The Satapur Moonstone

by Sujata Massey

  “They will not hear anything from me. I shall keep that confidential information close.” He touched the front of his shirt, just over his chest. “And please know that I think you are a very brave woman to have found a way to leave. Thank God for that.”

  She felt her cheeks warming. “Can we please end this overly personal talk? I was on my way to the stable. If you are willing to lend me a horse.”

  “As much as I worry about you, I will not try to restrain you. Too many have already done that.” Colin pushed himself up to standing again. “I need to make sure you get away before Prince Swaroop awakens.”

  Perveen could not begin to express how grateful she felt for his confidence. So she merely said, “I look forward to seeing you when you arrive at the palace.”

  Colin tilted his face to the sky. “The fog is lifting from the hills. I hope the weather stays fine for both of our journeys.”

  Perveen set off a half hour later with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to protect her from the cool morning air. Her essential supplies were loaded into a saddlebag, including a small tiffin box with breakfast food that Rama had quickly prepared. Mohit was sleeping in the stable. Once roused, he helped Perveen mount the same horse, Rani, who’d carried her three days before. As she trotted downhill, it seemed that the small spotted mare finally understood what her nudges meant. She hoped Rani would be responsive and surefooted along the steep and wet sections she remembered from the palanquin ride.

  As the path wound along the wall that bordered Heaven’s Rest, the Mehta estate, Perveen saw the same guards who had been on duty the day before. As she came level with them, she pulled back on the reins to halt Rani. “How is the burra-memsahib?”

  The senior guard glanced sideways as if he was nervous about something. “She is not well. The doctor has come.”

  Through the open gate, Perveen saw the same dark horse that the doctor had ridden away from the circuit house. The saddlebags were marked with a red cross, a detail she hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “We cannot admit anyone until he has determined it is safe,” the younger guard piped up.

  Suddenly, Perveen remembered what the doctor had said about two children getting cholera. How could it have spread here, to this walled estate? “Does she have cholera?”

  “He has not said yet!” The older guard gave the young one a reproving frown. “But she has been very sick. When the sahib returns, he may not be able to come inside either.”

  Perveen was flooded with pity for Vandana. No matter how deceptive the woman might have been, she did not deserve this kind of suffering. And Perveen knew she could not go in to see Vandana; the risk of carrying germs to the royal family was too high.

  “I will pray for her recovery at Aranyani’s shrine’s,” Perveen said. Even though she was not a Hindu, making a quick Zoroastrian prayer there would be a comfort, when she felt worries coming from every direction. “Will you tell her maid to tell this to memsahib?”

  “That is her chief deity,” the older guard said, and gave her a slight nod. Perveen said goodbye to them, now understanding that the tension she’d seen in their faces was not because they disliked her. They were frightened for their employer, and they probably realized that their own welfare was also at risk.

  Perveen nudged Rani with her heel, encouraging the horse onward. Fog was sweeping in, and this seemed ominous. She did not know what she was heading into. She had no idea if Prince Jiva Rao was still alive, nor could she know that Colin’s trip to Poona would go well and result in military support for the search.

  Riding through the village, she saw many more villagers were out than the previous morning she’d been there. Perveen steered her horse carefully, keeping her head down and concentrating on the route. She hoped that the eccentric costume might keep them from recognizing her, but judging by the scrutiny, she doubted it.

  As she continued on into the outer edge of the forest, where the trees were thinner and more flowers grew than deeper in the woods, she thought more about Vandana. If Dr. Andrews couldn’t help her, it would be a tragic homecoming for her husband. Perveen wondered if Yazad knew anything about the moonstone pendant Vandana had manipulated Perveen into bringing to the rajmata. Perhaps he had been the one pushing the idea that it should go to the palace. But why? She needed to concentrate on catching the turn for the temple. She was also keeping watch for any signs of human movement—although she hardly expected that Jiva Rao could have traveled this far by himself.

  Perveen rode on until she saw the crumbled pillars set a few hundred feet before the old temple. Gently, she guided Rani to walk onward. As they entered the temple grounds, Perveen saw that the brass bowl where Lakshman had left money before was brimming with wild orchids. Here, in the midst of the forest, Aranyani was being worshipped.

  She coaxed Rani over to where a large dead tree lay fallen on its side. It was the right height to use as a step-down platform. She stepped off safely and brought Rani to the small stream near where the palanquin bearers had taken lunch.

  “Don’t leave me,” she said, patting the horse on her flank before turning toward the shrine she had refused to approach before. It was a large cylindrical gray rock with an alcove carved into it. Inside there was a roughly carved black stone figure. From the breasts jutting forward, she knew it was an image of a woman, but there were none of the elaborate hairstyles or other artistic flourishes that were present in most religious statuary.

  The cawing of a bird brought Perveen away from her wonder at the old statue and back to the present moment. Perveen wandered into a different part of the temple garden in order to face the hills. She felt for the kusti inside the waist of her skirt and began to move her hands along it, whispering her prayer. She prayed that Mirabai had found her son. As she prayed, she felt as if she was harnessing the energy of the thousands of animals and insects around her. She was not a believer in Aranyani, but if the goddess wanted to help her, she would accept it.

