The Far Pavilions (44 page)

By now the fresh breeze of the morning had dwindled to a mere breath of air that whispered among the branches but did not stir the dust below, and the chattering of the
saht-bai
and the little striped squirrels was stilled. Somewhere out of sight a pair of ring-doves kept up a soft, monotonous cooing that blended pleasantly with the drowsy rustle of the leaves and an occasional tinkle of bells as a hawk stirred and shook itself in the shadows. The soft combination of sounds was soothing enough to lull any average adult to sleep, and only Jhoti – who like most ten-year-olds considered sleeping in the afternoon a shocking waste of time – was alert and restless. Though not all his elders were asleep: Captain Pelham-Martyn, for one, was awake.

Comfortably settled between the roots of an ancient neem tree, his shoulders fitting snugly into a deep groove in the trunk, Ash was once again engaged in pondering the problems presented by Juli, while at the same time listening with one ear to a low-pitched conversation between two people whom he could not see, and who were presumably unaware that there was anyone else on the far side of the tree – unless they imagined him to be asleep. It was a singularly uninteresting conversation and only its content told him that one of the speakers was Jhoti, who apparently wished to go off on his own to try his hawk on the far side of the
jheel
, and was being discouraged from doing so by some un-cooperative adult. As Ash saw no reason to make his presence known and thereby be drawn into an argument in which both sides would appeal to him for support, he stayed where he was and kept silent, hoping that the two would soon go away and leave him in peace. The low-pitched voices interfered with his thoughts and made it impossible for him to concentrate, and he listened to them with increasing irritation.

‘But I want to go,’ said Jhoti. ‘Why should I waste the whole afternoon snoring? If you don't want to come with me, you need not. I don't want you, anyway. I'd much rather go alone. I'm tired of being followed about as though I were a baby and never being allowed to do anything by myself. And I won't take Gian Chand, either. I can fly a hawk just as well as he can, and I don't need
him
to tell me how to do it.’

‘Yes, yes, my Prince. Of course.’ The whispering voice was soothing and placatory: ‘Everyone knows it. But you cannot go about unattended. It is not fitting, and His Highness your brother would never permit it. Perhaps when you are older –’

‘I am old enough now,’ interrupted Jhoti hotly. ‘And as for my brother, you know quite well that he would do anything to prevent me enjoying myself. He always has. He knew how much I wished to accompany my sisters to Bhithor, so of course he said I could not go just to spite me. But I tricked him finely and came after all.’

‘You did, my Prince. But as I warned you then, it was a rash deed and one we may all live to regret, as he may yet send to fetch you back and revenge himself upon those of us who came with you. This escapade of yours has already put me in grave jeopardy, and were any harm to befall you on the journey, my head would surely pay for it.’

‘Bah! That is child's talk. You said yourself that he would never have me dragged back for fear that it would create too much talk, and make him look foolish because I had out-witted him. Besides, you were in his service before you were in mine, so –’

‘Nay, Prince, I was in your mother the Maharani's service. It was only by her orders that I served him; and by her order that I left his service for yours. Ah, she was a very great lady, the Maharani.’

‘You do not need to tell
me
that,’ said Jhoti jealously, ‘she was my mother. And she loved me best – that I know. But because you were once in Nandu's household, you can always pretend that you only came away with me in order to see that I came to no harm.’

The reply was a curious giggling laugh that instantly identified the boy's companion and jerked Ash to sudden attention, for even after all these years he remembered that sound. Biju Ram had always giggled like that at Lalji's jokes and his own obscenities, or at the sight of any creature, human or animal, being tormented.

‘Why do you laugh?’ demanded Jhoti resentfully, his voice rising.

‘Hush, Prince – you will wake the sleepers. I laughed because I was thinking of how your brother would look if I said any such thing to him. He would not believe it, though the gods know it is true. Yet you have shown him that you can think and act for yourself, and cannot be tied by the leg like one of his tame macaws, or followed about by women and old men crying “Take care”, “Be careful”, “Do not tire yourself”, “Do not touch”.
Hi-ya
! you are a true son of your mother. She ever took her own path and no one had the courage to gainsay her – not even your father.’

