‘And the day-to-day running of the state?’ Joe pressed further. ‘Will you and Her Highness have a hands-on role to play or will the authority be in name only?’
‘Oh, very much hands on the reins,’ said Claude. ‘We’ll have to supervise the organization of the state, the finances, the taxation. We’ll be the literal keepers of the treasury! What about that, Lois! There’s a sort of ceremonial handing over of the keys to the khajina . . . I suppose they’ve got a spare set . . . Should check on that . . .’ he murmured.
Joe smiled to see the civil servant so near the surface. The excitement of his new situation was not going to override the meticulous attention to detail that kept Claude’s ship afloat.
‘Khajina?’
‘Very mysterious and romantic,’ Lois joined in. ‘Oh, Claude, do you think they’d let me in – just for a quick peek? It’s a little stronghold in the hills, Commander, a mile or so to the west. And – can you believe? – it’s where the rulers of Ranipur have always kept their treasure. Gold, precious stones . . . worth goodness knows how much! They say the loot is stacked deep in the stone coffers that line the room . . . You can plunge your arm in up to the armpit and encounter nothing but jewels!’
‘They all have them, you know. The princes. Banking and Western methods of storing and moving money around are quite unknown to most of them and certainly not encouraged by HM Government. Hyderabad could buy out the whole of Europe probably and still have change. And heaven knows how much there is stashed away in the Ranipur treasury,’ Claude said with an air of intrigue.
‘Isn’t it, er, vulnerable, up there in the hills?’ asked Joe. ‘Looks like bandit country to me – I flew over it this morning.’
‘Nothing’s ever disappeared from the treasure house, I’m told. It’s guarded by a family of indigenous hill people. They will only let in the keeper of the keys. Udai says they let him in occasionally to run his fingers through his goodies but they don’t exactly encourage visits. It’s not like viewing the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London at tuppence a go!’ he said, shaking his head in mock warning at Lois.
A servant arrived to announce that luncheon was served and they made their way through to an airy dining room facing on to a northern verandah aired by a slight breeze blowing in from the lake. Joe paused, admiring the view framed by the open stone arches.
‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ said Lois, following his gaze. ‘I never tire of looking at the lake. You must come in the evening, Commander, and see the animals. The strangest creatures come down to drink. All kinds of deer, some predators even and wild camel. And the flocks of birds are quite magical! When the duck fly in, they’re so thick you can’t see the opposite bank!’
‘I see your neighbour over there has an even better view. Is that pretty little pavilion inhabited – the one that seems to be growing out of the water? The white, Moghulesque house with the fretted windows?
‘It certainly is,’ said Claude. ‘The ruler gave it to his third wife as a marriage present. Shubhada insisted on having her own accommodation when she came to live here – the zenana was no place for her. And there she lives, discreetly away from the hurly-burly of court life, in some seclusion which, I can tell you, is hard to come by in the palace. Smart move! And the girl’s had the good sense to surround herself with her own staff, mostly recruited in London and Paris and all intensely loyal. Not a whisper of gossip comes from those quarters, I can tell you! Shubhada could be planning the next Indian Mutiny over there and we’d not be aware of it.’
Lunch, to Joe’s surprise, was Indian. Lois explained that they both had a fondness for it and they happened to have an excellent Indian cook, a Pathan from the northern provinces who had the skill of producing spiced and delicious dishes which were not over-hot for an English palate. As Joe sampled the array of fragrant piles of lamb, chicken and vegetables in rich sauces presented on silver thalis he agreed that he had never tasted better.
‘Tell me, Sandilands,’ said Claude as they lit up thin cheroots and accepted cups of coffee at the end of the meal, ‘what made you dash off to Surigargh this morning? Am I to think the copper has a deep interest in the domestic folk art of Shekhavati?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Joe, ‘yes! I have! Though I had no idea what I would see before I got there. Amazing stuff! Very special and, I do believe, quite unknown outside the region?’
‘So I understand. The havelis are rather remote – unapproachable to those who don’t have access to a camel or a plane. But what a disappointing response! Try harder! I had hoped to hear you were straight off like a bloodhound on the trail of whoever is killing off the heirs.’
