CHAPTER XVI
SUNRISE FOR TWO
I
Amber found his way out of the garden without difficulty; at thedoorway an eunuch waited. The Maharana himself, perhaps in deference tothe dictates of discretion, did not reappear, and Amber had no desireto see him again. He was eager only to get away, to find a place andtime to think, and to get into communication with Labertouche.
The eunuch bowed submissively to his demand to be shown out, andsilently led him down through the echoing marble corridors andgalleries of the many-tiered palace. They took a different way fromthat by which Amber had ascended; had his life depended on it, he couldnot have found his way back to the garden of Naraini, but by accident.
As they passed through the lower court of stables he remarked the factthat the stallions were being led away to their stalls. Thecircumstances confirmed Naraini's statement; the hour of theirusefulness was ended for the day--or, rather, for the night.
The Virginian wondered dully if ever he would find himself astride oneof the superb animals. After what he had witnessed and been a part ofthere was for him no longer any circumscribing horizon to the world ofpossibility. For him the improbable no longer existed. He had met theincredible face to face and found it real.
In the cavern-like chamber at the water-level Dulla Dad had the boat inreadiness. Amber embarked, not without a sigh of relief, and theMohammedan with his double-bladed paddle drove the boat out of thesecret entrance, in an impassive silence. In the stern Amber watchedthe indefinite grey light of dawn wavering over the face of the watersand wondered ...
The boat swung in gently to the marble steps of the bund. Amber roseand stepped ashore, very tired and very much inclined to believe hewould presently wake up to a sane and normal world.
"Hazoor," the voice of Dulla Dad hailed him. He turned. "Hazoor, I wasto say that at the third hour after sunset to-night this boat will bein waiting here. You are to call me by name, and I will put in for you,hazoor."
"What's that? I don't understand.... Oh, very well."
"And I was to say further, my lord, these words: 'You shall find butone way to Kathiapur.'"
Amber shook his head, smiling. "If you don't mind getting yourselfdisliked on my account, Dulla Dad, you may take back to the author ofthat epigram this answer: 'You shall find but one way to Jehannum, andthat right speedily.' Good-morning, Dulla Dad."
"The peace of God abide always with the Heaven-born!"
With a single, strong stroke the creature of the palace sent the boatskimming far out from the bund, and, turning, headed for the palace.
Amber entered the bungalow, to find the khansamah already awake andmoving about. At the Virginian's request he shuffled off to preparecoffee--much coffee, very strong and black and hot, Amber stipulated.He needed the stimulant badly. He was sleepy and his head was in awhirl.
He sat lost in thought until the khansamah brought the decoction, thenroused and drank it as it came from the pot, without sugar, gulpingdown huge bitter mouthfuls of the scalding black fluid. But the effectthat he expected and desired was strangely long in making itself felt.He marvelled at his drowsiness, nodding and blinking over his emptycup. Out of doors the skies were hot and blue--white with forerunnersof the sun, and the world of men was stirring and making preparationagainst the business of the day; but Amber, who had a work so seriousand so instant to his hand, sat on in dreamy lethargy, musing....
The faces of two women stood out vividly against the misty formlessvoid before his eyes: the face of Naraini and that of Sophia Farrell.He looked from one to the other, stupidly contrasting them, trying todetermine which was the lovelier, until their features blurred and rantogether and the two became as one and ...
The khansamah tiptoed cautiously into the room and found the Virginiansleeping like a log, his head upon the table. His face was deeplycoloured with crimson, as if a fever burned him, and his breathing wasloud and stertorous.
Pausing, the native beckoned to one who skulked without, and the latterentering, the two laid hold of the unconscious man and bore him to thecharpoy. The second native slipped silver money into the khansamah'spalm.
"He will sleep till evening," he said. "If any come asking for him, saythat he has gone abroad, leaving no word. More than this you do notknow. The sepoys have an order to prevent all from entrance."
The khansamah touched his forehead respectfully. "It is an order.Shabash!" he muttered.
A shaft of sunlight struck in through the window and lay stark upon thesleeper's face. He did not move. The khansamah drew close the shades,and with the other left the room in semi-dusk.
II
Beneath the spreading banian, by the cistern of the goldfish, Narainiwith smouldering eyes watched Amber disappear in the wilderness ofshrubbery. He walked as a man with a set purpose, never glancing back.She laughed uneasily but waited motionless where he had left her, untilthe echo of his boot-heels on the marble slabs had ceased to ring inthe neighbouring corridor. Then, lifting a flower-like hand to hermouth, she touched her lips gently and with an air of curiosity. Theresentment in her eyes gave place to an emotion less superficial. "ByIndur and by Har!" she swore softly. "In one thing at least he is likea Rajput: he kisses as a man kisses."
