Sandokan: Quest for a Throne (The Sandokan Series Book 6)

by Emilio Salgari

  The tiger lay on a pile of dry leaves opposite the Portuguese. Its chest was red with blood and its front paws badly wounded. At the sight of those three men it tried to stand, but fell back almost instantly, growling in anger as it struck the ground.

  “You’ve been accused of murder,” said Yanez, who was now just ten paces from the beast. “And been found guilty. The jury was unanimous I’m afraid: you must pay for your crimes by offering your pelt to his Highness the Rajah of Assam. Close your eyes.”

  Instead of obeying the tiger tried once more to stand. But just as it had drawn itself up to its full height, a pair of rifle shots thundered from Yanez’ rifle. The kala baagh fell back, shot through the head.

  “Justice is served,” said Sandokan.

  “Shikari advance!” shouted Yanez. “The tiger is dead.”

  The beaters quickly built a stretcher out of bamboo reeds and placed the beast upon it.

  “By Jupiter!” said Yanez, who had drawn near it to get a better look. “I’ve never seen one this big.”

  “It’s been well fed,” said Tremal-Naik.

  “Not a pretty pelt. It almost seems as if it had mange.”

  “That’s common among man-eaters. They say it’s from all the salt in the human flesh.”

  “I’ve heard it’s the same with cannibals,” said Sandokan. “They can get quite sick if they consume too much of it.”

  “Yes,” said Yanez. “I’ve heard that as well. Regardless, it’s still a handsome beast and will make a fine gift for the rajah. Now then, back to Guwahati. We still have much to do.”

  When they emerged from the thicket they were greeted with wild cheers from the khansama, shikari and bearers. The small band quickly returned to camp, and once they had eaten breakfast and had a smoke, they mounted the elephants once again and set off towards the capital of Assam.

  Chapter 10

  The Rajah’s Court

  SIX HOURS LATER the caravan, accompanied by a large crowd of onlookers that had flocked from all quarters of the city to catch a glimpse of the dreaded beast and hurl insults at its corpse, halted before the rajah’s palace.

  The ministers, informed by a pair of shikari that had run ahead with news of the party’s success, awaited the English hunter at the base of the grand marble steps, with a large escort of Sikh soldiers and eunuchs dressed in colourful garb.

  “Tremal-Naik and I will leave you now,” said Sandokan, stopping him as he was about to climb down from the elephant. “You know where to find us. Good luck, and be careful.”

  “I’ll keep the Malays with me.”

  “You could not have asked for better men! Come, Tremal-Naik, we’ll take advantage of this confusion to slip away unseen.”

  “You’ll hear from me soon.”

  The Portuguese climbed down the rope ladder and walked towards the ministers, followed by eight shikari carrying the tiger’s pelt.

  “Tell the rajah I’ve returned victorious,” he said, once more the eccentric Englishman.

  “His Highness awaits you, my lord,” the ministers replied in unison, bowing so deeply their foreheads almost touched the ground.

  An escort of honour quickly assembled about him and Yanez was led up the stairway by four eunuchs and two columns of Sikh soldiers that fell in step on either side of him.

  The throne room was crowded with dignitaries, officers, musicians, and nautchni, female court dancers dressed in colourful costumes similar to those worn by the devadasis of Bengal and Central India. The rajah was reclining on his throne, chatting with a few courtiers. When he saw Yanez enter followed by the shikari carrying the kala baagh, he immediately rose to his feet, a sign of great favor, and descended the dais’ three steps, extending his right hand.

  “You’re a brave man, my lord,” he said.

  “I know when to shoot,” replied the Portuguese.

  “None of my subjects, no matter how brave, would have been able to confront and kill such a beast. Ask me whatever you desire; it shall be granted.”

  “I’m happy to be your chief huntsman and a guest in your palace.”

  “I’ll hold a great feast in your honor.”

  “Too much noise gives me a headache. An evening of Indian theater will suffice.”

