Barbara Cleverly - The Damascened Blade

Lily nodded. Iskander looked up, surprised and anxious.

‘When she went into the garden she heard Minto growl as she passed his box which at that time was at the bottom of the stairs. But she saw that the garden was already occupied by others who could not sleep. There were two figures seated on the marble bench. Could you tell us what you saw, Lily?’

‘It was Zeman and Iskander. They seemed to be arguing. Or at least Iskander was angry with Zeman – Zeman was just laughing. I guessed it was a private moment and I didn’t want to interrupt – I mean, it was hardly the time for a sociable chat – so I hid behind a tree and went back into the guest wing after they did. Oh, and this time, Minto didn’t growl at me.’

‘This tells us two important things,’ Joe went on. ‘That at the time Grace gave us for his death Zeman was alive and well, and this must cast doubt on the whole of Grace’s testimony. It was this false timing that alerted Iskander to the possibility of dirty work at the crossroads and inspired him to pick up a hostage and flee with him until we British had begun to acknowledge the obvious facts.’

Iskander nodded.

‘And secondly, that Minto was no longer in his box when Lily returned to her room. So, where was he? Where more likely than where we see him now? Tucked up with his mistress. Can you confirm this, Betty?’

Betty cleared her throat and spoke carefully. ‘Yes, Joe, that’s true. At home in Peshawar he sleeps on my bed and I suppose he couldn’t understand why he was suddenly being banished, and in this strange place. James and I locked our door at about eleven, I think.’

‘Yes, I heard you while I was on my beat,’ Joe confirmed.

‘Well, we talked about our evening for a bit and James fell asleep at about midnight, I should guess. I stayed awake because I wasn’t well. In fact I was sick. At about one o’clock. Not sure if it was so-called “morning” sickness striking again – it can happen any time of day or night, did you know that? – it doesn’t have to be in the morning. James was so fast asleep I didn’t want to disturb him so I crept about and used the washing bowl in the gulskhana. I decided to leave it there till morning. It was very late and, well, I didn’t know what else to do. When I was getting back into bed there was a scratching at the door. Minto. He wouldn’t go away and started whining and making a noise. I unlocked the door and let him in. He leapt at me and was so fussy I forgot to lock the door again. He settled down on my bed and I think we both fell asleep.’ She paused, unwilling to go on to the next chapter.

Joe continued while she put her recollections in order. ‘Iskander has told us that what appeared to Lily to be an argument in the garden was most certainly at least a difference of opinion. Iskander was trying to dissuade Zeman from carrying out his long-held plan of assassinating James.’

Joe paused to allow everyone to react to this in their own way. For once Sir George seemed to show the greatest surprise. He went on, ‘Badal. This was revenge for the deaths at James’s hand of his two older brothers twelve years ago. The ideal moment had come and Zeman was not going to let it pass. He had made his plans for escaping from the fort with his men, Iskander was unwillingly standing by and Zeman had changed into uniform ready for the long ride back to Afghanistan. At three o’clock he left his room and set off up the stairs to James’s room.’

Betty began to shake and James put an arm around her. ‘I’ll tell you what happened next,’ he said sharply, ‘because this part concerns me and, quite honestly, I wish for Betty’s sake it could have been left to lie!’ He gave George a sour look and continued in the clear-cut, unemphatic tones of a soldier. ‘I woke at whatever time you say it was with a knife at my throat. Zeman had a hand over my mouth and the point of his dagger pricking my jugular vein. He didn’t want to kill me while I was unconscious – he woke me deliberately because he wanted me to understand why I was about to die. He hissed the names of his brothers and said he’d been there in the hills watching when I killed them all those years ago.’ He paused for a moment and shook his head. ‘He could only have been a child of ten. He was the one who fired a jezail at me. A jezail! Must have been as big as he was! He’d tracked me down and made a point of getting to know me when we met in Peshawar. I thought he liked me. As a matter of perverse fact, I think he did. But whether he liked me or not would be neither here nor there against the compulsion of badal: the dismal danse macabre of vengeance and counter vengeance. I’ve seen it before and I know how implacable, how destructive, it can be,’ said James slowly. ‘But that’s the Pathan way. How we forget! They’ll plot and plan and take years if necessary to get something right.

‘But there was something even Zeman couldn’t have calculated for! Frightful little Minto! He woke up and just went for him! Launched himself across the space between the beds and went for his arm. The arm holding the dagger. Took Zeman completely by surprise. He started to pull his arm away but not fast enough and the dog got his teeth into Zeman’s sleeve. He missed his flesh but it was enough. He swung his weight on Zeman’s sleeve and fell between the beds, hanging on. That was deflection enough for me! While Zeman was trying to shake him off I picked up the candlestick by my bed – it’s Benares brass, heavy and with a square base as I’m sure you’ve already checked, Joe – and I hit him on the head with it. A lucky blow, I think, because he slumped down without a murmur and I’m pretty sure he died very quickly after that.’

This was the account Joe had expected from James. He waited a moment to see if James had anything to add but his friend remained silent and, as it seemed to Joe, weary.

‘Three o’clock and you and Betty were left with quite a problem!’ said Joe. ‘A guest, a military guest of some standing and influence, lying dead from a blow to the skull in the bedroom of the commanding officer of Gor Khatri. I wouldn’t like to have to unravel all the implications of the code of melmastia! But you saw that it was a situation which could so readily be exploited by anyone with a fancy to do so, and they are thick on the ground in this part of the world! Afghan and Afridi would both have been at your throat next. As Grace pointed out to me, wars have started with much, much more trivial pretexts.’

‘For the good of everybody, we had to pass it off as a death from natural causes,’ Betty said. ‘But we couldn’t do that without Grace’s help.’

‘So I went along to Grace’s room and asked her to attend Betty who’d been sick and that’s what she thought she was being called to do when you opened your door and saw us in the corridor,’ said James.

‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘The last person you would want to find sticking an oar in – Sandilands of the Yard!’

‘Honest Joe who can’t be doing with cover-ups and the diversion of the truth!’ James said, remembering. ‘Bit awkward that, I have to admit! But we did what we had to do. Grace came into the room and checked Zeman. He was dead by then… ’

‘Yes, nothing anyone could have done for him,’ said Grace. ‘And, while I’m in the witness box, so to speak, I’ll just say that the real cause of death, the one I should have given at the autopsy was – a blow to the head resulting in subdural haemorrhage. The sharp edge of the candlestick had been to some extent blunted by a fold of Zeman’s turban but the blow had been delivered with force enough to crack the skull and rupture blood vessels under the bone and bleeding had occurred internally into the space between the skull and the brain membrane. His thick hair also to a large extent concealed the wound which was not in itself very dramatic in appearance. You can imagine for yourselves the imperatives which led me to decide there and then to conceal the violent nature of this death.’