Captain James Carter leaned back in his wicker chair, took a long sip of his fruity drink and let his eyes sweep over the beautiful scenery in front of him. This was the life! Truly, going on this mission to India was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. Now, if only a certain lady would be here, life would be perfect.
Just as he thought that, soft footsteps approached from behind. Abruptly, Captain Carter felt a faint hope rise in his heart. Could it be that, after his latest letter, she decided to—
"Ehem," a distinctly male cough sounded from behind him.
The captain's shoulders slumped, and he returned his attention to the beautiful scenery, taking another sip from his glass.
"Ehem, ehem!"
Another long, luxurious sip.
"Ehem, ehem, ehem!"
Full of concern, Captain Carter glanced over his shoulder at the liveried figure behind him. "Do you need some cough drops?"
The man's expression said very clearly that, no, he did not need cough drops. Judging by his sour face, however, Captain Carter surmised he could do with some other sweets.
"I thought," the man spoke with so much disapproval any lesser man might have choked on it, "you were told to abstain from this kind of behaviour, Sir. Don't you think this is unbecoming of a military man?"
Deciding his peaceful life was probably over for today, Captain Carter fully turned towards the other party. "Sitting by the riverside sipping fruit juice, you mean?"
"Exactly."
"Then I am innocent." Raising the glass, Captain Carter gave the other man a big, friendly smile. "This isn't fruit juice. It's whiskey."
For some reason, this did not seem to improve the liveried man's mood.
"The Resident Minister is waiting for you in the Red Fort, Sir!"
"Is he, now?" Captain Carter decided this was the best time to take another sip from his drink.
"He wishes to speak with you. Now."
"Oh, very well."
Reluctantly, the captain cast a last glance at the beautiful city, not-so-reluctantly emptied the rest of his whiskey glass and rose to his feet. Without any further delay (except maybe chatting with interesting people he passed on the way, buying something to eat from a street vendor and several other things that were absolutely necessary when heading towards a pompous and impatient superior) Captain Carter made his way through the bright, exuberant streets of Delhi until he stepped into a massive shadow. Looking up, he saw the towering silhouette of the Red Fort rising into the sky above him, its crimson walls shining beautifully in the sunlight. Although...for a moment, it almost looked as if they were painted in blood?
Ha!
Shaking off the strange impression, the captain continued forward. Maybe he had drunk a bit too much whiskey after all.
Nodding to the sepoys on guard at the gate in greeting, he entered the Fort. Though he never let on about it, during the last month's stay in India, he had made sure to memorise every important route in this place. As such, it did not take him particularly long to reach his goal, even at the leisurely pace at which he moved.
Reaching up, he knocked at the large mahogany double-door that practically screamed, I am important! Bow before me!
Something that the occupant of the office would most likely agree with.
"Enter!"
The ancient door creaked as Captain Carter pushed it open and stepped into the room. Inside, a small man behind a large desk was rifling through various documents and muttering angrily. Carter wasn't in any particular hurry, so he plopped the last bit of his street food into his mouth and chewed on the divine deliciousness until the other man eventually looked up and deigned to notice him.
"Finally!" the little man behind the desk exclaimed. "Where were you?"
Saluting, Captain Carter swallowed the last bit of his spiced fruit. "Attending to some very important military matters, Sir!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Well, since you are so diligent, I'm sure you will be delighted to hear that I have something even more important for you to attend to. Here."
A folder sailed through the air towards Carter. Nimbly catching the thing, he let it fall open and started rifling through the contents. The more he read, the more serious his expression became.
"Resident Minister...is this report accurate?"
"Afraid so." The other man grunted. "In the garrison at Meerut, they recently received a batch of the new Enfield rifles. Along with the rifles came a big batch of ammunition. No problem, really. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then some idiot started spreading rumours that the grease on the paper cartridges was made from cow fat. Of course those bloody heathens in the local troops started making trouble immediately!"
"Really?" Captain Carter cocked an eyebrow. "Such a surprise, considering that cows are their sacred animals."
"Like I said, bloody heathens," the resident minister continued, apparently perfectly impervious to sarcasm. "And as if that weren't enough, rumours started up that there was pig fat in the cartridges, too, and the Mohammedans joined the fun!"
"How shocking."
"Well, now you know why the army sent you here. Initially, I thought they were panicking needlessly and the matter would blow over, but..." He grimaced. "Things are getting worse day by day. If something isn't done, this could get ugly."
"Let me guess...I'm just the right man for the job?"
"Exactly." Taking a slip of paper out of a drawer, the resident minister scribbled a signature on it and handed it to Carter. "Take this to the stable master and he will give you the fastest horse available. I need you to head to Meerut and assuage the fears of the dissatisfied natives. Tell them that the bullets have been replaced with new models that no longer contain any animal fat."
Captain Carter raised an eyebrow. "Have they?"
The Resident Minister gave a snort. "How would I know? For that matter, why would I care? The thing that matters is that those savages can't tell the difference."
Carter gave a serious nod. "What you say makes sense. You have inspired me, Sir. When I get home to England, I must immediately set fire to a church, and when the police try to arrest me, I will tell them that I've never set fire to a church, just something that coincidentally looks like a church. I'm sure they will be stupid enough to believe it, right?"
The Resident Minister stiffened. "Are you mocking me, Captain?"
"Of course not, Sir. I am a man who likes challenges. I leave easy tasks to others."
"Challenges?" The Resident Minister's eyelids twitched. "Like basking in the sun and sipping drinks?"
