Flowers in the Blood

by Gay Courter

  37

  The trap was a four-sided stockade constructed of split boards supported by rough logs that were bound with hide rope to the sturdiest trees. Though the barricade appeared flimsy, the very flexibility of the structure enabled it to resist me pounding of a captured beast by yielding to its onslaught. A curve in the river on one side and sharply rising cliffs on the other bounded the area. Beyond, on a hill overlooking the corral, all the guests, except the younger men participating in the roundup, were atop elephants—four or five to a howdah to spare as many beasts as possible for the work ahead. I sat behind the maharani and her attendant.

  “What if the wild elephants notice us?” I asked Amar's mother.

  “They say that elephants rarely look up. I suppose that is because they are already so tall they doubt anything higher is of interest to them.” Although I didn't reply, I realized she might have been describing herself and the maharajah.

  After an hour we heard the distant shouts of the herders. The elephants were coming! The galloping of their heavy hooves thundered through the forest. Leaves trembled like warning rattles. Coconuts fell from swaying palms. Their tamed brethren swayed restlessly. Then a leading family of tuskers came into view. Halting at the riverbank, the largest squirted trunkfuls of water over his back. A cow lifted her baby. Blissfully unaware of their impending fate, two older calves pranced in the water.

  “The one in front is a female,” Amar's mother explained, as more elephants arrived. “As in Travancore, elephants are a matriarchal society.”

  “The large ones on the outskirts must be the males,” I commented.

  “Right. Their function is to procreate, not to lead.” She grinned slyly. “As it should be, don't you think?”

  Trumpets blared forth, announcing the maharajah's approach from behind the advancing horde. Once across the river, Amar directed a line of kumkis, his trained elephants, into a flank formation to prevent escape. Scenting danger, the lead cow bellowed madly. The others in her herd charged to the right, then to the left, looking for a breech. Seeing none, they lunged into the kumkis. For one terrible moment it appeared the herders could not prevent the marauding elephants from breaking the line. Prodded by their mahouts with the iron-tipped ankuses, the trained beasts held their ground. The confused wild herd reversed direction, and this time the line followed them toward the stockade and formed into a funnel shape as they advanced. The enclosure was well-camouflaged with fronds and bamboo, giving them the sense they were heading into acres of jungle.

  When the herd was almost beneath us, the lead cow paused to sniff the air. A bull trumpeted. The maharani and I gasped in unison. From every side the beaters and clappers converged. Coolies with flaming torches formed a wide outside band. The kumkis stood firm. More than forty elephants passed through the narrow mouth of the funnel, and in so doing, crossed the line between freedom and captivity.

  A drawbridge closed in the compound, locking inside a dozen of the most experienced kumkis and their mahouts. When the dust cloud from the stampede subsided, I could see Amar and some of his favorite courtiers in the center of the ring. Dennis Clifford and the rest of the guests who were assisting formed the next ring of protection. Darting eyes and excited grins betrayed their feelings, but they did not speak.

  Because I had been told that elephants were never killed, only roped for taming, I was unprepared for the violence that followed. Mahouts furiously jabbed the heads of the wild elephants with their ankuses. Blood poured down the wrinkled faces, blinding the beasts even as they lunged at the rickety fences. The yelps of the animals mingled with the mahouts shouting, “Maro, Maro! Strike, Strike! Dant do! Spike him!”

  Kumkis worked in tandem as monitors on either side of each newcomer. Leaning with their full' strength, they impeded the struggles of their wild brothers while the ropers crept forward with their nooses of oiled hide and slipped them on the hind legs of the captives. Each time a roper managed to hobble an animal, onlookers on the other side of the fence shouted, “Arre! Arre! Hai-yai!” partially to congratulate their coworker, as well as to distract the wild elephants while the roper clambered back up the hindquarters of his kumki to avoid the murderous feet of the hysterical tusker.