  She had just finished when she heard a crunching sound on the ground. It was not a human footstep; it sounded like a larger animal.

  Her stomach lurched as she turned slowly, fearing the worst.

  But it was a man coming toward her on a horse. She stayed stock-still, because she knew she couldn’t possibly get to Rani fast enough to get away. She could only hope it wasn’t one of the two men she feared most: Roderick Ames and Prince Swaroop.

  As the figure drew nearer, she saw he was small and humbly dressed. He had a shock of silver hair. Blinking, she called out, “Rama-ji, is that you?”

  “Yes. Sandringham-sahib sent me after you. He did not want you to become lost.”

  Perveen smiled, thinking Colin had found a way to reassure himself of her safety. But Rama was not a palanquin bearer; how would he know the way any better than she did? When she broached the subject, he smiled.

  “Along the route to the palace, there are different pieces of land. In one section, I know I will find a thicket of brahmi plants. In another, ashwagandha. I know these places.”

  “That is fortunate for me.” Perveen was sincerely glad to have him accompanying her.

  “I will bring my horse to the stream for a drink of water. And then I will make my prayers for the safety of the maharaja,” Rama said, walking his horse to the stream. “It will not be long.”

  After Rama had walked to the temple, Perveen returned to the stream, where both horses had their heads bowed over the clear water. They drank on and on, even though it was not hot. It seemed as if the animals understood there was a complicated journey ahead.

  Without argument, Perveen let Rama lead the way. Rani seemed happy to follow the slowly moving horse in front of her. After an hour and a half of slow, careful riding, the palace’s high gray towers appeared in the distance. As they drew closer, Perveen sensed a difference. It wasn’t until she was going up the stone path to the palace that she saw there were n
o durwans guarding the main entrance.

  Rama, who had been riding just a few feet ahead of her, stopped. He held his horse’s reins so she could draw alongside.

  He looked at her and shook his head. “No guards. That is not good.”

  “There were guards there at the time I left. They might be away now because they are looking for the maharaja.”

  Perveen took a long drink of water from the flask and, from the saddlebag, took out her notebook and pen. These she tucked into the deep pocket of the split skirt, which was turning out to be a more useful garment than she’d ever expected.

  Two peasant children emerged from the shadows of the wall. Each of them held a knife. Alongside them was the tall white dog, Ganesan. He growled at Rama, but when Perveen called out to him, he recognized her, barking happily and wagging his tail.

  “So you are the guards today!” Perveen said in a friendly manner to the children, gesturing for the younger one to come closer and hold Rani’s reins. He did so, and she managed to slide off. Ganesan half-jumped on her, and she petted him, cooing all the while.

  “Where are the durwans?” Rama said to the children, speaking in the local dialect.

  “The prince is gone. A fancy Parsi lady took him!” the younger boy said.

  As Rama looked at her, Perveen took a deep breath. She realized that because of the strange riding clothes, she hadn’t been identified. “I am the Parsi lady, but I never took the maharaja. I’ve come here to tell the maharanis that I don’t have him. I will do my best to find him.”

  “Only family members are allowed inside.” The older boy’s voice wavered. “And this is not the ladies’ gate. That is on the other side.”

  Perveen was surprised. She hadn’t been told about a ladies’ gate to enter the palace structure before. Could that gate have been the way the prince was taken from the palace?

  “Can you kindly show us the way to the ladies’ gate?” Perveen was using formal language that was not typical when speaking with poor children or servants. It was a gamble, and the younger child snickered, but she could see the older one felt pleased to be treated with respect.

  “Your grandfather cannot go inside the zenana,” the younger child said, looking at Rama.

  “I would not disrespect the palace. But I shall walk alongside her to this gate,” Rama said. His insistence on staying near reminded her that despite the fact that children were guarding the outside of the palace, she had no idea who might be waiting inside.

  A few minutes later, they were standing outside another gate, but it was a curious one, about four feet tall.

  “Is this gate meant for children?” Perveen asked.

  “No. It is for the maharanis’ protection,” said the older child guard. “People must bend to go inside. The servant standing inside can see who is coming.”

  “If not a lady, cut off the head!” said the younger child with a giggle.

  With a grinding sound, the bar over the small door slid up. The comment the child had made about cutting off the head didn’t seem funny to Perveen. The fact that the door was being raised meant somebody was there on the other side, waiting.

  Yes, she was a woman—but that hadn’t stopped her from being targeted for poisoning. Was this archaic doorway part of another attempt to end her life? She glanced at the older boy, who was fiddling with the edge of his lungi and looking nervous. She could urge him to step through the gate ahead of her, but he would likely refuse for fear of getting in trouble.

  She looked at Ganesan, who had not left her side since she’d arrived. He stood by her with a slowly waving tail. She put a hand on his smooth, warm fur and was glad to have a strong friend.

  “Go ahead,” she said, pushing on his hindquarters as he headed through the gate. He was deft and could avoid any knife. On the other side, she heard a woman’s soft laughter; and in the next instant, she took a deep breath, bent herself in half, and crept through.

