Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 2: Flashman and the Mountain of Light, Flash For Freedom!, Flashman and the Redskins. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ Littler he wasn’t prepared to admit that I’d been right.

      “Fortunately, no harm appears to have been done,” says he coldly. “However, the less said of this the better, I think. You will agree, Major Broadfoot, that any publication of the Sikhs’ treachery might have the gravest consequences.” Without waiting for George’s reply, he went on, to me: “And I would not wish your ordeal at the hands of the enemy to be noised abroad. It was a dreadful thing” – he might have been discussing the weather – “and I congratulate you on your deliverance, but if it were to become known it must have an inflammatory effect, and that could serve no good end.” Never mind the inflammatory effect it had had on my end; even in the middle of a war he was fretting about our harmonious relations with the Punjab when it was all over, and Flashy’s scorched arse mustn’t be allowed to mar the prospect. I hadn’t liked Henry Hardinge before, but now I loathed him. So I agreed at once, like a good little toady, and Gough, who’d been fidgeting impatiently, got a word in:

      “Tell me this, my boy – an’ if you’re proved wrong I’ll not hold it against ye. This Tej Singh, now … ye know the man. Can we rely on him to do his worst, by his own side?”

      “Yes, sir,” says I. “I believe so. He’d sit in front of Ferozepore forever. But his officers may force his hand for him.”

      “I think, Sir Hugh,” drawls Hardinge, “that it would be wiser to weigh the facts we know, rather than Mr Flashman’s opinion.”

      Gough frowned at the tone, but nodded. “No doubt, Sorr Hinry. But whatever, it must be Ferozeshah. And as soon as maybe.”

I was dismissed after that, but not before Gough had insisted on drinking my health – Hardinge barely lifted his glass from the table. The hell with him, I was too fagged to care, and ready to sleep for a year, but did I get the chance? I’d barely pulled my boots off, and was soaking my extremity in cold water, when my tent was invaded by Broadfoot, bearing a bottle and full of bounce and congratulations, which included himself for being so dam’ clever in sending me to Lahore in the first place. I said Hardinge didn’t seem to think so, and he snorted and said Hardinge was an ass, and a puffed-up snob who had no use for politicals – but never mind that, I must tell him all about Lahore, every word, and down he plumped on my charpoy,^a spectacles a-gleam, to hear it.

      Well, you know it all, and by midnight, so did he – bar the jolly parts with Jeendan and Mangla, which I had too much delicacy to mention. I made much of my friendship with little Dalip, spoke in admiring terms of Gardner, and put in a word for Jassa – d’you know, he’d been aware of that remarkable rascal’s identity all along, but had kept it from me on principle. When I’d finished, he rubbed his hands with satisfaction.

      “All this will be of the greatest value. What matters, of course, is that you have gained the confidence of the young Maharaja … and his mother …” He glanced sharply at me, and I met his eye with boyish innocence, at which he went pink, and polished his glasses. “Yes, and Goolab Singh, also. Those three will be the vital figures, when all this is over. Yes …” He went off into one of his Celtic trances for a moment, and then roused himself.

      “Flashy – I’m going to ask you to do a hard thing. You won’t like it, but it must be done. D’ye see?”

      Oh, Jesus, thinks I, what now? He wants me to go to Burma, or dye my hair green, or kidnap the King of Afghanistan – well, the blazes with it! I’ve run my mile, and be damned to him. So, of course, I asked him eagerly what it might be, and he glanced at my injured ankle which I’d laid, still pink and puffy, on a wet towel.

      “Still painful, I see. But it didn’t stop ye riding thirty miles today – and if there’s a cavalry charge against the Khalsa tomorrow, you’ll be in it if it kills you, won’t you?”

      “I should dam’ well hope so!” cries I, with my heart in my boots at the mere thought, and he shook his head in stern admiration.

      “I knew it! No sooner out o’ the frying pan than you’re itching to be at the fire. Ye were just the same on the Kabul retreat.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, I’m sorry, my boy – it’s not to be. Tomorrow, I don’t want you to be able to walk a step, let alone back a horse – d’ye follow?”

      I didn’t – but I smelled something damned fishy.

      “It’s this way,” says he earnestly. “Last night we fought the sternest action I ever saw. These Sikhs are the starkest, bravest fellows on earth – worth two Ghazis, every man of ’em. I killed four myself,” says he solemnly, “and I tell ye, Flashy, they died hard! They did that.” He paused, frowning. “Have you ever noticed … how soft a man’s head is?³³ Aye, well … what we did last night, we’ll be doing again presently. Gough must destroy Lal’s half of the Khalsa at Ferozeshah – and unless I’m mistaken it’ll be the bloodiest day that ever was seen in India.” He wagged a finger. “It may well decide this war –”

      “Yes, yes!” cries I, all eagerness, feeling ready to puke. “But what’s all this gammon about me not being able to walk –?”

      “At all costs,” says he impressively, “you must be kept out of the fighting. One reason is that the credit and confidence you’ve achieved with the folk who’ll be ruling the Punjab under our thumb next year – is far too valuable to be risked. I won’t allow it. So, when Gough asks for you as a galloper tomorrow – which I know he will – well, he can’t have you. But I don’t choose to tell him why, because he has no more political sense than the minister’s cat, and wouldn’t understand. So we must hoodwink him, and the rest of the Army, and your game leg will serve our turn.” He laid a hand on my shoulder, owling at me. “It’s not a nice thing, but it’s for the good o’ the service. I know it’s asking a deal, from you of all men, that you stand back when the rest of us fall in, but … what d’ye say, old fellow?”

      You can picture my emotion. That’s the beauty of a heroic reputation – but you must know how to live up to it. I assumed the right expression of pained, bewildered indignation, and put a catch into my voice.

      “George!” says I, as though he’d struck the Queen. “You’re asking me … to shirk! Oh, yes, you are, though! Well, it won’t do! See here, I’ve done your job in Lahore, and all – don’t I deserve the chance to be a soldier again? Besides,” cries I, in a fine passion, “I owe those bastards something! And you expect me to hang back?”

      He looked manly compassionate. “I said it was a hard thing.”

      “Hard? Dammit, it’s … it’s the wrong side of enough! No, George, I won’t have it! What, to sham sick – humbug dear old Paddy? Of all the cowardly notions!” I paused, red in the face, fearful of coming it too strong in case he relented. I changed tack. “Why am I so confounded precious, anyway? When the war’s over, it’ll be all one who plays politics in Lahore –”

      “I said that was one reason,” he cut in. “There’s another. I need you back in Lahore now! Or as soon as may be. While it’s all in the balance, I must have someone near the seat of power – and you’re the man. It’s the part I designed for you from the first, remember? But your return must be a secret known only to you, me, and Hardinge … well, if you sham sick no one will wonder why you’re being kept out of harm’s way in the meantime.” He grinned complacently. “Oh, I ken I’m a devious crater! I need tae be. So you’ll go on a crutch the morn – and let your beard grow. When you go north again it’ll be as Badoo the Badmash – well, ye can hardly ask admission to Lahore Fort as Mr Flashman, can ye?”

      Fortunately, СКАЧАТЬ