Read The Temple Dancer Online

Authors: John Speed

Tags: #India, #Historical Fiction

The Temple Dancer (14 page)

"You poor thing! How old were you?"

Maya's voice was steady, but now tear after tear spilled down her cheek.
"Two, maybe? Three? I left her there, in the night, on the bare ground.
I spread more leaves over her, like a blanket. She was so beautiful, so still."
A sob escaped her. "I left her," she choked.

"You were a child!" But Maya covered her face and Lucinda sat silent.
Then a golden glint in the sword box caught her eye. Lucinda lifted out a
golden rial, rudely sawn in two. "What's this?" she asked. But Maya did not
hear her for sobbing, and Lucinda set it down without another word.

The elephant, too big for the dharmsala stables, stood near one of the
guesthouses, lit by the flames of a small fire. Bits of ash danced like fireflies
into the starlit sky.

Despite the dharmsala guards, Pathan had stationed his own men at
key points of the compound. He found his way to the fire. Soon Da Gama
and Geraldo came. Da Gama had brought a few sadc.le blankets from the
stables; he and the others sat on them tailor-fashion. All but the mahout,
who squatted on his haunches, keeping his hands pressed against his lips as
if blowing them for warmth, occasionally pushing twigs toward the flames
with his bare toes, as nimble as a monkey's. Each time he did this, Geraldo
blinked in amazement.

The faces of the men, lit from below, took on an eerie glow. There was
little talk: instead the men focused on the flames, which they watched in
tired, silent fascination.

Finally, huffing as if at the end of a race, Slipper joined the circle. The
farangs slid apart to make him room, but Pathan and the mahout did not
move. With a number of grunts and sighs Slipper sat and tucked his fat legs
beneath him. He held his pudgy hands toward the flames, and rubbed them
together enthusiastically. "Well, well," he blinked. "What a cozy night!"

The men might otherwise have eyed each other in silence all night, but
Slipper's piping voice acted like a lubricant. He turned from face to face
with happy appreciation, asking polite questions and nodding openmouthed as if astonished by the answers. Whenever someone made an observation, Slipper glanced at the others, offering everyone a chance to
respond, like an auctioneer encouraging a bid. When anyone spoke, he let
out a tiny happy sigh.

Soon Geraldo was telling of the whores of Macao. "They're tiny as
dolls! I went to one, I swear, she had a calha no bigger than the neck of a
wine bottle; I swear, I could barely stick my little finger in!"

"Sounds like a perfect fit for you!" Da Gama said.

"To the contrary, she nearly fainted when she saw the size of my
fonte. She had to pry herself open with her thumbs to get me in. When
she sat on me, I thought I'd split her in two. Each time she moved, the
suction! Madonna!"

Slipper's tiny eyes glowed as the tip of his tongue circled his lips. "You
should let me give you a shampoo sometime. Many men enjoy it."

The deep laughter of the circle died away, and all eyes turned to Geraldo, awaiting his response. "You are most kind to offer," Geraldo answered. And the others, knowing that they would be traveling with both
the eunuch and the young farang for many days, hid their smirks.

"You should go to Macao, Deoga," Geraldo said to Da Gama. "There if
you had but one rial you could buy yourself a dozen whores."

"If I had forty thousand rials, I'd buy a nautch girl," Da Gama answered. He nodded toward Maya's room. "That one, and no other." Da
Gama lifted an eyebrow to the others. "But I don't, so I won't. Anyway,
she's young enough to be my daughter. My granddaughter for that matter.
My dream is to find a feather bed, and a nice fat aya."

"What's stopping you, uncle?" Slipper asked sympathetically.

Da Gama frowned. He didn't like artificial pity, particularly from
someone he considered inferior. "What's stopping any of us, eh, senhor eunuch? Nothing but money. Gold slips through my fingers like water
through a sieve. Like everybody, I'm poor." He nodded ruefully toward
Pathan. "Like everybody but this fellow, eh?"

Pathan's eyes narrowed. "If you wish for money, my friend, you need
only ask. I owe you much."

"You owe me nothing. Certainly not money. That would be too easy,"
Da Gama answered. "Someday, maybe, I will ask a favor." Pathan solemnly
lifted his hands to his forehead.

The mahout cleared his throat. "You want money? Just find the Web of
Ruci. They say a farang hid it, somewhere near here. So maybe a farang
would have better luck finding it. Maybe a farang would know where to
look." Slipper gave the mahout a particularly unpleasant look.

"What's the Web of Ruci, sir?" Geraldo asked.

The mahout's eyes glowed. "When our sultan married, may his soul be
in Allah's care, the mukhunni Brotherhood commissioned a wedding present." He looked to Slipper as if seeking confirmation, but the eunuch said
nothing. "What the hell else do eunuchs do with their money, anyway?
They've got no families, no expenses. I'll tell you: they use wealth to buy
power. The Web of Ruci was baksheesh for the sultan-a wedding headdress; a net of diamonds and pearls the size of pebbles."

"Diamonds that big?" Geraldo's eyes widened.

The mahout's faced glowed in the fire's flames. "Everyone who saw it
marveled. The jeweler called it the Web of Ruci, the Web of Effulgence.
Then, poof, it disappeared."

"What became of it?" Geraldo asked.

"No one knows. The mukhunni were fools: they entrusted a settlement
man to transport it to Bijapur, a damned farang. He never arrived, and the
Web of Ruci disappeared. The eunuchs have searched for it these fifteen
years without success." The fire crackled, and behind them, the elephant
groaned in its standing dream.

"If you believe the stories, maybe," Pathan said softly.

