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The Englishman Herriard answered. It was as though her uncle had already washed his hands of her and had given her over to the other man. ‘You leave as soon as the vehicles and animals can be gathered and the journey provisioned. It is a long way and will take us many weeks.’
‘I remember,’ Anusha said. Weeks of blank discomfort and misery, clinging to her mother who was too proud to weep. Sent away because the big, loving, bear of a man who had hugged her and spoiled her, who had been the centre of her world and her mother’s universe, had cast them out. Because love, it seemed, was not for ever. Expediency conquered love. It was a lesson that had been well learned.
Then what Herriard had said penetrated. ‘Us? You will take me?’
‘Of course. I am your escort, Miss Laurens.’
‘I am so very sorry,’ she said, baring her teeth in a false smile. She would make every league a misery for him, if she could, the insensitive brute. ‘You obviously do not wish for this duty.’
‘I would walk the entire way in my bare feet if Sir George asked it,’ Major Herriard said. The cold green eyes looked back at her without liking or anger, as hard as the emeralds in his ears. ‘He is as a father to me and what he wants, Miss Laurens, I will ensure that he gets.’
A father? Just who was this man whose devotion went so far beyond a soldier’s obedience? ‘Fine words,’ Anusha said as she turned to leave. ‘I do hope you will not have cause to eat them.’
Chapter Three
‘If that man sends one more message about what I must and must not take I will scream.’ Anusha stood in the midst of harried, scurrying maids and searched for a word to describe Nicholas Herriard. With a phrase quivering on her tongue she caught Paravi’s amused gaze and compromised. ‘Budmash.’
‘Major Herriard is not a villain or a knave,’ the rani said, her tone of reproof in conflict with the curve of her lips. ‘And he will hear you—he is only on the other side of the jali. It is a long journey. He is right to make certain you will have everything you need, yet not too much.’
‘What is he doing there?’ Anusha demanded, raising her voice. If the wretched man was listening behind the pierced screen wall then he deserved to hear her opinion. The men who ruled her life had left her two choices: she could weep and give up or she could lose her temper. Her pride would not allow the first, so the major must bear the brunt of the other. ‘This is the women’s mahal.’
‘There is a eunuch with him and curtains have been hung around the room,’ Paravi hissed. ‘He is checking everything as it is packed.’
‘Hah! My uncle says I may have twenty elephants, forty camels, forty bullock carts, horses …’
‘And I say it is too much,’ said a deep voice from behind the far wall of pierced stone. Anusha jumped and stubbed her toe on a studded chest. ‘Anyone would think you are going to marry the Emperor, Miss Laurens. And besides, your father will want you to wear Western clothes and jewels in Calcutta.’
‘Mata told me about those clothes.’ Anusha marched across a stack of carpets until she was next to the jali. A large shadow on the silk hangings was all she could see of him through the screen. ‘Corsets! Stockings! Garters! She said they were instruments of torture.’
There was a snort from the other side. ‘They are not things a lady mentions in the presence of a man,’ Herriard said, laughter quivering in his voice.
‘Then go away. I do not require your presence here. I do not require your presence at all, anywhere, gloating because you are getting your way. If you listen from hiding like a spy, then you must endure whatever I say.’ There was a faint moan from the rani behind her. ‘Go away, Major Herriard. Twenty elephants are no slower than ten.’
‘Twenty elephants eat twice as much as ten,’ he retorted. ‘We leave the day after tomorrow. Anything that is not ready, or will not go on half the transport you have listed, will be left behind. And whilst I feel the greatest satisfaction in following your father’s wishes, I am not gloating.’
Anusha opened her mouth to retort, but the sound of footsteps leaving the other room silenced her. It was intolerable to be prevented from arguing because the man had the ill manners to remove himself.
‘Find me a dagger,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at the nearest maid, who was apparently rooted to the spot. ‘That at least I will take—I can imagine a nice broad target for it.’ And she would take all her jewels because when she was in Calcutta and Major Herriard was no longer her jailer she would need them to pay for her escape from her prison. From her father’s house.
Her dagger was in her hand and she would use it because the wretched angrezi was shouting at her and shaking her and drums were beating the alarm and there was danger all around.
‘Ah! Ra—’ Anusha’s shriek of rape was choked in her throat as a large hand clamped over her mouth. She had been asleep, dreaming, but now—
‘Quiet,’ Nicholas Herriard hissed in her ear. ‘We must leave, at once, in secret. When I take my hand away you will whisper or I’ll clip you on the jaw and carry you out. Do you understand?’
