The handspike was lodged solidly in her chest and flecks of blood sprayed from her muzzle as her nostrils flared. She had been piked through a lung, Arthur realised.There was nothing he could do for her now. Such a wound was usually fatal, in which case the merciful thing to do was end the animal’s agony. Arthur drew a pistol from the saddle and his lips pressed into a thin line as he eased the muzzle to the side of the horse’s head and pulled the trigger. Diomed bucked to one side, legs tensing briefly before she died.
Arthur stared at Diomed for a moment before he took one of the few mounts that had been made available by the loss of its rider during the skirmish. From the saddle he saw the last of the gunners being shot down by Harness as they tried to flee towards the bank of the Kaitna. Arthur’s third mount of the day was a poor replacement for his previous horses and was badly blown by the long marches it had endured over the course of the day and the previous night.
By the time Arthur reached the infantry line every battalion had formed up in a line that ran across the spit of land. Ahead of them the remains of Scindia’s army formed their third line of defence for the day, with their backs to the Juah river. Most of Maxwell’s cavalry had drifted back across the river and was re-forming to the east of the British line, just outside Assaye.
Arthur steered his new mount towards Maxwell and his tired, but elated, troopers.
‘One last task for you today.’ Arthur forced himself to smile, aware that their initial exchange would be overheard by the nearest men.
‘Name it, sir.’ Maxwell was grinning, clearly having the time of his life. ‘Did you see my boys charge, sir? We tore them to pieces, by God! Would have chased them all the way to the Himalayas if the lads had had their way.’
‘Then I’m thankful that they didn’t. I need you here and I need you now. When the final attack goes forward, you must charge their flank and break them. Once the flank goes their whole line will collapse. I’m sure of it.’
‘You can count on us, sir.’ Maxwell saluted.
‘I
‘Yes, sir. Amply.’
‘Then you have your orders. Carry them out.’
Once again, Arthur took a position beside the 78th and a peculiar stillness hung over the plain. The sun was sinking towards the horizon and a golden slanted light threw long shadows across the flattened and bloodstained grass of the battlefield. He drew a deep breath and raised his hat in the air.
‘The line will advance!’
Harness bellowed the order to his men, and then it was repeated across each battalion as the redcoats marched towards the enemy, in echelon as before. On the far right of the line the shrill cry of cavalry trumpets sounded as Maxwell, at the head of his men, charged towards the men closest to Assaye, now held by the survivors of the 74th. In his excited state Maxwell had led his men at an oblique angle to the enemy line and before he could correct the direction his men instinctively edged away so that the whole force charged along the front of Scindia’s remaining battalions, under fire, before they reached open ground some distance beyond.
Arthur cursed the man, but at least the cavalry had inadvertently covered the advance of the infantry and they emerged from the clouds of dust kicked up by the horses close enough to halt and deliver a crashing volley before the enemy could react. The shock was too much for Scindia’s men and before the British battalions could decide the final stage of the battle with the bayonet, the enemy turned and fled in a single mass, surging into the waters of the Juah. The redcoats pursued them to the water’s edge and halted, too tired to go any further and with their bloodlust finally sated after the day’s awful slaughter. Instead, they set down their weapons and drank greedily from the water, before refilling their canteens for the first time since the previous day.
Arthur watched the fleeing enemy for a while longer as they disappeared into the twilight. Then he turned to survey the battlefield, strewn with bodies and abandoned guns. In the distance there was still an occasional explosion from the enemy’s ammunition tumbrils where some slow fuses had set fire to the gunpowder-laden vehicles abandoned by the enemy. Scindia’s army had lost every artillery piece. The trained battalions of regulars he had set so much store by had all been shattered and driven from the field.The victory was as complete as it could be, Arthur reflected. His men had proved their superiority over the enemy beyond any doubt, and word of this battle would soon reach every corner of India, and beyond. It took a moment for his exhausted mind to register that more than a battle had been won. Britain was now the undisputed master of the subcontinent.
There was still much to do to cement the victory, to settle scores with the remnants of the Mahratta warlords still opposed to Britain, but the end was inevitable. As Arthur turned away from the river to give orders for the men to camp in the open near Assaye a leaden weariness settled on him. At last, long after night had fallen, he stumbled through long lines of slumbering and snoring men towards the small farmhouse he had chosen for his headquarters. The men’s sleep was far from peaceful and several times he heard voices cry out suddenly as men woke with a start, troubled by nightmare visions of the battle.
By then Arthur had been given a provisional butcher’s bill. Over a quarter of his army had been killed or wounded, including Maxwell who had been shot from his saddle as he led his men in their final, poorly executed charge. Seldom had a victory been won with such a high proportion of losses, he reflected sadly as he finally settled down on some straw in a corner of the barn with the other senior officers. But then seldom had a new empire been created for the loss of so few men. For it was true. Between them, he and Richard had forged an empire from this vast expanse of land.When they had arrived, British possessions had been but small inroads on the map of the subcontinent. Now British influence, British trade, British law and British armies would cross India at will and bring peace and order on a scale to equal all the lands and peoples of Europe.
It was a heady vision. Almost too great a success for Arthur to comprehend, and at length his weary mind slipped into a deep sleep even as he sat, leaning against the rough mud plaster wall. There Fitzroy found him a short while later, once he had completed the battle report in his notebook. Fitzroy gazed down at the tired face, and realised for the first time the great strain that the campaign had placed on his friend. He smiled as he took off his jacket and laid it gently over his commander.
‘Rest, my general,’ he said softly. ‘You have earned it.’
Chapter 69
Arthur allowed two days for his army to recover their strength. While the survivors rested, the injured - over a thousand men - were loaded on to carts and wagons and escorted back to a makeshift hospital at Naulniah. Soldiers scoured the battlefield to collect abandoned weapons and equipment. The engineers dug graves for the British dead outside Assaye.The enemy fallen were counted and then piled into great pits and covered over. Scindia’s artillery was examined and the best guns were incorporated into the British artillery train, while the rest were loaded with a double charge and wedged shots and then had their barrels burst after Arthur’s gunners lit delayed fuses and retired to a safe distance. On the third day Arthur formed the army up and set off in pursuit of Scindia.
The route the warlord had taken was marked by a wide trail of abandoned equipment and baggage carts, and the bodies of those who had died from injuries taken at Assaye. There were more casualties inflicted by the villagers lining the route who had endured many years of raids at the hands of the Mahrattas, and now took their bloody revenge on the stragglers who fell behind what was left of Scindia’s army. As the enemy fell back, Scindia divided his force in two, sending a large body of men to defend his fortress at Gawilghur while the remainder finally turned to face the British once again on the plains of Argaum.
The redcoats formed lines and moved forward with their artillery in close support, pausing at close range to blast gaping holes in the dense mass of Mahratta troops, and then charging home with the bayonet. The experience of Assaye had badly shaken them, and now their resolve crumbled completely and the army of Scindia was shattered for ever. Gawilghur was taken in December and then, at the end of the month, Scindia’s envoys signed a peace treaty. His army was to be dissolved and a garrison of several Company battalions was to be established at his capital. Large expanses of Mahratta territory were ceded to Britain and henceforth Scindia was obliged to accept British arbitration over any disputes that might arise between him and the rulers of neighbouring states.
As Arthur composed his report to Richard there was little emotion left in him to celebrate the end of the war. There was no doubt, even in his mind - so resolved to underplay his achievements - that the victories his army had
