Danger at Dahlkari (27 page)

“You are enjoying the hunt, Miss Gray?” he inquired.

“It's been very interesting,” I replied.

“You do not perhaps like to see the tiger killed?”

“I—I found it rather disturbing.”

“You find it brutal? You are sensitive. That is as it should be. But the tiger is a predator, and if we did not have the hunt two or three times a year the tiger would soon kill all the other animals. It is necessary to kill, you see. It is not merely for sport.”

“I understand, Your Highness.”

The corpse of the tiger had been roped to a bar suspended on two poles by one of the tents. It hung limply, like an enormous tawny gold and black rag doll, a single scarlet stain marring the gorgeous pelt. I looked away, hating the sight of it. The rajah smiled again, but his dark eyes remained flat, inscrutable.

“I hear you learn to shoot,” he remarked.

“I—yes. I have learned to use a pistol.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps, you will share my blind. I will show you how to use the rifle. Perhaps you will shoot a tiger for me.”

“I really don't think I'd care to, Your Highness.”

“We shall see. Tonight, you enjoy. My musicians play especially for you. Native songs, soft and lovely, like you. Later on we shall perhaps have another conversation, like before.”

He moved on to speak to one of the officers, and I felt a wave of relief. Corporal Burke came to stand beside me. With his short-clipped dark brown hair, his humped nose and tight, disapproving mouth, he looked formidable indeed. His gray eyes were hard as he watched the rajah move on. I knew he must have overheard everything that had been said.

“You want to watch him, Miss Gray,” he said grimly. “He's altogether too interested in you. The fellow may be a bloody prince, but I still don't trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I confided. “I wonder how he knew about my learning to shoot.”

“I shouldn't imagine there's much he doesn't know,” the corporal replied. “The fellow's shrewd, and he's highly intelligent, has spies everywhere. Shall we wander around the camp?”

I nodded. The carpets were soft underfoot. Silken tents billowed gently. As we strolled, I saw tall ebony stands holding beautifully chased brass bowls filled with the burning incense that perfumed the air. Servants moved about quickly but unobtrusively, and the rajah's men in their sumptuous blue uniforms lingered about, observing everything with dark, impassive faces, not attempting to mix with the English party. I noticed that each had a long, gleaming dagger thrust in his silver sash, and each looked ready to use it at a moment's notice. A bird screamed shrilly in the jungle. The horses moved about restlessly.

“Do—do you have the feeling we're being observed?” I asked nervously. “I mean—from out there.”

“I've had the feeling for the past two days,” Corporal Burke retorted. “This afternoon while everyone else was occupied with the hunt, I did a bit of scouting of my own, couldn't find a thing. I reckon we're being watched, all right, but not by anything human. The jungle's full of animals, and animals are curious.”

“You think that explains it?”

“I reckon so, Miss Gray. If it's the Thugs you're worrying about, forget it. They prey on unsuspecting caravans, not heavily armed hunting parties. Those men of the rajah's would butcher 'em.”

“They certainly look fierce,” I remarked.

“They are,” Burke said. “They do the rajah's dirty work for him, collect the taxes, dole out punishment, terrorize the villagers. If there's anything they like more than torturing a miscreant, it's coming upon some poor, defenseless young girl. When the rajah's men are about, the villagers hide their daughters.”

“The rajah
condones
such conduct?”

“He encourages it. Fear's a mighty powerful weapon. It keeps the natives on their toes. As long as they're terrified, they don't grumble, they starve to death in order to pay for the rajah's jewels. It's always been that way, and it was even worse before the British arrived.”

A short time later a brass gong sounded and servants pulled silken ropes that caused the front flaps of the enormous golden tent to lift, turning it into a gigantic marquee. The interior was lined with blue and white silk, there were piles of blue and silver and gold cushions to sit on and two long tables laden with silver dishes and a gorgeous array of food. The musicians stood in one corner, playing their soft music, and servants with huge plumed fans stood ready to fan the guests.

“Burke,” Dollie scolded as we entered, “you've monopolized Lauren long enough. I shan't stand for any more of it! Now you run on, do. Lauren, dear, isn't this
some
thing? I told you it would be smashing. Even Reggie's impressed.”

