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 I was a happy man, I can tell you – and happier yet, three hours later, when I’d been admitted by a sentry of the 62nd whose Whitechapel challenge was music to my ears, and hobbled painfully into the presence of Peter Nicolson, who’d seen me off across the Sutlej three months ago.

      He didn’t know me at first, and then he was on his feet, steadying me as I staggered artistically, bravely gritting my teeth against the agony of my ankle (which was feeling much better, by the way).

      “Flashman! What on earth are you doin’ here? Good lord, man, you’re all in – are you wounded?”

      “That don’t matter!” gasps I, subsiding on his cot. “Small memento from a Khalsa dungeon, what? See here, Peter, there’s no time to lose!” I shoved Lal’s note at him, and gave him the marrow of the business in a few brief sentences, insisting that a galloper must ride to Gough at once to let him know that the Philistines were on the move and ready to be smitten hip and thigh. I didn’t add “courtesy of H. Flashman”, just then; that was a conclusion they could leap to presently.

      He was a smart political, Nicolson: he grasped the thing at once, bawled for his orderly to fetch Colonel Van Cortlandt, pumped my hand in delight, said he could hardly credit it, but it was the finest piece of work he’d ever heard – I’d come through the Khalsa in disguise, been with Lal and Tej, made ’em split their forces, come away with their plans? Good God, he’d never heard the like, etc., etc.

      Jallalabad all over again, thinks I contentedly, and while he strode out shouting that a galloper must ride directly to Littler, who was out on a reconnoitre, I heaved up for a dekko in the mirror over his washstand. Gad, I looked like the last survivor of Fort Nowhere … capital! I slumped back on the cot, and had to be revived with brandy when he and Van Cortlandt arrived, full of questions. I rallied gamely, and described in detail what I’d told Lal and Tej to do; Van Cortlandt, whom I’d heard of as a former mercenary with Runjeet Singh, and a knowing bird, just nodded grimly, while Nicolson slapped his forehead.

      “Was ever such a pair of villains! Sellin’ their own comrades, the dastards! My stars, it passes belief!”

      “No, it don’t,” says Van Cortlandt. “It fits exactly with our information that the durbar wants the Khalsa destroyed – and with what I know of Lal Singh.” He eyed me, frowning. “When did you learn they were ready to sell out? Did they approach you in Lahore?”

      This was the moment for my tired boyish grin, with a little gasp as I moved my leg. I could have told ’em the whole horrid tale, and made their hair stand on end – but that ain’t the way to do it, you see. Offhand and laconic, that’s the ticket, and let their imaginations do the rest. I shook my head, weary-like.

      “No, sir, I approached them … just a few hours ago, in their camp over there. I’d had word, two nights ago in Lahore, that they were ready to turn traitor –”

      “Who told you?” demands Van Cortlandt.

      “Perhaps I’d better not say, sir … just yet.” I was shot if I was giving Gardner credit, when I’d done all the bloody work. “I reckoned I’d better get to Lal, and see what he was up to. But I had a spot o’ trouble, getting clear of Lahore … fact is, if old Goolab Singh hadn’t popped up in a tight corner –”

      “Goolab Singh!” cries he incredulously.

      “Why, yes – we had to cut our way out, you see, but he ain’t as spry as he was … and I was rearguard, so to speak, and … well, the Khalsa’s bulldogs laid hold of me –”

      “You said somethin’ about a dungeon!” cries Nicolson.

      “Did I? Oh, aye …” I brushed it aside, and then bit my lip, shifting my foot. “No, no, don’t fuss, Peter … I doubt if it’s broken … just held me up a bit … ah!” I clenched my teeth, recovered, and spoke urgently to Van Cortlandt. “But, see here, sir … what happened in Lahore don’t matter – or how I got to Lal! It’s what he and Tej are doing now, don’t you see? Sir Hugh Gough must be warned …”

      “He will be, never fear!” says Van Cortlandt, looking keen and noble. “Flashman …” He hesitated, nodded, and gave me a quick clap on the shoulder. “You lie down, young feller. Nicolson, we must see Littler as soon as he returns. Have two gallopers ready – this is one message that mustn’t miscarry! Let’s see that map … if Gough’s approaching Maulah, and the Sikhs have reached Ferozeshah, they should meet about Moodkee … in a few hours! Well … touch wood! In the meantime, young Flashman, we’ll have that leg seen too … good lord, he’s gone fast asleep!”

      There was a pause. “Fellows often do, when they’ve had a bad time,” says Nicolson anxiously. “God knows what he’s been through. I say, d’you think the swine … tortured him? I mean, he didn’t say so, but –”

      “He’s not the kind who would, from all I’ve heard,” says Van Cortlandt. “Sale told me that after the Piper’s Fort business they couldn’t get a word out of him … about himself, I mean. Only about … his men. Heavens … he’s just a boy!”

      “Broadfoot says he’s the bravest man he’s ever met,” says Nicolson reverently.

      “There you are, then. Come on, let’s find Littler.”

      You see what I mean? It would be all over camp within the hour, and the Army soon after. Good old Flashy’s done it again – and this time, if I says it myself, didn’t I deserve their golden opinions, even if I had been passing wind the whole way? I felt quite virtuous, and put on a game show, trying to struggle to my feet and having to be restrained, when they returned presently with Littler, a wiry old piece of teak who looked as though he’d swallowed the poker. He was very trim in spotless overalls, chin thrust out and hands behind his back as he ran a brisk eye over me. More compliments, thinks I – until he spoke, in a cold, level voice.

      “Let me understand this. You say that twenty thousand Sikh cavalry are moving to attack the Commander-in-Chief … and this is at your prompting? I see.” He took a deliberate breath through his thin nose, and I’ve seen kinder eyes on a cobra. “You, a junior political officer, took it upon yourself to direct the course of the war. You did not think fit, although you knew these two traitors were bent on courting defeat, to send or bring word to the nearest general officer – myself? So that their actions might be directed by someone of less limited military experience?” He paused, his mouth like a rat-trap. “Well, sir?”

      I don’t know what I thought, only what I said, once I’d recovered from the shock of the icy son-of-a-bitch’s sarcasm. It was so unexpected that I could only blurt out: “There wasn’t time, sir! Lal Singh was desperate – if I hadn’t told him something, God knows what he’d have done!” Nicolson was standing mum; Van Cortlandt was frowning. “I … I acted as I thought best, sir!” I could have burst into tears.

      “Quite so.” It sounded like a left and right with a sabre. “And from your vast political experience, you are confident that the Wazir’s … desperation … was genuine – and that he has indeed acted on your ingenious instructions? He could not have been deceiving you, of course … and perhaps making quite other dispositions of his army?”

      “With respect, sir,” put in Van Cortlandt, “I’m quite sure –”

      “Thank you, Colonel Van Cortlandt. I recognise your concern for a fellow political officer. Your certainty, however, is by the way. I am concerned with Mr Flashman’s.”

      “Christ! Yes, I’m sure –”

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