Shri Bhakti began to weep. Even the seemingly emotionless Dewan had tears in his eyes. Behind me, people began repeating the speech the rani had given, and word began to spread through the thousands of mourners that Jhansi was not going to lose its queen.
There was a feeling of triumph in the air, as if suddenly, we were attending a celebration, not a funeral. The rani stepped away from the burning pyre, and when her eyes met mine, I was grinning widely.
W hen the funeral was over, the rani made her way to the Durbar Hall. This time, she heard the petitioners not from behind the latticed screen, but from the throne. Hundreds of men had come, and as the last of the petitioners filed out the door, Arjun appeared from beyond the curtains to ask if the rani might give one last audience.
“Your Highness, I believe this is important.”
There was something in the way he said it that made all of us sit up straighter on our cushions. The rani no longer kept purdah in the Durbar Hall, so when Major Ellis arrived, he could see that her face was thinner and that she no longer wore the red vermillion mark of a wife in the parting of her hair.
“Sita, will you take Anand for me?” the rani said.
She passed her son to me, and the rajkumar gave an enormous screech. He began kicking his little legs, afraid of being separated from yet another person he now loved. Next to him, Kashi held out her arms.
“Want me to take him?”
I passed the rajkumar to Kashi, who somehow knew how to hold him, because he settled against her chest just the same as he did for the rani.
The major looked particularly worried today. His hat was in his hands, and he kept twisting it around, too nervous to meet the rani’s eyes.
“Major Ellis, we have been friends since I first arrived in Jhansi. You know I can handle whatever it is. If it’s bad news, then simply give it to me.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness—”
“For what?”
“I—” His eyes filled with tears, and I realized at that moment how young he was. The rani’s age, maybe twenty-five. “The British are talking among themselves. They wish . . .”
He couldn’t bring himself to say it, and a cold feeling seized my spine, the same as if someone had put an icy hand beneath my angarkha. Next to me, Kashi felt it, too, because she froze, and Anand began to whimper.
“Major Ellis, I want you to say it. Whatever they wish, we are allies, and I’m sure it can be accommodated.”
“Your Highness, they wish to annex Jhansi. I’m sorry.”
This was not what she was expecting. She stood from her throne. “Have I been a poor ruler?”
“It isn’t you.”
“Have I disobeyed any of their commands? Ignored their requests?”
Major Ellis looked beside himself with grief.
“Why would they want to do this?” she cried in English. “We’ve done everything for them! Bent to all of their rules! They were here for my son’s adoption. You saw it, you signed the papers.”
“Yes.” The major nodded. “I know. But now they’re saying it isn’t enough. That he isn’t your actual son. When they set their minds on something—”
Everyone began speaking at once, and Kahini’s voice was the loudest. “They will never take Jhansi!”
The rani looked down at the major. “What can we do?”
“Why are you asking him? He’s one of them!”
The rani held up a hand to silence Kahini.
“We must begin the appeals process,” he said.
She returned to her throne. “It’s gone that far?”
“The letter will arrive in a few weeks. Your Highness, I don’t know what you intend to do. Whether you wish to remarry—”
The Durgavasi began talking again, and the major looked from face to face, confused.
“Major Ellis, I am an Indian woman. I have been married, and we only marry once.”
His face turned as red as the uniform he was wearing. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I—” He stood. “Perhaps I should go.”
“No! Please. We need your help. What can I do to stop this?”
“I don’t know that it can be stopped.”
“It has to be!” The rani sounded desperate. “Jhansi is my home. It’s my life. It’s the kingdom Anand was born to rule.”
Ellis gave a pitying look at the baby in Kashi’s lap, as if he were a poor substitute for a real heir.
“He is my son,” the rani said. “And this is my kingdom. What right do the British have to rule in my place?”
“None,” he admitted.
“Then help me, Major. Please.”
“In December, we can appeal to the governor-general in Fort William.”
“Yes. What’s his name?”
“Lord Dalhousie.”
“Will you help me write it?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” His eyes met hers. “Anything you wish.”
He left, and we all remained where we were. The horror of it was too great to comprehend. The British were our allies. On his deathbed, the raja’s very last words had been about his treaty with them. He’d begged the rani to honor it at any cost, afraid that our neighboring kingdoms would arrive like vultures to pick at his dead carcass. And he’d been right. Except that neighboring kingdom was England.