“You must all help yourselves,” the rajah said. “It is what you call the buffet meal, no? My cooks have prepared many delicacies to please you. Eat the food, drink the wine, be happy.”

The rajah's men had entered the tent along with the English party, and soon there was a crowd around the tables. As I waited to get a plate, the rajah stepped up beside me, lightly touching my elbow.

“Your watchdog is very vigilant,” he said, “but I see that he is busy getting his food now. Here, let me serve you, Miss Gray. It will be my pleasure. A plate!” he said harshly, and one of the men quickly handed him one and stepped aside. “The food is lovely, no? You are hungry?”

“Not—not particularly,” I said.

“You are frightened of me? Because perhaps I make a blunder the last time we are together? We shall sit on the cushions and eat and have a conversation, and your friends will be all around us. Your young watchdog is looking at us already. He will fly at my throat if I touch you. You need not fear.”

There was nothing I could do but let him fill a plate for me and lead me over to a pile of cushions. A servant followed with a plate of food for the rajah. I sat down on the cushions as primly as possible, and the rajah lowered himself beside me, half sitting, half reclining. He didn't try to emulate the English tonight, but, instead, ate with his fingers while we used knives and forks. The tent was noisy with the clatter of dishes and conversations in two different languages. Sally and Sergeant Norman sat on a pile of silver cushions in one corner, deep in conversation. There was a radiant glow about her I had never seen before.

“Your friend is happy,” the rajah remarked. “She is enjoying herself much tonight. The sergeant with the bronze hair and serious blue eyes—he is her special friend?”

“They are very good friends,” I replied.

“He is indeed fortunate. She is beautiful—not like you, not cool and elegant, but of the earth. Earthy? A man would give you a rose and quote poetry in the moonlight. He would seize your friend roughly and treat her with lusty abandon. She would enjoy it.”

“She would more likely double up her fist and give him a bloody nose,” I said stiffly.

“She does not bloody the sergeant's nose. He is most familiar.”

“I'm sure that is none of your concern, Your Highness.”

The rajah smiled, not at all put off by my frank reply. He lolled back on the blue velvet cushions, supporting himself on one elbow, his long silver clad legs stretched out. His plate of food perched on a cushion. Gems flashed as he picked up a spicy chunk of meat and put it in his mouth. His smoldering dark eyes watched me as he chewed. I had rarely been so uncomfortable. He was like some magnificent, sensual animal, only the thinnest veneer of civilized manners covering the savagery that lurked just beneath the surface. He smelled of heavy musk, and his eyes seemed to undress me as his lips curled in what could only be called a lascivious smile.

“You are angry,” he said in that husky, silken voice. “You do not like to talk of things of the flesh? You are frightened of them? That is because you are a virgin and have no knowledge of the pleasures the body is capable of giving. You are ripe to learn. The right teacher can open the doors to paradise.”

I knew I couldn't make a scene, but I knew I couldn't sit there a moment longer. I smiled politely for the benefit of those around us. I set my plate down. My skirts rustled as I stood up and moved away from him, and it was at that very moment that we heard a great commotion outside. Conversation died abruptly. The musicians stopped playing. Through the open front of the tent we saw a frothing brown horse stumble across the carpets, several of the rajah's servants trying to restrain it. The soldier riding it was deathly pale, his face streaked with dirt, his uniform covered with dust, one sleeve half torn off. He reined the horse sharply, and when it reared up he tumbled off, falling in a heap onto the thick carpets.

Pandemonium prevailed. Everyone rushed out, talking excitedly. Reggie bellowed for quiet. Several of the rajah's men had drawn their daggers. The soldier staggered to his feet and tried to salute as Reggie rushed over to him. I recognized him as Private Stanton, one of the men who had left with Michael. His cheek was bleeding from a small cut, his blue eyes looked glazed, and his short blond hair fell in an untidy fringe across his forehead. He stared at Reggie, his throat working as he tried to speak, but no words would come. He stumbled. Reggie caught him in his arms, holding him securely.

“Disaster, sir. Dead—all of 'em. Murdered.”

“What is it, Stanton? What's happened?”

