Tiger's Promise

by Colleen Houck

  At this my father glanced down at me, his eyes glittering like sharp daggers. He had long ago insisted that I keep myself veiled when in public, and I always had. The king had never had an opportunity to see my face. At least I didn’t believe he could have. The only place I went without a veil was within my own chamber.

  “I must confess, my friend”—the king clapped my father on the back—“I was passing your home and saw your young daughter at the open window, her face aglow with moonlight. I was captivated by her exquisite face.”

  My heart sank. I was usually so careful to hide myself from the outside world, but when the moon was full a few months ago, I hadn’t been able to sleep. It was hot and I crept to my window, allowing the sweet breeze and the cool light of the full moon to bathe my overwarm skin. That was when the king must’ve seen me.

  Now, thanks to the king’s confession, I would be moved. There would be no more flowers because there would be no more windows. Isha and I would be housed in a walled-up dungeon of a space without light, without air, without even a glimpse of the outside world.

  Dejected, I lent only half an ear to the king. “Though I am an old man,” he said, “even I was struck by her great beauty. My military advisor has kept her all to himself over the years, but to hide such a treasure from the world is a disservice. So tonight my gift to you is to allow all of you to partake in the splendor of my palace, enjoy the succulent fruits of my garden, and bask in the perfection of our women.”

  I didn’t know what the king was going to do until he was at my back. Clumsily, he tugged at my veil, pulling it away from my face. The pins were wrenched painfully from my hair, and several long, black strands fell away with the golden veil. I felt naked and exposed, but I stood tall, knowing instinctively that cowering would not be the proper thing to do.

  For some reason, my father had allowed this to happen. Maybe it was to teach me a lesson or to put me in my place. Whatever the reason, I felt the inherent need to protect myself, and protection, when it came to my father, meant one thing only. So, I lifted my shoulders, schooled my expression, and lowered my eyes.

  The king put his hand beneath my chin and lifted my head. “Let them all see you, my dear.”

  I gave him a polite smile and looked around at the people staring up at me. There were a few audible gasps, several leering men, and a few women who looked at me with marked jealousy. Others gave me pitying glances or looked me up and down in a cold, calculating way, but whatever the response from each person, there appeared to be not one soul in the room who was not staring at me.

  But then I found one. A single man stood in the back studying the statue of the goddess Durga. He had filled a plate and had his back turned to us as he ate, seemingly entirely uninterested in the king’s announcement.

  The man was young, perhaps only a few years older than myself. He wore a dark coat trimmed in gold that accented his powerful shoulders and narrow waist. His thick, shoulder-length hair curled at the ends, and I was surprised to find that I wanted to see his face. Why would a man come to the celebration and not want to be a part of it? Perhaps he had no interest in taking a bride. When he touched the exact same spot on the goddess’s hand that I had earlier, my curiosity was sparked. Who was he?

  “There now. Did I not tell you she was beautiful?” the king asked openly.

  “Breathtaking,” one leering man nearby murmured as he gave me a suggestive smile.

  “Quite lovely,” an older man added as he came forward and introduced himself to my father and reacquainted himself with the king. The older man seemed kind. Perhaps he was offering himself as a groom.

  I’d never allowed myself to entertain the possibility that I would have a chance to wed someone young and handsome—a man who I could love and come to trust. For my purposes, an older man might be the better choice. It would likely be an easier arrangement to escape from. When the older gentleman looked my way, I gave him a shy smile.

  My father was busy and didn’t see, but Hajari did, and I knew there would be a reckoning later, but perhaps salvation could be bought with a few careful smiles and some feigned interest. When the king formally introduced me to the old sultan, I bravely asked if perhaps he might share a plate of food with me.

  He was delighted and offered his arm to escort me to the buffet tables. The king looked on proudly. I didn’t dare look at my father. Unfortunately my escort followed closely behind.

  “Don’t mind my guard, Hajari,” I said. “My father dotes on me and ensures my safety.”

  “Of course. I understand,” the well-dressed man replied. As he filled a plate for us, he asked, “Do you think you might enjoy living by the sea?”

  “Do you live in Mumbai?” I asked attentively.

  “No. I live in Mahabalipuram. Do you know of my city?”

  “I confess I do not.”

  “Our city is bustling with a busy port. We trade with many far-off lands, and we have several artisans and sculptors who make our temples and shrines beautiful. Perhaps you would consider a visit.”

  “She would not wish to live in a city of coarse sailors, Devanand. She belongs in a city of beauty. Allow me to introduce myself, my lovely. My name is Vikram Pillai.”

  “Bah, you are a merchant! Your title is purchased. My blood is royal!”

  “Your blood is old. She needs a groom who can walk without assistance.”

  “How dare you! Please disregard his outbursts, my dear. A young girl as innocent and as fresh as you are should not be subjected to such inappropriate disturbances.”

  “Her youth is the issue at hand. I am a much better match. And I can offer wealth. There is no one else with more profitable trade caravans.”

  “You might have more wealth at your disposal, but you forget that I have a fleet. An alliance with my kingdom would be a much wiser decision.”

  “We’ll see about that!”

