‘Very well.’ Arthur nodded and turned to the lieutenant. ‘I want the native bodies taken out of there and placed in a line by the wall.’

As the sun dipped towards the horizon and cast deep shadows behind the wall the redcoats reluctantly went about the distasteful task. The bodies, limp and slippery with blood, urine and ordure, were pulled out of the tangle of limbs and carried to one side. The killadar’s expression filled with grief as he recognised companions and friends from Tipoo’s court who had fought and died alongside their ruler. As the light faded, Arthur ordered a torch to be lit so that the killadar could examine the bodies in its wavering glare. At last, two men emerged from the passage carrying a small portly man in a richly embroidered silk jacket. He was darker skinned than the others and had fine small hands.

The killadar swallowed and nodded. ‘That is Sultan Tipoo.’

‘Put him down,’ Arthur ordered, and the two soldiers gently lowered the body to the ground. Arthur leaned closer and saw that apart from a few scratches and smears of blood, and a bullet wound to the shoulder, Tipoo seemed to have no lethal wound. Arthur undid some buttons on the jacket and tore open the silk shirt to reveal the dark smooth skin of the chest. He leaned his ear against it and listened for a moment, but there was no hearbeat.

‘He’s dead.’

The lieutenant came over. ‘Is that him, sir? Tipoo?’

Arthur nodded.

‘I remember this one. I saw him up there on the bastion, taking shots at us while his servants loaded his guns. He killed Lieutenant Lalor, shot him through the head. A fine shot at that range. That was before they went down to the passage to make their last stand. He was fighting it out with a sword when I saw him fall. How did he die?’

Arthur glanced over the body. ‘It’s hard to know for certain. Perhaps he fell and was knocked senseless. He was found near the bottom of the pile. It’s likely that he suffocated.’

‘Jesus . . .’The lieutenant shook his head.‘That’s no way to die.’

Fitzroy muttered, ‘There are worse ways, believe me.’

‘Take the body to the palace,’ Arthur ordered. ‘His sons can confirm the identity. Once his men know that he’s dead, there will be no reason to continue the fight.’

They returned to the palace, the body of the Tipoo being carried by a small detail of the men from the water gate. Tipoo’s sons, his wives and the surviving courtiers gathered round the body and began to grieve, their anguished cries echoing back off the walls of his audience chamber. Baird came, in response to the news, and stood to one side looking over the scene.There was no pity in his eyes, just a cold look of satisfaction.