Far Pavilions (14 page)

It had started over Anjuli; though that had been a very minor irritation, for she was only a silly baby and a plain one at that. Had she been a pretty or engaging child he might have regarded her as a rival for his father's affections and hated her – as he hated the
Nautch
-girl and the
Nautch
-girls eldest son, his half-brother, Nandu – but as it was, he remembered the
Feringhi
-Rani's kindness to him, and repaid it by being kind to her daughter and tacitly confirming Ashok in the role of unofficial mentor, bear-leader and protector to that small unripe mango, ‘Kairi-Bai’. But he had been displeased when one of his equerries, Hira Lal, had taken a liking to the boy, and even more displeased when Koda Dad Khan, who was something of a legend to the young bloods of the palace, had done the same thing. For Koda Dad had the ear of the Rajah and he had spoken well of the boy.

The ruler of Gulkote was a large, lethargic man whose excessive fondness for wine, women and opium had drained him of strength and given him, in his early fifties, the appearance of a much older man. He was fond of his eldest son, and would have been shocked beyond words at the very idea that anyone could wish to harm his heir, and unhesitatingly condemned to death even the
Nautch
-girl herself had it been proved to him that she had attempted to take the boy's life. But increasing age and weight had made him dislike trouble, and he had discovered that, whenever he paid any attention to Lalji, trouble with the fascinating Janoo-Bai invariably followed. Wherefore in the interests of peace he saw very little of his eldest son, and Lalji, who loved his father with a burning, jealous love, resented the neglect bitterly, as he resented, too, any word spoken to anyone else during his father's all too brief visits.

The Rajah had only spoken to Ash because Koda Dad had remarked that the boy might be worth training, and also because he seemed to remember something about his having once saved Lalji's life, which entitled him to a little attention. For these reasons he had been gracious to Ash, and would sometimes order his attendance when he rode out to try a new falcon on the game-birds that abounded on the flat lands of the plateau. On these occasions Lalji would sulk and scowl and later take some petty and spiteful revenge, such as keeping Ash in attendance on him for hours on end without allowing him to eat or drink or sit until he was dizzy with fatigue, or, more viciously, driving him to rage by some senseless act of cruelty to one of the pet animals in order to have him beaten for the resulting explosion.

Lalji's courtiers, taking their cue from their master, did their best to make life difficult for the upstart horse-boy whose sudden elevation they had always resented, the sole exception to this being Hira Lal, whose duties were vaguely defined as ‘Equerry to the Yuveraj’.

Of them all, Hira Lal was the only one who showed Ash any kindness, and he alone never applauded Biju Ram's sadistic foolery or laughed at his prurient jokes. He would yawn instead and toy with the black pearl that dangled from his right ear, fingering it with an abstracted air that somehow managed to convey a blend of boredom, resignation and distaste. The gesture itself was no more than a habit with him, but on such occasions it never failed to infuriate Biju Ram, who suspected (rightly) that the great pearl was worn in deliberate parody of the single earring that he himself affected, and that its rarity – the jewel was the exact shape of a pear and had the subtle, smoky iridescence of a pigeon's feather – only served to make his own diamond-drop look flashy and meretricious by contrast; in the same way as the equerry's sober grey silk
achkans
had a way of making his own more colourful coats appear vulgar and not too well cut.

Hira Lal never seemed to do any work and always appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep, but his lazy-lidded eyes were not nearly as unobservant as they looked, and very little escaped them. He was a good-natured and easy-going man, with a reputation for idleness that was a joke in the palace and gave him something of the standing of a court jester whose utterances need not be taken seriously. ‘Do not let them worry you, boy,’ he would encourage Ash. ‘They are bored, poor mud-heads, and for lack of other amusement must cast about for some creature to torment. To witness another's discomfiture makes them feel more important themselves, even if that someone is only a child or a tame gazelle. If you do not let them see that you care, they will tire of the sport soon enough. Is that not so,
Bichchhu-ji
?’

