The White Rajah (1961)

by Monsarrat, Nicholas

  Durilla, his major-domo, a nervous bundle of curiosity, had been equally obsequious. ‘They say your servant Keston will return within a few hours, Tunku,’ he had said, when he helped Richard to remove his formal clothes and put on more comfortable attire. ‘It cannot be too early for me,’ Richard had answered grimly – but he left it at that. He was not going to make any move, at this juncture. Let other people make their moves, and he would then judge his response. Above all, let there be a move from the highest quarter in the land, and he would treat it on its merits.

  He had bathed, and rested, and played with the children in the nursery; when still no summons came from the Rajah, nor a message of any kind, he dined quietly with Sunara, and enjoyed her company as if this were an evening like any other evening. He could play this game of patience, with the best players in the world … Sunara, gauging his mood, had been loving attention itself; with her own hands she had served their meal of gulls’ eggs and cinammon rice (‘But make my portion small, for pity’s sake,’ he had pleaded, in groaning remembrance of the luncheon on board the Warrior), and afterwards had bathed his eyelids and rubbed his temples with sandalwood oil, to ease the stress of the day.

  ‘My brother pays us a visit tomorrow,’ he had told her at one point. ‘He will eat with me at midday. There will be others – three or four. I would like him to be entertained to the best of our resources.’

  Sunara smiled gently, divining what lay behind this. ‘I will see that he has a welcome he will remember all his life,’ she promised, stroking his brow. ‘It is not everyone who has a prince for a host.’

  ‘Perhaps the gold plate?’

  ‘And the goblets from Ethiopia.’

  How well she understood him, even to his childish urge to impress an elder brother … For a short space, he surrendered to this loving care. It was all that he needed, in the lull that marked the eve of the struggle.

  Before she withdrew, she asked: ‘What now, Richard?’

  ‘I wait,’ he said.

  ‘I am proud of you, Tuan,’ she murmured, and kissed him, and was gone.

  While he did wait, for a summons or a message, conscious all the time of the battle of wills which must be going on elsewhere, he had time to think more carefully of what the day had brought him, and what tomorrow might bring also. In his visit to the Warrior, he had been disappointed, but he had not been surprised; it was ridiculous, in cold thought, to suppose that a so-called prince of some ‘ragamuffin kingdom’ in the Far East could appear out of the jungle, go on board an English warship, and expect imperial support to confirm him in his rule. The Royal Navy, even in the person of his brother Miles, would have to think long and sober thoughts, before it gave any such aid.

  But Mr Possitter was another matter. In assessing him, and his proposal, Richard had tried to be honest with himself; it might be, as Miles had suggested, that it was his bleak, graceless personality, not his actual plan, which had brought from Richard so quick a reaction. But in all fairness, he knew this was not so. Mr Possitter’s scheme of rule from outside simply would not do for the people ofMakassang; if they could rise and choke to death the Anapuri, their own sanctified priests, what would they do to a lord in a white suit from half across the world, proclaiming that the blessings of some unknown queen (a woman on a throne!) were now to be conferred on their island? Richard knew exactly what they would do, and the prospect was horrifying.

  There had to be a transfer of power – so much had become certain. But for very love of Makassang, it could not be to Mr Possitter. It could not be to Kedah. It could only be to himself.

  Miles would help him, if he could show Miles that, of all the office-seekers, the men of ambition, he was the most promising, the most likely to succeed, the best-intentioned, the best.

  A step sounded in the passageway, precise, brisk; a step on a certain errand. Richard did not stir, nor even make ready his arms. In spite of all, fortune’s star shone brightly on him, at this strange moment. In his soul he knew that no one in the Sun Palace was going to kill him, tonight – and perhaps for many nights.

  It was his major-domo, Durilla, who entered with a great air of importance.

  ‘Tunku, his Highness summons you to audience,’ he said, with a bow.

  Richard, who had been reclining on a couch, smoking the last of a long cheroot, did not change his position. He looked at Durilla in silence before he answered: ‘Who brought this summons?’

