The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [39]
Biju Ram had intended to brand him on the forehead, which could possibly have killed him. But Lalji, for all his fury, still retained a measure of caution, and it occurred to him that as his father might not altogether approve of such proceedings, it might be wiser to mark Ashok in a place less likely to catch the Rajah's eye. Biju Ram was therefore forced to content himself with pressing the mouth of the pistol to the victim's bared breast. There had been an odd sizzling sound and a smell of burnt flesh, and though Ash had resolved that he would die rather than give Bichchhu the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, he had been unable to stop himself. His scream of pain had drawn another giggling laugh from the dandy, but its effect upon Lalji was unexpected. It had aroused his better nature, and he had thrown himself at Biju Ram, dragging him back and crying wildly that it was all his own fault and that Ashok was not to blame. At which point Ash had fainted.
‘He's dying,’ shrieked Lalji, overcome by remorse. ‘You've killed him, Bichchhu. Do something, one of you. Send for a hakim*… fetch Dunmaya. Oh, Ashok, don't die. Please don't die.’
Ash was nowhere near dying, and he had recovered soon enough. The ugly burn had healed cleanly, thanks to the skilful ministrations of Sita and Dunmaya and his own good health, though the scar it left was to last as long as he lived; not as a circle, but as a crescent, for he had flinched sideways as he felt the heat, so that the muzzle had not pressed evenly and Lalji had pulled Biju Ram away before he could rectify this error. ‘I would have marked you with the sun,’ said Biju Ram, ‘but it seems that would have been to do you too much honour, and it is only right that by your cringing you should turn the sun into a mere moon instead' – but he was careful not to say that in front of Lalji, who did not care to be reminded of the episode.
Strangely enough, the two boys had been better friends after that, for Ash was well aware of the heinousness of his offence and knew that in former days he would have been strangled, or trampled to death by the Rajah's elephants. The least he had expected even now was the loss of a limb or an eye, for it was no light crime to lay violent hands on the heir to the throne, and grown men had paid with their lives for lesser offences; so he was relieved that his punishment had been no worse, and astonished that the Yuveraj should have intervened to stop it. The fact that he had not only done so, but publicly admitted himself to be in the wrong, had impressed Ash a great deal, as he was aware what that admission must have cost the Yuveraj.
He missed Tuku unbearably, but he did not attempt to tame another mongoose. Nor did he make any more pets, for he knew that he could never trust Lalji again, and that to let himself become fond of some other creature might only mean providing a useful weapon to be used against him the next time the Yuveraj was out of temper or wished to punish him. Yet despite this (and certainly from no wish of his own) he was to acquire an unexpected substitute for Tuku. Not an animal this time, but a very small human being: Anjuli-Bai, the shy, neglected baby daughter of the unfortunate Feringhi-Rani.
It was one of Lalji's good qualities – he had many, and given the right circumstances they might well have outweighed the bad ones – that he was unfailingly kind to his little half-sister. The child was frequently to be found in his apartments,