The Venus of Konpara

by John Masters

Jim said, ‘Why don’t you go now? That’s it! Go and hide somewhere until I can get away. After what happened to Rukmini we’d all spend days searching the jungles here for you. That would give you time to get anywhere. Out of India, even... I must finish the job here.’

  ‘Finish the job,’ she repeated. ‘Yes, that’s the way an artist feels, too. There’s nothing more important, not even living. I must stay, Jim... If only he’d shown that he needed me, just once...’

  That’s enough,’ he said. He took her in his arms. ‘I’ve got to get my clothes on and go back to the Rest House.’

  ‘Not just yet,’ she said, holding him tight. She blew out the lamp and led him slowly back to the bedroom and the bed.

  Chapter 25

  Charles Kendrick awoke quickly and called, ‘Who’s there?’ The voice answered in Hindustani, ‘A telegram, sahib.’ Kendrick slipped out of bed and turned up the lamp that burned dimly in a corner. The servant put his hand round the door, handed him the flimsy envelope from the Post and Telegraph Department, and murmured, ‘The peon is waiting, sahib.’

  Kendrick tore open the envelope.

  KENDRICK, CARE D.C. SAUGOR TIGRESS KILLED WOMAN GHARIAL THIS MORNING STOP SMITH AND I GOING THERE IMMEDIATELY MOHAN

  Handed in at the Deori Telegraph Office at ten p.m. They must have left Konpara before then.

  ‘No answer,’ he called.

  ‘Very good, sahib.’ The servant’s bare feet padded away down the corridor.

  Kendrick sat on the edge of his bed. Two o’clock in the morning. He had arrived here at nine p.m., and sat up till midnight talking about the Saugor man-eaters with Johnson, the Deputy Commissioner, and his wife. Tomorrow - today -he was due to meet three or four other men and a famous local shikari to get more information.

  Now Mohan’s impetuosity would spoil everything. Besides, he was walking into real danger by attempting to kill the tigress, ignorant as he was of the jungle. Smith should have prevented him; but Smith had no authority, except that of being English, and he did not attach enough weight even to that... Suppose Mohan were killed? Then what would happen to the plans?

  But surely the men who had moved the man-eaters north would protect Mohan, knowing that of all the ‘outsiders’ at Konpara neither Mohan nor himself must come, to any harm?

  He did not know. It was intolerable. He must go back. At once. Pray that Mohan had not yet had an encounter with the tigress. Meanwhile, send word, through the headman, that the man-eater must be led back, at once, to Saugor. Then he and Mohan could safely spend a week in the Konpara jungles looking for her.

  He put on his light dressing-gown and went along the passage. At his host’s door he knocked. Johnson’s sleepy voice answered, ‘Kaun hai?’

  ‘Kendrick here, Johnson. I’ve just had a telegram.’

  ‘Hold on. I’ll be right out.’

  The Deputy Commissioner came out a moment later, rubbing his eyes. Kendrick had a momentary glimpse of another shape in the wide bed. Johnson was ten years younger than himself, and already marked for advancement.

  Kendrick said, ‘It’s about the tigress. She’s killed again. I’m afraid I shall have to go back.’

  Johnson blinked. ‘But you’ve only just arrived...’

  ‘You’ve told me a great deal about her. I must go.’

  Johnson said, ‘Your horse will be foundered. You’d better take one of mine.’

  Now he was fully awake, and there was a hint of quiet-amusement in his voice. Kendrick knew why: he was living up to his reputation, of dashing hither and thither, of making a great commotion and achieving nothing. Let the young puppy grin. He’d be toughing on the other side of his face in a year or two’s time. He found no difficulty in controlling his voice as he answered, ‘Thank you. I’d be most grateful. My syce can follow more slowly with my animal, and return yours in a day or two.’

  ‘Fine ... Here, I’ll get the bearer to make some tea, and something for you to eat.’

  Kendrick returned to his room and began to dress. Twenty minutes later the bearer, in full livery, announced that the sahib’s breakfast was ready. In the dining-room he bolted down scrambled eggs and tea, filled his wallets with chicken sandwiches, and set off. It was the night of the full moon, and the light was very bright. In the west low, dark clouds, forerunners of the monsoon, hid the shape of the horizon.