  “Are you safe?” Rama called after her in English.

  Perveen found herself in a vestibule that she remembered from her first night. The square room was largely unfurnished but had a lavish mosaic tile floor. Sitting on cushions was the same cluster of ladies-in-waiting she had seen in the durbar hall, as well as serving maids crouched off to the side. Keeping her eyes on them, she answered, “I am quite fine. There are a few gentlewomen and some maids, but nobody else.”

  “The men are all away looking for the maharaja!” The speaker with a high-pitched, emphatic voice was the same petite, fair woman who had assisted the previous day when Maharani Putlabai had thrown her scepter.

  Perveen raised her hands in a gesture of emptiness. “I did not take him. The reason I’m here is to help find him. May I know your name?”

  “I am Archana. I am the rajmata’s lady-in-waiting.” From her tone, it was clear she saw herself as the zenana’s executive officer.

  “And how is the rajmata?”

  Archana looked grave. “She has taken to her bed. We all fear for her health.”

  Although Archana’s allegiance was supposed to be the rajmata, Perveen imagined Archana knew everything going on with both maharanis. That was the nature of zenana life. “Is the maharani Mirabai back in the palace?”

  “Not back yet.”

  Perveen’s concern was rising. If Aditya’s account was accurate, this meant the junior maharani had been missing for more than twelve hours. “It is strange to me that she went out without taking Ganesan along.”

  Archana paused as if to ponder this. “It could be she knew the journey would be too long for him?”

  Perveen was not satisfied. “Are the men who are seeking the maharaja searching for her, too?”

  Archana regarded her with a patronizing smile. “Everyone wants to know where she is. But the men cannot approach her, because they don’t want to break purdah.”

  Perveen mulled this over. “It would also be difficult for them to recognize her if they’ve never seen her.”

  “She dresses in her special suit when she rides. She would appear like a man to outsiders—but we would know her.”

  “A man’s riding habit?”

  “No, it is the livery of a palace messenger.” Archana dropped her voice as if she thought this shameful. “She had the suit specially made for her. She does not think the rajmata knows about it.”

  Although, Perveen thought, Archana surely had told her.

  “Memsahib, I am sorry to interrupt. Where shall I wait for you?” It was Rama, speaking from the outside.

  “The front of the old palace, please.” He would be able to speak to Colin and the others when they arrived, whether it was later in the day or the next morning. She also knew that if Rama needed to enter the palace, that would be the only gate where he’d be allowed in.

  21

  What the Princess Saw

  Perveen had spoken confidently to Rama, but inside, she still felt doubts. She hoped Archana and the other palace women truly believed she was innocent of kidnapping. And now the issue of a vanished maharani seemed as pressing as that of Prince Jiva Rao’s disappearance.

  “Will you come with me, memsahib? The dog cannot come along. Rajmata does not like him.” Swiftly, Archana was moving toward an archway opening into the zenana’s long hallway. Perveen wondered if she would be led to an interview with the rajmata, or something entirely worse.

  “Wait. I must speak to her first.”

  Perveen wheeled about, startled because she hadn’t seen Mr. Basu in the zenana. There was a long shadow behind the cream marble jali wall, though. “Is that you, Basu-sahib?”

  “Yes,” he answered in his wavering voice. “Please come through the door so that I can address you.”

  Perveen looked about in confusion. “I don’t see a door.”

  “Here.” Archana unlocked a door crafted of the same marble fretwork as the rest of t
he jali wall. There was no knob, and the whole door had been fitted in so ingeniously, with the pattern matching the wall, that it was close to invisible.

  Archana stayed behind in the zenana and closed the door as Perveen stepped through. Mr. Basu was standing in the darkened main hall. His head and shoulders were bowed, as if he was in mourning. Perveen wondered if he knew something that nobody else did.

  “I never thought you would come back.” His voice was heavy. “But it is good. If you are here, it must mean you did not take him.”

  His statement revived her hopeful feeling “You are correct. I am worried for the maharaja. Will you tell me exactly where people have searched?”

  His narrow shoulders rose up and then dropped, making him look helpless. “Where haven’t we looked? Through the palace, through the gardens.”

  “Is there a map of the old and new palace rooms? He could be hiding.”

  “I don’t need a map,” he said, the impatience in his tone reminding her of Prince Swaroop. “There are hundreds of rooms. The guards have searched them all. Now they are spread out through the forest.”

  How strange that she hadn’t seen any while traveling with Rama. “How trustworthy are these guards? Do you know each and every one?”

  “I do. They would have no reason to hurt their future monarch.”

  She moved closer to him and lowered her voice. “Would you say the guards in the old palace are more loyal to the dowager and the ones in the new palace to Maharani Mirabai?”

  “It should not be that way, because it is one family.” Sighing, he added, “I think this business of running after children is too much for my heart.”

  Noticing the sweat on his brow, Perveen said, “I pray your health will be fine. Take all the rest you need—I am here to manage the search. Your word as palace officer to give me authority will be helpful.”