Had he met this Ashok Acharya, the first minister, that time before? Then, it had been Kunal Verma who’d been dewan, and who’d met his end by an unknown hand (an end that few could not have welcomed, so thoroughly corrupt was he). Somervile had said he was surprised that the politicals, both his own and those at Fort William, knew so little of Acharya, and voiced his disdain for the late agent, who ought to have been reporting every detail.

In any event, their quarters were light and cool – high, airy rooms with fretted windows opening on to the water gardens. He couldn’t recall which had been his the first time, but Johnson said he thought they were the same – just with more gilding (doubtless the bounty of the rubies).

‘And them,’ he added, pointing to two lattice gratings high in the walls.

Hervey looked.

‘Eh, bien vu!’

‘Colonel?’

Walls had ears – the ‘ears of Dionysius’ – just as before. He made a sign of appreciation. Johnson understood.

Then it was time to bathe; and afterwards to dine, which they did in a room furnished in the European style (and, again, with ‘ears’); just the five of them – Hervey, Fairbrother, St Alban and ‘the ladies’, although Acton insisted on being present, upright in a corner resting on his sword throughout (though he did concede to hospitality by not drawing it from its scabbard). Later he would keep guard in the corridors with the two dragoons, catching a little sleep when he could. A coverman’s capability was judged in one way only, the safety of his principal. Success would bring promotion, failure oblivion. It was a powerful spur to vigilance.

XVII

The First Spear

Next day

‘Chota hazree, Colonel.’

Johnson had taken to announcing his customary ‘dish o’ tea’ like the bearer who brought it at Arcot House (though without the ‘sahib’ that ended every one of Sutty’s statements) and who’d kept with them these past months no matter what the heat and dust. (His name was Sutantu – the Lord Shiva – but Johnson thought ‘Sutty’ was more regimental.)

‘And Sutty’s made some ’oney cake.’

It wasn’t yet light, and none too warm, and in truth Hervey would have preferred to lie a little longer, but tea was always enough to fortify him. At least his razor could stay in its place, for he’d shaved before dinner.

‘Who roused you?’

‘’Ave been awake for ’ours.’

He didn’t ask why. It wasn’t the time to hear the litany of instincts, misgivings and suspicions that invariably came with the first night in a new billet.

He looked at his watch. ‘Ragjiv’s making ready?’

‘’E is, Colonel. Been up for ages. Gave Minnie ’er corn an hour ago.’

Hervey counted himself doubly blessed with his bearer – he didn’t like ‘dressing-boy’, as they called them in Madras – and with Ragjiv, his syce. Johnson had trained them well, though he said they hadn’t needed any training, just acquainting with regimental ways – which was tantamount to meaning his, Johnson’s, ways.