King of a Distant Country Ch. 01-03

The weather is most trying at present as we await the breaking of the monsoon to relieve the oppressive humidity. It shouldn't be too long now as daily, we may observe the great thunderheads building up to the east but, as yet, they only threaten rather than deliver the promised downpour. These are certainly the dog days and one may readily see the effect such close conditions have on the temper of the populace; fuses have been cut very short indeed. Of the servants, only Baljit seems unaffected with her grave demeanour unchanged. The others spit and snarl like cats in a sack and take offence with one and other at the slightest of pretexts. I shall be heartily glad when the storm breaks.

October 1868

One should be very careful what one what one wishes for as events may harbour consequences that were hitherto unforeseen. The monsoon broke very late and inundated the land. The great river, swollen by rain from the hills, burst its banks and the flooding is widespread still, although lately beginning to recede. It is hard to describe the appalling scenes of utter devastation. On the 13th inst, a typhoon swept in from the Bay of Bengal and wreaked much havoc among the poorer sort of housing. I mobilised the army on my own initiative to bring such relief as we may. His nibs seemed paralysed by the scale of the disaster and took to his boudoir with half a dozen of his youngest concubines and a couple of young boys, in case he fancied a change. I attempted to see him on several occasions as I wished his authority to distribute rice from the Royal granary. Needless to say he refused to countenance an audience so I took it upon myself to press on regardless. I don't know what he will make ofthat!

As usual with such disasters, those who have the least lose most. The suffering among the poorer sort almost beggars belief. I greatly fear we shall have terrible pestilence once the floods have gone. The bloated carcasses of drowned livestock dot the watery landscape like so many half-tide rocks. Of human dead there are many hundreds, perhaps thousands. Entire villages have been swept away in the floodwaters and more survive in name only. The little native huts of woven palm fronds are flimsy structures at the best of times. In the teeth of a storm, they simply blow apart. The good thing is they are readily constructed so replacing shelter for the people will pose no difficulty. The recent rice harvest was ruined or completely destroyed but my biggest concern is to secure a supply of potable water. The villagers rely on the great river for their sustenance in this regard but that is now swollen and filthy with all manner of detritus borne along by the flood. Typhoid fever is almost certain to follow.

My syce lost his family in the disaster and the wretched man is beside himself, near hysterical with grief. Only Baljit has remained her usual stoic self and accepts disaster as the natural lot of the poor. She truly cannot understand my concern. Perhaps her own experiences have left her inured to the fate of her fellows. My troops have performed splendidly in trying circumstances. There has not been much that they can achieve in all honesty, as the disaster is so vast. We have begun the gruesome task of recovering the dead and seeing them decently disposed of on mass pyres. Fortunately, there is no shortage of kindling although it needs liberal amounts of palm oil or ghee to get the fires started. We have also begun to organise the survivors and get them started on the rebuilding process. This has also enabled us to distribute the Nizzam's rice. Sikkander Khan has been conspicuous by his absence.

Editor's Note: At this point there is a long gap in the entries. On a couple of occasions a date has been entered and a few terse lines only appear. These detail things like troop strength or appear to be aides memoirs, reminding Danvers-Reid to "Check powder quality in Number 4 magazine" and the like. It also appears that the feared pestilence did, in fact, take hold and Danvers-Reid was kept busy organising burial details and other such grisly tasks. The next major entry appears some eight months later.

May 1869

Matters are come to a head with the egregious Sikkander Khan. I have been aware of the threat the man poses for these past months but I little suspected that he would find the courage to attempt a coup. He has attracted to him a band of disaffected minor nobles and similar rats and they have occupied the town of Dimburrah, centre for the ruby mines. Poor old Mansoor is in rare panic and demands, in semi-coherent bellows from behind his bedroom door, that I march immediately and toss the scoundrels out. This will be damned ticklish as Sikkander has put together a ragbag army of dacoits, mercenaries and low-life adventurers numbering in excess of five thousand. The town itself is unknown to me but I'm reliably informed it sits on a steep bluff above a ravine and there is but a single direct approach, by way of the trunk road. One of my subadars is from that area and he has furnished me with sketch maps. It looks certain that the place cannot be taken easily if resolutely defended and accordingly, I have purchased half a dozen old six-pounder galloper guns. It would not be worth the effort of dragging the ancient bronze pieces up there by elephant even though it would be sheer madness to attempt an assault without some form of artillery.

