The Temple Dancer

by John Speed

  The pewter dinner plates, the wine pitchers, and Victorio's empty flagon were scattered haphazardly around the floor. Da Gama stooped down and righted a silver pitcher. He looked at the blanket covering Victorio. What happens to us now, he wondered.

  At that moment the sentry burst in and handed Slipper a pale green plate.

  Taking it, Slipper hurried around the tent, picking up spilled pieces of mutton, laying them on the plate. Though he seemed completely sure of himself, Da Gama had no idea what he was up to. Slipper shook a few drops of wine from the nearly empty pitchers on the plate as well. "Look," he said, holding the plate close to a lamp.

  A violet stain had formed on the surface. "Wine," Geraldo said. "The wine has stained the glaze."

  Slipper glared at him, and then tilted the plate so its contents slid to the tent floor. Again he held the plate so they could see.

  The pale green glaze was streaked-everywhere the food had been, the plate was stained. "This is Chinese celadon. The sultan uses it for his meals. Its property of darkening when touched by poison is well known. It even breaks in two if the poison is very strong."

  Da Gama took the plate. "Someone poisoned Victorio?" he said, working it out.

  "Deoga, yes. Someone poisoned Master Victorio's food and wine."

  "But who?"

  Slipper smiled. "Who indeed? I shall consider this tomorrow. For now, I'm off to bed. This episode has quite exhausted me." He made a great show of yawning. "There's nothing more to be done at the moment. Let's try to sleep." He bowed, but turned back just before he left. "Has anyone told the women?" Both men shook their heads. "Well, don't." With that he left.

  Geraldo stared after him. He looked at Victorio, then to the plate in Da Gama's hands, and finally into Da Gama's eyes. "He suspects the women?"

  "If they're suspects, then we must be, too," Da Gama said, pulling at his ear.

  "Why should we be suspects? Why should I be?" Geraldo replied. "The eunuch had much to gain ... what about him?"

  Later, of course, Da Gama realized his mistake. Geraldo slept in the men's tent, where Slipper was already snoring. Da Gama should have done the same. But he hated tents, and the night air was cool and fresh, and after his terrible day Da Gama wanted to be alone. A few yards from the campfire he found his saddle and his pack, and he spread a blanket on the ground. He stared at the immense bowl of stars above him, and his eyelids fluttered.

  He was floating on his back in an ocean of milk. Clouds billowed in the bright sky, but then he saw that they were not clouds, but thousands of white cranes, darting through the air in perfect unison, like schools of fish. From their midst a star appeared, bright as a blue pearl. It fell toward him slowly, and opened to reveal an old woman not much larger than a child. Who are you? Da Gama asked.

  The old woman's eyes shown blue as a twilight sky. "What do you mean to do with my daughter's headdress?"

  Da Gama meant to say, What business is it of yours?... He meant to say, She's not your daughter. But unexpected words came from his lips ... "I mean for her to keep it. It is hers. "

  The old woman smiled. What teeth she still had were white as pearls. "You say well. Ask a favor."

  Tell me your name.

  "Gungama. Ask another favor. "

  Give me hope.

  "I give. Ask another favor. "

  Give me respite from my loneliness.

  "I give. Ask one more favor. "

  Help me set things right. It has all gone wrong.

  Gungama lowered her ancient lips and kissed Da Gama's cheek. "You ask well. I give. I give. I give. But danger comes, Deoga. Wake up! Wake up quickly!"

  Da Gama's eyes sprung open. Around his makeshift bed he found a ring of guards holding swords to his neck

  Da Gama lifted his hands slowly to show that they were empty. Slipper pushed into the ring of guards with Geraldo at his back. "Take him up and bind him," the eunuch ordered. Two of the guards heaved Da Gama to his feet. One tied his hands behind his back, while the other took his pistolas. "Now put him in the tent."

  "What are you doing, Senhor Eunuch?" Da Gama cried out. "I did not hurt Victorio!" The guards shoved him to Slipper's tent.

  "Be sure that I believe you, Deoga," Slipper piped.

  Once through the entrance of the tent, the guards pushed him to the floor. While one held a sword edge to his neck, the other bound his feet. After they checked his bindings, both left.

