The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [362]
Under such conditions the truth was unlikely to be spoken; nor would there be any proof that the speaker was in fact one of the Ranis and not some carefully coached Zenana woman. All things considered, thought Ash, it was a thousand pities that Jhoti should have chosen to take some silly boy's zid against the Resident in Karidkote…
He looked up from the letter in his hand, and meeting Gobind's quiet gaze, said, ‘Do you know what is written here?’
Gobind nodded. ‘The Rao-Sahib did me the honour of reading it to me before he sealed it, so that I should realize how necessary it was to guard it with great care and see that it did not fall into the wrong hands.’
‘Ah,’ said Ash, and reached for the lamp.
Held above the glass chimney, the two sheets of thick Indian-made paper blackened and curled and then burst into flame, and Ash turned them this way and that, watching them burn until at length the flames neared his fingers and he dropped the smouldering fragments to the floor, and putting his foot on them, ground them to powder with a vicious twist of his heel.
‘There. That has removed at least one of the Rao-Sahib's causes for anxiety. As for the rest, his fears may be well founded, but they come too late. Had he torn up the marriage contracts no one would have blamed him. But he did not do so, and now the-harm is done, for the laws and customs of the land are on the Rana's side – and so too is the Political-Sahib, as we have cause to know.’
‘That may be true,’ agreed Gobind quietly. ‘But you are less than just to the Rao-Sahib. Had you known the late Maharajah, you would have realized that the Rao-Sahib had no choice but to do as he did, and see that the marriages were performed.’
‘I know,’ admitted Ash with a sharp sigh. ‘I am sorry. I should not have spoken like that. I know very well that in the circumstances he could do nothing else. Besides, it is over, and we cannot alter the past.’
‘That even the gods cannot do,’ agreed Gobind soberly. ‘But it is the Rao-Sahib's hope, and mine also, that you and I, Sahib, may perhaps be able to do a little towards shaping the future.’
There had been no more talk that night, for Gobind was very tired. Neither he nor his servant Manilal had ever been on a train before, and the journey having left them dizzy and exhausted, both were still asleep when Ash left to go on parade the following morning. It was not until the day's work was over and afternoon well advanced that he was able to speak to Gobind again, but as he had slept very little during the previous night, he had been able to give a good deal of thought to Kaka-ji's disclosures and – when this became intolerable because of the fears that it aroused in him for Juli's safety – to more mundane matters such as the arrangements that must be made for getting Gobind safely to Bhithor. These he put in hand first thing in the morning, despatching his head syce, Kulu Ram, to choose and bargain for a pair of horses from a local dealer, and sending a message to Sarji, asking if he knew anyone who would act as a guide for two travellers wishing to go to Bhithor and anxious to leave on the following day.
The horses and Sarji's reply had been waiting for him on his return to the bungalow, and both had proved equally satisfactory: Sarji wrote that he was sending his own particular shikari, Bukta (a hunter who knew every path, game-track and short-cut through the hills), to guide Ash's friends to Bhithor, while the horses that Kulu Ram had purchased were sturdy and reliable animals, sound in wind and limb and capable, said Kulu Ram, of covering as many koss a day as the Hakim-Sahib required of them.
There remained only one other matter to be settled, the most important of all: how to establish some method of communication between Gobind in Bhithor and Ash in Ahmadabad without arousing the suspicions of the Rana.
The two had discussed this for hours, riding side by side along the river bank,