Rebel Queen (32 page)

The massive cannon we’d named Ghanagaraj, meaning Mightiest of Mighties, was positioned in the southern tower overlooking a hill named Kapu Tikri, and eight other cannons were wheeled into position on the ramparts. Then the British rolled their own cannons into view.

Many people have described the sound of cannon fire as it tears through walls, and the agonizing cries of the wounded whose limbs are torn off or mangled. Fire, rubble, chaos, death. I will tell you that I have never read an account that accurately describes the horror.

From my position near Arjun and Moti on the ramparts, I witnessed the destruction of the southern tower. I had joined Arjun and Mandar in an overhead assault. With each arrow, I thought, am I killing someone’s father? Who will be mourning the loss of her son? Then a sudden blast shook the foundations of the fortress and our chief gunner was dead and no one was launching cannonballs from Ghanagaraj.

“Keep shooting!” Arjun shouted, “Keep firing!”

“What’s she doing?” Mandar suddenly cried out.

We watched as Moti scrambled up the broken steps of the tower. Small, fast Moti. I saw her ignite a single cannonball before gunfire tore open her chest and a blast knocked me on the ground. Then everything was gunfire and screams. I rushed to my feet and together, Mandar, Arjun, and I ran through the burning rubble toward the Panch Mahal.

“Where is the rani?” I shouted, but no one knew. People were running, and children were screaming, and then Arjun pointed to the shattered courtyard where the pretty tiles lay cracked and the fountain was blackened by ash. Advisers and military men surrounded the rani, and her forehead was smeared with soot.

“The English will stop firing as soon as it’s too dark to see,” she said when she saw Arjun. “But at first light . . .”

The unsaid words hung in the air.

“What do you want us to do?” he asked.

The rani stared into the distance, where smoke was billowing from a mortar hit. “Make a protective ring around the palace to guard the women and children in the Panch Mahal.”

Inside, the halls were crowded with people. Anyone who either couldn’t or wouldn’t flee ahead of the British army was taking shelter here. But we knew the British were capable of setting fire to buildings and burning everyone inside, and then shooting anyone who tried to escape.

T
hat night, we slept in the hall outside the rani’s chamber. Arjun took first watch and I dreamed of Moti running up the tower calling, “Sita! Sita! Wake up! I had a dream!”

I opened my eyes and saw the face of the rani. “I had a dream,” she repeated.

The rani had never spoken of her dreams. “I had a vision of an angel,” she confided.

In Hinduism, we do not have angels. But there are angels in Islam and Christianity.

“She was all in red, and the gems on her dress were brighter than this light.” She gestured to the oil lamp hanging next to her. “Then she was holding a ball of flame. Her hands were starting to burn and she said this was the fortress’s fate. Jhansi is destined to be destroyed by fire.”

“But why an angel?” I began to shiver. “Why not Durga or even Kali?”

“I don’t know. But she was as real as you are to me.”

“Have you told anyone else?” I didn’t think she should.

“No. But, Sita, it was more than a nightmare. It was a vision.”

We were quiet for several moments. Then I said, “In a few hours, the sun is going to rise and the British will be here.”

“Yes.” But I could see her trying to shake the vision from her mind. “We must prepare.”

We began rousing the surviving Durgavasi and the palace guards. She woke Kahini first. By five in the morning, everyone was waiting.

We stood around the breach in the wall, weapons readied, listening to the sound of birds calling to one another. It didn’t matter to them whether we slaughtered one another, or even who won. Tomorrow, they would be singing even if all of us were floating in the Ganges. The rani was peering over the ramparts, and I saw it at the same time she did: a wall of fire burning the grass along the northern banks of the Betwa River. And in the light of the flames, it was possible to see an army so vast that you couldn’t perceive its end.

Chapter Twenty-Six

S
houts of joy went up as we recognized the rebels’ red and white uniforms in the breaking light of day. Saheb’s general, Tatya Tope, had come with more than twenty thousand men. The King of Banpur was with him. The King of Shahgarh was with him. The Nawab of Banda, the sepoys of Kanpur, the sepoys of Assam. The numbers were so far in our favor it was a wonder the British didn’t turn around and run.