‘Not my job,’ said Joe firmly. ‘In spite of your appointment. I was accompanying Captain Mercer who is very anxious to locate his rigger, Ali. His favourite for the wire-cutting sabotage, which was very neatly done! Captain Mercer was told that he’d gone back to his home town. We were hoping to catch up with him.’
‘Any luck?’
‘I’m afraid not. No sign. I’m told by none other than Ajit Singh that our lad has “gone to Delhi”.’
Claude sighed. ‘And we all know how to interpret that! Sounds to me as though poor Ali has gone to feed the crocodiles in the lake.’
‘Crocodiles?’
‘Yes. There’s a sort of scavenging squad of the ugly brutes at large in the lake. Their numbers are carefully controlled. I’m sure they perform a useful function,’ he added bleakly. ‘But, look, Sandilands, I’m not happy with the way things are going. I do detect a pattern and I don’t like the look of it. I’m fond of my new charge – Bahadur – and I would like to see him flourish. I wouldn’t like to see him ending up a bonne bouche for the crocs and it does look as though the ruler’s announcement may well have made him a target.’
‘It’s possible,’ said Joe. ‘It’s certainly possible. And that would imply that a superior power is at work here. Two murders which could well have been passed off as death by misadventure or accident were cleverly worked out and perpetrated, and not only the victims but the hired help were removed. It takes a lot of clout in any society to bring that about. And anyone that powerful is not likely to be scared off committing a third murder by two honest English observers standing by exclaiming, “Oh, I say! That’s simply not cricket!”’
Joe would rather have been drawing Claude out on his observations and impressions but he sensed an anxiety about the man, an anxiety he appeared to want to share with a congenial fellow countryman.
Claude was nodding, his eyes on the glowing tip of his cheroot. ‘Just what I . . . we’ve been thinking. And I’d be prepared to draw up and share with you a list of – three? Yes, perhaps three.’
Lois nodded her agreement.
‘But of course, we won’t actually articulate any of them – walls have ears, you know, and our home-grown Ko-Ko is well served.’
‘And I think if we were to compare we’d see the same names come up,’ said Joe. ‘But I have thought, Vyvyan, that we may not be dealing with something as straightforward, as obvious, as the elimination of all the heirs. Has the thought come to you that ends may already have been achieved? That perhaps the accession of Bahadur may be the ultimate aim of whoever is behind all this?’
Claude looked puzzled for a moment and then hopeful. ‘You’re thinking we could all shout “Gone to earth” and go home to our tea? I must say, it would be a huge relief to come off watch.’
‘Good Lord!’ murmured Lois. ‘We’d all been concentrating so much on the idea of all the potential heirs being wiped off the slate . . . But who then? . . . The boy has a good number of people in his corner, including Claude – including me if it comes to that . . .’ She stopped in some embarrassment.
‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘the two murders do seem to have brought about a good result for the state . . . and for British interests. But look here, I’m just theorizing out loud. I’ve only been here two minutes and I could have it wrong. I’d be glad to hear from you, sir. Oh, and by the way
– so would Sir George! He was complaining that he hadn’t had your report on the death of Bishan. And with the next one due now – well, better not let them pile up, eh?’
Vyvyan was silent for a moment. ‘I sent off a report as soon as I was certain of the facts,’ he said carefully, ‘about a week after the death. You’re saying that it never reached Sir George? I did wonder why he hadn’t taken action – until he dispatched you, that is. I kept a copy. Keep a copy of everything. You can see it if you want to.’ He stirred uncomfortably. ‘Must say, that makes me feel a bit . . . what? Overlooked? Besieged? Look, as a precaution, why don’t you carry a copy of my report on each of the deaths back with you in your saddle bag when you return to Simla? Just in case.’
‘I’d be pleased to do that,’ said Joe. ‘Look, sir, is there any chance – before we all get swept up on to elephants and off into the wilderness to try conclusions with this tiger – that I could have a word with Zalim Singh? On a purely unofficial level, of course.’
