Dennis Wheatley - The Rape Of Venice

For Roger to lose his temper was a very rare thing. Vaguely he realised that he had been a fool to do so, and that he would not have had he been thwarted by anyone other than Gunston; but, from his school days, the sight of that ruddy, coarsely handsome face had been to him as a red rag to a bull. His mind went back to Sherborne and Gunston's bullying him there snatching and spoiling his small precious belongings, and taunting him into fights he could not hope to win.

It was now more than twenty-​four hours since he had closed his eyes. During them he had ridden nearly eighty miles, and been harrowed by every sort of exhausting emotion. With tenuous memories of his school-​days still drifting through his mind, he fell into a profound sleep.

When he awoke it was night. For a moment he could not think where he was; then, as he moved, the clank of irons that confined his wrists and ankles brought everything back to him. He had been roused by the entrance of a tall figure holding a lantern, who now stood beside the divan. With a groan he stared up into the shadow above the light and made out the face of the officer who had taken him to Gunston's marquee. The young man said:

'The Colonel sends his compliments, Sir; and says that if you are prepared to conduct yourself in a reasonable manner he would be pleased to see you.'

Roger sat up. He had slept the clock round. Owing to the resilience from strain and exertion which came from a naturally vigorous mentality, the habit of facing up to difficult situations, and excellent health, his mind was clear and his body no longer feeling the effects of fatigue. He managed to raise a rather strained laugh, and replied:

'I fear I behaved very badly yesterday or was it this morning? Anyway, if you'll have me relieved of these irons I'll promise not to repeat the performance.'

The officer called into the tent a farrier corporal and, with a twisted smile, Roger watched while, for the second time in twenty-​four hours, fetters were knocked from his limbs; then he accompanied the youngster who had been sent to fetch him to the Colonel's marquee.

Gunston was sitting in an easy chair behind a table that had on it a decanter of Madeira and two glasses. As Roger was shown in, he gave him a sharp glance, dismissed the officer, and said:

'You were not yourself this morning, Brook; but in the circumstances I can hardly blame you. I'd have you, though, remember two things: firstly, that I am not a free agent to do as I wish; secondly, that although we have never had any love for one another, this is no time to quarrel. Sit down now, and join me in a glass of wine. There will be a meal for you presently. I thought you would prefer to feed on your own rather than sup with the rest of us in mess.'

'That was considerate of you,' Roger replied. 'I am in no state to support trivial conversation with strangers. As for this morning, I apologise. You were right about my being out of my mind; but the horrors that threaten Clarissa…'

'I know. I would to God my hands had not been tied by our poltroon of a Governor; but we'll get nowhere by going again into that.' As Gunston spoke he was pouring the Madeira. Setting down the decanter, he added: 'I've despatched a Captain with a troop as escort to inform the Rajah that should one hair of Mrs. Brook's head be harmed we'll hang him from his own gate. But more than that I could not do. I could not demand the surrender of her person, since to do so would have amounted to an ultimatum.'

Roger's throat was parched, so he drank off the first glass of wine in three long swallows. While doing so he considered the possible results of Gunston's move. He feared the probability was that the young Rajah, being under Malderini's influence, would ignore the threat. It was certain, too, that the Captain would mention Roger's arrival at the British camp, and that might invite the Venetian to hasten in his designs against Clarissa.

However, it was clear that Gunston had acted with the best intentions, so Roger tactfully refrained from voicing his thoughts, and said, 'We can only pray that Jawahir-​ul-​daula heeds your warning. You will appreciate, though, that unlike yourself I am not bound by any orders, and cannot possibly sit here with folded hands awaiting events.'

'I would not expect you to; but you can do nothing without help. Your best plan would be to return to Calcutta and induce Sir John Shore to send me fresh instructions, empowering me to demand her release and, if need be, march on Bahna.'

'That seems the only course open to me,' Roger agreed.

'May I take it you would provide me with a guide and escort?'

'Certainly.' Gunston refilled their glasses, and went on after a moment. 'I must warn you of one thing, though. As the old Bible-​puncher never intended me to fight, he did not provide me with a force adequate to do so. My information is that Jawahir-​ul-​daula can put into the field an army of some four thousand men. I have only some eight hundred: a battalion of sepoys much under strength, a single battery, and some details of scouts and sappers. Apart from the officers and a troop of horse, none of them are Europeans.'

Roger shrugged. 'As I told you this morning, the Wazier, Rai-​ul-​daula, will bring the Bahna army over to us.'

'If you prove right in that, well and good. But I'd not trust to it. These native gentry are tricky customers. Should things go wrong, I'd find myself with a battle on my hands that I'd not care to have to fight.'

'I see,' said Roger uneasily. 'Still, in the worst event, we might take the city by surprise in a night attack.'

'That's easier said than done. Once we have shown our hand you may be sure they'll keep the walls well manned. They might even sally out and, having so great an advantage in numbers, overwhelm us. No; the remedy lies in your bringing me reinforcements. A good stiffening of British troops is what I need; and preferably cavalry. Were he able to send me my own regiment of Dragoons, I'd make mincemeat of the whole Bahna army. But they are not available, so you must take what you can get. At a minimum it should be two hundred sabres, two companies of redcoats and another battery of artillery. With less, if your man plays the traitor to us, it could be only a desperate gamble.'

'Very well,' Roger agreed. 'You may be sure I shall secure as large a force as possible. When can I set off?'

'As early as you wish tomorrow morning.'

'Why not tonight?'

Gunston gave a sudden laugh. 'You have only yourself to blame that my hospitality up till now has been so lacking. But you should see yourself in a mirror. You are as haggard as a corpse, and look as though you had been dug up from a grave after being buried in your clothes. You need a bath, a barber. a good night's sleep and a fresh rig-​out before you'll be in a fit state to travel.'

'I've slept all day.' Roger informed him, 'and I've no wounds to plague me. But I'd be grateful for the other things; and the sooner I set out the sooner I'll be back.'

'As you will.' Gunston finished his wine and stood up. 'I'll send my servant. He'll help you to get yourself clean and find you fresh linen; then he'll bring you a meal. Meanwhile, I'll arrange about an escort for you.'

After a good wash down in a canvas camp bath, a change of underclothes, and with his hair freshly combed out, Roger felt fully equal to starting on his journey. While he ate, Gunston had had packed up for him in a haversack some emergency rations, and provided him with a sword and pistols. Then they went out to the guide, who was holding the horse on which Roger had ridden from Bahna, and two troopers who were to act as escort.

Before mounting, Roger held out his hand to his old enemy. Whether or not while in Calcutta Gunston would, if given the chance, have seduced Clarissa, Roger had had no grounds whatever for the murderous thoughts he had entertained against him in connection with her disappearance; so he now felt distinctly guilty about them. More, when in Martinique, there had been an occasion when he had used his authority to force Gunston to give up his command as an alternative to being shot; so after the episode of the morning, Gunston might well have used his authority to revenge himself by much harsher measures-​perhaps keeping him a prisoner in irons for a month. Whereas he had behaved very decently, and was doing his best to be helpful.