The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [389]
Ash told him, and Manilal listened, looking doubtful, and when he had finished, said cautiously that it might serve, but that the Sahib – Ashok – must take into account that the Bhithoris were a surly and suspicious folk, apt to suspect any stranger of being a spy. More especially in the present circumstances. ‘They have no liking for strangers at the best of times,’ said Manilal, ‘and should their Rana die, they would think nothing of slitting all our throats if they thought that we stood in the way of anything that they desired.’
‘Such as a tamarsha,’ said Ash, spitting out the word as though it were a bad taste in his mouth. ‘What you mean is that they are looking forward to the enjoyable spectacle of two high-born and beautiful young women walking unveiled to the burning ground, and being burned alive there before their eyes.’
‘That is true,’ agreed Manilal quietly. ‘To look on the face of a queen, and to watch her die, is something that few will see more than once in a lifetime; so to many it will indeed seem a great tamarsha. But to others – maybe to all – it will be a holy occasion: one that bestows merit on everyone who is present. Therefore on both counts the people of Bhithor will be enraged if any should attempt to prevent it, and only a strong force of well-armed soldiers or police of the Raj will be able to restrain them. But one man, or two or three, can do nothing. Except lose their lives needlessly.’
‘I know,’ said Ash soberly. ‘And I have already thought deeply. I go because I must. It is laid on me. But there is no reason for anyone to go with me, and my friend the Sirdar here knows that.’
‘He also knows,’ put in Sarji, ‘that anyone riding such a horse as Dagobaz would not be travelling alone without a servant or a syce. I can act the part of one or other; or if need be, both.’
Ash laughed and said: ‘You see how it is? The Sirdar comes of his own free will and I cannot prevent him. Any more than you can prevent me. As for Bukta, he goes only to show us the secret paths into Bhithor, so that we may go swiftly and not lose ourselves among the hills, or be stopped and questioned and perhaps turned back by those who guard the known ways. Once our road ahead is clear, there will be no need to take him further and he can return here in safety. You of course must go back to Bhithor by the same road that you came by, and be seen to return openly. It would not do for you to return secretly.’
‘And you?’ asked Manilal, still doubtful. ‘When you have reached the city, what will you do then?’
‘That is in the lap of the gods. How can I know until I see what the situation is and have talked to the Hakim-Sahib, and learned what measures the Sirkar has taken.’
‘If they have taken any,’ muttered Manilal sceptically.
‘Indeed so. Which is why I go. I must discover if they have done so; and if they have not, take what steps I can to see that they do.’
Manilal shrugged and capitulated. But he warned Ash to be very careful about approaching Gobind; his master had never been persona grata with the palace circle in Bhithor, and the Rana's councillors and courtiers had been hostile to him from the first.
‘The Hakim-Sahib has many enemies,’ said Manilal. ‘Some hate him because he is from Karidkote, and some because he is more skilled in the arts of healing than they – while others hate him because he, a stranger, has the ear of the Rana. Me they dislike because I am his servant. But fortunately they also look upon me as a simpleton, which means that we can meet any day as strangers, and by chance, in the main bazaar or the Street of the Coppersmiths, where there are always crowds.’
For the next quarter-of-an-hour they had discussed their plans in some detail, before Manilal left, riding one of Sarji's country-bred hacks in place of Ash's bay, which was thought too showy an animal for a hakim's servant to have acquired. He would take longer to reach Bhithor than the two who meant to go there by way of a smugglers' route across the hills, but he did not think that the difference