  Durilla seemed startled. ‘Tunku, I do not know … It was given to me by another messenger … I will inquire, if you wish.’

  ‘Inquire,’ said Richard.

  Durilla returned within the course of a few minutes. ‘Tunku, I have inquired. It seems it was brought by a soldier of Captain Sorba’s guard.’

  ‘A soldier?’ repeated Richard incredulously, as if Durilla had said, a watersnake. ‘Since when was the Tunku of Makassang summoned to audience by a soldier? Send for this soldier’s commander.’

  ‘Yes, Tunku,’ said Durilla, unhappy. He was emboldened to add: ‘Tunku, the Rajah waits.’

  ‘I wait.’ answered Richard. ‘I will hear this summons from the lips of the guard-commander. Then I may come to believe it. But from no one else.’

  There was a pause, a silence, a deal of whispering; then a longer pause, while Richard, following his star, reclined immovable on his couch, waiting for others to make their move. Presently there came a clink of arms and accoutrements, and Captain Sorba appeared, at a brisk gait which must have been dictated by pressing urgency.

  ‘Tunku,’ he said, saluting.

  ‘You have a message?’

  ‘The Rajah summons you to audience, Tunku.’

  ‘What happened to this message, between the Rajah’s lips and my ears?’

  Captain Sorba, whose day had already been hard, swallowed. ‘Tunku, I could not leave my post. I sent a soldier to bring it to you, as has been done before. I intended no lack of respect.’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Richard hardly, ‘because I am in the same mood as this morning.’ He added, almost as an after-thought: ‘You had this message from the Rajah’s own lips?’

  Captain Sorba began to look apprehensive, as indeed he might. ‘Not directly, Tunku.’

  Richard waited, in silence. He would not go too far with this comedy, but he was in the mood to play it for what it was worth. ‘Who gave it to you, then?’ he asked, after a due interval.

  ‘Tunku,’ answered Captain Sorba, with extreme unwillingness, ‘I had the message from Colonel – from the Tunku Kedah.’

  ‘So …’ Richard nodded, as a reasonable man nods. ‘We could hardly trouble the Commander-in-Chief to deliver it in person, could we?’

  ‘No, Tunku,’ said Sorba, thankfully.

  ‘Yet I do not wholly believe this summons.’

  ‘Tunku?’

  ‘I will tell you why. I have not had the privilege of audience with the Rajah for several days now. On the last occasion on which I asked for it, he sent a message that he was indisposed. From that, I understood that I was in disfavour. I can scarcely believe my good fortune now.’

  Panic peeped from Captain Sorba’s eyes. ‘Tunku, I know nothing of this … I am not skilled in such things … But I swear that this is a true summons to audience … Tunku, the Rajah waits for you.’

  ‘Yet I cannot believe it. I might have trouble passing the guard. This might be my day for such trouble.’

  Sorba was in a sweat of anxiety. ‘Tunku, I swear it!’

  Richard shook his head. He felt strong now, and he made his resolve. ‘There is only one thing which would make me believe this summons–’

  ‘Sir, I cannot–’

  ‘Be pleased to tell Colonel Kedah of my doubts. They spring from the worries and difficulties of the past few days, and of this morning …’ He spoke carefully, a man taking his last cast of soundings before voyaging into deep water. ‘Tell Colonel Kedah, with my fraternal compliments, that I will not credit this summons, unless it is delivered to me by the vo
ice of John Keston himself.’

  He rose at that, dismissing Captain Sorba, refusing another word. He knew that he would get his way. And he knew that, in Makassang, he had now sat still long enough.

  A strong man could afford to be affable; indeed, he need be nothing else.

  ‘I am so sorry to have kept your Highness waiting,’ said Richard, with the customary bow of greeting. ‘My servant Keston was detained.’

