Lady Helen Finds Her Song Page 15

  “It is beautiful,” Helen breathed. The palace was made of white stone that seemed to glow in the light. Large windows with carved Arabian-style arches decorated the facade. Onion-shaped domes adorned the top of the structure, with the largest in the center. Tall minarets rose from the corners.

  She looked at the other members of her company. From the expressions and noises the soldiers around her were making, she knew she wasn’t the only one enraptured by the splendor of the view. Glancing around her, she met Captain Rhodes’s gaze and smiled, giving a little shrug to show how excited and nervous she was.

  He raised his brows and smiled in an encouraging expression that set her at ease.

  ***

  The valley was much larger than it appeared, and three more hours passed before they neared the city.

  “And here’s the welcoming committee,” Jim said, pointing toward the city walls. A company of horsemen rode toward them in formation. A few carried banners.

  Captain Rhodes watched them approach and turned his horse to draw close to Jim and Helen. “I think it would serve us well if we do not reveal my understanding of the native language.” He spoke in a low voice that betrayed a hint of worry.

  “Wise,” Jim said, tapping his finger on his lip. “Give us the upper hand.” He motioned a soldier near and told him to convey the information to the others.

  Helen felt a prick of unease. This visit was purely friendly, so why bother with subterfuge? Perhaps Jim and Captain Rhodes were just being cautious.

  “And your servants, Captain,” she said. “You should remind them to speak to you solely in English.”

  “You possess a very sharp mind, my lady.” Captain Rhodes’s mouth twisted in a joking smile even though his eyes remained serious. “I am a bit worried that you so readily grasp the finer points of espionage; however, you are very wise to have thought of it. Overlooking the smallest detail could reveal us.” He motioned for Basu Ram. “The servants would not speak in the presence of a member of the court, but they might perhaps speak to other servants.”

  Helen felt proud at his compliment, but the unease remained. Why was deception even necessary?

  Basu Ram joined him. He listened to Captain Rhodes then nodded and moved back to his place.

  A shadow fell over the valley as gray clouds gathered in the sky. The peacock had been correct, and Helen hoped they would be indoors before the rains started.

  Most of the approaching horsemen stopped fifty meters away; only three continued to advance.

  Jim ordered the men into a line facing the Shah’s soldiers, and he rode forward with Captain Rhodes and Helen on either side of him, and a servant behind.

  Now that they were closer, Helen studied the men moving toward them. She knew right away that one was a servant. He was dressed plainly and rode behind the others. Another, she was certain, was a soldier. He sat tall and proud in the saddle, his eyes scanning them and his face unmoving. A red silk sash stretched from his shoulder to waist, and hanging from it was a golden-hilted sword. His wide silk trousers were tucked into leather boots, and a black turban wound around his head, held in the center by a gleaming red jewel.

  The other man was much smaller and did not appear as easy on horseback. He wore an embroidered cap that coordinated with the vest that hung open over his long, collarless shirt. Instead of boots, he wore slippers with pointed toes that curled upward, and he carried no weapon.

  When the groups were close to twenty feet apart, Helen followed the others’ example and dismounted. The servants held the horses’ reins, and the two groups approached each other on foot. When they met, the smaller man bowed, greeting them with flowery phrases and a stream of compliments that Helen thought were as insincere as the public facades of two rival debutantes. He introduced himself as a minister of the Shah’s court but did not provide a name for either himself or the soldier next to him. The minister’s voice was high and slightly squeaky, and he spoke in English with strange inflections that Helen had to concentrate on in order to understand.

  “Yes, uh . . . thank you.” Jim looked uncertain as to what to say in return. “Your valley is very beautiful, and it is an honor to be permitted to visit with Shah Ahsan Ali.”

  The small man nodded his head with a serene smile at the mention of his ruler’s name.

  Jim cleared his throat and plunged ahead. “I am Brigadier-General Jim Stackhouse, and this is Captain Michael Rhodes, and my daughter, Lady Helen.”

