The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [296]
Today the outer arches on the windward side were closed by kus-kus tatties and those on the opposite side by split-cane chiks, which while helping to reduce the temperature to something approaching coolness, filled the Diwan-i-Am with a shadowy gloom that seemed even deeper by contrast with the brightness outside. But even the combination of shadows and the low sunlight of the waning afternoon did not prevent Ash from seeing that every face in that crowded assembly room wore an expression of smug anticipation that was, in some cases, tinged with derision, and it was immediately clear to him that they were confidently expecting to witness the public humiliation of the emissaries from Karidkote and the foolish young Sahib who was their spokesman, and to enjoy the skill with which their crafty ruler had played his cards and out-witted his hapless guests. It was a pity, thought Ash sardonically, that they were to be disappointed on both counts. And dispensing with the accepted preliminaries of debate – the polite greetings, the compliments and the hollow expressions of mutual esteem and good-will that wasted so much time – he came straight to the point.
‘I have noticed,’ said Ash, addressing the Rana in a voice that none present had ever heard him use before, ‘that Your Highness has seen fit to man all three forts that command the valley. For which reason I desired this meeting, so that I might inform you, in public durbar, that if so much as one of the guns that are trained upon our camp should be fired, your state will be taken over by the Government of India and you yourself will be deposed and sent away to spend the remainder of your life in exile. I will also inform you that I intend to strike camp and remove to our first site, outside the valley, where we shall remain until you are prepared to come to terms with us. Our terms. That is all I have to say.’
The grim certainty of his own voice surprised him, for his mouth was dry and he had, in fact, no confidence whatsoever in the Government's willingness to take such action – or indeed, give him any support. They were, he thought, more likely to reprimand him for making unauthorized threats in their name and ‘exceeding his instructions’. But then the present company was not to know that. The Diwan's jaw had dropped and the Rana's face was a study in shock. And of a sudden it seemed as if every man in those close-packed ranks of men had caught his breath and was holding it; for though the wind still whined through the kus-kus tatties and rattled the swaying chiks with a maddening, monotonous tattoo, there was no other sound under the painted arches. Noting this, Ash realized that any further discussion could, at this point, rob the threat of half its effect, so without giving the Rana time to reply, he collected his own party with a jerk of the head and stalked out of the Diwan-i-Am, the jingle of his spurs and the clank of his sword sharply audible in the stunned silence.
This time no one had been sent hurrying after them, and there had been no attempt to delay their departure. The escort and their horses had been ready and waiting for them, and they had mounted without any words of farewell and clattered out of the courtyard and back through streets that were full of strolling citizens come out to ‘eat the evening air’.
Kaka-ji had been the first to speak, but only after they were safely through the city gate and riding down the valley into the eye of the setting sun, and even then he had lowered his voice as though he were afraid of being overheard:
‘Is it true, Sahib, what you told the Rana? Will the Sirkar (Government) indeed dispossess him if he uses his guns upon us?’
‘I do not know,’ confessed Ash with a wry grin. ‘They should. But then one cannot tell how the affair would