The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [398]
‘Oh, what does it matter what happened to them?’ interrupted Ash impatiently. ‘Something did, and that's the important thing. The point is, what do we do now?’
‘Leave at once for Ajmer,’ said Sarji promptly, repeating the solution he had arrived at during the watches of the night and already urged upon Ash. ‘And when we get there, demand to see the Agent-General-Sahib himself, and the police Sahibs too, and tell them –’
This time it was Gobind who cut him short. ‘It is too late for that, said Gobind curtly.
‘Because the frontiers are closed? But there is another way out of Bhithor. The way that we came in by. That is still open, for none here know of it.’
‘So my servant Manilal told me. But even if you could leave by any road you chose, it would still be too late. Because the Rana will die tonight.’
He heard Ash catch his breath in a gasp that was harshly audible in the stillness that followed, and turning to look at him, saw the blood drain from his face and realized with a sharp sense of incredulity that the Sahib was afraid, desperately afraid. And in the next moment, and with as much certainty as though it had been shouted aloud, he knew why –
So this was the reason for the Sahib's presence in Bhithor. Not mere foolishness and bravado, or an egotistical belief that no ‘black man’ would dare lay hands on a member of the conquering race, and that one Angrezi should be able to over-awe the Diwan and the council and put the fear of the Raj into the local inhabitants. No – the Sahib had come because he could not help it. Because he had to come. Manilal had spoken no more than the truth when he had said ‘his heart was set on it’.
It was a complication that Gobind would never have dreamed of, and the discovery appalled him as much as it had appalled Kaka-ji and Mahdoo, and for the same reasons. ‘A casteless man… a foreigner… a Christian,’ thought Gobind, shocked to the depths of his orthodox soul. This was what came of relaxing the rules of purdah and permitting young maidens to meet and talk freely with a strange man, Sahib or no. And when the man was young and well-looking and the maidens beautiful, what else could one expect? It should never have been allowed; and he blamed the Rao-Sahib and Mulraj and young Jhoti, and everyone else whose duty it had been to see to the safety and welfare of the future Ranis. Unpora-Bai most of all.
But he knew that such thoughts were futile. What was done was done; and in any case, there was no reason to suppose that the Sahib's feelings had been reciprocated, as in all probability the one to whom he had lost his heart had remained wholly unaware of it. Gobind could only hope so. But this sudden insight into the Sahib's motives did nothing to improve his own disquiet. It merely added to his anxiety, since who could tell what folly a man in love might be capable of committing?
For a space there was silence in the room, and even Sarji seemed unwilling to break it. Gobind watched the blood come slowly back to the Sahib's face and knew what he would say before he said it…
‘I must see the Diwan myself,’ said Ash at last. ‘That is our only chance.’
‘It will not serve,’ said Gobind curtly. ‘That much I can tell you now. If you think differently, then you do not know him, nor have you any understanding of the temper and disposition of his fellow councillors or the people of this city.’
‘Maybe. But I can at least warn him that if he permits the Ranis to burn, he and his fellow councillors will be held responsible, and that the Raj will send a Political-Sahib and a regiment from Ajmer to arrest him and to take over the state and make it a part of British India.’
‘He will not believe you,’ said Gobind quietly. ‘And he will be right: for even to so small and remote a place as this there has come talk of unrest in the north and of the pultons gathering for war. This you too must have heard as your own pulton will surely be among them, and having heard you must also know that the Raj will not move in