The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [479]
‘I – I tried to reason with her. To plead with her. I went on my knees to her and begged her in the name of all that lay between us – the years… the tie of blood and the affection we had had for each other in the past, the love – but at that she laughed, and summoning the eunuchs, had me dragged away…’
Her voice failed on the last word, and in the silence that followed Ash became aware once more of the sound of the sea and all the many small ship noises; and that the cabin smelled strongly of hot lamp oil and the fried puris that had been served with the evening meal and that there was still a lingering odour of stale cigar-smoke to remind him that this had been Red's cabin for many years. But up on the deck it would be cool and the stars were once again familiar ones, for the skies of the south had been left behind – and with them Bhithor and its harsh stony hills, and all that had happened there.
It was over – finished. Khutam hogia! Shushila was dead, and all that remained to show that she had ever lived was the print of her small hand on the Suttee Gate of the Rung Mahal. Sarji, Gobind and Manilal had gone; and Dagobaz too… They were all part of the past, and though he would not forget them, it would be best not to think of them too often until enough time had passed to allow him to do so calmly, and without pain.
He drew a long slow breath, and reaching out, took Anjuli's hands in his and said gently: ‘Why didn't you tell me all this before, Larla?’
‘I could not. It was… it was as though my heart and mind had been so bruised that I could not endure any more emotion. I only wanted to be quiet; and not to have to answer questions and to put it all into words. I had loved her for so long, and I had thought that she – that she was fond of me. Even when I thought that I hated her, I found that I could not forget what she had once meant to me… how sweet she had been as a child. And then – then when I saw her walk to the pyre, and knew what would happen when she realized what she had done and that there was no escape, I – I could not bear to have her suffer so terrible a death. I could not! Yet if I had only gone when you wished, perhaps all those others would not have died. Their blood was on my head and I could not bear it – or bear to hear my own voice relating things that – that even now I can hardly believe can really have happened. I wanted to hide it all away… to bury it and pretend that it could not be true. But it would not stay buried.’
‘It will now, my Heart,’ said Ash, and pulled her up into his arms. ‘Oh, my love, I have been so afraid. So terribly afraid. You do not know! All this time I have thought that you were grieving for her, and that you had found out that I could not replace her because she had taken all your love and there was none left for me. I thought I had lost you –’
His voice broke, and suddenly Anjuli's arms were tight about his neck and she was crying, ‘ No, no, no – it was not so: I have always loved you – always, always. More than anyone in the world –’ And then the tears came.
But this time Ash knew that they were healing tears, washing away some of the horror and bitterness and guilt from her bruised heart, and easing the terrible tension that had held her in a vice-like grip for so long. When at last they were spent, he lifted her head and kissed her, and presently they went out together into the cool, star-spangled darkness, and for that night at least, forgot the past and the future and everything and everyone but each other.
48
Ten days later, on a still and pearly morning before sunrise, the Morala dropped anchor off Keti on the delta of the Indus, and landed three passengers: a burly Pathan, a slim,