We watched from the ramparts as elephants materialized in the gray light of dawn, hauling cannons and weapons and carrying men. Our own elephants were for show, not war, but to see the giant beasts lumbering toward the plains beyond the fortress made everyone’s heart light. The rani gathered her guards around her. Heera and Rajasi were to join the soldiers outside the magazine, where all of Jhansi’s gunpowder was kept. The remaining Durgavasi and twenty-two men still left from the rani’s personal guards were to remain in the Durbar Hall until further notice.

Inside the palace, the feeling was celebratory. Twenty thousand men had appeared in the mist like a celestial army sent by the
gods. This was our land. These were our people. The gods were on our side. We seated ourselves on the stage while the rani took her throne and we waited for victory.

Then, the unthinkable occurred. Word came that General Rose had split his forces and was defeating the rebels at the river. As the day progressed, more bad news came, and Arjun couldn’t understand why Tatya Tope had exposed his outer flanks in that way.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he kept saying over the din of crying infants and nervous women inside the palace.

A few moments later, everything changed. Two British mortars hit the magazine where our gunpowder was kept. The explosion could be felt by every person in the fortress. The women inside the hall shrieked, terrified. It was as if the granite walls were about to crumble. Then the crowds inside the Durbar Hall grew silent as we waited for a second hit. It came, followed by a third.

“What’s happening?” Mandar exclaimed.

A soldier rushed in to report to the rani. “They’ve destroyed the entire magazine!” he cried. “All of the—”

The rani covered her mouth with her hands. Her first thought wasn’t that all of our gunpowder was gone. “Heera and Rajasi . . .” she whispered.

Mandar closed her eyes.

“Come,” the soldier said, leading the rani away. “You must see this.”

We waited an hour for the rani to return, listening to the rising panic in the hall. Heera and Rajasi were gone. I couldn’t believe it. They were dead.

When the rani returned, she summoned three of us into her chamber. “Arjun, Sita, Sundari,” she said. We followed her down the stairs into her room. Inside, she told Arjun to lock the door. Then she held out what looked like an official letter from the pal
ace. “From Tatya Tope.” Her hands were shaking. “He discovered it on one of the British soldiers.”

I took it and read it aloud. It was a letter in English from Gopal, detailing where the powder magazine could be found inside the fortress, and how a pair of ten-inch mortars could destroy the whole thing and cripple Jhansi’s army.

“We’ve been betrayed,” Sundari whispered.

“And not just by Gopal,” Arjun said. “Has he already been arrested?”

“Yes. And I have men questioning him.”

I felt sick. My entire body was like a heavy stone, dragging me toward the earth. If only I had told the rani before. Arjun looked at me, and it was all I could do to whisper, “There’s something I know.”

I could see from the rani’s expression that she was afraid I was going to confess to being a traitor. Instead, I told her what I’d seen. How Kahini and Gopal had sent someone a ring, how that same ring had appeared with Sadashiv when he arrived, her insistence that Sadashiv’s life be spared, and finally, how Kahini had discovered hemlock in my murti.

The rani walked to her bed and sat down. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t look at anyone.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and felt the inadequacy of the words even as I said them, the way you feel when offering a starving woman a cup full of rice. “I didn’t know if you would have believed me.”

She was quiet for several moments. Then she admitted, “I wouldn’t have. The raja once said that was my greatest fault as rani. I trusted too many people. And so did he . . .” Her voice slipped away, and we were silent while she spent some time with her thoughts. “I want to hear Gopal confess. I’ll tell the men to spare his life if he’ll expose Kahini. The British will kill him anyway.”

Of course they would. If a man was willing to expose his own country’s secrets, what made them think he wouldn’t expose theirs?

“Go back to the hall and keep a watch over Kahini. Make sure she doesn’t leave. If she does, restrain her.”

We returned to the Durbar Hall. Inside, infants were still screaming while their siblings did their best to pacify them. Their mothers looked shocked. Some rocked back and forth on their knees, praying. Others stared blankly at the wall in front of them. Were the husbands of all these women still alive? Would they ever see them again?