  For three hours he rode at a steady, fast pace down the road towards Deori. Then the dawn came, and he rested himself and his horse beside a stream. At eight he swung again into the saddle, and at nine turned off the road, to head into the tangled hills on the old jungle road that led through Vishnuswara.

  Less than six miles from Konpara he was trotting along a narrow valley in the glare of noon when he saw Huttoo Lall seated under a tree beside the path ahead of him. The man rose to his feet as he approached, and made a profound obeisance, Kendrick slid to the ground and tethered the horse loosely to the tree. Glancing anxiously about him he noticed that the ground rose to left and rights and curves in the path prevented a long view in any direction. No one could see them unless he was already concealed in the area.

  ‘You came out here to meet me’ he said abruptly. ‘Why?’ He fought to control the nervous exasperation that was becoming increasingly common, increasingly near the surface.

  The headman said respectfully, ‘I heard that a telegram had been sent to Deori for dispatch to your honour.’

  ‘You know what was in it,’ Kendrick said. These people always knew. Knew more than he did.

  Huttoo Lall inclined his head. ‘I considered it likely that your honour would make haste to return to Konpara, and came out to inform you that our friends are trying to lead the tigress back to the Saugor jungles.’

  Kendrick nodded. ‘How are you doing it?’ he asked.

  ‘As before,’ the headman said. ‘It will be easier now, I think, because she has not heard the voice of her mate for several days. She will follow the call eagerly.’

  Kendrick pulled a sandwich from his wallet and began to munch it hungrily. ‘Now what?’ he asked. ‘Mohan Singh Sahib said he would use his servants to search the ground for the cave mouth. Is he likely to find it in time? Why don’t you tell me where it is? Then it would be easy for me to manoeuvre them away from it.’

  The headman ignored the last question, and said only, ‘The cave can be found in a moment by anyone who reaches a true understanding of why it was built, and by whom... We may have been too late in our decision about the tigress. To protect the cave, we intend to take further action.’

  ‘What?’ Kendrick asked.

  ‘It will be - final,’ the headman said.

  Kendrick glowered at him. ‘When, then?’ he snapped.

  ‘It will take four days to put into effect, Sahib. The preparations are already in hand. But it is a dangerous plan that will cause much harm to many. It would be better if the search could be prevented by other means.’

  ‘We’ve tried everything,’ Kendrick muttered.

  The headman said, ‘The cave will never be discovered by the means now being used. It is a matter of inspiration, as I told your honour. Two people among you have the capacity to receive that inspiration, at any moment.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The lady Rukmini, and your honour’s mem-sahib.’

  ‘My wife?’ Kendrick cried. ‘What does she know about it? What inspiration can she get, moping about with her paints and her pencils all day long? She’s not interested, and if she were she doesn’t have a brain in her...’ He stopped, breathing hard.

  The headman said soothingly. ‘Your honour knows her much better than any. As your honour doubtless has some reason for permitting her to defile your bed with Foster Sahib.’

  Kendrick’s mouth went dry, his heart thudded painfully, and for a moment he thought he would faint. ‘Who?’ he whispered.

  ‘Foster Sahib.’

  For a moment he understood. For a moment he acknowledged the years when she had tried to reach him with her love. For
a moment he saw himself, at last, giving her something of value - a warm and generous release. Then the fear closed down. The future opened like a lividly coloured landscape.

  She would run away with Foster. The story would spread like lightning, and with it the scorn and the laughter. Rukmini had engineered it all, to destroy him.

  The headman said, ‘I was saying, lord, that our plan was dangerous. Should the two ladies suffer harm - it would not be necessary to put it into effect.’ Kendrick waited, licking his lips. The headman said, ‘In the corner of your study I have left a package containing a Gond bow and two poisoned arrows. If the ladies should be found with the mark of the arrows in them, the Gond village will be willing to take the punishment.’

  Kendrick felt his cheek begin to twitch. He put his hand up to it. ‘You want... expect me to commit murder?’ he stammered.

  The headman looked at him with a deep, long, cold stare. ‘Your honour knew that we intended to sacrifice the lady Rukmini, though we love her. What difference is there, to your soul, if it is your hand that strikes, not ours?’

