Coromandel! (35 page)

‘How much?’

‘Countless.’

The paper rustled. The voice said, ‘Can you read it?’ The paper rustled again for a longer time. The dewan said, ‘No, lord.’

The Rawan said, ‘You can read it, woman?’

She said, ‘Yes, lord.’

The Rawan said, ‘Kill the man, then.’

She said, ‘Lord, there is a part that only he can read.’

The room echoed with a sudden and surprisingly pleasant chuckle. The yellow ranks stirred; everybody murmured with laughter. The Rawan said, ‘You will have to divide your share with him--you realize that? There are plenty of strong men in my kingdom. Are you sure you can’t read the map without his help?’

She said, ‘Without him it is impossible.’

The Rawan said, ‘Why did you not say you were skilled in diplomacy when I asked you? I do not need dancers. I have hundreds of them. You shall both live. Answer me one question, and you shall live well. You shall be a secret councillor. Publicly this clod of a husband of yours must be the councillor, because you are a woman. This is the question. How can I prevent Mansur’s deceivers from deceiving me?’

She said, ‘Lord, you will gain greater wealth by preventing them from stealing and killing. Your subjects will grow rich. More travellers will pass through your kingdom, spending their money as they go. More--‘

Beside her, Jason laughed shortly and said, ‘Lord, she is a woman. You should indeed prevent them from robbing and killing in your kingdom. And your people will grow rich just as she says. You should give these murderers land, to each a portion according to his skill--but tell them to rob only in the territories of your neighbours, not in yours. Promise to protect them. Then they will rob on all sides of Kishanpur, and, because they can quickly find sanctuary here, they need not pay any part to the kings of the lands surrounding yours. You will get a larger share.’

‘A marvel!’ the Rawan said slowly, and the jewel flashed in his hat.

She caught hold of Jason’s arm and cried in English, ‘Don’t! This is worse than stealing with your own hands! Oh, my love, don’t be bitter. There are people in the world you can trust.’

But Jason went on relentlessly. ‘Don’t ask a percentage, lord. They will always cheat. Charge them a flat sum for the sanctuary--a good large sum. Then let them keep all they make.’

‘A miracle!’ the Rawan said.

‘In the winter they will go out to work on the roads. For the rest of the year employ them as tax collectors for yourself. They will know where rich men hide their money while pretending to be poor.’

The black hat rose slowly, the jewel twinkled. ‘By my ancestors, this is wisdom such as I have never heard! My friend, you shall be head of my council, and the woman shall be second. Can you think of anything else?’

Jason said, ‘Not now, lord. Later I will.’

She shook herself wearily. She’d think of some way to escape this fate soon. Now she must keep her wits. She said, ‘Prince, make Mansur give us back our donkey and our books and clothes. And my lord’s knife your men have taken.’

The Rawan said, ‘It shall be done. Show them to a good chamber.’

She said, ‘Prince--the map?’

The Rawan said, ‘I will take good care of it. Is it really genuine?’

Jason said, ‘No,’ and Catherine said, ‘Yes,’ simultaneously.

The Rawan said, ‘Ah! He is apt to be a little over-cunning, is he? He would like me to think it is not really of any value--now that his neck is safe? Well, well. Is this treasure on my lands, or on the lands of my revered Moslem overlord, the Grand Mogul?’ He spat.

She said, ‘It is beyond your lands.’

The Rawan said, ‘Then we shall have to be careful. And how am I going to be sure that you bring back all you find?’ Catherine said, ‘Send an officer with us. Send Mansur Khan.’ The Rawan cried, ‘Magnificent! I have gained a diamond brooch, ten thousand rupees in gold--and two priceless pearls. You shall set out in seven days.’

The yellow ranks broke up. Hands took her, but gently now, and led her out. They went slowly, one behind the other, along the passages. A yellow coat fussed along in front, murmuring, ‘This way, lord. Mind the step. Turn to the right here, ma’am.’

Jason said, ‘Now I’m a great man again!’ He laughed harshly. ‘A great man! No one will laugh at me for a time now.’

She said desperately, ‘You promised never to steal again.’

‘Steal? I’m not going to steal,’ he said. ‘Not one whoreson farthing! I’m going to see that no one steals. I’m going to stop Mansur from stealing, and Mansur is going to keep rich men out of the temptation not to pay their proper taxes. Look at this beautiful room we are getting.’

