The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [174]
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