Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 2: Flashman and the Mountain of Light, Flash For Freedom!, Flashman and the Redskins. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ noticed what you meant them to notice,” says Mangla dryly.

      “Baggage! It’s true enough, though … Men!” She gave her husky laugh, raised a shimmering leg and admired its shapeliness complacently. “Even that beast of an Akali couldn’t stare hard enough … heaven help some wench tonight when he vents his piety on her. Wasn’t he a godsend, though? I should be grateful to him. I wonder if he …” She chuckled, drank again, and seemed to see me for the first time. “Did our tall visitor hear it all?”

      “Every word, kunwari.”

      “And he was properly attentive? Good.” She eyed me over the rim of her cup, set it aside, and stretched luxuriously like a cat, watching me to gauge the effect of all that goodness trying to burst out of the tight silk; no modest violet she. My expression must have pleased her, for she laughed again. “Good. Then we’ll have much to talk about, when I’ve washed away the memory of those sweaty warriors of mine. You look warm, too, my Englishman … show him where to bathe, Mangla – and keep your hands off him, d’you hear?”

      “Why, kunwari!”

      “‘Why kunwari’ indeed! Here, unbutton my waist.” She laughed and hiccoughed, glancing over her shoulder as Mangla unfastened her at the back. “She’s a lecherous slut, our Mangla. Aren’t you, my dear? Lonely, too, now that Jawaheer’s gone – not that she ever cared two pice for him.” She gave me her Delilah smile. “Did you enjoy her, Englishman? She enjoyed you. Well, let me tell you, she is thirty-one, the old trollop – five years my senior and twice as old in sin, so beware of her.”

      She reached for her cup again, knocked it over, splashed wine across her midriff, cursed fluently, and pulled the diamond from her navel. “Here, Mangla, take this. He doesn’t like it, and he’ll never learn the trick.” She rose, none too steadily, and waved Mangla impatiently away. “Go on, woman – show him where to bathe, and set out the oil, and then take yourself off! And don’t forget to tell Rai and the Python to be within call, in case I need them.”

      I wondered, as I had a hasty wash-down in a tiny chamber off the boudoir, if I’d ever met such a blatant strumpet in my life – well, Ranavalona, of course, but you don’t expect coy flirtation from a female ape. Montez hadn’t been one to stand on ceremony either, crying “On guard!” and brandishing her hairbrush, and Mrs Leo Lade could rip the britches off you with a sidelong glance, but neither had paraded their dark desires as openly as this tipsy little houri. Still, one must conform to the etiquette of the country, so I dried myself with feverish speed and strode forth as nature intended, eager to ambush her as she emerged from her bathroom – and she was there ahead of me.

      She was half-reclining on a broad silken quilt on the floor, clad in her head-veil and bangles – and I’d been looking forward to easing her out of those pants, too. She was fortifying herself with her wine cup, as usual, and it struck me that unless I went to work without delay she’d be too foxed to perform. But she could still speak and see, at least, for she surveyed me with glassy-eyed approval, licked her lips, and says:

      “You’re impatient, I see …. No, wait, let me look at you … Mm-m … Now, come here and lie down beside me … and wait. I said we should talk, remember. There are things you must know, so that you can speak my mind to Broadfoot sahib and the Malki lat.” Another sip of puggle and a drunken chuckle. “As you English say, business before pleasure.”

      I was boiling to contradict her by demonstration, but as I’ve observed, queens are different – and this one had told Mangla to have “Rai and the Python” standing by; they didn’t sound like lady’s maids, exactly. Also, if she had something for Hardinge, I must hear it. So I stretched out, nearly bursting at the prospect of the abundances thrusting at me within easy reach, and the wicked slut bobbed them with one hand while she poured tipple into herself with the other. Then she put down the cup, scooped her hand into a deep porcelain bowl of oil at her side, and kneeling forward above me, let it trickle on to my manly breast; then she began to rub it in ever so gently with her finger-tips, all over my torso, murmuring to me to lie still, while I gritted my teeth and clawed at the quilt, and tried to remember what an ablative absolute was – I had to humour her, you see, but with that painted harlot’s face breathing warm booze at me, and those superb poonts quivering overhead with every teasing movement, and her fingers caressing … well, it was distracting, you know. To make things worse, she talked in that husky whisper, and I must try to pay attention.

      Jeendan: This is what killed Runjeet Singh, did you know? It took a full bowl of oil … and then he died … smiling …

      Flashy (a trifle hoarse): You don’t say! Any last words, were there?

      J: It was my duty to apply the oil while we discussed the business of the state. It relieved the tedium of affairs, he used to say, and reminded him that life is not all policy.

      F (musing): No wonder the country went to rack and ruin … Ah, steady on! Oh, lor’! State business, eh? Well, well …

      J: You find it … stimulating? It is a Persian custom, you know. Brides and grooms employ it on their wedding night, to dispel their shyness and enhance their enjoyment of each other.

      F (through clenched teeth): It’s a fact, you can always learn something new. Oh, Holy Moses! I say, don’t you care for a spot of oil yourself … after your bath, I mean … mustn’t catch COLD! I’d be glad to –

      J: Presently … not yet. What splendid muscles you have, my Englishman.

      F: Exercise and clean living – oh, God! See here, kunwari, I think that’ll do me nicely, don’t you know –

      J: I can judge better than you. Now, be still, and listen. You heard all that passed at my durbar? So … you can assure Broadfoot sahib that all is well, that my brother’s death is forgotten, and that I hold the Khalsa in the hollow of my hand … like this … no, no, be still – I was only teasing! Tell him also that I entertain the friendliest feelings towards the Sirkar, and there is nothing to fear. You understand?

      F (whimpering): Absolutely. Speaking of friendly feelings –

      J: A little more oil, I think … But you must warn him to withdraw no regiments from the Sutlej, is that clear? They must remain at full strength … like you, my mighty English elephant … There now, I have teased you long enough. You must be rewarded for your patience. (Leaves off and kneels back, reaching for drink.)

      F: Not before time –

      J (fending him off): No, no – it is your turn to take the oil! Not too much, and begin at my finger-tips, so … very gently … smooth it into my hands … good … now the wrists … You will inform Broadfoot sahib that the Khalsa will be dispersed until after the Dasahra, when I shall instruct the astrologers to choose a day for opening the war … now my elbows. But no day will be propitious for many weeks. I shall see to that … now slowly up to the shoulders … softly, a little more oil … Yes, I shall know how to postpone and delay … so the Sirkar will have ample time to prepare for whatever may come … The shoulders, I said! Oh, well, you have been patient, so why not? More oil, on both hands … more … ah, delicious! But gently, there is more news for Broadfoot sahib –

      F (oiling furiously): Bugger Broadfoot!

      J: Patience, beloved, you go too fast. Pleasure hasted is pleasure wasted, remember … Tell him Lal Singh and Tej Singh will command the Khalsa – are you listening? Lal and Tej – don’t forget their names … There, now, all is told – so lie down again, elephant, and await your mahout’s pleasure … so-o … oh, gods! Ah-h-h …! Wait, СКАЧАТЬ