  “I keep a troupe in the city; they’re renowned throughout my kingdom.”

  “Perfect! I look forward to the show.”

  “You must be tired.”

  “A little.”

  “Your apartment is ready; you may have as many servants as you like.”

  “All I need, Highness, are my men and a khansama.”

  “You’ll find one waiting for you at your door, my lord. When would like to watch the performance?”

  “This evening, if possible.”

  “Your wish is my command, my lord,” the rajah replied courteously.

  He approached the tiger’s corpse and studied it for a moment.

  “This pelt will make a fine addition to your quarters,” he said. “It will always remind you of your first great service to me and my subjects. Now, go and rest, my lord, we’ll dine together this evening and I’ll introduce you to another white man who I hope will become your friend.”

  “I look forward to meeting him,” said Yanez.

  The audience was at an end. The Portuguese summoned his Malays and the small band of men left the great hall with two eunuchs who would escort them to their quarters.

  The rajah gestured for all to leave then stretched out on his throne. Once the room was empty the silk curtains behind him parted to reveal a man of European origin.

  He was tall, pale skinned and his face was framed by a long black beard. He had regular features, an aquiline nose and dark piercing eyes; however, there was something unsettling about him that made him look sly and untrustworthy. Like all Europeans who live in India, he was dressed in white flannel clothes, but instead of a matching turban he wore a phareon, a scarlet cap with a long black tassel worn by Greek elite light infantry.

  “What do you make of our guest, Teotokris?” asked the rajah. “From the look on your face I’d say you’re not pleased by the Englishman’s success.”

  “You’re mistaken, Highness; Greeks admire courage.”

  “Then why the frown, my friend? You look worried.”

  “I am, Highness,” said the Greek.

  “Why?”

  “Are you certain he’s an English lord?”

  “He’s given me no reason to doubt it.”

  “Do you know where he came from?”

  “Bengal, he said.”

  “And what is he doing here?”

  “Hunting.”

  The Greek grimaced.

  “Humph!”

  “Do you know something that I should know?”

  “Just that he occasionally visits a beautiful Indian woman. She’s rich and must be of high caste, her home is quite lavish and she has a large retinue of servants.”

  “None of that seems extraordinary,” said the rajah. “It’s not uncommon for an Indian woman to marry an Englishmen.”

  “What if he’s been sent here by the governor of Bengal to spy upon your every move?”

  The rajah’s face hardened.

  “Do you have proof of this, Teotokris?” he asked coldly.

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s a guess then, just your opinion.”

  “Yes, Highness; for now at least.”

  The rajah remained silent for a moment.

  “Your suspicious nature has served me well in the past,” he said upon reflection.

  The Greek smiled.

  “It pays to be cautious. I’d like to see his papers, his titles of nobility.”

  “The police are always at your disposal. Use them. However, until you have proof of your claims, that Englishman is to be treated as my guest. He brought back the Shaligram, then killed the kala baagh that had been terrorizing my subjects in Kamarpur for over a year and asked for nothing in return. For all your skills, you’ve never ac
complished as much in a mere forty-eight hours.”

  The Greek bit his lip.

  “I do not dispute his courage or that Fortune has favored him,” he said. “But take heed, Highness, bold men are often dangerous.”

  Annoyed, the rajah stood up.

  “Leave him be, Teotokris. Go tell the actors to prepare a show for this evening. Have the stage erected in the grand courtyard; I expect a thrilling performance in honour of our guest.”

  “As you command, Highness,” replied the Greek.

  He bowed and disappeared through the curtains.

  ***

  Yanez, highly pleased by the manner in which events were unfolding, had settled into the apartments the rajah had assigned him. It was comprised of four rooms, an elegant drawing room, a large bathroom and two bedrooms. All were luxuriously furnished; a punka hung from the ceiling in each room, large wooden fans that servants on the balconies pulled back and forth with ropes to cool the apartment’s interior.