  The man nodded again, and Helen wondered if that was part of his duties as a minister of the Shah’s court. He motioned to the mounted group behind him, and a man rode forward. When he reached them, he dismounted and placed long, flowered garlands on Helen’s, Jim’s, and Captain Rhodes’s shoulders, one at a time, pressing his palms together and leaning forward in a low bow to each of them.

  Helen thanked him but noticed none of the men looked at her directly, so she moved her attention to the beautiful, fragrant flowers that hung around her neck. The blossoms were spectacular—red, yellow, pink, purple—and they were arranged in lovely patterns. Their perfume was exquisite, and Helen thought she wouldn’t mind wearing a floral necklace every day of the week.

  When the man had finished distributing the garlands, he returned to the others, and the small minister in the cap spoke again. “You must be very tired. Please allow us to escort you and your men to the palace, where rooms and refreshment await after your journey. If it pleases you, the Shah will allow you to rest this evening and meet with you on the morrow.”

  “Thank you. That is very hospitable. We appreciate it very much.” Jim motioned for the company to follow. When they crossed the space between them, the other soldiers moved to ride on both sides and behind the British soldiers.

  Helen looked nervously at the formation. They were surrounded. But she took comfort in the fact that Jim and the captain did not appear worried.

  The procession rode through a maze of narrow streets. Just like in Calcutta, the markets were colorful and full of life and noise. People stopped their conversations and watched as they passed, shutters in high windows opened, and eyes looked down on them. The roads sloped gradually upward until they reached the high stone walls and heavy wooden gate.

  Syces led away the horses, and the British soldiers were politely disarmed before being led through the palace gates.

  She followed Jim, who walked directly behind the Shah’s minister, with the remainder of the company following. The hair on the back of Helen’s neck prickled as they continued through a stone corridor lined with men in boots, red silk sashes, and black turbans. Torchlight glinted off the shining swords that hung from their sashes and the pistols tucked into their belts.

  Helen pressed closer to Jim. Although she could not see his face, she could tell by the way he walked that he was tense.

  They emerged into a courtyard, and the Shah’s minister proceeded forward along a path that led through the center of the open space toward a large door beneath a wide balcony.

  Jim walked behind him.

  But Helen could not follow. Her legs felt as though they were made of lead. Pacing along the edges of the courtyard were six chained tigers.

  Chapter 16

  Michael nearly plowed into Lady Helen, she stopped so suddenly. When he looked ahead, he realized why. Enormous Bengal tigers paced or lounged against the walls, taking advantage of the scant shade. Thick chains were attached to collars around their necks, and each chain was looped around a metal post to limit the animals’ reach. But the chains could easily be loosened to allow them to access every bit of the courtyard.

  He stepped closer to Helen and could feel her trembling where his arm brushed against her shoulder. “Do not worry; they cannot reach us on the path.” He kept his voice low. He was certain the Shah watched from behind the carved screens on the balcony or windows. The man was no doubt anxious to see how frightened the British soldiers would be when they saw his pets.

  Lady Helen still did not move, and the m
en behind them began to make noises, obviously wondering why they had stopped in the dark passageway.

  Michael found her hand and squeezed, leaning forward so only she could hear him. “I will walk with you, my lady. Nothing shall harm you while I am near.”

  He could hear her quick breaths. Lady Helen took a step forward into the sun, and Michael stepped beside her. When she turned toward him, he was startled by how white her face looked against the light-gray bonnet. Her eyes were wide, and her expression one of sheer terror.

  He felt a wave of anger toward the Shah and cursed the man for causing such distress to a young woman. Michael lifted her hand onto his bent arm and gently pulled her forward.

  The tigers watched them pass; occasionally one made a growling sound. From the way the animals paced and strained against their chains, Michael knew if they had not been restrained, the courtyard would be a killing field.

  With slow steps, Helen kept pace though he felt as though he was practically dragging her. He felt her entire body shaking and thought if he was not holding on to her, she might collapse. Ahead of them, Jim stopped and turned. He looked at Lady Helen, and his face tightened. He was also obviously angry with the Shah’s show of “hospitality” and its effect on his stepdaughter.

