The Ravi Lancers (8 page)

‘It is late, sir,’ Krishna said doubtfully.

‘Not for her,’ the rajah said. ‘Go, boy, lest worse befall--’ Krishna made obeisance to his grandfather, joined his palms to the priest, and hurried out of the temple. It was raining hard now, pools of water lay in the dark square, lashed by the rain, and the lamps at the palace gate flickered in their niches. A sleepy guard admitted him and he ran down the narrow corridors to his widowed mother’s door. He called, ‘Mother, it is Krishna. You wanted to see me?’

She answered at once. ‘Come, son.’ She was talking almost before he was through the door. ‘Where have you been? What dangers on the road in that devilish machine? Did you win the ca-ricket? How many rupees did you spend in the Hira Mandi?’

Krishna laughed, hugging her. ‘There, mother, now be quiet a moment. Yes, we won the cricket. Dayal Ram is bringing our team back by train to Pathankot tonight. They ought to be here tomorrow.
He
visited the Hira Mandi, of course, but I did not, at all. I took an English captain to tea at Faletti’s. Captain Bateman. I met him and his sister in January. And we’re going to the war! ‘

‘What war? What are you talking about, son?’

‘War in Europe. Grandfather is offering the Lancers to join the Indian Expeditionary Force to France.’

‘Oh,’ his mother said. She scratched her chin thoughtfully. ‘You’ve been meeting English women, eh? That will lead nowhere. We don’t want you marrying a European, like the Holkars. And you didn’t go to Hira Mandi? That Fleming Sahib put such puritanical ideas into your head that it’ll take some sensible Indian woman half her life to suck them out again. The Young Sahib, that’s what you are! Aiiih, my son twenty-seven and not a father! When are you going to get married again?’

‘When I fall in love,’ Krishna said, ‘but there’s no danger of that just now. I have more important matters in my mind.’

He had been married as a child to the daughter of another ruling house; but the girl had died of smallpox a week before the marriage was due to be consummated, on Krishna’s sixteenth birthday.

‘Bholanath’s granddaughter,’ his mother said thoughtfully. ‘She’s seventeen now and very pretty. Healthy and strong, too. That’s good stock. A cousin of yours, of course, but that’s no harm.’

‘Mother, I must go.’ He kissed her, stopping the flow of words in his embrace, and slipped out while she was still talking.

Hanuman, out of his splendid livery now, lay asleep across the doorway of his room. He rose silently as Krishna touched him with his foot, and said, ‘Lieutenant Pahlwan Ram was here. He said one of the dancing girls says she is in love with you. He will send her here if you want her.’

Krishna said, ‘I’m tired. And if I didn’t take a girl in the Hira Mandi, why should I take one now? Pahlwan ought to know I don’t like that kind of love.’

As Hanuman went on ahead of him, yawning and lighting the lamps, Krishna said, ‘That will do. I’m going to sleep now ... Do you know, we may be going to France to fight in the war?’

The squat orderly said, ‘Whom do we fight?’

‘The Germans.’

‘Are they white or brown or black?’

‘White.’

‘Ah. That’ll be the first time I ever fought a white man. But my father fought the English in the Great Mutiny time.’

‘I know, Hanuman. Go now.’

The orderly shambled out, his long arms swinging, and Krishna heard him lying down again on the mat outside the door. He began to undress. Mr. Fleming looked seriously at him from one of the silver frames on top of his chest of drawers. At the other end of the chest there was a picture of Ranjitsinhji raising his cap to the crowd after scoring a century for England; the picture was autographed by the great cricketer himself. What would they think of one of his captains offering him a dancing girl? Well, Ranji must have been brought up in similar circumstances, but Mr. Fleming would be very unhappy. Mr. Fleming had been insistent about the respect due to women, even the most humble, and about the sin of treating lightly what should be a deep, rare emotion.

He got into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. How long would it take the Viceroy to reply? How long after that would they be given to get the regiment equipped for overseas? He felt a pang of guilt as he remembered that he had not told Colonel Hanbury yet. He’d have to do that tomorrow. The colonel was really too old for active service, but the British would probably insist that he accompany the regiment or send another BO to take his place. He saw, in a vision, the Lancers cantering across a green field, the lances swinging slowly down to the horizontal, the steel points shimmering as the horses stretched into a gallop. At their head rode ... Krishna. The demi-god, his face dark blue. Himself.

