‘Defeated?’ Arthur shook his head. It could not be true. Goklah had over fifteen thousand men and eight guns. He looked closely at the scout. ‘How did this happen?’
‘ Sahib, I was not there,’ the scout replied carefully. ‘I met some survivors hiding in a nullah. They told me what had happened. They were ambushed as they camped for the night. I rode on to the battlefield to see with my own eyes, and it was true, sahib. A shallow valley filled with the dead.’
‘And Goklah? What of him?’
‘Dead, sahib. The men saw it, and they said that Dhoondiah Waugh himself dyed his beard in the blood of Goklah.’
Arthur continued to stare at the man for a moment, as the column tramped past. He was aware of Fitzroy at his side, fretting to know the nature of the news the scout had brought. He told the scout to join the column, but not to speak a word of the fate of Goklah. As the man rode off he turned to Fitzroy and spoke in an undertone.
‘Goklah is dead. His army is destroyed.’
‘Good God . . . What now, sir?’
‘What now? We carry on with the plan.’
‘Sir?’ Fitzroy looked surprised. ‘How can we? Goklah’s army was three times the size of ours. If Dhoondiah Waugh can defeat Goklah, what chance have we got?’
‘Man for man, our forces are more than a match for any army on this continent. As long as we hold the column together we have little to fear. Besides, with such a victory under his belt, Dhoondiah Waugh might become reckless enough to face us in battle. And if he does, then he is doomed, Fitzroy. Hold to that thought.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Fitroy replied uncertainly.
Arthur turned his mount back towards the head of the column and with a click of his dry tongue he gently urged Diomed forward.
They continued to reduce the enemy’s strongholds until, at the end of July, they stormed the final fortress of Dummul late in the afternoon. As dusk settled over the surrounding hills Arthur’s men went through the fort with firebrands, systematically torching everything that could burn. Brilliant sheets of red and orange flame crackled up against the rouge glow of the sunset. A thick plume of smoke gathered over the blaze, billowing gently into the gloom as it rose steadily higher. Even though they had burned several of Dhoondiah Waugh’s strongholds in the previous weeks the soldiers still regarded the spectacle with fascinated awe for a while before returning to their camp and preparing their evening meal.
‘That’s it, then, sir,’ Fitzroy announced. ‘The last of them. There’s nowhere for Dhoondiah Waugh to run now.’
‘True enough,’ Arthur agreed.
‘What will he do now, sir?’
‘There’s not much he can do, apart from keep on the move. We’ve destroyed his supplies, so there will be little food to sustain a large force. He’ll have to divide his army. Very soon, the prospect of continually being on the march without rest and further spoils will cause his men to melt away. At which point, Dhoondiah Waugh will be little more than a common criminal on the run. The days of the King of Two Worlds are numbered. It has come to the final act.’
Chapter 58
As Arthur had anticipated, Dhoondiah Waugh divided his army into three smaller forces, each one to fend for itself while trying to evade the British pursuit. But with the hircarrahscouts scouring the landscape looking for signs of the brigands it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.The first of the forces was surprised as it camped for the night and was annihilated by a column led by Colonel Stevenson. Arthur posted a thirty thousand rupee reward for information leading to the death or capture of Dhoondiah Waugh and within days a report on the precise location of the enemy was received. The rebel chief was leading the larger of his surviving columns away from Stevenson. On his present line of march he would be passing across the open ground at Conaghull - a mere ten miles from the main British column.
It was shortly after noon, and Arthur’s mind raced as he grasped the opportunity that lay before him. As well as the bulk of the infantry and artillery he still had two regiments of King’s cavalry and two native mounted regiments, nearly fourteen hundred horsemen in all.‘Fitzroy, I want the cavalry ready to ride at once. They are to leave their kit behind. All they will need is one day’s rations and their weapons.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Hurry, man! We must move quickly.’
Within half an hour, the cavalry column had left the main body and was riding hard across the landscape in the direction of Conaghull. Just over two hours after he had first received the report, Arthur spotted a dense cloud of dust a few miles distant and he felt relief wash through his heart. At last, they had pinned Dhoondiah Waugh down. He indicated the haze to Fitzroy and called out, ‘We’ll attack as soon as we reach them.’
‘Yes, sir. If you think that’s wise.’
They rode on, until they were no more than a mile from the enemy force, now visible through gaps in the clumps of trees that dotted the plain. As the enemy drew into sight, Arthur halted his men and with Fitzroy rode over to a small hummock for a better sighting of the ground ahead.
From the crest they had a fine view across the plain. Fitzroy’s expression steadily became more concerned as his eyes took in the mass of men and horses moving across the landscape. ‘Sir, there must be nearly . . . five thousand men over there.’
Arthur nodded as he squinted through his field telescope. ‘At least. But no more than half are mounted.’
‘They still outnumber us, sir.’
‘Yes. But, as ever, this is is a test of quality over quantity, and the superiority of our men has not failed us yet.’
‘There’s always a first time, sir,’ Fitzroy responded quietly.
Arthur lowered his telescope and turned to his aide with a smile. ‘And that time is not now.’ He turned back towards the enemy army and pointed to an open stretch of ground. ‘That’s where we’ll take them. We’ll form a single line parallel to the enemy and charge.’
‘A single line? No reserves, sir?’
‘No. We need to strike with maximum impact. If we don’t succeed with the first charge there will be no need for a reserve. It’s all or nothing, Fitzroy.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then let’s go!’ He wheeled Diomed round and galloped back down the slope to the long column of mounted men waiting impatiently in the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. They moved off at a tangent to the enemy and had closed to within half a mile by the time they reached the position Arthur had indicated. As they caught sight of their pursuers, Dhoondiah Waugh’s warriors halted and prepared to fight for their lives. Arthur drew his men up in one long line.The two King’s regiments were in the centre while the native cavalry formed up on the flanks.
It was a brave sight, Arthur reflected as he glanced either side at his cavalrymen. He loosened the straps on his saddle holster, checked his stirrups were secure, and then drew his sword and bellowed the order, ‘Draw sabres!’
The order was relayed down the line and the air was thick with the rasp of blades scraping from their scabbards. When the noise had died away, Arthur raised his blade high and then swept it forward towards the enemy to signal the advance.
He nudged his heels in and Diomed paced forward. On either side the line rippled into motion as the horses began to cross the open ground, half a mile from the waiting enemy.The officers and their sergeants kept shouting orders to keep the line dressed, and Arthur noted with professional satisfaction that the men were maintaining their positions almost as well as if they had been on an exercise at Horseguards.
Ahead he could see the enemy infantry raising their muskets, no more than four hundred yards away.
‘At the trot!’
The line lurched forward, slightly more uneven now as the pace increased. Ahead, the first of the enemy opened fire, flashes and puffs of smoke pricking out along the face of the mass of men awaiting the British cavalry. At that range Arthur knew the chances of any ball hitting a target were remote, but he felt his pulse quicken none the less, and as soon as they had closed to within three hundred yards he raised his sword again.