“You owe me nothing, Highness. I look forward to a fine performance upon my return.”
The Sikhs and ministers had approached the dais. At a sign from the rajah, the soldiers presented arms to the Portuguese, who replied with a salute. The six Malays had also raised their rifles in parting salute to the rajah.
Yanez slowly walked across the room, accompanied by two ministers, but as he drew near the door he turned abruptly and spied a head emerging from the silk curtains that hung behind the rajah’s throne; a white man, with a black beard and dark piercing eyes.
Their eyes met for an instant then the European quickly retreated behind the curtain.
So that’s the Greek! thought Yanez.
He bid goodbye to the ministers that had escorted him to the door then left the chamber and descended the steps that led towards the gate, the guards saluting as he passed.
His mail-cart awaited him a short distance from the palace, Bindar tugging at the reigns to keep the horses still.
“Sandokan has thought of everything,” smiled Yanez. Then turning to the Malays who were awaiting his orders said, “Split up. Go wherever you like, do whatever you wish but do not return to the Krishna temple until after nightfall. If you notice anyone trying to follow you, kill them. We cannot allow anyone to learn of our plans.”
“Yes, captain,” replied the Malays.
He climbed into the cart, sat down beside Bindar and had the horses set off at a run. It was only when they had reached the banks of the Brahmaputra, out of sight of the city’s last houses that he allowed the steeds to slow.
“Bindar,” he said, “have you heard tell of a black baagh that ate the rajah’s sons?”
“Yes, sahib,” replied the Indian.
“What do you know of it?”
“It’s a large beast that’s killed many people.”
“Where does it live?”
“The Kamarpur jungle.”
“Is that far from here?”
“About twenty miles or so.”
“On the other side of the Brahmaputra?”
“On this side of the river.”
“And it ate the rajah’s sons?”
“Yes, sahib.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“How?”
“Annoyed by his subjects’ incessant complaints, the rajah decided to kill the kala baagh once and for all and instructed his two sons to lead the hunt. They were children, far too young to carry out such a difficult task. Fearing the wrath of their father, however, they knew they could not refuse. We never really learned what happened. Two days after they set off, their bodies were found, half-eaten, hanging from a tree.”
“They’d set up an ambush up there?”
“They’d been tied to it,” said Bindar.
“What?”
“Bits of rope were found strewn on the ground,” said the Indian.
“So then…”
“It’s rumoured the rajah had taken advantage of that hunt to rid himself of two contenders to the throne.”
“By Jupiter!” Yanez exclaimed in horror.
“It comes as no surprise to us, sahib! Sindhia’s brother Bitor, the rajah who ruled before him, was every bit as treacherous. You must be vigilant.”
“Yes,” frowned the Portuguese. “I already have my suspicions. At the end of my audience with the rajah, I spied the Greek’s head emerge from a curtain behind the throne. I’d wager he’d been listening the whole time and giving the rajah council.”
“If he advised the rajah to send you on a hunt—”
“It could be a trap. The rajah and that Greek of his may prove to be more cunning than we expected. Bah! With Kammamuri and our men watching our backs, Sandokan, Tremal-Naik and I will take care of the beast and Surama will be another step closer to the throne.”
At a sign from Yanez, the horses picked up speed and were soon running at a gallop. They ran for several miles until the city disappeared from sight, the Portuguese looking back from time to time to ensure they were not being followed.
Once the sun had set, he instructed Bindar to head towards the Kariya temple; an hour later the mail-cart drew to a halt a few paces from the entrance.
“Take care of the horses,” he instructed the Indian as he jumped to the ground.
Sandokan and Tremal-Naik had been waiting for him in front of the doorway.
“So?” asked the Tiger of Malaysia.
“All to plan… well mostly.” laughed Yanez. “The rajah is now my friend.” He pulled out a cigarette and added, “Would you like to join me in a tiger hunt tomorrow?”
“Need you even ask?” replied Sandokan.
