'Mr Davidson, do you speak the local language?' she asked him curiously.
He nodded. 'I've learnt it since I got here.'
'How long have you been here?' she asked.
'Three months.'
'Three months?' She was astounded. 'But… you sound quite fluent…'
He shrugged modestly. 'I have a flair for languages—I speak eleven. It's just a knack.' Then he grinned at her. 'By the way, my name is Peter.'
She acknowledged the invitation with a smile. 'Mine is Marie, Peter. So why do you need to see the King?'
He leaned forward. 'I want to see a temple some miles out in the jungle and apparently it's forbidden to go anywhere near it. It's sacred, or something. I'm not sure why there's a taboo on it, but when I tried to drive there the other day I was forbidden to go any further by a very officious village headman, so I want to see the King to ask his permission. He's usually very good about these things—he's a modern-minded chap. But they denied me entrance to the palace, too. Probably old Hathni. He hates the sight of me and makes no bones about it. If I could get a message to the King I'm sure he would give me permission.'!''
Marie glanced at Rahaib's impassive face. 'Well, I'll speak to Mrs Cunningham, but I can't promise anything.'
Peter Davidson looked at Rahaib, too. 'What do you think, Rahaib?'
'I cannot say, sir,' Rahaib returned blandly.
'Hmm…' Peter looked at Marie and grinned. 'That means he refuses to get involved. Discreet chap, Rahaib.'
'You've met him before?'
Peter laughed. 'Anyone who meets the King meets Rahaib. He's the King's shadow.'
'He's our shadow for the moment,' said Marie, smiling at Rahaib. 'He's been very kind to us.'
Peter looked across the table at Jeremy. 'Enjoying your lunch, young chap?'
'No,' said Jeremy sulkily. 'I'm fed up with rice, and with curry and chapattis…'
Marie frowned at him. 'Jeremy! That's rude!'
'No,' said Peter cheerfully, 'just honest. I tell you what, Jeremy—why don't you come to dinner with me tonight and I'll give you real English food?'
Jeremy's face lit up. 'Chips?' he asked eagerly.
'I don't know about chips,' said Peter, scratching his chin. 'I could give you new potatoes and sausages, though.'
'Sausages?' Jeremy's face shone with delight. 'Honestly?' He stared at him as if at Santa Claus. 'And potatoes? Marie said there were no potatoes in Jedhpur!' He glared at her accusingly.
Peter winked at her. 'I've got a secret supply. Will you come?' He looked at Marie appealingly.
'Oh, please,' Jeremy begged.
She smiled. 'I suppose I can hardly refuse. Jeremy would never forgive me.'
'Neither would I,' Peter assured her.
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN Jess returned from her day out in the marshes she was hot and grimy, her feet plastered with black mud, her shirt sticking to her back after the heat of the day. She paused, to say hallo, before going to the bathroom to take a quick bath. Jeremy giggled at the sight of her. 'You're dirty, Mummy!'
'Filthy,' she agreed cheerfully. Under her arm she carried a bulging portfolio. 'But I've done a lot of work today. I saw a tiger down by the water hole, a splendid brute with enormous muscles, in fine condition. He stayed there for half an hour very obligingly and I was able to make several good sketches of him.'
'Jess, we've had an invitation,' Marie informed her.
Jeremy chimed in excitedly. 'Yes, we're going to have potatoes for supper tonight.'
Jess laughed. 'Potatoes?' Her brows rose. 'That sounds very unlikely, darling.'
'We are, aren't we?' he claimed indignantly, giving Marie a look of appeal.
'Yes,' she agreed. She looked at Jess and smiled. 'A young man called today and invited us all to supper. He offered us potatoes and sausages—Jeremy couldn't believe his ears. I'm afraid I could hardly turn him down once Jeremy had heard that.'
Jess laughed again. 'Who was this conjuror?'
'An English archaeologist,' Marie told her. 'Peter Davidson. He was rather nice.'
'I see,' said Jess with amusement. 'Well, in that case, I suppose you'd better go to your orgy, the pair of you.'
'Oh, you must come too,' Marie urged.
Jess shook her head. 'I'm too tired. I'll send my apologies—I want to go to bed early.'
