The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [316]
He had fought hard against thinking of Juli during the past weeks, and though he had not always been successful he had done his best, closing his mind against her with a deliberate effort of will whenever the thought of her slipped past his defences. But it had been a constant battle, and one that he knew he would have to continue fighting until time and old age came to his rescue, for he could not spend his days listening to echoes and living on memories. Life had to be lived, and he could not share his with Juli: he would have to come to terms with that – they both would. But tonight he could afford to devote a few hours to her, and who knew but that his thoughts might not be able to reach her across the scant mile that separated them, so that she would know that he was thinking of her, and be comforted.
The park below him was gradually sinking into silence. Dawn came early in these latitudes, and those who had not followed the procession were settling down to get what sleep they could before the birds awoke and another burning day was upon them. But torches still laid a jiggling ribbon of light along the road leading to the city, and Bhithor itself was ablaze with illuminations and noisy with bands and patarkars. High above the crowded houses, the sandstone roofs and cupolas of the Rung Mahal stood out against the night sky, glowing like burnished copper in the light of thousands of chirags, and Ash could picture the scene in the outer courtyard as one by one the elephants came in under the arch of the great gateway, and knelt to let their riders dismount. By now Juli would be in the Zenana Quarters and seeing for the first time the rooms in which she would spend the rest of her days: her women would be removing her jewels and laying away her gala dress, and very soon –
His imagination checked abruptly, but even as his mind winced from the thought, he realized that it would not be Juli but Shushila who would have to share the Rana's bed tonight. The Rana had never wanted Juli and perhaps he never would, and if so she might be left in peace and allowed to live out her life, busy and unregarded, taking care of Shu-shu and of Shu-shu's children; though it was a poor enough outlook for a girl like Juli, who was young and beautiful and formed for love…
To deprive her of motherhood and shut her away from life and happiness in the narrow world of the Zenana was as great a crime against heaven as the caging of a lark; but perhaps Shu-shu would come to realize the extent of that sacrifice, and repay it in the only possible way – with love. Ash could only hope so, though without much confidence, for Shu-shu had depended on her half-sister for so long that by now she took her devotion for granted – and it is only the thirsty or starving who are grateful for bread and water.
Juli was bread and water. But when there was rich food and wine and juicy fruits for the taking, Shu-shu might well lose her taste for plain fare and end by thinking it dull and unnecessary, and turn from it. One could not trust Shu-shu, that was the rub. She might mean well, but she had always been ruled by her emotions, and no one could tell in which direction they would drive her. And after all, she was still only a child and like most children, susceptible to flattery. Among these strangers there would be many who would spare no pains to ingratiate themselves with the new First Lady of the Palace – and several who would do their best to wean her away from her dependence on her half-sister and supplant Juli in her affections.
‘Oh, my darling,’ thought Ash, ‘my dear, sweet, foolhardy love – what will become of you? What is to become of me?’
Once again the future yawned before him as lonely and dark and cold as outer space, and as endless as eternity, and there seemed no point