Part 9 (1/2)
”What? Cook for the child?” The eunuch swung around. ”Are you mad?”
Neeloo spread his hands. ”The child is valuable to the Maharajah. He must be delivered to the camp alive.”
The eunuch paced, muttering to himself, while they made a small fire and stirred a pot of lentils. He fumed aloud, glaring as the child opened his mouth like a baby bird's to receive his food.
”He is very hungry,” said a bearer.
”These cruelties happen over deaths and marriages,” agreed a guard, shaking his head as Neeloo tore off a child-sized morsel of flat bread and scooped up a little of the yellow mush.
But it seemed that food and drink alone would not satisfy Saboor. As soon as they started off again, wailing arose from inside the curtained box. On and on it went, wavering a little with the bouncing of the palki, pausing as the child breathed, only to begin again.
The running bearers shouted encouragement. When the cries did not stop, Neeloo and the unburdened bearers opened the palanquin's curtains and trotted alongside, arguing with the little boy's tears.
”Come, child, do not weep,” they called, putting their hands inside to pat his dirty little body. ”Look, there are so many things to see. We will open the curtain on the other side, also. There is not far to go. You will have so many things to eat at the Maharajah's camp!”
But Saboor went on wailing, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth stretched wide.
”You are making us late!” shouted the eunuch as Neeloo stopped again and lifted the child once more from the Maharajah's satin sheets. ”I order you to move!”
Neeloo did not look up. He folded Saboor onto his lap as he had done for his own children when they, too, had wept from want and misery. ”We will wait until he has ceased crying,” he declared, as he wiped Saboor's wet face with a callused hand. ”No child should be left to weep alone.”
The other men nodded their agreement.
The eunuch raged, but for all his authority, he was only one, and there were twenty-four bearers and twelve armed guards. Their backs to the eunuch, all waited by the beautiful carved palanquin until, cradled in Neeloo's arms, Saboor had sobbed himself to sleep.
Miss f.a.n.n.y rocked a little on the narrow seat as she, Miss Emily, and Mariana returned on an elephant from the parade ground. ”I must say, our troops made a stirring show this morning,” she remarked.
Miss Emily, who sat hunched over with fever beside her sister, pulled her shawls closer about her in the morning heat. ”Did you enjoy our practice review, my dear?” She peered out at Mariana from the shade of a large purple silk bonnet.
”Oh, yes,” Mariana cried, ”it was marvelous! How do you suppose they persuaded the baggage elephants to behave so well on parade?”
For her, the best part of the show had been the horse artillery, especially Lieutenant Fitzgerald on his tall gray gelding, his bra.s.s dragoon helmet fias.h.i.+ng as he led a team pulling a twenty-pound gun.
”I hope they do as well at the real review.” Miss f.a.n.n.y sighed. ”I always think I have become used to seeing our British soldiers in India; but when the Queen's Buffs marched past this morning ...” Her voice quavered.
”Yes, indeed, f.a.n.n.y,” put in Miss Emily, speaking through gently chattering teeth, ”you always weep at the sight of the Buffs. For my part, a bagpipe always fills me with excitement. At the first hint of a drone I long to s.n.a.t.c.h up a weapon and attack someone.”
Miss f.a.n.n.y tugged her bonnet lower over her eyes. ”And whom would you attack? I can only imagine myself attacking rampaging natives.”
The two ladies subsided into silence, their eyes on the horizon. Opposite them, Mariana fidgeted on her seat.
”Miss f.a.n.n.y,” she asked after a moment, ”do you really dislike the natives?”
”In a way I do, Mariana,” replied Miss f.a.n.n.y, as she took out her handkerchief. ”There is something far too too foreign about them: something mysterious and upsetting.” She pointed down at a group of dark-skinned men walking beside the elephants, wearing only dirtylooking loincloths, their hair tangled and uncombed. ”Look at those men. How can one not feel distaste?” foreign about them: something mysterious and upsetting.” She pointed down at a group of dark-skinned men walking beside the elephants, wearing only dirtylooking loincloths, their hair tangled and uncombed. ”Look at those men. How can one not feel distaste?”
She sniffed, her handkerchief to her nose.
”But not all of them are like that, surely.” The elephant s.h.i.+fted her weight, causing the open box where the ladies sat to lurch sideways, pus.h.i.+ng Mariana against the railing. ”Surely some of the natives are worthy of respect. My muns.h.i.+ says there are n.o.ble and G.o.d-fearing men of all religions in India, and-”
”Their worthiness, or lack of it, is not the point, Mariana,” Miss Emily interrupted from her corner. ”The point is that you show far too much interest in their affairs. You have been seen poking about with elephants and mahouts. You speak of helping diseased natives. I worry about that muns.h.i.+ of yours. I fear he has filled your head with unsuitable ideas.
