by Dawn Farnham
Guarding the king were rows of women, cross-legged and straight-backed, holding swords before them. They were beautiful, their brown skin covered with golden coats and pants, their dark hair crowned with golden headdresses and on their backs golden bows and arrows. Charlotte had never seen women warriors before, and her first view of the king was entirely eclipsed for her by these soldiers and by a group of dwarves and albinos crouching near the throne.
The king was clad in the jacket of a colonel in the Dutch army, complete with epaulettes and medals. Over his lower limbs he wore golden pantaloons and a sarong of brown and white. The Resident and, indeed, all the men had removed their hats as they went forward. The king rose to greet them. As he took his hand, the Resident bowed, and even the Duke removed his huge cockade hat. The Resident presented the letters of introduction from the golden tray, and the king passed them to his minister, who squatted at his side. The Duke and the Resident took their places on the dais; everyone else took their seats opposite the royal princes, who were dressed, rather indiscriminately, in the various ranks of the Dutch military. One, Nathanial pointed out quietly, wore a jacket designating him as an Admiral of the Fleet. Takouhi, Charlotte and Nathanial took up the last seats. Several princes ogled Charlotte with undisguised interest, some smiling at her with their pointed black teeth.
The Resident introduced his guests, while Mevrouw Snijthoff, seated next to the queen, spoke quietly to her. All seemed to be proceeding as decreed, when suddenly the Minister shuffled forward urgently and raised his hands in salute, waiting. After a short exchange the king rose and waved his hand towards Takouhi. Takouhi seemed unable to act until Nathanial whispered to her. The Susunan was now waggling his hand excitedly, giggling and saying something in Javanese.
“Go forward, Miss Manouk; he is calling for you.”
Takouhi rose and with hesitant steps made her way towards the throne. The king and queen came forward to speak to her. A loud murmur went round the court. The Resident rose, taken aback at this sudden shift in protocol. With a flourish, all the guests were ordered to make way for Takouhi to sit in the chair nearest the throne, the king himself shifting them along like so many children at a garden party. The Duke stared at Takouhi as he might a prize specimen of onion.
“It is because they have found out she is a daughter of a royal princess of the palace,” Nathanial said. “I’ll stake my life on it. The king is delighted to find any reason at all to displace or annoy his Dutch guests.”
The toasts began: “To the Susunan.”
Charlotte almost dropped her glass as a cannon boomed, seemingly just behind her head.
“To the King of the Netherlands.”
This time she was ready. And so it went, dozens of toasts, dozens of cannon volleys. “To the Susunan, to the Resident, the Resident’s lady, the Queens of the court, the Princes, to the ladies of Java and, finally—to Java!”
The gamelan burst forth. The Resident rose, helping the Duke to his feet and into the arms of the servants. As the Duke teetered off, the Resident took leave of the Susunan and shook hands with all the princes as he passed down the line, put his hat on his head, held out his arm for his wife and promptly departed. The royal couple retired, accompanied by their female bodyguard, dwarves and albinos. With bewildering speed, the courtyard emptied. An old woman came forward and spoke to Takouhi.
“She wants us to go to meet the ladies of the court,” Takouhi explained. Charlotte could come, but Nathanial must go. Already the lanterns and torches were being extinguished.
Takouhi and Charlotte followed the old woman down darkened passages until they passed, finally, into a large room where a dozen women were seated on a faded carpet.
They rose as one and came to Takouhi, their hands raised to their foreheads in salutation. When Takouhi addressed them in Javanese, the ice was broken and they all laughed and pulled her and Charlotte to sit with them, chattering and touching Charlotte’s white skin. A very old lady entered and sat amongst them. She took Takouhi’s hands and began to speak. Charlotte could make out nothing other than that this was an affecting tale, for Takouhi’s eyes at one moment filled with tears.
“This old lady was friend of my mother’s. They grew up together here in the palace. She was a Srimpi dancer, like my mother, a court dancer.”
The old woman continued to relate her tale, her audience at moments letting out a sigh or a gasp.
