The Satapur Moonstone Page 31

  Chitra gave swift instructions to the children who had been guarding the palace, and the youngest one hurried off for a rope.

  “Ganesan is coming?” Padmabai’s voice had a happy lilt.

  Perveen was glad for the opportunity to reassure the girl. “Of course. Did you know that at the circuit house, Ganesan has a brother dog?”

  “A brother dog,” she repeated, sounding impressed. “Older or younger?”

  “You will have to decide about that. He is just as big, but not quite as clean. I daresay they would be happy to see each other again.” Her comment was strategic. After the lodge, Perveen intended to bring Padmabai to the circuit house for safety.

  “I would like to see the brother dog!” Padmabai’s feet drummed against Rani, and Perveen had to hastily pull back the reins to keep the horse from moving. The boy reappeared with a rope, and Rama helped construct a leash tied to Ganesan’s jeweled collar.

  “Even if the princess drops the leash, he will follow,” Chitra said. Looking soberly at Perveen, she added, “I am praying to Shiva-ji and Aranyani both that you find the young maharaja and my dear maharani. She is finally free to rule the zenana.”

  Perveen knew Chitra was talking about Mirabai leading the women, but Perveen could imagine that Mirabai might refuse to live that way anymore, since there was no longer a mother-in-law to obey. And there was something else. Women had taken charge of kingdoms and princely states before. Could Mirabai serve as regent? This prospect was something for the Agency to consider.

  Rama swiftly mounted his horse and gestured to Perveen. “Let’s travel before the sun is gone.”

  “We will see you again,” Perveen said emphatically to Chitra. “I will send a letter straight to the palace in case there is a delay bringing home the children.”

  “Rama-ji, tell me, how far?” Padmabai called out to Rama shortly after they had left the palace.

  “Half an hour more,” he said. “Not long.”

  Padmabai bounced against Perveen. “But it’s boring.”

  “You are seeing the world! How can that be boring?” Perveen could not keep the tension out of her voice. Padmabai seemed to have forgotten the seriousness of their quest. There was no telling whether Jiva Rao or Mirabai were at the lodge. If Mirabai was in a depressed state when she found Jiva Rao, she might have taken him on her horse, just as Perveen was carrying Padmabai. And because the maharani had disagreed with Perveen’s idea to keep the prince in India, Mirabai might have decided not to return.

  Or maybe, if Mirabai couldn’t find Jiva Rao, she would end her own life. Swagata had said suicide was a sin, but the outlawed custom of sati—a widow’s suicide following a husband’s death—still occurred on occasion in rural areas. It was not outrageous to think a melancholic woman might want to die after the deaths of her husband and both sons in just a two-year period. That was far too much grief for anyone.

  “Where is the lodge?” Padmabai complained as she fidgeted with Ganesan’s leash.

  “Just ahead,” Perveen said, fibbing. “Be careful with the dog’s leash. Don’t drop it!”

  “I must get off. The horse is too much up and down,” the princess whined.

  Perveen wanted to divert her. “Look at that banyan tree. Let’s count banyans on the way to the lodge.”

  But these attempts to settle Padmabai weren’t effective. Perveen made a frustrated face at Rama as the little girl kept complaining.

  “Do not worry,” he said, moving his horse along at a steady pace. “The lodge is near, and once she eats, she will be calm.”

  Perveen doubted how calm the child could be after having seen her dead grandmother. “The people at the lodge are very kind. They’ll be very excited to meet Princess Padmabai.”

  “No!” Rama corrected her. “They will fear looking at a princess would show disrespect.”

  “Even so young?” Perveen was dismayed.

  “Yes. We must shield her.”

  Perveen agreed to follow Rama’s advice and dismount from the horses close to a stream that was just out of sight of the lodge. While Perveen let the horses drink their fill, Rama went ahead to the lodge to ask about the maharaja, promising Padmabai he would bring her something to eat. Perveen watched the princess dart around, looking at every dragonfly, beetle, and bird with interest. “Will Water Rat come with his boat?” Padmabai asked.

