Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (30 page)

Chanda defiled by that whoreson! He began to shake. "The baby?"

"He hurt me," she whimpered. "After they'd dragged you off, he kicked me. I bled and the little thing came away, even before it had been formed in thy likeness."

He beat the ground in his rage. "Tonight? Who'll be with him tonight?"

"I, lord. Often I am ill of women's sickness since I lost the babe and he must let me rest. But tonight he orders my attendance."

"Tonight he'll die. My Heart, have you the strength to watch?"

"Often have I prayed for courage to kill him myself, but my spirit is broken." She spoke with a terrible intensity. "Before you blessed me by making me your slave, lord, I had been known by many men. Yet never did I feel unclean as now, since this white devil has taken me—he who should have been a trusted brother to you! Yes, I'll watch with joy. But beware! In his heart is fear and he keeps two loaded pistols beside his sleeping place."

He laughed then, fiercely, gladly. No pistols would stop him!

"I'll remove the flints," she said eagerly. "Kill him, lord, and then fly, for near by are the men he has trained to fire the guns."

He smiled up at her. With Jakes dead, the Ganesha would buy the cannoneers. "Now, go. Keep from him when I come, lest he again use you as a shield."

For a little she lingered, her fingers fluttering as if to caress his upturned face. Before she turned away a tiny splash had fallen upon the back of his hand—a tear. Slowly he raised it to his lips, tasting its saltiness until, in turn, it brought his own tears. Then he wormed his way back through the shrubbery until he could stand and walk to where he had hidden his weapons and food.

Tonight!

"Chanda, where the hell are ye?" Jakes took a long swig of arrack. "Go bring the others. I'm right randy tonight, I am." He was too drunk to realize he was speaking English. "God rot the barstard for breakin' out! Him tryin' to quarterdeck me, the bleeder! I'll—" He took another gulp. "Chanda!"

"Here, Great One." She came softly through the doorway.

"Where's Jumli? I want a bit o' fun tonight. You, blast yer choot, ye're like a bit o' codfish in bed these days. Where's Jumli?"

"She has her sickness, lord." She guessed rather than understood. "Does my lord desire some other girl?"

"Yes, the one Khafi Khan sent me." He used broken Hindustani now. "It's time she learned to please a man. You're no use alone any more."

"Does the Mighty One not recall he sent her back to Khafi Khan, saying she was as yet too young for his vigor?" Actually, she had sent the others away, not daring to risk another girl becoming terrified when her lord came to exact vengeance. She forced herself to approach the divan. "If it is your will. Great One, I the lowest of your slaves, promise new and strange pleasures to entertain you."

He scowled. "See they are or I'll flay the—" He dragged her down, pawing her brutishly. She cringed, her humiliation the greater because already Ram might be watching. But servants were still in the bungalow and the cannoneers would be awake in their nearby huts. She must play for time. She began variations of the love play she had been taught by the priests, her ears strained for the least external sounds. Had the servants gone yet? Was the sentinel snoring at his post? Great Siva, bring my lord soon! she implored.

"Now! Now!" His voice thick, he pulled her upon him. She moaned involuntarily as his hairy arms locked her fast.

"You unspeakable bastard." The voice was soft, almost pleasant.

"Huh?" He shoved her aside. She rolled to reach the pillow under which she had hidden a gold-hilted dagger, lest Kali were cruel and some mischance occur.

The English words at last penetrating his fuddled brain, he swore and grabbed the twin pistols from beside a nearby lamp.

"Anstruther!" He looked around wildly. "In hell's name where are ye, ye stinkin' son of a drab?"

"Here, Jakes." Ram came farther into the room, edging a little sideways to take advantage of the uncertain light.

"Gord strike me, where are ye?" Jakes sprang up, bewildered because, instead of the European he feared, here was only a gaunt, bearded native.

"I'm about to kill you!"

Snarling, the seaman triggered one pistol, but there came only the empty click. Chanda, crouching in a corner, thanked Vishnu for having given her opportunity earlier to disarm the weapons.

Damning the misfire, Jakes raised the other. When it too clicked uselessly, he roared and flung both at the motionless figure who carried pistols of his own. Now the ex-gunner cringed back, his nude, sweat-glistening body a perfect target in the lamplight. Slowly Ram's right pistol rose until it covered the cowering man's heart.