He turned over uneasily, thinking of the conference in the temple. What would Miss Bateman think of that great phallus in the inner recess? How could she be expected to know that it was a concept of God’s immanence in creation? She would believe that Indians worshipped sex, thought of nothing but sex. Superstition, dirt, poverty ... What did the Rawal mean, that he was being sent as an envoy? Nonsense! He was going as an ally. Perhaps after this the Rajahs of Ravi would get a title equal to that bestowed on the Gaekwar of Baroda: Daulat-i-Inglesiya, Faithful Ally of the British Government.

A crash of thunder shook and rattled the new glass window in its frame, and lightning blazed like white fire over Mr. Fleming, Ranjitsinhji, and the small brass statue of the Lord Krishna embracing his mistress, the graceful Radha, on the mantelpiece.

‘Next detail, ready! ‘ the rissaldar barked, and the eight sowars snapped to attention on the firing point. ‘Number!’

‘Detail, lying--load!’ The men sprang forward and down into the lying position. The bolts clicked, the rounds crunched home. Warren Bateman, walking up and down behind the raised earth platform of the firing point, heard the buzz of the field telephone. The signaller on duty picked it up and said, ‘
Butts-men tayyar hain, rissaldar-sahib
.’

The rissaldar acknowledged the information with a raised hand and gave the next order. ‘Five rounds grouping--fire! ‘

Monsoon clouds hung like bloated parti-coloured balloons over the ranges and the muddy fields and green trees that spread all round. Rain was falling on the city a couple of miles to the west and on the cantonments just behind him. Soon it would be raining here, too, and the men would be more depressed than ever. The annual course had to be fired, but Warren thought that in the circumstances it would be better to have postponed it for a time and taken the regiment out on a six-day route march, even though it would have had to be on foot. Anthrax, at this moment above all, when the division was mobilizing with frantic speed, to go first of all Indian troops to the war! And this regiment to be its spearhead, its cavalry arm to search and probe far ahead of the trudging infantry, to protect them against enemy infiltration, to be their eyes and their shield! It was a far more interesting role for the independently minded officer than service in an all-cavalry formation, endlessly practising the charge, endlessly extolling the
arme blanche
. . .

And now, a hundred horses already shot and burned, the ashes buried, the others under the strictest quarantine--the 44th Bengal Lancers had simply been wiped out as a cavalry unit, as effectively as though someone had cut the page out of the Indian Army List. The immediate fact was bad enough, seen in the context of the orders for mobilization received six hours before the outbreak was discovered; but the prospect before them was even more bleak. All the remounts available were wanted for the regiments in the Indian Cavalry Corps, and those on the North West Frontier. What on earth could they do with the men until horses were somehow found?

The banging of musketry continued. The squadron was firing badly, he noted. No good shouting at them--that never helped a man to aim or fire better. They were upset, and it showed.

A sowar carrying a silver-headed cane marched smartly up and saluted.
‘Colonel-sahib salaam bholta, sahib. Daftar men.’

Warren returned the salute, calling,
‘Rissaldar-sahib, mujhe daftar-ka jana hai,’
and headed towards the cantonments. It was a mile down a dusty track and the sun was hot and the air damp, for it was nearly ten o’clock. Sweat darkened the back of Warren’s khaki shirt and the top of his breeches under his Sam Browne. He wondered what the colonel wanted him for. He couldn’t think of any crimes of omission or commission, but in the army one never knew. Colonels saw or imagined things their own way, according to their own rules. But it couldn’t be very bad or he’d have been told to appear wearing belt and sabre.

In the outer office the adjutant rose to salute him as he entered and Warren said, ‘What does the CO want me for, do you know, Rouse?’

‘He’ll tell you,’ the adjutant said, with a half smile. ‘Go straight in.’

Warren opened the colonel’s door and walked in. ‘You sent for me, sir?’

‘Yes. Sit down, Bateman ...’ The colonel sat back in his big chair behind the big desk. He was a tall burly man with a stubble of grizzled hair on either side of his broad sunburned forehead. He seemed now to be searching for words. At length he said, ‘Damned if I know whether I’m doing you a good turn or the opposite but ... I’ve been ordered to find an officer for posting to the Ravi Lancers as second-in-command and I’ve selected you. You stand a good chance of getting command soon, because Colonel Hanbury must be near the age limit.’