  The khansama the rajah had assigned him had immediately ordered lunch and several bottles of gin and beer, a couple for the chief huntsman and the rest for the six Malays who had taken residence in the second bedroom.

  “Please join me,” Yanez said to the khansama as he sat down. “I’d like the company.”

  “Me!… Eat with you, my lord!” exclaimed the Indian, a look of astonishment on his face.

  “There’s no need to protest. We’ll eat. We’ll talk. I have many things to ask you and several rupees for you if you answer me frankly.”

  The promise of rupees immediately put an end to the khansama’s protests and he took his place at the table without another word.

  “Is it true the actors are here in the palace?” asked Yanez, taking a bite of the food.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Do you know the head of the troupe well?”

  “He’s a good friend of mine, my lord.”

  “Excellent,” said Yanez, pouring a glass of beer and draining it in one shot. “I’d like to speak with him.”

  “Of course, my lord. I’ve been ordered to grant your every wish. The rajah expects no less.”

  “I’d rather the rajah did not know of our encounter. I’ll give you fifty rupees if you keep the matter between us.”

  The khansama started and his eyes widened. It would take him more than a year to make half that amount; the Englishman was offering him a small fortune.

  “Your wish is my command, my lord; what must I do?”

  “Bring the head of the troupe to my quarters, preferably without being seen. Can you manage that?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Where will the show be held?”

  “In the grand courtyard.”

  “The same courtyard where the rajah killed his brother?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I thought as much. Does it still have that famous balcony from where Sindhia’s brother fired upon his relatives?”

  “Yes, it’s directly opposite the stage.”

  “By Jupiter!” said Yanez. “An excellent stroke of luck! Now, go get your friend.”

  The khansama did not wait to be asked twice. He shot to his feet and quickly vanished from the room.

  “Ha! Ha!” laughed Yanez. “This will stir things up a bit!”

  He called to the captain of the six Malays who was dining with his men in the adjoining room.

  “Kechik!”

  “Yes, sir,” said the Malay immediately appearing before him.

  “How many rupees did Sandokan give you?” asked the Portuguese.

  “Six thousand.”

  “Have them ready.”

  A moment later the khansama returned, accompanied by a handsome elderly Malabarese man with sharp eyes and dark skin.

  “Here is the sutradhara[17],” said the khansama.

  The Indian bowed in greeting.

  “Who decides which play will be shown, you or the rajah?” asked Yanez.

  “I do, sahib,” said the sutradhara.

  “What do you intend to show us tonight?”

  “Scenes from the Ramayana, an epic poem written by Valmiki, our greatest poet. Lord Rama, determined to rescue his beloved Sita—”

  “It sounds quite interesting,” interrupted Yanez. “But I’d like to propose something else instead. Come.”

  He stood up and led the sutradhara into the drawing room. They talked for half an hour and once all had been agreed Yanez summoned the Malay captain.

  “Give this man five hundred rupees,” said the Portuguese. “A gift to show my gratitude.”

  The sutradhara fell to the generous Englishman’s feet, who quickly bid him to rise.

  “There is no need for that. Take the money and do as I instructed. Now go and do not tell a soul.”

  “I’ll be as silent as a bronze statue, sahib,” said the sutradhara.

  Once alone, Yanez retired to the bedroom. It held a king-size bed in a gilded frame inlaid with mother-of-pearl. He stretched out upon the rich damask bedding, and lulled by the silence and the gentle breeze from the punka above him, soon fell asleep.

  A gentle knock on the door woke him a couple of hours later.

  “Is that you, khansama?” asked Yanez, springing to his feet.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What is it?”

  “The rajah’s favourite wishes to speak with you.”

  “The Greek!” murmured the Portuguese. “At last.” Then aloud he said, “One minute.”

  He straightened his clothes, slipped a pistol into his pocket as a precaution, and walked into the drawing room. The Greek was standing with one hand resting on the table, his brow furrowed in thought.

