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Authors: Geoffrey Wilson

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BOOK: The War of the Grail
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The elephant reached the front of the column and the mahout drove his crook into its head to command it to stop.

The howdah glimmered in the sunlight. The drapes and tassels hanging over it swung in the wind.

The elephant knelt and all the troops nearby suddenly dropped to the ground and prostrated themselves. A soldier rushed across to the beast and placed a small ladder against it.

A hand emerged from the howdah and swept the curtains to one side. Then a figure climbed out. He was wearing the ordinary uniform of a European Army officer, but his tunic was festooned with silver braiding and embroidery, and his turban was a blaze of intersecting gold bands.

The man was a general. A
senapati
in Rajthani.

The figure stepped slowly to the ground, put his hands on his hips and turned to gaze up at the fortress.

Jack felt strangely dizzy, as if he were looking at a ghost.

It was Jhala.

20

J
ack let out a small hiss and lowered the glass.

Sonali frowned at him. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course,’ he muttered. But there was a storm in his head now. His fingers gripped the glass so tightly he thought it might break.

Jhala. Why did it have to be Jhala who was sent to crush the rebellion?

And yet, wasn’t it also inevitable? Ever since Jack had learnt that his old commander was still alive and leading the forces in Worcestershire, he’d somehow known it would come to this.

It was always going to be Jhala.

‘What’s that?’ Saleem pointed across the plains.

Jack squinted and saw five riders on caparisoned horses emerge from the mass of troops. One of them was carrying a white flag.

‘They want to talk,’ Jack said. It was standard practice to at least make the offer of a truce before a siege. But it was unlikely the terms would be anything the crusaders could accept.

Sonali put her hand on Jack’s arm. ‘You could talk to them.’

Jack frowned. ‘Me?’

‘About what Rao said.’

Jack went silent. Kanvar, Saleem and the others were looking at him now, obviously wondering what he and Sonali were discussing. Other crusaders were watching as well. This wasn’t the place to talk about the treaty – especially as Kanvar was unlikely to be happy about any deal with the Rajthanans.

‘Down there.’ Jack nodded towards the bottom of the wall.

He set off along the walkway and then headed down the stairs, Sonali pattering after him in her red slippers. They walked together into the ruins and paused beside a line of weathered pillars.

Sonali took his arm again. ‘Now is your chance. Surrender, and the rebels will be spared. Then, when the treaty is ready, you’ll be free.’

Jack sucked on his teeth. ‘It’s not that simple.’

‘It could be. If you want it to be.’

Jack sighed. ‘I’m not sure the Rajthanans will spare us – even if we surrender. Not all of us, at any rate.’

‘But the treaty—’

‘Those Rajthanans might not know about a treaty. And in any case, there is no treaty yet. There might never be.’

Sonali’s brow knitted. ‘We can trust the officers. They will do the honourable thing, surely.’

Jack looked up at the wall. ‘I used to think that. Now I think differently. You didn’t see what happened during the First Crusade.’

Sonali was silent for a moment. ‘I only ask that you try. What harm can it do for you to speak to the officers? There is nothing to lose.’

Jack ran his fingers through his hair. Sonali was making some sense. The rebels were in a desperate situation. Two thousand people could die. If there were any chance of him preventing that, he had to act.

‘There is one thing,’ he said. ‘The general down there – it’s Jhala himself.’

‘General Jhala is leading the troops?’

‘Aye. And the thing is, he’s my old captain. And my guru.’

Sonali’s eyes widened. ‘General Jhala was your guru?’

Jack nodded.

She gripped his arm more tightly. ‘Then you must talk to him. Convince him to spare your people.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Please. You must try.’

Jack rubbed his forehead. There was so much to think about and so little time. Was there really any point in him trying to talk to Jhala? Would that really make any difference? Would Jhala be more lenient with the rebels just because Jack was amongst them? That seemed unlikely.

And yet, as Sonali had said, what did he have to lose by trying? He couldn’t make the rebels’ situation any worse.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

He marched back to the wall and headed towards the gate. Sonali scurried beside him, trying her best to keep up.

Henry was standing beside the gatehouse, just as Jack had expected. The constable was talking to three heralds on horseback, who were evidently preparing to ride out to meet the enemy. One of the men carried a pole with a piece of white linen tied to it.

Jack strode across to the entryway. ‘Henry!’

Henry paused, then turned slowly. He narrowed his eyes and looked Jack up and down. ‘What do you want?’

‘Let me go out there. I’ll talk to the enemy.’

Henry’s face twisted. ‘Send you out there? So you can betray us?’ He waved his hand, as if brushing away a fly. ‘Leave.’ He turned back to the riders.

‘I know the general down there.’ Jack stepped closer. ‘I might be able to reason with him.’

Henry spun round, his eyes glinting. ‘I told you to leave. I’ve no time for this.’

‘If you’d just let me—’

Henry roared and drew his pistol from his belt. He pointed the weapon at Jack’s chest. ‘Leave, before I shoot you.’

Jack’s heart beat faster. He’d known this would be a difficult conversation, but he hadn’t expected this.

He searched Henry’s face. The constable was enraged, his cheeks bright red. Jack wasn’t going to get any sense out of him. There was no point trying to talk about it further.

Jack raised his hands and stepped backwards. ‘All right, I’m leaving.’

He walked back to Sonali. Her lips were bunched and a deep frown cut into her forehead.

‘Is there some other way you can get a message to your guru?’ she asked.

‘Not easily,’ Jack said.

‘There must be something you can do.’

Jack rubbed his chin, his mind racing through various options. ‘There is one thing I could try.’

‘What?’

‘Come with me. I’ll show you.’

The Earl of Shropshire had set up residence in a ruined palace not far from the east wall of the fortress. It must once have been a grand building, adorned with turrets and domes, but now it was a pile of weathered masonry. The stonework was porous with age and mottled with lichens. The intricate geometrical designs that would have encrusted the walls had long ago worn down to vague lines and bulges.

Jack stood with Sonali before what was left of the arched, Moorish entrance. Two men-at-arms stood guard outside.

‘I wish to speak with the earl,’ Jack said.

One of the guards – a bearded, stocky man – shook his head. ‘The earl is resting.’

‘It’s urgent. It’s about the army.’

The guard frowned. ‘I said no. Now leave.’

Jack was considering searching for another way in, when a thin man with long dark hair appeared from inside the palace. He walked with a limp, dragging one leg behind him.

Jack recognised the man – he was a member of the Crusader Council. Jack had met him once at Lord Fitzalan’s castle.

What was his name? Jack thought quickly, and then he remembered it – Sir Levin.

‘What’s going on?’ Levin asked the guards.

‘Just telling this man to leave, sir,’ the bearded guard replied.

Levin raised his head and his eyes flickered when they noticed Jack. He wagged his finger. ‘I know you, don’t I?’

Jack bowed his head slightly. ‘Jack Casey, sir. We met at Newcastle. I led the expedition to Scotland.’

Levin nodded slowly. ‘That’s it. I remember now. I’m glad to see you made it here. Not many did.’

‘You too, sir.’ Jack looked down for a moment. ‘I heard about Sir Alfred.’

‘Ah yes.’ Levin stared into space. ‘It is a great tragedy. But then there are so many tragedies these days.’

‘Sir, if I may, I need to speak to the earl.’

Levin studied Jack closely. ‘Why is that?’

‘I know the general leading the enemy troops out there. Jhala. I might be able to strike a deal.’

Levin raised an eyebrow. ‘A strange idea.’ He rolled his tongue around in his mouth. ‘But I remember our discussion now. You told me then you knew General Jhala.’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘Very well. You’d better come in.’

Levin stepped aside to admit Jack, then held his hand out to stop Sonali. ‘Not you.’

Jack looked back. ‘She’s a friend.’

Levin raised his chin and eyed Sonali haughtily. ‘We will not have a heathen in this hall. Not at a time like this.’

‘It’s all right,’ Sonali said to Jack. ‘You go. I’ll wait here.’

Jack nodded. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Sir Levin led the way down a wide passageway, hobbling as quickly as he could with his bad leg. Jack couldn’t recall Levin having a limp previously. Perhaps he’d been injured in the recent fighting.

They came out in what must once have been a grand hall, but which was now a roofless courtyard. The paving stones were cracked and largely overgrown with grass. Vines hung like streamers over the walls. Arches, niches and windows encircled the chamber, but they were now so worn they appeared to be melting.

On the far side of the room, an elderly man was slumped on a large, carved chair. He wore a red robe, trimmed with ermine, and a grey cloak was draped over his shoulders. His silver hair was lank and his face was pale and drawn. Several page boys were bustling about him, but he waved them away as Jack approached.

Jack went down on one knee. ‘My lord.’

The earl flicked his finger in Jack’s general direction and said in a cracked voice, ‘Stand up. There is no need for ceremony now.’ He took a rasping breath. He appeared to be having trouble breathing. ‘Who are you?’

Jack stood up and put his hands behind his back. ‘Jack Casey, sir.’

‘I can vouch for this man.’ Levin stood near to Jack. ‘He was well thought of by Sir Alfred.’

‘Oh.’ The earl’s eyes glazed over. ‘If only Alfred were with us now.’ He went silent for a moment, then drew himself up straighter in his chair. ‘Very well. What is it you want?’

‘It’s about General Jhala,’ Jack said. ‘I used to serve under him. Before the First Crusade. I’d like to meet with him to discuss terms.’

‘Terms?’ The earl licked his lips and took another rattling breath. ‘What terms can we possibly expect? We are viewed as traitors by the heathens. I have broken all the treaties my ancestors signed with them. We cannot expect fair treatment.’

‘I understand, sir. But I believe—’

‘Stop!’ someone shouted from the entrance to the palace.

Jack turned and saw Henry striding into the room with an entourage of two soldiers. His jaw was clenched and his eyes glittered.

Henry bowed to the earl. ‘Forgive me for bursting in here, my lord.’ He pointed at Jack. ‘But when I heard this man was here, I had to come quickly.’

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Levin said sharply.

Henry glanced at Levin and then back at the earl. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, seemingly uncertain what to say. Although he’d been put in charge of the fortress, Levin and the Earl of Shropshire were still his superiors.

Finally, he said, ‘This man, Casey, is a liar and a traitor. He is a secret servant of the heathens – and has been for a long time.’

Levin narrowed his eyes. ‘That is a strange allegation. Jack was always praised by Sir Alfred. And we all know it was Jack who was chosen to lead the expedition to Scotland.’

‘And we all know he failed in that expedition,’ Henry snapped, then quickly seemed to realise he’d spoken too abruptly. He said in a softer tone, ‘Sorry, sir. I just meant that I have reason to believe Casey cannot be trusted.’

‘What is your evidence for making these claims, Constable Ward?’ the earl said.

Henry ground his teeth, shot a look at Jack and then faced the earl again. ‘He consorts with the enemy. There is one right outside here at the moment. A witch.’

BOOK: The War of the Grail
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