The Red Year: A Story of the Indian MutinyTracy, Louis
History
The Red Year: A Story of the Indian Mutiny
Tracy, Louis
India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
With that he walked coolly into the roadway and stepped out leisurely
towards the Lahore Gate. But he found the massive door closed and the
drawbridge raised, and a gruff voice bade him begone, as the gate would
not be opened until the King's orders were received.
CHAPTER XVI
IN THE VORTEX
Malcolm was not one to throw his life away without an effort to save it.
Once, during a visit to Delhi, Captain Douglas, the ill-fated commandant
of the Palace Guards, had taken him to his quarters for tiffin. As it
happened, the two entered by the Delhi Gate and walked through the
gardens and corridors to Douglas's rooms, which were situated over the
Lahore Gate. Thus he possessed a vague knowledge of the topography of
the citadel, and his visit that morning had refreshed his memory to a
slight extent. On that slender reed he based some hope of escape. In any
event he prayed that his ruse might better Chumru's chances, and he
promised himself a soldier's death if brought to bay inside the palace.
Crossing the drawbridge at a fast gallop, he saw a number of guards
looking at him wonderingly. It occurred to him that the exciting events
of the early hours might have led to orders being given on the question
of admitting sepoys in large numbers. If that were so, he might gain
time by a bit of sheer audacity. At any rate, there was no harm in
trying. As he clattered through the gateway he shouted excitedly:
"Close and bar the door! None must be admitted without the King's
special order!"
The spectacle of a well-mounted sepoy officer, blood-stained and
travel-worn, who arrived in such desperate haste and was evidently
pursued by a body of horse, so startled the attendants that they banged
and bolted the great door without further ado.
Already the story was going the rounds that the precious life of Bahadur
Shah had actually been threatened by the overbearing sepoys--what more
likely than that this hard-riding officer was coming to apprise his
majesty of a genuine plot, while the flying squadron in the rear was
striving to cut him down before the fateful message was delivered?
Not to create too great a stir, Malcolm pulled up both horses at the
entrance to the arcade.
He called a chaprassi and bade him hold Chumru's steed. Then, learning
from the uproar at the gate that the guards were obeying his
instructions literally, he went on at an easier pace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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