The Faraway Drums. Jon Cleary

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘You were heard last night to tell him that if he wasn’t gone by this morning, he would have you to answer to. How is it that a British officer, who isn’t seconded to your service, has to answer to you?’

      The hawk had dropped out of sight, fallen on some invisible prey. A monkey clambered up and sat on the window-sill and the Ranee walked towards it and snapped at it. It looked at her with its decadent child’s eyes, clicked its teeth at her, then disappeared below the sill. The Ranee leaned out of the window, as if she were actually interested in where the monkey had gone. At last she turned back into the room.

      ‘Whom do you have spying on me, Major? One of the servants up at the Lodge? I think His Excellency would be interested in that.’

      ‘You’re free to complain to him, Your Highness.’ They were now exhibiting the cold formality of ex-lovers, which has the same chill as that of diplomats about to declare war on each other.

      ‘I’m afraid your spy, whoever it was – Was it that beautiful Miss O’Brady? But you’d never met her, had you? And the Americans, I’m told, are such poor spies anyway. They think everything should be open and above-board. So naïve.’

      ‘Why not take an example from them?’

      ‘Ah, Major –’ She softened for a moment, but he was not yet Darling Clive again. ‘What secrets have I ever kept from you? No, your spy has a ringing in his ears, I’m afraid. All I said to Major Savanna was that I’d see him on the train this afternoon. I was just being polite. I’d rather not spend the journey with him down to Kalka and Delhi. He’s a frightful bore. I wonder what Mrs Savanna sees in him?’

      ‘There is no Mrs Savanna, as far as I know.’

      ‘I’m not surprised.’ The Ranee had only contempt for wives. She had been fortunate enough to inherit her domain, her fortune and her position direct from her father and she had never had to pay homage to any man but him. Marriage was a state of disgrace into which no woman should ever allow herself to fall.

      ‘Then you can’t tell me where he is?’ He did not call her a liar, as he might have a village woman he’d been interrogating. After all she was, in theory if not in practice, a sovereign ruler, even if she was at present out of her territory.

      ‘No, Major, not at all.’ She gazed at him blandly, her dark eyes as unrevealing as the monkey’s had been. ‘Let’s hope he is on the train when we leave at one o’clock.’

      ‘Let’s hope so, Mala. Otherwise I may have to come back to you.’

      ‘Do that, Clive. Do you still snore when you lie on your back?’

      He left her on that less formal note and went out to where Karim waited for him with the horses. All up and down the road he could see gharrys and tongas being loaded with trunks and suitcases; the Durbar Train this afternoon looked as if it would be packed. Residents who had not been down to Delhi in years were making the journey; many had never been there, being only acquainted with Calcutta or Bombay or some army cantonment. But they’d have gone to Timbuctoo if His Majesty, God bless him and the Queen, had invited them. Their invitations to the receptions and levees were more carefully packed than their frocks and suits and dress uniforms.

      Farnol and Karim walked their horses down to the road that ran through the bazaar. Storekeepers offered them everything from food to elixirs; the smell of curry and fried cakes thickened the thin mountain air; voices, the bleat of a goat, the piping of a musician, the chorus of a bazaar, impressed themselves on the ear. Two men, shoulder to shoulder, a four-legged beast with a two-humped back, came down the narrow street and the crowd fell back; the men carried a tree-trunk twenty feet long and two feet thick; Farnol and Karim dragged their horses into a side alley and the men went past, faces set like stone, trance-like under their massive burden. A small band of Tibetans sauntered down the road, long hair falling down to their shoulders, sheepskin jackets hanging to their knees; dirt cracked on their faces as they smiled and waved their long wooden pipes at the storekeepers, who forgave them their ragged and filthy appearance because they knew these Tibetans were truthful and honest and not thieves like some of their own kind. Two government messengers in scarlet and gold strutted down the middle of the road, self-important as bantam cocks; monkeys sat on roof-tops and mocked them. Farnol and Karim moved through the press of the crowd and as ever Farnol felt the pleasure he always did when he was in a bazaar. If you were to understand India, this was where you had to come.

      Then up ahead, surrounded by beggars and storekeepers, he caught a glimpse of Miss O’Brady.

      Karim shouted to the crowd to let the sahib through and began whacking about him with his lathi. The horses shied and Farnol had his attention distracted from Bridie as he tried to quieten his horse. When he looked back towards her he did not immediately see her; instead he saw the two men pushing through the crowd on the far side, one of them faintly familiar. Then he recognized the blue scarf and the sheepskin jerkin the man wore; he let go his horse and fought his way through the crowd, shouting to Bridie. His voice carried: Bridie suddenly popped up, as if she had been squatting down to look at something. And behind her the two men suddenly halted, looked across the heads of the crowd at Farnol. For just a moment he saw the dark eyes above the mask of the blue scarf on the taller of the two men; it was the man who had tried to kill him last night. Then abruptly the two men turned and bolted.

      Farnol tried to thrust his way through the thick press of bodies, but one had to be as slippery as a bazaar thief to move quickly through a bazaar crowd. By the time he got as far as Bridie the men had disappeared from the far edge of the crowd, were gone down one of the steep alleys of steps to a lower level.

      ‘You shouldn’t have come down here!’ His voice was more curt than he intended, but he was concerned at how close she had come to being either murdered or kidnapped.

      ‘What’s the matter? I came down here to buy some last-minute things –’

      He took her by the arm, more roughly than was necessary, pulled her behind him through the crowd as Karim, now dragging both horses, followed him. The crowd, sensing tension between the sahib and the memsahib, always glad of a free show, moved up the narrow road with them. He had always been at home with a bazaar crowd; all at once now he hated them and struck out with his free arm. The crowd fell back without resentment, or at least any show of it; they silently mocked the Europeans who always wanted space around them, as if they were some sort of holy men. When Farnol finally dragged Bridie into the clear he was more angry with himself than with the mob that had impeded him. He had once thought of himself as a champion of these people.

      ‘For Heaven’s sake – !’ Bridie, too, was angry with him. She straightened her hat and jerked down her sleeves. ‘What’s wrong with a little shopping? I was down here yesterday –’

      ‘Yesterday was yesterday,’ he said, sounding even in his own ears obvious and pedantic, as if he were talking to a child. ‘The man who tried to kill me last night was in that crowd. He was either going to harm you or kidnap you.’

      The crowd now stood at a respectful distance, but still close enough to have their ears cocked. Voices were hissing for everyone to be quiet so that nothing would be missed of what the sahib and the memsahib said to each other. Farnol realized he had said too much and, once again angry at them, he turned on them and told them to clear off. Karim added his larger shout to that of his boss and the crowd reluctantly retreated.

      Farnol and Bridie climbed the hill, with Karim bringing up the rear with the two horses. Bridie had regained her composure, though she was worried now rather than annoyed. ‘You really think he’d have kidnapped me? Or – ?’ She couldn’t bring СКАЧАТЬ