The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [226]
‘But where did he get it from?’ demanded Ash. ‘What was it in? Have you questioned the khansamah and the rest of his servants? Surely all his people eat the same food, don't they? – he can't have been the only one made ill by it.
But it seemed that he was. The poison, said Mulraj, had apparently been in some jellabies, a form of fried sweetmeats that Jhoti was particularly fond of, and that he had found in his tent. Fortunately, he had gobbled the lot – more than enough to make any child sick without there being any sinister ingredients. And equally fortunately, one of his servants, alarmed by the excessive vomiting, had run at once for Gobind instead of losing his head like the rest of them.
‘Did Gobind say it was datura?’ asked Ash.
Mulraj made a gesture of negation with one hand. ‘No. Only that it might be. The boy, as I have said, had eaten them all, even to licking the honey from the leaves on which they had lain, so that nothing remained. His own people said that it was only the excessive number and greasiness of the sweetmeats that was causing him to vomit.’
Apparently Gobind had not been so sure of that; and though he said nothing then of his suspicions, he had treated the child as though for poison and made inquiries among the servants as to where the sweets had come from. But as he told Mulraj later, even if there had been nothing wrong with the jellabies and they had been placed there as a small surprise by someone who was fond of the child and only meant to please him, the very fact that they had made him sick would ensure that the giver would deny all knowledge of them. So he had not been surprised when no one would admit to knowing anything about them.
‘But someone must have seen the boy eating them. Did Gobind ask about that?’
‘Of course. But those who saw supposed – or said they did – that the Rajkumar had brought the jellabies himself. And I myself was only told that in his opinion the child had been poisoned, probably with datura, and that had he not been so greedy he would have died. But all that grease would have helped to coat his stomach and prevent the poison from being too quickly absorbed, and the grease and the sweetness together had made him feel sick, so that he had vomited everything up before it was too late; or that is what Gobind thinks, though he says that it would be difficult to prove. After I had spoken to him, I arranged for Jhoti to be nursed by his sisters. The elder is a woman of sense, and it gives Shushila-Bai something to think of other than the heat and her own troubles.’
Ash said: ‘But there is a guard on the boy's tent. How could anyone –’ and stopped, recalling that there had been a guard on his own tent, yet it had twice been entered without anyone having been seen. He pushed a hand through his hair, looking harassed and angry, and said: ‘I told you we should have spoken out about that first attempt to kill the boy, so that whoever was responsible for it would know that we knew and be afraid to try again. But you wouldn't have it, and now look what has happened. It's been tried again. This time you should have told everyone.’
‘I told you, Sahib,’ observed Mulraj dryly. ‘But it seems that you had other things on your mind, and did not hear.’
Ash said nothing, for he knew that there had been too many occasions of late when, drunk with tiredness, he had only made a pretence of listening without taking in a single world that was being said. He had not let this disturb him overmuch, because he had been sure that if anything of real importance had been mentioned he would certainly remember it, and if he did not, it would only mean that the subject had been of no interest; yet Mulraj had spoken to him about Jhoti and he had not listened to a word. How much more had he missed?… how many