Chapter 2

They had a first class compartment to themselves as the train pulled out of the station. Mr. Cox had changed his suit and washed and shaved somewhere in town, David realized when he met the solicitor at the train station.

The compartment was typical of the Victorian rail system found in India in 1888: Heavy upholstered seats with brass fittings and velvet curtains. David had never been in first class on the rail journeys he had undertaken in the past, only being able to afford second-class, which entailed sitting on hard bench seats in an open carriage packed with other travellers.

He found out from Mr. Cox that his firm represented the Prince’s interests, and it would seem that he was one of their most distinguished clients. The fact that Mr. Cox himself had sought him out, having only been given two days’ notice to find him was testament to the high regard in which Abercrombie, Cox and Cox held his patronage.

Mr. Cox had settled into his seat and went to sleep after an hour of travelling. Despite his snoring, David joined him.

When he awoke, he saw through the widows of the carriage that dawn was approaching. Glancing at his steel hunter, the only thing he had of his father’s, he noted it was almost six am. He wound the clock as he continued to look outside, replacing it in his top pocket.

The countryside was changing, becoming more rugged as the train climbed the foothills leading to the mountains.

Mr. Cox woke, stretched, and began fastening the bat-winged collar he had removed before going to sleep.

He looked out of the window, “We’ll be pulling into Multan in about half an hour,” he murmured, “I’ll be glad to be back home.”

He began to gather his things together as David watched.

“You have an hour before the train leaves for Bata. You can find food just outside the station at the Railway Hotel and also clean up there if you wish.” He reached into his briefcase and extracted a purse, “Your twenty-five guineas are in this,” he said, offering it to him.

“You’ll find the Prince is an educated man. He went to Oxford. In my dealings with him, I have found him to be very astute and well aware of the politics and intrigues that beset this country. The fact he has managed thus far to retain his county’s independence from John Company, speaks volumes about his negotiating skills.”

“I have to confess I know very little about Kanda,” David replied.

“I’ve only been there once, the journey is too upsetting for a man of my age,” Mr. Cox admitted. “But I have to admit that I found the country and people very happy with the conditions there.

“The Prince has done a great deal for his people regarding medical care and education. He has used the best of European methods to enhance the living conditions of his people, but still retained their traditions.

“The country itself is only about four hundred miles long by roughly ninety miles wide. It sits like a bowl in the middle of mountains to the northwest and southeast. The Kana River runs through it, washing down significant quantities of gold and gems in its flow. The land is fertile and no one goes hungry that I’m aware of. The only concern they have is the Khana Pass, a narrow fissure through the mountains that leads to Afghanistan. It is situated some 60 miles from the main city, Putan. The Afghans have raided through it, attacking villages in the surrounding areas.

“John Company and the army have been trying to force the Prince to accept their help in protecting the Pass. The problem, of course, is once John Company gets involved they will quickly take over the running of Kanda ... something of which the Prince is well aware. However, with Russia now taking an interest in India, that Pass is a likely route they could take if it came to war. He is under mounting pressure to accept help,” he concluded.

The train began to slow as the outskirts of Multan came into view. The usual sight of ramshackle shacks slowly giving way to houses of more substance until, at last, it lurched slowly into the station.

He alighted with Mr. Cox, shook his hand as the newly energized solicitor departed for his home, and then made his way into the Railway Hotel.

Fifty minutes later he exited, having rushed his meal and clean-up, to board the train again. The train now only contained three carriages due to the hilly terrain it would have to climb to reach Bata, a further one hundred and fifty miles away.

It took almost seven hours to reach Bata, the end of the railway line, the mountain range behind the town preventing further expansion.