  Da Gama struggled for a while, but the ropes were too tight. He seethed but could do nothing except wait. He heard noise outside the tent; grunts and shouts, and then a woman's scream.

  After a few moments, the tent flap opened yet again. The guards who had bound him now led Lucinda in at sword point. Slipper followed. "There's your poisoner," he said softly.

  "Lucy?"

  "Even her, Deoga. I'm sorry to bind you up, for you have been so courteous to me, but if you decided to help her, who could stop you? You're much too dangerous, and she must not escape justice."

  In her slip, her hair loose around her shoulders, Lucinda walked as one asleep. With her hands tied behind her, her young breasts were clearly visible against the cotton gauze. The guards leered as they led her to the divan and bound her ankles.

  "What sort of game is this, Slipper?" Da Gama growled.

  "Deoga, you surprise me. Should I ignore the murder of my friend? Maybe he was a farang, but was he not a man?"

  "What do you want-money?"

  Slipper's lips pursed and he blinked. "I want justice. And I shall have it."

  "Let me see Geraldo."

  "In time. We have some matters to discuss. Tomorrow I shall send messages to the Sultana. You are lucky, mistress," he now said to Lucinda. "I could execute you here and now-that is the law. There is no punishment for murder except death-even for women. But because you are a farang, there may be implications. Out of courtesy I must inform the Sultana. You Christians, I understand, say prayers? Use your short time well." Slipper gave Da Gama a sympathetic smile and then left with the guards following.

  "Lucy ... this is terrible," Da Gama said, struggling to get closer to her.

  "Not so terrible. My life ended long ago." She sniffed but could not dry her tears. "I welcome death. Which is worse, tell me? Never to taste love, or taste it for a little while, and then have it disappear?"

  "Don't talk of love at a time like this!"

  Lucinda looked into Da Gama's face. "Why not. I'll be dead soon. What should I talk about? Have you never loved, cousin?" Da Gama could not find words to answer. His only thoughts were of escape. But Lucinda closed her eyes, and more tears spilled. "I was a fool. I hesitated. But my heart had become his, no longer mine. But when I finally made up my mind, when I was ready to give up everything-by then it was too late. He spurned me. He hates me. Now I shall give up everything anyway."

  Da Gama pushed closer. "But Lucy..."

  "We sleep in many tents, cousin."

  Da Gama blinked. "What are you saying, little one?"

  "Life is a caravan, and on this journey we sleep in many tents. Tomorrow I shall sleep in a different tent. Why should I care?"

  "Who told you this?" Da Gama asked. But Lucy now hid her face and would not answer.

  Da Gama struggled with the bindings on his wrists. Struggling gave him a little comfort. At least it was something to do.

  After a while, Geraldo entered with three guards. He carried a longbarreled pistol, one of Da Gama's. "Take her to Victorio's tent," he ordered.

  "Why?" Da Gama shouted.

  Geraldo answered without turning-his eyes fixed on Lucinda. "So she may view the man she murdered, cousin. So she may consider her misdeeds."

  The guards strode to the divan-two took Lucinda underneath the arms, the other grabbed her feet, and like a sack lifted her. "Treat her with respect, or know my anger," Geraldo said, pointing with the pistol for emphasis. As Lucinda passed, he bent and kissed her mouth. "Oh, cousin," he sighed, "what a time we might have had."

  Lucinda jerk
ed her head and spat. He wiped his face and nodded to the guards. After they took her out, he collapsed casually onto Slipper's divan. "She has spirit, does she not?"

  "You know she did not poison him," Da Gama growled.

  "How insightful you can be, Deoga." Geraldo chuckled. "Of course I know. I poisoned him myself."

  Da Gama's eyebrows flew up.

  "Really, cousin, at times you can be quite thick." He toyed with Da Gama's pistol. "It has taken me years, Deoga. But tonight, my efforts are rewarded." He turned to smile at Da Gama. "To remove both remaining impediments, both Victorio and Lucinda in one stroke. You must admit the brilliance, cousin. With their deaths the Dasana fortune is mine."

  Geraldo laughed at Da Gama's horrified expression. "Come, Deoga, you nearly figured it out. Victorio told me that you alone had realized my proximity to the fortune, how close I had come to being the sole heir. You can't pretend that you're entirely surprised."