Furious, frightened—do not let him see that—Anusha nodded and he removed his hand. ‘Where are my maids?’ He jerked his head towards the corner and she opened her mouth to scream as she saw the two crumpled bodies lit by the flickering light of one ghee lamp. The hand came back, none too gently. The skin bore the calluses of a rider and chafed her lips. He tasted of leather.
‘Drugged,’ he murmured in her ear, pressing his palm tight over her mouth to foil her attempt to bite. ‘There are spies, I cannot risk it. Listen.’ He freed her mouth again.
Now she was awake she realised that the drums that had been echoing through her dream were real, their sound vibrating through the palace. She had never heard them like this, at night, so urgent. ‘An attack?’
‘The Maharaja of Altaphur has moved fast. There are war elephants and cavalry not four hours distant.’
‘He discovered you are here? That you had come for me?’ Anusha sat up, dragged the covers around her as Herriard sank back on his heels beside the low bed. He was wearing Indian dress again, but now it was plain riding gear with boots and a tight, dark turban to cover the betraying shimmer of pale hair.
‘He was already mobilising his troops—he must have been to get so close so fast. Then his spies told him that someone from the Company was here, perhaps that I intended to take you away, perhaps that I was negotiating. My guess is that he decided on a pre-emptive strike to seize the state before your uncle made an alliance with the Company.’
‘My uncle will not surrender to him!’ The floor was cold under her bare feet as she scrambled out of bed, the night air chill through the thin cotton of her shift.
‘No, he will stand firm. The raja has already despatched riders to his allies in Agra and Gwalior and to Delhi. The Company will send troops as soon as it receives the news and then I suspect Altaphur will back down without further fighting. Your uncle only has to withstand a siege for a matter of weeks.’
Was he attempting to soothe her with easy lies? Anusha tried to read his face in the gloom and control her churning stomach. ‘You will stay here and fight?’ Why one more soldier would make any difference, she did not know, but somehow the thought of this man at her uncle’s right shoulder made her feel better. He was arrogant, aggravating and foreign, but she had no doubt that Major Herriard was a warrior.
‘No. You and I are leaving. Now.’
‘I am not going to leave my uncle and run away! What do you take me for? A coward?’ His eyes flickered over her and she was suddenly aware of how thin her garment was, of how her nipples had peaked in the cool air. Anusha swept the bedcovers around her like a robe and glared at him as he got to his feet. ‘Lecher!’
‘I rather hoped I could take you for a sensible woman,’ he said with a sigh. He added something under his breath in English and she pounced on it.
‘What is this? A tutty-hooded female?’
‘Totty-headed. Foolish,’ he translated. ‘No, clawing my eyes out is not going to help.’ He caught her wrists with contemptuous ease. ‘Listen to me. Do you think it will help your uncle to have to worry about you on top of everything else? And if the worst happens, what are you going to do? Lead the women to the pyres or become a hostage?’
Anusha drew in a deep breath. He is right, may all the demons take him. She knew where her duty lay and she was not a child to refuse out of spite. She would go, not because this man told her to, but because her raja willed it. And because this was no longer her home. ‘No, if my uncle tells me to go, then I will go.
How?’
‘You can ride a horse?’
‘Of course I can ride a horse! I am a Rajput.’
‘Then dress for riding—hard riding. Dress as a man and wear tough cloth and good boots, wrap your hair in a turban. Bring a roll of blankets, the nights are cold outside, but only pack what you must have. Can you do that? I will meet you in the court below. Jaldi.’
‘I may be totty-headed, Major Herriard, but I am not a fool. And, yes, I understand the need to hurry.’
‘Can you dress without help?’ He paused on the threshold, a broad shadow against the pale marble.
Beyond words, Anusha threw a sandal at him and its ivory toe-post broke against the door jamb. He melted away into the darkness, leaving her shivering, the drumbeats vibrating through her very bones. For a moment she stood there, forcing herself to think clearly of what she must do, then she ran to the two maids. Under her groping fingers the blood beat strongly below their jawbones. Spies or not, they were alive.
She lifted the nightlight and took it round the room, touching it to the wicks of the lamps in every niche until there was enough light to see by. The mirrored fragments in the walls reflected her image in a myriad of jagged shards as she pulled out the last of the trunks, the one containing clothes for use on the journey. She dressed in plain trousers, tight in the calf, wide at the thigh, then layers above, topped by a long, dark brown split-sided coat. Her soft riding boots were there and she pulled them on, slid a dagger into the top of the right one and another, a tiny curved knife, into her belt.