“My mother was daughter of king and selir, secondary wife. Selir is not high rank. Daughter have more rank, but not high like child of main wife. She tell about what happened.”
Two young princesses came next to Charlotte and took her hands to comfort her, perhaps not realising that Charlotte could not understand. The story had clearly reached a harrowing point, for several of the young girls were sobbing. Takouhi gripped the hands of the old woman, a tear rolling down her cheek. She turned to Charlotte.
“I cannot say like her, so sad, so terrible. She my mother’s good friend. When they sixteen, they called to dance for guests of my grandfather, the king. King like guests very much, spend all day eating and drinking with them. They are Resident and foreign guests, also my father. My father bring very good present for King. Two Spanish silver musket, Dutch lace, French sabre. They all drunk. Srimpi dancer is royal dancer, not ronggeng dancer, but all men drunk. All men and even king dance with girls. My mother very young, very pretty. My father want her and take her on his lap. She struggle and cry.”
Takouhi choked and, seeing her distress, the young princesses surrounded her.
“King think is joke, but if man touch her how can she marry good husband? He say she is his daughter, offer her to my father for wife. Joke maybe, but already she is dirty, shamed. Other women watching this and send for Minister. Minister try to speak to king, but what can he do? King angry and order imam to come, marry them. Take them on his knee, give blessing, laughing, drinking. My mother must obey king.”
Takouhi was calmer now, as she continued this tale. “Next day, big scandal. All palace shocked, but too late. My mother no more virgin girl. She married to my father and must go with him. She covered in dishonour. This old lady cry and cry for her friend but never see her again. This girl raised to be good girl, good wife. How can I tell you the shame of this?”
She looked more intently at Charlotte. “I think when my father wake up he cannot believe this. I think she is nothing for him. He want one drunken night with her, but she is a princess so he forced to take her. Poor child, poor my mother.”
She gripped the old woman’s hand and put her cheek against her cheek, reaching out, through this friend who had known her, to this ruined girl who had been ripped from her family and thrown upon an uncaring world.
“Mother body come back here. They bury her at old graveyard at Kartasura. We visit her.”
Charlotte nodded, and they rose to make their way back, walking silently through the corridors of shadow and flame in the footsteps of a ghost.
19
I have been observing,” Nathanial said the next day, “the time-honoured and quaint ritual of the dinner plates.”
He had strolled onto Charlotte’s verandah, where she was taking tea and attempting to read a very old, yellowing Dutch newspaper. She put it down and smiled at him.
“Do pray tell,” she said, pouring him a cup of tea.
Nathanial dropped into a chair, pushed back his sandy curls from his face and stretched out his legs, secretly enjoying for a brief moment the small fantasy that he and Charlotte were husband and wife enjoying a postcoital refreshment.
“Well, it seems that everyday protocol requires the Resident to send an array of cooked dishes—not less than four—to the palace for His Majesty’s delectation. This, apparently, he must do come rain or shine. This morning the royal dinner consists of several fowls roasted and boiled, vegetables, pastries and three kinds of fish. In return, I am informed, the Susunan may, from time to time, send back under his royal gold umbrella perhaps one or, if fortunate, two
oranges or other fruits of a particularly grotesque or interesting shape, as it may please the king. A fair trade, I think you will agree.”
Nathanial tucked smugly into Charlotte’s untouched breakfast, which consisted of an insipid broth, boiled tongue, calf’s head, fricandel, fish, bread, a plate of rancid butter, cabinet pudding, stewed fruit, preserved ginger, a variety of unidentifiable dishes, a bowl of fruits and a jug of claret.
“We are invited to dinner at the Residency to meet the young Pangeran, the prince from the rival court, who is visiting the Duke. Did you enjoy the little birthday party for the king last night?”
When Charlotte nodded, he added,
“Bear in mind that this ritual is carried out not once a year but every month, and one almost begins to feels sorry for Snijthoff.”
