Chapter Eleven.
The siege was terrible, one of the worst that had been set down in history, for both sides.
The English opened fire upon the palace and fort, only to be shocked by the intensity of the reply. The explosive mortar rounds were a huge surprise to the massed infantry ranks, but mercifully the rounds were exhausted, depleted by the attack only six months before but the cannon fire was maintained.
The Jhansi damage was greater, the calibre of the artillery was higher and the damage soon showed, with a section of the place wall being smashed and one dawn's light revealed a massed column marching to the breach and the defenders doing whatever they could to repel them. The fort had its own columns to defend against, so little support could be offered.
While the siege was lowered against the Jhansi people, the town was the scene of bitter and brutal street-by-street fighting. House by house, and street by street no one was spared.
No man, woman, or child.
In outlying villages, men and women were pressed into service, labourers, washerwomen and other services.
One fine morning, a squadron of dragoons rode in the village and gathered up twenty men and women, at the point of a bayonet. One such couple was Mara and Ghadnar Labbi Singh, simple farmers and potters enjoying their peaceful moment of happiness.
Now grime visaged war came to them again, only as victims of the armed. Being put into a cart, they were driven into the English camp and set to tasks. Ghadnar, being strong was to a work gang and Mara being pretty was found to work as a laundress.
Sergeant Mulal had spotted her quickly and had ensured that she was assigned to tend to his patron officers' laundry needs. The brothers were in desperate need of some diversion as the siege had been costly in manpower and the mess was in poor spirits. The junior officers had faired worse, with all but Carstairs still alive. Morale was at an all-time low, and then the news that a large army had been sighted to their rear brought further dismay.
"Gentlemen, an army under the command of Tatya Tope, the Indian mutiny leader has been seen some thirty miles away, that will give us only a day to meet him in the open field. Tomorrow, one-third of the army will intercept Tope, and prevent him from raising the siege. The remaining two-thirds will assault the palace and the fort, in turn. I will appoint officers by the evening mess, and issue written orders of engagement." The Governor did not brook comment, question or cheer. He marched out, amid a flurry of his staff with maps, lists and more administration of war.
The dawn would bring the upset of many a career, as they would be assigned and the mess buzzed with heady excitement and utter gloomy resolution of death. The juniors, especially fretted and spent their money on wine and heavy spirits to blot out what they expected to be their last days. Some more experienced officers sought other pleasures, to fill their time before climbing into the saddle and face a very uncertain future.
