Part 15 (1/2)
”Were they able to reach Burnes's house?”
”I am afraid they were not.” Fitzgerald's voice, level and calm, seemed at odds with the severity of his news. ”From the moment they entered the city, they were hemmed in on all sides, perfect targets for the marksmen on the rooftops.
”Of course they were closely formed into infantry squares,” he added without emotion.
Infantry squares? Mariana frowned. Why had they used the square formation during street firing? A solid block of soldiers had served Lord Wellington well enough against the French cavalry at Waterloo, but surely this had been a very different sort of battle. Mariana frowned. Why had they used the square formation during street firing? A solid block of soldiers had served Lord Wellington well enough against the French cavalry at Waterloo, but surely this had been a very different sort of battle.
”And the six-pounders,” Fitzgerald went on, ”were no use at all in that cramped s.p.a.ce. Even properly trained gunners could not have aimed them at the rooftops at such short range. They were fired only once, into some houses in front, where the road turned, but that was all. Worse, both guns were abandoned, with only one of them spiked and disabled. The other one is in enemy hands-”
His voice trailed away.
”Has Brigadier Shelton gone to the Bala Hisar yet?” Uncle Adrian asked.
”Yes.” When Fitzgerald dropped his voice, Mariana pressed closer to the door. ”When I met him on the road with his troops, I found him in a terrible state. He seemed almost beside himself, not knowing how to act when he got there. He asked me me what to do.” what to do.”
”He asked you? you? But he is our But he is our second-in-command.” second-in-command.”
Fitzgerald sighed audibly. ”When I said that if it were up to me, I would enter the city at once, and rescue Burnes, he replied quite sharply that his force was inadequate, and that I did not seem to understand street firing.”
”What is is the matter with everyone?” Uncle Adrian murmured. the matter with everyone?” Uncle Adrian murmured.
”At least General Elphinstone is reinforcing the garrison at the commissariat fort.”
Mariana had almost forgotten that foolhardy lack of planning- storing all the food supplies and much of the army's ammunition outside the cantonment walls, in an unoccupied fort across the road from a walled garden that would make a perfect staging ground for a siege.
”Sir William has called for General Sale to return with his brigade and the rest of our guns,” Fitzgerald added. ”With his help we will easily defeat the insurgents.”
”I am glad to hear that.”
A chair sc.r.a.ped back. ”I must beg your leave to return to my duties,” the lieutenant said heavily, ”as I have been charged with seeing to our defenses. But I want to extend the younger officers' thanks to you and Mott for stating our case so eloquently this morning. Although I am certain we shall hold out until General Sale returns,” he went on quietly, as a second chair creaked, ”I cannot help feeling concern for you, Mrs. Lamb, and Miss Givens. I wish there were a way to spirit you and your family back to India before things become worse.”
”You are very kind, Fitzgerald,” Uncle Adrian replied grimly, ”but I have my duty to perform. As for my wife and Miss Givens, as much as I would like to do so, I cannot imagine a safe way to send two British ladies anywhere.”
Fitzgerald's footfall was perilously near the door. ”I understand your feelings, sir,” he said, as Mariana poised, ready for flight. ”If I think of a way to remove the ladies, I shall tell you immediately.”
THAT NIGHT she sat on her bed, a lamp burning on a table beside her, Haji Khan's little roll of paper open on her knees.
You have more to decide than who is to be your husband, he had declared, as if the whole business of her marriage were only a minor footnote or a punctuation mark in the story of her life. But what could be more important than whom she married? Did not that decision carry with it whole worlds to gain or to lose?
Perhaps it did, but at this moment she also wondered if she, Uncle Adrian, and Aunt Claire would survive the insurgency.
Haji Khan had told her that if she recited the durood, she would receive the answers to all her questions. She tried to recapture his face, to read his expression in retrospect, but could conjure up only the irritation in his voice.
”Heavenly Father, please forgive me if this is wrong,” she whispered. ”But I do not know what else to do.”
She closed her eyes and began.
”In number as many as the numerous things created,” she concluded a moment later. she concluded a moment later.