Kahini was sitting in the queen’s room on her favorite cushion. Perhaps it was animal instinct: she rose the moment she saw us and fled into the courtyard, navigating the broken tiles.

The three of us gave chase.

“Stop!” Sundari shouted, and to my surprise, Kahini did as she was told. But when she turned around, she leveled the pistol at Sundari’s chest and fired.

I launched an arrow, striking Kahini in the arm. She stumbled backward, and in the time it took to regain her balance, Arjun was on top of her, taking her weapons. He shouted and several guards came to help while I went to Sundari.

The captain of the Durga Dal clutched her chest. After so many years of devoted service,
the enemy had come from within, not without.

“You’re going to be fine,” I swore. I thought of the first day we’d met, when she had reminded me of a cat. There is a saying in English that cats possess nine lives. But Sundari only had one. Her breathing became ragged and she squeezed my hand. A thin trickle of blood escaped her lips. “Sundari!”

Kahini’s face was a perfect mask.

“You killed her!” I screamed. Kahini’s arm was bleeding heavily, but she didn’t look down at it. “You poisoned the rajkumar,” I said, moving toward her. “You poisoned the raja. The rani was next, but you were hoping the British would do your work for you!”

“And what did you do about it?” She wore a satisfied smile.

“Take her to the prison,” Arjun said. “Guards!”

But I reminded everyone that this was where her lover, Sadashiv, was waiting.

“Why don’t we just give her to the British?” one of the men suggested.

For the first time, Kahini’s face registered fear. “I’ll kill myself first!” She struggled violently, but there were four of them around her. We could hear her screaming all the way down the hill. Soldiers carried away Sundari’s body and we returned to the rani’s chamber. From the redness in the rani’s eyes, I assumed she had heard everything that had happened.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, glancing at Kashi, who was holding Anand. “They’ve taken Kahini to the British to do with her . . . as they will.”

The rani was confused. “I don’t understand.”

I glanced at Arjun. “I thought Your Highness was upset because you’d heard about Sundari.”

“That I’d heard what about Sundari?”

I whispered, “Kahini shot and killed her.”

The rani buried her head in her hands and Kashi sobbed aloud. Then the rani looked up and gestured to a pile of opened letters. “Some of them are for you,” she said. “Gopal was hiding them.”

I started digging madly through the pile. One, two, three letters from Ishan, my sister’s husband. One from Shivaji. Three from my father. All of them dated within the past four months. I unfolded a letter from my father first.

You are needed in Barwa Sagar, Sita. Please come at once, and bring soldiers with you from the rani’s court. The British are arresting the most beautiful women in the village and they have taken your sister. . . .

I could barely breathe.

Shivaji:

Sita, they’ve taken Anu to a house of prostitution and are refusing to let her go. The gods only know what they’re doing to her and we’re hoping force or money will persuade them. Sita, please . . .

I pressed my hand to my forehead to make the words stop moving. Arjun read them as I put them down. Note after note imploring me to come. To bring money or men or both.

My son says he will still accept her as his wife, but what will he be accepting back if we don’t rescue her now? Imagine what they are doing? I can’t think you are getting these letters or you would have been here by now.

I pushed the rest of the letters away. Whatever fate lay ahead of Kahini, I felt strongly that it would not be terrible enough.

“As soon as we can, I’ll send money and men,” the rani swore.

But who knew when that would be? If I died in Jhansi, my sister would remain enslaved in a British brothel. The thought was enough to make me understand what had driven Azimullah Khan. I could understand the rage. Now, I really could.

“What about Gopal?” Arjun asked.

“He admitted that what Sita suspected was true.” The rani’s
voice was empty. “She promised to make him her lover if he would help put her and Sadashiv on the throne.”

Arjun swore, “Sita, when this is over, we’ll ride straight to Barwa Sagar.” Then he turned to the rani. “Our men are still fighting.”

The rani stood. “Let’s drive the British from Jhansi,” she vowed, “and from this entire continent.”

She summoned Mandar, Priyala, and Jhalkari. Then the five of us made for the ramparts. As we reached the walls, General Raghunath Singh descended the stairs to give us a report.