”The only way to behave with natives,” she added, tightening her shawls, ”is to ignore them. Do not like them, do not hate them, do not fear them. Those who do pay a heavy price. Our previous lady translator, silly woman, developed a horror of natives. I am told she barricades her bedroom door at night for fear one of them will get in while she is sleeping.”
Miss f.a.n.n.y put a hand to her bonnet. ”Something happened to her, you see. People are saying she will never be the same again.”
”The lady,” said Miss Emily, ”was awakening from sleep one morning when her serving man came in with her coffee. As he put down the tray, he noticed a scorpion on the bedclothes. It was, if I am correct, crawling up the lady's person, on its way to her face.”
She turned to Mariana. ”Hill scorpions, as you know, are large, black, and very fierce.”
Mariana remembered Dittoo shaking out her riding habit. ”The sting of a scorpion,” she repeated, ”can make the strongest man scream.”
Miss Emily did not seem impressed with Mariana's knowledge. She pointed into the air with a gloved hand. ”The servant tore open the mosquito curtains, reached out with his bare hand, and swept the scorpion to the fioor, where he killed it. The lady began to shriek at the top of her voice. People rushed to her room to find her fainting with terror, but not,” she added, closing her eyes as the howdah rolled, creaking, to one side, ”from fear of scorpions.”
”From what, then?” Mariana looked eagerly from one sister to the other. This was perfect for her next letter to Papa. ”What was the lady so afraid of? Why did she faint?”
Miss Emily pressed her lips together. ”She fainted because a native man had touched her. The servant was dismissed. And the lady, since then, has been unable to be left alone for five minutes.”
”What a fool the woman must be!” Mariana exclaimed.
”Yes, she is a fool, because she gave in to fear.” Miss Emily frowned. ”Now, Mariana, you must must do as we say. Natives are very different from us, although most of the time I would not go so far as to call them 'savages' as some of our Englishmen do.” do as we say. Natives are very different from us, although most of the time I would not go so far as to call them 'savages' as some of our Englishmen do.”
Savages? Her dear old Muns.h.i.+ Sahib? Her irritating, clumsy, harmless Dittoo? Mariana opened her mouth to protest, then closed it.
”And now, my dear,” Miss Emily continued, fixing her gaze on Mariana's face, ”I understand you have taken an interest in Lieutenant Fitzgerald.”
By now, everyone must know. Mariana felt herself blush.
Yesterday, returning to their grove of trees, she and Fitzgerald had talked animatedly of the intricacies of artillery drills, of the Afghan campaign, and of his uncle's estate in Suss.e.x, not ten miles from her own village. Alone together, they had kissed again. This time he had laid a hand on her breast. She fiushed, remembering the heat of it, and the longing it had aroused in her.
”I am sorry to say that we have had a bad report of him.” Miss Emily p.r.o.nounced her words with care.
A bad report? Mariana smiled uncomprehendingly. ”Miss Emily?” ”It seems Lieutenant Fitzgerald jilted a young lady in Calcutta a year ago. He and the girl had been engaged for months when he broke it off with no explanation, leaving her to return, unmarried, to England.” Miss Emily sighed. ”He has very much blackened his name in Calcutta.” She folded her gloved hands. ”I am sorry, Mariana. I wish we had known this earlier.”
On the elephant ahead of them, Mr. Macnaghten laughed loudly at something Major Byrne had said. Mariana clutched at the howdah railing. ”Blackened his name? But Miss Emily, there must be some explanation. I cannot believe he would do such a cruel thing.”
”It seems,” Miss Emily continued, ”that he did it after meeting a second second young lady with a greater fortune. young lady with a greater fortune. She She had the sense to refuse him. Since then, he has not been received in proper society. It was his good fortune that his regiment, where he was still popular, left Calcutta soon afterward to join this camp.” had the sense to refuse him. Since then, he has not been received in proper society. It was his good fortune that his regiment, where he was still popular, left Calcutta soon afterward to join this camp.”
Miss f.a.n.n.y nodded from her corner. ”Of course it will not be long before the entire camp learns of this.”
”But Miss Emily, Miss f.a.n.n.y, we must must hear his side of the story!” hear his side of the story!”
”No, Mariana.” Miss Emily peered from the depths of her bonnet into Mariana's face. ”It is too late for explanations.” She sighed again. ”Your connection to Fitzgerald must be severed. I am sure this is painful for you now, but, in time, you will be grateful.”
In her mind's eye Mariana saw her father's grave face as he told her she was not to see her friend Jeremy again. How could this happen a second time? How could she be forbidden the only person she wanted, the only one in India whose presence gave her joy?
Miss Emily leaned forward. ”You will not need to break off the friends.h.i.+p yourself,” she added briskly. ”I shall have a word with General Cotton. Fitzgerald's commanding officer will speak to him tomorrow morning. After that, he will not approach you again, you may be sure.” She smiled kindly. ”Do not worry, my dear. There are several suitable men in this camp with spotless reputations. I am sure one of them will make you very very happy.” happy.”