in a cloth-of-gold coat and with a jewelled aigret in his turban, who stepped smiling across the carpet with his hand out. Moore promptly put his hands behind his back, I contented myself by hooking my thumbs into my belt, and Azeemoolah smiled even wider and withdrew his hand with a graceful flutter — Rudi Starnberg couldn't have done it better. I gave him our names, and he opened his eyes wide.
'Colonel Flashman! But this is an honour indeed! It has always been my regret that I missed you in the Crimea,' says he, flashing his teeth. 'And how is my dear old friend, Mr William Howard Russell?'
It was my turn to stare, at that; I didn't know then that this Azeemoolah was a travelled man, who spoke French and English as well as I did, had done diplomatic work in London — and gone through our sillier society women like a mad stallion at the same time. A charming, clever politician, whose urbanity masked a nature as appealing as a hooded cobra's;30 for the occasion he was acting as interpreter for the Nana, who spoke no English.
I told him, fairly cool, that we were there to receive his master's proposals, at which he sighed and spread his hands.
'Well, gentlemen, it is a most distressing business, and no one is more deeply troubled by it than his highness, which is why he has sent his note to General Wheeler, in the hope that we can put an end to all this bloodshed and suffering -
Moore interrupted at this to say that in that case it was a pity he hadn't sent his message earlier, or stayed loyal in the first place. Azeemoolah just smiled.
'But we are not talking politics, are we, Captain Moore? We are looking at military reality — which is that your gallant resistance is at an end, one way or another. His highness deplores the thought of useless slaughter; he is willing, if you will quit Cawnpore, to allow your garrison to depart with the honours of war; you shall have all necessary food and comforts for your women and children (for whom his highness is particularly concerned), and safe passage to Allahabad. It seems to me not an ungenerous offer.'
The Nana, who obviously knew the purport of what was being said, leaned forward at this, smiling greasily, and gabbled in Maharatta. Azeemoolah nodded, and went on:
'He says that baggage animals are already being collected to carry your wounded to the river, where boats will be waiting to take you all to Allahabad.'
I asked the question Wheeler wanted asked. 'What guarantees of safe-conduct does he offer?'
Azeemoolah lifted his brows. 'But are any necessary? If we intended you harm, we have only to attack, or wait. We know your situation, you see. Believe me, gentlemen, his highness is moved simply by humanity, the spirit of mercy -
Whether it was deliberately timed or not, I don't know, but his words were interrupted by the most hideous scream of agony — a drawn-out, bubbling wail from behind the grove of trees. It rang out again, and then died into an awful whimper of pain, and I felt the hairs rise on my neck. Moore almost jumped out of his boots.
'What in God's name was that?' says he.
'Maharatta diplomacy, I imagine,' says I, with a straight face and my innards dissolving. 'Someone being flayed alive, probably, for our benefit — so that we could hear, and take note.'
'… but if his highness's word is not sufficient,' Azecmoolah went on blandly, 'he would raise no objection to your carrying away your personal arms and … shall we say, twenty rounds a man? With that, you will hardly be at a greater disadvantage in the open than behind that pathetic breastwork. But I repeat, gentlemen, his highness has nothing to gain by treachery — quite the reverse. It is repugnant to him, and would be politically damaging.'
I didn't trust the bastard an inch, but I was privately inclined to agree with him. Wiping out a British garrison entire was one thing, but he could do that anyway, without luring us into the open. On the other hand, getting a British garrison to haul down its flag would be a real feather in his cap — but Azeemoolah was a mile too shrewd to say so, for nothing would have been better calculated to stiffen Wheeler's resistance.
Nana started to chatter again in Maharatta, while I tried to efface the memory of that awful scream by exchanging a long look or two with Sultana Adala — it never does any harm. Azeemoolah heard him out, and then addressed us again.
'His highness asks you to reassure General Wheeler, and to add that while you are considering his most generous proposal, he is instructing our troops to observe an armistice. I myself will come tomorrow for General Wheeler's answer.'
And that was that. Moore and I trudged back through the pandy lines — and if anything was needed to convince me that surrender was imperative it was the sight of those glowering black faces at the gun emplacements and round the bivouacs. They might look less smart and orderly than they'd done as loyal Company troops, but by God there were plenty of them, and no signs of weakening or desertion.
It was touch and go, though, when we got back to the entrenchment and reported to Wheeler what Nana's proposals were. He called a council of all the officers, and we sat or stood crowded into the stifling corner of the barrack which was his office, with the moaning of the wounded beyond the partition, and the wailing of the children, while we heard rehearsed again all the arguments that had been whispered to and fro that morning. It frightened me, I may tell you, for Wheeler was still smelling treachery, and our younger sparks were in full cry against the notion of surrender.
'We've held out this long,' cries Delafosse, 'and now they're weakening. Tell him to go to blazes, I say, and ten to one he'll raise the siege.'
There were growls of approval at this, until Vibart says:
'And if he don't raise it? What then? We'll not have a child or woman alive in this hellish place three days hence. Are you prepared to accept that?'
'Are you prepared to accept a rebel's word?' retorts )elafossc. 'While we're in a defensive position here, at least we can make sonic show against him — and he may raise the siege, or Lawrence may march. But once we accept his terms and step into the open, we're at his mercy.'
'And we'll have hauled down our flag to a pack of rebels,' says Thomson bitterly. 'How do we go home to England and tell 'em that?'
At this some cried 'Bravo!' and urged Wheeler to answer Nana with defiance, but old Ewart, who was so sick that he had to attend the council lying on a stretcher, wondered what England would say if we condemned hundreds of women and children to die in the useless defence of a couple of ruined mud buildings. The older men nodded agreement, but the youngsters shouted him down, and Delafosse repeated the argument, red in the face, that Nana must be weakening or he'd never have made the offer.
Wheeler, who'd been sitting tugging his moustache while they bickered, looks at Moore and me.
'You saw his camp, gentlemen; what opinion did you form? Is he negotiating from weakness, because his troops have lost heart?'
I'd said nothing throughout; I was biding my time, and let Moore answer. He said we'd seen no signs of flagging morale, which was true enough. Wheeler looked glum, and shook his head.
'I cannot think the Nana is to be trusted,' says he. 'And yet … it is a cruel choice. All my nature, every instinct, tells me to fight this command to the last; to die in my duty as a soldier should do, and let my country avenge me. But to do that at the cost of our loved ones' lives … already, so many … '
He broke off, and there was an uneasy silence; everyone knew that Wheeler's own son had died the day before. Finally he rubbed his face and looked round.
'If it were ourselves alone, there could be but one answer. As it is, I confess I should be tempted, for our women and children's sake, to accept this murderer's terms, were it not that my judgement tells me he will play us false. I … '
'Forgive me, sir,' says Moore, quietly, 'but if he does, we've lost nothing. For if we don't trust him, we're dead anyway — all of us. We know that, and —'
'At least we can die with honour!' cries some fool, and the younger chaps cheered like the idiots they were. At this Wheeler's head came up, and I saw his stubborn lip go out, and I thought, now, Flashy, now's your time, or the stupid old bastard will damn us all in the name of Duty and Hon-our. So I growled in my throat, and scraped my heel, and that caught his attention, just in time, and he looked at me.
'You've said nothing, Flashman,' says he. 'What is your thought?'
I felt all their eyes turn to me, and deliberately took my time, for I knew Wheeler was within an ace of deciding to fight it out to a finish, and I was going to have to humbug him, and the rest of them, into surrendering. But it was going to require my most artistic handling.