It was quick to twist her hair into a tight plait to pile on the crown of her head and she wrapped and tied a turban out of dark brown cloth, fumbling as she did so. Sometimes she secured her hair like this when riding, but her maids had always tied it.
Money. How much money did Herriard have? Anusha pulled the long cloth free, rummaged in the trunk again and found the jewels she had intended to wear as they arrived in Calcutta, chosen to emphasise her status and her independence. She stuffed the finest into a bag, coiled her hair around it and rewrapped the turban.
Two blankets rolled around a change of linen, toilet articles, a bag containing hairpins and comb, tinder box. What else? She rubbed her temples—the drums stopped her thinking properly, invaded her head. Soon someone would come to check on her, fuss over her, shepherd her to the inner fastness of the palace where she really wanted to be. Where it was her duty not to go.
Anusha found her little box of medicines, added that, rolled up the blankets, tied them with leather straps and caught up the bundle in her arms. The walls were honeycombed with passages and stairs and she took one of the narrowest and least-used ways down, tiptoeing as she reached the doorway.
But Herriard had seen her. He stepped away from the wall, his eyes glinting in the reflected torchlight, and reached for the bundle.
‘I can manage. No, not that way, I must say goodbye to my uncle, to the Lady Paravi—’
‘And risk being seen? They know what we are doing and they have other things to think about just now. Come on.’ He pushed her in front of him through the door, back into the palace. He seemed to know the way as well as she, pulled her into alcoves as servants ran past, knew when to stop and slide into the shadows to avoid a distracted sentry, his attention on someone shouting on the battlements.
A slender figure stepped out right in front of them and she stopped so abruptly that Herriard ran into her and gripped both her arms above the elbow to steady himself. His body was hard and immovable against her back and his voice was a soft rumble. Suddenly she was glad of his size. When he released her it was as though a bulwark had been removed.
‘Ajit, are the horses ready?’
‘Yes, sahib,’ the man said and she recognised the major’s servant. He must have run up the steep road from the base court for he was panting. ‘Pavan and Rajat and a good mare for the lady. The lower gate is still open for soldiers taking up positions outside the walls, but we must hurry or we will be noticed.’
They ran, skidding on the black stones worn smooth by the passage of elephants and horses and men over hundreds of years, hugged the walls that loomed over them, slowed at every one of the gates where the road changed direction, all the better to confuse attackers if they got within the outer defences.
One more gate, Anusha thought, as she bounced painfully off a ring set in the wall. There was a cry ahead, a thud and Herriard stopped, bent over Ajit’s sprawled figure.
‘Collarbone, sahib,’ the man gasped. ‘Broken. I am sorry.’ He sat up and she saw his right shoulder sloped down at an unnatural angle. In the torchlight his face was grey.
‘You must stay.’ Herriard helped him to his feet and propped him up against the wall. ‘Go back up and see the court physician. He is to be trusted. Tell him to let his Highness know we are safe away.’
‘Sahib, take my bundle, too—there are weapons.’
‘I will. You take care, Ajit, my friend, I will see you in Calcutta.’
Herriard picked up the fallen bundle, took Anusha’s arm and dragged her on. ‘How good a rider are you?’ he demanded as they slowed for the final gate before the lower court. He stopped, watchful, the shadows of the vicious spikes set at the height of an elephant’s forehead lying in bars across his face.
‘Excellent. Of course.’ She looked up at the rows of handprints at the side of the gate, left by the women who had gone through it to become sati on their husbands’ funeral pyres. She shuddered and the Englishman felt it and followed her gaze.
‘Another good reason for not marrying a maharaja twice your age,’ he observed as he took her elbow and steered her into the courtyard.
‘Do not touch me!’
He ignored her until they were past the bustle of the elephant lines and into the straw-strewn stables, virtually empty now the cavalry had ridden out. Then he stopped, jerking her against him. He would say it was so he could keep his voice low, but she knew it was a show of dominance.
‘Listen to me, Miss Laurens. Hard as it may be for you to believe, your beauty does not inflame me with lust and, even if it did, I am not fool enough to waste time dallying with you when a small war is about to break out around our heads.’
He released her and began to strap the blanket rolls behind the saddles of the three horses that still stood in the stalls: a handsome, raking grey, a smaller, well-muscled black and a bay with the brand of her uncle’s stud. ‘Take this.’ He thrust the bay’s reins into her hand. ‘When I need to touch you, I will touch you, and when I do you had better be prepared to obey me because it will be an emergency. I promised your father I would get you back to him, but I did not promise him not to tan your backside in the process.’
‘You … swine,’ Anusha hissed.