She moved indolently along the walk to the rug beneath the canopy wherehe had found her, her lithe, languid, round body in its gorgeousdraperies no whit less insolent than the flaming bougainvillea whoseglowing magenta blossoms she touched with idle fingers as she passed.
The east was grey with dusk of dawn--a light that grew apace, makinggarish the illumination of the flickering, smoking, many-coloured lampsin the garden. Naraini clapped her hands. Soft footsteps sounded in thegallery and one of her handmaidens threaded the shrubbery to her side.
"The lamps, Unda," said the queen; "their light, I think, littlebecomes me. Put them out." And when this was done, she composedlyordered her pipe and threw herself lazily at length upon a pile ofkincob cushions, her posture the more careless since she knew herselfsecure from observation; the garden being private to her use.
When the tire-woman had departed, leaving at Naraini's side a smallsilver _huqa_ loaded with fine-cut Lucknow weed, a live ember ofcharcoal in the middle of the bowl, she sat up and began to smoke, herface of surpassing loveliness quaintly thoughtful as she sucked at thelittle mouthpiece of chased silver and exhaled faint clouds of aromaticvapour. From time to time she smiled pensively and put aside the tubewhile she played with the rings upon her slender, petal-like fingers;five rings there were to each hand, from the heavy thumb circlet thatmight possibly fit a man's little finger to the tiny band that was onher own, all linked together by light strands of gold radiating fromthe big, gem-encrusted boss of ruddy gold midway between her slim roundwaist and dimpled knuckles....
The tread of boots with jingling spurs sounded in the gallery, warningher. She sighed, smiled dangerously to herself, and carelessly adjustedher veil, leaving rather more than half her face bare. Salig Singhentered the garden and found his way to her, towering over her beneaththe canopy, brave in his green and tinsel uniform. She looked up with alistless hauteur that expressed her attitude toward the man.
"_Achcha_!" she said sharply. "Thou art tardy, Heaven-born. Yet have Iwaited for thee this half-hour gone, heavy with sleep though Ibe--waited to know the pleasure of my lord."
There was a mockery but faintly disguised in her tone. The Maharanaseemed to find it not unpleasant, for he smiled grimly beneath hismoustache.
"There was work to be done," he said briefly--"for the Cause. Andthou--how hast thou wrought, O Breaker of Hearts?"
The woman cast the silver mouthpiece from her and clasped her handsbehind her head. "Am I not Naraini?"
"The man is ours?"
"Mine," she corrected amiably. His face darkened with a scowl ofjealousy and she laughed in open derision. "Were I Naraini could I notdivine the heart of a man?"
"By what means?"
"What is that to thee, O Heaven-born?" She snuggled
her bodycomplacently into the luxurious pile of cushions. "If I haveaccomplished the task thou didst set for me, what concern hast thouwith the means I did employ? Thou art only Salig Singh, Maharana ofKhandawar, but I am Naraini, a free woman."
"Thou--!" Rage choked the Rajput. "Thou," he sputtered--"thou art--"
"Softly, Heaven-born, softly--lest I loose a thunderbolt for thydestruction. Is it wise to forget that Naraini holds thy fate in thehollow of her hands?" She sat forward, speaking swiftly and withmalice. "Thou art pledged to produce Har Dyal Rutton in the Hall of theBell before another sunrise, and none but Naraini knows to what aperilous resort thou art driven to redeem thy word."
"I was lied to," he argued sullenly. "A false tale was brought me--byone who hath repented of his error! If I was told that Har Dyal Ruttonwould be in India upon such-and-such a day, am I to blame that I didpromise to bring him to the Gateway?"
"And seeing that the man is dead, art thou to blame for bringing in hisplace a substitute, even so poor a changeling as this man Amber? Nay,be not angry; do I blame thee? Have I done aught but serve thee to theend thou dost desire?... Thou shouldst be grateful to me, rather thanmenace me with thine anger.... And," she added sweetly, "it were wellfor thee that thou shouldst bear always in mind my intimacy with thysecret. If thou art king, then am I more than queen, in Khandawar."
"I am not angry, Naraini," he told her humbly, "but mad with love forthee--"
"And lust, my lord, for--power," she interpolated.
"But if what thou hast said be true--"
"'Who lies to the King, is already a dead man.' Why should I trouble todeceive thee, Heaven-born? I tell thee, the man is won. The day shalldeclare it: this night will he ride with me to Kathiapur. Why didstthou not tarry to eavesdrop? Indeed thou hast lost an opportunity thatmay never a second time be thine--to learn of the wiles of woman."
"There was work to be done," he repeated. "I went to take measuresagainst thy failure."
"O thou of little faith!"
"Nay, why should I neglect proper precautions? Whether thy confidencebe justified or no, this night will Har Dyal Rutton--or one likehim--endure the Ordeal of the Gateway."
"So I have told thee," she assented equably. "He will come, becauseNaraini bids him."
"It may be so. If not, another lure shall draw him."