  When they reached the other end of the courtyard and stepped past the guards into a wide hall, Michael felt Helen droop. Jim held on to her elbow, and Michael reluctantly released her.

  The minister called to a servant, ensuring that the rooms were in order. The servant assured him they were and that supper awaited the travelers. Accommodations had also been made for the servants.

  Michael kept his expression impassive as if he had not understood the exchange.

  The minister excused the servant. “I will show you to your rooms, and if you like, perhaps the young lady would prefer to remove to the women’s quarters for the night.”

  Michael’s muscles compressed at the suggestion. Although he knew she would be treated well, he did not want Lady Helen taken where they couldn’t find her. Aside from queens, a prince’s harem consisted of concubines and dancers and other less-than-refined women. He didn’t think Lady Helen would be comfortable at all.

  “Thank you,” Jim said, “but I think my daughter would prefer to remain near to me.”

  Michael could have embraced the general for his perfect answer.

  The minister showed the officers to their rooms; then, when he was certain they had everything necessary for their comfort, he told them he would return for them in the morning and took his leave.

  Michael took a bit of refreshment from the common area then claimed a bedchamber in a suite shared by a portion of the officers. He stepped through the door and threw his jacket and garland onto a chair. He’d not realized how tightly he’d been holding his shoulders nor how the ups and downs of the day had taken their toll on his nerves. He was exhausted. He lay down on the bed, and it seemed only moments later that a servant knocked on the door, bearing a candle and note.

  Michael heard a thunderclap and glanced at the screened windows, then looked at his pocket watch. The time was well into the evening. He must have slept longer than he’d realized. The servant lit more candles and left.

  Michael looked at the note.

  Captain Rhodes,

  Please join Lady Helen and me in our quarters for supper.

  Brigadier-General Jim Stackhouse

  There was no flourish, greeting, compliment, nor anything that would make the note more than an order from his commander, but at the sight of it, Michael felt a surge of energy and knew a foolish grin spread over his face.

  He shaved, drew a comb through his hair, and changed his shirt in record time, arriving at the general’s rooms less than twenty minutes later.

  Lady Helen rose when he entered the sitting room. Michael noticed she had also changed her gown and freshened up. Her face looked radiant in the candlelight, and none of her earlier anxiety showed as she greeted him. “Captain, I am so glad you came to join us.” She held out her hand, and Michael took it, marveling that something as simple as the touch of her fingers could send a wave of heat up his arm. “Jim will join us in a moment. Please have a seat.” She motioned toward a sitting area.

  Michael sat on a carved wooden divan with silk cushions, and she took a chair beside him. He glanced around the room, admiring the silken window hangings with golden embroidery that shone in the candlelight. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, and a thick Persian rug spread over the floor. The furniture was beautiful, carved in excessive detail from dark wood and embellished with colorful pillows. But as magnificent as the palace decor was, it did not compete for his attention in the slightest with the young lady next to him.

  “Captain Rhodes, I am grateful for your assistance today. I was so very afraid, and you—you set me at ease.” She looked down at her hands that sat gracefully curled in her lap. “I could not have walked through that horrible courtyard with anyone else.”

  Her words hit Michael’s heart with the force of a musket ball. He took a breath as heat filled his chest, certain that she could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. “I am glad to have helped. I was quite nervous myself.”

  “You disguised it admirably.” She lifted her gaze to his. “You always seem so steady, Captain.”

  If Lady Helen had any idea what was happening inside his heart and mind at this moment, steady would be the last word she’d choose to describe him.

  “I—” Michael was spared from finding a suitable reply when Jim entered the room.

  “Good, you’re here. We’ve much to discuss.”

  A servant set a steaming tray on the dining table. Michael’s stomach rumbled at the smell of curry, steamed fish, and tomato chutney.