Herriard shrugged. ‘If I am, then I am the swine who is going to keep you alive. And, while we are on the subject of touching, I should point out that you are the one who sneaked into the bathhouse and touched me when I was naked. Your hands were cold and your technique could do with some work.’ He led out the other two horses and tied the black’s reins on its neck—the blanket rolls were strapped to its back. ‘Here, I’ll give you a leg up.’
‘I do not need your help.’ Anusha jammed her foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. ‘And I only wanted to see—’ She shut her mouth in confusion at where her temper had led her.
‘See what?’ He was up on the grey now. In the torchlight his lean features showed nothing but amused curiosity.
‘What colour you were,’ Anusha snapped.
‘And your curiosity was satisfied?’ Herriard clicked his tongue and the grey and the black moved out into the yard. Anusha dug in her heels and sent her horse after them.
‘Yes. Where you are not touched by the sun you are pink. Not white at all.’ She would not be shamed or embarrassed by him.
‘I suspect that after many days with you I will be turning white on a regular basis,’ he said. ‘Now, be quiet and cover yourself.’ He pulled the tail of his turban round and tucked it in to veil the lower part of his face. Seething, Anusha followed his example and the three horses passed out of the main gate and down the road towards the town without challenge.
She twisted in the saddle for a last look at the great walls towering above her, the fort that contained a palace, the palace that had been her home. Now she was simply a fugitive, neither Anusha, the raja’s pampered niece, nor Miss Laurens, the rejected daughter of an Englishman. The thought was frightening and strangely liberating. She did not have to think about where she was going or how she would get there—for days she would be floating on the stream of fate.
At the pressure of her heels the bay drew alongside Herriard’s big grey. ‘Where do we go?’ she asked in English. She had best practise it, she supposed.
‘Allahabad to start with. Speak Hindi.’
‘So we do not attract attention?’ Anusha tucked the end of the cloth more snugly into the turban as he nodded. ‘You do that without a word spoken. You are too big and too pale.’ She would die rather than admit that she found the sheer size of him comforting.
‘With my hair covered I can be taken for a Pathan,’ Herriard said.
‘They are tall and light-skinned and they have grey eyes, some of the men from the north, I have seen them,’ she agreed. ‘But your eyes are green.’
The town was seething like a disturbed ant heap with the news of the maharaja’s approaching army. The bay snorted and sidled at the press of bullock carts, the running figures and the trains of camels. Herriard reached for her rein, then withdrew his hand when she hissed at him. She had her mount back under control within seconds.
‘I am flattered that you noticed my eyes.’ He skirted round a cow that lay in the middle of the road chewing the cud as it ignored all around it with complete indifference.
‘You should not be. Of course I noticed—you are different. Strange,’ she added to make certain he did not think it a compliment. ‘It is a long time since I saw someone like you.’
He did not answer her, but guided his horse around a spitting, grumbling knot of camels and out over the rickety bridge that spanned the river. So, he was either not easy to goad or he simply dismissed her as unimportant. The moon was up, noticeable now they were away from the torches and the fires, and the angrezi stood in his stirrups to survey the road in front of them.
‘We can take that track there.’ Anusha pointed. ‘It cuts through the fields and it will be deserted now. We will make better time and no one will see us.’
‘And we will leave the tracks of three horses plain on soil that is trodden only by bare feet and oxen. Here, on the road, we will be less easy to track.’
At least he explains, Anusha conceded, then the implication hit home. ‘We will be followed?’
‘Of course. Once it is realised that you are no longer in the palace the maharaja’s spies will pass the word out. I am counting on half a day’s start, that is all.’
Anusha’s stomach tightened. Suddenly the Englishman’s frankness was no longer so welcome. ‘It is more dangerous out here than in the fort. Why did we not stay there until help came?’
He shot her a glance, the silvery light catching his eyes, making them unreal, like the greenish pearl of the inside of a shell. ‘Because your uncle could not be certain that he could protect you within the palace. Your father makes you a very tempting prize for a man who wishes for nothing but his own power and to keep the Company at bay.’
‘I was in danger within the palace?’
‘I think so. I removed you easily enough, did I not?’
‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. Treachery, spies, danger, lies. And she had thought her life had been so tranquil, so … boring. I could have been kidnapped at any time.
‘Frightened?’
‘Of what?’ she demanded. ‘There is much to choose from.’
That surprised a laugh from him. ‘Of the pursuers, of the journey, of where you are going. Of me.’
‘No,’ Anusha lied. She was afraid of all of those things, but she was not going to admit it. His faint snort of derision showed what he thought of that.