  “Yes. Indeed we shall!”

  The younger man with a droopy mustache left us alone, and I felt grateful, but he wasn’t the first interruption or the last. A circle of men had surrounded us, each one clamoring for attention and offering his wealth, his lands, his titles, or, in some cases, his person, in exchange for my hand in marriage. It was overwhelming. What little I’d been able to pluck from our shared plate soon turned to ash in my mouth. A hand latched on to my arm and tugged me not too gently from the circle of men.

  “Gentlemen, my daughter will return momentarily. Please allow me a moment to speak with her in private.”

  My father’s grip on my arm was absolute, and there was a strange expression on his face. There was no doubt he was irritated by the whole situation and found the pawing men distasteful. At the same time, there was something behind his eyes, an unexplained delight that made my blood run cold.

  He nodded to a passerby and waited for us to be alone, then said quietly, “The king has graciously”—his words dripped with sarcasm—“invited us to stay the night. You will retire to the women’s wing. As soon as the king says his good-nights to his guests, Hajari will escort you as far as the outer doors. You will behave yourself with the proper decorum I expect, and in the morning, I will summon you. If I discover anything, anything at all, in your behavior to be what I would consider inappropriate or not to my liking, Isha will suffer horribly. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good. Now cover your face. The men here have ogled you enough tonight, I should think.”

  “Of course.”

  Immediately I worked at reattaching my veil, and when it was done to his satisfaction, he left me alone again with Hajari, who whispered hotly at my ear, “You think this is your chance to leave, but you aren’t going anywhere. I see you strutting around like you’re the king’s prize when we both know you’re nothing but a plaything. A broken little doll.”

  Hajari risked running his hand up my arm. I stiffened but said nothing. “You see, I know what all these other men don’t. That you like being knocked around, and som
eday when your father isn’t watching as carefully, I’ll show you the proper way to play.”

  Fortunately, another suitor appeared at that moment and Hajari backed away. The rest of the evening, I was kept busy being escorted on the arm of various men, each attempting to coax my favor in one way or another despite the fact that we all knew the decision rested with the king and my father and not with me. Had I been able to choose, I would likely go with Devanand. The idea that Isha and I could disappear on a ship to a faraway land was appealing.

  Through the night, I caught glimpses of the quiet stranger as he wandered the hall. There was no doubt he was a warrior. His powerful build and the way he carried himself made it obvious. Once a servant carrying a tray of sliced fruit stumbled, and he not only caught it but he helped the woman right herself. At that moment, he turned and I sucked in a breath. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.

  On the arm of Devanand again, I asked carefully, “Who is that young man? The one there dressed in black?”

  “Where?”

  “The one talking with Vikram Pillai,” I murmured quietly.

  “Oh, that’s the younger Rajaram son.”

  “Rajaram?” I prompted.

  “Yes. His brother is heir to the throne so he wouldn’t be a good match for you, if that is what you’re thinking. I am not surprised you asked about him though. He is young, and I would think a girl such as yourself would find him attractive.”

  I quickly patted the Mahabalipuram king’s arm and reassured him. “Not at all. I simply haven’t been introduced to him yet.”

  “It is unlikely he will wed before his brother. Perhaps he is here to negotiate a match in his stead.”

  “It has not come up. Besides, being as young as I am, it might behoove me to be matched with someone with more experience. An older man can help me navigate the troubled waters of youth. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  He laughed, pleased with my reference to his city, and introduced me to some other men he considered allies.

  Finally, the festivities were concluded, and those staying at the palace were escorted to their various chambers to take their rest. Hajari and I trailed behind a servant girl who led us down a series of long halls. It was late and the full moon cast its mellow light over us as we walked. Every few feet, an open archway allowed the soft night breezes to ruffle my skirts.

  When we arrived at an elaborately carved double door, the servant bowed and opened it, indicating I should enter. Hajari narrowed his eyes in warning but said nothing. After the doors closed behind me, shutting out the sight of my father’s man, I breathed a sigh of relief and followed the servant.

  She led me to a spacious chamber with a huge bed. A bath had been drawn, and she stayed long enough to help me. A sleeping gown had been left for me, and after I was made comfortable, the servant departed. I was alone. Truly alone. I didn’t know what would happen to me when the sun came up the next morning, but for the moment, I was out of danger.

  Unable to sleep though I was exhausted, I rose from my bed and walked out to the balcony. The moon had sunk farther, but I guessed only an hour had passed since I retired. The soft breeze carried the scent of jasmine, and I heard the unmistakable sound of water. A series of steps led upward from my balcony, and I suddenly realized that the king’s hanging garden might be just a few steps away.

  Glancing around, I willed myself invisible and, with the moon lighting my way, stepped, hidden, into the night.

  Three

  Blush

  Following the sound of the water, I crept silently up the stairs. Guards were posted on the parapets, but they didn’t even glance in my direction. The grit under my feet and the breeze on my bare skin made me feel alive. My pulse quickened as I ascended to the level of the guards. With a little exploration, I found another set of stairs not too far from where the first set ended. On the side of the stairwell, a small waterfall tumbled down the wall from overhead. I knew it must be coming from the hanging garden so I climbed higher.