“The fort’s water supply has been sabotaged,” he said. “It will only last two more days.”

The gunfire was ceaseless, and we had to shout over the noise.

“Tatya Tope?” the rani asked. “Is he fighting effectively?”

“There is news he has fled to Charkhari, Your Highness. The rebel forces are without a leader. The British have moved a twenty-four pound Howitzer into place. When it fires, the walls of Jhansi will crumble.”

The six of us stood in a circle. A soft breeze brushed against my neck. It was April. Somewhere in India, a woman was braiding her long hair with jasmine blossoms.

“The rebels are regrouping in Kalpi,” General Singh continued. “My advice is to find a way to escape Jhansi. Take your son and head to Kalpi so that you may save yourself and fight again.”

We made our way back to the Panch Mahal, listening to the shrieks of women in the streets who were pleading with the rani to save them. Inside the palace, the chaos was even greater. People were running through the halls, screaming. As soon as we reached the rani’s bedchamber, Jhalkari asked to speak with the rani alone. So we waited in the hall. Every few moments, a woman with a
child came up, begging us to help her escape. “I know the rani will leave with the rajkumar, and you will go with her. Take my son,” one woman pleaded hysterically.
“Please.”

“Shrimati-ji, we can’t,” Priyala said gently. “We don’t have any way of leaving the city.”

“Then what hope is there for me? Or him?” She held up her son. He looked to be six months old, with big eyes and dimpled cheeks. “He won’t be any trouble. He’s a happy child.”

“Shrimati-ji,” Priyala whispered, “I’m sorry. We’ll pray for you.”

“Please!” the woman begged. “He doesn’t need much milk. He eats food—”

Priyala began weeping openly, and Arjun looked away. I knew he felt as useless as I did.

When the rani opened the door, she and Jhalkari both had red eyes. “Arjun, Sita. I wish to see the two of you alone,” the rani said.

Jhalkari smiled sadly at me as we passed.

For several moments the rani didn’t speak. When she did, her voice was rough, as if she’d been talking very loudly for many hours. “We are leaving Jhansi tonight through the Bhandir Gate. My father and four hundred of his men will be with me. Anand, Kashi, Mandar, and Priyala will be with me as well. And all of Arjun’s guards. We’re going to wait until the British have entered Jhansi and chaos reigns. Then we’ll dress as soldiers from Orchha,” she said.

It was a very clever ruse, since the kingdom of Orchha had sent soldiers to help the British, and they would look exactly like any of the rani’s men.

The rani gave a blue velvet satchel to Arjun. “I want you to take this,” she said. “It will be enough to free Sita’s sister from the British. Neither of you are coming with me to Kalpi.”

We both raised our voices to protest, but the rani cut us off with a firm shake of her head.

“Choose ten men to take with you, and when she’s free, find me if you can. If not, use whatever remains in this bag and flee. Find a city far away from here and marry. Have children. And never let the British find you.”

She waved us away before we could say anything, and for the next hour, she called on the people who were most important to her, so that she could make her good-byes.

Arjun and I sat in the hall with Jhalkari and waited to be called on. No one said anything. When I tried to make conversation with Jhalkari, to ask her what sort of diversion she planned and how she would still make it to Kalpi, she rebuffed my attempts. I didn’t understand why she was being so stubborn. Did she not trust me anymore? I kept stealing glances in her direction, hoping she’d change her mind, but her face remained a locked box. She was planning something and didn’t want me to be a part of it.

By midnight, we had all dressed ourselves as soldiers from Orchha, putting on loose churidars and dirty kurtas. From the look and smell of our garments, I guessed they came from the bodies of dead men. The rani carried a long cloth and all of her weapons, but nothing else. If she had jewels hidden under her kurta, I didn’t see them. Outside, our horses waited, with none of their usual tack. The queen’s mare, Sarangi, had been stripped of her finery. An old cloth had replaced her saddle. Kashi brought Anand, and the rani tied him tightly behind her, then covered him with her woolen cloak. He didn’t speak a word, either to complain or cry, and I wondered what he would be like as an adult if he survived this.