Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 2: Flashman and the Mountain of Light, Flash For Freedom!, Flashman and the Redskins. George Fraser MacDonald

f Chemist.

      g Cos = one and a half miles.

      h Constable.

      i “Be quiet! Careful!”

      j Sweetheart.

      k Corporal.

       Chapter 10

      Reviewing my career in India, I’d say that of all the wonders I saw there, that was the greatest. I dare say one should be prepared for anything in a land where an illiterate peasant girl can give you the square root of a six-figure number at first glance, but when I reflect on the skill and speed of those copyists, and the analytical genius that penetrated that code … well, it can still rob me of breath. Not as entirely as it did at the time, though.

      “Your punkah-wallah confessed how you wrote your cyphers with the aid of a book,” sneers the Akali. “It was copied in your absence, and compared with the intercepted cyphers by these men, who are skilled in cryptography – an Indian invention, as Major Broadfoot should have borne in mind!”

      “Oah, indeed! A veree simple cypher,” chirps the chi-chi, while the babus beamed and nodded. “Quite elementaree, you know, page numbers, dates of Christian calendar, initial letters of arl-tarnate lines –”

      “That will do,” says Maka Khan, and dismissed them, but one of the babus couldn’t resist a backward gleek at me. “Doctor Folliott and Mr McQuedy are jolly good fun!” squeaks he, and waddled out as fast as he could go.

      I sat sick and trembling. No wonder they’d been able to fake a message to trap me – with one tiny error of style which I’d been fool enough to ignore. What the devil had I written in my cyphers, though … they’d spotted the allusion to Jeendan, but I hadn’t named her … but what else had I said …?

      “You see?” says Maka Khan. “What you have written of late, we know. What else have you learned, up at the Fort yonder?”

      “Nothing, as God’s my witness!” I bleated. “General, upon my honour, sir! I protest … your cryptographers are mistaken – or lying! Yes, that’s it!” I hollered. “It’s a beastly plot, to discredit me – to give you an excuse for war! Well, it won’t serve, you scoundrels! What? Yes, it will, I mean – you’ll learn fast enough –”

      “Let’s have him below!” snarls the Akali. “He’ll babble as freely as his creature did!” There were growls of agreement from the others, and I fairly neighed in alarm.

      “What d’you mean, damn you? I’m a British Officer, and if you lay a finger –” They clapped the gag over my mouth again, and I could only listen in horror while the Akali swore that time was pressing, so the sooner they set about me the better, and they argued to and fro until Maka Khan turned them all out of the room, except for my three guards and the pock-marked naik – his face gave me the shudders, but I took some comfort from the fact that Maka had taken matters on himself; damned uncivil he’d been, what with “spy” and “murderer”, but he was a gentleman and a soldier, after all, and like calls to like, you know. Why, standing there tall and erect, glaring at me and twisting his grizzled moustache, he might have been any staff colonel at Horse Guards, bar the turban. Better still, he addressed me in English, so that the others should be none the wiser.

      “You spoke of war,” says he. “It has begun. Our advance guard is already across the Sutlej.²⁷ In a few days there will be a general engagement between the Khalsa and the Company army under Sir Hugh Gough. I tell you this so that you may understand your position – you are now beyond help from Simla.”

      So it had finally come, and I was a prisoner of war. Well, better here than there – at least I’d be out of harm’s way.

      “No, you are not a prisoner!” snaps Maka Khan. “You are a spy! Be quiet!” He took a turn about, and leaned down to stare grimly into my face. “We of the Khalsa know that our queen regent has turned traitor. We also suspect the loyalty of Lal Singh, our Wazir, and Tej Singh, our field commander. You have been Mai Jeendan’s intimate – her lover. We know she has sent assurances through you to Broadfoot – so much is plain from your recent cyphers. But what has she betrayed, in detail, of our plan of campaign – numbers, dispositions, lines of march, objectives, equipment?” He paused, his black eyes boring into mine. “Your one hope, Flashman, lies in full disclosure … immediately.”

      “But I don’t know anything, I tell you! Nothing! I’ve not heard a word of … of plans or objectives or any such thing! And I haven’t even seen Mai Jeendan for weeks –”

      “Her woman Mangla visited you last night!” His words came out like rapid fire. “You spent hours together – what did she tell you? How have you passed it to Simla? Through her? Or the man Harlan, who poses as your orderly? Or by some other means? We know you sent no cypher today –”

      “As God’s my judge, it ain’t true! She told me nothing!”

      “Then why did she visit you?”

      “Why … why … because, well, we’ve grown friendly, don’t you know? I mean … we talk, you see, and … Not a word of politics, I swear! We just … converse … and so forth …”

      God, it sounded lame, as the truth often does, and it drove him into a rage. “Either you’re a fool, or you think I am!” he rasped. “Very well, I’ll waste no more time! Your punkah-wallah spoke under persuasion … in unspeakable pain, which I trust you will spare yourself. You have a choice: speak to me now, in this room … or to this fellow …” He indicated the pock-marked naik, who took a pace forward, scowling “… in the cellar below.”

      For a moment I didn’t believe my ears. Oh, I’d been threatened with torture before, by savages like Gul Shah and those beastly Malagassies – but this was a man of honour, a general, an aristocrat! I wouldn’t believe it, not from someone who might have been Cardigan’s own brother, dammit –

      “You don’t mean it!” I yelped. “I don’t believe you! It’s a trick … a mean, cowardly trick! You wouldn’t dare! But you’re trying to frighten me, damn you …”

      “Yes, I am.” His voice and eyes were dead level. “But it is no empty threat. There is too much at stake. We are beyond diplomatic niceties, or the laws of war. Very soon now, hundreds – perhaps thousands – of men will be dying in agony beyond the Sutlej, Indian and British alike. I cannot afford to spare you, when the fate of the war may depend on what you can tell me.”

      By God, he did mean it – and before that iron stare I broke down utterly, weeping and begging him to believe me.

      “But I don’t know a damned thing! For Christ’s sake, it’s the truth! Yes, yes, she’s betraying you! She promised to warn us … and, yes! she’s delayed, and made the astrologers bungle it –”

      “You tell me what I know already!” cries he impatiently.

      “But it’s all I know, blast you! She never said a word of plans – oh, if she had I’d tell you! Please, sir, for pity’s sake, don’t let them torture me! I can’t bear it – and it’d do no good, damn you, you cruel old bastard, because I’ve nothing to confess! Oh, God, if I had, I’d tell you, if I could –”

      “I doubt it. Indeed, I am sure you would not,” says he, and before those words and tone, suddenly so flat, almost weary, I left off blubbering to stare. He was standing ramrod straight, but not