The Place of Dead Kings (15 page)

They trudged on through the remainder of the morning. From time to time carts appeared ahead and pulled over to allow them to pass. The hills steepened and funnelled them into a gloomy valley. Dark fir forests, blurred by curtains of rain, swirled over the slopes.

At midday, they paused for lunch and porters set up an awning for the Rajthanans on a low mound. The officers sat at a table and their Rajthanan batmen served them food. Captain Rao was silent most of the time. When he glanced at his surroundings, he crinkled his nose and pressed a handkerchief to his face, as if the landscape produced a foul odour. Lieutenant Parihar talked constantly, often waving his arms to emphasise whatever points he was making. Siddha Atri picked carefully at his food with his long fingers and from time to time gazed out at the rain-logged fields.

After lunch, they marched for half an hour before Jack spied a huddle of buildings near the road. He made out a low stone wall surrounding long wattle-and-daub structures and ten or more tents. A handful of figures moved around the compound, and further back a transport avatar crouched beside a wooden shed. The beast appeared inactive – no fire was visible within it and it sat with its legs folded beneath it and its head hanging limp.

‘Rajthanans.’ Robert lowered his voice. ‘They’re prospecting for black magic, I heard.’

‘Sattva?’ Jack said.

‘Aye. That’s what they call it. You know about it, then?’

‘A little.’ What Robert had said made sense. Jack had noticed numerous sattva streams since they’d crossed the border and no doubt the Rajthanans were keen to exploit these rich reserves.

Robert put his head closer to Jack. ‘I heard the sattva’s running out down south.’

Jack almost stopped walking. Running out? Could that happen? ‘Where’d you hear this?’

Robert drew back a little. ‘In Dun Fries. Word gets around.’

Jack swept the damp hair from his eyes. Was this true? He’d never heard of sattva running out, but perhaps it was possible. Jhala had often described sattva as a ‘fuel’. And fuel burnt as you used it. It didn’t last for ever.

As always, there seemed to be so much about sattva and yoga that he didn’t know. Jhala, supposedly his guru, had kept him in the dark, no doubt on purpose, and Jack hadn’t had enough time with Kanvar to ask all the questions he would have liked.

The countryside closed in around them. The hills rose higher and the valley narrowed. Firs swarmed up to the road and loomed over the train of men and animals. Arcades of tree trunks stretched away into the murk in all directions.

The road faded to a rough track. Carts no longer came along the path and Jack saw no sign of human habitation, save for a few roadside stone crosses decorated with Celtic designs.

At one point Robert stared into the hills and said, ‘This is as far north as I’ve ever been. We’re truly in the wilds now.’

As the light began to fade, and afternoon crawled towards evening, the trees thinned and occasionally Jack noticed tiny villages crouching in the distance. Once, he spotted a shepherd with his flock, but otherwise the Scots kept themselves hidden. No doubt they would be wary of the army, which would be a strange sight so far north of the border.

The rain eased and finally two Saxon horn blowers blasted the command to halt. The column trundled into a meadow and the porters began unloading the carts.

‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Robert said to Jack. ‘We’re off to buy sheep.’ He opened a satchel to reveal about twenty boxes of matches. ‘Hard to get these around here.’

Jack watched Robert and a couple of other porters stride towards a distant hamlet. Then he turned back to the wagon, where the statue was still covered and bound by chains. ‘Right. Let’s get that off.’

Jack and his men struggled, swore, strained and sweated, and finally unloaded the statue. They heaved it over to the edge of the camp and thumped it down in the grass. The figure brooded in the twilight and gazed into the distance. Campfires sent dull gleams dancing across its surface.

With that task complete, Jack and the others helped to set up the Rajthanans’ tents. Jack and Saleem carried a writing desk into Captain Rao’s two-storey marquee. Saleem gasped at the lavish interior, and even Jack, who was used to Rajthanan opulence, was surprised at the luxury on display. A rug decorated with intricate designs covered the floor, paintings depicting battles and hunting scenes hung on the walls and ornate oil lanterns swung from the roof. Cane and mahogany furniture dotted the chamber: chairs, side tables, cabinets and display cases. A brocaded curtain on the far side of the room hung slightly open to reveal further chambers deeper within and a set of wooden stairs led to the upper level.