‘The Ravi Lancers?’ Warren said, startled. ‘States Forces?’

‘Yes. The Rajah heard that we’d got anthrax and offered his Lancers to replace us as Divisional Cavalry in the Hindustan Division . . .’

‘I bet that was the Yuvraj’s idea,’ Warren exclaimed.

‘Eh? I don’t know, but the Chief must have advised the Viceroy to accept, because it’s been done ... They’re an efficient lot, as States Forces go. We all saw quite a bit of them on cold weather manoeuvres, but mind, it’s what is under the surface that matters and there I expect they’re what one would expect--discipline and interior economy shaky, plenty of
bhai bundi
and
baksheesh
... and the Brahmin more powerful than the CO.’

Warren said, ‘I am surprised at GHQ deciding to send a States Force regiment overseas, instead of putting them on the Frontier here, and calling down, say, the Guides to replace us.’

The colonel said, ‘I agree. But frankly, I think we’re laying up trouble for ourselves in sending any Indian troops to France at all. It’s a white man’s war, and they’ll learn to kill white men. The sepoys and sowars are going to meet white women very different from memsahibs. They’re going to see things it would be just as well for all concerned that they should never see. Even the most loyal of them are going to return here questioning, wondering ... Well, all that’s in the future. For now I’ll just give you some advice. If you don’t want these Ravi fellows to run away the moment a German says boo to them ... or land you with the regimental funds embezzled ... or lie around smoking
bhang
when they ought to be inspecting stables ... or bribe the dafadars for small favours ... you’re going to have to drive them, take no excuses, show no mercy, right from the beginning. These people are not
our
Indians, but the Indians as they were before we came, the Indians we walked all over at Plassey and Laswarrie ... individually brave, often enough, but idle, corrupt, self-seeking, vicious when your back’s turned. Frankly, how in blazes you’re going to manage it after Colonel Hanbury goes, I don’t know. That’s the bad side of the job. The good side is that you’ll be promoted major at once, and, as I said, stand a good chance of replacing Colonel Hanbury soon.’

Warren said, ‘Yes, sir.’ His colonel had twenty-nine years’ service, all in India. He knew the men and the country intimately; but when he joined there were men and officers still serving who had seen the Mutiny, and they had passed on their attitudes to him. India was not as simple as that. In some ways it was worse, in some better. He himself was certainly not going to treat all the Ravi officers as scum, but rather would try to find out the qualities and defects of each. It would be a wonderful opportunity to get to know a class of people the British really had nothing to do with--the educated Indians of the upper and middle class. He would get an insight into the soul of another India--perhaps the true India--an India unmoulded by British hands or British attitudes.

The colonel lit a thin cigar. When he had finished he said, ‘You are to report to Basohli as soon as possible. The regiment is due to march from there on the 10th, to entrain at Pathankot for Bombay. You might intercept them on the line of march. They are being embodied into the Indian Army on the same terms and conditions as our own men. You will be given the acting rank of major, with pay, at once, and appointed second-in-command. The Ravi officers are being given powers of command, but not of punishment, over Indian and British troops.’ He stood up, extending his hand. ‘I was ordered to choose a major or senior captain for this job, Bateman. I chose you not because I could spare you the most easily---damn it, your going will break our polo team, if we ever play polo again--but because I think you’re the best man for the job. Indian painting and Indian music are more than just children’s daubs and cats’ caterwauling to you ... which is all they are to me. It’s going to be a difficult job. Good luck.’

Warren shook the proffered hand, and went out into the glaring sunlight. The silver-stick orderly leaped up from his chair on the veranda and saluted. Warren put on his topi and walked across the parade ground. His bungalow was just outside the lines on Roberts Road. He was living there still, but eating in the mess; and he had dismissed all the servants except the bearer, the six syces, sweeper, and bhisti, to their homes on half pay as soon as Diana and Joan and the children left in January. He was supposed to have followed long since on his own furlough, but another officer’s sickness had stopped that and now ... He’d been wondering whether to stay in the big bungalow, with its four bedrooms, or move into a bachelor’s quarter for the rest of the hot weather. That problem at least had been solved for him.