understand your situation. Jack, I really had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Elizabeth is due to be hanged.’
Jack felt dizzy. The sound of the bees, the smell of the jasmine, the heat all swirled around him.
‘It must be a dreadful shock, I know,’ Jhala said. ‘But I can make sure Elizabeth is spared – just so long as you help us. Do you understand?’
What was happening? Was Jhala using Elizabeth as a pawn in some game? ‘I understand, sir. Can I see my daughter now?’
They arrived at the barracks in a two-horse, four-wheeled carriage covered in intricate gold designs. Jhala stared out at the plains, resting his chin on one hand, while Sengar sucked on his teeth, which made his moustache curl and uncurl like a cat stretching.
Jack sat in silence, feeling lost in a maze. He glanced at Jhala, but his old commander cleared his throat and looked away. Jack had always thought of Jhala as someone he could trust, but now he didn’t know what to think.
An icy breeze crossed his skin. Elizabeth was due to be executed.
A stone wall surrounded the main complex of the barracks. Outside the wall to the north stretched the usual vast shanty town of wooden shacks, tents and dusty marquees that housed the European troops, along with the numerous camp followers who worked as bearers, servants, orderlies and cooks.
The carriage drew up at the main gate, which was open but guarded. To the side stood a row of flagstaffs, one of which flew the standard of Jack’s old regiment – the 2nd (Maharaja’s Own) Native English Infantry. Jack looked up at the blue flag with the three red lions chasing each other in a circle. He’d meditated in front of that flag so many times. He’d believed in it.
Inside the walls lay a series of long wattle-and-daub buildings with thatched roofs. The buildings were solid but typically plain and functional. Jack had often wondered why the Rajthanans didn’t build grander structures for their armies, given how much they seemed to love pomp and ceremony. Rajthanan soldiers in turquoise tunics and turbans strode about or stood guard.
Jack, Jhala and Sengar climbed out of the carriage and walked across the flattened, dusty ground until they came to a stone building with a single arched entrance. They went up the steps and into a small foyer. It was dim inside, lit only by a few lanterns. Three guards slouched against the walls but snapped to attention when Colonel Jhala appeared.
Jhala spoke to one of the guards, then turned to Jack. ‘You can see your daughter for a few minutes.’
The guard unlocked an iron door, which groaned open, and led Jack down a gloomy corridor. To either side stood cells with bars that stretched from floor to ceiling. Men and women – all European – sat hunched on mats. Dirt streaked their faces and their clothes were tattered, as if they’d been living in the wilderness for weeks. As perhaps they had. They watched as Jack and the guard went past, some listless, some puzzled, some defiant. Most of them were silent, but a few whispered amongst themselves.
The guard stopped near the end of the corridor and pointed through the bars. Jack looked into the cell. He couldn’t see clearly at first as the only light came from a tiny window high up in the wall. Then he saw her.
She recognised him at the same time, gasped, ran up to the bars and grabbed hold of his arms. She looked thin, much thinner than when he’d last seen her, and her long dark hair was matted and greasy. She wore a torn and dirty dress and her hands were discoloured with ground-in filth. She looked like a vagrant.
‘Father . . .’ She kneaded his arms and cried dirty tears.
‘Elizabeth. What . . . what happened?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you—’
‘Why?’ He put his hand through the bars and brushed the hair away from her face.
‘I know you won’t understand, Father. We have to be free.’
‘We are free.’
‘Not in the way we could be.’ She started
Jack felt dizzy. The sound of the bees, the smell of the jasmine, the heat all swirled around him.
‘It must be a dreadful shock, I know,’ Jhala said. ‘But I can make sure Elizabeth is spared – just so long as you help us. Do you understand?’
What was happening? Was Jhala using Elizabeth as a pawn in some game? ‘I understand, sir. Can I see my daughter now?’
They arrived at the barracks in a two-horse, four-wheeled carriage covered in intricate gold designs. Jhala stared out at the plains, resting his chin on one hand, while Sengar sucked on his teeth, which made his moustache curl and uncurl like a cat stretching.
Jack sat in silence, feeling lost in a maze. He glanced at Jhala, but his old commander cleared his throat and looked away. Jack had always thought of Jhala as someone he could trust, but now he didn’t know what to think.
An icy breeze crossed his skin. Elizabeth was due to be executed.
A stone wall surrounded the main complex of the barracks. Outside the wall to the north stretched the usual vast shanty town of wooden shacks, tents and dusty marquees that housed the European troops, along with the numerous camp followers who worked as bearers, servants, orderlies and cooks.
The carriage drew up at the main gate, which was open but guarded. To the side stood a row of flagstaffs, one of which flew the standard of Jack’s old regiment – the 2nd (Maharaja’s Own) Native English Infantry. Jack looked up at the blue flag with the three red lions chasing each other in a circle. He’d meditated in front of that flag so many times. He’d believed in it.
Inside the walls lay a series of long wattle-and-daub buildings with thatched roofs. The buildings were solid but typically plain and functional. Jack had often wondered why the Rajthanans didn’t build grander structures for their armies, given how much they seemed to love pomp and ceremony. Rajthanan soldiers in turquoise tunics and turbans strode about or stood guard.
Jack, Jhala and Sengar climbed out of the carriage and walked across the flattened, dusty ground until they came to a stone building with a single arched entrance. They went up the steps and into a small foyer. It was dim inside, lit only by a few lanterns. Three guards slouched against the walls but snapped to attention when Colonel Jhala appeared.
Jhala spoke to one of the guards, then turned to Jack. ‘You can see your daughter for a few minutes.’
The guard unlocked an iron door, which groaned open, and led Jack down a gloomy corridor. To either side stood cells with bars that stretched from floor to ceiling. Men and women – all European – sat hunched on mats. Dirt streaked their faces and their clothes were tattered, as if they’d been living in the wilderness for weeks. As perhaps they had. They watched as Jack and the guard went past, some listless, some puzzled, some defiant. Most of them were silent, but a few whispered amongst themselves.
The guard stopped near the end of the corridor and pointed through the bars. Jack looked into the cell. He couldn’t see clearly at first as the only light came from a tiny window high up in the wall. Then he saw her.
She recognised him at the same time, gasped, ran up to the bars and grabbed hold of his arms. She looked thin, much thinner than when he’d last seen her, and her long dark hair was matted and greasy. She wore a torn and dirty dress and her hands were discoloured with ground-in filth. She looked like a vagrant.
‘Father . . .’ She kneaded his arms and cried dirty tears.
‘Elizabeth. What . . . what happened?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you—’
‘Why?’ He put his hand through the bars and brushed the hair away from her face.
‘I know you won’t understand, Father. We have to be free.’
‘We are free.’
‘Not in the way we could be.’ She started
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