clean white robe girdled by a red cummerbund and hung with a jewelled
scabbard, looked horrified. He watched the smoke spread across the
ravine. He was puzzled because it was not at all clear what the nearer
guns were firing at.
“But the enemy can’t get in here!”
“There are other British soldiers approaching, sahib,” Dodd said, and
he pointed to the smoke cloud above the ravine. The guns on the near
side of the Outer Fort, most of them small three- and five-pounder
cannon, were aiming their pieces westwards, which meant that British
troops must be approaching up the steep road which led from the
plain.
Those troops were still out of Dodd’s sight, but the gunnery from the
Outer Fort was eloquent proof of their presence.
“There must be redcoats coming towards the ravine,” Dodd explained,
‘and we never foresaw that the British might assault in more than one
place.” Dodd told the lie smoothly. “I have no doubt they have men
coming up the southern road too.”
“They do,” the Killadar confirmed.
Dodd shuddered, as though the news overwhelmed him with despair.
“We shall do our best,” he promised, ‘but I cannot defend everything at
once. I fear the British will gain the victory this day.” He bowed to
the Killadar again.
“I am so very sorry, sahib. But you can gain an immortal reputation by
joining the fight. We might lose today’s battle, but in years to come
men will sing songs about the defiance of Beny Singh. And how better
for a soldier to die, sahib, than with a sword in his hand and his
enemies dead about his feet?”
Beny Singh blanched at the thought.
“My daughters!” he croaked.
“Alas,” Dodd said gravely, ‘they will become soldiers’ toys. But you
should not worry, sahib. In my experience the prettiest girls usually
find a soldier to defend them. He is usually a big man, crude and
forceful, but he stops the other men from raping his woman, except his
friends, of course, who will be allowed some liberties. I am sure your
wives and daughters will find men eager to protect them.”
Beny Singh fled from Dodd’s reassurances. Dodd smiled as the
Killadar ran, then turned and walked towards Hakeswill who was posted
in the bastion above the innermost gate. The Sergeant had been issued
with a sword to accompany his black sash. He slammed to attention as
Dodd approached him.
“Stand easy, Mister Hakeswill,” Dodd said. Hakeswill relaxed slightly.
He liked being called “Mister’, it somehow seemed appropriate. If that
little bastard Sharpe could be a mister and wear a sword, then so could
he.
“I shall have a job for you in a few minutes, Mister Hakeswill,” Dodd
said.
“I shall be honoured, sir,” Hakeswill replied.
Dodd watched the Killadar hurry up the path towards the palace.
“Our honoured commander,” he said sarcastically, ‘is taking some bad
news to the palace. We must give the news time to take root there.”
“Bad news, sir?”
“He thinks we’re going to lose,” Dodd explained.
“I pray not, sir.”
“As do I, Mister Hakeswill, as do I. Fervently!” Dodd turned to watch
the gunners in the Outer Fort and he saw how puny their small cannon
were and he reckoned that such fire would not hold up the redcoats for
long. The British would be in the ravine in half an hour, maybe
less.
“In ten minutes, Mister Hakeswill, you will lead your company to the
palace and you will order the Arab guards to come and defend the
walls.”
Hakeswill’s face twitched.
“Don’t speak their heathen language, sir, begging your pardon, sir.”
“You don’t need their language. You’ve got a musket, use it. And if
anyone questions your authority, Mister Hakeswill, you have my
permission to shoot them.”
“Shoot them, sir? Yes, sir. With pleasure, sir.”
“Anyone at all, Mister Hakeswill.”
Hakeswill’s face twitched again.
“That fat little bugger, sir, him what was just here with the curly
moustache .. .”
“The Killadar? If he questions you .. .”
“I shoot the bugger, sir.”
“Exactly.” Dodd smiled. He had seen into Hakeswill’s soul and
discovered it was black as filth, and perfect for his purposes.
“Do it for me, Mister Hakeswill, and I shall gazette you as a captain