Charlotte was about to reply when Captain Palmer turned the corner of the verandah and removed his hat. Nathanial scowled.
“Mrs Manouk, good morning. I have come to ask if you would like to accompany our party on a little stroll around the town.”
He took her hand and put it to his lips in an almost possessive manner.
Nathanial spluttered and nearly choked on the fricandel. Palmer clapped him on the back so hard he almost sent him reeling from the chair.
“Is that better?” Palmer asked. “Saw a man choke to death once on a piece of bread. Ugly sight.”
Nathanial ached to punch Palmer in the nose, insolent dog that he was, but, as he stood a full six inches shorter than the American, who was, to boot, well built, he knew he would come off the worse in any brawl. The risk of such humiliation in front of Charlotte resolved him to choose the better part of valour, and he sat and waved away her affectionate concern.
Charlotte was not sure what to do. She could see Nathanial’s dislike of the Captain and was not fool enough to have missed his particular and pressing attentions. However, Takouhi was indisposed, and Nathanial was going to spend the day with a fellow naturalist. The prospect of a long morning on the verandah did not appeal, for she would only brood on this pregnancy. She was sure of it now, for the old feelings of nausea had struck her as she awoke. She therefore assented with a smile and rose to fetch her hat and parasol.
Nathanial’s mind was in turmoil. Let her go with this blackguard? But he had made his arrangements and could not go back on them. He would be away until the afternoon. He could only watch as Palmer took Charlotte’s arm in his, tipped his hat airily at Nathanial and left.
The three other Americans were waiting before the hotel. They paid their respects to Charlotte and were about to set off when Nathanial came racing around the corner with two of Tigran’s men.
“Your husband would not forgive me if I were not to give you some bodyguards. After all, he has expressly sent them to care for you. They will follow to be sure you are safe.”
Charlotte smiled at Nathanial, and he threw her a grin and turned. Palmer watched him retreat, his eyes narrow and his lips pursed.
They set off towards the river, the two guards following at a distance, passing through the small Chinese town until they reached a bridge. On the far side lay a grove of trees surrounding a Christian cemetery. Here, to her surprise, the three other men took their leave, and she realised that the Captain had intended to find himself alone with her in this isolated spot. She threw a glance at the escort behind and, reassured, went into the graveyard.
Charlotte disengaged her arm from Palmer’s and they wandered about the mounds and headstones. Some of the inscriptions on the tombstones forced a smile. There were the usual records of human vanity. The epitaph of one former Resident declared him, “Gentilhomme de Mecklenburg”. So that this should be understood by all, the words were repeated in Dutch and Malay. Another stone announced in letters of fading gold that the “Well-born Gentleman” who slept below had passed into a “Well-born Heaven.”
Charlotte saw letters in English and made her way to a stone erected by the comrades of a Scotch soldier who had fallen in 1816. Palmer read the epitaph.
Gaily I lived as ease and nature taught,
And spent my short life without a thought,
I’m surpris’d at death, that tyrant grim,
Who thought of me, that never thought of him!
They smiled, and Charlotte turned to leave. She realised suddenly that they had arrived at the end of the graveyard by the low back wall and there was no sign of the bodyguards, who, being Mohammedans, must not have wanted to enter the grounds. Palmer, too, saw the situation and took Charlotte’s hand in his and pressed it to his lips.
“How quickly death comes upon us. My dear Charlotte, you must allow me to tell you how much I admire you.”
She felt his arm move around her waist and struggled to free herself. Her parasol flew from her hands.
“Captain Palmer, you jest surely. You do not know me, and in any event, I am married. Please stop at once.”
For reply, she felt his lips on her neck. He was strong, and the arm at her back held her in a vise. He began to pull up her skirts.