  Kendrick said, ‘Why don’t the Gonds do it themselves, if they are to be blamed in any case?’

  The headman said, ‘They will not be able to approach close enough, now that suspicions have been aroused. Your honour will... Since no individual Gond will be found on whom to fasten the guilt, it will be a collective punishment that your honour will be forced to impose. A heavy punishment, doubtless. Crippling fines, forced labour. The Gonds will accept it.’

  Kendrick cried, ‘I haven’t said I am going to do it.’

  The headman said patiently, ‘I am trying to save life, sahib. Our own action will involve everyone in Konpara. If your honour can remove the women, only two will the instead of many, and those two...’

  ‘They deserve to,’ Kendrick muttered, but he was cold, and now his hand trembled too.

  The headman said, ‘Today is the first day after the full moon. We act on the fourth day. Your honour must make plans to be away from Konpara at that time.’

  ‘I can go with Mohan Singh Sahib to Nowgong the day after tomorrow,’ Kendrick said. ‘We can tell the A.G.G. about the Venus. There are other problems I can discuss with him.’

  ‘Very good, your honour,’ the headman said respectfully. ‘Unless you succeed before then.’

  Kendrick swung into the saddle. ‘We have not met,’ he said. The headman bowed. Kendrick dug his heels into the horse’s flank and cantered away from him.

  Had the headman smiled faintly? The swine did not believe that he could do anything on his own, when it came to the point. Murder. Perhaps he couldn’t. Before, he had seemed to be a spectator of a drama, a tragedy, that would run its course without him. He was required only to hold his tongue. Now they were dragging him on to the stage, pushing weapons into his hand, and telling him to act his part. But he did not know what his part was.

  Cuckold, and laughing-stock, and total failure. That was his part His flesh began to crawl with the strength of his hatred for the two women. He would try. He would take the arrows and the bow and see if opportunity offered, and, if it did, two arrows would finish everything. If only they could share one body, so that a single arrow would kill two treacherous lustful women in one; and, in that one, all women.

  Chapter 26

  Mohan awoke with a cry and a start, his hand flying to the rifle beside him. A lantern burned dimly in the corner. Smith and the lambardar of Gharial stood there, talking in low voices. The lambardar’s wife crouched near him. On the floor stood a brass bowl of milk, and a broad leaf heaped with vegetable curry and cold rice. Her voice was humble. ‘Poor fare, Suvala, for tiger hunters.’

  He roused himself and spoke without looking at her, as etiquette demanded. ‘No king could eat more nobly, or in nobler company.’

  He began to eat Smith said, ‘Half an hour to dawn. I expect Kendrick has had the telegram, and is on his way.’

  ‘He can’t reach here until this afternoon,’ Mohan said. ‘We’ll have her by then.’

  He was not frightened. He must kill the man-eater before Kendrick came. ‘What was done about the woman whom the tigress killed yesterday?’ he asked.

  The remains were brought into the village, and will be burned today,’ the lambardar said. ‘I was sure that she would not return to them.’

  Mohan nodded. It was nearly time to go.

  As they left the house the lambardar pushed the thorn zareba out of the way with a long spade. The first pale green-grey light tinged the sky above the jungles in the east Mohan loaded the rifle carefully, and walked out of the village, Smith at his side. Here and there a face watched from a half-shuttered window, a half-barred doorway. A woman’s voice called, ‘God be with you, lords,’ and then they went at a steady, careful pace into the dim, shadowless tunnel of the jungle at dawn. A ground mist hung under the trees and there was no wind.

  Just over two hours after leaving Gharial they reached the scene of the tigress’s last attack, the sun now bright and hot. A dozen vultures rose heavily from the river bank ahead, and flapped up into the trees. Mohan fingered the rifle.

  ‘The mare,’ Smith said briefly.

  Mohan carefully examined the country. The jungle was featureless for half a mile, then rose gradually eastward to the crest line where they had first seen the torches and heard the cries of the men from Gharial. A spur of the upper Konpara plateau swept down from the main hills to form that gentle crest. Otherwise - nothing; and everything - rock and tree, grass and thorn, and the sun throwing hard shadows athwart the winding path.

