In the City of Gold and Silver by Kenizé Mourad, Anne Mathai in collaboration with Marie-Louise Naville

represent, has decided the king, my son, is no longer fit to reign?”
    â€œThat is true, Your Majesty.”
    â€œIs it true that it has decided to relieve him of all powers and take over the administration of the state?”
    â€œIt is true.”
    â€œAnd if the king refuses, is it true that the Company has decided to annexe our state by force?”
    â€œIt is true, Your Majesty, but I dare hope we will not have to resort to such extremes.”
    â€œAnd how so, Mr. Resident?”
    â€œIt is very simple. The king has only to abdicate and the Honourable Company, in its clemency, will grant him a generous pension of one hundred and fifty thousand rupees, and will permit him to retain his titles and authority over his Court.”
    After a long silence, the Queen Mother’s husky voice rises. Ignoring protocol, she addresses the resident directly.
    â€œWhat crimes has my son committed? How has he provoked the wrath of the British government, for whom he has only respect and admiration? Tell me, sir, what he must do and I promise he will follow every instruction to the letter!”
    â€œI regret, Your Majesty, but these are the orders. I can only follow them.”
    â€œYou can at least convey a message to the Governor General Lord Dalhousie. Tell him the king is only too willing to administer his state in accordance with the governor general’s directives, if he would kindly define them clearly.”
    â€œThe king has already made such promises. The Company has been very patient, now it is too late.”
    The Queen Mother is silent for a moment, overwhelmed, then:
    â€œI see now, sir, that my son is condemned. But if the British government does not consider him fit to reign, why not appoint his brother, Mirza Sekunder Hashmat, in his place, or his son?”
    Taken unawares, Colonel Outram remains silent. The proposal makes sense. He has no valid answer to oppose it. Except that Lord Dalhousie will never . . . He mumbles:
    â€œI do not see . . . how this would be to your advantage?”
    The dark silhouette straightens.
    â€œNot to our personal advantage sir, but at least the kingdom of Awadh would endure, and our name would not be dishonoured!”
    â€œI am sorry, Your Majesty, London’s decision is final and irrevocable. I have come here to request you to persuade the king to agree. If he signs, he will live opulently, with nothing more to worry about. If he refuses, he will lose his kingdom and his whole fortune. We are convinced that as a mother, you will want to ensure your son’s and all his dependents’ welfare. Besides, you will have an independent income for yourself, as the Company is offering to pay you a pension of a hundred thousand rupees.”
    â€œEnough!”
    A harsh voice pierces the dark veil:
    â€œWhat gives you the right to be so insolent? How dare you try to bribe me so that I will convince the king to abdicate and bring this dishonour upon himself! For you Angrez nothing matters but money! Do you think we have not understood your game? You have long coveted Awadh’s wealth and whatever my son might have done, he had no hope of satisfying you!”
    With an abrupt sweep of the hand, the Queen Mother indicates to Sir James that the interview is over.
    As the Turkish guards surround the resident to escort him away, the slim black figure, who is none other than Hazrat Mahal sitting beside the Queen Mother, leans towards her:
    â€œHe is white with rage, Huzoor, he will take his revenge.”
    â€œWell, my daughter, they are stealing our country, what more can they do? I have been far too patient. When this lout insulted me, I had to stop myself from ordering my Amazons to whip him! When I think that a hundred years ago, the Queen Mother of Awadh, Begum Sadr-i-Jahan, travelled in a palanquin carried by a dozen British prisoners . . . Alas! How times have changed . . . ”

6
    D ay after day, the British