  “I don’t think so. He’s in England!”

  “That’s a shame. Where can I make susu?”

  Perveen had not planned a strategy for royal toileting needs. Apologetically, she said, “There is no special room here like you have at the palace.”

  Padmabai hopped from one foot to the other. “Isn’t there a thunderbox like Rajmata’s?”

  “We will go behind the tree. It’s all right; nobody will see.”

  “Ganesan can come. He doesn’t mind.”

  Perveen made sure the horses were tied fast before taking Padmabai.

  “Where’s Rama? He said he was bringing me something,” Padmabai demanded after they’d returned.

  Perveen checked her wristwatch. “It has only been ten minutes. He must be waiting for the food to be made. They make very tasty rotis here.”

  “I’m hungry!” Padmabai stamped her foot, and Ganesan gave a low growl.

  But twenty-five minutes later, Rama had not returned. Perveen tried to imagine various scenarios. Perhaps he had fallen into an important conversation about the maharaja. She longed to walk closer to the lodge to look for Jiva Rao, but she was reluctant to bring the princess because of what Rama had said about people’s expectations of purdah.

  Sitting on the grass, Perveen stared at Rani. The horse looked back blankly as if to say she didn’t know what was keeping Rama either. Rani shifted her feet, and the cashmere shawl lying on the saddle moved, too. With new eyes, Perveen looked at the garment. She could drape it over the princess. That would provide enough privacy—but would the child be frightened?

  Perveen sprang up and took the shawl from the saddle. Chuckling, she tossed the red cloth over the girl. “Look at you now!”

  “Aankh micholi!” cried out Padmabai.

  The princess thought Perveen wanted to play blindman’s buff.

  “We don’t have enough people,” Perveen said. “This is a different game. Just follow me quietly. I’ll take Ganesan with us.”

  Walking along the path to the lodge, Perveen nodded to a few peasants standing around. She tried to act as if it were entirely natural to be slowly leading a draped child with one hand, and a leashed dog with the other.

  “We are looking for our traveling guide,” Perveen said to the grizzled man from whom she’d bought millet rotis. There was a circle of dough cooking on his round griddle.

  “Who is that?” he asked, flipping the bread. “A young bride?”

  The shawl’s red color must have confused him. “No. A child I need to keep safe.”

  He shook his head. “Who is this? You must tell me.”

  Swiftly, she realized that the draped princess could be mistaken for the missing maharaja. “No, no. It is not the maharaja.”

  “It’s me!” Padmabai’s voice came out cheerily.

  In a low voice, Perveen said, “It is the princess, and I have covered her for the sake of privacy.”

  At that declaration, Padmabai pulled off the shawl and looked around smiling. “I smell such nice roti!”

  The man groaned and clapped his hands over his eyes. “I saw nothing!”

  “Will you please wear the shawl over your head again? It is not that you are bad—but the people here believe that they are being rude if they look at you,” Perveen admonished Padmabai.

  “You don’t wear a shawl, so I won’t,” Padmabai declared.

  Perveen would have liked to talk with her sometime about how women’s rights differed according to rank and religi
on and family preferences, but this was not the place. Ignoring the princess, Perveen addressed the roti maker, who was edging away. “Bhaiya, please wait. I must find our guide. Didn’t he come to you asking for food?”

  The man stopped but did not turn around. “I saw that man, but the prince came out to speak with him.”

  “What prince?” She felt hope rising at the thought of the maharaja.

  “Prince Swaroop. And he’s in an angry mood.”

  “Where are they now?” Perveen wondered whether the prince had refused to go to Poona with Colin because he had suspected she was up to trouble. She scanned the area and didn’t see evidence of a horse.

  “They went off.” He pointed vaguely toward the woods behind the lodge.

  Perveen felt uneasy. Why would Rama abandon them? It could only be due to the prince’s order.

  As if sensing her unease, Ganesan began whimpering.

  “Poor Ganesan,” Padmabai said, peering down at him. “He is also hungry!”

  The rotis man bowed his head. “What I make is poor quality. I cannot make food fine enough for a princess.”

