The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [424]
He looked down at the gagged and bound creatures that only a minute ago he had wanted to murder, and thought: ‘No. It's not fair.’ And with that old, familiar protest of his childhood, a large part of his rage against them died. They were vile and venial, but Gobind was right; it was not fair to take revenge upon a mere instrument while the hand and brain that guided it escaped scot-free.
He bent above the eunuch and the man's eyes bulged with terror, expecting that the end had come; but Ash had only wanted a piece of muslin. He ripped it from the man's clothes, and knotting the jewels in it, stowed them away in the bosom of his robe, and said curtly: ‘It is time we went. But we had better see to it first that these vermin do not raise an alarm too soon. There is nothing to stop them rolling over to the curtains and wriggling out from underneath them the moment we have gone. They should be tied together and then lashed to one of those pillars. Have you any more rope?’
‘No, we have used all that we brought with us,’ said Gobind. ‘But there is plenty of cloth.’
He stooped for Sarji's discarded turban, and using that and the turbans of the prisoners, who were already gagged with their waist-cloths, they lashed the six side by side in a circle with their backs to one of the central pillars, and bound them to it in a cocoon of vividly coloured muslin.
‘There. That should keep them safe enough,’ said Ash, tying a final reef-knot and jerking it tight. ‘And now for God's sake, let us go. We've wasted too much time already, and the sooner we get out of here the better.’
No one stirred. The bound woman was breathing noisily with an odd bubbling sound, and a wandering breath of wind shook the curtains and set the scraps of looking-glass that decorated them glinting and winking like watching eyes. Down below on the terrace and the burning-ground, the waiting crowds were comparatively silent as they listened to the distant tumult that accompanied the approaching cortege. But in the curtained enclosure no one moved.
‘Well, come on,’ said Ash, the curtness of his voice betraying the extent of his inner tensions. ‘We cannot afford to wait. The head of the procession will be here any moment now and raising enough noise to cover any moaning these creatures in here will make. Besides, we must be well clear of the valley before dark, and the later we leave the sooner someone is going to come in here and find the Rani gone. We must go at once.’
But still no one moved, and he glanced quickly from one face to the next, and was baffled by the mixture of exasperation, embarrassment and unease that he saw there: and the fact that they were not looking at him,, but at Anjuli. He turned swiftly to follow the direction of their gaze, and saw that her back was still towards them and that she too had not moved. She could not have avoided hearing those last words he had spoken, for he had not lowered his voice. Yet she had not even turned her head.
He said sharply: ‘What is it? What is the matter?’
His question had been addressed to Anjuli rather than to the three men, but it was Sarji who answered it:
‘The Rani-Sahiba will not leave,’ said Sarji, exasperated. ‘We had decided that if our plan succeeded, the Hakim-Sahib and Manilal would take her away as soon as she had donned the disguise, leaving me to find you and follow after them. That would have been best for us all, and at first she agreed to it. But then suddenly she said she must wait and see her sister become suttee, and that she would not leave before then. See if you can make