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Authors: John Masters
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theinstallation of the young Rajah and the tiger hunt. He could gauge now the constraint their presence would put on him and the people here. After the tiger hunt he would return to Bhowani, his tasks completed.
There had been no more disturbances in the city, or, so far as he knew, anywhere else in the five thousand square miles remaining to the State of Kishanpur. Once a week letters came from Bhowani—the day he left, Robin had sat on a small scorpion; the dog, Jewel, recently had had a fight with a jackal; Joanna had bought the materials for a new bonnet from a pedlar, and the tailor had made it up for her—total cost, six rupees fourteen annas. She also “presumed” that she would soon receive an invitation to the tiger hunt; he knew she would not, but found it difficult to tell her in so many words. In his letters he “supposed that the Rani had never thought of the matter,” and pointed out that he could hardly “stoop to outright cadging.” It wasn’t true; Sumitra had thought of it. Whenever he tried to manoeuvre conversation towards the subject, she as subtly guided it away again. After several attempts he knew she avoided it deliberately. She was a wonderful woman, but a princess, and an Indian, and his pride forbade him to ask favours of her.
The Commissioner had stayed only a week, and had taken Julio’s troop with him when he returned to Bhowani. The six weeks since had passed quickly, and Rodney had been kept busy training the local army. He had not expected to achieve much in so short a time, and had set to work with mixed feelings. The work was interesting enough; on the other hand, half believing that the Rani was a murderess, he felt a strong distaste for the idea of setting her more firmly in power.
But after a few days the scruffiness and military ignorance of his pupils aroused his soldier instincts. In a week his only thought was that these people were a disgrace to his profession, and he worked on them as keenly as on his own company. He’d even fretted as his time ran out, but knew now that he would go back to Bhowani warmed by a little glow of accomplishment.
For Prithvi Chand he had begun to feel a genuine friendship. The fat captain seemed to be a court parasite, and if he owned a conscience of any kind he kept it concealed under a happy-go-lucky air and a flow of amusing stories. Rodney’s military ferocity terrified him, and it took the Indian two or three weeks to realize that the same man who flayed him so rigorously on parade would joke and drink with him off duty. He reminded Rodney of a gross butterfly, but no one could help liking him, and at parties such as this he was a pleasant companion. Airily drunk with sweet wine, he reclined now on a bank of cushions at Rodney’s elbow. The water bubbled in the silver bowl of his hookah; from time to time he belched explosively, for he too had eaten well and gave thanks there for in the customary way.
Rodney turned to him. “Prithvi, do you and your friends treat all English visitors so—easily? I expected you to be reserved, correct; you have no reason to like us. But it’s been more than that, especially in the last few weeks.”
Prithvi Chand scratched his stomach and grinned slyly. “If you mean Her Highness, Captain, who am I to say? Now don’ be annoyed, I’m only joking—but you know she likes you. She’s very unusual lady.” He glanced round automatically to make sure no one was in earshot. “The old-fashioned dragons wan-wanted her shut herself up rest of her life when the Rajah died—even become suttee. You know most of the princes are here already for the hunt? With their ranis and girls? I’ve got a li’l piece upstairs, she says she—she can’t hear ‘self think for the ‘foreign’ women d’nouncing our Rani’s out-out
rage
ous behaviour! Bzz, bzz, clatter, clatter—at it all day!” He hiccoughed and waved a plump hand in the air. “Waste of breath. Rani says, ever since she’s a li’l girl so
There had been no more disturbances in the city, or, so far as he knew, anywhere else in the five thousand square miles remaining to the State of Kishanpur. Once a week letters came from Bhowani—the day he left, Robin had sat on a small scorpion; the dog, Jewel, recently had had a fight with a jackal; Joanna had bought the materials for a new bonnet from a pedlar, and the tailor had made it up for her—total cost, six rupees fourteen annas. She also “presumed” that she would soon receive an invitation to the tiger hunt; he knew she would not, but found it difficult to tell her in so many words. In his letters he “supposed that the Rani had never thought of the matter,” and pointed out that he could hardly “stoop to outright cadging.” It wasn’t true; Sumitra had thought of it. Whenever he tried to manoeuvre conversation towards the subject, she as subtly guided it away again. After several attempts he knew she avoided it deliberately. She was a wonderful woman, but a princess, and an Indian, and his pride forbade him to ask favours of her.
The Commissioner had stayed only a week, and had taken Julio’s troop with him when he returned to Bhowani. The six weeks since had passed quickly, and Rodney had been kept busy training the local army. He had not expected to achieve much in so short a time, and had set to work with mixed feelings. The work was interesting enough; on the other hand, half believing that the Rani was a murderess, he felt a strong distaste for the idea of setting her more firmly in power.
But after a few days the scruffiness and military ignorance of his pupils aroused his soldier instincts. In a week his only thought was that these people were a disgrace to his profession, and he worked on them as keenly as on his own company. He’d even fretted as his time ran out, but knew now that he would go back to Bhowani warmed by a little glow of accomplishment.
For Prithvi Chand he had begun to feel a genuine friendship. The fat captain seemed to be a court parasite, and if he owned a conscience of any kind he kept it concealed under a happy-go-lucky air and a flow of amusing stories. Rodney’s military ferocity terrified him, and it took the Indian two or three weeks to realize that the same man who flayed him so rigorously on parade would joke and drink with him off duty. He reminded Rodney of a gross butterfly, but no one could help liking him, and at parties such as this he was a pleasant companion. Airily drunk with sweet wine, he reclined now on a bank of cushions at Rodney’s elbow. The water bubbled in the silver bowl of his hookah; from time to time he belched explosively, for he too had eaten well and gave thanks there for in the customary way.
Rodney turned to him. “Prithvi, do you and your friends treat all English visitors so—easily? I expected you to be reserved, correct; you have no reason to like us. But it’s been more than that, especially in the last few weeks.”
Prithvi Chand scratched his stomach and grinned slyly. “If you mean Her Highness, Captain, who am I to say? Now don’ be annoyed, I’m only joking—but you know she likes you. She’s very unusual lady.” He glanced round automatically to make sure no one was in earshot. “The old-fashioned dragons wan-wanted her shut herself up rest of her life when the Rajah died—even become suttee. You know most of the princes are here already for the hunt? With their ranis and girls? I’ve got a li’l piece upstairs, she says she—she can’t hear ‘self think for the ‘foreign’ women d’nouncing our Rani’s out-out
rage
ous behaviour! Bzz, bzz, clatter, clatter—at it all day!” He hiccoughed and waved a plump hand in the air. “Waste of breath. Rani says, ever since she’s a li’l girl so
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