Your Lordship will understand … Hervey had written more in hope than certainty, for Lord William Bentinck had assumed – appropriated, some held – the appointment of commander-in-chief when Sir Edward Barnes returned home unexpectedly a year ago. He’d no quarrel with Bentinck as governor-general, largely for the reason that Somervile hadn’t, but he’d no great regard for his ability as a soldier. Indeed, as far as he could see, Bentinck could present no evidence of ever having been a soldier, in any sense that another soldier would recognize. ‘Your Lordship will understand’ was, indeed, forceful military judgement courteously expressed. His plan de déploiement was no more than he need explain, no more than military propriety and prudence required. If he were to fall in the course of the campaign, the design would bear witness enough to his military judgement.

XXII

A Few Honest Men

The Forest of Chintal, next day

Shots – not a volley or a fusillade, but more, for sure, than a brace of pistols. Difficult to be certain in the jungle.

For two hours they’d trodden the green road – wide enough for a waggon, and sometimes two – and for three hours before that they’d walked and occasionally trotted through open country with scarcely a soul to be seen save those too weak to run and hide. Soldiers: there was no knowing what they’d do. How might a poor ryot distinguish King’s and Company’s from less well-regulated corps? It had been the same when he’d taken the northern route three weeks before – sullenness. He was still uncertain whether it presaged good or ill.

‘A mile, I think,’ said Hervey. ‘A hill makes no end of difference.’

‘Hunters, perhaps?’ said Parry.

Hervey looked doubtful. It was perfect country for advancing unseen, as he trusted that Worsley, and the Thirteenth, were, but damnable once discovered – the enemy concealed, movement difficult, order and control nigh impossible. Coorg had been much worse, of course: the hills there were petites montagnes – but in Coorg, time had been on his side. ‘The commander’s talents are given greatest scope in rough hilly country’ said his Prussian mentor; and Hervey had smiled at it, for only a Prussian could treat with war as if it were a game. But as for jungle, it was true: it tested mettle like no other.

Colonel Maclean, at his side, spurred into a fast trot. No point waiting for the relays to report. But Hervey stood fast. They’d reach a fork, a track connecting with the northern road. If there was need to switch the effort from the southern, here was as good a place as any to begin. He’d not crowd Maclean and his squadrons.

Yet his every instinct was to ride forward. He got down from the saddle and spread the map on the ground – if ‘map’ it could be called. (What cartographical benefits would flow from a subsidiary alliance!) There was a road of some sort not far ahead that branched south towards the flood plain of the Nerbudda, but it wasn’t clear whether it went as far as the plain or petered out in the forest. He wondered if he might get the Thirteenth to send a troop …