'Mummy, when can I come and see your house on stilts?' begged Jeremy. 'I want to watch tigers and elephants.'
'Why not tomorrow?' she replied easily. 'You and Marie can both come. But you'll have to be very quiet while I'm working, Jeremy, you know that.'
'Promise!' he breathed ecstatically.
Jess laughed and went on to have her bath while Rahaib drove Marie and Jeremy along the dusty roads to the bungalows near the temple clearing where the English archaeological party were living.
They were passing through wilder country than they had ever seen before. The houses out here were smaller, thatched with dried grass, their mud walls baked hard by the sun. Thin cattle with great bells around their necks roamed the fields. The jungle was never far away, gloomy with shade, hung with creepers which festooned the struggling trees like Christmas chains. Jungle fowl with red combs and orange necks flew up squawking as they drove past, then settled again to scratch in the leafy dust. Strange red flowers made patches of brightness in the green of the jungle. Among the leafy branches sat parakeets of many colours, mocking them raucously, their round bright eyes following the car out of sight.
'It's rather creepy in there, isn't it?' Jeremy whispered, his small fingers clutching at Marie's hand.
'I'm afraid it is,' she agreed gently. 'But we would be quite safe with Rahaib to protect us.'
Rahaib turned his huge head to grin at Jeremy, his teeth white except for several sheathed in glittering gold. His fierce moustaches bristled proudly. 'I have shot many tigers,' he told Jeremy. 'No need to be afraid while I am there.'
Jeremy looked at him thoughtfully. 'You're very strong, aren't you, Rahaib?'
Rahaib laughed. 'Very strong,' he agreed.
They came to a clearing in the jungle where the ornately carved cupolas of temples reared like mirages against the encroaching green gloom. Nearby stood a wire fence surrounding several roughly constructed bungalows. On the verandah of one stood Peter Davidson, a glass in his hand as he waved to them.
Rahaib followed them on to the verandah and stood impassively while Peter greeted them, then, when they were led into the house, sat down on the steps of the verandah and stared out into the swiftly falling dusk.
'My friends wanted to get in on the act,' Peter said cheerfully, pouring Jeremy a glass of lemonade and a glass of lime laced slightly with gin for Marie, 'but I told them to clear off. This is my party, I said. Find your own visitors.' He glanced at the darkening windows. 'I expect they're watching us sulkily right now.'
'Oh, what a shame,' said Marie, almost laughing. 'How many of you are there?'
'Four of us,' he told her. 'Our leader is Grant Williams, a choleric Welshman of advancing years. Then there's Duffy, who's Irish and addicted to poker, Saints-bury, who's of rather monkish habits, never drinking or having any fun—and me.' He grinned at her. 'I'm the pick of the bunch, believe me. I didn't want you to meet the others yet in case they frightened you off. En masse they can be pretty horrifying.'
Jeremy was gazing around the room with a disillusioned air. 'I don't see any potatoes and sausages,' he said.
Marie gave Peter a warning glance. 'I hope for your sake that you weren't just having him on, because he's set his heart on those potatoes of yours.'
He bowed. 'When I promise something I mean every word I say.' He picked up a brass bell and rang it with abandon. A few moments later an old man in a turban and dhoti came into the room bearing a large brass tray. While Jeremy watched with glee he laid the table with three plates, lit the candles and then placed some covered dishes in the centre.
'Right-ho, Ramji,' said Peter cheerfully. 'We'll do
the rest.' He waved them to their seats, then whipped the covers away. Jeremy gave a sigh of rapture. Nestling in one was a pile of small new potatoes shining with butter, faintly dusted with what appeared to be chopped chives. In the other was a mound of sausages swimming in baked beans.
'How did you do it?' Marie demanded as Peter piled the food on to Jeremy's eager plate.
'Tins,' he said succinctly.
She burst out laughing, then her eyes brightened. 'Where did you get them?' If Peter could buy tins of English food, she thought, so could they.
Peter shook his head. 'Brought them from England,' he admitted. 'They were shipped out with our heavy equipment, strictly for special occasions. We could only bring a small supply or I'd give you some.'
She sighed. 'Oh, well, it's wonderful to have a change, as Jeremy says.'
'You might be able to get them from one of the larger towns,' he suggested. 'Of course, there's no demand for such stuff in Lhalli, but in Delhi or Calcutta there's an English population who have such food imported for them.'