‘They will not gainsay me either,’ boasted Jhoti. ‘And I am not going to be followed about any longer. I'm going to go out by myself and fly my own hawk; now, this minute, instead of lying around snoring. And you can't stop me.’

‘But I can arouse your syce, and Gian Chand also. They will see that you come to no harm.’

‘Don't you
dare
!’ whispered Jhoti fiercely. ‘I thought you were my friend. Why did you help me escape from my brother if you were going to behave just as he does and stop me from doing anything I want to do? You are just like everyone else. “Don't do this – don't do that. Take care. Be careful.” ’

‘My Prince, I
beg
of you -’

‘No! I will go. And I will go alone.’

‘
Hazrat
*
,’ sighed Biju Ram, capitulating. ‘Well, if you will not let me go with you or take Gian Chand, at least do not ride Bulbul; he is too fresh today and may be hard to manage. Take Mela, who is quieter and will give you no trouble, and do not, I beg you, ride too far or too fast. Keep to a trot only and stay within sight of us, for if you were to fall -’

‘Fall!’ snorted Jhoti, outraged by the very idea. ‘I have never fallen off a horse in my life!’

‘There is always a first time,’ observed Biju Ram sententiously, and giggled again as though to rob the platitude of offence.

Jhoti laughed, and a moment later Ash heard the pair move away between the trees. But though the afternoon was now silent he found himself oddly uneasy. There was something about the conversation he had overheard that did not ring true. Why, for instance, had Biju Ram, of all people, elected to side with the younger son against the elder, and carry his partisanship to the extent of helping to smuggle Jhoti out of Karidkote in defiance of the Maharajah's wishes? That his reasons were not altruistic could be taken for granted – unless his character had changed out of all knowledge during the past decade, which was something that Ash was not prepared to believe. Biju Ram had always known on which side his bread was buttered, and it was safe to assume that he still did so. On the other hand he had been Janoo-Rani's creature for many years, and if there was any truth at all in Mahdoo's slanderous hints as to the reason for her sudden demise, it was just possible that he might have turned against the parricide and transferred his allegiance to her younger son. Though not, decided Ash, unless there was a good chance of that son being able to reward him liberally one day for doing so.

Could there, then, be a move on foot to kill Nandu, the new Maharajah, and put Jhoti in his place? If so, then Biju Ram's behaviour was easily explained, as was his anxiety to keep the boy from running any risks. No wonder he too was attempting to molly-coddle the child, for if there was conspiracy against the Maharajah, it was possible that the Maharajah knew it and might kill his brother in order to deprive the plotters of a rallying point for revolt. And if Biju Ram's task was to remove the heir to a safe place until the throne was made vacant, it stood to reason that he would take very good care to see that the boy came to no harm.

Ash clasped his hands about his knees, and propping his chin on them, thought about Biju Ram and Karidkote. Ought he perhaps to send a word of warning to Mr Carter, the District Officer? or better still to the British Resident in Karidkote (there was bound to be one by now) ? But then he had no proof. It would not be enough to say, ‘I used to know Biju Ram, and therefore I know that if he is befriending young Jhoti it must be because he knows that Nandu is due to be murdered, and that Jhoti will soon be Maharajah.’ No one would believe him. And in any case it might not be true. The whole thing was probably only a figment of his imagination; though Mahdoo had said… But then that too was merely a rumour, the idle gossip of some camp-follower and therefore no more reliable than his own random suspicions. There was obviously nothing he could so, and anyway the internal affairs of Karidkote were none of his business.

Ash yawned and leaning back against the tree trunk prepared to follow the example of the majority and go to sleep. But the afternoon was destined to be a disturbed one. The muffled clip-clop of a horse's hooves on thick dust was barely audible in the silence, but it was still loud enough to attract his attention, and he turned his head and saw Jhoti ride past, carrying a hooded falcon on one wrist and keeping his horse to a walk for fear of waking the sleepers in the grove. He was riding the bay gelding, Bulbul, and he was alone: proof enough that he had won his point against Biju Ram.

