Land of Hope and Glory (42 page)

Soldiers ran in every direction. Sergeants shouted contradictory orders. The blasts continued, increasing in frequency. The sky was still dark and smothered by grey continents of cloud, but distant, orange flashes lit up the roofs and gables. Patches of St Paul’s spire appeared and disappeared, gleaming like lizard skin. Hundreds of church bells sounded the alarm.

The men of the 9th Native Infantry were running in the direction of the Bishops Gate, but Jack paused. He wasn’t going to defend the wall, he was going to find William.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Charles asked.

Jack glanced at Charles and Saleem. They were both staring at him as if awaiting orders.

‘You two go with the others,’ Jack said. ‘I’m going to join my friend. I’m going to fight with him.’

Charles frowned. ‘But we’ve been assigned to the Bishops Gate.’

‘I know. But I . . . I decided this with my friend the other day.’

‘Then we’ll come with you,’ Saleem said.

Charles shot Saleem a look of surprise, but then seemed to think about it further. ‘Yes. We’ll fight with you. We’ve come this far together.’

Jack tightened his fists. The young idiots. Why couldn’t they have stayed home in their village? Why had they been so stupid as to come to London? But he felt guilty. Hadn’t he helped them get here? And more than that, he couldn’t bring himself to let them down, couldn’t break the pretence that the Rajthanans could be beaten, that London could be saved, that he was a proud patriot rather than a craven turncoat.

A strange howling split the sky. Looking up, they saw a bulb of blue flame arc above the roofs, rise into the turbulent cloud and then plummet down like a comet. The howling grew louder as the ball raced towards them.

Sattva-fire.

Saleem ducked, although there was no need. The fireball roared overhead and slammed into a building a street away. The cobbles jolted beneath their feet and Jack caught a whiff of sattva. Sparks and flames leapt into the night.

Saleem licked his lips.

Jack knew there was no time to lose. ‘All right. You can come with me.’

They ran down the street towards the Ald Gate, the only place Jack could think to go. He’d seen William there often over the past few days and he assumed this was where he would find him now.

The roads were busy but not densely packed. Figures darted here and there – soldiers carrying muskets, city guards, peasants with ageing weapons. Those who weren’t going to fight, but who’d been unwilling or unable to leave the city, watched from windows. Women and children, infants and old people stared out at the gathering chaos.

Fireballs sailed overhead, crying eerily. Fires sprang up throughout the city. In the distance, flashes of gunfire lit the sky like copper lightning.

As they turned down a street, a fireball moaned and throbbed above them, close enough for Jack to smell the sattva. It thumped into the front wall of a terraced house and spewed flame and lumps of daub across the street. A chunk of burning wood skittered along the ground towards them. Blue sattva-fire snarled and popped as it ran between the cobbles.

Jack skidded to a halt. His wound nipped.

The remains of the smashed house lay burning and sizzling before them. There was no way through.

City guards came running from a side street. They jabbed hooked poles into the buildings near to the fire, trying to pull them down before the flames spread. Pieces of wall came free like cake and the buildings tottered and leant forward.

Jack turned to Charles and Saleem. ‘Go back.’

They retreated and followed a different route through the city. As the wall drew closer, the churning of the guns grew louder. Steel dawn spread from one corner of the sky and Jack realised that up until now he hadn’t even wondered what the time was. He heard Elizabeth’s voice, lost on the wind. He tried to run faster, but his legs burnt and his breath was short and he couldn’t will himself to go any faster.

He heard a whistle. A round shot, barely visible in the dark, plunged from the sky and smacked a hole in a wall ahead of him. Dust puffed out, but the wall stayed standing.

He charged through the dust, Charles and Saleem close behind. More whistles. A round shot lopped off a chimney. Another hissed through a thatched roof.

He turned a corner and came out suddenly into a square. The dark bulk of the Ald Gate and the wall rose before him. Guns flared along the ramparts, lighting up the battlements and tinging the clouds above orange. The forge-like pounding echoed up the streets. Figures flitted along the wall and soldiers ran about the square.

Someone shouted, ‘Look out!’

A round shot hit the ground nearby with a metallic chime and bounced towards them at great speed.