  “Perhaps it should wait, sir.” Michael looked pointedly at the man setting out the dishes. The Shah would undoubtedly have spies listening everywhere. Michael had already warned the other officers to watch what they said.

  Jim nodded. “You are right, Captain.” He led them to the dining table, and Michael studied the beautiful dishes. Gold trim wound through the detailed painted patterns. It was a pity that all of the tableware would be destroyed as soon as the ferengi left, he thought. What a waste of beauty.

  A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, followed by another clap of thunder. The smell and the cool of the rain floated in through the screens, making the room feel cozy and bringing the temperature to a comfortable level.

  The meal was delicious, and they kept their conversation to neutral topics. Lady Helen seemed to understand right away the wisdom of not discussing anything they would not want to reach the ears of the Shah.

  Of course she did, Michael thought. She was much more clever than most.

  Helen tried each of the dishes. She took a small bite of curry and rice, and her eyes opened wide. She swallowed and coughed then reached for a drink of juice.

  “It is very spicy, my lady.” Michael laughed.

  “You should have warned me.” She dabbed her watering eyes with her napkin. “I think I will stick with the fish.”

  She told him stories about her youth in Somerset, and she asked Michael about his own childhood in Bombay, listening with rapt attention as he described the cave temples on Elephanta Island.

  “And the festivals, my lady . . .” Michael continued. “My favorite is Janmashtami after the rains end. The festival celebrates the birth of Lord Krishna, and in Bombay, pots of butter are strung up high above the streets, and people build human pyramids to reach them.”

  “But why?” Helen asked. She squinted her eyes and pulled her chin back, her face a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

  “Krishna was a trickster. And the custom is an imitation of his childhood pranks. You would enjoy watching.”

  Helen laughed. “Or perhaps I should climb to the very top and snatch a pot myself.”

  Both Michael and General Stackhouse laughed at this.

  If he did not think too hard about the circums
tances surrounding their situation, Michael could almost imagine himself to be enjoying a dinner party with old friends. Lady Helen was engaging throughout the meal, and Michael believed her laughter capable of softening the cruelest of hearts. He was disappointed when the servers brought a plate of Mango Sandesh and Jalebi for dessert, for he knew the meal was nearly over.

  Lady Helen sampled a bit of the Bengali sweets and then laid her napkin next to her plate. “Supper was delightful, Captain Rhodes. I am so glad you joined us.” She moved to rise. “If the two of you would excuse me. I am very tired.”

  The gentlemen stood and bid her farewell as she exited the room. The light seemed to dim and the warmth to disperse with her leaving. Instead of remaining at the table, they moved to the sitting area while the servants cleared the dishes.

  Michael and the general spoke of mundane things as they leaned back in their seats, sipping their after-supper port—the repair on a wall of the fort, a proposed advancement for a junior officer, and the weather—until finally the last servant stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

  General Stackhouse leaned forward in his chair, his hands dangling between his knees. “What do you make of—”

  Michael held up a hand to stop him. He crossed the room to the door leading to the hallway and opened it quickly. Seeing no one there eavesdropping on their conversation, he returned to his seat but made certain to keep his voice low. “We could still be overheard, sir. Better to speak quietly.”

  The general nodded. “What do you think about the reception we received, Captain? Is it typical native courtesy to intimidate one’s guests?”

  Michael scratched the side of his face, glad that the noise of the rain would help keep their conversation from being overheard. “I don’t like it at all, sir. The man who greeted us is a junior minister at best. The Shah thinks to insult us by not sending a high-ranking member of his court.”

  Michael stopped speaking when he heard a commotion outside—shrieks and bleats followed by loud roars. He recognized the sound immediately. Hurrying to the window, he unlatched the screen and pushed it open. General Stackhouse joined him. The general’s rooms faced the courtyard they’d crossed when they arrived. The rain made visibility nearly impossible, but it was not difficult to deduce what was happening. It sounded as if goats had been loosed in the courtyard and the hungry tigers given slack in their chains to fall upon the smaller animals.