The officer had thrown back the curtains covering a heavy door. They were looking into a light and luxurious apartment with three wide windows. The moon was high, and she saw the river far below, and across the river the moonlit waves of the jungle. She was exhausted, and the pain of Jason’s bitterness overwhelmed her. She sank slowly, trembling, on to the divan.

After a moment Jason came to her, and she felt his hand on her forehead and heard his unsteady voice. ‘I’m sorry, Catherine. But what else can I do? Perhaps, after all, I am the same sort of person that they are.’

Jason let go of her hands and shouted, ‘Hey!’ and the dance ended.

She sat down, panting, on the divan. It was exhausting, this wild English dance, when you were not used to it. But she could have danced all day and all night with him, if he would let her. He was a good teacher, too, patient and skilful. She felt that he had come immeasurably closer to her since the night she drew his knife on him. He was not happy; he had not lost his bitterness; he had not regained his wonder or his innocence or his trust in the map--all of which she hoped would come together; but, slowly and hesitantly, he was finding her. These dancing lessons, which he had suddenly instituted the day after they reached here, were an indication.

She said, ‘Will I ever be any good?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said patronizingly. ‘But never as good as Molly or Emily.’

‘I don’t expect to,’ she said, ‘but I’d like to be able to dance well enough so that you can dance your best with me.’

She heard water gurgling out of the water jug. Then Jason said, ‘Let’s read now.’

‘Very well.’

But someone called from outside the door, and Mansur Khan came in and said, ‘We leave tomorrow to find the treasure. These are the clothes you will wear.’ A heavy pile flopped softly to the floor.

‘These?’ Jason said. ‘These plain things? Why can’t we wear our own clothes?’

‘We will be travelling in the lands of the Grand Mogul,’ Mansur said. ‘His servants are unconscionably greedy, and often sharp-eyed.’ He went out, and Catherine smiled, in spite of herself. Mansur hated both of them, especially her, and yet was awed by the skill with which they had saved their own lives, had him fined ten thousand rupees, and made themselves councillors of the Rawan--all within the space of an hour.

When they were alone she jumped up and cried, ‘Tomorrow we really go to follow your map, wherever it may lead! We’ll see the Castle of the Holy Men, and the mountain Meru--and things neither of us has ever dreamed of!’

‘Perhaps,’ he said gently.

‘Aren’t you excited?’ she cried. ‘I am!’

She reached out tenderly, her arms trying to gather him in, but he leaned away from her. She said, ‘Please believe in the map, Jason. You want to, don’t you?’

After a time he said, ‘Yes.’

‘Then do! What harm can it do you?’

He said slowly, ‘I do believe in it.’

‘Because of me? Just to please me?’

‘No,’ he said quickly--too quickly. She sighed and turned away. He jumped up. ‘But I do, Catherine. I’ve learned how clever, how wise you are. If you believe in it, I do. But what’s the good? We’ll find the treasure and come back here, and nothing will have changed. We can’t escape.’

She thought: It’s no good going on arguing now. He doesn’t really mean what he says. Perhaps it is enough for now that he even says he believes in the map. The old doubt came back to her; she was sure the map was false.

She moved her head restlessly. She could only go on hoping that Jason would discover himself before they reached the mountain Meru and found nothing there--perhaps not even a mountain.

Jason said, as though to convince her of his faith, ‘We never found out who the galloper in the fur cap was. We were going to ask Mansur Khan, do you remember? But we never did.’ He laughed without mirth.

She said, ‘I found out. Azeema the concubine told me yesterday--the one who is being sent with us as my tirewoman. The man was a Mongol messenger. The emperors themselves came from beyond the mountains years ago. They are descended from Tamerlane, and they still have many servants from their old homeland--Samarkand! So you see, the map was right again. The picture on it is quite clear, of men in fur hats somewhere beyond the mountains, and now we have seen such a man, and Azeema has told me that he came from beyond the mountains. I wonder what mountains look like--real big ones. I saw some in Italy once, but they weren’t very big.’

Jason changed the subject. ‘Shall we read?’

She had been thinking all the while. They were off tomorrow. Something must be done. Jason had said wearily, ‘We can’t escape,’ meaning that fate seemed to have chained him to a life of power and wealth, earned by murder, and enjoyed among books and music and dancing. But they could escape--at least from Kishanpur.

Azeema was a strange, hard little thing, no more than fifteen, but old in a kind of cruel wisdom. And she was a devout Mohammedan, while the Rawan and all his court were Hindus.