  The choreographed dance of lithe men who leapt in and out between the massive moving columns of stamping flesh proceeded until the largest male vented his outrage. One powerful kick snapped his foreleg stay as if it were twine. The nearby kumkis stumbled backward while any mahouts on the ground scrambled to safety. The furious animal swung around, looking for an exit. As he did, something caught his eye and he looked up. Perhaps the bright clothes of the ladies or their perfumed scent riled him further, for he lunged into one of the main supports of the corral. Three or four poundings brought logs tumbling like twigs. They snapped beneath his feet. A wall crashed forward. Six kumkis moved into position to prevent the rest of the structure from collapsing, while the ropers rushed for ladders, gateways, and tree branches. Our own mount trumpeted and stamped, as did several more on the hill, but with tender words and familiar prods, our handlers calmed them.

  The maharajah, who had been positioned on the far side from where this event was taking place, thought quickly. Rallying the mahouts in his area, he directed a frontal attack on the brute. His kumkis sensed the severity of the situation and moved to check any movement of the monster while the maharajah's troops drove him back with blows and spear jabs in his face and flanks. The circle tightened around him. He backed away until his hind legs became so crossed, he lost his balance and crashed to the ground. Thankfully, nobody was crushed under the heaving body. Once the rogue was down, brave men roped his neck and feet with double and triple bands.

  “Amar was wonderful!” I said to his mother.

  “He always has to be in the middle. He was never content to sit on the sidelines. That's why I believe he will make a good ruler.”

  “I thought he did not want that job,” I said before realizing I might have spoken out of turn.

  The maharani stretched her sinuous neck proudly. “Everyone wants to be the first. It is human nature. It is what helps us survive.” Her hands finished her words as obviously as her voice did.

  Shouts rose in the visitors' gallery. “Look, someone is coming!”

  “It is a palace courier,” the maharani said as the messenger galloped up to Amar and handed him a document. He waved to his mother and sent the courier in our direction.

  In a few minutes a panting man bowed before us. “Joyous news. The wife of the maharajah has just given birth to a daughter.” The ladies on their elephants applauded.

  After a slow descent on the slippery rock trail, we were back in the valley and a safe distance away from where the last captives were being bondaged. I transferred to Dennis Clifford's howdah.

  “What will happen now?” I asked the Quilon resident.

  “No doubt the maharajah and maharani will return to Trivandrum ahead of their guests.”

  “Oh, that is too bad” is what I replied, while I thought: How wonderful! The festivities would continue, but Amar's attentions would no longer intimidate me.

  Two days after our exhausting journey back to the capital, a messenger arrived at the Orchid House with a letter from the palace. Amar was requesting me to meet him in the elephant stableyard to see how the captives were faring. Jemima, who had not recovered from the ordeal entirely, had been advised to remain in bed. Her husband had returned to Quilon to attend some urgent matter. Other than Yali, there was nobody who could accompany me. I knew I could not refuse Amar's invitation without a good excuse, but I thought if I might find his mother, she once again would be my ally.

  I sent a message to the maharani that I would be visiting the stable later that afternoon and wondered if I might stop by to see how she was feeling. The return response was affirmative.

  Gardenias and camellias scented her walled garden, where we drank cool fruit drinks from coconut cups. Laughing like old friends, we compared aches and pains from th
e hard ride home. I shared my concern for Jemima's health and she promised to send her physician over.

  “It must be time for me to view the elephants,” I said warily. “Would you care to accompany me?”

  “No, thank you. I saw the captives this morning. They are adjusting well.”

  “Even that rebellious tusker?”

  “He is in a separate enclosure.” Her mouth curved upward without smiling. “In the end, he may turn out to be the finest specimen of the lot.” Her piercing eyes bore into me. “All true princes must have high spirits that resist initial attempts at taming. It will take an experienced mahout to gentle him without ruining his temperament.”

  Was this also an explanation for her son's behavior in the camp? If so, who would tame him? Wasn't the Maharani of Travancore supposed to be the wise reins for the impetuous prince? No answers were forthcoming, and I left her presence dreading a reunion with her son.

  As my cow-cart entered the stableyard, I noticed that many of the guests of the hunt also had assembled. Once again I had misinterpreted the situation. Amar had not summoned me for a private interlude. My imagination had taken hold because of the repugnant way he had touched me. Perhaps my uneasiness had made me too vigilant. After all, what had Amar ever done but try to please me? Even The scene at the tent could have been innocent. The lonely maharajah said he desired to talk with me. Was it so terrible, that he had wanted to touch my fine hair, which was so different from that of his race? Had my own resistance irked him into behaving as he did? I sighed as I joined the others. Everything was so much more difficult on my own. Surely when Edwin returned, my worries would be set right.

  Whereas many of the smaller elephants roamed the pens with loose bindings on their hind legs, the larger tuskers were bound on all four legs, and two large bulls were tethered between trees by neck and leg ropes. Kumkis strode freely through the herd to keep them calm. Mahouts sauntered about, speaking softly to their charges. Keepers offered buckets of gur, or raw sugar, to two mothers and youngsters. Even the most reluctant cows found the flavor irresistible.

  Up close, the animals were quite distinctive. Their faces ranged from alert to curious to angry to dull. Here and there some troubled types stood off on the side, sullen and depressed. A small sugar-swilling female was quite lively. While she was occupied with her gur bucket, a wizened old mahout climbed up behind her head and gave her a few gentle prods. She flapped her ears, but he was not unseated.

  “She'll be the first out on her own,” predicted a knowing voice behind me. “Just like a woman to make the best of a bad situation.”

  I turned and smiled at the professor. “Hello. How nice to see you here, Professor Dent.”

  “And you, Mrs. Salem. I take it you have quite recovered.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well, it shall not be long now before your cure arrives.”

  “My cure?”

  “Your husband, madam. If my calculations are correct, he should return this week, or the next at the latest.”

  “How could you know?”

  “I don't. It is an educated guess.”

  “Since nobody around here is as educated as you, I certainly hope you are right,” I said, grinning.

  The mahouts urged six of the kumkis to the edge of the corral and goaded them to raise their trunks in a royal salute as Amar appeared on the elephant I recognized as his beloved Shankara. She was decked out in a saffron garment with a crimson fringe. Resplendent in a. cream satin tunic with ruby buttons, the maharajah rode around the outer circle greeting his guests.

  “In less than a year, almost every one of the newcomers will have mastered more than twenty-five commands and will have become useful citizens of the state,” the professor explained.

  “Why do they do it? Why don't they rebel?”

  “Elephants are intelligent beasts who find pleasure in service. They receive excellent rations and accommodation, they may live in family groups, they are never mistreated. Where would you prefer to live? Wild in the jungle, where you must forage for your food and fight for survival, or in the comforts of the Orchid House, where servants minister to your every need?”

  I was about to say something about the Orchid House being another form of captivity, but I caught myself and replied, “I am not an elephant, thus I cannot speak for them.”

  “Indeed you are not!”

  The professor and I were laughing the moment Amar approached us. As we greeted him respectfully, I found the sunlight hurt my eyes. I had to shade them as I answered Amar's questions about my health and the welfare of the Cliffords.

  Amar signaled his mahout to lift me up into his howdah. “So you won't strain your eyes,” he explained. I wanted to resist, since I did not wish to be singled out in front of this group, but before I managed an excuse, I was atop the elephant. “Now, isn't that better, Sassy? Come, let me show you my favorite acquisition.” We plodded around to the far side of the stables, where the mammoth rogue tusker was bound to the wall with four strands of chains. “He's coming around. Certain herbs are being added to his feed to make him more docile. By next week he'll be hobbled with ropes. We are certain he will respond quite well. The recalcitrant ones who refuse to eat are the ones who may never adjust.”

  “Is he your favorite?”

  “No, look over there!” In a far pen, a single female was sitting in a deep pool, showering herself with arcs of water. “Some of the mahouts think she may be expecting a calf. In any case, she is a magnificent specimen. Young and yet fully grown, and with the sweetest face I have ever seen. What do you think of those adorable eyes? She was very balky at first, but I think we can win her over.”

  “She is splendid,” I agreed. I thought the creature emanated an eerie understanding of her position as she stared back at us.

  He patted his mount's flank. “She reminds me of old Shankara here. That is why I have decided to give her to my nephew, the boy who will become the next maharajah.” Amar turned to me as if his decision required my approval.

  “Your nephew should be thrilled.”

  “He's too young to understand, but my sister will be pleased. Mothers . . . sisters . . . they keep a man busy, don't they?”

  Once again he had not mentioned his wife or his new baby. Then it occurred to me the maharani had not said anything about the birth of her granddaughter either. Had I made an error in etiquette by not offering my congratulations first? I could remedy that now. “How is your daughter?” I asked.

  “A scrawny child who hardly sleeps.”

  “Has your wife recovered?”

  “I believe she has.”

  His flatness disturbed me. “I would like to see the baby. Is that permitted?”

  “Yes, if that is your fancy.” He saw my confused expression and tilted his head. “You must remember, this little girl has no status. She is not a princess, which is really a blessing. In Travancore a maharajah's daughter has all the advantages and none of the responsibilities.”

  “Then you are happy about her birth.”

  “Of course, why shouldn't I be?” He seemed distracted by something the elephant in the pen did, then turned his attention back to me. “Now, I require your help on an important matter. What am I going to name her?”

  “How can I help with that?”

  “Surely you have some ideas for names. Most women do. I wanted something different. What would be a good Jewish name for a female?”

  “You would not want the daughter of a maharajah to have a Jewish name, would you?”

  Amar roared with laughter. “I am not talking about the baby. I am talking about the elephant!”

  The switch stunned me. When I recovered, I spoke evenly. “We use mostly biblical names like Ruth, Esther, Hannah.”

  “Who was Dinah?”

  “The daughter of Jacob and Leah.”

  “Does it have a meaning?”

  “In Hebrew, it means something like 'vindicated.' “

  “That hardly sounds suitable for
a lovely woman. What would you have to resolve or avenge?”

  My heart pounded. I had never thought of my name having anything to do with my life. It was pleasant, euphonious, went well in both the English and Baghdadi communities. It had the same lyrical ending as Luna and Flora, tying me into the female line of my family. Could my name have been an omen for the future?

  The maharajah was still speaking to me, but I stared at him without answering, again unsettled by his resemblance to Sadka. At that moment, riding atop a maharajah's elephant across the subcontinent from Calcutta, I realized how far I had come from my childhood pledge to search out Nissim Sadka and make him pay. How ridiculous that cry of revenge seemed now. Men like Sadka and Amar did as they pleased, and no one ever punished them. All I could do was avoid people like them in the future.

  Amar's voice became more insistent. “I could name the elephant Dinah.”

  “Oh, no!” I shouted so loudly that Shankara flapped her winglike ears.

  “I was not serious.”

  I blanched.

  “Any other suggestions?” As I shook my head, he persisted: “Who was the leader of the Jews?”

  “There were Abraham and Moses . . .”

  “Did they have wives?”

  “Moses was married to Zipporah.”

  “Zipporah. I like that. A proud name, a strong name. Thank you for the idea.”

  My head was beginning to pound. I wished I hadn't come after all. Even though the maharajah's behavior had been gentlemanly, once again I had ended up feeling agitated in his presence.

  “I am pleased I could be of assistance. Now I must return to see how Mrs. Clifford is faring.”

  “Yes, of course. My mother told me she was not well.”

  I was amazed how quickly my message had been passed on. Amar must have been told of my visit to the maharani moments after I left her wing of the palace. I reminded myself not to assume that either kept secrets from the other.