A Rajthanan batman ordered them to place the desk in a corner. Then, as they left the marquee, a cry went up on the far side of the camp.

Saleem frowned. ‘What was that?’

Jack touched the satchel hanging at his side and felt the pistol press against his hip. It was good to know he had a weapon, but there was no time to load it now.

He heard further shouts. ‘Come on. Let’s take a look.’

They jogged around the outskirts of the camp, dodging the guy ropes of the tents, and came to a stretch of open ground. A flock of sheep milled about on the grass, along with a dozen small black cattle.

Robert and the two porters who’d been sent to find food stood beside the animals, while Rao, Lieutenant Parihar, Wulfric and several Saxon soldiers stood nearby. Further soldiers and porters were arriving, forming a small crowd.

Rao pointed at the cattle and shouted, his voice high-pitched and cracking, ‘I won’t have it!’

‘We bought them with our own matches, sir,’ Robert said. ‘They were for us to eat. We didn’t steal them.’

‘I don’t care who you bought them for, you pink imbecile. They’re sacred. I won’t have beef eaten in my camp. Not by anyone.’ Rao spoke English well, despite his strong accent.

‘Sorry, sir,’ Robert said. ‘We didn’t know.’

‘He’s insulting you.’ Parihar put his hands on his hips. ‘Look at his eyes.’

‘You’re right.’ Rao glared at Robert. ‘Insolence.’

Robert frowned. ‘Sir?’

‘Challenging me, are you?’ Rao’s voice came out shrill. He turned to Wulfric. ‘Arrest them, Sergeant. They shall be flogged.’

Jack had seen enough. He knew exactly what the problem was – he’d seen this scene played out many times before.

He pushed his way through the gathering. ‘Wait.’

Rao looked at Jack and mouthed words silently, as if so shocked he couldn’t think what to say.

Parihar’s face darkened ‘What did you say, boy?’

Wulfric strode towards Jack, his face clenched like a fist.

But Jack held up his hand and spoke to Rao, ‘Sir, there’s been a misunderstanding. It’s our custom to look our superiors in the eye.’

Rao frowned. ‘What?’

‘We Europeans look at our superiors. At least, a bit. This man isn’t insulting you. He thinks if he looks away you’ll think he’s lying.’

Jack had had to explain this many times to new arrivals from Rajthana. When he’d been a sergeant he’d often had to instruct the young subalterns sent to the regiment.

‘Scum.’ Wulfric grasped Jack’s tunic. ‘You’ll be flogged for—’

‘He’s right.’ Siddha Atri slipped out of the shadows, stroking his beard with a spidery finger.

‘Look, Atri,’ Parihar snapped in Rajthani. ‘Rao’s in command—’

‘Wait.’ Rao raised his hand to silence Parihar, then spoke to Atri in Rajthani. ‘Is this true?’

‘Indeed.’ Atri gave a vague smile. ‘European soldiers learn not to meet their officers’ gazes. But this man probably didn’t know.’

Rao’s jaw worked for a moment and his eyes flickered from Jack to the cattle. Finally, he turned to Robert and said in English, ‘Very well. There’ll be no flogging. But I won’t have beef eaten in this camp.’

‘That’s understood now, sir,’ Robert said.

Wulfric grunted and released Jack’s tunic.

‘But if it happens again you
will
be flogged.’ Rao crinkled his nose and held his handkerchief to his face. ‘Now get these animals away from the camp. The smell is abominable.’

‘You want some beef?’ the cook asked as he lifted the lid of the three-legged pot standing in the campfire.

‘What?’ Robert looked up, his jaw dropping. Then he noticed the glint in the cook’s eye and a smile slid across his lips. ‘I should pop you one for that.’

Everyone around the fire snorted with laughter. Jack chuckled softly, along with Andrew and the rest of the men from Shropshire. Saleem was the only one who was silent – he sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, staring into the flames as if transfixed.

