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.