The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [123]
‘But he can't do that,’ stormed Ash to his Squadron Commander, white-lipped with anger. ‘What's it got to do with them? It wasn't their fault. Why – why they don't even like the man! They never have.’
‘They belong to the same clan,’ explained the Squadron Commander patiently, ‘and the C.O's a very shrewd bird who knows what he's doing. He wants those carbines back because we can't afford to have that kind of weapon being used in the passes – and because we can't afford to allow one of our fellows to get away with this kind of thing either. It might give a lot of other men ideas. No; he's done the only thing he can. It's a question of izzat. Dilasah has let his clan down and his fellow clansmen will get those carbines back for their own sakes. You'll see. They've probably got a pretty good idea where he's heading for, and the chances are that they'll be back inside forty-eight hours with the rifles.’
‘What if they are?’ demanded Ash. ‘They've had their uniforms stripped off them and they've been flung out – punished and publicly disgraced for something that had nothing whatever to do with them. If there was any justice, I'm the one who ought to be punished – or you! I knew that man was up to no good, and so did you. I warned you, and you brushed it off as though I'd brought you some footling fairy-story. But I could still have done something to prevent this, and Malik and the others couldn't. It isn't fair!’
‘Oh for God's sake grow up, Pandy,’ snapped the Squadron Commander, losing his patience: ‘You're behaving like a child of two. What's got into you? You've been going round like a bear with a sore head for the last few days. Aren't you feeling well?’
‘I'm perfectly well, thank you,’ retorted Ash angrily. ‘But I don't like injustice and I'm going to see the C.O. myself.’
‘Well, rather you than me. He's not in a particularly good mood at the moment, and after you've heard what he has to say you'll wish you'd had more sense.’
But Ash was beyond the reach of reason, not only on account of Dilasah Khan's defection and the dismissal of his fellow clansmen. That had merely been the last, and by no means worst incident, in a week that he was to look back on as the blackest period of his life. Ever afterwards, nothing would ever seem so bad again, because he himself was never again to be the same kind of person that he had been until then…
It had begun with the arrival of a letter by the morning post, and he had not even recognized the writing on the envelope, but had opened it casually in the mess, expecting it to contain only another invitation to a dinner-party or a dance. Mrs Harlowe's well-meant letter, informing him that her daughter was engaged to be married, had been as unexpected as the first shock of an earthquake.
Belinda was so very, very happy, wrote Mrs Harlowe, and she did so hope that he would do nothing to spoil that happiness, but be sensible about it and not enact them any tragedies, for it must have become plain to him by now that he and Belinda were quite unsuited to each other, and in any case he was much too young to be thinking of marrying and settling down. Ambrose was in every way a far more suitable husband for Belinda, and she felt sure that Ashton would be unselfish enough to rejoice in her daughter's great happiness and wish her the best of good fortune in the future. Belinda had asked her to break the news to him, as owing to all the foolish talk there had been between them, the dear child felt that he might prefer it that way…
Ash sat staring at the letter for so long that eventually one of his friends had inquired if he were feeling all right, and had had to repeat the question three times before receiving an answer. ‘Yes – I mean, no. It's nothing,’ said Ash confusedly.
‘Bad news?’ asked Wigram Battye sympathetically.
‘ No. Only a headache – touch of the sun, I expect. Think I'll go and lie down,’ said Ash. And added unexpectedly: ‘I don't believe it!’
‘Believe what? I say, old fellow, hadn't you better see the M.O.? You're looking like death,’ observed