‘Just as you wish, Jemadar-sahib,’ the other said politely.
‘It’s worth trying.’ Mansur’s voice boomed through the trees. ‘Ohé, Jason! Come back, and we will make you a member of the band. Your woman can live in one of our villages while you are on the road. We do not permit women to travel with us. Come back now to the fire. Otherwise we will certainly catch you tomorrow and kill you!’ Aside he muttered--but she heard it--’We will find them round here in the next two or three days if we look for them.’ Once more he raised his voice. He shouted, ‘Come back, and you shall be a great man among us! Six months on the road, six months as a gentleman of leisure!’
Beside her, Jason started. He was sweating like a horse frantic for the race. This power, this wealth, and half a year with the shelves of books and the thin voice of the flute! The wind from the Plain that he always talked about, blowing through his mind. Power like the Romans, like the people of Stonehenge, where, to him, the stones smelled of blood in their places. He leaned forward to call out to the leader.
The pistol was useless. She slipped her hand down his back and drew his knife from its sheath. She stepped close and slipped the point of the knife under his ribs, and pushed. He should not go, and she was not afraid to die with him.
She thought his pale eyes turned down in amazement on her, but he made no sound. Perhaps he did not even feel the knife in his flesh, though the running blood warmed her fingers.
She listened desperately, holding hard to the slippery handle, while Mansur and his men walked back in procession to the grove.
Now he was safe. She wrenched out the knife and flung herself against him, trying to enwrap him in love. She whispered, ‘I couldn’t let you, Jason. I love you.’
He turned away from her, and she heard him vomiting and gasping and trying to make no sound in the agony of his disgust. She put her hand under his forehead and crooned gently to him until he recovered. Yet, in all his pain, which she shared, and in all her horror that she had wounded him, she felt a stubborn gladness. It had taken a rougher lesson than any she could have given, and for a moment the temptation had almost overthrown him--but now he was safe. One road was blocked to him for ever. He would not seek his goal through violence.
For three days they crept through the jungles, eating what berries they could find. On the fourth day, when shimmering rocks and ghostlike trees stretched for ever around her, Jason said, ‘A road!’
The ground sloped down beneath her feet, and she went carefully. Soon she told Jason she smelled water. He said, ‘There, a trickle, along the side of the road.’ They knelt and drank, and when she had had enough she stood up and looked around. The blurred foreground gave way to the focused distance. They were standing on the lip of an escarpment, and to the north the land spread away in a wide plain scattered with hummocky hills. In the middle distance a white city shone in the plain, and beside it she saw the silver flash of a river.
Jason dabbed water on the inflamed sore on her arm and muttered, ‘I’m tired. How are you? I wonder how far the city is?’ She could not guess. Jason said, ‘Ten miles, at least.’
She smiled at him and said cheerfully, ‘I can walk ten miles.’ He said, ‘You’re as strong as a horse. But you’ll need some real food before you can hope to walk that far in this heat.’ The tone of his voice refreshed her. When she held the knife under his heart she had done something more than prevent him from joining Mansur’s band. Jason respected her now--for the wrong reasons, to be sure--and took extra care of her, as though to prove that in spite of her strength of will she still needed him.
After a moment he said, ‘Someone’s coming from the south. They’ve gone into a dip now, and I can’t see them. They must have some food.’
She said, ‘Give me the pistol.’ She held out her hand. Jason had forsworn robbery, but hunger knew no law.
He said, ‘But, Catherine, it’s empty.’
She said, ‘Give it to me, dear. They might think you were going to threaten them. Perhaps they are as hungry as we.’ Grumbling, he handed over the pistol, and she threw it far into the scrub. Jason said, ‘I can see them again now. They’re less than a quarter of a mile away. Two--four--five, with three horses and a donkey.’ A long pause. She felt him stiffen beside her. He whispered, ‘The man in front is wearing a blue robe.--He rides like ‘ His hand grabbed hers, and he said, ‘Mansur! Quick, back into the jungle.’
In the shelter of the trees thirty yards from the road he said, ‘Can you run?’
She said, ‘Not easily. Could they have seen us?’
Jason’s voice steadied. He said, ‘We were in the shade. They might not have noticed us. We’ll hide here. Why did you throw my pistol away?’
She said, ‘
They
know it isn’t loaded.’