'It doesn't matter,' she said, enjoying the buttery taste of the potatoes.
They had fruit and custard to follow, the custard also coming from a tin, Peter informed her. Then they had coffee, strong and milky. Afterwards while Jeremy looked through some coloured books of photographs of India which Peter produced, Marie and Peter played records and talked by candlelight.
Suddenly their peace was interrupted by the tramp of feet on the verandah. Peter looked round, grimacing.
'Blast them! I might have known they wouldn't keep out…'
Then three men came into the room, eagerly looking at Marie. Peter sulkily introduced her to them. They surrounded her, talking all at once, making her laugh.
'I've discovered why you aren't allowed out near the Satmu temple,' Grant Williams, a short dark man in his thirties, said to Peter.
'Oh?' Peter asked impatiently.
'Apparently Mrs Cunningham is behind it,' said Grant, smiling at Marie.
'Jess?' Marie was puzzled.
He turned to her, his dark eyes twinkling. 'It seems she doesn't want any visitors out there for the moment in case they scare away any of the animals who visit the waterhole. The temple is just a few hundred yards away in the jungle.'
'So that's it!' Peter exploded. 'Well, it seems simple then. All I have to do is get her to take me out there with her.'
'We're going there tomorrow,' Marie told him.
Peter's face lit up. 'That's terrific! I'll come, too.'
'Oh, I don't know,' she protested. 'You'd have to ask Jess.'
'I'll come back and ask her tonight,' Peter said.
'How are you going to get back?' Grant asked him sarcastically. 'I need the Land-Rover to get into Lhalli to send some telegrams.'
'You can give me a lift back,' Peter said confidently.
Grant shook his head. 'I have a better idea. Strange as it may seem, I'm still in charge of this expedition. I'll see Mrs Cunningham for you and ask her permission for a visit to the temple.'
Peter looked at him unwillingly, and Grant grinned. 'Don't argue, old man. You can't descend on Mrs Cunningham at this hour and foist yourself on her until I get back from Lhalli. You know how long it takes to send a telegram here.'
So they drove back to the bungalow with Grant Williams driving behind them, and he came into the bungalow to have a few words with Jess.
She was startled to see him. Wrapped in a cotton dressing-gown, her short hair damp from her bath, she flushed as she shook hands.
'I'm sorry to intrude at this hour,' he said uneasily, and explained his mission.
'If Mr Davidson comes along tomorrow he must be very quiet,' Jess said. 'I don't want any disturbances near the waterhole. The animals scent any intruders and keep clear for hours until they're sure the coast is clear.'
'I'll bring him myself,' said Grant. 'I think I can vouch for his discretion if I'm there beside him.'
Jess lifted amused blue eyes to him. 'I see,' she said, her glance measuring him.
'Will you trust me?' he asked.
'I think I will,' she said softly.
Next morning at dawn they all set off in two Land-Rovers. Jess, Marie and Jeremy drove in one, Peter, Grant Williams and Rahaib came behind them in another. The journey was slow and painful. The roads were soon nothing but cart-tracks through the jungle, jolting roughly over them they clenched their teeth at each great bump, their faces soon grey with dust.
Soon they left the Land-Rovers parked in a clearing and went the rest of the way on foot, walking carefully in single file through dark jungle paths, listening to the screech of green parakeets overhead, watching the flicker of wings as greenshanks and golden orioles flew between the branches.
'We shall be coming to the river soon,' Jess said softly.
The heat was oppressive, steamy, humid. High grass whispered on all sides of them under the shade of the twisted creepers. At dawn the mist was still slowly clearing from the river banks; a luminous pearly whiteness hung around them everywhere.
Suddenly a kingfisher flew out, a silver fish in its beak, the flash of bright blue making them jump.
'Here we are,' Jess whispered.
They emerged on a river bank, the sides stony with pebbles. A few feet away on the other side some roe deer, small spotted deer with liquid eyes, were grazing. They shot away, vanishing into the mist with a silent speed that was very impressive.
Jeremy froze, clutching his mother's arm. She followed the stare of his round eyes and smiled.
'It won't hurt you, darling. It's only a monitor.'