  The Rajah, seated before a table in one of the smaller council chambers, flanked by Colonel Kedah, stared back at him without speaking. He was furiously angry – so much was easy to see; his papery hands were shaking, his old face set in an expression of the most baleful kind. Kedah was another angry man, though more controlled; at this moment, the Rajah need give rein only to his feelings, while Kedah had to think and plan as well. It would be interesting to see how soon one of them, or both, lost his anger and grew afraid … Finally the Rajah broke the silence, on a high note of impatience and complaint: ‘What foolery is this? When I summon you to audience, I do not want excuses and messages sent in return! How dare you presume to make this delay?’

  Richard allowed his eyebrows to rise a fraction. ‘There was no foolery, and no presumption intended. When I heard of your Highness’s summons, I could scarcely believe it, in the circumstances. I needed to verify the message, before I intruded on you. That was all that delayed me.’

  ‘You try my patience, Tunku!’

  ‘And after that,’ said Richard, on the same careless note, ‘I had to dress in a manner suitable for an audience. For that, I needed the help of John Keston.’ His eyes turned to Colonel Kedah. ‘His presence was most useful. But if I thank you for his release, that does not absolve from blame those responsible for his arrest.’

  ‘I released him,’ growled Kedah, ‘because after examination he was found to be innocent.’

  ‘A compliment, from such a great judge of innocence!’

  ‘Enough, enough!’ snapped the Rajah. ‘I am not amused by these exchanges.’ But he was examining Richard with more care, seeking to read his mind; if his own rage had not had its customary effect, there must be some potent reason which rendered it harmless. ‘You have something to tell me, Tunku.’

  ‘I? Nothing. I am here to listen to your Highness.’

  ‘I warn you not to play with me.’

  ‘I assure your Highness that I wait only to hear the purpose of this audience. But in fact, I have one question.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘May I have your Highness’s permission to sit down? I have had an arduous day.’

  ‘Be seated, then. What is your question?’

  Richard, taking his seat in a comfortable chair, looked up in surprise. ‘That was my question, your Highness. I wished to know if I might sit down.’

  This was altogether too much for the Rajah. His voice became a menacing snarl. ‘Tunku, I warn you for the last time! I will not be played with! And if you do not choose to speak, I will speak. But hear me well, and watch your answers! You went out to visit the ship without consulting me, or seeking my permission. Why?’

  ‘For a very simple reason. Your Highness was not receiving me. When I asked for an audience earlier, I was told that you were indisposed.’ He gestured towards Colonel Kedah. ‘This man told me so. I believed him. If he was not telling the truth–’

  Colonel Kedah, who had been silent and watchful, came to life. ‘That was in the matter of the Da Costas. You know that well enough. This was a new matter. You should have asked for a new audience.’

  Richard shook his head, as if in confusion. ‘Who am I, to guess when the Rajah will receive me, and when he will not? I cannot gaze into crystal balls! If I have not the ear of his Highness–’

  ‘Stop!’ shouted the Rajah. ‘You drive me mad with your stupid wrangling.’ He turned again to Richard. ‘We have laid this much bare – you went out to the ship, without my permission. You can have no business there, of any honest sort. The ship is foreign, unknown. Why did you go, and what did you do there?’

  ‘Why should I not go?’

  ‘Answer my question, Tunku! Why did you go out to the ship?’

  ‘I was lonely,’ said Richard.

  ‘Do not talk like a child!’

  Richard seized on the convenient word. ‘Indeed, I felt like a child, a neglected child … Your Highness would not receive me. My servant had been spirited away, and my greatest friend in the island, Amin Sang, had been thrown into prison. I lacked companions … Who could blame me, for going out to seek allies?’

  ‘Allies?’ The Rajah’s tone was sharp.

  ‘Just so,’ answered Richard. ‘Allies.’ Then he fell silent, content to let the moment rest upon this giant question mark.

  There was a pause, a most understandable pause; the word ‘allies’ might have been innocent, but with the bright picture of the Warrior and her gunboats present in all their minds, it lost its innocence and became, as Richard had intended, ominous. The Rajah, now sunk in thought, drummed his fingers on the table, darting an occasional glance at Richard; Colonel Kedah, busy with his devious plans, must have been considering, and rejecting, a score of questions, some natural, some self-betraying, if his face were anything to go by. But finally it was he who spoke.

