still a member of the Company. We can give, and we can take away.’

In a wheezing flat whisper, ‘Don’t threaten me, you piece of filth.’

‘Jeremiah!’ I sighed.

Macnaghten uttered a kind of angry yelp. If he had been a fighting sort of a man, I think he would have launched himself upon Blake.

‘I told you!’ he said excitedly, for the first time looking back at the large man in the armchair who had sat so quietly that I had quite forgotten him. ‘I told you! He is quite beyond redemption. There is no point trying to reason with him. He has the manners of the gutter! Mr Blake! Let me tell you, you have single-handedly once again destroyed your future in the East India Company, and this time for good! I will have you court-martialled. I will have your household dispersed—’

‘Sir William, does it not seem to you that such threats might be just a tad excessive?’ said the large man, pushing himself up off his chair and strolling towards us. ‘Just at the moment Jeremiah Blake does not look as if he will live beyond next week. In which case, you will have nothing to fear. He is, however, a determined man, and quite likely to survive simply out of pure pig-headedness. And though I am certain he will dislike it inordinately, he is shortly to become quite famous, whether you like it or not. A court martial? I do not think you would want to have him make his accusations under questioning. Most inconvenient.’

‘I do not have the time for this,’ Sir William said.

‘My advice to you, Mr Blake,’ said the large man, ‘is to give up on it. It is a bad job. The Company will have your silence, one way or another.’ I studied his features, and was sure they were familiar: a long, soft, curving nose; a little, round, padded receding chin; little arched eyebrows and small brown eyes.

‘I don’t want your advice, Collinson,’ said Blake.

‘You should take it, however, Jem, and you may call me Sir Theo,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Macnaghten, you are quite right, you do not have time for this. Allow me to take the reins. I know Mr Blake of old, and I feel sure that I can find a way of overcoming his reservations.’ He gave Sir William a smile that would have seemed quite innocuous, save for the introduction of several pointed teeth. It gave him the look of a well-fed fox.

Sir William wanted to leave, but was uncertain whether he should.

‘You had better arrive at an agreement, for if you do not, the Company will have to take measures,’ he said pompously. ‘Good
day to you, Mr Avery. If I were you I should seriously review my association with this man.’ He nodded curtly, hurried to the tent’s curtained entrance and pushed his way through.

The large man settled into the chair behind the Governor General’s desk.

‘Lieutenant Avery, I am Sir Theophilus Collinson. Once upon a time Mr Blake worked for me.’

‘He was the Company’s finest fixer,’ said Blake. He grunted slightly as he shifted his weight in the chair. ‘A finger in every curry in Hind, we used to say. But I heard the Company had washed its hands of you, and you were bound for London.’

‘Oh, Blake, be pragmatic for once! You may find it hard to stomach, but Macnaghten is not wrong about the need to keep order. And your young friend agrees, I can see it.’

I looked away.

‘Moreover, Sir William and the Governor General have ambitions in the north, and no whisper of trouble will be permitted to get out, let alone reach London. Buchanan is on his way up country to negotiate with Runjeet Singh on Sir William’s behalf. They will not rid themselves of him, not just now, he is too useful, even if he does overreach himself. And just as you said, Thuggee is too powerful a myth. But I can tell you that next year Sleeman is to be moved from Jubbulpore to the north, to begin a new campaign against the Badhak dacoits.’

‘So they’re after Afghanistan, eh? So much for Macnaghten’s desire for peace. And the poor old Badhaks, they aren’t dacoits, just a tribe of gipsy wanderers, no better or worse than the rest.’

‘Really, Blake, your sympathy for the vagabond poor is quite exhausting. Now listen to me. If you try to bring this out, you will be treated as mad or dangerous. You might well find yourself court-martialled. Nor will they stint on your young friend here. You know how it works. Let it pass, let them reward you. Let yourself be valued as the man who found Mountstuart and kept their secrets. There are plenty who will admire you the more for it. I speak as someone who knows your worth, and someone who liked and admired Xavier, even as I saw his frailties.’