Then they crouched together and held their breathing to silence until the travellers passed by from south to north along the road. Jason whispered, ‘Mansur Khan--looking nervously from side to side! The treacherous swine! God’s blood, our donkey! They’ve got our donkey.’
Then they waited another half-hour before they crept out to look up and down the road. Jason cried, ‘They’ve gone, Catherine! They’re going to the city! There will be a king or a rajah there, or perhaps a Mogul governor like the one they had in Sagthali. God’s blood, he’s not going to get away with our donkey. Hurry!’
They began to walk quickly north, Jason keeping a careful eye on the dust and the now frequent muddy patches, for signs of Mansur’s party. She thought: It isn’t our donkey, because we stole it. Why are we so anxious to get it back?
She spoke to Jason, and he snapped, ‘I don’t care whose donkey it is. You’re the one who didn’t want me to rob because it’s wicked. You can’t tell me now not to get Mansur punished. Why, he’s--he’s the wickedest man I’ve ever met.’
She said slowly, ‘Yes, but--‘ She was still afraid but didn’t want to tell Jason so.
When they came to the outskirts of the city she unfastened a gold mohur from the corner of her skirt, and they ate quickly, and Jason found out that the name of that place was Kishanpur and its ruler a rajah called the Rawan. Close to the eating-house the square bulk of the Rawan’s fortress-palace rose against the evening sky, and they saw the river behind it, and tall trees in a garden under the north wall, and beyond the river the rolling, rising carpet of jungle.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
Now she had thought of a reason with which to cloak her reasonless fear. She said, ‘But, Jason, are you sure that you want to complain to the Rawan? There may be trouble. He may keep us here. Is it worth it, just for revenge?’
He said, ‘It’s not for revenge. We can’t leave Mansur free to murder more travellers when we can so easily have him caught and punished. Besides, why should there be trouble?’ She said, ‘I don’t know, but I think there-may be.’ Then her heart softened because what Jason said was true and right, and she smiled at him and said, ‘But we must go.’
Soon the shadow of the huge eastern wall of the fort towered over her and then she saw yellow, moving, and a flash of steel, and behind that a black tunnel. A voice said, ‘What do you want?’
Jason muttered, ‘It’s the sentry at the gate.’ He began to explain in slow Urdu that they wished to see the Rawan or his chamberlain. The soldier said, ‘You can’t go in now. The hour of public audience is long past.’ He paused, and his voice became sly. He said, ‘I’d get into trouble if I let you in.’
She knew he wanted a bribe. She slipped him a handful of small coins and heard the
chink-chink
as he counted them. He said gruffly, ‘Go on in, then.’
Jason said, ‘But who should we ask for?’
The soldier said, ‘What do I care? What is your business?’ Jason said, ‘We fell in with a gang of murderers on the road, but by chance we escaped. Their chief is in the town now and can be caught. His name is Mansur Khan.’
The soldier’s spear flashed, and he said in a changed voice, ‘Oh!’
He shouted, ‘Ohé, within!’ More yellow blobs floated out of the tunnel and surrounded them. The sentry said, ‘These people escaped from a band of murderers. The leader of the band was called Mansur Khan, they say.’
The other soldiers said, ‘Oh, do they?’ Hands seized her, a sword-point pricked her. The soldiers hurried her into the black tunnel. It must be the entry port. They crossed a courtyard where a fountain tinkled, and stumbled down into a passage below the earth. Jason kept shouting, ‘What’s this? What have we done?’ But the hurrying yellow blobs only said, ‘Hold your tongue!’ and when he began to struggle she said, ‘Save yourself, dear.’
They were pushed into a dark place. The door slammed, the bolts grated. They stood alone in deep blackness under the fort. After a time she heard the river chuckling and whispering above their heads, beyond the walls of their dungeon. She smelled rats and mildew and old blood. Jason said, ‘They’ve taken my knife.’
Much later men came down the passage, the door opened, and she blinked in the strong glare of hand torches. There were five yellow blobs among the torches, one with white below and a wavering black sail above. That must be his hat. This man said, ‘Stand up.’ They stood slowly, holding hands. She remembered what Jason told her had happened in Ponpalamai. She ran her finger along the top of his missing nail. Not again!
The man in the hat said, ‘I am the dewan of this kingdom. You are foreigners? From where?’
Jason said, ‘I am from England, this girl from Portugal. Why have we been--?’
The man said, ‘The Rawan wishes to see you. He has never seen a foreigner.’ He spoke a word to the soldiers, who dragged Jason and Catherine into the passage. Then they climbed up many stairs but never saw daylight, and she knew it was night.