  At the sight of Yanez, he drew his hand to his side, bowed slightly and greeted him in perfect English.

  “Happy to make your acquaintance, my lord. Welcome to the court of His Highness the Rajah of Assam. It’s always a pleasure to see another European face so far from home.”

  There was a note of irony in his tone that had not escaped the Portuguese, however, he chose to ignore it.

  “I’d heard there was a European here at court,” he replied amiably. “Delighted to meet you, sir. We’re all brothers this far from home. Please have a seat, Mr…”

  “Teotokris.”

  “Greek?”

  “Yes. From the islands.”

  “What brings you here? Greece has no interests in India.”

  “It’s a long story that I’ll save for another time. There’s another matter I wish to discuss on the rajah’s behalf.”

  “Oh?”

  “Just a few questions about your background, my lord.”

  Yanez barely held back a frown. He studied the Greek closely for a moment, as if trying to peer into his thoughts.

  “By all means,” he said.

  “You didn’t come here alone, did you?”

  “No. I brought six hunters with me, Malays who I’d hired and befriended when I was hunting tigers in Borneo.”

  “Ah! You’ve been to Borneo?”

  “I’ve visited all the islands of the Malay Archipelago. Great hunting.”

  “There’s someone you haven’t mentioned though.”

  “Who?”

  “A beautiful young Indian woman who has purchased one of our finest villas.”

  “What of her?” Yanez asked coldly.

  “The rajah would like to know if she’s an Indian princess.”

  “Why?”

  “To invite her to court.”

  “Ah!” Yanez said, barely keeping a note of relief out of his voice. “Thank His Highness for his generosity, but the young woman prefers the peace and tranquility of her home.”

  “Is she a princess?”

  “Yes, from Mysore,” said Yanez. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  The Greek remained silent for a moment, contemplating whether he dared ask his next question.

  “Speak your mind,” said Yanez.

  “How long do y
ou intend to stay in Assam, my lord?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought,” replied Yanez, “It depends on how many tigers there are to slay I guess.”

  “Leave them be,” said the Greek with a shrug. “What does it matter to you if they devour a few hundred Assamese? The rajah will always have more than enough people to govern.”

  “You’re not too kind towards your hosts.”

  “I serve the rajah, not his people.”

  “Is their happiness not intertwined?”

  “Surely a hunter of your calibre would be happier in Bengal. The jungles there abound with game.”

  “Are you asking me to leave?” said Yanez.

  Teotokris eyed him silently for a moment.

  “A Greek would have understood me by now,” he said coldly.

  “That may be, sir,” Yanez replied quietly, “but unlike the Greeks we Englishmen do not pride ourselves on subtlety. We prefer to be direct.”

  “Five thousand rupees if you leave immediately,” said the Greek. “Will that suffice?”

  “To…”

  “Leave immediately.”

  “By thunder!”

  “Eight thousand.”

  Yanez stared at him.

  “Ten thousand,” said the Greek, a note of anger now evident in his voice.

  The Portuguese remained silent.

  “Fifteen?”

  “I’ll pay you thirty thousand if you leave Assam within the next twenty-four hours,” said Yanez, rising to his feet.

  The Greek turned pale.

  “You dare!” he shouted.

  “I dare,” replied Yanez. “It’s a fine sum for a jumped-up sponge diver.”

  “What did you say?” shouted Teotokris, clenching his fists.

  “Rude and hard of hearing. Just how did you become the rajah’s favourite?”

  The Greek took two steps back and glared at Yanez.

  “I think you’re trying to insult me, sir,” he said hoarsely.

  “How perceptive. What do you intend to do about it? In my country when one believes he’s been insulted, he settles the matter with a duel. Is that what you wish, sir? A duel?”

  The Greek remained silent, too stunned to speak.

  Yanez drew a cigarette from his pocket, lit it and blew a small cloud of smoke into the air.

  “Perhaps you’d prefer to smoke? Here, have one.”

  “You mock me, sir!”