I will own to being somewhat apprehensive, as this will be the first blooding of my soldiers. The cavalry are steady enough; I promoted Ramnesh Lal to Daffadar-Major and the sowars will ride through hell for him. I'm somewhat less sanguine about the foot. Some of the sepoys are displaying a pronounced reluctance and every symptom of being gun-shy. We shall see. My other problem is Baljit. She insists on accompanying me and will not take ‘no' for an answer. It matters not one jot that I proclaim campaigning is no occupation for a woman – particularly one of her tender years. Neither can she ride, although, in truth, that is no obstacle of itself as she could travel with the baggage train. By our guess, she is about fourteen now and would be married if she were back in her native village. I will have to try and find her husband from among her own caste, although this nonsense with the ‘evil eye' will make that tricky.

The galloper guns should be arriving at the end of the month and we will set forth immediately they are to hand. In the meantime, I am moving the army out of the city and we will camp by the ghats a little to the north. I am hopeful that this quarantine will prevent any attempts to disaffect the soldiers. The ghats are where the local funerals take place and are considered a place of ill-omen so we should not be overly disturbed. Someone has already started that silly damn rumour that the Enfield cartridges are greased with pork and beef fat – in truth it is mineral oil. That was the story the damned Pandies put about in the mutiny and we all know where that led! I have banned any camp followers from accompanying us and am trying to use this rule to further dissuade Baljit. Her answer has been to acquire a uniform and she now goes about dressed in tight cavalry britches, a scarlet tunic and a sky-blue puggaree. I confess she looks most damnably appealing in this get-up. The Hindoo troopers still avoid her and Ramnesh Lal has cautioned me that her presence is disturbing some of the sepoys. I have told him to put it about that she is with us to put a curse on our enemies and he thinks this a good plan.

June 1869

We took Dimburrah yesterday and I have spent today attempting to restore order. The fight was short and bloody. We blew the gates with the galloper guns and the infantry assaulted straight up the road. The first attack was beaten back with heavy loss but the second, under cover of the gallopers firing canister, gained a foothold and we broke in just after noon. As soon as we were in, the Dacoits who had rallied to Sikkander Khan deserted him, throwing down their ancient weapons and pleading for quarter. The mercenaries resisted long enough to satisfy their honour and then surrendered in good order. Most were ex-Company sepoys and had little appetite for the fight once they saw my troops were led by a European. That was when the mayhem started as the sepoys ran amuck, raping and looting at will. It was regrettable but inevitable that this would happen. Something about war takes the humanity out of a man. By common custom, if a city surrenders without a fight, it is spared this ordeal. If the city resists, albeit the citizens may have little say in the matter, then sack and rapine are considered justified. At least we do not have the added complication of drink with native troops. The Queen's infantry are ungovernable when fuelled by alcohol.

I allowed the men their way last night and sent Ramnesh Lal with a full troop into the city this morning. The Lancers have been splendid and did not join in the plundering. I have assured the sowars that all will be rewarded with a bonus of five hundred rupees. There is also a reward of ten thousand rupees for the man that brings me Sikkander Khan, dead or alive. Baljit watched all that transpired with an impassive glare. She feels no sympathy for the townsfolk but was much affected when a ball struck one of the artillery horses. She wept when the beast had to be destroyed and demanded to know why we could not mend its shattered leg. There is still much of the child about her although her body bears very much a woman's form.

Later

I write this on the march back to Nambhupore. Sikkander is in chains and stumbles behind the gun carriage to which he has been secured. There were five others of the court taken with him and these will now face the Nizzam's justice. Dimburrah has been pacified and the mines are back in production. Unfortunately, about a third of the town was destroyed in the aftermath of the battle though I doubt this will concern his nibs. The troops are in rare high spirits and a rumour has started that our victory was down to Baljit's curse. They are still wary of her but a little more respectful. This whole ‘evil eye' thing is getting out of hand. Of course, anyone who spends any time out east will rapidly discover that the natives are a superstitious bunch but my concern is that they will turn on her in a trice if I am not there to protect her.

I have enlisted some of the mercenaries to replace the casualties we took. Our butcher's bill was quite severe; one hundred and seventy three dead and almost six hundred wounded. We have three hundred prisoners and they make a sorry sight tramping along in the dust behind the bullock carts of the baggage train, wailing and weeping as they go. They fear the punishment that doubtless awaits them. One may be sure that it will be cruel in the extreme, as insurrection is the thing most feared by princes, be they black or white. One has only to recall the terrible revenge wreaked by our own people after the Mutiny. I would be the first to avow that the wretched Pandies brought it upon themselves with their massacres and treachery, but it is still unsettling to see a man blown apart at the mouth of a cannon. If you have never witnessed such a thing, be thankful, it haunts my dreams still.

I cannot wait to be back in the city, not least so that Baljit may go decently attired once more. The sight of her pert young rump in those tight britches is most distracting.

August 1869

It is hard to believe that two months have passed since the successful engagement at Dimburrah. The rebels were duly put to death. The Nizzam wished me to arrange the executions but I demurred. I'm a soldier not a damned hangman. The day of reckoning was like a carnival. I kept the troops in barracks and refused to attend. Watching a man trampled to death by elephants is not my favourite way of passing an afternoon. Sikkander Khan's fate has left something of a power vacuum at court. There is now no obvious heir to his nibs, who grows more frail with each passing day. This is a matter of some concern as the politicking and backstabbing gathers pace. There have been three ‘accidents' in the last month. Some of these minor dignitaries appear to lack a sense of balance when walking on high walls. At this rate, all eligible will be wiped out by the time the old boy quits this life.

My reward for bringing matters to a successful conclusion was to be presented with a concubine! I was allowed my pick of the stable and chose a little Siamese maid. She is quite delightful and vastly inventive. I have to confess I havered a bit before accepting but I have been too long without that physical release that is important to a man. I call her Cat, for the mewing noises she makes when she nears her crisis. She has a refreshingly direct approach to the act of physical union and has initiated some practices that I find quite shocking, if devilishly arousing. She insists on wearing the gossamer pyjamas favoured in the seraglio – I believe she considers her ‘uniform' as an overt display of her status. Being the General-Sahib's woman appears to have given her much ‘face' among the others. I fear for the health of my syce. The poor man is crippled by a tumultuous erection of the male member whenever he is in her company.

Baljit, on the other hand, is contemptuous of her and I find this surprising; Cat is a Buddhist and Baljit's low caste is a matter of supreme indifference to her. At least I have managed to get Baljit back into a sari and out of those tight britches. Baljit informed me the other day that Cat has the body of a boy and does not look like a proper woman at all. It is true that nature has not been bountiful to Cat in certain areas and the habit of removing all body hair lends further to the impression of youth. Cat has the body of a young girl although she assures me that she is four and twenty and has been these past ten years within the harem. She was presented to the Nizzam by a Burman prince. The Nizzam took her a couple of times but she did not become one of his favourites. She openly confesses to have taken her pleasures with the other women as she was denied the company of a man. She is undoubtedly possessed of strong appetites.

The day I received her, she insisted on attending me at my bath. She removed her harem pyjamas so they would not get wet and sat beside me, knees akimbo, naked as the day she was born. This had the predictable effect upon my organ of generation or ‘lingam' as the locals call it. Seeing my distressed state, she clapped her hands in glee. When I rose from my ablutions, I was still much excited and she insisted on taking care of the problem forthwith. Cat believes that retaining the sexual essences for a prolonged period is detrimental to one's health. She indicated that I should sit in one of the large, straight-backed chairs. I did so, puzzled. She proceeded to straddle me with her back towards my chest and lowered her sexual parts until they were just touching tip of my erect member. Her yoni was like a little mouth, nibbling at the tip of my sex while she undulated her hips, never quite drawing me within, but content to tease me with her pronounced nether lips. After some several years of abstinence I was unequal to the challenge and felt my crisis approaching in moments. Cat sensed what was happening and, with exquisite timing, thrust herself down upon me as I climaxed, milking the seed from me with rhythmic contraction of her remarkable love muscles. I feared I cried out in the extremity of the moment, which appeared to delight her further. My enjoyment was only slightly soured by the furious glare that Baljit afforded the pair of us when we emerged from my chambers. I fear we offended the tender sensibilities of one so young.

As a consequence, and not wishing to distress an impressionable young mind, I always inform Baljit on those nights when Cat is to visit me so that she may absent herself and not suffer the embarrassment of witnessing the audible results of my recreations. She accepted this arrangement with ill grace. I fear that I am diminished in her eyes because of my attachment to Cat. Baljit will sit and glare at the older woman when we take food together. She still insists on tasting everything I eat and I cannot dissuade from her chosen duty.

September 1869

The atmosphere of disharmony in my household continues unabated. I have repeatedly questioned Baljit as to the reasons for her animosity towards Cat but she will not give an answer beyond a withering look that would strip the stucco off the walls. I have attempted to explain the child that a man of my years has certain needs and that Cat is satisfying them. She simply shrugs. I fear she thinks me a libertine. Cat tries to be pleasant to the girl but is constantly rebuffed. As a result, the pair contend for my attention in their different ways. My syce says that Baljit is jealous – the man's obviously a fool! Although, if I did not know better, I could almost believe the presence of the green-eyed monster does afflict her. One episode recently gave me pause to think that, perhaps, my over-stimulated servant is right for once.

Two nights ago, we assembled, as usual, for the evening meal. Baljit arrived accoutred in a pair of the diaphanous pyjamas favoured by Cat and the other harem women. God alone knows how she came by them, but the effect was most disturbing. It was quite apparent that she is indeed rapidly becoming a young woman. Her breasts have grown quite large and her yoni is fleeced with a thin covering of maidenhair. I insisted that she remove herself and dress in a more becoming manner although, if I'm truthful, she was a very alluring sight. I have to remind myself that she is but a child still in a woman's body. She reacted badly and fled the room weeping, declaiming that the General-Sahib thought her ugly and worthless. Only her sense of duty made her return, but she would not linger after tasting each of the evening's dishes. I protested that I thought her a very pretty girl, but this did not assuage her injured feelings. Cat thinks that I should not have called her a girl for Baljit is desirous of being treated as a woman. That is as maybe, but I cannot rid myself of the memory of the skinny, filthy child who sat so still for the tiger.

Cat continues to delight. Her appetite for the act of love is almost boundless and she will often use me to the point of exhaustion. She has certain tricks to revive my ardour long after I believe myself satiated. Last night, as I lay exhausted, she rolled me onto my stomach and began to massage my back and shoulders. Massage would appear to be a Siamese art. She manipulated my aching muscles and eased the knots from my spine with firm pressure. Then she began to sweep my skin with her hair, trailing the very tips of her tresses across my back and buttocks. It was both soothing and arousing at the same time. I became aware next that she had substituted the twin firm peaks of her small breasts and she proceeded to stroke herself lightly across my buttocks and thighs. She made a type of low purring noise in her throat as she moved, reinforcing further her feline qualities.

Her finger then insinuated itself into my fundament. It was not entirely unpleasant but it took me by surprise and I yelped. She made a deep apology and then, to my surprise, I felt her breath upon my buttocks and her tongue slipped into that nether orifice. I was utterly stunned at the feeling this intrusion engendered. I felt had been struck by velvet lightning. All the strength ebbed from my body and I gasped with the intensity of the sensations, the like of which I have never felt. My life's essence seemed to drain from me and my entire being was concentrated in that tiny area with the rest floating free somewhere in the ether. I cannot say how long she continued these intimate ministrations. Her tongue probed deeper into me and began to flick back and forth. It was as though a lever was thrown inside me for, within seconds, my lingam was rampant once more when I would not credit such a thing was possible.