enterprise, and they see most things in terms of the dividends which accrue to them. Were you a Company officer your decision would be a simple case of bookkeeping.’
He smiled. ‘Well, I am gratified you see the irreconcilability of it.’
‘Irreconcilable?’ She was surprised. ‘Not at all. If you accept the position under the
It seemed so simple. He wondered if Philip Lucie’s advancement in the Madras council was entirely on his own merits: his sister must have been of singular influence. But he was becoming restless with the heat, as well the debate. He stood up, saying he had troubled her long enough. ‘Shall we walk to the stables and see the Arab foal? It’s as white as snow — if you remember what that is.’
‘Oh, I remember it, Captain Hervey,’ she laughed. ‘Only when I forget it shall I feel inclined to return to England!’
There was a great commotion in the stables as they arrived. Every horse’s ear was pricked, there was whinnying in every quarter and the punkahs had stopped — the servers crowding the end doors to hear the news. A galloper from Jhansikote, a young jemadar, dust-covered, was demanding to know where the salutri was. The babble of syces, bhistis, grasscutters and sweepers made as little sense to him as to Hervey. ‘Where is the salutri!’ he tried for the fourth time.
Hervey pushed his way through the crowd, the jemadar snapping to attention as he saw him. ‘Very well, Jemadar sahib,’ he replied, touching his forehead to acknowledge, ‘what is the matter?’
The jemadar had a little English and some Urdu, and so Hervey was not long in discovering the cause. There was horse plague at Jhansikote. A dozen had already succumbed to choking, and many more were showing the same symptoms. Captain Bauer believed there would not be a horse left standing by the end of the month at this rate of contagion.
‘What is the cause of the sickness?’ asked Hervey, having managed to silence the babble.
The jemadar said they did not know. There had been no new horse arrive that might have been infected, nor had there been any change in feeding. The sickness was a mystery.
‘And Mr Selden laid low with fever, too,’ said Emma Lucie, her own Urdu quite good enough for the exchange.
Hervey nodded ruefully.
‘But we are sure he is still indisposed?’ she asked.
The ambiguity was not without its effect. ‘I had better go and find him,’ he sighed. ‘I have not seen him in two days.’ But he was already steeling himself to another ride to Jhansikote, for he could hardly expect Selden to be in hale condition, no matter how remitted was his fever.
‘What do you suppose the horse sickness might be?’ asked Emma Lucie once the jemadar had left. ‘Do you suspect an evil hand?’
‘I’ve never heard of one with such reach — that’s for sure,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But in India… as you keep saying. If the symptoms are as the jemadar describes, though, I should say glanders, or strangles perhaps — farcy, even. But who knows what fevers there are in this country? The heat alone must account for many.’
‘Glanders, strangles?’ she frowned. ‘Have you met with these before?’
‘No, I’ve never seen a case.’
‘Oh,’ she said simply.
‘Just so, Miss Lucie. Let us pray that Mr Selden is in a sufficient state of consciousness to give me some direction — for I see no other course but to go myself. I can hardly stand by here, even if I
But Selden was not in a sufficient state. He was in a delirium once more, the punkah-wallah working hard to keep the stale air in his chamber moving, and his ringleted Bengali bearer sponging his forehead devotedly. Hervey sat in the chamber for some time, hopeful of even the briefest period of consciousness in which Selden might give his opinion. What a broken reed was the salutri, he lamented. Emma Lucie’s allegations pressed themselves on him, and he found himself wondering what manner of vices and intrigues Selden had allowed himself to be drawn into. When he left him, after a full half-hour in which he had neither stirred nor made the slightest sound, his heart was heavy with the thought that even if he were to see him again, alive, it might indeed be under indictment for the sepoys’ batta. He could not by any means bring himself to contemplate the connection with the murder of Kunal Verma, but the suggestion he could not escape. He needed to find Henry Locke.
Locke was not, as the collector had sneered, in the embraces of his nautch girl, but engaged in vigorous bayonet exercises with the sepoys of the palace guard. His powerful shoulders were unmatched by any in that mock combat, and he gave fearful impulsion to the two feet of steel at the end of his musket. The entire company was assembled in a half-covered court that served as an exercise yard to see Locke the gymnasiarch, and nautch girls watched coyly from a balcony. Even in the shade the heat was oppressive, and he was in a lather as great as a pony in a gallop, his cheesecloth shirt clinging to his chest as a second skin. He was smiling, nevertheless, enjoying the exhilaration of the combat and the adulation of the sepoys. ‘So you are to be brigadier, or thereabouts,’ he said with a broad grin as Hervey came up.
‘You have heard, too? There’s nothing, it seems, that waits to be passed in the usual way.’ He handed Locke a towel. ‘I’ve not yet said “yes” though. There’s much to think about. You’re not offended, I hope, by the manner of hearing?’
Locke smiled. ‘Hervey, it was whispered in my ear by the most perfect lips I have ever tasted.’
Now Hervey smiled. At least there was one man in this princely state who took his pleasures as they came — and could face death with equal readiness. He was glad Locke had found a little happiness; no-one deserved it more.
‘So what vexes you now?’
Hervey explained the calamity that had befallen the rissalahs. ‘I intend going there at once, for Selden’s in no condition to. If they lose horses at the rate the jemadar reports then Chintal will be to all intents defenceless. The sepoys, we know, are less than wholly reliable. The Rajpoots are true, but they can’t be in two places at once.’
Locke nodded his understanding.
‘Would you take charge here?’ said Hervey, a little unsure.
He smiled. ‘If such a notion is conceivable, for it implies there’s already some order! You know, Hervey, I think these sepoys are so much wind and piss. Any boarding party from a first-rate could take this place from the lot of ’em.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Hervey, ‘perhaps so. Thank heavens the rajah has his sowars.’
Locke nodded, but the inclination of an eyebrow suggested something was amiss. ‘Are you sure about the rissalahs? Why was Steuben killed? You don’t believe it was an accident?’
‘Oh,’ said Hervey, as if the accusation touched him personally, ‘I hardly think that—’
Locke smiled wryly. ‘You mean it is inconceivable that a cavalry officer could do something so base? “
Hervey looked embarrassed, and struggled to find the right words.
‘Forget it, man!’ said Locke, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘There’s only one left anyway, isn’t there?’
‘Alter Fritz?’ exclaimed Hervey. ‘He is no more capable of anything so base than—’
‘Than anyone else who’s been deprived of Christian company for a dozen years!’
Hervey frowned. The trouble was — he knew full well — that Locke was the more prudent in this. ‘By the way,’ he whispered as he handed him another towel, ‘I’m
‘What? But I thought—’
‘I had it all out last night at great length with the collector. I’ve said nothing yet to the rajah, but there’s an officer coming here from Madras, and the collector’s sure that once the rajah meets him he’ll have every confidence. I’ll then go to Haidarabad.’
Locke seemed to disapprove. ‘And in the meantime, the rajah continues to think you will take the command?’
‘I’m not happy with that. Heaven