“It was mealtime—in the camp. Everyone relaxed—at ease—there'd been no sign of the Thugs anywhere—”

Stanton's voice broke. He shook his head, and there were tears in his eyes. Dead silence prevailed in the rajah's camp now, all eyes focused on the tormented young private who tried valiantly to control himself. Reggie released him, and Stanton stepped back.

“The men were eating their food, talking, laughing. Lieutenant Stephens was in his tent. I—I had gone to see about the horses. They fell on us all at once. One minute there was the clatter of mess kits and the sound of talking and laughter and then the whole camp was swarming with them, all of them yelling and cracking those yellow scarves.”

Stanton took a deep breath. He shoved the blond fringe from his forehead and looked around at all of us, and then he shuddered. Reggie squeezed his arm, willing the youth to continue.

“We didn't have a chance. There wasn't time for a single man to seize his gun. There were too many of them—two or three falling upon each one of our men. They—it happened in minutes, our men thrashing and kicking and dying as those demons—” He cut himself short, and his light blue eyes were filled with anguish. “They didn't see me over by the horses. I knew there was nothing I could do—I didn't even have my gun with me. Then they saw me. They came running. I jumped on the nearest horse. They tried to pull me off. One of them grabbed my arm, almost tore my sleeve off. I kicked him in the face. Another one tried to jump up behind me. I knocked him away. I rode, and they ran after me—they were on foot, but they almost had me, too, a pack of 'em swarming around the horse.”

“Easy, fellow,” Reggie said gently. “Just take it easy.”

“Rutherford—Johnny Rutherford, my best mate, he—he was telling one of his funny stories. His eyes were full of laughter, and he was grinning like he always does when he's got an audience hanging on his every word. He was standing there, telling his story, and then three of them were upon him and that scarf was tightening around his neck and his eyes were popping out and he was fighting for his life. I saw him die. I saw them all die. It couldn't have taken more than three or four minutes—I wanted to help 'em. I wanted to
do
something, but there was nothing, nothing—”

“We understand, lad.”

“My only thought was riding for help. I knew you were camped out here. I heard the scout telling Lieutenant Stephens where you were. I thought—I had the crazy idea I could ride for help, but they were dead before I even got out of the camp with a dozen Thugs running after me.”

“Here,” Dollie said.

Without any of us noticing she had stepped back into the tent to fetch a goblet full of wine. She gave it to Stanton and watched as he drank it, and then she slipped her arm around his waist and led him toward the tent, all of us stepping aside to make way for them. She sat him down on a pile of cushions and perched beside him, slipping one arm around his shoulders and taking his hand.

For a long moment no one spoke. The English wore expressions of horrified dismay, but the rajah's face was an inscrutable mahogany mask. None of his men showed the least emotion.

“We can't leave tonight,” Reggie said in a carefully controlled voice, “but we'll have to start back as soon as there's light in the morning.”

“But of course,” the rajah replied.

“There's nothing we can do for those poor lads. We'll return for the bodies later. The thing now is to get back to the garrison as quickly as possible.”

“My men will be ready to depart at dawn.”

“We'll go back to our huts and pack. Those devils must know Stanton reached us. They wouldn't dare risk another attack tonight, knowing we'll be alert. All the same, I'll post a guard. I suggest you do the same, Your Highness.”

The rajah nodded. “Now I shall have my servants light the lanterns to carry back with you. Most grievous, a tragedy. All those fine young English soldiers murdered, including my friend Lieutenant Stephens. We shall avenge it, I promise.”

I was in a daze. Michael was dead. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't accept it. I knew I couldn't let myself think about it or I would lose complete control. Sally was holding my hand, looking at me with dark, concerned eyes, and I remember telling her that I was all right. Then we were moving along that narrow pathway through the jungle again, and the lanterns flickered like giant yellow fireflies, making the leafy walls seem all the darker and more ominous. No one spoke. Our footsteps crunched on the rough ground. Twigs snapped. Some animal in a nearby thicket cried out. I gave a start, stumbling. Corporal Burke held my arm in a brutal grip, his face a stern mask. We were in the middle of the group this time, Sally and Sergeant Norman directly behind us, the other two enlisted men in front, supporting the still badly shaken Stanton between them. I don't know how long it took us to reach the clearing, but it seemed an eternity.