She was suddenly afraid. She began to cry out, but he cut her off with his kiss, crushing her, grinding his teeth against her mouth. He tasted of tobacco and staleness, and she felt a wave of disgust. He had managed to raise her skirt, and she felt his hand on her thigh. He groaned loudly and suddenly picked her up and began to carry her into a thicket, pinning her arms to her sides. She was no longer in any doubt about his intentions and opened her mouth to scream but could emit nothing but a squeak. Then she heard voices raised. Palmer too heard and pulled his head away from the skin of her bosom. The two Sundanese bodyguards were standing outside the wall and drew their krisses, yelling at Palmer. One began to climb over the wall, and Palmer abruptly put her down and, in a trice, turned and walked quickly away.
Thank heaven, Charlotte thought, trembling uncontrollably. Her guards had followed from outside, skirting the wall. Recovering, she thanked them, but both men were clearly angry. She picked up her hat and parasol, but did not dare go back through the graveyard for she had no idea where Palmer might be lurking. His boldness and single-mindedness had caught her totally off guard.
She walked by the wall, the guards shadowing her, until she reached a pile of stones high enough for her to climb over. Her hands were still shaking, but with the help of the men, she escaped the confines of the burial ground and made her way back to the hotel.
There the guards gave a salaam and disappeared.
Still shaken, Charlotte decided that nevertheless she would rather do nothing about this. She intended now to stay well away from Palmer. If this were to come out, she feared not only what Nathanial would do but, more, what Tigran would do. She was not entirely sure that within Palmer’s reckless nature there might not be a tendency to enjoy duelling.
Sweating and dizzy, Charlotte returned to her room and locked her door. The sonorous buzzing of the cicadas was piercing. A bath refreshed her, and by the time she saw Takouhi and Nathanial again she felt composed and ready for the evening ahead, which, she was sure, Palmer would not dare attend.
In this surmise she was quite wrong. Turning into the gate of the Residency she saw him standing on the verandah, entirely at ease, talking to his friends. As they approached, he looked directly at her and smiled. She felt herself tense. There was not one ounce of regret or shame on his face; rather, he wore an expression of pleased conspiracy, as if they were secret lovers, as if in some manner she had encouraged him.
They went up the verandah steps, merely nodding in the Americans’ direction. To her amazement, Captain Palmer left his group and came towards them. Charlotte stared at him in disbelief. He bowed slightly.
“Good evening, Miss Manouk, Mrs Manouk—as usual, the most beautiful ladies here. Mr Fox, I hope you are well. It should be a pleasant evening.”
He looked directly at Charlotte.
“I so much enjoyed our walk today, Mrs Manouk. Thank you.”
She said nothing, trying to hold his gaze, but he was so
filled with arrogant insolence that she lowered her eyes, immediately angry with herself. He knew she would say nothing. How, she did not know, but he knew. He was a man who preyed on women and relied on their shame. She looked up.
“Captain Palmer, I am afraid I did not enjoy the morning so well as you. I was just writing to my husband about it.”
She paused and saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
“The oppressive heat, I mean, though of course the letter is not yet finished,” she said and moved into the Residency without a backward glance.
To their surprise, the Pangeran turned out to be handsome boy of around nine, with large, intelligent eyes and a mop of unruly black hair escaping from his headdress, which was so unusual it caught the eye immediately. Above his kerchief was a high, round hat made of black velvet, with points resembling asses’ ears on each side of the crown, a very large shade in front and a black tail hanging down behind. He wore a long, black velvet jacket with diamond buttons, a white baju and pantaloons with a loose sarong held by a girdle of gold and diamonds. His black silk stockings were filled with runs and holes. He slouched on his silver throne beside the Duke, a retinue clustered about his chair, quietly receiving introductions with not the slightest look of interest on his face.
As the drinks were served, he began to grow bored and pull at the gold braid on the Duke’s uniform. The Duke had been half-slumbering when thus assaulted and woke jerkily. The Pangeran took a glass of wine and drank it down with one gulp. As the dinner was announced, he jumped to his feet, pulling at the Duke’s arm and urging him to rise. At the long dinner table, Charlotte was glad to find herself far from Captain Palmer, next to Mevrouw Snitjhoff, who wanted to talk to these ladies from Batavia of things fashionable, as she termed it.