“Have the men prepare your weapons. We’re expected at the rajah’s palace before sunrise.”
“What happened at court?” asked Tremal-Naik.
“Come,” said Yanez. “I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter 8
The Black Tiger
AT THREE THAT morning Yanez, Sandokan, Tremal-Naik and the six Malays arrived before the royal palace to commence the hunt for the kala baagh, the dreaded black tiger that had been causing great havoc among the people of Guwahati. They had hired three large chopayas, the large Indian wagons pulled by a pair of Indian zebus, the day before, it not being fitting for an Englishman of his stature to go to an appointment on foot without a large escort.
The court’s khansama - the rajah’s majordomo and purveyor - had arranged everything for the grand hunt. Three magnificent elephants, each manned by a mahout and barded with large comfortable howdahs, stood in the center of the square, surrounded by a dozen bearers in charge of fifty hunting dogs that would help track the great beast. Two dozen shikari stood behind the elephants, armed with spears and dressed in simple langutis, garments that would make it easier to flee at the first sign of the kala baagh. A dozen servants and three cooks rounded out the expedition.
“We’re ready, sahib,” said the khansama, greeting Yanez with a bow.
“Delighted,” said the Portuguese, barely giving him a look. “What about the elephants?”
“All veterans of the hunt, sahib. Choose the one that suits you best.”
“That one,” said Tremal-Naik, pointing to the smallest of the three elephants, a powerful beast with strong legs and long tusks. “She’s a fine looking merghee.”
The mahouts threw down the rope ladders.
Yanez, Tremal-Naik and Sandokan climbed up into the merghee’s howdah, while Kammamuri, the Malays and the khansama, who was to lead the hunt, took their places in the others.
“Onward!” Yanez said to the mahout, once all were seated.
The three elephants set off immediately, trumpeting loudly as they began their march, the cooks, servants, shikari, bearers and their dogs following, close behind them. The great beasts marched at such a fast pace their escort had to run to keep up with them; it took less than half an hour for the small band to reach the outskirts of the city and enter the Kamarpur jungle.
Yanez had lit a cigarette and after having drained a large glass of arrack sat down opposite Tremal-Naik.
“You hunted tigers for years in the Sundarbans. What should we expect from this kala baagh? We’ve hunted tigers in India and Borneo, but neither Sandokan nor I have ever seen a black one.”
The pirate, who was quietly smoking his chibouk, nodded.
“They’re not completely black,” said Tremal-Naik, “just their stripes. Their fur is actually dark brown. They’re much more ferocious than the average tiger and some farmers believe they’re possessed by demons, maybe even Kali herself.”
“Kali? How did they arrive at that conclusion?”
“She’s known as ‘The Black One’. I guess they reasoned she prefers black tigers.”
“So basically we’re hunting a black man-eater?”
“An admikanevalla? They’re similar,” said Tremal-Naik. “They’re both solitary, cunning beasts. Man-eaters are generally older though and prey on humans because th
ey’ve become too slow to hunt antelope or wild oxen. They seldom attack a village. Kala baaghs, however, have no such hesitation. They’ll skulk into a village, hide near a well and lie in wait for the women to fetch water. They can spend hours scouting their prey, and they won’t attack unless they’re certain of victory.”
“And you said they live alone,” said Sandokan.
“Always,” said the Bengali.
“So they’re hard to capture.”
“Almost impossible. Like I said, they’re extremely cautious and always try to avoid hunters.”
“We have no choice,” said Yanez. “I need its pelt. We must kill it.”
“You’re becoming unsatisfiable, my friend,” laughed Sandokan. “First it was the Shaligram, now it’s the kala baagh. What will you want tomorrow?”
“The rajah’s head,” smiled Yanez.
“Leave that to me. One good swipe of my scimitar should suffice.”
“What about his Sikh guards? Have you forgotten them?”
“Ah, yes! His band of soldiers. What kind of men are they, Tremal-Naik?”
“Valiant warriors. There are none finer in India.”
“Incorruptible?”
