A full moon glossed the countryside, shining on the topes of trees and the patches of jungle. In the distance, the city of Gondabad sat under its protective fort, with the now abandoned British cantonment a mile away.
topesJack lit a cheroot and slowly inhaled. He had been born in Gondabad in 1833. Now, in 1858, he was going back with fifty hard-bitten men of the 113th Foot, a Pathan, a prisoner, a rag-tag of camel-drivers and servants and one woman. Of them all, that lone woman concerned him most.
Apart from his stepmother and his mother, there had been two women in his life. Myat had been the first. He had been a very raw ensign, a Griffin, during the Second Burmese War in 1852. Had that only been six years ago? It seemed like a lifetime when he had rushed into every action in his hope
