"Hey, you! What are you doing there?"
The shout from behind me made me whirl around so fast my beard almost fell off. Emphasis on "almost", fortunately, because, when I had fully turned around, I came face-to-face with three bearded Indians armed with pitchforks. Judging by the expressions on their faces, they would not have appreciated the sudden revelation of my real identity. Especially the biggest one at the front who had just spoken, with the biggest beard and the pointiest pitchfork.
Oops.
Seems like we should answer this gentleman's question.
The only problem was...how?!
Leaning towards Adaira, I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, "Well? Suggestions! What am I supposed to say?"
"How the heck should I know?! I don't even have a clue what he asked! I don't speak their language, remember?"
Oh, right. Fiddlesticks. So, answering was up to me, was it? Preferably answering in a way that wouldn't get me skewered.
"We...um...we..." I stalled. Karim wasn't doing much better. As for Mr Rikkard Ambrose's standard approach? Silence wasn't doing much to help!
"Yes?" the biggest of the men growled in his native language, taking a menacing step forward. "You what?"
"We came to fight against the British!" I blurted out.
The man stopped in his tracks and stared at me. Judging by the eyes I felt boring into my back from the direction of my travelling companions, he wasn't the only one.
"Fight the British?" he demanded.
"Errr...yes, yes." Squaring my shoulders, I tried my best to exude a confident, manly aura. "We heard about the fighting around here. Rumours of people rising up against those blasted British tyrants have been flying around everywhere these last few weeks." My face scrunched up in disgust as I tried my best to convey my revulsion for those brutal British imperialists that I happened to be part of. Honestly, it wasn't that hard. "So we came to see if there are some of those bloody redcoats to deal with here!" Slamming my fist into the air, I struck my best patriotic pose for the wrong country. "Down with the British! To hell with those filthy swine!"
For a moment, absolute silence reigned over the clearing. From behind, I could practically feel Mr Ambrose's icy gaze drilling into my neck.
"Join up to fight up against the British, hm?" The big stranger cocked his head. "That's what you want to do?"
"Oh yes!" Nodding hurriedly, I nudged Adaira in the ribs. "Isn't that right?"
Adaira opened her mouth—then closed it again as she remembered at about the same time as me that, unlike myself, she did not speak Punjabi. In the end, she settled for nodding energetically.
"See?" I beamed. "Those tea-guzzling gits deserve to be strung up by their guts and strangled to death!"
"I could not agree more." Karim nodded solemnly, his lips twitching ever so slightly. "Over the last few years, there were various British people I repeatedly wished to strangle, two in particular. Too bad I never got the chance." He glanced over at Mr Ambrose. "What do you say, Sa...ehem, Satish?"
The newly named Satish gave his bodyguard a look that made clear who was going to get a pay cut this month. Then he pried his jaw open.
"Naturally. All Britons are evil to the core and deserve to be punished." His gaze bored into me. "Some more so than others."
The big, bearded stranger scrutinised us for a moment longer—then threw back his head and started laughing. "Ha! Good, good! Mwahahaha! Come here, my compatriot!"
Before anyone could react, he grabbed Mr Ambrose by the shoulders and dragged him into a big, manly hug, which just so happened to push my husband's nose straight into the other man's armpit.
Oh. Dear me.
Quickly, I ducked out of sight behind Karim, just in case our new friend had more hugs in store. Plus, I did not want to be in line of sight of Mr Ambrose once he was free from the enthusiastic, manly embrace.
"Forgive my overeager friend," one of the two remaining men spoke up as he stepped forward with an awkward smile. "He can get a little, um...carried away now and then. We all lost a lot at the hands of those damn redcoats, and seeing other people willing to rise up and fight against them must fill his heart with joy."
"It's all right, I understand. So..." With a raised eyebrow, I gestured at the devastated surroundings. "What happened here?"
"That? Oh, we found a few Brits hiding in this place with some horses." Grinning widely, the man cracked his knuckles. "So we took care of them."
"D-did you now? How wonderful. Great job!"
"Ha, yes! We took care of them all right!" The big man released Mr Ambrose from his hug, only to throw an arm around his shoulder before my poor husband could escape and drag him over towards us. "We sliced them and diced them, and then turned what was left of them to charcoal! Just like we're gonna do with any Britons we get our hands on!"
"Um...hear, hear!" I did my best to give him a cheery, decidedly non-British smile. "That must have been fun. It's always a boring day when you don't get to squash a Briton."