”As deep as the fulfillment of the soul's longing, As glorious as the embellishment of the high heavens, And as powerful as the Affirmation of Faith.”
Nothing happened. No answer appeared. No picture rose in her mind's eye, not even a quickly vanis.h.i.+ng image. But, she wondered, had she detected a lessening of her fears, a subtle hint of new confidence in the face of peril?
She must recite the durood for ten more days. Who knew what would have occurred by the time she finished, but if Haji Khan had meant what he said, she would know more than she did now. Whether this new information would concern her future marriage or something more serious, only time would tell.
LATE THAT night, a group of shrouded male figures crept along the alley behind Burnes's still smoldering house, torches flickering in their hands. When they reached the vicinity of its low back door, Burnes's Afghan friend Naib Sharif spread a cloth on the packed earth of the lane. Retching as they worked, he and his men found the remains of Burnes's poor, dismembered body, and gathered them one by one, onto the cloth.
”I will see to your burial, my dear, foolish Eskandar,” Sharif vowed in a whisper as he and his men carried their reeking burden away into the darkness.
November 6, 1841 We must pack at once.” By the light of her candle, Aunt Claire's face was gray with fright. ”A messenger has come from the cantonment with orders to evacuate the Residence compound.”
Mariana sat up, blinking. ”What time is it?” she asked.
”It's nearly five-thirty in the morning. We are to leave the Residence compound by nine o'clock. They are saying we are not safe here.”
Two braids hung down beneath Aunt Claire's lace nightcap. Mariana had not realized how thin her aunt's hair had become.
”The Macnaghtens are to stay with Lady Sale,” Aunt Claire added over her shoulder as she shuffled away, the lamp swaying in her hand. ”We are to occupy officers' quarters.”
Half an hour later, Dittoo backed through Mariana's door with her coffee tray. He was close to tears. ”What has happened, Bibi?” he cried, the coffee things clattering as he put the tray down with trembling hands. ”Why must we leave our house?”
”I don't know, Dittoo,” she replied. ”I can only say that we must do it.”
”But they are saying that your Muns.h.i.+ Sahib and the rest of us must live in tents.” His voice broke. ”I want to go home to India, Bibi. It is so cold here-”
”I will see that you all have warm quilts,” she interrupted hastily, fearing her own feelings might show. ”And now, go downstairs and help with the kitchen things. And do not forget to pack the sheets and towels,” she called after him.
When he was gone, she sat on the edge of her bed and dropped her head into her hands.
What had become of her people, the bravest, most sensible people on earth? How had they failed to recognize the terrible danger of interfering with people they did not understand? Now, faced with the violent consequences of their actions, why were they so weak-kneed?
And why could they not see that innocents like Dittoo and her poor, terrified aunt would be forced to pay the unfair price of their folly?
She forced herself to her feet and began to pack.
They would all be lucky, she thought, as she tucked Haji Khan's paper securely into her bodice, if that price were no more than the misery of living in a barracks, or a tent in the snow.
”Captain Sturt was stabbed in the face yesterday, by a courtier at the Bala Hisar,” her uncle told her two hours later, as they stood waiting for their horses. ”His tongue and face were paralyzed. For hours he could neither swallow nor speak. Lady Sale and her daughter have nursed him all night. Thank G.o.d, he is now expected to recover.”
Uncle Adrian looked puffy-eyed, as if he, too, had not slept. ”It seems that the Afghans are gathering in large numbers. The road between here and the city is full of armed villagers on their way to join the uprising. Please say nothing about this to your aunt. I cannot wait for General Sale and the First Brigade to arrive.”
The horses had come. Yar Mohammad led Mariana's mare to the mounting steps, his demeanor as calm and watchful as always. He must have worn that same expression as he led her safely from Haji Khan's house, his long kukri knife ready in his hand.
He had been her faithful protector for two years: a bony-faced mountain villager who never seemed to hurry, but whose quick action had once saved her when she was bitten by a snake, and who had guarded her from the child thief who had come all those months ago to steal Saboor.
Every time Mariana looked at Yar Mohammad, or at blunt, faithful Ghulam Ali, she thought of Lah.o.r.e, and Saboor, and of Ha.s.san Ali Khan.