She started with annoyance. "The Englishwoman of the picture?"
"Have I named her?" He lifted his heavy brows in affected surprise.
"Nay, but--"
"Secret for secret," he offered: "mine for thine. Is it a bargain, OPearl of Khandawar?"
"Keep thy silly secret, then, as I will keep mine own counsel," shesaid, with assumed disdain. It was no part of wisdom, in herunderstanding, to tell him of her interview with Amber. A man'sjealousy is a potent weapon in a woman's hands, but must be wieldedwith discretion.
He was persistent: "I will back my plan against thine, Ranee."
"So be it," she said shortly. "Whichever wins, the stake is won forboth. What doth it matter?"
She rose and moved impatiently down the walk and back again, banglestinkling, jewels radiant on wrist and brow, ankle and bosom. The manwatched her with sulky eyes until she turned, then bent his head andstood glowering at the earth and twisting his moustache. She pausedbefore him, hands on hips, and raised her eyes in silent inquiry. Hepretended not to notice her. She sighed with a pretence of humilitythinly disguised. "Thy trouble, my lord?" she rallied him.
"I have wondered," he said heavily: "will he pass?"
"If not, it were well for thee to die this night, O Heaven-born."
"That was my thought."
"Thou hast little need to worry, lord." Woman-like she shifted to suithis humour. "He is a man: I answer for that, though ... he is no fool.Still, when the hour strikes, what he must, that will he endure for thesake of that which Naraini hath promised him."
"Or for another," Salig Singh growled into his beard.
"I did not hear."
"I said naught. I am distraught."
"Be of good heart," she comforted him still further. "If he doth failto survive the Ordeal--Har Dyal Rutton hath died. If he doth survive--"
"Har Dyal Rutton shall die within the hour," Salig Singh concludedgrimly. "But ... I am troubled. I cannot but ask myself continually:Were it not wiser to confess failure and abide the outcome?"
"How long wouldst thou abide the outcome, my king, after thou hadstinformed the Council of this deception to which thou hast been toowilling and ready a party?... He who misled you died a dog's death. Butthou--art thou in love with death?"
"Unless thy other name be Death, Naraini ..."
"Or if the Council should spare thee--as is unlikely? The patience ofthe Body is as the patience of Kings--scant; and its mercy is like untoits patience.... But say thou art spared: what then? How long art thouprepared to wait until the Members of the Body shall again be in suchcomplete accord as now? When again shall all Hindustan be ripe forrevolt?... _Aho!_ Thou wouldst have sweet patience in the waiting,Salig Singh!... Let matters rest as they be, my lord"--this a traceimperiously. "Leave the man to me: I stand sponsor for him until theGateway shall have received him and--and perhaps for a littleafterwards."
"Thou art right as ever." He lifted his gaze to meet hers and his eyesflamed. "I leave my life on your knees, Naraini. I love thee and ... byall the gods, thou art altogether a woman!"
"And thou ... a man, your Highness?" she countered provokingly. "Nay!"she continued, evading him with a supple squirm, "be content until thisaffair be consummated. Wait until the time when an empress shall reignover all Bharuta and thou, my lord, shall be her Minister of State."
The man's voice shook. "That hour is not far off, my queen. Thou wiltnot keep me waiting longer?"
She gave him the quick promise of her eyes. "Thou shouldst know--thouof all men, my lord.... But see!" It was necessary to distract him andshe seized hastily upon the first pretext. "The last day of the oldorder dawns ... and the dawn is crimson, my lord, as with blood!" Hersoft scarlet lips curled thirstily and showed her teeth, small, sharpand white as pearls. "I think," she added with somber conviction, "thisomen is propitious!"
She swept away from him, toward the parapet. He took a single step inpursuit and halted, following her with a glance that was at once acaress and a threat.
She paused only when she could go no further, and stood in silentwaiting.
Deep down in the valley the city was stirring from its sleep; the dulland peaceful humming of its hived hordes rose to her, pulsating in thestill air. Above the eastern ridge the sky was hot and angry, bandedwith magenta, scarlet, and cadmium, and shot with expanding shafts offierce radiance, like ribs of a fan of fire. In a long and breathlessinstant of suspense the hilltops blushed with the glare and threw downthe light to the night mists swimming in the valley, rendering themopalescent, as with a heart of flame.
With eyes half-veiled by long languorous lashes the woman threw backher head until her swelling throat was tense. She raised her arms andstretched them wide. The sun, soaring suddenly, a crimson disk abovethe ridge, seemed to strike fire from her strange, savage beauty asfrom a jewel. Bathed in its ruddy glare she seemed to embody in herfrail, slight form all that was singular to that cruel, passionate landof fire and steel. Her face became suffused, her blood leaping inresponse to the ardour of the sun.
Her parted lips moved, but the man, who had drawn near enough to hear,caught two words only.
"_Naraini!... Empress!_"
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