  Da Gama struggled with his words. "Maybe. I never reckoned on such audacity."

  "Exactly!" Geraldo leaped to his feet. "Audacity! That has been the key! `How could any man be so evil?' the good man thinks. `Such a suspicion is outrageous!' So the good man walks smiling to his death with his eyes open, seeing nothing." Geraldo bowed to Da Gama. "You are the perfect example."

  "You think you've won? Then keep your mouth shut and enjoy it. Don't talk about it, for God's sake!"

  "Really, cousin-I need someone to share the fun." Geraldo leaned back comfortably on the divan, and pointed the uncocked pistol at Da Gama. "It's dangerous to keep these loaded. What if one went off by accident?" He pretended to shoot and chuckled to himself. "Do you want to know the best part? Slipper. I thought I'd have to poison the damned girl, or worse, marry her. Slipper solved all that for me. What a wonderful fool he is. A word or two whispered in his ear, that's all it took. When I told him I would be sole heir, and that I would always be his friend, he took the hint. At least Lucinda's death won't be on my head."

  "You trusted Slipper?" Da Gama stared at Geraldo. Geraldo enjoyed the moment, basking in Da Gama's attention. But the moment passed and still Da Gama stared. Beneath that relentless gaze, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Then Da Gama began to laugh. He laughed when Geraldo told him to stop, even when Geraldo raised the pistol and cocked its hammer.

  "Go ahead," he said. "You're the fool, not Slipper! The Sultana just got rich tonight, Aldo. Not you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Didn't you know that the property of a murderer is forfeit? Lucinda's fortune will go Bijapur-to the Sultana's privy purse!" Da Gama gave Geraldo time to work it out. "You should have killed her outright. Your cleverness has been your downfall, Aldo! Tomorrow she'll be condemned of the murder. Tomorrow she loses everything-and so do you."

  "But Slipper. . ."

  Da Gama smiled. "Slipper will get a tenth part. He'll be rich. Not you." Geraldo was so pitiable, Da Gama tried not to laugh.

  Geraldo's face was white. "I was a fool. My kind heart got the better of me. She hasn't yet been condemned ... What if I killed her now?"

  "You're too late. Slipper's smart. He expects trouble. That's why he restrained me. And even if you managed it, even if no one saw, Slipper would know it was you. Your fortune's lost."

  "There must be a way," Geraldo said blankly.

  "Never mind. You're young. You're dangerous. You could become a settlement man."

  With his open palm, Geraldo clapped Da Gama on the ear. With that he stormed from the tent.

  It had only been a few minutes when the tent flap opened yet again, but to Da Gama the seconds passed like hours. He expected Geraldo again, and steeled himself for a beating, but instead, it was Maya. Quiet as a whisper she hurried to his side, and placed her cool small hand on his cheek. "Deoga, what have they done?"

  "Have you seen Lucy?"

  Maya shook her head. "They would not let me speak with her. It took all my efforts to be allowed just to come to you. They put her into Victorio's tent. She's tied to the tent pole, and she weeps. It is not good for her there, Deoga, in the company of a corpse. It will give her dark thoughts."

  Da Gama's brow furrowed deeply. "Can you bring me a pistola?"

  "No, Deoga. They are locked in a box, and the box has many guards. They think you are dangerous."

  "They're wrong. Not without weapons. A sword maybe? A knife?"

  Maya shook her head. "I don't know how to get one. And Slipper searched me before I came in. It pleased him to be very thorough."

  Da Gama shook his head. "I thought it would be Geraldo who searched you.

  "Geraldo watched." She moved her hand to Da Gama's, and pressed it gently. "Tomorrow we go to the Sultana's camp, and there Lucinda will be executed. Can we do nothing to help her, Deoga?"

  "Nothing," he answered at last. He hesitated, frowning. "No-perhaps there's a chance for her."

  "What?"

  "Pathan." Da Gama peered past Maya, considering. "Under the right circumstances, he might manage. Did you learn what our route will be?"

  "They say we shall pass under Gokak Falls. It is a hard route to the Sultana, they say, but much shorter."

  Da Gama's eyes lit up. "That is excellent news. Perhaps there is a chance."

