Barbara Cartland - Lovers In Paradise

Whatever Bali was like, he now told himself, he would have to put up with it for a time, which was what the Queen Dowager wanted him to do.

He knew that, his mission in Bali accomplished, there were a great many other places that he would find of interest and not only in the immediate vicinity.

It would be amusing to visit India and compare the role the British played as conquerors with that of his own countrymen. There was also Siam, which would be well worth a visit and perhaps, nearer to home, Persia and Constantinople.

Those places sounded considerably more alluring than Bali and the Count cheered up at the thought of them.

He told himself, however, first things first and, as he looked around critically, he decided that the sooner he had his first report ready for the Queen Dowager the better.

He had been met at the Port by the Governor with what seemed to be a most efficient conveyance drawn by horses that the Count would have thought beneath his dignity to own had he seen them in Holland.

The Governor himself was a large overweight man in his late thirties with a complexion that made the Count suspect that he imbibed too frequently and too copiously.

He spoke in the sharp staccato way of a man who was used to giving orders to inferiors and the Count suspected that it was with somewhat of an effort that he made himself polite and conciliatory to his guest.

“We have been greatly looking forward to your visit, mijnheer ,” he began.

The Count was quite certain that it was untrue, but he acknowledged the politeness with a faint smile and, as they drove away from the Port, looked about him in what he hoped the Governor would think was an interested manner.

He had expected, because he had read about it, that the women would be graceful and he saw now that he had not been mistaken.

The custom of carrying everything that needed to be conveyed on their heads had given them the carriage of a Goddess and the slimness of a long-stemmed flower.

The Count was also intrigued by the fact that they were naked to the waist and the only coverings on their golden skin were bead necklaces that swung and shimmered.

Both men and women wore flowers in their hair and now, as if the Governor felt that he should excite the Count’s interest, he went into a rather lewd exaltation of the attractions of the females.

“You must see the dancing while you are here,” he suggested. “That is something worth watching and I am certain, mijnheer , that you will enjoy the cock fighting.”

The Count did not reply.

This was the one sport which he found particularly unpleasant, but he knew from what he had read that it had an almost obsessional interest for the Balinese and doubtless for their conquerors as well.

“We will do our best to entertain you,” the Governor went on, “although I am afraid that you will find life here dull and comparatively uneventful. There is no fighting here in the North. We see to that!”

He grinned and continued,

“I believe the Radjas in the South are always sparring with each other so sooner or later they will give us an excuse to step in and bring peace to the people.”

“Is that really what you expect to do?” the Count asked with a twist of his lips.

The Governor smiled.

“For the peasant one Ruler is very like another.”

“I doubt if that is true,” the Count commented, but he did not wish to make an issue of it.

They reached the Governor’s Palace, which was built in the style that could have been found in any part of the East. The large high rooms had punkahs swinging on every ceiling, but even so the heavy moist air seemed overpowering.

It had been a long drive from the Harbour but, although the Governor suggested that the Count might wish to retire to his own rooms, he refused.

Instead he sat down in the large and comfortable sitting room and, while the Governor ordered drinks, said with a note of authority in his voice,

“I am anxious while I am here to see the whole workings of your administration. The Queen Dowager has asked me to make a special report on North Bali.”

“I gathered that was why you had come here,” the Governor answered. “I only hope that the report you make will make it easy for us to obtain more guns and cannon so that we can conquer the rest of the Island.”

“That is not what I intend,” the Count replied, “but I will certainly put your request in my report if that is what you wish.”

“It must certainly be the obvious conclusion to our occupation,” the Governor replied.

He was about to say more when a servant came to his side.

“What is it?” he asked testily.

“The Juffrouw Barclay, who you asked to visit you yesterday is here, Your Excellency.”

“I said yesterday!” the Governor replied sharply.

“I think that the Juffrouw will make her apologies, Your Excellency, but she could not come.”

The Governor rose to his feet.

“If you will forgive me,” he said to the Count, “there is someone who wishes to see me.”

“Barclay does not sound like a Dutch name.”

“The young lady is in fact English.”

“English? Here in Bali?”

As if he was reluctant to give out any further information, the Governor said,

“She came out here with her uncle who was Dutch and a Missionary.”

“A Missionary!”

There was no doubt that the Count was surprised.

He had read in the books he had studied on the voyage over that in 1877 a law had been passed forbidding any Missionary to settle in Bali.

“As you cannot be aware,” the Governor explained seeing the expression on the Count’s face, “temporary terms were accorded last year to both Catholic and Protestant Missionaries, who wished to make a further attempt to carry on their work.”

“I did not know that,” the Count responded.

“It was, I do believe, entirely on the instigation of the Churches at home who felt that we were lacking in duty if we denied these heathens the benefits and comfort of Christianity.”

“I understood that the Balinese have a definite religion of their own,” the Count queried.

“That is true.”

“I also learnt that the plight of the first Christian convert has become legendary,” the Count said.

It was a story which the Count had found in every book he had perused about the Island. The man’s name had been Nicodemus and he had been both a pupil and a servant of the first Missionary who had set foot in Bali.

When the community he belonged to learnt that he had become a Christian they expelled him from his village, banned him from contact with his people and proclaimed him morally ‘dead’.

The unfortunate man tried to recruit other followers, but the villagers, terrorised by the threats to their Priests, ignored him.

Repulsed on all sides, poor Nicodemus had led an intolerable existence until driven to despair he had finally killed his Master and given himself up to be executed.

It was not surprising, the Count thought, that a law forbidding Missionaries had come into force. He found it hard to believe that only fourteen years later that things would be so changed that Christian Missionaries would again be accepted.

He then looked at the Governor and had a feeling that he was uncomfortable and was concealing something.

Making up his mind on the impulse of the moment, the Count suggested,

“I would like to meet this woman who has come here to see you. It would give me a chance to find out how her Mission is working.”

“It is not her mission,” the Governor stated in a surly manner. “It was her uncle’s.”

“But she works with him?”

“He is dead!”

“Dead?” the Count questioned.