The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [366]
Ash put it away with a sigh. He must write to Zarin, and tell him to take better care of himself in future. It was great to hear from Wally and get all the news and gossip of the Regiment; but it would be better still to be able to talk to him again – and to serve once more with a regiment that was always in action, instead of one that had seen little or none since the days of the Mutiny, and to which he was only temporarily attached as an uninvited guest who had been wished on them by a higher authority, and who might at any moment be recalled to his own Corps; ‘… only not too soon,’ prayed Ash: not until he had heard from Gobind…
But the days dragged by and no word came out of Bhithor; though it was spring now, and over a year since he had arrived in Ahmadabad ‘on temporary attachment’ to Roper's Horse. How long was temporary? ‘This year, next year, sometime…?’ What was Gobind doing?
Ash paid yet another visit to Jobbling's the Chemist, where he bought a bottle of liniment for the treatment of a fictitious sprain, and passed the time of day with Mr Pereiras, an inveterate gossip who could be counted upon to mention any item of interest (such as a special order for medicines for a ruling prince) without any prompting.
Mr Pereiras had been as voluble as ever and Ash had learned several things about the ailments of a number of prominent people, though nothing about the Rana of Bhithor. But that same evening, returning late to his bungalow, there on the verandah waited a fat, travel-stained figure: Gobind's personal servant, Manilal, bringing news at last.
‘This oaf has been here for two hours,’ said Gul Baz indignantly, speaking in Pushtu (Bhithor again!), ‘but he refuses to eat or drink until he has spoken with you, though I have told him a score of times that when the Sahib returns it will be to bath and change and eat his dinner before speaking to anyone. But this man is a fool and will not listen.’
‘He is the Hakim's servant, and I will see him now,’ said Ash, beckoning Manilal to follow. ‘And in private.’
The news from Bhithor was neither good nor bad, a circumstance well illustrated by the fact that Manilal had been allowed to travel to Ahmadabad, but that Gobind had not dared send a letter with him for fear that he would be searched. ‘Which was done,’ said Manilal with a ghost of a smile, ‘– very thoroughly.’ The message was therefore a verbal one.
The Rana, reported Gobind, was suffering from a combination of boils, indigestion and headaches, due largely to chronic constipation. His physical condition, as was only to be expected considering his mode of life, was poor, but improving – the foreign medicines having proved most efficacious. As for the Ranis, from what he had heard, all was well with them.
The younger and Senior Rani, whose confinement was imminent, was reported to be in good health and eagerly awaiting the birth of her child, whom the soothsayers, astrologers and midwives all confidently predicted would be a son. Already preparations were being made to celebrate this auspicious event in a most lavish manner, and a messenger stood ready to ride with the news to the nearest telegraph office (a distance of many miles) from where it would be sent to Karidkote. But Gobind was somewhat disturbed to learn that this was not, as he had supposed, the Senior Rani's first pregnancy but the third…
He was at a loss to know why no hint of the two previous pregnancies had ever reached Karidkote, since one would have expected such a pleasant piece of news to be announced immediately, but the fact remained that she had twice miscarried in the early months. This, he imagined, might well have been due to grief and shock, as the first miscarriage had coincided with the deaths of her two waiting-women, and the second with that of the faithful old dai, Geeta: which hardly seemed like a concidence. But though he still suspected that