But now the peace of the hour was disturbed, and his game of dice. ‘Colonel,’ he said, with a hand to Hervey’s shoulder to wake him. ‘It’s Colonel Maclean, come to report.’

Hervey sat up and looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. ‘Very well. And some coffee, if you will. And have Major Parry come.’

He got up and shook his cloak. It was a soft bed, and no doubt he’d shared it with some minor fauna, but nothing too alarming that he could see in the lantern light.

The galloper on picket brought Maclean to the bivouac. He had a tin mug in his hand already – the Sixth’s rule that visitors were offered hospitality appropriate to the time of day, and Johnson’s pot of coffee simmering since dusk.

‘My dear General, I’m sorry indeed to disturb you, but at least it’s with good news.’

Johnson put a tin mug into Hervey’s hand.

He took a sip, grimaced, took another and hoped it would soon have effect so he needn’t drink more.

‘No apology needed, Colonel.’

‘I never would have thought it, but the Chintalees put up such a fire at the river as I’ve never seen for so modest a demonstration as we were able to make. Cannon and musketry as if their lives depended on it. And all of it wild beyond speaking; we didn’t lose a single man. Evidently their purpose is indeed to draw us in. We’ll oblige them, therefore, keep ’em awake all night and make another demonstration at dawn, and we’ll then get ready for Lindesay’s men to relieve us.’

‘Capital. Any word about the mysterious road south?’

‘Indeed there is, which is why I’ve come. I sent a subaltern’s patrol – Tysseu – one of my best. The road does indeed run straight south-west, just as the map indicates – wide enough for four horses, and there are tracks made by more than one well-laden cart. It stops dead after three miles or so for no purpose whatsoever except that there’s a shrine of some sort. Tysseu couldn’t make out what. He made a sketch, but I myself am none the wiser, though it’s evidently some snake deity – a naga, perhaps; or even Shiva – when he wears that cobra for a necklace. But that’s by the bye. The material point is that the forest there’s perfectly open. The canopy’s so full, says Tysseu, that it felt like dusk even when it was still broad daylight.’

Hervey took a mouthful of coffee in satisfaction. Just as he’d hoped – a full canopy restricting the light, so that nothing worth speaking of grew but the trees themselves.

‘So there’d be no hindrance to infantry?’

‘Nothing, certainly, that infantry couldn’t manage, says Tysseu, perhaps in places with the odd axe. He spoke of some disobliging thorn, but he pressed on till they debouched at the Nerbudda, four miles; five at most. Once out, as far as he could see was paddy-field.’