Ash could sympathize with the child's desire to escape from supervision, but watching him turn away from the
jheel
and head for the open country, he found himself in unexpected agreement with Biju Ram. This was probably the first time that Jhoti had ever ridden out alone, for up to now there must always have been several men in attendance on him, one of whom would ride ahead to make sure that he did not venture into country where there were such traps for the unwary as nullahs and concealed wells, patches of bog or unexpected outcrops of rock.

‘It isn't safe,’ thought Ash. ‘Someone should have gone with him!’ Hadn't Mahdoo said something about Lalji's father and a riding accident? – that the late Maharajah had been out hawking when his horse bolted and fell into a nullah, breaking both their necks? His uneasiness increased and he scrambled to his feet and began to walk quickly back through the trees to where his own horse, The Cardinal, was tethered.

There was no sign of Biju Ram, and falconers, syces and guards were all asleep. But Mulraj, who was not, saw him pass and inquired in an under-voice where he was going in such haste. Ash paused briefly to explain and Mulraj looked startled.

‘So? Then I think I will go with you,’ said Mulraj. ‘We can pretend that we wished to spy out the land for game while the others slept, and took the same path as the boy by chance. Then he will not think that he has been followed. Let us be quick.’

Some of Ash's disquiet seemed to have communicated itself to Mulraj, for he began to run. They did not take long to saddle their horses, but to avoid rousing the others they rode through the grove at a walk, as Jhoti had done, and only when they were well clear of the trees did they break into a gallop. At first they could see no sign of the boy, for the plain shimmered under the mid-afternoon sun and the dancing heat-haze hid him from sight. But presently they caught sight of the little figure on horseback and reined their own mounts to a sedate canter.

Bulbul was still jerking his head and sidling impatiently, but Jhoti seemed to have no difficulty in controlling him. He was riding quite slowly through a patch of scrub, presumably in the hope of putting up a hare or a partridge, and Ash breathed a sigh of relief. The child had more sense than he had given him credit for and was evidently right when he asserted that he was quite old enough to look after himself. There had been no need at all for Mulraj and himself to go chasing off after the brat like a pair of anxious nursemaids, since he was plainly no milk-sop, and obviously at home on a horse. If he could only be persuaded to take more exercise and eat less
halwa
, and lose some of that puppy-fat, he would make a first-class rider one of these days; and as Mulraj had already pointed out, he knew how to handle a hawk.

‘We're wasting our time,’ observed Ash irritably. ‘That child knows what he's doing and you and I are behaving like a pair of old women. It's just the sort of thing he complains of, and I don't blame him.’

‘Look –’ said Mulraj, who had not been listening, ‘he has put up a partridge – no, a pigeon I think. Two of them!’

‘Teal,’ said Ash, whose eye-sight was keener. ‘There must be water among those bushes.’

They saw Jhoti rein in and heard his shrill, excited
‘Hai-ai!’
as he rose in the saddle and flung up his arm to help the falcon take off. For a moment bird and boy were motionless: Jhoti standing in his stirrups to gaze upwards and the falcon hanging above him, threshing the air with its wings like a swimmer treading water, until, sighting its prey, it was away with the speed of an arrow. The boy plumped back into the saddle, and was almost unseated as his horse responded with a frenzied bound and plunged forward through the bushes to bolt wildly out onto the stony plain.

‘What on earth –?’ began Ash puzzled; and had no time to finish the sentence, for the next instant he and Mulraj together were racing in pursuit, using whip and spur in a desperate attempt to overtake the run-away.

There was no need for questions, as they could see clearly enough what had happened: Jhoti must have saddled his own horse to avoid waking the syces, and he had failed to pull the girth tight enough, for now the saddle was sliding over to one side, taking him with it and making it impossible for him to check Bulbul's headlong flight. But there was good blood in the boy – Rajput blood, than which there is no finer – and though his mother's birth had been lowly, she had possessed courage and a quick brain, and her youngest son had inherited both. Feeling the saddle slide to the right and finding himself unable to prevent it, he freed his right foot and stood in the left stirrup, and using that as a lever, flung himself forward onto his horse's neck where he clung like a monkey. The saddle swung over and crashed to the ground, striking against one of the flying hooves as it fell and putting the final touch to Bulbul's panic.