And she had recently been whipped for some minor harem peccadillo.

Catherine said, ‘Oh, Jason, I promised to talk to Azeema again today. I must go. We’ll read later.’

She kissed him on the forehead and left him.

She sat on cushions in a dim comer of the harem. The air, stirred by a breeze through the arched window slits, smelled of cloying flower perfume and the sharp odour of musk. Azeema sat opposite her--a shape of rustling green and gold, over-large glowing eyes, and black round them, all smudged and wavering together--so close that she could hear the girl’s even breathing.

Catherine said, ‘Will you do it?’

Azeema said, ‘Yes. I hate this pig of a Rawan, anyway. But I am thinking how to send a message, and to where.’

Flies buzzed around them. Below, by the river, a man sang an old love song, and the oars of the fishermen clunked in the rowlocks, and rhythmically a woman slapped wet clothes against a stone.

Catherine said, ‘Is there not a Mogul post near the frontier? To collect taxes or the like?’

‘Yes,’ the girl said quickly. ‘That’s it.’ She named the place. ‘But we won’t be going along that road. We shall use a little-known road farther east.’

Catherine said, ‘But if word reaches the post in time the officer can send to intercept us.’

Azeema said, ‘But how can word reach him? Don’t think I am afraid, sister, but I don’t know--I cannot go myself.’

‘Your priest?’ Catherine said.

Azeema muttered, ‘The mullah? He is an old man with a grey beard. How can he ride so far in so short a time?’

‘Men tell me you are beautiful,’ Catherine said with a smile. ‘Are not your eyes black, and blacker from kohl? Could not tears shine in them, to make even an old man leap on a horse and ride till he dropped?’

Azeema chuckled delightedly. ‘I think it is possible. I can try, at least, and I
am
beautiful, though this Hindu dog of a Rawan does not think so--more than once every six months. Bah!’

‘Will you go tonight, then?’ Catherine cut in quickly.

‘I will go now, as soon as you have left me. That is one advantage I do have. None of these Hindus know the customs of our religion, and they are so afraid of the Great King--who is, of course, a believer--that they dare not forbid anyone to see the mullah at any time. So I go when I wish.’

Catherine rose to her feet and stooped to kiss the girl on the cushions. ‘God be with you,’ she said.

‘With us!’ Azeema amended, and then, shortly: ‘Don’t think I am not acting for myself too. I need a whole man, not the two-hundredth part of a bloodless weasel.’

The horses champed in the courtyard, and it was dawn. She counted the uncertain shapes of the party--Mansur; a lieutenant; five soldiers in dirty white, armed with swords; four servants, including Mansur’s; Azeema, the concubine; Jason; herself--fourteen in all. They had fourteen broken-down riding horses, and each servant led three pack horses, so there were twelve of those. Mansur sounded more than ever like a nervous merchant, and the pack horses were loaded with opium, cotton, and fine oils. The yellow coat and the black sail-hat leaned over a balcony above, in silence.

Azeema whispered in Catherine’s ear, ‘The mullah found he was not so old as he thought.’

She said, ‘Oh, Azeema!’

‘Don’t look so shocked. I only had to cry a little. I told you I was beautiful.’

Mansur said, ‘We are ready, lord.’

The Rawan said, ‘Go, then. You know what to do if the foreigners should try to escape--though I don’t think they will. And in the name of Vishnu, remember your skill at pretending when you are questioned. And don’t use the black cloths.’

They wound out of the gate and into the open, turned north, and settled down to a steady walking pace. They camped that night in a mango grove among rich fields; and the next in a thicket of jungle by another river; and on the third day, at a great pillar set in the road, they passed out of the Rawan’s kingdom and into the lands of the Great King, the Grand Mogul.

She heard Mansur speaking to Jason. ‘Now be on your guard. These Mohammedan officials are nothing but pirates. We shall be lucky if we reach the mountains with even half our loads.’

They rode on across the flat country, green with crops and ashake in the midday glare. Jason said, ‘Why is the Grand Mogul the overlord of our Rawan?’

Mansur said, ‘Because the devil Akbar conquered us in battle fifty years ago. So the Rawan must call himself a viceroy for his own lands!’

A galloping shape bore down on them in a cloud of dust from in front. Catherine tensed as a snaffle-chain jingled and a horse neighed. A voice said, ‘Cavalry ahead, Mansur. By the huts there.’ Ah, it was one of their own soldiers, ridden back from his place in the van.