‘Shouldn’t be difficult to arrange,’ said Claude, stubbing out his cheroot, ‘but there’s someone else who’s asked to see you. Again. Bahadur in his new role of Yuvaraj wants to have a word. Said I’d take you along after lunch.’
‘I’d like very much to see him again. Our first interview was short and impromptu, you could say. But where’s he got to? He seems to be an elusive presence around the palace. Like a ball of quicksilver!’
‘That’s a pretty fair description,’ said Claude. ‘You never know where you’re going to stub your toe on him. He’s with Lizzie Macarthur for the day. She’s tutoring him in the natural history of Rajputana, I believe. Oh, she’s much more than a nanny. Studied at Oxford and a good teacher. Bahadur is devoted to her and she’s a steadying influence on his rather, um, volatile character.’
‘Quite a contrast between the two female influences in the boy’s life?’ suggested Joe.
Claude grunted. ‘You’re right there. His mother is totally uneducated, illiterate even, and that’s normal for village girls of her age but she’s a clever woman. Well, she’d have to be to retain such a hold over the ruler for so many years, I suppose. It would give her enormous consequence if – I mean when Bahadur inherits. If he didn’t she’d be left with nothing. Reduced to the ranks, you might say. And I suppose that’s already occurred to you?’
‘Yes, and I’ll tell you something else. The main players all seem to have one thing in common and that’s Surigargh. What are we looking at, sir? A sort of Mafia setup?’
‘Oh, very like that,’ Claude agreed. ‘Family connections, ruthless ambition, power struggles, vengeance . . . the Sicilians don’t have a patent on that, you know. And I can think of a few Scottish clans who would give the Rajputs a good run for their money,’ he added slyly.
‘You don’t annoy me with a remark like that, sir,’ said Joe easily. ‘I’m a Lowlander from the Borders. We rather look down on all that “wild Heeland” stuff. But Lizzie, now, she’s a Macarthur from . . . the shores of Loch Awe, I think. She’d understand!’
‘And she’d go a long way to protect that young charge of hers,’ said Claude. ‘In determination, I do believe she’d be the equal of that most famous of Rajput nursemaids . . . Do you know the story, Sandilands?’
Joe thought that he did but shook his head. He was enjoying hearing Claude, teasing information out of him, assessing his views, his alliances.
‘One turbulent night,’ Claude began, launching himself into the story with relish, ‘the palace of a Rajput princeling – and he no more than a baby lying in his cradle – was invaded by his wicked uncle and his bunch of cut-throat followers intent on killing his nephew and claiming the throne for himself. Not an unusual story but the next act in the drama was unusual – very. The nursemaid felt honour bound to defend the prince in the only way that to her seemed possible against such odds.’ He fell silent for a moment, the power of the well-known story still able to make him pause in the telling. ‘She snatched the prince from his cradle and put her own baby in his place. The murderous mob arrived and stabbed the nurse’s baby to death. The real prince was smuggled out of the palace and years later when he came of age he presented himself and eventually reclaimed his kingdom. The nursemaid is much honoured in Rajputana for her loyalty.’
‘Terrible, terrible story,’ murmured Joe. ‘And, yes, I can quite imagine it being told in the Gaelic round a turf fire of an evening!’
He eyed Claude covertly. In his easy conversational way, the Resident had presented Joe with four – or was it five? – potential heads on a platter. Joe watched him clap his hands and order more coffee to be brought. How could Joe describe the man’s mood? More than relaxed, he decided – elated, celebratory. But, after all, he had just been handed a significant position. And the key to the state treasury. An uneasy thought came to Joe: with the other heirs removed, Claude’s path to the regency was clear, with all the power and prestige that would flow from the position. Sir Claude and Lady Vyvyan? It sounded fitting. And after that? A governorship? The next Viceroy but two? Small wonder that the Resident and his wife were concerned for the welfare of the new Yuvaraj: Bahadur himself was the key which would unlock Claude’s glittering future.
Chapter Seventeen
A change had already come over Bahadur. The shadows had lifted and the boy’s good humour was beaming through.
