Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (31 page)

troopers who, delighted to be chasing an Ungresi officer, clearly intended to have his head.

Before Ram could restrain the pursuers a sepoy, more resolute than his fellows, thrust up at Ram with his bayonet. Ram parried the blow with his saber and the man went down under Battle's hoofs. When he again looked for the major, he saw that the bay had fallen and that Rale was afoot and running hard around the village water tank, two dragoons still chasing him and yelling insults that the "brave Ungresi" preferred fleeing to defending himself with the sword he still clutched.

Ram knew he must save him, particularly since he was showing such arrant cowardice. The tale would spread like wildfire that one of the feared Company's officers had deserted his men under fire. Every European in India would suffer from the disgrace, Ram himself included,

"Meraj ud Din and you, Feroz Khan, rejoin your squadron this instant!" he bellowed, but had to overtake one of them and beat him with the flat of his saber to make him obey.

"Wah, Jernail Sahib, why can't I give him a taste of my steel?" the man protested. "I would look very fine in his red coat!"

"Back!" Ram growled. Looking rearward, he saw the battleground almost deserted, the three great guns deserted and their muzzles pointed toward the front from which no attack had come.

When Gian Singh brought up the remaining squadrons and the captive rajah, who seemed stunned by the disaster. Ram ordered him to re-form the regiment and continue the march. "Other states may have been raised against us too, so we must move at top speed."

Having leisure now, he thought once more of Rale. Cantering around the tank, he received the surrender of several dejected sepoys, but told them merely to drop their weapons and rejoin their companies. Then he saw his man, panting heavily and leaning upon a well's top.

Ram rode toward him slowly. He had never intended to fight Company troops, but this had been an accident and, much as he disliked Rale, he felt that he owed him an apology.

"Quarter! I surrender!" Rale panted in Hindustani and proffered his sword, hilt first.

Ram was incredulous. The commander of a sepoy regiment, that

had merely been scattered but not beaten, was abjectly surrendering.

"Damme, Major, I don't want your sword," he returned in English. I'd no idea there were Company troops here or why they are."

Rale stared at him blankly, for Ram was no longer a beardless boy, but a turbaned, mustached centaur in a white coat with red facings, a gold sash and the air of a great Hindu conqueror.

Then recognition came. "You! God damn ye for a traitorous bastard! Begod, you'll hang for this!"

"Now, now," Ram chided. "How can I be a traitor, since I've never served the H.E.I.C? I'm commander in chief of the Rajah Bajaji Rao Bhonsla's armies, and I'm merely escorting the Rajah of Panmali to a conference with my prince regarding their alliance."

"Panmali's allied to the Company, and by capturing him you've become a traitor!" Rale blustered, then, remembering his recent less-than-heroic conduct: "Begod, if ye so much as breathe a word you saw me somewhat nonplussed, I'll have you killed!"

"Sir, 'tis pleasant to know that one so portly as yourself is so swift of foot," Ram chuckled. "To outrun mounted men like that was prodigious. How the governors in London would enjoy learning that you can outrun all your men toward the rear!"

But later, on the swift march homeward. Ram's anger grew; not against craven Rale, but that Baja had assured him that Rajah Prasad's only allies were other small princelings. Or was it that Baja, in his pride, knew that Prasad's ally was the H.E.I.C, yet was willing to make war on it, using Ram to do the making?

You're not going to make me the scapegoat, he fumed silently. I'm Enghsh, damme, and I don't fight my own, not even for you!

"It's time to part." He paced the chamber irritably. "I weary for my homeland. Also, I'm no longer necessary."

"Don't you lead my armies, doesn't your fame ring throughout all Hind and the Great Mogul himself curse your name?" Baja's good eye sparkled maliciously. "What more can hold you to me; gold, jewels or perhaps some slave girls of great beauty and skill?"

Ram halted. "I want leave to depart. You knew Rajah Prasad was allied with the John Company, yet you let me blunder without warning upon Company troops. I never bargained to fight the English."

"I fight Marathas when necessary," Baja shrugged. "Arre, this Rale Sahib is of no importance and can do you no harm."

"He can't, but the Company's now proclaimed me a renegade, Hume Sahib's letter tells me. I'm also accused of seducing Jakes from his ship. Should I ever be caught in the territory of the Company or its allies, I'm liable to be executed."