  Smith rose from his knees. ‘Arterial blood,’ he said. ‘You must have hit her a bit higher than I thought.’

  He moved across the path in the direction the tigress had taken. ‘Here it is again ... ‘I’ll track her, as best I can. I suggest we do it in bounds - first I’ll go forward, then you come up to me.’

  He licked his finger and held it up. A breeze had risen with the sun, out of the east, but it was still very slight ‘Watch the breeze all the time,’ he said, ‘and remember she’ll only attack from downwind. Ready?’

  He moved off parallel with the path and about a hundred yards from it, on the left. After a few moments he stopped and pointed down. Obviously another blood splash. Mohan had counted his paces - twenty-seven from the previous blood marks. He went forward to join him. Smith moved on.

  Mohan waited under a tree, his head turned downwind. Smith covered thirty paces, stopped, and signalled briefly with his big staff. Mohan went forward, and again took up position.

  Now they did not speak any more. The rhythm, of the stalking took possession of them. Smith stepped slowly, staff in hand, examining the ground. Mohan waited, his back to tree or rock, his eyes downwind. Smith stopped. Mohan moved.

  Sometimes Smith found the blood streak directly under his feet Sometimes, after taking thirty-five paces, he had seen nothing. Then he pushed a twig into the ground and walked in careful arcs round it. Usually, within five minutes, he found more blood.

  An hour passed. Two, Three, Four... Mohan’s throat was clogged with mucus. Smith moved steadily forward through the blinding yellow glare of sun and jungle grass. Mohan’s bloodshot eyes began to falter, so that, when Smith moved into a patch of shadow, he totally disappeared, and Mohan broke into a run, only to have him spring into view as his weary eyes jerked back into focus.

  They had long since left the path. The tigress had followed them for a little less than a mile last night. Then she had lain down and made a long attempt to staunch the slow jet of blood from her wound. Long streaks of blood marked the hard earth, the grass was flattened over a small compact area, and they found many white and yellow hairs, some still wet with spittle. From that point the trail had led a little north of west, generally back towards the upper plateau above Konpara.

  It was noon, and they rested in the most open place they could find, where there was no cover for the tigress they stalked - or who stalked them - and no shelter from the fu
ry of the sun. Mohan drank greedily from the bottle in his haversack, and passed it to Smith, Smith wetted his lips and handed it back. ‘Go on’, Mohan said. That’s not enough.’

  ‘That’s all I need,’ Smith said.

  ‘You didn’t take any,’ Mohan said, almost angrily.

  ‘No,’ Smith admitted, ‘I didn’t. I have learned a great many peculiar accomplishments in recent years. Once I went thirty days without water --’

  ‘In the hot weather?’ Mohan interjected.

  ‘In the hot weather, near Bareilly,’ Smith said. ‘I can do without water. I was supposed, at the same time, to learn impassivity - imperviousness to human problems. There, I failed. Or I wouldn’t be here.’

  He rolled over and went sound asleep. Then it was Mohan’s turn. He tried to sleep but could not. After ten minutes he got up. ‘Let’s get on.’

  Smith said, ‘We’re seven miles from Gharial now, and getting further away at about one mile an hour, as long as she keeps going in this direction. But we’re approaching the Gond village on the upper plateau at the same rate. By sunset we won’t be more than two miles from it.’

  ‘We’ll get her before then,’ Mohan said.

  ‘We must,’ Smith said. ‘An hour before sunset. I’m going back to Konpara.’

  ‘Why?’ Mohan asked.

  ‘I told you. I think Rukmini is in danger.’ He loves her, Mohan thought. And she loves him. He felt very tired.

  They had rested near a blood streak. Smith took up his unwearying, careful search. Soon he gave the signal and Mohan moved forward across the small rocky clearing to join him. Heavy jungle began again on the far side of the clearing.

  Just before he reached Smith he heard a distinct distant roar. He turned his bead quickly in me direction he thought it had come from. A minute later, he heard it again. He asked Smith, ‘Did you hear that?’ He noticed that Smith had not turned his head at the distraction, but was steadily scanning the rocks and the grass downwind. He answered now, still without breaking his concentration, ‘Yes. It’s not the tigress.’