Land of Hope and Glory (39 page)

The men laughed but the sound seemed high-pitched and thin, whisked away by the wind within seconds.

Jack heard horses on the cobbles below. Looking back, he saw two cavalrymen crossing the street to the gate, one carrying a white flag. The portcullis squealed up and the gates grumbled open.

The two riders clattered over the Fleet Bridge and followed the narrow road along the far bank. Within minutes they were beyond the line of buildings and into the open ground. They halted beside the Rajthanans and the six men remained there talking for ten minutes.

‘What’s going on?’ Charles asked.

‘Negotiations,’ Kendrick replied.

Less than two minutes later, the riders parted and the English came galloping back, rode into the city and dismounted in the square beyond the gate. The portcullis rattled down and the gates clanged shut.

‘There’ll be no truce,’ shouted a soldier who came running up the steps to the battlements.

Suddenly everyone along the wall was talking. The news flickered down the line and soon a man was saying to Jack and the others, ‘The Rajthanans said we have to lay down our arms and surrender completely. Sir Gawain’s rejected that, of course.’

‘So we’ll fight.’ Charles looked across the plains to the army already expanding to the north-east.

Barges appeared upstream and floated slowly down the turgid river. Some were pulled by teams of elephants that ambled along the bank, while a few had chimneys that belched smoke and were propelled by the avatar engines that churned within them.

The flotilla drew up at the Westminster quays, where the vessels were arranged in a line across the water and tied together. Wooden planks were laid over the decks to form a bridge-of-boats. Soon soldiers and followers were carrying huge sacks and crates across the bridge.

‘They’re surrounding the city,’ Jack said softly. The musket seemed to drag at his shoulder now and the knife was as cold as a new wound beneath his clothing.

They were surrounding the city. How would he get William out now? His task, already difficult, had just become much harder.

Kendrick nodded. ‘We’d better get back to our position. We need to make sure we’re prepared.’

‘They’re well out of range.’ The gunner shielded his eyes with his hand as he gazed across the plains to where the Rajthanan army was a sombre arc stretching west to east.

Kendrick stroked his goatee. The two men were standing beside a giant twenty-four-pounder gun on the battlements near to the Bishops Gate. The weapon’s muzzle was moulded into the form of a serpent’s head, with glaring eyes and grills of teeth.

Jack stood nearby, listening to the conversation as he watched the enemy make camp about a mile and a half away. As the day wore on, the army had fanned out in a huge oval and surrounded the city completely. Their shivering tents and standards were now visible in every direction.

Kendrick was inspecting his troops. The 9th had been assigned the area around the Bishops Gate, along with six batteries from the 2nd Native Heavy Artillery. The guns and mortars were dotted along the wall, most on wheeled field carriages but a few on block-shaped stands. Men stood to attention next to the weapons, pyramids of shot piled beside them.

A line of purple in the distance caught Jack’s eye. He tapped Kendrick on the shoulder. ‘Sir – siddhas.’

Kendrick lifted his glass and scanned the enemy. ‘Hmm. Quite a few.’ He handed the glass to Jack.

Off to the east, nearer to the Ald Gate, stood a collection of fifty purple tents and standards bearing the angular sigils of the siddhas. Jack had never seen a siddha encampment like it. He’d heard that in Rajthana the army had entire companies of siddhas, but in Europe you were lucky if you saw a single one on the battlefield.

A tent in the centre of the camp dwarfed the others. Standing three storeys high and hundreds of feet wide, it looked like a small palace. Windows, archways, pillars and cornices peppered its walls and it was topped by domes and spires flying brightly coloured flags. The walls and towers wavered in the breeze and here and there the canvas flapped open to reveal wooden

scaffolding beneath.

Jack handed back the glass. ‘That tent in the middle—’

‘I saw it,’ Kendrick said. ‘Must be the Mahasiddha’s.’

By now they’d heard who was leading the Rajthanan force – Mahasiddha Samarth Vadula, a siddha general known for his exploits in the New Colonies. Apparently the Mahasiddha had never lost a battle and his war avatars had decimated the Inca forces who’d opposed him.

‘Have to keep an eye on that lot.’ Jack nodded towards the siddha tents.

‘Nothing the Sikhs can’t handle, I’m sure,’ Kendrick replied. But he said it quickly, his voice clipped, before walking off to continue inspecting his troops.

Jack would have to do something soon. There were only five days left.

He removed Katelin’s necklace and gazed at the intricate markings knotted about the cross. More than three weeks ago he’d promised Katelin he would get Elizabeth back. So far, he’d got nowhere.

He was sitting in the empty room on the third floor, watching William’s billet. He’d been there most of the afternoon and evening, and now the light had faded and the lanterns had been lit along the street. But there was no sign of William. He wasn’t even sure if his friend was in the building.

He put the cross back around his neck.

The sound of voices rose from the tavern below. The men had been chanting patriotic songs earlier, but were now more subdued.

How long would it be before the Rajthanans attacked? He had no doubt they had the superior force, but perhaps they would wait, try to starve the city into submission. He knew how the generals would be thinking. They would want to weaken the enemy with an extended siege, but on the other hand they would be under pressure from their rajas to crush the mutiny as soon as possible.