Captain Carter placed hand onto his chest, smiling completely unrepentantly. "You have exposed me, Sir! I lied. I am in fact nothing but a lazy layabout. With that in mind...could you perhaps assign me a slightly less dangerous task than going to Meerut? Perhaps sticking my head into the maw of an angry lion, or testing a new variant of highly volatile gunpowder?"
The resident minister's eyes narrowed. "Those words could be counted as disobeying orders from a superior, Captain!"
"They could," the captain allowed jovially, "if, like you, I actually worked for the East India Company. Fortunately, I am here as an observer from the British Army and thus not obliged to obey you." Abruptly, his voice turned cold. "Even more fortunately, that means I can make as many comments on your incompetence as I want without being court-martialled."
The Resident Minister's face turned an interesting shade of puce. Captain Carter wasn't too surprised. For some reason, the faces of high-ranking people often took on that colour around him.
"Does that mean you refuse to go, Captain?"
Carter didn't really even have to think about it. The leisurely life had gotten rather boring recently. "Ha. No, I'll go. If for no other reason that I don't want some other poor sod getting his head blown off on this fool's errand." He gave the resident minister a sharp look. "But if I return with a horde of angry sepoys on my heels, do not be surprised."
With those words, he turned around and marched out of the room. He didn't stop until he stepped out of the palatial minister's residence and onto a no less luxurious square surrounded by crimson columns and towering white arches. Captain Carter, however, was too busy rummaging in his pocket to be impressed by the scenery. Finally, he seemed to have found what he was looking for, and when he pulled out his hand, there on his palm laid...a coin.
"Heads I survive this, tails I die."
Without hesitation, he flipped the coin, and it flew up into the air. He watched it intensely as it twirled, sparkling in the sunlight, and finally landed.
On its side.
"Oh my. That bodes well." Squaring his shoulders, Captain Carter strode towards the stables. "Let's get going, then."
***
I stood at the London docks, watching as the sailors up ahead rushed to load the luxurious sailing yacht moored in front of us. Yes, you heard correctly: a luxurious sailing yacht. Mr Ambrose had violently protested at the cost of renting said vessel. However, as I had pointed out: what kind of ship would Lord Dalgliesh least expect Mr Ambrose to arrive on?
That had silenced any further objections.
So, now we were only waiting for the ship to be properly stocked before departure. Deciding I needed to have some fun to pass the time, I leaned over to the only other figure beside me and enquired, "Now, tell me again—once we are on the way, what will be your duties, from least to most important, Mrs Wagoner?"
The black-clad figure beside me twitched. "First," a dull voice came from below the veil, "do not be found."
"Excellent."
"Second, diaper duty."
"Even more excellent. And lastly, your most important job?"
It might just have been my imagination, but the voice coming from below the vale seemed to sound exasperated for some reason. "To teach Berty to say 'Mama' before we are halfway to India."
I beamed. "Indeed. And you'll do your best to learn, won't you?" Bending down, I tickled my little treasure under the chin. "Won't you, Berty darling?"
"Papa!" came the immediate reply. "Papa gimme ma-nee!"
I froze.
From underneath Adaira's veil came a sound that suspiciously resembled a snicker. Glancing over, I narrowed my eyes. "Not one word. Not. One. Word."
"Of course, Madam. I wouldn't dare, Madam. I'm just a humble governess, Madam."
It would have been very convincing if not for the snicker that followed immediately afterwards. I opened my mouth to tell her what I thought of her work attitude, when—
"Ma-nee! Ma-nee!"
I closed my mouth again.
"All right, that's it," a familiar voice suddenly came from up ahead. "Let's get going."
Startled, I looked up, only to see Mr Rikkard Ambrose heading straight towards us. The snicker from beside me ceased abruptly.
"Pardon? I was lost in thought."
"Well, you had better find yourself then. The supplies have been loaded aboard. The ship is ready." Meeting my eyes with his own, he extended his hand. "We have no time to waste. Let's go find Adaira."
"Ehem...yes, right. Let's find Adaira." I took his hand and, smiling at the black-clad figure beside me, gestured towards the ship. "Come on, Mrs Wagoner. The sooner we find the person we are looking for, the better."
Even through the thick, loose-fitting gown, I could see her shoulders straighten. Nodding, she fell in step beside me as we moved towards the ship.
"I just hope he's all right," I heard a faint whisper from beneath the veil.
"Don't worry." In a manner that I hoped was comforting, I patted her shoulder, making sure to keep my voice low. "I'm sure he's fine."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
My dear Readers,
Ready for a little lecture on colonial Indian politics and architecture? No? Well, here you go anyway ;-)
The political position of "resident minister" mentioned in the above chapter was a position during colonial times. Essentially, a resident minister was the ruler of a colony that, technically, was still supposed to be an independent country. In this case, the Mughal Empire had long since lost most of its independence, and while technically still being ruled by Bahadur Shah Zafar, it was actually under the control of the East India Company and its Resident Minister.
As for the Red Fort - this is a large fort in Delhi, India. It was commissioned by Emperor Shah Jahan of the Mughal Empire in 1638 and from then on served as the residence of the Mughal Emperors, till the Mughal defeat in the Indian Mutiny (the name preferred by the British) / the Indian War of Independence (the name preferred by the Indians). In case some people who live in (or have been to) India are confused due to the description of the Red Fort: the present-day Red Fort in Delhi is only a ruin, a mere shadow of its former self. Nearly eighty percent of the fort was demolished by the British after their victory against the Indians in the uprising / War of Indipendence. Before that, the Red Fort was a magnificent fortress painted in red and white, and covering a large area.
And this concludes the lecture! I hope you're still awake ;)
A belated happy new year, by the way! I hope 2024 will go well for you.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob