Perhaps he was right; perhaps we were now as safe as he could make us. Wajid’s response to the bracelet could only mean that he intended to keep faith with us and I had no real fears of the set of bravos he had sent us, whatever their appearance. But our safety could not explain Oliver’s refusal to come to the Residency, and neither could the cynical nonsense he had spoken about not fighting his compatriots’ battles. He had turned back in the direction of Hassanganj, but what could he do once he got there, with no house to live in and possibly with a hostile, or at least an intimidated populace to deal with? He must have had a better motive than wanting to view the burnt-out shell of his home by daylight, but I could not find one. Even Moti would by now be in Cawnpore, so her welfare could not have drawn him back.
I puzzled the matter over in my mind for a couple of miles, I suppose, and then, when the bearers slowed down because of some obstruction before them, I ventured to peep through the slit of the curtains and saw Toddy-Bob, a bedraggled figure in a cavalry uniform several sizes too large for him, walking by the side of my equipage with a dejected look on his face. I hissed and, when he looked up, beckoned him closer so that we could speak English without being overheard.
‘Toddy, why didn’t you return to Hassanganj with Mr Erskine?’ I asked innocently, although I knew he had remained on Mr Erskine’s order.
‘’E wouldn’t let me, miss.’
‘Oh. And Ishmial?’
‘Nor ’im neither.’
‘You mean he’s gone back to Hassanganj quite alone?’
‘Yes’m.’
So that much was determined anyway.
‘Toddy, why did he leave us?’
‘ ’E didn’t want to, I reckon, miss. ’Ad to. On account of the nipper.’
‘The nipper? Pearl?’ I looked down to make sure she was safely asleep at the foot of the palanquin.
‘No’m.’ This was one of the days on which Toddy-Bob needed to be drawn.
‘Who then?’
‘His own nipper, miss. Yasmina.’
Of course. A sense of disquietude, of shame almost, overcame me at hearing Yasmina so described. Certainly she was Oliver Erskine’s child, but I had never heard it put into words, never framed the thought consciously even in my own mind.
‘But surely … I mean, why cannot she be looked after by … by her mother? I thought they were to go to Cawnpore?’
‘Yes’m. That’s right. But her mother’s dead. Killed.’
‘Oh, Toddy, no!’
‘Yes’m! They got her right enough, the bastards. Soon as they found the ’ouse empty and you gentry gone. Must’ve known, y’see, that it was she what …’
Yes, it was she who had warned us, and I understood it all. I remembered the blistering day in the thatch of the ice-house, and how I had thought I had heard a cry from the direction of the tower, but had said nothing. Oliver had said something though; what was it? Yes, he had said the following day, ‘Remorse is not yet within your experience.’ And later, by the hut, he had said, ‘About Moti, it’s finished. Quite finished.’ What a conceited, self-regarding fool I had been not to have wondered at the flat note of bitterness in his voice as he spoke both sentences. He must have found her when he left us in the thatch and came back in the Pathan clothing, carrying the bundle of burqhas. He had been irritable and impatient. Once or twice that night I had addressed him without getting any response, but had put his abstraction down to fatigue.
To fatigue! Poor Oliver, and poor Moti, to whom we all owed so much, to whom Pearl owed her life twice over.
‘You see, miss.’ Toddy-Bob was suddenly eloquent. ‘Moti was a lady—for a native, that is. She wasn’t no common bazaar woman as he took up with. She ’ad a proper family, and a big ’ouse and all, down Cawnpore way, and they, ’er family I mean, well, they didn’t like it by ’alf when she took up with the guv’nor. Muslims they were, so it weren’t caste and that, but they ’as their ideas of right and wrong same as any, and to get ’er away at all, ’e ’ad to do the right thing, settle her proper and agree that if ’e got tired, or married or such, well, ’e’d give ’er a right pension and see ’er ’appy. All drew up it was by a maulvi. ’E ’ad ’er for seven year; there were another nipper, older than Yasmina, a boy, but ’e died when ’e was no more than a mite. Married they was, as near as you can get in this ’eathen country, and more so than many I could mention. That’s why, you see, ’e, the Guv’nor I mean, ’as to get Yasmina back to ’er granddaddy for ’er mother’s sake. ’Tis only right that he should. She can’t be brought up in the quarters like a servant, however you sees it, and what else can be done with ’er?’
‘How did Yasmina escape?’ I enquired with a catch in my whispered voice. The small girl with the great velvet eyes, had she seen her mother killed?
‘Hanifa, the servant woman, ’ad taken ’er down to the cellar, where you and the other gentry should ’ave gone.’
‘But why, why did they kill Moti? Wasn’t she as much an Indian as they? I could understand if it had been one of us.’
‘Yes’m. But she warned the Guv’nor. And then there was the way she ’ad been livin’ with a white man. They don’t like it; anyway not now they don’t.’ He shuffled through the dust, looking at his feet in embarrassment. ‘Mind, ’e’d ’orse-whip me if ’e knew I’d told you all this. It’s ’is business, and I’ve no right … but there’s things as you should know … now.’
‘Yes, of course I see that, and I certainly won’t mention it. Tod … what can he do with the child now? Where can he take her that she will be safe?’
‘Oh, as to being safe, ’e could fix ’er up with someone in ’Assanganj, I suppose; Yakub Ali’s family, or one of them. But it’s on account of ’er ma, you see; ’e reckons ’e must take the nipper back to ’er ma’s family, and well, explain like, personal, how it come about that she were killed. ’E’ll take ’er down to Cawnpore.’
‘But he can’t. I heard him say this morning that he had some idea of taking all of us there, to go downriver to Calcutta, but we hadn’t a chance of getting through.’
‘Yes’m. That’s so—for you. But ’im and Yasmina’ll get through just fine. No bother about that; not if ’e sets ’is mind to it.’
‘I see. I wish, though, I wish very much that you had been with him. I don’t like to think of him, of them, alone at a time like this.’
‘Yes’m. Me too!’ said Toddy with heartfelt fervour, and I closed the slit in the curtains and leaned back on the greasy bolster to consider this latest information.
Moti! How well I remembered that first occasion I had seen her. Moti, vehement, enraged, with small fists balled aggressively, snatching Yasmina away from me and thrusting her into the arms of the serving woman, Hanifa. She had hated me then, so, somehow, she must have divined, or at least feared, the nature of Oliver Erskine’s feelings for me, discovered them more quickly and accurately than I, the object of them, had been able to do. So many things, circumstances, odd words, actions, were falling into place now that I had the key to his behaviour. Of course Moti hated me; I was a threat to her happiness, her love, her way of life. I did not trouble to wonder how she had guessed his interest in me, for I know that a man can keep little of his true self from a woman who loves him.
There was one thing further I had to learn from Toddy-Bob. I parted the curtains again, and found that we were now in the city itself, jogging along a narrow, malodorous lane, cleft between blank walls and strangely empty of human beings.
‘Tod,’ I whispered when he had drawn near. ‘What will Mr Erskine do when he has taken Yasmina back to her grandparents?’
‘Dunno, miss.’
‘But didn’t he say?’
‘No, miss. ’E didn’t know, I expect. Things is powerful upset at the moment, miss.’
‘Yes … yes, I know they are, but, Tod, what is there he can do? Is he likely to stay in Cawnpore or go back to Hassanganj, or what? I can’t see what point there would be in his going back there, but perhaps … I
suppose he might?’
‘ ’E might. No tellin’, miss. Though as you say, ’e won’t have much to do there. I dunno. ’E might come ’ere I expect.’
‘To Lucknow?’
‘Well, it would be sensible, miss, though, mind, I’m not saying as ’ow ’e would. ’E don’t seem to pull well in span, so to speak.’
‘He gave no indication, then, of when you could expect to see him again?’
‘Not when, miss, ’e couldn’t, now could ’e, with none of us knowing where we’ll be in a week’s time? Things might’ve blowed over, and if they ’ave, well ’e’ll turn up, I expect. But ’e did say as ’ow we was to keep our eyes peeled for trouble, and that when ’e saw us again, ’e ’oped to ’ave a good report of us. ’E meant me o’ course; ’e knows ’e can trust Ishmial, seeing as ’ow bein’ a Muslim ’e don’t drink.’
‘Oh, then it could be weeks, I suppose, before we see him?’
‘Yes’m. It could. But if you was to ask me, well I’d think ’ed make it his business to see you right; you and Mr Flood and ’is lady, that is. See you safe on the way to Calcutta,’ he ended, and there was no mistaking the note of hope in his voice at the prospect of this end to our vexatious intrusion into the masculine fastness that had been Hassanganj.
‘Yes, I see.’
The hour and a half in which we had expected to be in the Residency drew out to nearly two hours, and still we jogged along in the darkness of the palanquins, as the heat mounted and the odours of the bazaars we traversed grew insupportable in their intensity, then faded to an unpleasant afterthought in the nostrils. Sometimes there were crowds of people jostling the bearers, sometimes even pressing inwards the curtains of the palanquin; at other times we seemed to be moving in isolation, when the only sounds were the shuffle of the bearers’ feet on the beaten dust of the roadway. It was stuffy in the palanquin; Pearl slept restlessly, tossing her arms about in the heat, and after a time, lulled by the movement and the heat and the darkness, I too must have dozed.
I awoke with a start. The palanquin was stationary, and around us voices were loud in altercation: strange voices of the guards, the bearers and the onlookers, the familiar tones of Toddy-Bob and Ishmial’s deeper, gruffer accent. I had no idea where we were, and was afraid to part the curtains and look out. I strained my ears, trying to make out what was being said; two or three times I heard the name ‘Wajid Khan’, but the rest was lost to me, so many people spoke together and spoke so quickly. At last the curtains were parted. I shrank back into the darkness of the corner in which I sat, but it was only Toddy-Bob.
‘A spot of trouble, miss,’ he said uneasily. ‘There’s some sort of trouble going on up the road. A shop’s been set on fire, and a lot of badmashes with clubs is gettin’ set to make things ’ot for the poor devils in the bazaar. Looks ugly, right enough, and the bearers is refusin’ to go on. Can’t say as ’ow I blame ’em.’
‘Then what’s to happen, Tod? Where can we go? Must we turn back?’
‘Nothin’ else to do, miss. The bearers are talkin’ about going back to Wajid Khan’s place. Seems like it’s the best thing to do. Can’t think of no alternative!’
‘Oh, surely we can take another route? We can’t be far from the Residency now, we’ve been travelling such a long time. Surely we can take some road that skirts the area where the trouble is, and still reach the Residency?’
‘I’ll see, miss.’
There was another pause for the sort of heated, acrimonious exchange which in India only means that several people are exchanging views. Then Toddy thrust his head into the curtain again.
‘No go, miss. The bearers say as ’ow this ’ere is a sort of dead end. We got to get through that square to reach the Residency, or go back almost as far as Wajid Khan’s house anyway. They reckon it would be a good thing to ’ear what he ’as to say, first; then if ’e thinks it’s safe, we can go round, the long way by the river.’
‘You’d better consult Mr Flood,’ I said, remarking the look of pain on his face as Toddy ducked his head out of the curtains. He did not mind consulting me, but was reluctant to give Charles the impression that he was now in Oliver’s position of authority. Toddy was back in a few moments, which had seemed long because I could hear from their voices that the bearers and guards were becoming restive at the delay; up ahead of us there was shouting and screaming as the fire took hold.
‘ ’E don’t know what’s for the best, miss. Didn’t think ’e would!’ Toddy paused.
‘But you think we ought to go back, don’t you, Tod?’
‘I think it’s the only thing to do right now, miss. If this trouble up ’ere spreads, the ’ole city might be riotin’ in an hour. I seen it ’appen before. They get worked up about next to nothin’ and next thing you know, they’re all chargin’ down the chowks ready to murder their own mothers. Best to lay low like, till we see what’s goin’ to ’appen.’
‘Very well,’ I sighed. ‘You’d better tell them to turn back. We will have to throw ourselves on Mr Khan’s mercy, I suppose, and leave later on when things have returned to normal.’
We moved at a much smarter pace returning than coming, and alighted in the courtyard of a large house, glad to stretch our limbs and feel sunlight on our faces. The bearers grunted and groaned and rubbed their shoulder muscles, but stood around until Charles had remembered what was necessary and handed a fistful of silver to their leader. Meanwhile, Emily and I looked around us curiously, and Ishmial went in search of someone to send for Wajid Khan. After a time he came back and said we were to wait in the inner courtyard, so we picked up our bundles and followed him through a high archway into what was obviously the hub of the household.
This courtyard was only slightly smaller than the first and was lined by the ground floor verandahs of the great house. On the opposite side to where we stood another archway led into a third court, where probably the servants’ quarters were to be found and the stables and coach-houses; for, as we stood in the deep shadow of the verandah trying to accustom our eyes to the darkness, our two palanquins were carried through and into the far courtyard, followed at a more dignified rate by the guards.
We stood for some time watching the life of the household progress around us, with as little attention given to our presence as if we had been invisible. On one of the verandahs, preparations were being made for a meal. A cook squatted against a pillar and made the paste for his curry, working the spices on a piece of red stone shaped like the headstone of a grave with another rounded stone which he held in both hands and ground in disciplined, rhythmical strokes over the heap of curry-leaves, peppercorns, coriander seeds, fenugreek and turmeric. I could smell the garlic and ginger from where I stood, and realized suddenly that I was very hungry. Near the cook a couple of women scoured copper pots with wood-ash and wads of grass, and another winnowed the black spots and twigs from orange lentils with a cane winnowing basket. Another cook watched a pan simmering on an iron brazier, sometimes fanning the red-hot charcoal with a fan of plaited straw. Near us a woman sat with a child in her arms, watching another little girl toddling about in the shade before her; I wondered whether these were the sisters of the boy I had rescued. Several beds stood about haphazardly on the verandahs, the crude native beds of string called charpoys; one of them held a recumbent form, and on another, whose grimy mosquito netting had been turned back on the bamboo poles that held it, a man, wearing only his nether garments, sat and yawned and scratched his sagging belly and the mat of grey hairs on his brown chest.
Servants, coolies, tradesmen came and went, bringing in charcoal, vegetables and round baskets of fruit. Some carried their wares through to the servants’ quarters, some stayed to offer and haggle and eventually leave their merchandise on the verandah. As I watched, I became aware of other figures sleeping in the deep shade against the wall, or gossiping together with long intervals for thought, or moving pointlessly from one group to another. Once the half-naked man on the bed clapped his hands and, as if from n
owhere, a servant appeared with a large inlaid box which he laid at his master’s feet, while with the contents, leaves and betel nut and sharp white lime, he prepared the wad of pan which had been called for. The man on the bed took the plump green tricorne, shoved it in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully, while the servant replaced the parrot-beak shears with which he had sliced the betel nut, picked up the box and disappeared. After a while his master spat a long stream of red juice at the base of a pillar, and subsided, content, on his bed. I was glad, for I had noticed that he, alone among the folk in the courtyard, had been watching us, and there was something in the unswerving gaze of his yellowed eyes, some hint of expression in his fat, loose-lipped face, that made me uneasy.
‘It is very unlike the way an English house is run,’ Emily whispered softly. ‘So many people doing nothing in particular, and cooking and sleeping in the open air. And sleeping at such an hour! There seems no system or order, and yet Oliver said Wajid Khan is of very good family.’
‘So I believe,’ I agreed. ‘Their way of doing things is just different to ours. And I have no doubt that they have worked out some system that suits them in this climate. But,’ and I looked around me, to find the fat man on one elbow gazing at us again, ‘I expect these are only hangers-on, poor relations and so on. The more important members of the family will live upstairs, and the ladies, of course, will take their air on the roof.’
‘Poor things! Shut up by themselves all day long; no wonder the house is so badly run.’
We had been waiting a good half-hour when at last a servant appeared and ushered us to Wajid Khan. He was a young man, from his appearance and clothing an upper-servant of some sort, and he had a bold eye and impudent manner that I at once disliked. As we were going, the fat man on the bed called out a question to which the young servant made a careless, laughing rejoinder, but I knew that what I had found disturbing in the fat man’s gaze was that something in our appearance had aroused his curiosity. Yet we had kept our hands covered, and Pearl, who was so very white, was safe beneath her mother’s burqha.
Zemindar Page 48