  Now three levels above the sleeping chamber I’d been assigned to, I paused at a wide balcony and looked out over the moonlit city. Most of the lamps had been snuffed out for the evening, but there was enough light remaining from torches, fires, and candles around the buildings in the city that the dark structures below looked like they were lit with fireflies. As beautiful a view as it was, I was after something else.

  Quietly making my way around the corridor, I found no other set of stairs. Instead there were several doors. Nervous about testing them, I placed my hand on each and listened quietly before opening them. The first had stairs leading down. The second held various weapons—arrows, bows, shields, and spears. The third door was the heaviest and opened with a loud creak. I froze, hoping no one heard.

  When there was no telltale sign of heavy boots headed my way, I slipped inside the darkened doorway and found another set of stairs going up. I hesitated, thinking I might lose my way back, but my desire to see the garden pulled me forward, and I went up one step and another until I emerged at the end of a tunnel. Moonlight and the smell of water and green living things beckoned me forward.

  I rushed ahead and stepped through an open archway into paradise. During the day, the gardens must have been breathtaking, but at night, lit only by stars and moonbeams, the garden was magical. Each dark alcove whispered of secrets waiting for me to discover them.

  Rumors were that the king had wooed his late bride on the manicured paths while walking among the murmuring foliage. It was easy to picture a courting couple wandering beneath the trees, taking advantage of the enchanting concealment they offered.

  Moving deeper into the garden, I noted the thick stone pillars supported tier after tier of greenery that rose above me in steps like a theater. On the left was a multi-leveled terrace threaded through with delicate little vines. On the right was a gallery of living art with arched doorways leading down to other levels.

  On each echelon, there were carved statues, trickling fountains, towers of hanging plants, and even living sculptures made of greenery. Though there were no torches to offer light, the rays of the moon penetrated the leafy canopy well enough that I could notice nearly every detail.

  A stone walkway appeared to circumnavigate the entire garden. Around it was recently turned soil, dark and nutrient-rich. Crouching down, I pressed my hand into the soft stuff. I couldn’t find the stone floor that would support such a weight, but judging from the size of the trees, the largest of which had trunks wider than I was tall, the ceiling holding the garden must be very thick indeed, perhaps twenty feet or more.

  In the center of the garden was a massive fountain of such magnificence I spent the better part of an hour running my hands over the carved figures and through the water. Curious, I followed the path of the streams. It appeared that a series of aqueducts brought water to the roof of the citadel using dozens of cisterns that carried the water up from the river.

  All the levels were built at a slight angle, which allowed the water to flow downhill, irrigating the entire garden. What wasn’t used in the garden was directed back to the river when it spilled over the side of the building in a waterfall. The design was genius.

  Huge shade trees soared high above the building walls, and it gave me the sense of being at the top of a very great mountain. I examined the tender new growth of tiny plants wet with evening dew, plucked a tiny budding flower and tucked it behind my ear, and admired a section of new plantings the garden cultivator had just put in.

  The warm night breeze lifted the leaves on the trees, making them dance and sigh as if they were alive. The sound of it teased my senses. I walked through a multi-level maze only to emerge in a grove of perfect fruit trees full of ripening spheres of all descriptions.

  Beyond that was a small, evergreen meadow—the lush grass a perfect place for taking a picnic lunch. How romantic it would be to dine there under the shadow of a tree with the murmuring of the fountain and the view of the city. I lay on the grass with my hand
s behind my head and stared up at the countless constellations filling the night sky, thinking that if I was incredibly lucky, I might be soon looking at the same view from the deck of a ship taking me and Isha to another land.

  Wanting to explore more, I left the soft blades of grass and continued on. Flowers seemed to spring from every spare patch of ground. I plucked an orange marigold and tossed it into the stream of water, laughing softly as I followed it. The small flower danced and bobbed until I came to the edge of the garden where it tumbled over the wall and disappeared.

  This part of the garden was on level with the circuit wall, and I had a clear view of the citadel’s battlements and the soldiers who stood on guard. Not wanting to leave but knowing I should make my way back to my bed, I slowly wound up the levels, taking in every sight, scent, and sound. Reluctant to continue on, I stopped at the central fountain once again and discovered a water plant I’d never seen before.

  It looked like a lotus blossom, but instead of the common pink or white color, the flower had lavender hues. It was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen. Tempted to pluck it from the water yet knowing if my father found it in my room he’d know what I’d been up to, I instead examined it from all angles, committing it to memory.

  So intent was I in my study that I didn’t hear footsteps until the person approaching was almost directly behind me. I froze and looked down at my arm, letting out a little sigh of relief that I was still invisible. Still, the person came closer and only stopped just short of running into me. Biting my lip, I took a careful step away, wincing as my foot knocked a small pebble.

  Quickly looking up, I found myself staring into the golden eyes of the man I’d noticed earlier at the party, the one seemingly disinterested in the king’s announcement regarding my eligibility for marriage. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the place where the small stone had rolled, and then he scanned the trees surrounding us. After a moment, he let out a small sigh and placed both hands on the rim of the fountain.