creature of the Sirkar — and yet …' she suddenly knelt down in front of me, and caught my hands, and there was a look in her great almond eyes that made even my experienced old heart skip a beat '… and yet, I knew that you were not like the others. You were gentle, and kind, and you seemed to understand. And then … that day when we fenced, in the durbar room … I felt something inside me that — that I had not known before. And later … '
'In the pavilion,' says I, hoarsely. 'Oh, Lakshmi, that was the most wonderful moment of my life! Really capital, don't ye know … beat everything … darling, couldn't you untie my hands a second…?'
Just for an instant there was a strange, distant look in her eyes, and then she turned her head away, and her hands tightened on mine.
'… and when you disappeared, and I thought you dead, there was such an emptiness.' She was trying not to cry. 'And nothing else seemed to matter — not I, or Jhansi, even. And then came news of the red wind, sweeping through the British garrisons in the north — and even here, in my own state, they killed them all, and I was helpless.' She was biting her lip, staring pleadingly at me, and if she'd been before the House of Lords the old goats would have been roaring 'Not guilty, on my honour!' with three times three. 'And what could I do? It seemed that the Raj — and I hated the Raj! — was falling, and my own cousin, Nana, was raising the standard of revolt, and to stand idle was to lose Jhansi, to the jackals of Orcha or Gwalior, or even to the sepoys themselves … oh, but you are British, and you cannot understand!'
'Dearest,' says I, 'you don't have to excuse yourself to me, of all people. What else could you do?' It wasn't an idle question, either; the only treason is to pick the wrong side, which, in the long run, she had done. 'But it doesn't matter, you see — that's why I'm here! It can all come right again — at least, you can be saved, and that's what counts.'
She looked at me and said simply: 'I do not care, now that you have come back.' And she leaned forward and kissed me again, gently, on the lips.
'You must care,' says I. 'See here — I've come from
General Rose, and what he says comes straight from Lord Canning in Calcutta. They want to save you, my dear, if you'll let them.'
'They want me to surrender,' says she, and stood up. She walked away to set the cup down on a table, and the sight of the tight-wrapped sari stirring over those splendid hips set my fingers working feverishly at the knots behind my back. She turned, with her bosom going up like balloons, and her face was set and sad. 'They want me to give up my Jhansi.'
'Darling — it's lost anyway. Any day now they'll storm the walls, and that's the end. You know it — and so must your advisers. Even Ignatieff — what the devil's he doing here, anyhow?'
'He has been here — and at Meerut and Delhi — every-where, since the beginning. Promising Russian help — making rebellion, as you say, on his master's behalf.' She made a little helpless gesture. 'I do not know … there has been talk of a Russian army over the Khyber — some would welcome it; myself … I fear it — but it does not matter, now. He remains, I suppose, as long as he may do your government some harm … if Jhansi falls, he will go to Tantia or Nana.' And she added, with a shrugged afterthought that somehow prickled my spine. 'Unless I have him killed, for what he has done to you.'
All in good time, thinks I, happily, and got back to the matter in hand.
'But it isn't Jhansi they want — it's you.' She opened her eyes at that, and I hurried on. 'They can't make terms with rebels — why, half your garrison must be pandies, with nothing to hope for; there's no pardon for them, you see. So they'll storm the city, whatever you do. But they want to save you alive — if you will give yourself up, alone, then … then they won't —' I couldn't meet her eye, though ' — punish you.'
'Why should they spare me?' For a minute the fire was back in her eye. 'Who else have they spared? Why should they want to keep me alive — when they blow men away from guns, and hang them without trial, and burn whole cities? Will they spare Nana or Tantia or Azeemoolah — then why the Rani of Jhansi?'
It wasn't an easy one to answer — not truthfully, anyway. She wouldn't take it too kindly if I said it was just politics, to keep the public happy.