‘Cheer up, Sultan.’ Robert slapped Saleem on the back. ‘It was only a joke.’

Saleem smiled feebly. Robert had taken to calling him ‘Sultan’ as he was the sole Mohammedan amongst the porters, but Saleem didn’t seem to mind.

At Rao’s command, the cattle had been driven back to the village. Robert had then invited Jack and his men to share a meal with him and his work gang.

‘Sorry, everyone,’ the cook said. ‘It’s pottage. No beef. No pork neither.’

As the cook spooned the stew into bowls, Robert leant closer to Jack and said, ‘Thank you for before, wee man. Thought I was in for a beating.’

‘No need to thank me.’

‘You seem to understand these Rajthanans.’

‘A bit.’

‘I can’t make head or tail of them. No beef. And that statue.’

‘They’re a strange lot, that’s for sure.’

Jack heard a snarl behind him. He turned to see Wulfric staggering from the darkness and into the firelight. The Sergeant swayed unsteadily and Jack caught a whiff of ale. Wulfric appeared to be drunk. This was surprising for a Mohammedan, but Jack had known many Saxons who weren’t particularly devout.

Everyone went silent and the only sound was the crackling and spitting of the fire.

Wulfric’s good eye flitted over the group, like a fly searching for a place to land. His bad eye shifted beneath its heavy eyelid and the scar on his cheek glowed white. Finally, his gaze rested on Jack. ‘Ah. There you are.’

He took a few uncertain steps forward. ‘Hiding here, are you, scum? Well, I’ve found you.’ He sniffed the air. ‘Old Wulfric can always smell them. Old Wulfric will always find them.’

‘Just eating our dinner, sir,’ Jack said. How was he going to defuse this situation?

‘Dinner, eh?’ Wulfric stumbled to the fire, lifted his leg and smashed his foot into the pot, almost falling backwards in the process. The pot toppled into the fire, the pottage spilling out and hissing amongst the embers. Sparks flickered in the dark.

‘I’m warning you.’ Wulfric swung his arm to take in the whole group sitting about the fire. ‘Old Wulfric is watching you.’ He turned to Jack, blinking and trying to focus. ‘Old Wulfric is watching you too. I won’t have some English filth causing trouble. No, I won’t have you meddling.’

Jack stared back at Wulfric. His satchel sat next to him, but the pistol was still unloaded.

Wulfric bent his knees and leant in close so that Jack could smell the ale on his breath. ‘Old Wulfric will have you one of these days.’

Jack’s heart beat harder. What would Wulfric do next?

Then the Sergeant lurched upright again, gave the fallen pot a final kick and stumbled away into the darkness, muttering unintelligibly to himself.

They marched for eight days, passing through the valley and then heading north across the open plains and rolling countryside beyond. The air grew colder, but there was little rain and at times a pale sun blinked through gaps in the cloud.

The native Scots continued to avoid the party, although Jack often saw them in the distance: men out hunting with dogs, women walking across fields with pots of water on their heads and children hiding and watching from behind patches of gorse. The villages at first appeared little different from those in England. But after the first two days, they changed. The huts became small and often circular, with dry-stone walls and roofs covered in green turf. The surrounding fields consisted of narrow ridges that rippled like water across the hillsides.

As the days wore on, the party settled into a routine. In the morning, a horn blower would sound the call to wake. The Rajthanans would perform their ritual – their puja – sitting cross-legged before the Ganesh statue. The Saxons – joined by Saleem – would pray in unison. And the porters would pack away the Rajthanans’ tents. Jack and his men would heave the statue on to the back of the wagon. Then the party would march for hours, stopping only occasionally to rest and water the animals. At midday, the batmen would serve lunch to the officers as they sat under the awning. After that, the column would set off once again and they would travel until dusk. Some of the porters would then wash themselves as best they could, don white livery and act as servants for the Rajthanans. Others were paid by the Saxons to cook dinner. Jack and his men would unload the statue and place it on the edge of the camp, as if to keep watch overnight.