Normally it would take days – even weeks – of bombardment to smash through a city’s walls. But rumours were circulating that the Mahasiddha had magic that could create a breach in a matter of hours. Jack could believe it – he’d heard officers talk about powers like that when he was in the army, although he’d never seen them used himself. At any rate, everyone in London was convinced that once the Rajthanan guns began firing, the main assault would soon follow.

He thought about the pardon, imagined it lying in the top drawer of Jhala’s desk, slowly ageing as the deadline approached. Elizabeth’s freedom was so close, the Raja of Poole’s signature already on the paper, and yet it was beyond his reach.

Damn Jhala.

He stood up and paced the floor, still glancing back at the building each time he passed the window. He picked up a loose piece of wood and hurled it against the wall, where it put a dent in the wattle and daub.

And William – how could he have been mad enough to join the doomed rebellion? Why couldn’t he just have waited out the last years before his retirement?

Even Elizabeth was to blame. She’d gone and got herself into trouble, all for no reason. He should have been more strict with her when she was growing up, should have kept more of an eye on her since Katelin died, should have gone to see her more often. Maybe then he could have stopped all of this from happening.

He sat down again and tried to concentrate on watching the house. He rubbed his eyes. Every muscle in his body seemed tight.

The street below emptied and the voices from the tavern grew quieter.

He couldn’t stop his mind jumping from memory to memory, and for some reason he recalled the time he and Elizabeth had come across a party of Rajthanans. They’d been walking home from the market when the people and carts in front of them had moved over to the side of the road. An elephant had appeared ahead. Some sort of dignitary sat hidden in the glittering howdah, while a cluster of Rajthanan guards and European servants marched along beside the beast.

Jack grasped Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her out of the way.

‘Where are we going?’ Elizabeth was seven at the time and had hardly seen any Rajthanans before.

‘Someone important needs to get past.’

‘Who?’

‘Just someone important.’

The way was now clear, except for an old man who stood leaning on a staff in the middle of the road.

‘Hey, get out of the way,’ someone in the crowd shouted.

Was the old man having trouble walking? Jack darted back into the road. ‘Do you need help?’

The old man lifted his chin. ‘I’m fine, thank you very much.’

‘You have to move.’

‘I’m fine where I am, young man.’

The boots of the Rajthanan guards crunched on the road.

Jack grabbed the old man’s arm, but the old man shook him off. ‘You leave me be.’

‘Move! Now!’ the leader of the guards shouted.

Jack backed away, unsure what else he could do. He stood beside Elizabeth and her small hand coiled into his.

The Rajthanan party came to a halt and the guards’ leader strode up to the old man. ‘Out of the way.’

The old man, still clinging to his staff, looked up at the guard. ‘Now why should I do that? I can’t walk too well. I reckon you should be getting out of
my
way.’

The guard’s eyes narrowed. ‘You will move immediately.’

The old man looked around him. ‘Don’t see why. Last I checked, this was my country. Don’t see why an Englishman should move out of the way for anybody in his own country.’

The guard nodded slowly, then bunched his hand into a fist and pummelled the old man in the face.

A gasp rippled through the crowd. The old man crumpled backwards and his staff clattered to the road.

The guard walked over and kicked the old man in the stomach.

Elizabeth’s hand tightened around Jack’s fingers. ‘Father—’

‘Come with me.’ He had to stop Elizabeth shouting something out, otherwise they might get into trouble themselves. He pulled her towards the back of the crowd. She tried to look over her shoulder at the road, but he turned her face away.

‘Father, that man—’

‘Keep going.’

‘They were beating him—’

‘Keep quiet.’

He dragged her into a field of carrots. They would have to walk across the countryside for a while and rejoin the road later.

He noticed that his face was hot and his heart was beating harder than usual. It was terrible to see an old man beaten like that, but the fool hadn’t moved out of the way. What did he expect? You couldn’t speak to your superiors like that and get away with it. You learnt that in the army from the first day you joined.

‘Why were they hitting that man?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘It’s just the way of things,’ Jack said.

‘But he was old.’

Jack stopped. ‘Elizabeth, you’re making me very angry now. You just be quiet and forget about it.’

He strode ahead and she stumbled on clods of earth as she tried to keep up. She said nothing for about five minutes and then burst into tears.

He bent down. He was feeling calmer now. ‘What’s wrong, little one?’

‘My feet are tired.’

‘All right, then. You can ride on my back.’

He turned, still squatting, and she clambered up and held on tight.

As he stood, he felt a trace of moisture from her tears on the back of his neck.

They’d never spoken about the incident again. He’d forgotten about it until now.

Maybe he should have done something to help the old man. But what? He couldn’t fight against so many Rajthanans.

And what did it matter anyway? Why was he wasting time thinking about these things?

It was nearly midnight. He was tired and hungry. There was nothing more he could do now – sitting and staring at the darkened building wasn’t achieving anything. If William were indoors he’d be unlikely to leave at this hour.

Feeling half in a dream, he lit the lantern left behind by the building’s owners and carried it down the dark stairs. On the ground floor, he put out the lantern again, then unbolted the door and stepped out into the covered walkway. Light escaped between the boards that formed the thin wall adjoining the tavern. Inside he could see around ten men, some drinking and talking, some inebriated and sitting with their heads lolling and eyes closed.