Blake would not acknowledge him. He seemed very pale to me. There was a long pause.

‘And as someone who regarded Xavier Mountstuart as a friend, I undertake to ensure, no I swear to you, that Patrick Buchanan will not live to see Ireland again. That he will pay for what he has done. You know I am good for it.’

Blake looked at him.

‘But I must have your word – and yours too, Mr Avery.’

‘Sir Theophilus,’ I said, ‘I would give you my word, but I have already told at least two people that Hogwood killed Mountstuart.’

‘The Company can have its way in most things, but a few unfortunate rumours – well, it must live with them. It deserves them. But you are not to speak of it again, or that promising career will be over.’

‘No, sir. And my friend Macpherson’s reputation?’

Collinson did not blink. ‘That can be arranged.’

‘You can have my silence, Collinson,’ said Blake. Sweat was streaming down his face, ‘in return for Buchanan, if I live. If I die in the next week, I’ve made arrangements, letters already sent to Calcutta.’

‘Then we shall have to make sure you live,’ said Sir Theophilus, displeased.

‘I don’t want anything from the Company,’ Blake said. ‘I’ve had my fill of it. I don’t know why you defend it. It was quick enough to spit you out when it no longer liked the taste of you.’

‘Ah well, Jeremiah, I am the realist, you are the idealist. I always liked you for it, that and your relentless curiosity. What I have never liked is your arrogant conviction of your own righteousness, your belief that your cleverness and your much-vaunted honesty make you a better man than the rest. In this world they merely make you a more dissatisfied one.’

Blake seemed to drift off for a moment, then he said, ‘You’re right. If I had not been so sure of myself I might have saved my friend’s life. Have my silence. And my commission. I resign everything. I won’t watch the Company choke the life out of all it touches. I’ll go back to England.’

‘I see now what this was,’ Sir Theophilus said musingly. ‘This was a test. One last chance for the Company to prove itself to you. Sir William calls you naive, and he is right. Times have changed, and they will not return to how they were. You may not like it – I will be frank, I do not like it much either – but there is nothing to be done. This latest escapade planned by Macnaghten in the north, let me tell you, will be a costly disaster. But no one wishes to hear my opinion on the matter. So I smile, note my objections and remove myself.

‘We are not so far apart in our opinions, Jeremiah Blake. Let us not pretend that the Company was ever a model of disinterestedness. Profit and advantage were always its motive. But you are right: it has changed and is changing. When I first came here, we recognized the qualities of this place. We admired its literature, its architecture, its music, the ingenuity of its peoples. I counted among my friends the finest native families of Calcutta, and I was glad to visit their homes. I fell in love with a lady from a noble family, and she bore me four sons. Now time has passed, the Company has grown in power and reach – and let us admit it, you and I played our parts in helping it to do so. At the same time it has become squeamish about those who were once its hosts and are now its subjects. It demands they speak English and it scorns to learn Hindoostanee. It always had a taste for land and territory, but now rapacity is dressed up as righteousness. A niggardliness and cruelty has crept into its dealings with natives. I do not believe this has been in the best interests of India, its people or us. But it has served the Company well. I find myself at odds with the men who rule at Government House; my sons are less and less welcome in European company unless they are willing to present themselves as subordinates. This, however, is what passes for Progress and there will be plenty more of it, both here and in England. I do not believe it can be stopped or prevented.

‘Now, should you live beyond the next few days, and there is a good likelihood you will not, it just so happens that I am returning to England in the new year. Some interesting offers have been made to me. Should you also decide to return, well, you have very particular talents, Blake, you should exploit them.’

‘I don’t want your help,’ Blake said.

‘Do not be a child, Blake,’ Sir Theophilus said. ‘There is no point in returning to England in order to be destitute. You will need to make a living; you will need a patron.’