'Does it matter?' says I. 'Whatever their reasons …
'Is it because I am a woman?' She said it softly, and came to stand in front of me. 'And the British do not make war on women.' She looked steadily at me for several seconds. 'Is it because I am beautiful? And do they wish to take me to London, as the Romans did with their captives, and show me as a spectacle to the people —'
'That ain't our style,' says I, pretty sharp. 'Of course, we don't make war on women … and, well, you see, you're — well, you're different —'
'To them? To Lord Canning? To General Rose? They do not know me. Why should they care? Why should any of you …' And then she stopped, and dropped to her knees again, and her lip was trembling. 'You? Have you spoken — for me? You came from Lord Palmerston — have you asked them to save me?'
By George, here was an unexpected ball at my foot, with a vengeance. It hadn't crossed my mind that she'd think I was behind Rose's remarkable offer. But when the chance arises, I hope I know how to grasp it as well as the next man — carefully. So I looked at her, steady and pretty grim, and made myself go red in the face, and then looked down at the carpet, all dumb and noble and unspoken emotion. She put out a hand and lifted my chin, and she was absolutely frowning at me.
'Did you — and have you risked so much, to come here — for me? Tell me.'
'You know what I think about you,' says I, trying to look romantically stuffed. 'I've loved you since the moment I clapped eyes on you — on that swing. More than anything else in the world.'
At that moment, mind you, it wasn't all gammon. I did love her — pretty well, anyway, just then. Not as much as Elspeth, I dare say — although, mind you, put 'cm together, side by side, both stripped down, and you'd think hard before putting England in to bat. Anyway, I'd no difficulty in looking sincere — not with that flimsy bodice heaving almost under my nose.
She looked at me in silence, with strange, grave eyes, and then said, almost in a whisper:
'Tonight — I did not think … I only knew that you were here with me again — when I had thought you lost. It did not matter to me, whether you loved me truly or not — only that you were with me again. But now …' she was looking at me in the strangest way, sorrowfully almost, and with a kind of perplexity '… now that you tell me that it was … for love of me, that you have done this …' I wondered if she was going to fling herself on me again in tears, but after a moment she just kissed me, quite gently, and then said:
'What do they wish me to do?'
'To surrender, yourself. No more than that.'
'But how? If the city is to be taken, and there is no pardon for the mutineers, how can I —'
'Don't fret about that,' says I. 'It can all be arranged. If I tell you how — will you do it?'
'If you will stay with me — afterwards.' Her eyes were fixed on mine, soft but steady. 'I will do whatever they ask.'
Persuasively urged, Rose had said, but I'll bet he'd never envisaged the likes of this — by George, his randy staff men wouldn't have been able to believe their eyes.
'When the city is stormed,' says I, 'our fellows will fight their way in to the fortress. You must be ready to make an escape — through the Orcha Gate. We'll have drawn off our cavalry picket just there, so it can be done in safety. You must ride out on the Orcha road — and then, you will be captured. It will look as though … well, it will look all right.'
'I see.' She nodded gravely. 'And the city?'
'Well, it'll be taken, of course — but there'll be no looting —' Rose had promised that, for what it was worth '- and of course, the people will be all right, provided they lie low and don't resist. The mutineers … well, it'll all be the same for them, anyway.'
'And what will they do … with me? Will they … imprison me?'
I wasn't sure about this, and had to go careful. They'd exile her for certain, at least to a distant part of India where she could do no harm, but there was no point in telling her that. 'No,' says I. 'They'll treat you very well, you'll see. And then — it'll all blow over, don't you know? Why, I can think of a score of nig — native chieftains and kings, who've been daggers drawn with us, but their wars have got by, and then we've been the best of friends, and so forth. No hard feelings, you see — we ain't vindictive, even the Liberals …'
I was smiling to reassure her, and after a while she began smiling back, and gave a great sigh, and settled against me, seemingly content, and I suggested again that it might be a capital notion to unslip my hands, just for a
