Barbara Cleverly - The Palace Tiger

‘He may have rejected Padmini, Highness, but he did not spend the night alone.’

Udai Singh raised an eyebrow.

‘The American. Your daughter-in-law. .’

No one but his brother would have risked passing on this piece of information to the ruler. Udai’s reaction was explosive.

‘No longer my daughter-in-law!’ spat Udai Singh. ‘If, indeed, she ever was! The woman is doubly unclean — a foreigner and a widow. He might as well lie with a road-mender! But they are foreign, casteless and have their own habits.’

‘I am informed, Highness, that nothing other than conversation took place between them. It is possible that the American merely took shelter with him.’

‘Perhaps his tastes lie in other directions? Find out what we can offer him. But sport — that is certain to divert him. We must get the tiger hunt under way and as soon as possible. But, for now, the time has come. Send for the detective and for Edgar. I wish them to attend me here in half an hour. Send also for the scribe in case we need his services for an adjustment to the script and we’d better have the Resident though he is well aware of what I propose. I’ll perform this ceremony from the gaddi.’

He turned and walked slowly away, leaving the Dewan to clap his hands and issue commands to the flock of servants who were instantly in attendance.

Edgar and a palace khitmutgar were waiting for Joe as he made his way back to the New Palace. Edgar was not in a welcoming mood.

‘Where the hell have you been, Sandilands? Galloping all over the sky today of all days? Looks a bit disrespectful, wouldn’t you say? And sending that girl back last night? What the deuce was that all about? She’s not some dolly in a box on approval from Hamleys, you know!’

‘Just sticking to the unwritten rule of the Raj, Edgar,’ said Joe patiently. ‘The sahib never accepts a bribe.’

‘Unless it’s one of the three f ’s, remember — flowers, fruit or a — ’

‘Yes, thank you for the reminder! But I don’t need it.’

‘You could have caused offence. In fact, you’ve blotted your copybook twice already and you’ve only been here a few hours. Now listen! The ruler wants to see us both. Straight away. Probably going to give us our marching orders and who will blame him? So comb your hair and follow me.’

They walked along to the throne room, large and splendid and built to accommodate a thousand people. When they entered it was occupied by only five. The ruler sat in splendour on his red velvet gaddi, raised up on a silver base, his head protected by a golden umbrella held by a bearer. A wrinkled old man sat at the foot of the dais, ink pot and pen to hand. Zalim Singh stood at his brother’s right hand. Claude hovered discreetly in the background.

‘Gentlemen! Good morning! Delighted you are able to spare me a few moments. Wouldn’t impose but I have to ask your assistance with an affair of state. It’s very simple. I would like you to append your signatures to these documents.’

Udai held up two parchments decorated with several seals and many calligraphic flourishes. To Joe and Edgar they looked very important indeed.

‘My will,’ said the ruler. ‘Or, more precisely, a written statement of my wishes regarding the succession. I have already agreed the content with the Resident.’ He nodded briefly in Claude’s direction and Claude looked studiously at his shiny boots. ‘And it just remains for two good men and true to attest by their signatures that they have witnessed this to be my uncoerced wish.’

He beckoned to the scribe, who took the parchments from his hand and placed them on a portable desk at the side of the room. A fountain pen was produced and all awaited the ceremonial signing.

‘I say, sir,’ Joe protested, a prey to sudden misgiving, ‘surely this should be witnessed by dignitaries of Ranipur and not by two passing condottieri? Are there not some trustworthy court officials of ancient lineage on hand?’ he finished with a deprecatory smile to soften his gauche interjection.

‘Trustworthy court officials?’ said Udai, returning his smile. ‘Contradiction in terms, there, Sandilands. And witnesses have been known to disappear, have their minds changed, even end up floating in the lake. We’ve made two copies of this and you’re going to take one away with you. You may read it — indeed, I feel you should,’ said Udai helpfully as they went over to the desk.

Edgar snatched up the pen and, briefly scanning the document, signed without delay in the spaces the scribe indicated but Joe took a few moments to absorb the contents of the will.

No surprises here. Bahadur, the natural son of Udai Singh, was to become ruler on the death of his father and two regents were named to govern until the boy reached the age of eighteen.

Joe looked with interest at the names: Claude Vyvyan and Her Highness, the Maharanee Shubhada.

Joe signed and the scribe carefully rolled up the documents and wrapped each around with a swatch of red velvet. One he handed to the ruler and the other to Joe.

‘Quite a business,’ commented Udai. ‘And you will not be deceived, I know! This little performance is put on for the eyes of the British Empire. My own state and subjects are not so demanding and the succession is announced more simply. This evening my son, Bahadur, will eat from my plate at a public meal and, by this act, be recognized by all as my heir. Now that’s out of the way, why don’t we all go out on to the terrace and have a celebratory drink?’

They looked politely aside as Zalim helped his brother to rise from the gaddi and make his painful way out of the room, leaning heavily on his shoulder. Joe lagged behind, uncertain and disturbed. There was something about the composition of the will, just one small detail, that had struck him as odd. The date, 16th June, had been written into both copies in ink of a slightly different colour from the original. Stephens blue-black instead of Stephens black.

On an impulse, Joe approached the old scribe and began to help him fold up his writing table. He eyed the man surreptitiously. Obviously the man wrote in English but did he speak the language? How would he react to being asked a question? Oh, what the hell! Joe decided to take a chance on low English cunning and Indian eagerness to please. ‘How good is your memory, I wonder, sir?’ he said with a wide and friendly smile. ‘Can you remember the exact day in April the ruler asked you to draw up this document?’

‘Certainly I can remember!’ said the old man proudly. ‘It was the third day of April.’

Chillingly, his shot in the dark had produced an innocent piece of information which shored up the fantastical theory he’d been building since his visit to Surigargh. His first reaction was to get hold of Edgar and lay out his ideas but he suppressed it. He would never be entirely sure of Edgar.

Edgar was waiting for him in the corridor. ‘Now what are you up to? Not a good idea to be seen fraternizing with the lower degrees, Sandilands. Just keep your mind on the job in hand, will you? Remember you’re due to telephone Sir George this evening with a progress report. You’d better have something up your sleeve. He’s not going to be impressed when you tell him you’ve spent your morning going up for a five bob flip around the countryside and hobnobbing with the natives.’

‘You’re quite right, Edgar, old man,’ said Joe equably. ‘But I shall have the news of the succession to pass on and that’s quite something! The dark horse has come in first and it just happens to be the one Sir George has his money on. That’s bound to please him. . assuming he wasn’t already aware of the situation. He always seems to be one jump ahead of everyone else.’

‘Not so sure he’s going to like all the details,’ Edgar muttered. ‘“Woe to the land where a minor rules or a woman bears sway,” they say in Rajputana. And here, it seems, we’ve got a double dose of bad luck! Now, come on! We’re bidden to have a drink on the terrace. Better make it a quick one, if we can. I understand you have people queuing up to see you and I have a tiger shoot to plan with Colin.’