  “Your rotis are very good, and she must eat.” Perveen would have said more but saw that Padmabai had let the leash for Ganesan slip out of her hand. The dog was trotting away from them toward the woods.

  “Ganesan! Come back!” Padmabai screeched, but the dog paid her no mind. His casual trot broke into a run.

  “He may have smelled an animal,” Perveen said. Seeing the fear in Padmabai’s eyes, she added, “He’ll come back soon!”

  “What if it’s a leopard or tiger? He could be eaten!”

  Desperate to sound reassuring, Perveen said, “It won’t happen.”

  “But my other brother was eaten up!”

  Perveen opened her mouth to comfort Padmabai, but the girl had already started chasing the dog.

  “Come back for your roti,” Perveen shouted, but she knew it was in vain.

  Padmabai, who had lost so much, was determined to keep her dog.

  Perveen smelled smoke from the flatbread now burning on the griddle. The man had abandoned his cooking and had run toward the lodge. Good. Let him get the others to help.

  She picked up the edge of her skirt and began chasing after Padmabai.

  Padmabai was still in sight, and it wasn’t too hard to catch up with someone with such short legs. However, the princess wouldn’t stop and turn back. She was insistent on following the palace dog, who was now moving at a trot just fast enough that his rope stayed out of reach. Perveen grew even more frustrated as she followed Padmabai off the path and into uncut forest. Rama wouldn’t know where they were, and they were hardly on track to find the maharaja, as she had planned.

  Padmabai was moving steadily but, in an instant, tumbled and fell. This pause gave Perveen time to sprint a few yards and catch up with her. Perveen picked her up and saw a small, dirty gash on the child’s leg.

  “I’m bleeding!” Padmabai whimpered.

  “It’s all right,” Perveen said. “We can clean that up. Really, we should go back.”

  “No!” the princess said, wiping tears from her eyes with dirty fists. “We must get Ganesan.”

  “You have such a lovely voice. Just call him,” Perveen beseeched.

  “He only obeys Aai and Aditya.” The child scrambled up to her feet. “Hurry, hurry!”

  This far from the path, everything looked the same—ironwood trees with their twisty, sinister limbs and ground covered by tangles of vines and fallen boughs.

  One couldn’t see snakes and other dangers when traveling off the path. Perveen wanted to tell this to Padmabai, but what was the point? The child was insistent on saving her dog from presumed danger. All in all, she was considerably more courageous than Perveen had assumed.

  Perveen was so upset she forgot the rules. “Padmabai, you must—”

  “No!” The little girl ran forward with a surge of speed that was surprising. Ganesan had paused, allowing his mistress to catch up and take hold of his leash. Then he resumed his trot, pulling her forward.

  Perveen’s breath became labored as she chased the dog and princess, who were gaining considerable distance. Perveen would have been able to catch the princess at her previous speed, but the sturdy dog was pulling the girl faster than Perveen would have expected. Adding to the trouble was the darkness of the forest. Through the dappled black-and-green shade, she worked hard to focus on the moving splotch of white that was Padmabai’s fancy lace-trimmed dress.

  When the girl suddenly veered off to the right, Perveen raced on as quickly as she could, but as she made the turn into the green, she could no longer see the princess. Just ahead was a small, oddly shaped building. It was a short tower with a barred window on the ground level. On the roof, there was a built-in bench.

  Was this the hunting tower that she had glimpsed when traveling to the palace a couple of days earlier? She approached the tower, hoping that Padmabai had become curious and gone inside. A tower would contain her; and it was a relief to slow down. Perveen was entirely unfit for running.

  Her ears perked at the sound of three sharp barks. Not barks of defense—the sound of happy greeting, she thought as she picked up the pace of her steps.

  Perveen looked through an arched opening about five feet high. There was a room with a ladderlike stair at its center. She understood this was for hunters to climb in order to reach the rooftop for shooting.