The soldiers thrust them through gold gauze, and she saw black and yellow, and moving yellow and white above it, and another black sail-hat, and ranks of yellow and steel on either hand, and pale red sandstone walls in the distance.
There was a long silence. At length a cold voice spoke. ‘What skills have you?’
Jason said, ‘I can dance.’
A single point of white fire, ringed with red, blazed in the black sail in front of her and moved as the hat moved. It must be an immense diamond in a ruby setting.
The voice said, ‘Dance? Pah! Can you build the European guns? Make powder?’
Jason said, ‘No, lord, but--‘
A diamond in a ruby setting--only one! But she had seen two, in a smoky corner behind a curtain, in the Sagthali serai.
The voice said, ‘They are useless to us. The woman is not beautiful. Kill them.’ The yellow ranks broke; they seized her and began to drag her out. She pulled against them and said quietly, ‘That is a bright jewel in your hat, lord. Where is its twin?’
The voice said sharply, ‘Stay! This jewel has no twin, woman. It is unique.’
She said, ‘Lord, I am nearly blind. I can see only a point of white light, surrounded by red. But in Sagthali I became friendly with a dancer who was travelling with us. She showed me her jewels. Those she valued most were a pair of brooches, each a great diamond in a ruby setting. May I look at the jewel in your hat?’
The voice said, ‘Yes.’
She stepped forward, her eyeglass in her hand. She examined the brooch carefully, although a single glance was enough. It was one of the old dancer’s pair. Then, while pretending to look at the brooch, she studied the man who was wearing it. He had thin lips and hooded brown eyes, and a thin face. This was a hard man, dedicated to power.
She lowered her glass and said, ‘It is one of the pair belonging to the dancer.’
The sail-hat turned; the cold voice said, ‘Is the jemadar in the palace?’
The dewan said, ‘Yes, lord.’
‘Fetch him.’
Then they waited, and there was no sound in the room but the
scratch-scratch
of someone’s long fingernails on damask cushions.
She heard footsteps coming from behind. Jason cried, ‘Lord, that is the chief of the murderers! Mansur Khan!’
She bowed her head in pain. She wanted Jason to have this kind of simple, foolish trust--but how bitter must be the taste of these endless draughts of disillusion! She had allowed him to come to the Rawan, believing he would find justice here--and the Rawan was the master, or at least the accomplice, of Mansur’s murderous gang.
She heard Jason’s sharp intake of breath and his whispered ‘No!’ as he realized the truth. The Rawan was saying, ‘Mansur, this woman has shown me proof that you kept back another brooch, such as this that I am wearing. And also ten thousand rupees in gold bars.’
‘Ten thousand rupees!’ Mansur exclaimed nervously. ‘Lord, there was no such sum. We took no gold at all.’
‘And the brooch?’ the Rawan said.
‘Only the one, lord.’
The Rawan said, ‘Give him the red-hot iron.’
Mansur cried, ‘There may have been another brooch, lord. I will cause a search to be made. My men sometimes hide things from me, in spite of their oath. I will go and search all their belongings.’
‘Bring me the brooch and the ten thousand rupees, in gold, by dawn,’ the Rawan said.
Feet hurried out. She thought: This Rawan is as ruthless as Mansur, but cleverer--and it is he who now holds our lives in his hand. But he is greedy too.
The Rawan said, ‘For two hundred years we’ve been trying to find a way of making sure that those deceivers give us the agreed share of what they take. It is time you solved the problem.’
Catherine’s mind raced. Greedy, ruthless--greedy!
The dewan stammered, ‘W-why--yes, lord. But it is very difficult. What is to be done with the foreigners now?’
The Rawan said, ‘Kill them. Why don’t we send an officer with every band while it is in the kingdom?’
Again the soldiers were dragging her out of the room, and Jason with her. She heard Jason beginning to struggle, and the gasps of the soldiers wrestling with him. She said, ‘Lord, in my man’s waistband there is a greater treasure than any Mansur has taken.’
When the Rawan spoke she heard a thin warmth of respect in his voice. He said, ‘Show me.’
She took the folded map from its hiding-place in the top of Jason’s loincloth and held it out. The Rawan said, ‘Paper! Do you want to have a dose of the thumbscrew before you die?’ She said, ‘It is a map, lord. We are following it to find a hidden treasure.’