o’clock. Hervey would have preferred the evening, of course, but he would then have had to make his excuses with the Somerviles. He bathed and then dressed, inconspicuously as if intent on a buying visit to the bazaar, and slipped away from his bungalow unobserved except for the chowkidar, who made low namaste but did not speak.
In less than half an hour Hervey reached the Suhrawardi gate and met the boy. It was the sleeping time, and the Paterghatta was uncrowded. He felt awkward, but no one seemed to take any notice as they walked purposefully through the gate and along drowsy streets to a house like any other, distinguished only by a blue door. The boy pushed it open and gestured him on. Hervey gave him a few annas and muttered a thank-you.
Inside seemed dark after the bright sun. An old woman appeared from behind a painted screen, looked at him and then beckoned to a young woman to come from behind it. Even in the dimness Hervey could see she was as promised, a handsome girl, clean and shapely. And he could see what she was not: nothing which recalled Henrietta, the only thing he had really feared.
They sat awhile drinking tea, speaking a little English and even less Bengali. When there was nothing more to say, they rose and she led him up rickety stairs to a small room with white walls, long muslin curtains at the shuttered windows and a bed with clean white linen. Her skin was lighter than the Madrasi girls he had so admired, but her eyes were darker. And they were big. She was perhaps twenty. He said nothing, though his heart hammered, and she likewise made not a sound. With a modesty that only increased his desire, she began taking the slides from her hair.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. RUMOURS OF WAR
Hervey stood at the front of his bungalow taking in the glories of another Bengal daybreak, fuller in promise, perhaps, than any he had known elsewhere. A sun low but already warming, a mist in the distant hills, the civil lines coming slowly to life — there were gentlemen at home in England, he considered, whose crabbed lives would be made immeasurably the better for just one of these mornings.
He felt better than he had expected to. Maybe the guilt would come later. The girl had been tender to him, and for a while he had not been quite so alone. He wondered how long the feeling would last, how long it would be until he had to renew it, and whether guilt would overtake it before then.
‘Mornin’, Cap’n ’Ervey, sir.’
Hervey returned Johnson’s salute and took the reins from him. He sprang easily into the saddle, compensating for Gilbert’s habitual sidestep as he did so, and collected him onto the bit. How good it was to be able to ride with a simple snaffle, for relaxed though the regimental regime was in comparison with its predecessor, a bridoon was still the regulation. ‘I thought we’d ride over to see Skinner’s Horse at exercise. I heard they were tentpegging this morning.’
Before Johnson could reply, the orderly serjeant hailed them from across the maidan. ‘Captain Hervey, sir!’ There was just a note of urgency in it. Corporal Mossop was doubling, but that said nothing: an NCO would not keep an officer waiting on any account.
‘Nothing serious, I hope, Corporal Mossop?’ said Hervey with a smile, as the orderly serjeant came to a halt before him.
‘Not that I’m aware of, sir. Mr Somervile sends his compliments sir, and asks if you would call on him at once.’
Serious or not, it was clearly urgent. ‘Very well, Corporal Mossop. Thank you. Come on, Johnson; we’d better see what agitates the lieutenant-governor.’
Somervile did not so much look agitated as troubled. ‘Come in, Hervey, come in,’ he said, hardly looking up from his desk as he wrote. ‘Take a seat, call for some coffee. I’ll be finished in a moment.’
Hervey did as he was bid. There was no sign of Emma, just the babu and a bearer. When the coffee came he took his cup and asked Somervile if he wanted any.
‘No. Later perhaps,’ he replied briskly, waving a sheet of paper about. When the ink was dry he gathered up the other two sheets and put them unfolded into a large envelope, which he sealed with wax and placed in a leather despatch case, locking it with a key attached to his watch chain. ‘The hircarrah, Mohan. He should still be in the cantonments,’ he said simply, handing the case to the babu. Then he rose, dismissed the bearer and moved to the other side of the table to sit in the armchair next to Hervey.
‘I take it that something’s amiss?’
Somervile shook his head and raised his eyebrows. ‘I can scarcely believe it. Bagyidaw must be insane!’
‘He’s marched into Cachar?’
Somervile shook his head again. ‘No. He’s making threats against
‘Sovereignty in Chittagong?’
‘Yes. I had a despatch from Calcutta in the early hours by Governor-General’s messenger. He’s taking back my assessment. I just don’t understand why Bagyidaw sees it opportune
‘Do you think he’s testing the Company’s resolve, then?’
‘That is what I’ve suggested to Calcutta, although we can’t proceed on such a supposition alone. I’ve asked for a brigade at once. We must at least make a show.’
‘Yes,’ said Hervey, standing up and going to the map on the wall. ‘That much would serve both needs. Where should they best go?’
‘I was going to ask
Hervey was a little taken aback. ‘My purlieus these past months have been the exercise ground. I could only hazard an opinion from the map.’
‘My own knowledge is not extensive, Hervey, and your opinion from a map will be better than mine.’
Hervey returned to his chair. ‘Do we know anything of Burman dispositions? Or their equipment and how they fight?’
‘I don’t believe my office does, no. But the Arakanese will. It goes against the intent of my own mission here, but we shall have to enlist their support — at least, their intelligence. I wish their Chin Payan were still alive, for all the trouble he gave us.’
‘How long do you suppose it will take for Calcutta to despatch a brigade?’
‘I’ve asked for immediate advice in that respect. I have a fear it will not be as prompt as is necessary. There’s no standing force in East Bengal at present, as far as I know; they’re all deployed.’
Hervey had thought it might be the case. He knew his own brigade would be in the field still. ‘Colonel Piven will be back next week. That’s something.’
‘He has a very good knowledge of the frontiers; that much is certain. He would have an idea about where to strengthen our patrols, I suppose.’ Somervile sighed. ‘What I need is two brigades of cavalry and horse artillery. If we surprised the Burmans with a prodigious amount of fire we might well drive them back.’
Hervey nodded. ‘That relies on very fine intelligence. We were humbugged at Waterloo — and that was with some of the best officers at work.’
‘We had better make a start, then. I’ll send word for the leaders of the Arakanese here in the city to come at once; and the more distant ones we shall have to see as they show. Let us meet here again at noon.’
Johnson waved his hand violently across his face. ‘Bastard flies! These are worse than them in Madras.’
Hervey agreed. What their provenance was he could not conclude: there was not a living thing in miles on this plain. ‘Let’s trot again,’ he sighed. ‘Perhaps they’ll give up this time.’
They had come a good way from the lines, but it had been worth it to see the sowars of Colonel Skinner’s regiment of siladar cavalry. Their skill with the lance was breathtaking, equalled only by their horsemanship. Both Johnson and Hervey admitted they had never seen the like. But they had been paying the price since with the