Thus far. Ram had been icy, but now remembrance of all this beast had done to him and Chanda twisted through his brain. With terrible deliberateness he lowered his muzzle until it pointed at the black hair between his enemy's thighs. He fired.

An inhuman howl, and the deserter fell, thrashing. "Christ! Ow Jesus Almighty save me! Keep off! . . . Don't 'urt me again!"

Slowly, slowly Ram approached this screeching Thing that was no longer a man. When he was within a yard, he raised his left pistol.

"Traitor!"

He waited until the rolling, jerking head had stopped and Jakes was staring up at him imploringly. Then he put a ball through his brain.

How different, he thought wryly as he rode under the gate's arch, from that dawn a week before when he had passed out of here, a naked starved gosseinl He glanced back at his troopers. Kick a bit of discipline into 'em again, and they'd be as soldierly as ever.

He spurred Battle, and the whole troop swept along the street, scattering people like frightened chickens. Then the market place.

"Bajaji won't come till we're ready," he reminded Uzoor Singh. "So make sure the prison party moves swiftly." He wriggled distastefully in his uniform. It still stank of Jakes.

Henchmen and supplicants crowded the courtsward. Riding through them. Ram dismounted at the wide marble steps, while Uzoor

Singh barked orders for men to guard the gates, the palace and the treasury. Others trotted toward the prison. Ram kept his face hidden behind Battle's flank, lest someone see he wasn't Jakes.

Baja arrived. He wore a pearl-decorated turban, a yellow silk coat with flowing sleeves, his scrawny legs encased in bright scarlet paejamas. He wore no arms, but he had recovered his glass eye.

"Khafi Khan—is it done?" Ram demanded softly.

"He still lives," was the brief reply as the scouts arrived, also richly dressed and escorting a palanquin carried by eight porters.

"It is time." Baja started up the steps with Ram. Uzoor Singh followed with his remaining men, the scouts and the palanquin bringing up the rear.

Within, Dadaji sat upon the daised throne, surrounded by officials, guards, sycophants and petitioners. He glanced up as Ram and Baja came slowly along the durbar's length toward him. Gasping, he stared at Baja, though evidently he took Ram for Jakes.

"Highness!" Baja salaamed. "Jakes Sahib was detained and Ramji Sahib replaces him. Khafi Khan is also here to make his obeisance."

Thick lips quivering, Dadaji looked around wildly at his guards.

"Let no one move!" Ram snapped, and the troopers covered the stunned crowd with their muskets. He was wondering what Baja had meant by saying that Khafi Khan was here. Where?

He understood, after the porters had put down the palanquin before the dais and Suraya Rao had flung it open.

The Pathan had been impaled alive.

An eight-foot stake had been forced up his fundament and through his whole body, to project between his broken, bloody jaws, so that he resembled a woodcock on a spit! Yet his eyes were open and his lips twitched feebly.

"Yes, Highness," Baja went on, "Khafi Khan salutes you, for your end will be mercifully swifter than his!"

Perfectly timed, the prison rescue party arrived, an emaciated, ragged woman in their midst.

"Dadaji Rao Bahadur, behold the ranee of him you murdered!" Baja cried. "She is the rightful ruler of Rakosawan. Give place to her!"

But the cringing rajah could only stare in horror at Khafl Khan.

"Long ago, Highness, my grandfather, Sivaji, was brought captive

before the King of Bejapoor." Baja's voice rose. "Have you heard of the Tiger's Claws, O Prince? It was with them that Sivaji slew that king—as now I slay you!"

He flung back the flowing sleeve from his right arm and raised his clenched fist, from between each finger of which projected a razor-like "claw." Then, with the speed of a real tiger, he sprang at his cowering enemy and with his left hand tore open his silk jacket, while his right raked the length of the fat torso once, twice, thrice. A dreadful screech arose and blood spurted as Dadaji Rao rose from his throne and crashed into the floor—disemboweled.

In the numbed silence, Baja stared down at Khafi Khan.

"Breaker of vows, I promised you'd outlive your master," he said terribly, taking a pistol from Suraya Rao with his left hand. "May Bhowani herself receive you!" He shot him between the eyes.

Dropping the smoking weapon and the small steel bar with its three dripping claws, he took the trembling ranee by the hand and seated her on the throne.

