‘Stand-to!’

It came suddenly, repeated left and right.

He was about to mount, but instead pulled out his telescope.

Horsemen; in the shadow of the forest; half a mile north.

‘I do believe it’s Worsley.’

Major Parry had his telescope too. ‘Dragoons, certainly, General. They’re in no hurry; no one in pursuit, evidently.’

Hervey put away his telescope. ‘I’ll let Dennie stand-down in his own time nevertheless.’

It was a full five minutes before Colonel Dennie was satisfied his battalion would not have to form square.

Two minutes later Worsley and half a dozen dragoons trotted briskly up to Hervey’s pennant.

There were the customary exchanges, though perhaps with more relief than usual.

And then the report. ‘As you instructed, I sent out patrols at first light. I’ve come at once, however, because we were able to scout during the night and I myself made touch again with Fairbrother. The communicating tunnel’s flooded, by which he supposes that Ashok Acharya didn’t know of it, as they’d never have flooded it otherwise.’

Hervey looked doubtful. ‘It’s a poor communicating tunnel that’s flooded unintentionally.’

Worsley raised his eyebrows as if to say it was as much as he knew. ‘But Fairbrother believes it’s salvable.’

‘How the deuce does he suppose that?’

‘He wasn’t awfully forthcoming, but Colonel Bell knows a great deal about it, it seems, and Fairbrother’s hijdas come and go as they please.’

‘No matter. But how’s it salvable? I’ve but a few sappers.’

Worsley now looked sceptical. ‘He’s gone to the coal pits to bring a steam engine. He’s found a place to pump the water unobserved.’

Hervey sighed. ‘It can do no harm, I suppose.’

Frankly, though, he was beginning to wonder if Fairbrother’s new-found fascination with steam was altogether sane.

‘And the city itself?’

Worsley said he thought it possible the people had little idea that anything untoward was happening. Even the flooding of the moat hadn’t seemed to excite much notice, and there were few if any in uniform on the streets. ‘I got about with no difficulty whatsoever.’

Hervey nodded. It boded well for a long siege at least, a docile population at one’s back.

‘And what of the “Pindarees”?’

Worsley shook his head. ‘Other than that their grand barracks are empty, nothing yet. I’ve tried to send word that riches beyond belief are theirs if they remain loyal, but have had no word by reply. I’m rather pinning my hopes on the patrols.’

Hervey nodded again. It wasn’t easy, he knew. ‘It’s not unknown for a freebooter to take his troops some distance from the fight and wait to hear how it’s going … All the more reason to make a demonstration before the palace as soon as may be.’

‘The patrols have orders to send word as soon as they make touch.’

Hervey stiffened suddenly. Shots – a great many; muffled, indistinct, but the sound of battle, unquestionably.

Then he smiled with satisfaction. ‘The Thirteenth beginning their work.’

‘I saw their pickets.’

‘The greatest folly the Chintalees didn’t picket. Careless practice. No sign of communication with the palace. And I warrant the palace’ll believe the noise to be frontal attacks.’ He wouldn’t tempt fate by saying so, or encourage any to drop his guard, but he was thankful nevertheless that he was evidently opposed by no great general.