‘Commander Sandilands!’ he exclaimed when Joe arrived, escorted by Claude, at Lizzie Macarthur’s rooms in the Old Palace. ‘I was hoping to see you! Tell me, sir, have you heard my good news?’ While he spoke he struggled out of the dark green laboratory apron he had been wearing and threw it impatiently on to the floor.
‘Indeed I have, and I congratulate you on your forthcoming elevation. The state of Ranipur is lucky in the choice of its successor,’ said Joe with a polite bow.
‘I have already conveyed my congratulations to the Yuvaraj,’ said Claude. ‘A happy day indeed!’
‘Well, if you two have finished clicking heels and playing courtiers . . .’ said Lizzie briskly, ‘there are matters I have to discuss with the Commander.’
‘Yes, indeed. Thank you, Mr Vyvyan, for escorting the Commander,’ said Bahadur. ‘We needn’t detain you.’
Claude flicked a raised eyebrow at Joe, smiled, bowed briefly in farewell and left.
‘Bahadur, my lad, why don’t you make yourself scarce for a while? Buzz off with Jaswant, why don’t you?’ She indicated a silent elderly Rajput dressed in the drab uniform of a royal forester who was standing in a corner of the room. He was unusually small and dark-skinned for a Rajput and such was the stillness of the man that it was some moments before Joe had even become aware of his presence.
Joe glanced around the book-lined room. Benches at work height took up three walls and Lizzie and her charge had been seated at tall stools surrounded by open books, bell jars, specimen cases and metal trays carrying rows of scientific implements. The ruler must have placed a valuable order with Zeiss, Joe thought, noting two further microscopes standing to attention on a bench. A blackboard in one corner carried a chalk drawing, showing, he guessed, the circulation of the blood. Joe smiled to see the recreation in miniature of what must have been the familiar academic surroundings of Lizzie’s youth.
‘Half an hour, that’s all, then we must get back to our specimens!’
With dignity Bahadur replied, ‘Certainly I will allow you to confer with the Commander, Miss Macarthur. I will return shortly as I wish to speak with him myself. Meanwhile I will go with Jaswant.’ He glanced at the forester patiently standing by. ‘Jaswant is our animal collector, Commander,’ Bahadur explained. ‘And he reports a hatch of kraits in the locality. I have never seen one. I should like to see one.’
He preceded Jaswant out of the room.
‘Ah!’ said Lizzie flatly. ‘Growing up, you see! Growing into his new position. Quite right too. Twelve years old now. That’s a man by Rajput reckoning.’
‘Lizzie! Didn’t the boy mention a krait?’
said Joe, alarmed. ‘I don’t know much but I do know that’s the most dangerous snake in India! Is this safe? I mean, ought you to let him . . .’
Lizzie smiled. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Joe! He’s perfectly safe with Jaswant. He’s a local man from the hills – a tribal, as some would have it – and no one knows the region better than he does. The two of us have practically raised that boy by ourselves with the occasional spurt of interest from his father or his mother. Jaswant won’t let him run into danger. He’d give his life for him.’
‘Like the Rajput nanny I heard about?’ suggested Joe.
‘Oh, that dreadful old story! Well, I’ve never had a child of my own so I suppose I can’t reliably comment but, yes, I too would go a long way to protect Bahadur. I’ve known him since the day he was born.’ Her eyes clouded but she went on crisply, ‘But then, he’s grown now and rather eager that we should all acknowledge the fact. So be warned, Commander! Though, I think you possibly got there before I did,’ she said with a sly sideways look.
She picked up the discarded apron, folded it and put it away then offered him a seat on a battered old sofa and while he settled himself, poured out glasses of whisky, Talisker, he noticed, casting a quick glance at the label. He had been about to refuse the customary whisky-soda pleading a surfeit of hock at lunch time but there was no refusing neat Talisker in a Waterford glass.
‘Slàinte mhath,’ she said, using the Gaelic toast.
‘Slàinte,’ he replied. He admired the pale liquid gold before taking a reverential sip. ‘Does this transport you to the shadow of the Black Cuillins of Skye, Lizzie?’ he asked.
The Palace Tiger Page 17