  "But how can we get word to Pathan in time? How can we get word to him at all?"

  So Da Gama in a rough whisper told her of the Three-Dot clan, how he'd seen their shadows following. He told her of the signal Wall Khan had set. Slowly he hatched a plan with her, slowly built the message that Maya was to say. He made her repeat it back to him, making sure of every detail. But even when she said it to his satisfaction, he shook his head. "This is impossible. This can never succeed."

  "It must work, Deoga. And even if it does not, still we must try. She should not die. We must do our best, and leave the balance to the Goddess. I will make the signal. I will say your words to them. Pathan will surely save her."

  Maya kissed his cheek as one kisses an uncle. Da Gama then remembered his dream of the old woman and ocean of milk, and meant to tell her, but already she was gone.

  The sentries huddled around the fire and at the entrances of the tents that held the captives. She picked up a flaming branch from the fire. "I'm going to the bushes," she said quietly.

  Once out of easy sight, Maya swung the flaming branch three times, saying her mantra with each pass.

  Was that enough, she wondered? Should I do it again? What are they like, the Three-Dot clan? What if I bungle the message? Will they do what I ask, or will they ... ?

  She had just begun to spiral into worry when the bushes near her rustled, and two dark men appeared.

  Before the dawn broke in the valley of Konnur, Pathan woke from a troubled dream. Though the memory of it faded as a mist, his unquiet lingered-like a fluttering of wings outside his window, like the coming of a storm, like the prowling of a wolf. He dressed and belted on a sword.

  No one was awake except the old watchman, who sat on the verandah steps beneath a dozen blankets though the air was warm. Pathan waved at him and began his own patrol of the grounds.

  Some premonition led him down the tree-lined drive. Birds trilled, and tree toads growled. But there was something else, some other sound just beyond the reach of Pathan's ears.

  Then he recognized it. A faint, low sputter; a horse ridden hard, blowing his lips in the darkness. Slowly, so the steel would not ring, Pathan slipped his sword from its scabbard. Moving silently from shadow to shadow he found two horses tethered to a bush beside a low-branched tree.

  He turned in the darkness, seeing no one, but now certain someone was there. "Speak now, and I will not harm you," he said in a loud voice. One of the horses looked up and snorted; otherwise there was silence.

  For no clear reason, only a sense of being watched, Pathan spun around. Behind him, clinging to the great branches of a pirpal tree were two huge, dull brown cocoons. Before his eyes, they burst open-he now saw that the cocoons were merely blankets tied into the branches.
Instead of moths, two men emerged and walked slowly to Pathan. Both carried bows with arrows notched.

  "She said you were good. She said that you would find us, and you have." The cocoon men grinned at one another.

  "Yeah, you're pretty good. We could only have killed you three or four times," the other said, and both men laughed.

  "What do you want here? Who told you about me?"

  "Calm down. We've got a message. Some farang who says he's your friend. Says you owe him a favor." The first man gave a leering grin. "Time to pay up, he says." The man paused, and his lips twisted into a gruesome smile. "There's some problem with another farang ... about some other farang ..."

  "Farangs ..." laughed his friend.

  Pathan's face grew very still. "Why come to me? Why don't you help him?"

  The two men shared a look. "He don't want us making a mess of things, Captain. His very words." Pathan raised an eyebrow. "It's true, Captain. He says you're the only one can help."

  "Why? What is this special task?"

  The bandits glanced at each other. "Captain, he wants you to kidnap a murderer."

  In Slipper's tent the lamps guttered and all but one went out. Da Gama dozed fitfully. Finally sunlight seeped in. Outside he heard muffled words he could not quite catch. He was hungry, and thirsty, and he needed to pee. For what seemed like an hour, Da Gama struggled with his bonds.

  At last he gave up and fell back on the divan, and to his humiliation found himself sobbing. He choked back the sobs and cursed his weakness, but it took a while before he could stop. Then he slept. He woke soaked in sweat as from a broken fever. The air had grown hot and smelled of damp wool. No one came to bring him water. There was nothing to interrupt his dark thoughts.

  At last his guards came in, and he was so spent from being alone, he welcomed them. They said nothing, however, but scooped him to his feet and blindfolded him. The guards marched him outside. At least they let him pee.