The lizard slowly moved into the safety of the jungle again, his green skin merging with the trees.
They moved on towards the stilt hut the King had had built for Jess. Thatched with dry grass, open-sided, it was reached by a rickety series of bamboo steps, like a ladder. Below the stilts it stood on the grass was trodden flat and yellowing.
'Doesn't look too safe to me,' Grant Williams observed with a frown.
Jess laughed. 'It does very well for me.' Then she surveyed them all with a little grimace. 'But you may be right. I doubt if it would support the weight of a small army like you. Some of you must stay below for a while.'
'I'll take Marie off to see the temple,' Peter said eagerly.
'I'll stay with you, Mummy,' Jeremy insisted, clinging to her hand.
She looked at Rahaib, who inclined his head politely. 'If you will permit, my lady, I will visit the village and see if I can find fresh milk and eggs.'
'That would be nice,' Jess thanked him. 'You know where it is, Rahaib?'
A look of dry amusement crossed his face. 'Yes, my lady.'
Grant Williams laughed. 'Rahaib knows where everything is,' he told Jess.
Peter took Marie's hand. 'Coming? The temple must be along here somewhere…'
'No, sir,' Rahaib interrupted. 'It is along that path over there…' His brown finger pointed confidently to a very narrow, overgrown path.
'Thanks,' said Peter, with a grin. He and Marie took the path indicated, finding it heavy going because it was so overgrown. Peter slashed at the creepers with a sinister-looking knife he had carried with him from the Land-Rover. The river ran to the right of them, chuckling over great grey boulders.
They came out in another clearing, facing the temple, which was in a far more ruinous state than the ones Peter and his colleagues were working on, its steps crumbling away, the jungle growing in upon it closer and closer, creepers strangling the ornate pillars which decorated it, grass growing through the stone flags of the courtyard.
'What a mess!' Peter said reflectively.
'How old is it?' she asked him, staring at it with great interest and fascination.
'Looks older than the ones we're working on,' Peter shrugged. 'Perhaps third century.'
'As old as that?' she demanded.
He laughed. 'India is a very ancient country. Let's take a look inside.'
They walked u
p the steps and entered the temple. The sunlight died as they went inside and cool shadows thickened the air. The smell was nauseating.
'Something rather dead in here,' Peter said, grimacing. 'An animal has got in and died, presumably.'
'I'll wait for you by the door,' said Marie, feeling sickened by the smell.
Peter glanced at her. 'Are you all right?'
'Fine,' she said. 'I just prefer the open air.'
He laughed. 'I know what you mean. Look, I won't be long, then I'll guide you back to the others.'
'There's no hurry,' she said. 'It's quite pleasant here.'
Peter plunged further into the gloom, leaving her by the door, staring into the oppressive jungle. She saw a giant spider's web glistening with silvery mist drops stretched across from one pillar to the other. The carvings were so unfamiliar, so contorted and strange, that her eyes wearied of tracing them, trying to make sense of them. She knew nothing of the ancient legends that lay behind them, the mysteries and secrets of the religion that had caused this place to be built.
Suddenly she froze, her whole body shaken with horror. Facing her, between the creeper-straggled trees, stood a huge tiger, sleek, muscled, poised for movement, his tail lashing from side to side, the green eyes staring at her unwinkingly.
She was so frightened that she merely stared back, swallowing on a terror so great she felt sick.
She opened her mouth to scream for Peter, but no sound came. She felt her limbs turn to water.
The tiger's head slowly drew forward. She saw the great body tense for a spring, every muscle beneath his shining coat.
She remembered Jess describing a tiger who had visited the waterhole beneath the stilt house. This must be the same one. Jess had said he left pug marks so big that she had measured them with disbelief.
A sudden crash among the trees drew her attention from him. The tiger too turned to stare, distracted from her.
Someone was moving among the trees, and Marie realised that the newcomer might walk straight into the tiger. She screamed then, her throat relaxed from the grip of terror.
'Tiger! Don't come any further… there's a tiger here…' The words seemed to float mistily on the morning air. For a wild moment she wondered if she had actually said them, then she heard Peter racing towards her from the back of the temple, his feet stumbling on the stone floors. At the same time the unknown person began to run through the jungle, but incredibly towards her, not away into safety.
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