  ‘Did you obtain these allies?’ he asked.

  Richard answered, as if he were discussing some minor subject: ‘I found some friends, certainly.’

  Kedah decided, as he thought, to pounce on this admission. ‘Why should you wish to make friends, of such a kind? On board an English ship? What has an English ship to do with Makassang? Why should you need friends from an English ship? Why should you suppose that they would give you a hearing, in the first place?’

  ‘Why, indeed?’

  ‘Answer me, Tunku!’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Richard abstractedly. ‘I was thinking of another matter. As I told you, it has been a long day. What was your question?’

  ‘You heard my question.’ said Kedah, between clenched teeth. ‘It concerned your need for friends. Why do you need friends from an English ship?’

  ‘I no longer need friends,’ said Richard.

  ‘What are we to understand from that?’

  ‘Is it so subtle? Presumably it means that I have found the friends I was looking for. But I can tell you – I need one more thing.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘It has been a long day,’ said Richard. ‘I need a glass of sangaree.’

  In the sulphurous silence, the Rajah said suddenly: ‘Send for it.’

  ‘Your Highness–’ began Kedah.

  ‘Send for it,’ repeated the Rajah. ‘And quickly.’

  There were no servants waiting on them, and no bell to hand. Kedah rose, with black brows, and walked from the room in search of some attendance. Richard, smiling faintly, watched him go, and then said: ‘Thank you, your Highness. My needs are greater than my courtesy, perhaps.’

  The Rajah, staring at him, asked: ‘Why do you provoke Kedah?’

  ‘I do not like him. In fact, I would go further – I hate his very soul!’

  ‘And you feel strong enough to show it?’

  ‘I feel very strong.’

  There was some loud shouting, on a note of anger, from far away; Kedah, having found a servant, was apparently less than satisfied with the man’s despatch. But presently he returned, and sat down, thunder in his face. After a hard-breathing pause, he said: ‘It is coming.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Your cursed sangaree – it is coming.’

  ‘You are most considerate.’

  ‘Do not rely on it … And now, let us hear of these allies of yours.’

  Richard held up his hand. ‘First things first. You must allow me my refreshment.’

  The moments ticked away; the silence, of Kedah at least, was positively murderous. Presently there were footsteps, unhurried, patient, and one of the palace wine butlers appeared, with a silver tray on which a tall glass of
sangaree reposed. Trained in court etiquette, he bowed first to the Rajah, then precisely towards a spot midway between Richard and Kedah. Then he stood waiting.

  ‘Hurry up!’ said Kedah, almost shouting. ‘Serve it, and leave us!’

  The wine butler, an old man whose expression at the best was one of simple deference to the wishes of the great, began to tremble. The glass and the tray rattled perilously as he looked from one to the other.

  ‘Serve it!’ shouted Kedah, nearly beside himself.

  ‘Tuan–’ whispered the old man, in anguish.

  ‘It is mine,’ said Richard. ‘And thank you kindly.’

  He took the glass, and, as the wine butler hurried fearfully from the room, raised it to his lips. The Rajah and Kedah watched him with terrible impatience. Finally Richard gave his verdict.

  ‘A trifle sour, for my taste,’ he said. ‘But it will serve.’

  ‘Do you expect me to fetch you another?’ inquired Kedah viciously.

  ‘Not for some ten minutes, at least.’

  ‘Insolent dog!’ shouted Kedah, provoked beyond his endurance. ‘Take care how you answer me!’

  ‘I am taking great care,’ answered Richard. ‘If I can make myself plainer, be sure I will do so.’

  Kedah’s single eye burned with fury; for a moment he looked as if he would start forward and run Richard through with his sword. Then the Rajah intervened.

  ‘Why cannot you be friends?’ he asked, querulously. ‘I am tired of this wrangling, and we waste time instead of making progress.’

  ‘Who could make progress,’ demanded Kedah, ‘with insolence such as this?’

  ‘Be silent!’ commanded the Rajah. ‘It was you who provoked it.’

  ‘Your Highness–’ began Kedah, astounded.