BOOK EXCERPT

Queen of Fire by Devika Rangachari

- Penguin India

Damodar stood uncertainly by the fort’s main entrance. His mother was surrounded by her officials and companions and seemed to be issuing rapid instructions to them. A horse waited in the shadows—he could hear its whinny and the occasional stamp of its hooves. The night air was pleasant after the intense heat of the day but he was too ill at ease to enjoy it.

At long last, his mother broke away from the crowd and came towards him. He raised anxious eyes to her face as she knelt beside him and took his hands in hers. ‘My son, we have to leave Jhansi now.’ Her tone was gentle but the words smote his heart.

‘Where are we going?’ he whispered.

‘To a place called Kalpi, not far from here. It’s just you and me with some other soldiers, but there might be some dangers ahead, so you must obey my orders at all times.’

Fearsome visions instantly began to float through his mind and the giant was squeezing his stomach so hard that he felt as if he would throw up at any moment.

‘Is it the British? Is that why we must go? Have we lost to them?’

She took a deep breath and stood up. ‘Not yet, my son, not yet—but we must go if you are to be king of Jhansi someday. And now, you must be brave. As the king, you will be. Promise me that.’

He swallowed hard and nodded, too overwrought for words. The stable attendant led a brown horse forward and Damodar realized that they would be riding Badal, not Sarangi.

‘Sarangi can be seen very easily because she is white,’ murmured his mother, as if she guessed what was going through his mind. ‘Badal is less conspicuous, so he will take us safely to Kalpi.’

She sprang lightly upon the horse’s back and held her hands out for Damodar.

The attendant hoisted him up and they settled him astride the horse. His mother turned sideways and tied a silken sash around both of them, securing it with a tight knot.

‘See, you are safe now, Damodar,’ she said softly. ‘You are tied to me and I to you. Whatever happens, we will face it together.’

A warm, reassuring feeling began to spread all over him, and with that, his fears slowly melted away. The giant fist ceased to squeeze his stomach and he sat up straighter, his hands around his mother’s waist.

‘We will face it together,’ he repeated.

She gave him one of her beautiful smiles. ‘My beloved son.’

And already, it was time to go. The soldiers who were to ride with them moved their horses into line, waiting for the rani’s signal.

Damodar took one last look at the people around him: the weeping maids and attendants; his grandfather, who had bid them a gruff farewell; and his mother’s friends who would be staying back. For some reason, Jhalkaribai was dressed exactly like his mother with the same armor, tunic, and turban. She smiled sadly at him now and he bobbed his head slightly, reluctant to loosen his grip.

They were off now, Badal gathering speed as he moved into the darkness. Damodar laid his head on his mother’s back and watched her hands on the reins. They moved ever so slightly once in a while when she wanted Badal to do her bidding. Now and then, she reached behind and patted Damodar’s knee.

Each touch made him stronger, more confident.

His fears still clamored for attention but he pushed them away.

And then, out of the night, voices hailed them. He felt his mother stiffen and haul on the reins to check Badal’s speed.

The voices belonged to the British— Damodar had heard that strange accent many times before.

‘Stop! Who goes there? Identify yourselves!’

A torch flared and in the flickering light, Damodar could see several British soldiers pointing swords and guns at them! Dawn had nearly broken when Jhalkaribai began to ride through the streets of Jhansi on Sarangi. The masquerade had to be perfect in order to give the queen enough time to reach Kalpi. She concentrated on getting her friend’s pose exactly right—her erect posture on horseback, the manner in which she held Sarangi’s reins with one hand while the other rested on the hilt of her sword, her alert expression.

From the single vantage point in his camp, Sir Hugh Rose swept the town with his binoculars—and saw the queen riding, unaccompanied, through the roads. He raised his eyebrows. It seemed as if she never slept and never relaxed her vigil. An admirable quality in a ruler, indeed! He stifled a rising swell of panic. He had to win this round, he simply had to.

The rani would not be the one to spoil his unbroken list of triumphs.

Rani Lakshmibai swung Badal around and maneuvered slightly to keep the horse in darkness. With her free hand, she managed to push Damodar further down onto the saddle.

He was small and would, hopefully, remain unnoticed—or so she prayed. The other soldiers followed her example, lining up silently in the shadows behind them. Her heart thudded in her chest but her agile mind was already considering potential ways of escape.

‘Who are you?’ a British voice repeated. There was an unmistakable menace in the tone. ‘We are soldiers from Orchha.’ The rani made her voice gruff and masculine. ‘Its ruler, Ladaiya Rani, has sent us to help the British. She is no friend of Jhansi, as you know.’ She held her breath, waiting for a reaction. All might be lost if the ruse was discovered!

To her relief, one of the soldiers guffawed and lowered his gun. ‘You Indians! Always at each other’s throats! Now it’s a catfight between two women.’

The others began to laugh too and waved them on. ‘The camp is that way,’ the first soldier offered, pointing away from them. ‘You’d better hurry. We are going into battle soon.’