Flashman in the Great Game. George Fraser MacDonald

by the Sirkar, short of removing from Jhansi and recognising your adopted son, would satisfy your grievances – or go some way to satisfying them.’

      She came up on one elbow at that, frowning at me with those magnificent eyes. For what I was hinting at – without the least authority, mind you – was concessions, and devil a smell of those she’d had in four years.

      ‘Why,’ says she, thoughtfully. ‘They know well enough. They have been told my grievances, my just demands, for four years now. And yet they have denied me. How can repetition serve?’

      ‘A disappointed client may find a new advocate,’ says I, with my most disarming smile, and she gave me a long stare, and then got up and walked over to the balustrade, looking out across the city. ‘If your highness would speak your mind to me, openly—’

      ‘Wait,’ says she, and stood for a moment, frowning, before she turned back to me. She couldn’t think what to make of this, she was suspicious, and didn’t dare to hope, and yet she was wondering. God, she was a black beauty, sure enough – if I’d been the Sirkar, she could have had Jhansi and a pound of tea with it, just for half an hour on the daybed.

      ‘If Lord Palmerston,’ says she at last – and old Pam himself would have been tempted to restore her throne just to hear the pretty way she said ‘Lud Pammer-stan’ – ‘wishes me to restate the wrongs that have been done me, it can only be because he has discovered some interest to serve by redressing them – or promising redress. I do not know what that interest is, and you will not tell me. It is no charitable desire to set right injustices done to my Jhansi—’ and she lifted her head proudly. ‘That is certain. But if he wishes my friendship, for whatever purpose of his own, he may give an earnest of his good will by restoring the revenues which should have come to me since my husband’s death, but which the Sirkar has confiscated.’ She stopped there, chin up, challenging, so I said:

      ‘And after that, highness? What else?’

      ‘Will he concede as much? Will the Company?’

      ‘I can’t say,’ says I. ‘But if a strong case can be made – when I report to Lord Palmerston …’

      ‘And you will put the case, yourself?’

      ‘That is my mission, maharaj’.’

      ‘And such other … cases … as I may advance?’ She looked the question, and there was just a hint of a smile on her mouth. ‘So. And I must first put them to you – and no doubt you will suggest to me how they may best be phrased … or modified. You will advise, and … persuade?’

      ‘Well,’ says I, ‘I’ll help your highness as I can …’

      To my astonishment she laughed, with a flash of white teeth, her head back, and shaking most delightfully.

      ‘Oh, the subtlety of the British!’ cries she. ‘Such delicacy, like an elephant in a swamp! Lord Palmerston wishes, for his own mysterious reasons of policy, to placate the Rani of Jhansi. So he invites her to repeat the petition which has been repeatedly denied for years. But does he send a lawyer, or an advocate, or even an official of the Company? No – just a simple soldier, who will discuss the petition with her, and how it may best be presented to his lordship. Could not a lawyer have advised her better?’ She folded her hands and came slowly forward, sauntering round me. ‘But how many lawyers are tall and broad-shouldered and … aye, quite handsome – and persuasive as Flashman bahadur?^fn1 Not a doubt but he is best fitted to convince a silly female that a modest claim is most likely to succeed – and she will abate her demands for him, poor foolish girl, and be less inclined to insist on fine points, and stand upon her rights. Is this not so?’

      ‘Highness, you misunderstand entirely … I assure you—’

      ‘Do I?’ says she, scornfully, but laughing still. ‘I am not sixteen, colonel; I am an old lady of twenty-nine. And I may not know Lord Palmerston’s purpose, but I understand his methods. Well, well. It may not have occurred to his lordship that even a poor Indian lady may be persuasive in her turn.’ And she eyed me with some amusement, confident in her own beauty, the damned minx, and the effect it was having on me. ‘He paid me a poor compliment, do you not think?’

      What could I do but grin back at her? ‘Do his lordship justice, highness,’ says I. ‘He’d never seen you. How many have, since you are purdah-nishin?’^fn2

      ‘Enough to have told him what I am like, I should have hoped. How did he instruct you – humour her, whatever she is, fair or foul, young and silly or old and ugly? Charm her, so that she keeps her demands cheap? Captivate her, as only a hero can.’ She stirred an eyebrow. ‘Who could resist the champion who killed the four Gilzais – where was it?’

      ‘At Mogala, in Afghanistan – as your highness heard at the gate. Was it to test me that you had the Pathan spit on my shadow?’

      ‘His insolence needed no instruction,’ says she. ‘He is now being flogged for it.’ She turned away from me and sauntered back into the durbar room. ‘You may have the tongue which insulted you torn out, if you wish,’ she added over her shoulder.

      That brought me up sharp, I can tell you. We’d been rallying away famously, and I’d all but forgotten who and what she was – an Indian prince, with all the capricious cruelty of her kind under that lovely hide. Unless she was just mocking me with the reminder – whether or no, I would play my character.