His use of the nickname was an added insult, and Biju Ram would glare at him from eyes that were narrow slits of fury, while the others would scowl and mutter. But Lalji would pretend not to have heard, for he knew that he could not punish or dismiss Hira Lal, who had been appointed to his service by the Rajah himself (at the instigation, Lalji sometimes suspected, of his hated step-mother, the
Nautch
-girl) so that it was better, on such occasions, to feign deafness. And there was no denying that, spy or no spy, the equerry could be both witty and entertaining; he could crack jokes and invent foolish games that made one laugh on even the dullest day, and life would be a good deal less amusing without him.

Ash too was grateful to Hira Lal, and profited from his advice, which he discovered to be sound. He learned to conceal his emotions and to accept punishment stoically. But although he could in time give a convincing impression of indifference, his emotions were still there, unchanged, and all the stronger because having no outlet they must remain hidden and go deeper. Yet it was Hira Lal who made him see that Lalji should be pitied and not disliked, and how infinitely superior his own position was to that of the angry, bewildered little prince.

‘When he oppresses you, it is only to revenge himself for the lack of love that he needs and is not given,’ said Hira Lal. ‘If he had never had love it would matter less, for many grow up without it and do not know what they have missed. But having had it he has learned what it is to lose it. And it is this that makes him unhappy. When he has teased and tormented you and had you unjustly punished, you can run to your mother who will console you and weep over your wounds. But there is no one to whom he can run except that old witch of a nurse, Dunmaya, who does nothing but croak warnings and make him frightened of his own shadow. Be patient with him, Ashok, for you are more fortunate than he.’

Ash strove for patience, though it was uphill work. But a clearer understanding of the heir's predicament undoubtedly helped, and for this he was grateful to Hira Lal.

Lalji was married the following year and enmities were forgotten in the bustle and preparation and festivity. The vast, somnolent palace came alive and hummed like a beehive as painters and decorators swarmed in with their buckets of lime wash and colour, and walls, ceilings and archways that were dusty from neglect received coats of bright paint and gilding. The
Nautch
-girl, predictably jealous of all the attention bestowed upon her step-son, had alternately sulked and made scenes, and the bride's relatives had created considerable uproar on the very eve of the wedding by suddenly demanding double the previously agreed bride-price, which had so incensed the groom's father that he had come within an ace of calling the whole thing off. But as this would have brought great shame on all concerned, a compromise had been reached after hours of argument, cajolery and hard bargaining, and the preparations had gone forward.

The bride was the eight-year-old daughter of a small hill Rajah, and after the wedding she would return to her parents until she was old enough for the marriage to be consummated; though this made no difference to the lengthy and elaborate ceremonies. It was a long and tedious business and it cost the Rajah a great deal of money that could have been put to better use alleviating the poverty of his subjects or improving the roads in Gulkote – not that such an idea even crossed the mind of either ruler or subjects, and if it had it would have been unanimously rejected by both in favour of the jollity and entertainment offered by a really lavish wedding.

All Gulkote enjoyed the spectacle and relished the gifts of food and money distributed to the poor, and the sight of so much magnificence. Fireworks, bands, processions by torch-light to the city temple, prancing horsemen and plodding elephants draped in glittering brocade and carrying silver howdahs full of bejewelled guests, enthralled the citizens and drained the treasury. Which troubled the Rajah not a whit, though it angered the
Nautch
-girl, who complained that it was all a great waste of money, and was only placated with a gift of rubies and diamonds from the state regalia.

5

Ash enjoyed the wedding festivities as much as anyone, and for the first time in her short life, the four-year-old Kairi was ordered to take part, as a Princess of Gulkote, in an official ceremony.