“They’re mercenaries,” said the Bengali. “For hire to the highest bidder.”
“Interesting,” said Sandokan.
“Why all this interest in those Sikhs, little brother?” asked Yanez.
“You have your plans, I have mine,” said the Tiger of Malaysia, exhaling a breath of smoke. “Do they also worship Vishnu?”
“Not Vishnu, Shiva or Brahma. Not even Buddha,” replied the Bengali. “They follow the teachings of Guru Nanak, a religious leader who founded their religion three hundred years ago.”
“Thinking of becoming a Sikh, Sandokan?”
“That would require a special ceremony,” said Tremal-Naik. “In days of old he’d need to drink water that had been poured over a guru’s toes before he could be initiated, but—”
“That can’t be true!” exclaimed Yanez.
“Nowadays,” continued Tremal-Naik, “initiates drink five handfuls of amrit, a special nectar that must be prepared with a double edge sword. Then a guru sprinkles five handfuls over their hair and another five into their eyes.”
“That’s it?”
“There are a few other elements to the ritual and a pledge that they must make.”
“It sounds straightforward enough. What do you think, Sandokan?”
“They can keep their nectar; I’ve no desire to become a Sikh,” said the Tiger of Malaysia. “I’m more interested in their fighting skills. But enough of that for now; the jungle is starting to thin. Keep your eyes open, the tiger may be lurking nearby.”
“It could be anywhere among those reeds,” agreed the Bengali.
“Eyes peeled then.”
The three elephants had reached the outskirts of a vast plain dotted with mindi[11] trees, banana trees and small groves of palash trees[12], medium sized trees with leathery leaves, bright orange-red flowers, and crooked tortuous trunks.
Small indigo fields were visible off in the distance, a few huts standing among them, their thatched roofs shaded beneath large mango trees. There were no beasts about, however, save for a few flocks of bulbul, short-necked speckled songbirds that would fly off as the dogs and elephants approached.
“So this is where that black tiger likes to hunt,” said Yanez.
“Likely,” replied Tremal-Naik. “There are a few ponds over there, a great place to ambush thirsty antelope after sunset.”
“Do you think we’ll catch a glimpse of it before nightfall?”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Like I said, they’re cautious clever beasts.”
“We’ll set a trap for it.”
“You’d only be wasting your time. Traps don’t work on those beasts, not even if you bait them with pigs and goats.”
“We’ll wait then,” concluded Yanez. “We’re in no hurry.”
The elephants marched until noon, advancing through that vast endless plain, passing between groves of banana trees, mindi trees and mango trees, never showing any signs of unease, then the khansama who was riding atop a magnificent makna, a tuskless male bull elephant, gave the signal to stop for breakfast.
While the cooks, servants and bearers unloaded the breakfast supplies from the khansama’s elephant, the shikari quickly raised a large red silk tent and laid several soft Persian carpets on the ground to make dining more pleasurable. It had grown hotter as the morning progressed and once the last pillow and mat had been set down, Yanez, Sandokan, and Tremal-Naik quickly went in to escape the harsh rays of the sun.
The journey had sharpened everyone’s appetite, and the rajah’s guests did great honor to the naan and curry that had been provided them, washing down their meal with plenty of beer and toddy, the sweet spicy palm wine made from the sap of a palmyra tree. The three hunters dined in the tent, while Kammamuri, the Malays and the rest of the hunting party ate beneath the cool shade of a pair of large tamarind trees.
Once everyone had eaten and the servants had cleared the dishes, the khansama sat down among the rajah’s guests, taking great care to select a spot a respectful distance from the English lord.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” said Yanez, who was reclining against a large red silk cushion to better enjoy his cigarette. “Where do you think the kala baagh is now?”
“Resting in its den no doubt,” replied the khansama. “We won’t catch a glimpse of it until evening or early tomorrow morning. They don’t like the sun, my lord.”
“Any idea where we should look for it?”
