It was nearing nine o’clock, the time appointed for the exploding of the mine. Hervey rode out into full view of the walls with his staff and escort, and took post in the shade of a lone deodar – a tree as naturally alien to Chintal as was he in his red coat.

He took out his telescope to survey the walls, in particular that part under which the barrels would do their firework. Captain Hart had told him the powder would certainly bring down a good portion of masonry, but he could make no estimate of the length of wall or the extent of the collapse. (He thought it probable there would be a mound of rubble to climb, but that a deal of it would fall into the moat – a help thereby if it came to storming the breach.)

On the walls directly above the mine he could see a number of gunners and a huge cannon, its barrel long enough to send a ball half a mile, though to what purpose in a siege was unclear, and he felt a momentary pang of regret for what was about to be their fate. Until, that is, he smiled grimly at the thought of the Prussian’s contempt of the Menschenfreund, the philanthropist. ‘Cruel necessity’, Cromwell had said of such things. And so he must play God again and send these distant figures to their own. He closed the cover of his watch, braced himself, and said, ‘Well, gentlemen, we shall see what we shall see.’

The seconds ticked past – ten, eleven, twelve.

Then the deafening explosion.

It was greater than he’d heard in an age; greater even than Bhurtpore.

Minnie shied. Stones fell about them, disconcertingly if harmlessly. Larger ones made fountains in the moat.

The corner of the curtain wall was invisible in the smoke and dust. It was a full minute before he could see properly.

When he did see, it astonished him. The breach was fifty yards at least – as big as he’d ever seen – and a ramp of rubble almost filling the moat.

He snapped his telescope shut. ‘Capital work, Hart; capital!’

Colonel Lindesay’s brigade appeared from the cover of the havelis to the east, their orders to halt at the moat to make a show of what awaited the defenders if they chose to resist … And it shall come to pass, that when they make a long blast with the ram’s horn, and when ye hear the sound of the trumpet, all the people shall shout with a great shout; and the wall of the city shall fall down flat, and the people shall ascend up every man straight before him.

Hervey sighed with more relief than he cared to show. Joshua himself could have wished for no more.

‘Mr Hussey, your service now, if you please!’ he called, once he’d settled Minnie.

The gallopers had drawn lots for the privilege of taking the terms to the palace. The cornet of the Thirteenth had won.