"Then remain with me," Baja countered. "Think, bhaee, how we've prospered. I am Rajah of Rakosawan-Talkrir, with a son of my blood and, Bhowani willing, another to brother him soon. Half a score states pay me tribute, and Narinian Prasad will pay me five lakhs for his mistake, before I let him return to his paltry Panmali. Wah, with your help I've rekindled the courage of the Marathas! Men from my loins will some day drive the Moslem usurper from all India. Think of how renowned generals flock to serve me!"

"And how they plot against me! No, Bajaji, for your sake and mine, let me go lest you must take sides with or against me."

"Arre, could anything turn me from you, bhaee?"

"Matters of policy could. My regiments are now in fine state. Bring Uzoor Singh back from his governorship to command them. The generals won't envy him, but they distrust a Feringi."

The years had lined Baja's face and turned his mustaches white, yet now when he looked up there was a flash of his old smile.

"Wah, chota bhaee, then let it be as you wish. The lure of your own land is upon you. How do you think to go?"

Tension draining from him, Ram returned the grin. "From Goa. The Company ports and even Bankipur and the French and Dutch ones are too dangerous for me. But the Portuguese are no longer a power, so Goa will be safest."

"When, bhaee?"

"At the time of the northeast monsoon, when the winds are favorable. I've talked with merchants who know of these things."

Rising, Baja placed his hands on Ram's taller shoulders. "Till the coming of my son, you were my son," he said quietly. "Now go. I must hold durbar for some Pindaree chiefs who seek to enter my service."

Ram left with a sense of emptiness. Yes, they had been close; it would seem strange to go back in England, away from all this. Yet as he mounted Chota—now sire of many of his strain—his mind

whirled with plans. Thank God Hume had managed to get Gammer's letter to him. Her plea had been that she lived only for his return. Captain Villebonne already lay in Bowes churchyard, and her own old bones ached for the same rest. "Come, even though ye haven't a gowld guinea to thy name," she had ended. But the letter was two years old. Perhaps already she was—at peace.

As for Hume's own news, apart from warning Ram about the H.E.I.C., he admitted the Ostend Company was in bad straits and might not last much longer. But his big surprise was that Bea had married an Austrian lieutenant who would one day become a baron, while Annie had married Fred Morgan!

Both girls had grown dim in his memory, and now his concern was about Chanda. Would she turn Christian, at least in appearance? How would she take to crossing Kali Pani—the Black Water? Damme, she'd do as he willed and forget her superstitions!

On reaching his house—actually a small palace fitting for "J^rnail Ramji Anster Sahib"—servants swarmed to lead Chota away, to relieve him of his hot uniform and to see to his comfort.

"Advise the Lady Chanda I would consult with her," he told his khansaman, and relaxed in loose native dress to sip cooling sherbet. With western India seething with revolt, I'll best take a squadron as escort, he decided. There's many who'd gladly slit my throat for being Baja's chief general; besides, there's the loot. How Gammer's eyes will shine when I deck her in jewels and silks!

One of Chanda's slaves glided in to say her lady awaited him eagerly. Bounding up, he followed her to the zenana, where Chanda hurried to him, her lustrous eyes as alight as ever.

"Lord, my heart is glad," she welcomed. "Is all well?"

"Dear one." He regarded her fondly. There had been a time, after Jakes, when he feared she would never again be young; yet today she was even more lovely, as comforting as a dream, as staunch as a trusted blade.

"I'm free at last," he told her gaily. "My service is over and we cross the Black Water. We must make instant preparation."

The light in her eyes died. "You return to your home, lord?"

"We do," he corrected. "My grandmother fails and we must go to her. Even so, it will take almost a year of travel."

For a little she seemed not to understand, then she fell at his

feet. "Nuheen, nuheen, it cannot be!" she moaned. "The august grandmother would not receive a barren woman. I'm unworthy, unworthy!"

"Enough, she'll receive you with joy." He raised her and she clung to him, weeping piteously. "At Goa are Christian priests. One will perform the marriage rites and you'll sail as my wife."

"A wife bears sons!" she wailed. "You must wed one of your own race, one who'll yield bountifully. Countless times have I prayed before the lingam at the Temple of Siva that my womb may be blessed again, but since—since my hurting, it's been fruitless. No, lord, I'm but the most worthless of your slaves."

"God damn the bastard!" he snarled in English, regretting he had killed Jakes only once. Poor lass, no, she'll likely never bear again. Perhaps I'd best turn Moslem and wed an English girl for heirs but still keep Chanda. Damme, I'll not leave without her!

Leading her to a divan, he made her lie beside him. "We must consider plans. Goa is far, through many hostile states. So away with tears, Lotus Bud, and I'll tell you what I intend. . . ."