"Well said!" The big man let go of Mr Ambrose to slap me on the back, nearly sending me flying face-first into the bushes. "And speaking of squashing Britons..."
"Um, yes?"
I really hope he isn't going to say what I think he's going to say.
"We heard there's a rebel army gathering up at Delhi. We're heading there to screw up those bloody Brits! Want to come along?"
Thank the Lord! Not us! He's not talking about us!
"I love screwing Britons," I told him without hesitation, eliciting a choked sound from Mr Ambrose. Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face. "In fact, I do it on a regular basis."
"Ha!" The big bugger slapped me on the back again so hard he nearly broke my spine. "Great! Those bastards deserve it!"
"I...I couldn't agree more," I wheezed.
"Hey, Krish!" Gesturing at the last member of their trio, the big man steered me forward. "Where did you stash the horses we got from here?"
"Just a few dozen yards away, behind those bushes."
"Then go get 'em and saddle up! We're heading to Delhi. We have redcoats to kill! Death to the British!"
I tried to put on as convincing a smile as I could. If it was anything like the one on Adaira's face, it left something to be desired. "Yay! Death to the British!"
***
"Death! Death to those British bastards!"
Panting, Captain James Carter threw himself around a corner—just in time to avoid the two bullets that whizzed past his head. Without bothering to look back, Carter aimed over his shoulder and fired. Anyway, the point wasn't to hit his pursuers but to keep them at a distance. Unfortunately, one gun against three regiments wasn't a particularly threatening deterrent.
"Would you like to give the next speech, Your Lordship?" he panted, gifting the man running next to him a faux-cheerful smile. "The crowd seems eager for your appearance."
"Shut your mouth, Carter!"
"Oh, and here I thought those people behind us who so rudely interrupted my speech were the only ones who dislike what comes out of my mouth. You didn't enjoy my oratory performance? Such hurtful words, Your Lordship! My heart is aching!"
Although it was mostly due to running so fast. Carter didn't bother to waste more breath mentioning that, however. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder, hoping to see that they had finally shaken off their pursuers—
Bam!
—only to barely avoid another bullet as a band of men in Bengal regiment uniforms rounded the corner and raced towards their prey. He didn't hesitate for a second.
Bam!
But this time, his shot didn't make the other party retreat. Instead, they sped up, and soon, several dozen more soldiers had flooded the street, all armed to the teeth.
All right...time to take cover.
"I think we had better find a place to hide, Your Lordship."
"You think?!"
Ignoring the curses Dalgliesh started to heap on him, Captain Carter ducked down and ran as fast as his feet would carry him towards a barrel Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh had already hidden behind. Notably, his well-paid bodyguards were nowhere in sight.
"We must find a safe place to hide," Dalgliesh hissed. "These savages have gone insane and will tear us apart if they catch us! On the way, you must protect me with your life. I command it!"
"Naturally." Carter inclined his head humbly. "It will be my honour to protect such an esteemed personage as Your Lordship."
"Excellent! I—"
"And, that being the case, we should immediately implement the best plan to keep Your Lordship safe. After all, with so many pursuers after us, there's only one way we can hope to escape."
"One way?" Dalgliesh frowned. "What way?"
"Why..." Captain James Carter gave the man opposite his brightest, most innocent smile. "Split up, of course. Goodbye."
And with that, he ducked into a narrow alleyway and disappeared.
***
Only half an hour later, when she was already on her new horse and heading towards Delhi with her fellow bloodthirsty rebels, did reality really settle in. She, Adaira Louise Jannet Melanie Georgette Ambrose, was now a rebel against the British Empire. She could be hanged or shot, or both of the above. Huzzah! And best of all? She was heading to attack the city her man was currently defending!
What the heck was she supposed to do?!
Well...you could have a little chat with the person responsible for this situation.
Her gaze flicked to the familiar back of a young woman riding not far ahead of her, and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Yes. That sounded like a great idea.
Urging her horse forward, Adaira soon caught up with the one who had gotten her into this mess. With one hand, she reached out and grabbed her prey by the arm, just in case it would try and escape. A good idea, judging by the way said prey reached for the reins the very next second.
"None of that now, Lilly." Making sure to keep her voice low, Adaira brought her horse up beside Lilly's. "Why don't we have a friendly chat?"
"Um...because you look murderous for some reason?"
