‘Gentlemen, this is Colonel Wellesley.’ Kirkpatrick spoke softly as if he feared that they might be overheard. ‘Sir, may I introduce you to colonels Dalrymple and Malcolm, commanders of the two Company battalions stationed in Hyderabad.’
‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ Arthur shook their hands in turn and then eased himself down into one of the seats. ‘I trust everything has been prepared for the arrival of the reinforcements tomorrow morning.’
There was a short silence while the other officers glanced at each other. Then Malcolm spoke. ‘We have something of a problem, sir.’
‘Problem? What kind of problem?’
‘It’s the Nizam, sir. I spoke to him this afternoon, as soon as we got word of your approach from the scout. He’s decided that he does not want to disband the units commanded by French officers - not immediately, at least. It seems that word of the new treaty has got out and the officers and men are saying that he has betrayed them.’
‘Which, of course, he has,’ Arthur said acidly. ‘That was the whole point of the treaty. If he backs down now the Governor General will be furious. Did you explain that to him?’
‘I did, sir.Volubly.’
Arthur breathed deeply and exhaled to ease his tension.‘And?’
‘The Nizam was courteous enough, sir, and expressed his loyalty to his English allies at some length. But he said that it would be too great a risk to disband the French battalions without any warning. However, now that they are aware of his plans he says they are threatening to overthrow him and kick the Company battalions, and the resident, out of Hyderabad.’
‘Damn,’ Arthur muttered. ‘Damn the man. If his nerve fails now, then we face disaster. At the very least there’ll be many lives lost if we have to disband those French units by force. If it goes badly for us we will have to fight our way out.’
‘It’s not all bad news, sir,’ said Kirkpatrick. ‘The other battalions in the Nizam’s army are still loyal to him. They’re not as numerous as the French-officered units, nor as well trained and equipped, but they’ll not lift a finger to help any attempt to displace the Nizam. In fact, there’s not much love lost between the native and the French officers.’
‘That’s something.’ Arthur conceded. ‘But it’s vital that the Nizam himself gives the order for the units to disband. If he doesn’t and we are forced to do the job, it can only cause considerable ill will amongst the Nizam’s people.’
Kirkpatrick glanced at the other officers and then nodded. ‘That’s our fear, sir.’
‘Then we must confront the Nizam again. Can you take me to him tonight?’
‘It’s dark, sir. He’ll have retired to his private quarters by now.’
‘Perfect. Then there’s less chance of anyone seeing us.’
Kirkpatrick pursed his lips. ‘I suppose we can give it a try, sir.’
‘We have to, if we’re going to prevent any bloodshed.’ Arthur stood up.‘Let’s go, then.You and me. Dalrymple and Malcolm can return to their commands.’ Arthur turned to the two Company officers. ‘Have your men fed, armed and ready to move as soon as I give the order. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then I’ll bid you good night, gentlemen. I’m sure I’ll see you again tomorrow.’ He turned back to Captain Kirkpatrick. ‘It’s time to beard the Nizam in his den.’
‘Tonight? Now?’The Nizam’s chamberlain shook his head. ‘I am sorry, sahib, it is not possible. The Nizam—’
‘Then make it possible,’ Arthur said firmly. ‘At once.’
The chamberlain glanced anxiously over his shoulder at the imposing entrance to the Nizam’s private quarters. He turned back to the two English officers and raised his hands imploringly. ‘The Nizam is entertaining guests. He would not be pleased to be interrupted, sahib. It would not go well with me if I dared to disturb him.’
‘It will not go well for you, or the Nizam, if you don’t. I have ridden here on the orders of the Governor General to speak with the Nizam on a matter of the utmost importance.’ Arthur softened his tone and smiled. ‘Now then, I am sure that you would not want the Nizam to hold you accountable for any offence caused to the most powerful Englishman in India.’
The chamberlain squirmed for a moment and clasped his hands to his forehead. ‘Ayoo . . .’
‘Do as we ask,’ Arthur insisted. ‘Many lives hang in the balance.’
The chamberlain lowered his hands and stared at Arthur for a moment and then slumped his shoulders and nodded. ‘Very well, sahib. Come with me.’
They followed him towards the double doors and the two guards standing on either side watched warily as the English officers approached. The chamberlain clapped his hands and called out an order. At once the guards grasped the heavy brass handles and pulled open the great slabs of intricately carved and painted wood. Beyond was a wide corridor and from the far end came the nasal notes of native music. There were voices too, men’s and women’s: high spirited and punctuated with bursts of laughter and joyful shouting.
‘What kind of entertainment is the Nazim enjoying tonight?’ asked Arthur.
‘The usual, sahib. Our ruler is a man of the people, if you take my meaning.That is why I do not think it wise to interrupt him.’ The chamberlain paused and looked at Arthur hopefully. ‘Sahib, I really do think it might be best if we didn’t. I could arrange a meeting tomorrow morning.’
‘Tonight.’ Arthur steered the chamberlain towards the end of the corridor. ‘I cannot wait until morning. Keep moving.’
The trio reached the end of the corridor and emerged into a garden courtyard. Through a thin screen of trees they could see the flickering glint of torches and Arthur led the way along a tiled path towards the voices of the Nizam and his companions. As they emerged into the lighted area at the heart of the courtyard Arthur sucked in his breath and muttered, ‘Upon my soul . . .’
A dozen dancing girls were swaying to the music played by four men in a small arbour to one side of the open space. The dancing girls were clad only in flimsy loincloths and the flames of the torches glimmered off their bangles and earrings. In front of them, in a semicircle, a group of men sat on low couches and watched the dancers with fixed expressions. In the middle was a couch decorated in gold leaf and studded with jewels.The couch was set on a raised dais and squatting on its richly embroidered cushions was an old man in a loose robe that hung open to reveal a round stomach covered in grey hair. Nestled against his thigh was another young girl, as scantily clad as the dancers, and the man absent-mindedly kneaded one of her breasts as he watched the performance in front of him.
Arthur drew himself up to his full height and nodded to Kirkpatrick, and they marched into the loom of the light cast by the torches. The musicians stopped playing and the dancers ceased their sinuous movement as everyone turned towards the sharp rap of boots crossing the polished tiles of the Nizam’s private pleasure garden. The old man seated on the dais, who Arthur realised must be the Nizam, released the girl’s breast and rose to his feet with a shocked expression. As soon as he caught sight of his chamberlain, his expression became angry and he bellowed at the hapless official. Arthur and Kirkpatrick stopped a short distance in front of him and gave a stiff, formal bow.
‘Captain Kirkpatrick,’ said Arthur.
‘Sir?’
‘You speak the language far better than me, so you can translate what I have to say. Tell the Nizam I wish to speak to him alone.’
As the old man listened to Kirkpatrick his eyes widened in outrage and he snapped something back, clenching his fist and waving it at the two Englishmen.
‘He says, how dare we enter his private quarters, and issue such an outrageous order. He says his chamberlain is a mangy son of a whore who deserves to be torn in two for letting two infidels enter the gardens of his master.’