As the sister of the Yuveraj, it was her privilege to present the first gifts to the bride; and she had done so dressed in unfamiliar finery and decked with resplendent jewels that had at first delighted her by their colour and glitter, and then tired her by their weight and the way their sharp edges scratched. But as her sole ornament hitherto had been a small mother-of-pearl fish that she wore on a string about her neck as a ‘luck-piece’ (it had belonged to her mother and once been part of a set of Chinese counters) she had greatly enjoyed the dignity they lent her. It was nice to feel important for once, and she had revelled in that and performed her duties with becoming seriousness.

The ceremonies and festivity had continued for over a week, and when at last they were over and bride and guests had returned to their own homes, Kairi's borrowed finery was whisked away from her and returned to one of the numerous chests that filled the Rajah's treasury, and only tattered decorations, fading wreaths and a smell of stale incense and decaying flowers remained to show that the great occasion had come and gone. The Hawa Mahal and its Rajah relapsed into lethargy, and Janoo-Bai the Rani set about planning far more spectacular alliances for her own small sons.

As for Lalji, now that all the excitement was over he found that the dignity of his married state added nothing to his importance, and that for all the difference it had made to life he might just as well have done without those long, tiring ceremonies. He thought his wife was a stupid little thing and not particularly pretty, and could only hope that she would grow up to look more attractive. Dunmaya said she would; but then Dunmaya would say anything to please him. With the departure of the wedding guests his father had lost interest in him, and once again time hung heavy on his hands and he felt crosser and unhappier than ever. Wherefore he quarrelled with his suite and made life so miserable for Ash that it was some time during those dismal months, in the flat aftermath of the wedding, that Ash for the first time discussed with Sita the possibility of their leaving Gulkote.

Sita had been aghast at the idea. Not on her own account, for she would have sacrificed anything for his sake; but because she did not believe that he would be better off anywhere else, or that his present mood was anything more than a boy's natural reaction to the churlish behaviour of the Yuveraj, which would pass. Sita was fully aware of the Yuveraj's problems; there were few secrets in the palace, and though it angered her that he should vent his spleen on her beloved son, she, like Hira Lal, could not help feeling a certain sympathy for the motherless, neglected heir whose father was too idle to champion him and whose step-mother prayed for his early death. His fits of ill-temper and sporadic outbursts of cruelty were surely no more than could be expected of a boy caught in such an intolerable web of circumstances, and Ashok must learn to bear with them and try to forgive them. Besides, it was certain that the Yuveraj would never willingly allow him to leave, and he must not even think of running away; it would be impossible, and even if he should succeed, where could they go? Where else could they live in such comfort and security as here, in a Rajah's palace and enjoying the salary and status of royal servants?

‘Do they pay you then, mother?’ inquired Ash bitterly. ‘Me, they do not – though it was promised me. Oh, I am given food and clothing. But never money. And if I ask for it they say, “Later. Another time. Next month.” I have not so much as a
pice
to give or spend.’

‘But
piara
, we are both fed and clothed,’ urged Sita. ‘And we have a roof over our heads and a fire to warm ourselves by. Besides, do not forget that the Yuveraj will one day be Rajah, and then you will be rewarded and stand high in his favour. He is only a boy, Ashok, a young, unhappy boy. That is why he is sometimes unjust. But when he is grown he will be wiser. You will see. You have only to be patient and wait a little longer.’

‘How much longer? A year? Two years? Three? Oh, mother -!’

‘I know, my son. I know. But I – I am not as young as I was, and…’

She did not finish the sentence, but Ash looked at her sharply and noticed for the first time, with a curious little stab of fear, that she seemed to have become much thinner of late and that the sprinkling of grey hairs that had grown more noticeable with each year now outnumbered the dark, so that her head was nearer silver than black. She looked tired too, and he wondered if they made her work too hard in Kairi's wing of the palace. He must talk to Kairi and tell her that his mother must not be worried or overworked. Yet it was he who was worrying her now, and realizing it, he flung his arms about her and hugged her in a sudden spasm of remorse, telling her that of course they would stay – he had only been teasing her, and as long as she was happy here they would remain in the Hawa Mahal.