He ran up the veranda steps, humming an English air. Ecod, it was good to get a whiff of the sea again! Strange folk, these Goans. Now it was easy to understand about Madam Hume and her pride in Portuguese blood, even her dark hue. Why, half the seamen hereabouts were coal-black Abyssinians who had intermarried with the Portuguese, giving them their color in exchange for their tongue.

Yes, it was good to be here, after a month spent crossing many states and down the great Western Ghats. The only danger had come when a Pindaree band swarmed out of the jungle, but the disciplined escort had exterminated it without trouble.

Those escorting troopers were now on their way back to Ahmedpur, each with a rich parting gift. And tomorrow would see Ram aboard the merchantman, in which his baggage was already stowed.

"Chanda!"

She met him quickly, though subdued. "Lord?"

"We go aboard at dawn." He took her heart-shaped face in his hands. "Heart's Delight, we've a new tongue to learn—Portuguese. But doubtless we'll have the catch of it before we reach Lisbon. Come, smile and be glad."

But she backed from him, her eyes searching his face as if to imprint its every feature upon her memory.

"Give me my freedom," she breathed. "I cannot go with you."

"What, that again?" he flared, irritated.

"I dare not cross the Kah Pani. It would be evil."

"Where would you go if I let you free—back to the temple?"

She flushed at the taunt. "Lord, far to the north are my own people. I would go to them as a widow and never know men more."

He stared at her. She'd never been like this before. But, damme, wasn't she his slave, to obey his least wish? Or was she? Perhaps she was right; she might be happier among her own Rajput people.

"You're free," he nodded slowly. "Wait but till I sail, then journey to the north. You'll be rich. Here." He opened the casket she always guarded for him. In it lay the Ganesha necklace, worth, he imagined, at least a lakh of rupees; it also held other fine jewels and gold.

"Take all. You'll be richer than many a ranee."

"Lord of my soul!" She pressed his hand to her heart. "I am glad that no longer shall I encumber you with my barrenness. Yet I need no such wealth. Keep it for a woman of your own race."

His emotions were so hurt he lost the agony in her voice. He was verging on tears, yet behind all was a vague sense of relief. She was part of him, as no other human had ever been, still. . . .

"Beloved!" He clasped the necklace around her throat, put ornaments in her hair. "If it must be, then let us part with joyous love. Tonight is ours alone. At dawn I must go, leaving my heart in exchange for yours."

A tremulous little cry escaped her and then she was in his arms, a thing of fire, of passionate love and worship. There were times during the night when he felt that no two beings had ever experienced such ecstasy, and his last conscious remembrance was of the perfume of her hair. His Chanda!

It was still dark when she roused him. Not permitting servants to bring food, she served him herself. He ate in silence, the utter emptiness of parting upon him; but at last he forced himself to say, almost formally, "You'll take enough guards with you? See they're well armed and travel through the states allied with the John Company—they're safer. Take all the horses, but watch Battle's

off fetlock, it's stiffening badly," he tailed off lamely. Curse it, what could a man say at such a time?

He expected her to weep, but she remained dry-eyed.

"Lord, I am the daughter of warriors. Will you part with me as a warrior parts with—his wife?"

He held her hungrily, staring at her until he seemed lost in the depth of her eyes. Then reverently he kissed her and turned away.

"Behra, idhar ao!" he shouted hoarsely from the veranda.

The bearer appeared and was told to bring the other heavy casket, over which he had been on guard all night. In it was a fortune.

They started afoot toward the port. Day was coming and the city beginning to stir. But Ram's brain was too numbed for him to notice. He was tr^-ing not to think, lest the torture of thought be too much. Yet thought came, and with it an oath. Damn her, who's she to disobey me? She'll come with me as slave or wife, but come she shall. She's mine!

"We return," he said. Time was short and he broke into a run. She'll laugh at this once we're at sea, he smiled. Storms, calms, flying fish, porpoises, strange islands; she's never seen the like.

"Chanda!" He raced up the steps and into the zenana.

Sunlight was shooting its first rays through the half-open chicks and reaching for a glittering pile on the floor; gold, silver, rubies, diamonds, pearls. Before the heap lay Chanda, prostrate as if in prayer.

"Lotus Bud!" Damme, there was no time to be lost. The tide would be early, he'd been warned. "Chanda, you're coming with me—now!"

Then he saw the red that stained her side.

"Chandal"

He lifted her, turned her over. The sun's rays played upon the gold handle of the dagger.