Slipper held his hands out. "The Web is real. I myself held it with these
very fingers. They were not so fat then." The eunuch sighed. "If you want
to know, I was one of three brothers who was to fetch the Web. We had
travelled in secret to the farang's house. That night the house was attacked.
We heard shouts. One of us ran for guards, but the bandits had gone by the
time they arrived. The farang was dead and the Web was gone. Our Brotherhood looked after his son, but the wife and daughter had fled into the
jungle. We never found where they went. Of course we never found the
Web."

"Well, then, what's the mystery? The bandits took it."

Slipper's face grew unexpectedly dark. "No-they never got it. They
thought the Brotherhood still had it. We caught one or two and persuaded
them to speak."

"The Brotherhood is well known for its persuasive powers," Pathan
observed dryly.

"Well, if they didn't take it, what happened to it? Anyway by now the
headdress has been broken up," Geraldo said, "and its jewels sold individually."

"No," Slipper said. "It's too beautiful for that. To destroy it so would
break your heart." He lifted his pudgy hands to the fire as if they were very
cold. "We think the farang hid it, or that he gave it to his wife to hide. We
have spent many years seeking it." His tiny eyes grew bright. "But it is too
beautiful. It cannot hide forever."

Da Gama chuckled, the dimming fire etching his face with shadows.
"Many have searched for the Web, Geraldo. It is a pleasant recreation. A few
years ago, I myself searched that very jungle. Why might I not be the lucky
one?"

"Did you find anything?" Geraldo asked. Da Gama's silence answered
him.

"Someday, someone will find it," Slipper said, almost to himself.

"If ever it was," Pathan put in.

"I said I held it," Slipper protested.

Pathan's eyed the eunuch, but his head did not move. "Yes. That is
what you said."

Slipper looked back, and then stood up with a grunt. "Time I went to
bed." He bowed to everyone except to Pathan and padded into the shadows, and the others followed. Only Pathan and Geraldo remained, gazing
at the hot embers and low flames.

"You don't believe him?" Geraldo asked Pathan when Slipper was out
of earshot.

Pathan shrugged. "I don't believe anything that eunuchs say, not anything, not ever."

Geraldo considered this in silence. At length he stood, bowed and turned
to leave when Pathan spoke. "That farang woman ... your sister?"

Geraldo looked back. "My cousin, sir."

Pathan's serious eyes met Geraldo's. "Do you find her attractive?"

"Some find her so." Geraldo waited, but Pathan did not answer, and
Geraldo did not bother to bow again.

Next morning, Lucinda cracked open the dharmsala door. She expected to
find Slipper snoring outside the room as usual, but there was only the
breakfast that one of Pathan's men had left discreetly on the porch. Maybe
last night's rain had driven the eunuch off, she thought.

An unexpected shower had fallen in the night, leaving the air clean and
brilliant. In the dawn light the rain-spattered courtyard sparkled like a thousand jewels. The red roses and magenta bougainvillea leaped toward her eyes,
framed by the brightness of the whitewashed walls. From the mountains
came a breeze so fresh it seemed never to have been breathed before.

"Chilly," Lucinda said as she latched the door. Maya was nearly finished dressing, and her skin had a golden glow that made Lucinda think
she'd bathed in cold water. "You're so pretty!" The words tumbled out unexpected. Maya lowered her head, embarrassed, and Lucinda blushed.
"I'm sure everyone tells you so."

"That is what a mother says to a little girl or a father to his daughter.
Maybe a husband says this to his wife. Priests raised me in a temple. They
never used the word."

"But you must know," Lucinda said.

"I know I fetched a high price, particularly with the merchants." It took
Lucinda a moment to work out what Maya meant. The nautch girl had taken
a vial of kohl and touched a black application stick to her eyes. She looked up
at Lucinda, blinking tears. The black powder settled against her eyelids and
cleared the whites, making her strange, gold-flecked eyes seem even larger.
"Do you want some?" Maya asked. Lucinda hesitated, then took the vial.
Maya helped her touch it to her eyes; her soft hand felt :=ull of vitality.

"I thought you ... had ... sadhus..."

"Blink," Maya said. As she closed the vial and put it in her bag, she spoke
without looking up. "Sadhus were the better part of my duties. They had
true commitment-forsaking all, yearning only to be one with the Goddess.
For them I was a grateful vessel. But merchants are how the temple made its
money. Of course they'd pretend a little, wearing a white garment or smearing themselves with ash." Maya said no more. She had taken another box
from her bag, tiny, maybe made of silver, and opened it ':o reveal a red paste.

"Do you take arsenico?" Lucinda said with surprise.

"This is my kumkum," Maya answered. She moistened her third finger
and touched the color, then pressed it to her forehead.

"Does it mean something, that dot?"

Maya laughed. "In some castes it does. I have no caste, so to me it's just
a dot." She then turned warily to the pile of clothing on Lucinda's trunk:
her corset, drawers, hose, petticoats and dress and who knew what besides.
"We'd better get you dressed as well. I myself will help you."

"It could take a while. Let's eat first."

They alternated eating and getting Lucinda into her complicated clothing. It took some effort to get Lucinda dressed. The corset in particular was
difficult. In the end they had to take out all the stays to get it laced. The
door latch rattled, but it was locked from inside. "Come, come, hurry!"
Slipper's voice piped outside the door. "Everyone is waiting!"

"Never mind him," Maya told Lucinda.

"I'm waiting." Slipper said impatiently through the c.oor. Lucinda patted her clothes into place and closed the trunk. She opened the door. "Hurry,
hurry," Slipper told her.

"You go first without me, dear. I really must rebraid my hair." Ignoring
the eunuch, Maya shut the door behind Lucinda.

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