“Four days ago, it was spotted by the Janti pond; it killed a woman who had taken her cow there to drink.”
“And the cow escaped?”
“The baagh didn’t pay it any heed. Once they’ve tasted human flesh, they’ll only eat other beasts if there are no people about.”
“Its lair must be near the pond then,” said Sandokan.
“Yes, somewhere among the surrounding bamboo. A shikari spotted it twice near there a few weeks ago.”
“When will we reach that pond?”
“We’ll be there before sunset,” replied the khansama.
“You intend to set up an ambush there?” asked Tremal-Naik, turning to Sandokan and Yanez. “The beast won’t come anywhere near the pond once it catches sight of the elephants.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said the Portuguese.
“At what time do you intend to resume our march?” Tremal-Naik asked the khansama.
“At four, sahib.”
“We have time for a quick nap then. We may not get any rest tonight.”
The khansama had more pillows brought into the tent then had a large silk curtain lowered over the entrance so the men could rest without being disturbed.
The shikari and the bearers, taking advantage of the great calm that reigned beneath the trees, had also fallen asleep. The elephants alone watched over the camp as they munched on a mound of leaves and branches from a nearby peepal tree, the lunch provided them by their mahouts, not enough to quell their hunger even though each beast had been given twenty-five pounds of flour mixed with water, a pound of ghee and half a pound of salt.
At four, the entire caravan was ready to depart.
The tent had been taken down in minutes and the elephants, which had had their heads, ears, and feet smeared with lard to prevent their skin from cracking, appeared to be in good humour.
“Onward!” shouted Yanez who had climbed back into the howdah along with Sandokan and Tremal-Naik.
The caravan set off once again, the shikari, bearers, cooks, and servants following behind the three elephants.
The landscape slowly began to change. Large trees gave way to vast stretches of elephant cattail[13], tall marsh grass with a brown sausage-shaped spike below the stem so named because the great beasts prize it above all others. They had reached the outskirts of the swamplands, the likely sight of the kala b
aagh’s lair.
Small and large animals, frightened by the approaching elephants and the bands of armed men, darted out of the bamboo from time to time and fled into the forest. At times the hunters would spot a sambar deer, a large beast with long rugged antlers, yellow-brown fur and a small but thick mane. It would stare at them for a moment, as if caught by surprise, then quickly vanish into the vegetation. At other times they would spot packs of jackals or bighanas[14], even the odd nilgai, large antelopes with blueish grey fur and short black smooth horns.
Once a jungle buffalo, awakened from its slumber by the elephants’ trumpeting, charged out from among the bamboo, its sharp swept back horns ready for battle. At the sight of the caravan it stopped for a moment and studied it with bloodshot eyes, pondering whether or not to attack, then turned and cantered off, looking back occasionally as if to say ‘a bhainsa fears no one’.
The elephants lumbered on over the muddy terrain, never once breaking their stride. Just as the sun was about to set and the great beasts were beginning to tire, Yanez, who was standing at the front of the howdah, spied a strip of water near a small stretch of thorny trees.
“There’s the baagh’s pond,” he said.
Suddenly the dogs began to bark and pull at their leads; the elephants, alarmed, came to an immediate halt.
“I’d wager the dogs have picked up its scent,” said the Portuguese.
“Yes, sahib,” replied the mahout.
“Your elephant shows no sign of unease?”
“None so far.”
“Head towards the pond. We’ll go round it and see if the dogs react.”
“Yes, sahib,” replied the mahout, raising his ankus, an elephant goad capped by a sharp spike and hook.
The elephant resumed its march, pushing aside the bamboo with its formidable trunk. He was still calm, but he must have realized that he was advancing into the tiger’s domain for he was not moving as quickly as he had just moments earlier.
The dogs, lashed into silence, advanced without a sound, pulling at their leads, ready to charge into the tall grass.
“Could it truly be nearby?” Yanez asked anxiously, turning to Tremal-Naik.
Sandokan: Quest for a Throne (The Sandokan Series Book 6) Page 8