The Flashman Papers 09 - Flashman and the Mountain of Light

clutching the mane, the horse made a long stagger and recovered—but it was dead lame and hobbling, and as I swept by I swung him clear by his waistband, heaving him across before me. Out of the tail of my eye l saw the lancers swinging up the slope a bare furlong behind us, Jassa's pistol cracked—and dead ahead, glorious sight, riders were racing down from the Jupindar rocks, two long files at the gallop, riding wide, one circling in behind us, and the other swinging out in a great arc to envelop our pursuers.

I never saw it better done. There were five hundred of 'em if there was one— gorracharra, by the look of them, and going like thunderbolts. There were yells of confusion in our rear, and as I steadied my screw and looked back, the lancers were closing on each other in fair disorder, sewn heat as a cat in a bag by those two lines of irregular horsemen, enclosing them front, flanks, and rear. Well met by moonlight, thinks I; you have some capable pals, Gardner. Little Dalip had scrambled to a sitting position before me, clapping and piping cheers at the top of his voice, and Jassa and Ahmed were reining up alongside.

There was a hail from above and ahead of us, and I saw that there was a narrow gorge in the rocks, and at its mouth a little knot of horsemen in mail and with lanced pennons; overhead a standard was fluttering, and to the fore was a burly old stager in spiked helm and steel backand-breast who raised a hand and roared a greeting.

'Salaam, maharaj'! Salaam Flashman bahadur! Sat-sree-akal!'

His companions took up the cry, advancing to meet us, but Did had eyes only for their leader, grinning all over his ruddy face and white whiskers, sitting his pony at ease for all that he had only one foot in the stirrup; the other, swathed in bandages, rested in a silken sling hanging from his saddle-bow.

'Well met again, Afghan-killer!' cries Goolab Singh.

'Sure people' would meet us, Gardner had said, and like a simpleton I'd taken his word without a thought. He was such a square-shooting white man, you see, and I was so used to thinking of him as a faithful ally and friend —well, he'd saved my hide twice—that I'd clean overlooked that he had other allegiances in the tangled web of Punjabi politics. Well, he'd done me brown—and Hardinge and Lawrence; we'd plucked Dalip Singh out of Lahore just so that he could be dropped into the lap of the whiskered old bandit beaming at me across the fire.

'Think not harshly of Gurdana Khan,' says he soothingly. 'He has not betrayed thee—or the Malki lat; rather has he done thee a service.'

'I can see me convincing Sir Henry Hardinge of that!' says I. 'Of all the double-dyed Yankee fakers —'

'Nay, nay now! Only consider: Mai Jeendan, rightly fearing for her son's safety, wished to put him under British protection—good! On her behalf, Gurdana Khan set the thing in train with your folk—good! But then, as my friend and agent, he bethought him that the child would be even better in the keeping of … myself. Why? Because once the Khalsa heard that their king was in the hands of the British, they would smell treason—aye, they might even cut Mai Jeendan's pretty throat, and set up some new Maharaja who would carry on this plaguey war for years.' He wagged his wicked head, looking smug, 'But now, when they learn that I, the admired Goolab, hold the child, they will think no evil. Why, they have lately offered me the throne, and the Wazirship, and command of the Khalsa, and I know not what, so well do they respect me! But I have no such ambitions—what, to king it in Lahore, and find a quick grave like Jawaheer, and all those other fortunate occupants of that throne of serpents? Not I, friend! Kashmir will do for me—the British will confirm me there, but never in Lahore —'

You think they will—after this? You've used us, and Gardner's aided and abetted you —'

'And what harm is done? The child is as safe with me as in his mother's bosom—safer, by God, there is less traffic—and when this war is over I shall have the credit of leading him by the hand into the presence of the Malki- lat!' crows the old villain. 'Think of the good will I shall earn! I shall have proved my loyalty to my Maharaja and the British alike!'

And I'd been sneaking about Lahore Fort in peril of my life, conspiring and kidnapping and being hounded by Khalsa lancers, just so that this ancient iniquity could cut a dash in the last act.

'Why the devil did Gardner have to bring us into it at all? Couldn't you have lifted the boy for yourself?'