‘Move.’ Jack wrenched Charles and Saleem back.

The ball hummed past and slammed into a fountain, where it hissed and steamed. Men rushed over to retrieve the shot – ammunition was precious and could be reused any number of times.

More balls swarmed over the wall, dark against the flickering sky. They battered through doors, crushed carts, plucked men off their feet.

A glinting shell swooped down and smashed through the roof of a nearby house. The building’s top storey roared and burst into dust and splinters. A window shutter clattered across the flagstones.

‘Where’s your friend?’ Charles shouted.

Jack looked along the ramparts. It was too dark to make anyone out. How was he supposed to find William in the dim light and confusion?

‘We have to get up on the battlements,’ Jack said. That was the last place he wanted to be, but it was the only place he imagined he would find William – in the thick of it, leading his men. He didn’t know what he was going to do with Charles and Saleem. Eventually he would have to lose them – but how? The best thing for them to do would be to hide and then get out of the city as soon as they could, but he knew neither of them would agree to that.

They ran across the square to a stairway on the side of the wall. They scrambled up the steps behind a pair of gunners hauling a box of powder. Jack looked around constantly, but couldn’t see William or any of the other rebels from Dorsetshire.

They reached the walkway along the top of the wall and stopped abruptly. All about them men laboured over the artillery, sweating as they sponged out the pieces, rammed home charges, lifted and loaded the heavy balls. Sergeants roared commands. The guns bucked and rocked, the serpent-head muzzles growling, flaming and belching white smoke. The sound slapped Jack in the chest. The intricate designs along the weapons’ bodies blazed alive repeatedly, then darkened. Smoke, smelling of fireworks and rot, choked the ramparts and scratched at the back of his throat.

They looked over the parapet and Saleem drew in his breath sharply. Before them was an infernal scene. The plains below were dark, but peppered by thousands of fires. The enemy encampment glimmered more than a mile away. But closer, the blasts of artillery rippled in rows. The air between the wall and the plains was thick with wailing shot. Shells rose and fell like shooting stars.

Sattva-fire balls vaulted far above. But Jack noticed the Sikhs mounting a defence from atop the bastions of the Ald Gate. The men stood in groups, raising their hands to the sky, light dancing on their orange uniforms. Pink mist formed above each group, then condensed into red, flaming bolts that shot away from the wall. The bolts screamed into the dark, dipping and rising and weaving like flies. Each struck a fireball with a thump and a crack. Fireballs shattered into galaxies. Others roared and spun to the earth, smearing the ground with flame. Many were destroyed, but many more streaked on towards the city.

Charles stared up at the Sikhs. ‘Black magic. At least they’re on our side.’

Jack assumed Kanvar was up there somewhere, but he couldn’t make out the young siddha from this distance.

‘Take cover,’ a gunner shouted.

Jack heard a sharp whine and pulled Charles and Saleem down below the parapet. They waited for what seemed a long time but in reality could only have been a second. The wall shuddered. The battlements a few feet away burst into dust and shards of rock. There was a deep reverberation like a gong underground. The nearest gun spun round, almost falling over the edge and down to the street, the muzzle smacked sideways as if made of butter. Men lay screaming and struggling, half buried by rubble. Part of the top section of the wall had been smashed, leaving a fissure ten feet deep across the walkway.

Men fought frantically to free their trapped comrades.

Jack, Charles and Saleem stood up. The fissure lay between them and the wounded men. Charles went to the edge, but Jack pulled him back. ‘Leave it. We can’t get across that.’ The rubble at the bottom of the crack looked unstable. Trails of dust and small stones were trickling down to the street.

A tall man came striding along the walkway on the opposite side of the fissure. His shaven head was lit by the flashes of the guns and the scimitar at his side glowed. It was William, barking orders and waving for more men to come to help the wounded gunners.

Jack’s heart thudded. This was it – his chance. But William was on the other side of the fissure and surrounded by men.

He stepped back behind Charles and Saleem, turned his face away.

‘What’s wrong?’ Charles asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of the way. Can’t see my friend yet.’