"Pay homage, O men of Rakosawan, to your rightful princess. I, Bajaji Rao Bhonsla, her dewan and chief councilor, command you!"

CHAPTER 10 PORTUGUESE GOA, 1729

It had been so incredibly easy that Ram felt perturbed. To march over a hundred miles across semihostile territories and kidnap Rajah Prasad from his very palace had been daring indeed; but that not a shot had been exchanged in the process was worrying.

And now Ram was returning northward across Panmali State, with the rajah well guarded in a horse-drawn ekka. But the prince

looked far too complaisant for one who had broken his alliance with Baja and joined his enemies. Did he hope for a rescue?

Yet, moving down the wide valley, with two squadrons acting as advance and flank guards, Ram permitted himself a moment of vanity. Even in India there were few generals, with several successful campaigns behind them, at the age of twenty-five. The realization made him straighten in his saddle and set Battle to curvet like a colt. That his present command consisted of only his First Dragoon Regiment and a horse battery had been his own choice, since he had counted upon speed, audacity and discipline for the swift dash in and a swifter one out.

A jamadar came galloping back from the advance. "Huzoor, the Kumail Sahib says many enemies are gathering across our front," he reported. "They seem only local levies, but there are horse and foot and even some great guns."

So that was it! Ram felt positive relief. Small wonder the rajah was so unruffled. Somehow, the alarm had been spread and now it was planned to trap the invaders! Well, one would see.

"Guard our princely guest well," he ordered the escort's captain and cantered to the column's head. Yes, the road was barred by a mass of men and horse, with straggling knots of more streaming down from the hills on either side. But more important were the three huge guns being moved into position, each with fifty or more men hauling on the drag ropes.

His lips tightened. His trained squadrons could soon crash through the horde, but he had no relish for risking great stone cannon balls tearing grisly lanes through their close-packed ranks.

He reined in beside the regiment's colonel, Gian Singh, a kinsman of Uzoor Singh, and a leader of great promise.

"Kurnail Sahib, entertain this mob with two squadrons, but keep open formation so the guns can do you little harm," he ordered. "I'll take the rest and fall on the enemy from the rear."

The Sikh's eyes flashed. "Excellent, Huzoor! Yet already our horses are weary. What if later the Panmali cavalry pursue us?"

"Opium!" Ram decided. "A pellet for each animal at once." It was not for the first time he'd used the old Pindaree trick of using the drug on horses. The amazing extra endurance it gave them should bring them almost back to Rakosawan before its effects died.

While each trooper was giving his mount an opium pellet, Ram studied the terrain ahead. Then all was ready and trumpets blared. Gian Singh deployed the advance out of range of the massed foemen and Ram took command of the main body. At a hand gallop he led his squadrons forward, straight at the enemy's center, then swerved them right to begin a turning movement around the left of the horde.

Already affected by the opium, Battle developed tremendous energy and became hard to manage. Ram stood in his stirrups, waving his jeweled saber. "Dragoons—charge!"

"Kai jai!" came the answering roar as he led around the enemy flank, intending to crash home from the rear.

But then he had to fight Battle back on its haunches. For, debouching from the village just behind his objective was a regiment of redcoated sepoys, the colors of the H.E.I.C. at its head. Ram realized then why Rajah Prasad was so confident; he was an ally of the John Company!

"Humla-kuru!" he yelled, pointing his saber in the new direction, knowing it futile to smash the mob if the Company troops had time to deploy and open disciplined fire.

Gi\ing Battle full rein, he charged. He had a blurred sight of a European on a big bay, of the leading company halting and forming to receive cavalry, of muskets coming down to the fire position. Then he crashed into it, his troopers at his heels.

The company disintegrated under the onrush; the second one had halted in confusion, its European officers shouting conflicting orders. "Give them no time!" he yelled and charged its front files. A moment more and he was through them and was in the village.

It was an utter rout. Taken by surprise, even these well-disciplined sepo}s had no chance. As for the levies, now the regulars were beaten, they swarmed back into the protecting hills.

A bay horse was overtaking Ram on the right and, thinking its rider was one of the dragoons, he was about to warn him to keep back when he saw that the rider wore red and had a red-mottled face.

"Rale!" he gaped incredulously.

If the major heard him he paid no attention, being too intent upon reaching his regiment's rear and in throwing off some of Ram's