Arthur and Fitzroy were in full uniform and sat uncomfortably in the stifling heat as the Peshwa and his entourage walked their horses slowly across the large clear area lined by tents and horse lines. Arthur nodded to the colonel of the dragoons who drew a deep breath and bellowed the order, ‘Present!’

The dragoons drew their sabres and rested them smartly on their shoulders, guards held out so that there was a right angle between upper and lower arms. It was a spectacular display and one that Arthur hoped would impress his host.

The Peshwa was a young man with a ready smile and he bowed his head in response to Arthur’s salute, then reined his horse in.

‘Colonel Wellesley.’ He spoke softly with a slight lisp. ‘I am delighted to meet the man responsible for the defeat of Dhoondiah Waugh.’

Before one of his courtiers could translate Arthur replied in Hindoostani. ‘The pleasure is mine, sir.’

The Peshwa’s expression revealed his surprise and he smiled again. ‘You speak our tongue well, Colonel.’

‘You are very kind, sir.’

‘No, it is you who are kind, Colonel. Not many of the white men in India have made an effort to learn the local tongues.’ He laughed. ‘They just speak louder in the hope that volume will compensate for clarity.’

Now it was Arthur’s turn to laugh. ‘You have the measure of my people, sir. It is a peculiarity of the British that they find it hard to speak other languages.’

‘And yet you do, Colonel.’

‘I try to make up for the shortcomings of others, sir.’

‘How admirable of you. But I wonder, can one such as you make up for the depredations of so many of your fellow countrymen? Or at least the Honourable East India Company?’

‘I can assure you that British affairs in India are no longer the sole responsibility of the Company. The world is changing, sir.’

‘Yes, it is,’ the Peshwa replied thoughfully.

Arthur gestured to the dragoons, still waiting in their squadrons. ‘Would you care to inspect my men, sir?’

‘Indeed.’

The Peshwa rode down each line of horsemen and surveyed them with a genuinely curious expression. At the end he turned to Arthur. ‘Thank you, Colonel. A fine body of men. I only wish I had such soldiers in my army.’

There was a hint of feeling that went beyond politeness and Arthur felt his pulse quicken as he replied. ‘All India knows that the Mahratta people field the finest native soldiers in these lands.’

‘That is true, but some of my warlords abuse that advantage by waging war on each other, and occasionally on me. Sometimes, I fear, I am ruler of the Mahratta federation in name only.’