He led them along the wall, past the teams of soldiers and thundering guns. He had to get far enough away to avoid William spotting him. At the same time, he couldn’t go too far. He had to be ready to act the moment he saw William alone. But would he get a chance like that? Surely he should go down to the street and climb the wall further along, run at William, shoot him? No, that wouldn’t work. The other men would turn on him for killing their leader. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

A shell exploded nearby with a piercing shriek. The air in front of him split open with flame and smoke, and hot, sulphur-scented wind struck him in the face. Shards of metal and musket balls screamed in all directions. A large shell-fragment roared past so close he could feel the heat of it.

He slammed himself to the floor, below the line of fire. Charles and Saleem rattled down beside him.

‘Are you all right?’ he called to them.

‘Yes,’ they both replied.

‘Keep your heads down, lads.’ A corporal crouched against the ramparts nearby. Along from him sheltered an infantry platoon. ‘That fire’s getting bloody hot.’

‘Aye.’ Jack clambered over to the fire step at the base of the parapet. He looked back and saw William in the distance, towering over the other men.

‘What now?’ Charles shouted.

‘We’ll stop here,’ Jack replied. There was nothing more he could do at that moment. An opportunity would have to come along eventually. Provided he could stay alive long enough.

‘What about your friend?’ Charles asked.

‘Can’t see him. Who knows?’

The corporal turned, peered gingerly over the top of the wall, then slipped back down again. ‘They’re bringing up the heavies. Just been softening us up with the light guns so far.’

As if to prove his point a deep rumble reverberated across the plains below. Seconds later, the wall shivered and groaned. About a hundred yards away, the top of the ramparts shattered, and dust and fragments of stone jetted into the dark-grey sky. Soldiers cried out as they tumbled to the street below.

‘Why don’t they come and fight us face to face?’ Charles said. ‘Then we’ll show them.’

The corporal gave a rasping laugh. ‘Reckon they’ll smack us around with the guns a bit more first, son.’ His smile drained away and he flicked a look at the sky. ‘Then they’ll send magic to knock through the wall.’

Charles frowned for a moment, then gave a tight grin. ‘But we have the Grail. It will come.’

The corporal wiped his forehead. ‘Hope it does that soon, son.’

Jack sat with his back to the battlements. The Grail. Did Charles think it would appear at the last moment to save them? Like in the stories?

He gazed across the city as the grey dawn spilt over the roofs and steeples. The sky hurled down squalls of hot metal. Fireballs tumbled to the ground, releasing pulses of flame. Fires seethed everywhere.

Nothing was going to save them.

The Rajthanan guns slackened a little after a few minutes. Jack stood on the fire step and eased his head above the parapet. Charles and Saleem raised themselves beside him.

In the growing light, the fields were more clearly visible, pale beneath a sky thick with black cloud. The ground boiled and smoked and shot up fountains of soil. The enemy artillery sparked from behind rough earthworks and fascines. Other batteries had been set up amongst the buildings outside the city, their muzzles blazing from between the walls of farm cottages. The army swarmed in the distance.

Jack could just make out the quivering purple of the siddha tents.

Round shot bit into the wall, puffing out dust and grit and sending shockwaves through the stone. Spent balls bounced back and rolled on to the plains. Overhead, wisps of smoke from the shells dotted the sky.

Jack saw that William still walked along the wall on the other side of the fissure, shouting and gesturing fiercely with his hands. Jack wondered how much longer he should wait. He only had the rest of the day to get William out of the city. After that it would be too late.

He heard Elizabeth’s voice again, crying out in the dark forest.

A gust of cold wind hit him in the face and lifted his hair in a plume behind him. There was a rushing sound, loud enough to be heard over the guns.

‘What’s that noise?’ Saleem asked.

‘Don’t know,’ Jack replied.

‘I can smell something sweet,’ Charles said.

Jack nodded. He could already smell it – sattva.

The wind grew stronger and his eyes watered. A dark cloud rose from somewhere behind the siddha tents and hung, swirling, in the air.

‘What the Devil . . . ?’ Charles said.

Jack felt cold.

The cloud moved forward, at first slowly, but then increasing in speed until it was hurtling towards them. It splintered into specks that looked like a mass of flies.