  She had to bow her head to get through the short doorway, bringing back the slight anxiety she’d had a few hours earlier when she’d entered the zenana. But nobody was waiting for her with a knife. As she entered the cramped space, she saw Ganesan standing on his hind legs with his front paws on someone small.

  “He’s so dirty. Make him get down!”

  The imperious voice was unmistakable.

  “Maharaja, I have been looking all over for you! Ganesan, stand down!” she called out in the way Mirabai had done. The dog obediently dropped back to all fours. Prince Jiva Rao’s fine coat and trousers were covered in dirt, and his curly hair stood on end. As he saw her, his face fell.

  “Don’t take me!” he shouted.

  “I won’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go.” Perveen felt herself on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry about your worries. And so glad Ganesan led me to you.”

  “I found him!” Padmabai said. She had crowded herself behind her brother and was petting the dog.

  “And what about your mother?” Perveen asked hopefully. “Maharaja, is she also here?”

  Before he could answer, a sharp whistle startled her. Ganesan’s ears perked, and he whirled about. An Indian dressed in riding clothes with a holstered pistol at the waist had stooped to enter the hunting tower. Perveen put her hands together in a respectful namaste, and then her words of greeting died.

  This was not Maharani Mirabai, or Roderick Ames. The person who’d come into the tower was about the same size as Prince Swaroop and had the same hooked nose and dark curls. But he was not the children’s uncle.

  He was the buffoon.

  24

  A Fiery Fate

  No wonder Ganesan had happily run to be petted. But Perveen felt unsettled by the altered appearance of Aditya. Seeing him in this context, she recognized how similar his frame and coloring were to Swaroop’s. Aditya also shared Jiva Rao’s striking golden-brown eyes. How had she missed these resemblances all those times he’d spoken to her at the palace? It could only be that she’d allowed hierarchy to obstruct what was obvious.

  Aditya smiled at her, but his expression was not friendly. “Why did you come to this place? You were supposed to go to Poona.”

  “Is that what they told you?” Perveen said instead of directly answering. She had seen the pistol in his holster and didn’t want him to seize control of the situation.

  Jiva Rao looked
anxiously at him. “Aditya-yerda, don’t let her take me away!”

  “Don’t worry,” Aditya said. “She won’t take you or your sister. You will stay with me forever.”

  Perveen didn’t like Aditya’s sharp insistence. Firmly, she said, “Children, my job is to keep you safe and bring you home. Aditya, we have much to talk about, but we must reunite the children with their mother.”

  “Did you know Aai went away?” Padmabai said to Jiva Rao. “And Rajmata has died.”

  Jiva Rao ceased all movement. “What?”

  “It is very sad that your grandmother has passed,” Perveen said, seeing the prince’s stunned reaction. “We will look for your mother, just as we have searched for you—”

  “You did nothing to find him,” Aditya said coldly. “I caught him a few hours ago.”

  Perveen took note of the aggressive verb Aditya had used. Jiva Rao’s eyes were slightly moist, and she couldn’t know if this was because of the bad news about his family, or because of Aditya’s strange behavior. If the buffoon had found the prince hours ago, why hadn’t he told the servants at the lodge?

  The dog barked, and the buffoon gave him a sharp rap on the muzzle. That act made it clear that Aditya had seized control of their only possible ally. Perveen did not know what attack commands Mirabai had taught the dog; even if she could guess them correctly, why would the dog listen to her?

  Perveen scanned the tower for evidence of what the buffoon and prince might have been doing before her arrival. The round room was small and had very little in it: several unlit lanterns, a water jar, two camp chairs with canvas seats embroidered with the Satapur coat of arms, and a carved wooden chest. A brazier holding half-burned wood sat in the tower’s center. Perveen could imagine the scene at a hunt—a prince and his aide could wait here, drinking tea until a great cat came pacing around outside, which could be glimpsed from the window. Then the prince would climb the central stair to the tower’s top and get his shot.

  In the darkness, something bright on top of the chest caught her eye. It was a golden box with a sparkling line of diamonds and a purple floral design. She had seen it before—had it been at the palace? Perhaps the buffoon had stolen it.