"I wonder why that is." For a moment, Adaira put on a thoughtful look—then she snapped her fingers and gave Lilly a bright smile. "Ah, I know! Maybe it's because I came here to rescue my man, and now we're heading off to skewer him and anyone dressed in the same uniform with pitchforks!"
"I had to improvise! It was the best thing I could think of at the time!"
"Well, your improvisation skills are pretty horrendous!" She gave her sister-in-law a penetrating look. "'Death to the British'? Really? What am I supposed to do when I meet my intended? Off him on the spot?"
"Well..." Lilly cleared her throat. "You know that, in France, when a gentleman and lady get really excited together, it's called the 'little death', so maybe..."
"Emphasis on 'little'! They don't mean actual bloody death!"
"It doesn't have to be bloody," Lilly generously allowed. "You can always use poison."
The icy glower Adaira sent at her sister-in-law instantly shut her up. Hm. Maybe she had more in common with her brother than she'd thought.
"Please, Lilly!" Tightening her grip on her friend's arm, Adaira gazed up at her, fighting to keep calm. She would not cry! She would not! "This is not the time for jokes!"
Lilly's face turned sombre in an instant. "No. No, it is not. But honestly, Adaira, this was really the best plan I could think of to get us out of that situation alive. Those three...they were armed and ready to kill at a single sign of Britishness. Now we're on our way to Delhi, and we even have an armed escort that will see us to our destination safely. Or do you have a better idea?"
Adaira opened her mouth—and then closed it again. She didn't. In fact, she hadn't had any ideas at the time, because she hadn't understood a word of what was going on. Like hell was she going to admit that, though.
"But..." She bit her lower lip. "What are we supposed to do when we arrive in Delhi?"
"Convince our new friends that Britons are lovable and cuddly?"
Adaira sent her sister-in-law another glower. Unfortunately, this time, it didn't have quite the same effect.
"All right, that might not work," Lilly admitted. "But look at the bright side!"
"Which is?"
Adaira was gifted with a cheerful smile. "There will probably be tens of thousands of rebels in Delhi. With so many of them, won't it be easy to slip away from our three companions?"
"...and there will be even more people who want to kill my future fiancé."
"Um." Lilly cleared her throat. "Yes. I guess that, too."
"Lilly?"
"Yes?"
"If, in the future, you plan to help me prepare for my wedding, warn me beforehand. I might not survive the bloodshed otherwise."
***
Watching as Adaira rode away, muttering to herself rebelliously, I breathed a sigh of relief. Honestly, I was beginning to think that my impromptu plan was not the brilliant idea I had originally believed it to be. But had there been a choice? Our three new friends, Krish, Kirpa and Salaj, were just a little bit too murder-happy for my taste, particularly when it came to Britons. Not that I could blame them, really. One look at Karim's grim face whenever the East India Company was mentioned was enough to tell me that Indians had plenty of reasons to hate their colonisers. The only problem was...
I happened to be one of those bloody colonisers! I hadn't personally done much colonising, but I doubted very much our new overenthusiastic friends would care particularly much. If they found out who I truly was, my head would be separated from my body before I could say "Not fair!". The same would probably go for all of my companions. So, all in all, I didn't think my spur-of-the-moment plan was too bad. And as for what we would do once we arrived in Delhi with tens of thousands of other rebels bent on beating Britons bloody?
Ehem. We'd cross that bridge when we came to it. Or maybe blow it up. We were rebels now, after all. Huzzah!
Anyway, we were safe for the moment. What mattered right now was that, for the time being, this ruse kept us safe and provided us with easy transport to Delhi. Adaira might be a bit pissed off, but no one else should have any reason to object to what I had said and done, right?
"So, Mrs Ambrose..." a chilly voice suddenly entered my ear from right behind me. "You love screwing Britons, do you?"
Oops.
I...might have spoken too soon.
-----------------------------------------
My dear Readers,
Regarding the rather extreme anti-British sentiments expressed by some of the characters in the above chapter, they were probably accurate for the time period in question. At the time, India had suffered over a century of colonialism under British rule, during which they were second-class people in their own country. Judging by how widespread and violent the rebellion against British rule was, it is not unreasonable to say that, at the time, a lot of hate had accumulated. This is in no way suggesting that such views should be held or are still held today. My story is merely supposed to be a (hopefully accurate) portrayal of the times.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob