Текст книги "The Generals"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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‘Captain Kirkpatrick,’ said Arthur.

‘Sir?’

‘You speak the language far better than me, so you can translate what I have to say. Tell the Nizam I wish to speak to him alone.’

As the old man listened to Kirkpatrick his eyes widened in outrage and he snapped something back, clenching his fist and waving it at the two Englishmen.

‘He says, how dare we enter his private quarters, and issue such an outrageous order. He says his chamberlain is a mangy son of a whore who deserves to be torn in two for letting two infidels enter the gardens of his master.’

Arthur ignored the quaking chamberlain, who had dropped to his knees and buried his head in his hands as he muttered a string of appeals for mercy.

‘Tell him to dismiss these people. We must speak to him at once.’

Again the Nizam shouted and blustered, until Arthur sharply held up a hand to silence him. The Nizam shrank back from the sudden gesture before recovering his poise, folding his arms and glaring back defiantly. His guests, the dancers and the musicians watched in silence, hardly daring to move.

‘Tell him that he must do as I say, and that I speak on the direct authority of the Governor General. If he refuses, then the treaty with England is forfeit . . .’

As Kirkpatrick translated the Nizam stared at Arthur, his lips compressed into a thin line.Then there was silence and at last the Nizam’s gaze faltered. He swung round to his followers and shouted an instruction, clapping his hands to send them away as speedily as possible.The guests scrambled up from their cushions and joined the dancers and the musicians as they stumbled through the trees towards the entrance to the Nizam’s garden. As the last sounds of their departure faded away Arthur gestured towards the couches closest to the Nizam dais.

‘Ask him if we might sit at his side.’

The civility of the sudden request caught the Nizam off guard and he nodded and indicated that they should sit with a graceful sweep of his hand. Then, gathering up his robe, he sat on his couch and poised himself for a private audience with the two Englishmen. The chamberlain remained where he lay, crouched and quite still, trying his hardest to be forgotten. Arthur took a deep breath and began.

‘I have heard that the Nizam is considering going back on his agreement. Regardless of all previous treaties he may have made with representatives of the Company and England, he should be aware that the new Governor General is a man of his word. Which means he will do his utmost to guarantee the safety of the Nizam, whatever the cost to England in men, money or prestige. In return, the Governor General expects the Nizam to honour his side of the treaty with equal diligence.’ Arthur waited for this to be translated and fully digested before he continued. ‘Therefore, the Nizam will understand my frustration, as representative of the Governor General, when I learned that he had decided not to disarm the French battalions by the time specified in the treaty.’

The Nizam burst into a torrent of explanation which Kirkpatrick struggled to keep up with.

‘Sir, the gist of it is that we do not understand how delicate the situation has become in Hyderabad. He requests that we give him ten days to negotiate a peaceful disbanding of the battalions, and that your column remain encamped outside the city until then. He gives his word that he remains a loyal ally of England and that his soldiers still hold him in sufficient regard and affection to bend to his will. He also says that the concessions he made in the treaty were far greater than those demanded by French representatives who seek an alliance with Hyderabad.’

‘Is that so?’ Arthur steeled his expression. ‘Then tell him that if I even remotely suspect him of trying to cut a deal with the French, the treaty is forfeit and the four Company battalions camped outside Hyderabad, together with the two garrisoned within the city, will quit his kingdom and march back to Madras at first light tomorrow. And then he will have to deal with his French-officered battalions by himself. I know that those soldiers are verging on mutiny over the prospect of being disbanded. I imagine that without the Company battalions to protect him the Nizam’s reign might be ended within a matter of days, at the very most.’

The Nizam heard the translation with growing agitation, but before he could respond Arthur held up a hand. ‘If the Nizam is not willing to give the order for the disbanding of the French battalions, then it is my duty to handle the matter myself. If the Nizam attempts to interefere with this process in any way, then once I have finished dismantling the French battalions I will start to dismantle his kingdom.’

Kirkpatrick drew in a sharp breath and looked at his superior with a warning expression. But Arthur was adamant. This was a test of nerves. The Nizam’s had clearly failed him and now, for the first time, all the gambling instincts that Arthur had once possessed at Dublin Castle served him well. He knew that the stakes were high and had already calculated the risk of the plan he had formed in his mind. He had called the Nizam’s bluff. Of course, all that stood between Arthur and winning the round was several thousand soldiers under the command of men from a nation that had sworn to destroy England and all she stood for.

‘We’re leaving now. Just let the Nizam know that by this time tomorrow his difficulties will all be over.’

The Nizam muttered a reply as they rose to their feet, and Arthur turned to his subordinate for a translation.

‘And if they are not?’

Arthur smiled. ‘Then, more than likely, all three of us will be dead.’

Chapter 35

The streets were bathed in the fitful light of the moon as scattered shreds of cloud passed slowly across the night sky. Dark figures padded down the streets winding through the outskirts of Hyderabad. They moved quietly, having abandoned their boots a short distance from the city. They carried the minimum of equipment and the only sounds above the soft slap of their feet were the occasional whispered orders, passed from man to man.Arthur was leading the sepoy companies in person, since he could not trust any other officer with the task at hand. Kirkpatrick, who knew the route through the city well enough, even under the cloak of darkness, jogged along with the advance guard, a short distance ahead of Arthur. Both men had exchanged their military boots for soft-skinned shoes and were bareheaded, carrying only a brace of pistols and their swords. For Arthur’s plan to stand any chance of succeeding it was vital that the small column remained undetected until it reached its goal. The rest of the men from the Company battalions were out of sight just outside the city, waiting until the hour before dawn to enter Hyderabad.

The men of the advance guard stopped and knelt down. Arthur raised his hand to halt the rest of the column and went forward to squat beside Kirkpatrick.

‘Why have we stopped?’

‘We’re there, sir.’ Kirkpatrick pointed down the street ahead of them. A short distance away the street gave on to a large open space. Arthur realised this must be the vast parade ground that Kirkpatrick had described to him earlier. On the far side Arthur could see the low ramparts of the Nizam’s army camp.

‘Where’s the arsenal?’

‘You can’t see it from here, sir. It’s in a fortified bastion on the far corner of the camp, away from the city.’

‘And the water gate?’

‘At the end of a side street, not far from the square. We turn off here and join the street close to the parade ground.’

‘All right then, lead on.’

Kirkpatrick nodded, then turned to his men and whispered the order to move.They rose up like ghosts and advanced a little further down the street before turning into a narrow alley. Arthur marked the spot carefully and then went back to the rest of the men and waved them on. The alley wound down a small slope and the hot night air became even more humid as the rank smell of dung fires and sewage filled Arthur’s nostrils. They had nearly reached the small crossroads at the bottom of the slope when a door opened just ahead of Arthur and a man stepped into the street, shouting angrily as he spied the men moving through the shadows towards him. At that moment the moon cleared a thicker cloud and the alley was bathed in moonlight, revealing not only the number of men moving down the alley, but also their uniforms, and Arthur’s white skin.The man’s tirade was cut off abruptly, then he muttered some curse and dived back through the doorway.

‘Damn!’ Arthur growled and jumped after him, thrusting his weight against the door closing in his face. The door crashed inwards and he heard a grunt as the man inside fell back against the wall. Arthur drew out one of his pistols, holding it tightly by the muzzle. The man stumbled out from behind the door, clutching his hand to his nose, and Arthur swung the butt of his pistol down hard on his head. It connected with a soft thud and the man grunted with pain and then collapsed, out cold. There was a shrill call of panic from further within the house and Arthur glanced up and saw the dim shape of a woman watching him from an interior doorway. A child was clutching her leg.

‘Shhhh!’ Arthur raised the pistol and reversed the grip so the barrel was now pointed at the ceiling. He whispered to them in Hindoostani. ‘Not a word, or I’ll shoot. Understand?’

The woman nodded vigorously and backed away into the darkness, drawing her child after her. Arthur looked down for a moment at the man he had felled, then leaned over and shifted him into a more comfortable position on the floor. He closed the door as he stepped back into the alley. His heart was beating fast, the pounding in his ears making it hard to listen to the streets around him. There was no sound of any disturbance, no cry of alarm or challenge from the direction of the camp.

‘Christ, that was close,’ he muttered, wiping the perspiration from his brow. He eased the pistol back into his belt and waved his men forward again. Kirkpatrick had left a man at the junction to indicate the route to those who followed and Arthur and his column turned towards the camp. One of the advance guard whistled softly and the column halted at once, the men freezing as they hugged the shaded side of the alley.A short way off Arthur could see the ramparts looming above the crazy angles of the rooflines each side of the alley. The faint outline of a sentry crossed Arthur’s field of vision and he let out a sigh of relief as the man passed from sight.

The column eased forward again. Just ahead the alley widened out to accommodate a long trench, that had been covered over with slabs of stone where it passed under the alley which led up to a small, grated arch at the foot of the wall. A foul stench filled the air and Arthur wrinkled his nose as he glanced down at the stinking trickle of filth that ran along the bottom of the trench: the outflow from the main latrine block of the camp. Kirkpatrick and his men stole forward on either side of the trench until they reached the wall, and then carefully clambered down into the channel. A moment later the soft sounds of gentle scraping carried back up the alley.

Arthur and the sepoys remained silent and motionless as Kirkpatrick’s men worked away at the bars of the grille, loosening one after the other and placing them carefully at the base of the rampart. Work had to stop each time the sentry returned to this stretch of the wall. He crossed above the sewage outflow with a maddening measured tread, and as soon as the sounds of his boots faded away the work began again. It took far longer than Arthur had anticipated and he found himself glancing repeatedly at the skyline above the roofs of the city for the first sign of the coming dawn.

Eventually a dim shape climbed up over the side of the trench and trotted back towards Arthur.

‘Colonel sahib?’

‘Here,’ Arthur responded softly. ‘Keep your voice down.’

‘A thousand pardons. Kirkpatrick sahibsays the grate is cleared. He’s sending a small party of men to deal with the sentry.’

‘Very good. Tell him to let me know the instant the way is open.’

The sepoy nodded and hurried back towards the rampart. A short while later Kirkpatrick’s voice called out, as loudly as he dared, ‘All clear, sir.’

Arthur emerged from the shadows into the middle of the alley where his men could see him clearly. He raised his arm and then swept it down in the direction of the ramparts. The men hurried forward, down into the stinking trench, and doubled over as they splashed beneath the wall of the camp and emerged on the far side, spreading out to either side of the latrine drain. Arthur was one of the first men through, and made his way over to Kirkpatrick. Behind him the sepoys filed under the wall and spread out in the shadows beneath the ramparts.

Arthur glanced towards the eastern horizon. ‘We have to move fast. It’ll be light soon.You know what you have to do. Any last questions?’

‘None, sir.’

‘Good. Then you’d better go. Remember, there’s to be no killing, if you can avoid it. There’s to be no blood on British hands.’

Kirkpatrick nodded solemnly. ‘I understand, sir.’

‘Then I’ll see you afterwards.’

‘In this life or the next, eh, sir?’ Kirkpatrick grinned nervously.

‘If it comes to that. Now go.’

Kirkpatrick saluted and turned to trot away to the two companies under his command. He gestured to them to follow him and led the way along the foot of the wall towards the arsenal. Arthur waited a moment, listening for any indication that the alarm had been raised. But the camp was silent and Arthur whispered the order for his men to advance in the opposite direction. They passed several huge barrack blocks that stretched into the heart of the Nizam’s camp before they reached the stabling for the officers’ horses that Kirkpatrick had told him of. On the other side of a generous riding ring was the fine two-storey officers’ mess and sleeping quarters. A large lantern cast a pool of light over the entrance, either side of which a guard sat on a bench, musket in hand.Again Arthur glanced to the east, and this time there was an unmistakable smear of light along the horizon.There was no time left to attempt an indirect approach. Already, the first men would be stirring.

Arthur realised at once that he had only one chance. He turned to the subadar at the head of the two companies stretched out behind him. ‘I need a good man to help me. Quickly.’

The subadar called along the line and a moment later a burly man with a square-cut beard emerged from the darkness and stood to attention before Arthur.

‘Come with me,’ Arthur ordered in Hindoostani. ‘When we reach the entrance to that building we must silence the sentries. When I give the order and not before.’

‘Yes, sahib.’

‘All right, then . . .Subadar, when you see me wave, bring the sepoys over on the double.’ He turned back to the thickset man. ‘Come with me.’

Arthur took a deep breath and set off across the riding ring, striding boldly towards the entrance to the headquarters building. His heart was beating fast and his mind raced, and he was aware of every detail around him, every sound and smell, as his senses acquired an extraordinary acuity that he had experienced only a handful of times before in his life. As they neared the sentries, the two men finally caught sight of them and stood up, grasping their muskets in both hands and making ready to challenge the two figures striding towards them. Then, as Arthur had hoped, they noticed his pale skin and officer’s shell jacket, and quickly stood to attention, grounding their muskets. He maintained his pace as he approached the entrance, as if he was just returning from some duty in the camp. As they passed between the sentries Arthur whipped out his pistol and called out, ‘Now!’

The sepoy suddenly lurched to the side, ramming the butt of his weapon into the side of the sentry’s head and felling him with an explosive grunt. Arthur swung his pistol at the other man’s head, but at the last moment the sentry detected the coming blow and scrambled back so that it brushed past his head harmlessly. Arthur was momentarily caught off balance and the sentry instinctively swung his musket butt towards him. Arthur felt a blow to his chest as the enemy musket caught him in the ribs, winding him.Then, before the shortage of air crippled him, he dropped his pistol and balled his right hand into a fist and punched it into the man’s face, driving his head back against the headquarters wall.

Arthur helped the sepoy to drag the sentries to some nearby shrubs and roll the unconscious men into the undergrowth, out of sight. Then he returned to the wavering glow beneath the lantern, drew his sword and beckoned to the men on the far side of the riding ring. A moment later the darkness was filled with swarming shadows as the sepoys swept forward.

Arthur strode inside the building, into the grand entrance hall lined with a dark wood wainscot above which hung various hunting trophies: the skins of tigers and the stuffed heads of boar and deer. A double doorway to the right opened on to a huge banqueting hall and to the left another opened on to an equally large space filled with tables and chairs with a bar at the far end. An officer sat in a chair sound asleep, head slumped back as he snored gutturally. Footsteps pounded across the wooden floorboards of the hall as the sepoys joined their commander. Arthur called the subadars of the companies to him and issued their orders.

‘Upstairs.Take every officer that you can find and bring them all down here. I want French officers taken to the banqueting hall.The rest go into the mess lounge. Remember, no harm is to be done.You understand?’

‘ Acha, sahib!’ They saluted, and then called their men after them as they pounded up the staircase at the end of the hall and entered the first floor sleeping quarters of the Nizam’s officers.At once there was the crashing of doors being flung open and the first of the sleepy shouts of anger and outrage. A small door opened at the end of the hall and a stout, bleary-eyed man in a silk dressing gown fastened with a wide leather belt stumbled into the hall.

‘What the bloody hell is the meaning of this?’ he bellowed at Arthur, then blinked. ‘Who the hell are you, sir?’

‘Colonel Arthur Wellesley, of His Majesty’s 33rd Foot,’ Arthur said formally. ‘And you, sir?’

‘Major MacDonald, quartermaster to the Nizam and president of the officers’ mess. Now then, what’s going on here?’ He glanced up the stairs as the thud of footsteps and shouting reverberated down the length of the hall. ‘Sounds like we’re being invaded.’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Arthur replied. ‘I’m here on the orders of the Nizam. He requires the temporary detention of all the officers of his battalions garrisoned in Hyderabad city. That includes you, so if you wouldn’t mind?’ Arthur gestured to the mess lounge.

MacDonald folded his arms and puffed out his chest. ‘I think not, sir. How do I know you are speaking the truth?’

Arthur drew his sword. ‘That’s how. Now move.’

MacDonald stumbled back a pace then edged towards the lounge door and hurried across to one of the cane chairs and slumped down. With a loud chorus of shouts the first of the officers taken from their rooms were escorted downstairs and separated into the two large rooms overlooking the riding ring. The officers continued to shout their angry protests at their treatment as the grinning sepoys thrust them into chairs and kept them covered with their bayonets. When the last of them had been brought downstairs Arthur pulled a chair into the hall and climbed on to it so that he could be seen by all in both rooms, and raised his hands to quiet them.

‘I need your attention, gentlemen!’

The protests continued as loudly as ever and Arthur had no wish to seem like some ineffectual schoolteacher. He drew one of his pistols, cocked it, raised it towards the ceiling and fired. In the enclosed hall the detonation of the powder charge was thunderous and silenced the men at once. A moment later a large lump of plaster crashed to the floor, missing Arthur by inches.

He glanced at the shattered fragments on the floor with raised eyebrows, then looked up and drew a deep breath to begin his address before the officers recovered from their shock and began to protest again.

‘Gentlemen! My apologies to you for this rude awakening. The Nizam requires that you are held here for a short time while a small piece of business is attended to. You are quite safe, provided that you sit still and make no attempt to escape or resist my men.’

‘What is going on here?’ a voice demanded. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Your questions will be answered in good time. But for now, I would be obliged if you would keep your mouths shut, or my men will be obliged to do it for you.’

The threat was understood well enough and the sepoys lining the rooms held their weapons ready to reinforce their commander’s words.When he was satisfied that the officers were subdued Arthur beckoned to one of the subadars.

‘I’m taking four of your men. Keep this lot under control. No one is to leave the rooms under any pretext.’

‘Yes, sahib.’

There was a thin grey light in the sky as Arthur trotted away from the headquarters building and made for the arsenal on the far side of the camp. A few early risers were sitting outside their barracks and laying the morning cooking fires. They stood up with vaguely confused expressions as the officer and sepoys passed by, and then returned to their fireplaces.The only shot that had been fired was from Arthur’s pistol and there was no reason for the Nizam’s men to suspect that anything was amiss. As far as they were concerned he was just another European officer up early on some official business, as Arthur had hoped they would think.They reached the squat mass of the camp’s arsenal without being challenged and Arthur was relieved to see that Kirkpatrick had stationed his men inside the building, out of sight, so that only a few figures were visible on the ramparts above the arsenal, and on guard at its entrance. As Arthur and his men approached Kirkpatrick appeared in the doorway to meet them.

‘Any problems?’

‘No, sir.The guards didn’t put up a fight.Went down into one of the storerooms as meek as lambs.’

‘Good work.’ Arthur looked up at the sky and saw that there was now enough light to see clearly across the camp. More men and women were emerging from their barracks, ready to prepare their morning meal. Outside the city the four Company battalions would be beginning their march, as Dalrymple and Malcolm led their men from their barracks towards the camp of the Nizam’s army. ‘Now we just have to wait for the others, and pray that the Nizam’s men don’t guess what is happening right under their noses.’

The sun rose over the camp and soon thousands of men, women and children had emerged from their quarters and gathered round their fires to eat. Arthur watched from the ramparts of the arsenal. Only a handful of his men were visible from outside the building and the two sepoys guarding the entrance wore jackets taken from the men imprisoned in the storeroom.

Kirkpatrick was squatting next to him and chewing the end of his thumb as he kept glancing towards the nearest gateway into the camp. ‘They should be here by now. What’s keeping them, damn it?’

Arthur glanced round and saw that one of the sepoys was looking at them. He turned back to gaze over the camp and muttered, ‘Keep your voice down. What kind of effect do you think your fretting will have on the men?’

Kirkpatrick started guiltily. ‘Sorry, sir.’

‘I understand you are nervous.’ Arthur smiled. ‘So am I. The trick is not to let it show. Think on that and you’ll be fine.’

‘Yes, sir . . . Thank you.’

They were interrupted by a chorus of shouts from over by the barracks. Arthur squinted his tired eyes and saw a group of men running from the direction of the headquarters building, shouting and gesticulating wildly as they ran. The Nizam’s soldiers hurried back into their quarters and began to emerge with their weapons to join the growing crowd.

‘They’re headed this way,’ Arthur said quietly. ‘Damn . . . All right, then, Kirkpatrick. The time for stealth is over. Call those two sentries in and close and barricade the doors and windows of the arsenal. We may have to hold them off for a while before the other columns turn up.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Kirkpatrick hurried away to carry out his orders and a moment later Arthur heard the heavy timber door thud home below him. The sepoys who had been hidden below came padding up on to the ramparts and took up position, muskets loaded and ready at half-cock. There was a roar from the crowd as they saw the arsenal being closed up, and then scores of heads appearing at the battlements. The mob surged forward and started battering at the door with their muskets, to no effect. One of Arthur’s men rose up and took aim with his weapon.

‘Lower your gun!’ Arthur bellowed at him in Hindoostani. ‘Now!’

When the man had dropped down again Arthur stood up so that all his men could see him and drew a deep breath so that he would be heard over the din of the crowd.‘We’re safe enough here.They have no powder or shot for their weapons.They can’t hurt us, so hold your fire.’

That was not entirely true, he reflected. That mob would do more than hurt Arthur and his men if they found a way into the arsenal. But it was a solid enough building and would keep the Nizam’s men at bay for a while yet. Long enough for the other columns to arrive.

Then he saw some of the men at the rear of the crowd take up a solid-looking water trough. They emptied the water out of it, then lifted it up and bore it through the crowd towards the arsenal. A makeshift battering ram, he realised with a sick feeling. He must not let them have a chance to use it against the doors.

‘Stand up!’ Arthur shouted to his men. ‘Present!’

The muskets swung up and levelled as the sepoys took aim on the mob. At once there were cries of terror and men flinched and fell back. Arthur leaned over the ramparts and stretched his arms open.

‘Hear me! Hear me, I say!’

It took a while for the frightened protesters to grow silent, and still scores of them were slipping back into the heart of the crowd.

‘I am Colonel Wellesley. I am here on the authority of the Nizam. He has given orders for the disbandment of the French-officered battalions.You will lay down your weapons and return to barracks now!’

This provoked a fresh outburst of rage from the crowd and the makeshift battering ram surged forward again. Arthur turned to the section of men covering the rampart over the entrance. ‘Take aim on those men carrying the water trough!’

The muskets went up to their cheeks as the men squinted down the barrels towards the approaching crowd.

‘Cock your weapons, but do not fire unless I give the order!’

The sepoys thumbed back the cocks, ready to fire a volley of heavy lead balls into the crowd in front of the arsenal. The ram came on, and there was a jarring thud as it struck home against the wall.

‘Shoot over their heads!’ Arthur called to the nearest men and they raised their barrels.‘Fire!’The volley roared out with a series of stabs of fire and a small rolling bank of gunpowder smoke.The crowd paused for only an instant before they realised the shots had been fired wide deliberately. Then they came forward again and there was another thud from below. Arthur swallowed. The time had almost come when he would have to open fire on the crowd in order to survive.

‘Reload, and prepare volley fire!’

As his men bit off the ends of the tallow paper cartridges and spat the ball down the muzzles of their muskets a sudden movement drew Arthur’s eye to the main gateway into the camp. A column of men was emerging through it, the colours of the East India Company at their head. At once he was giddy with relief.‘They’re coming!’ He thrust his arm out in the direction of the new arrivals. ‘They’re here!’

His men raised a cheer now, and down below as word of the relief column flew through the crowd they turned away from the arsenal and clutched their unloaded weapons restlessly, making little sound as they faced the new threat.

There was another shout from the men on the ramparts and Arthur saw a sepoy excitedly pointing to another column emerging between the barracks of the Nizam’s army. Arthur indulged the sepoys for a moment before he ordered them to still their tongues. A silence hung over the camp as Arthur turned to the crowd.

‘Lay down your weapons and return to your quarters.’

‘What? And let you slaughter us like dogs!’A voice cried back.

‘No! There will be no killing. Lay down your arms and get back to your quarters, now. If not, you will be fired on.’

One of the men tried to defy him, standing on an upturned washing tub to harangue his comrades. It was clear from the crowd’s reaction that they would be easily stirred into action by their speaker and Arthur realised that now was the time for ruthlessness.

‘Take aim. Prepare to fire . . . on my word . . .’ He leaned forward to address the crowd again.‘This is your last warning. Lay down your weapons and return to the barracks or you will be shot down!’

For a moment none of them reacted and Arthur was aware that the other columns had entered the camp and were already forming a firing line.Then one of the Nizam’s men on the fringe of the crowd lowered his weapon to the ground and hurried away. Another man followed his lead, then another, until the edges of the crowd were melting away and then those at the heart of mob also began to surrender their weapons, leaving their provocatory leader alone on his tub, still imploring them to come back and take the arsenal. Eventually, he too gave up, shoulders slumping as he climbed down from the upended tub and beat a retreat back to the barracks. Arthur watched him go, and saw that the others were gathering up their comrades, the women and the children and disappearing into the barrack blocks. Soon there was little sign of life around the camp and wisps of steam and smoke from the fires lifted lazily into the morning air. Arthur felt the tension of the last few moments drain from his body to be replaced by a blessed sense of relief that the crisis had passed and he had won the day, without any bloodshed. He idly hoped that all his victories could be as bloodless as this, then cursed himself for being such a naïve fool.