'Mai, Jeendan would never have allowed it. She trusts me not,' says he, shrugging, all innocent-like. 'Only to Flashman bahadur would she yield up her precious ewe lamb—ah, what it is to be young and straight and lusty … and British!' He twinkled at me approvingly, shaking with laughter, and refilled my cup with brandy. 'Your health, soldier! What, we have stood together, you and I, and heard the cold steel sing! You'll never grudge old Goolab the chance to stand well with your masters!'

That was gammon. For one thing, I'd no choice, and the plain fact was that in Dalip, the only Maharaja acceptable to all parties, he now held the trump card. He'd been trafficking with us for months, while hedging his bets with the Khalsa, and now that the dice had finally fallen in our favour, he was making sure that he could dictate his own terms. And Hardinge could only swallow it and look pleasant—why shouldn't he? With Dalip and Jeendan secure in Lahore, and Goolab confirmed in Kashmir, the north-west frontier would be safe as never before.

'And it will be only for a day or two at most,' he went on. 'Then I shall take Dalip Maharaja and place him in the Sirkar's arms. Aye, Flashman, the war is done. The Khalsa is bought and sold, and not by Tej Singh only. They think themselves secure in their strong position at Sobraon, where even the Jangi fat can hardly assail them, be his guns ever so big—they still dream of sweeping on to Delhi!' He leaned forward, grinning like a fat tiger. 'And even now, plans of those fine fortifications are on their way to White Coat Gough—aye, by tomorrow your engineers will know every trench and tower, every rampart and gun emplacement, in that fine trap the Khalsa have built for themselves in. the elbow of the river! Their fortress? Their coffin, rather! For not a man of them shall escape … and the Khalsa will be no more than an evil memory!' He filled his cup again, drank, and licked his lips, Pickwick in a puggaree, nodding benevolently at me. 'That is my gift to your government, bahadur! Is it enough, think you? Will it set the seal on Kashmir for me? ⁴⁵

There's a point, you know, where treachery is so complete and unashamed that it becomes statesmanship. Given a shift of fortune, at Moodkee or Ferozeshah, and this genial, evil old barbarian would have been heart and soul with the Khalsa, leading 'em on to Delhi, no doubt. As it was, he was ensuring their slaughter, and revelling in the prospect, like the cruel savage that he was. I often wish I could have introduced him to Otto Bismarck; a fine matched pair they'd have made.

Well, he had shored up his credit with our side, sure enough, with little Dalip in his hands for good measure. That was his affair, and I wished him joy of it; my own concern was that I'd failed in my own immediate mission, thanks to him and Gardner, and what was I going to tell Hardinge?

'Why, that ye had the child safe, but were hard pressed by Khalsa riders, when in the nick of time came loyal Goolab to snatch thee and him to safety! Is it not true, after all? And perforce ye must leave the lad with Goolab, who would nowise part with him, fearing for his safety with all these Khalsa bravos loose about the country!' He chuckled and drank again, wiping his whiskers; you never saw roguery so pleased with itself. 'it will make a brave tale … so that ye tell it right.' He fixed me with a meaning eye. 'It will profit us all, Flash-man sahib.'

I asked, pretty sour, how it could profit me, and he gave me a leery look. 'What would ye have that the King of Kashmir can give … when he comes into his own? There Is rich employment, if you wish it, up yonder. Aye, and a warm welcome from that bonny widow, my good-sister. Think on it, bahadur.

Ironic, wasn't it—a queen hoping to wed me, a king offering me golden rewards, when all my worldly ambition was to step from Colaba Causeway to the deck of a homeward-bound Indiaman, and never see their dirty, Dangerous country again. I could just thank my stars I'd come this far, to this snug camp under Jupindar rocks, testing and boozing by Goolab's fire, with little Dalip fast asleep in a tent close by (Goolab had fairly grovelled to him, but the lordly mite had been too fagged to do more than accept it coolly and curl up), and the Khalsa lancers disarmed and under guard; they'd taken it without a Murmur, once they'd discovered who their captor was. Thus far in safety, and in the meantime all I could do was slope off over the river and report failure to Hardinge—he'd enjoy that.

To my surprise, I slept sound at Jupindar, and it was after noon when I broke the news to Dalip that he would not be coming with me to the Sirkar's army after all, but must stay awhile with his