The Temple Dancer (52 page)

Da Gama thought to speak, but Victorio had now looked away, and Da
Gama did not trust his tongue.

As they approached Victorio's tent, Slipper pointed out to Lucinda the many
indications of his improved state: the fine clothing, the rich jewels, the guards
at his command. "I am eunuch of the first rank now," he beamed.

"But I thought you already were of the first rank?"

"Oh, I said that. Once I had been, so it was not a lie. But now I truly
am.

Lucinda gave a wan smile. The sunset faded on the horizon, and the
darkening sky was filling with stars. She saw Da Gama coming toward
them, and greeted him, but for the first time that she could remember, he
did not answer her, not even to look up.

"What's wrong with Deoga, I wonder?" Slipper said as he held the tent
flap wide for Lucinda to pass, and followed her into Victorio's tent.

Lucinda shivered when she entered, though the stale air of the tent was
warm. She was glad for the dim lamplight, for she saw that Victorio had not
aged well. She made a mental note to meet him only in darkness. "Lucy,
dearest," the old man said, grunting as he stood to greet her. "How beautiful you've become. A grown-up woman now, and beautiful-quite, quite
beautiful." Victorio's rough hands took hers. "You're bashful, I see. No
matter, darling. Soon we shall be married, and there will be no more need
for shyness." He glanced to Slipper. "Leave us," he said in Hindi. "And
send in food."

When Slipper had bowed and left, Victorio beamed at Lucinda. "Some
wine while we wait?"

Lucinda declined. While Victorio took another flagon and arranged
himself on the divan, she stood and tried to make her face pleasant. "Too
bad about your uncle Carlos," Vittorio said. "Poisoned, you know. Or so
the doctor said." Victorio raised an eyebrow significantly.

"I thought he died of flux," Lucinda stammered.

"Anyway he's dead," Victorio went on. "So when we are married, you
and I shall have the entire fortune, you know. It's quite a lot. We shall be
comfortable."

Instead of a servant, as Lucinda expected, Geraldo came bearing plates
of spicy roasted goat, and another pitcher of wine. He gave Victorio an affectionate smile; to Lucinda, out of the old man's view, he rolled his eyes.
When he left, Victorio motioned for Lucinda to sit near his feet. He poured
more wine from the new pitcher, and this time did not bother to offer Lucinda any.

While he talked, Victorio stared past her, toward a panorama only he
could see. He told her that he'd sent word to Goa for their banns to be announced, and that as soon as a priest had come to Bijapur, the marriage
would be performed. "A small ceremony. Private. Only the finest people will
be invited-the grand vizier, the Khaswajara. Perhaps Commander Shahji."
Victorio rambled on. She should plan to make a household for them there in
Bijapur, worthy of their station. "Only the finest will do. But don't spend too
much, mind. Anyway, you'll have plenty else to do, soon enough."

Lucinda realized that Victorio was speaking of a baby. They would hire
an ayah to help. Lucinda imagined the future he described: she and a baby and a nurse in a strange house in a strange city, with a husband all too likely
to sicken soon and die. Suddenly Geraldo's offer did not seem as horrid as
it had a few days before.

"No." Lucinda found herself on her feet. "It shall not be as you say."
She turned and was nearly to the entrance before Victorio realized she was
gone and stopped his monotonous monologue.

"Lucy!" She turned. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving, Uncle."

Victorio chuckled, and then laughed so hard he began to cough. "And
where will you go, dearest?"

"You think I am without resources?"

"You are a child. You are my ward. You are my wife, or will be soon
enough. You are a Dasana and you'll do what you're told!"

"You are wrong. I have chosen a different path."

Before Victorio could say another word, she was gone.

Outside, Geraldo, Da Gama, and Slipper were eating near the fire. Farther
off, she saw shadows of sentries standing watch. Geraldo leaped to his feet
and joined her. "Well, dear cousin, how did you enjoy your husband?"

Lucinda passed him without looking up. Through the dark clearing
she hurried back toward her tent. She glanced behind her and saw that Slipper now followed her. "Leave me alone!" Lucinda shouted.

"I'm only coming for the nautch girl," Slipper whimpered as he followed her.

"Walk behind me, then," Lucinda said, and hurried on.

Maya looked up when Lucinda entered. "So," she said after a glance at
Lucinda's face.

"So," Lucinda answered.

Maya rose and took her hands. "It is my turn next." She embraced Lucinda and whispered in her ear, "Do nothing until I return. Do you understand me? Do nothing! There is time, sister, there is time. Wait for my
return. We'll talk and make a plan."

Slipper came in then. "This is pretty," he said. "You two have become friends." But he blanched when he saw the way they looked at him. "Do
not harm me!" he cried, thrusting out his fingers as though to ward off the
evil eye.

Maya stepped away from Lucinda. "Let us go then, master eunuch."
She threw around her shoulders the silver shawl she'd worn as she left the
dhow in Goa. "Promise, sister, that you'll wait for my return."

"I promise," Lucinda answered, her voice scarcely audible.

"What mischief have you two planned?" Slipper asked, barely able to
contain his apprehension.

"The death of hypocrites," Maya whispered.

"What?" He gave a nervous giggle. "Oh, bless the Prophet, then I'm
safe," he added, as if playing along with Maya's joke. But Maya did not
laugh.

"By the Virgin's tits, you're beautiful."

Slipper had just shown Maya into Victorio's tent, and the old man,
stretched out on the divan, gazed at her with frank amazement. "To think I
own you," he breathed.

"Until tomorrow, master," Slipper said brightly.

"Yes. But mine tonight, eh? Come closer." In the lamplight, Maya's silver shawl shimmered like the moon. "Turn." She did, and let the shawl fall
from her shoulders so Victorio could see her golden skin. "You are trained
in tantra?" Maya now faced him silently, her face blank, but her eyes shining. "Leave us," he told Slipper. Victorio's face was flushed, and his eyes
were bloodshot. "Leave us now!"

"Now, you two will be careful.. ."

"Go now!" Victorio shouted, rising unsteadily from the divan.

Slipper waited by the fire, too nervous to sit, glancing often toward Victorio's tent. Geraldo acted as if it were a great joke. Every time a muffled groan escaped the tent, he laughed, sometimes so hard he had to wipe his
eyes. Beyond the fire, Da Gama had set out his pistolas in a line, and polished them, one by one, with his dark kerchief, never looking up.

At last Maya emerged, disheveled but no less beautiful. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders. She threw her shawl across her head. "Is he
still alive?" Geraldo laughed.

"He was when I left him." As Maya walked past the fire, she for a moment caught Da Gama's eye, but both instantly looked away.

"Shouldn't we go with her?" Slipper asked.

"What for?" Geraldo said.

"Tell me," Lucinda said when Maya entered. Lucinda lay huddled on a bed
of cushions, wearing only her slip as a dressing gown, and a rough blanket
pulled across her shoulders. She'd blown out all the lamps but one, which
flickered behind its pierced shade and cast eerie shadows.

Maya did not look at her. She let the shawl fall from her shoulders to
the floor. "He did not touch me." She laughed bitterly. "He made me
wiggle for him ... dancing, he called it. He said he preferred to use his
hand." Slowly Maya unwrapped her sari, and stood for a moment naked
before she slipped into a simple gown. Still silent, she pushed some cushions together to form a bed, and stretched on it with a sigh. At last she
turned to Lucinda. "He wants me to train you, as I have been trained."

She said the words simply, as though they were not foul, but all the
same Lucinda cringed.

"He's an old man," she continued, her voice carefully flat. "It will be
quicker if you move; quicker still if you kick his buttocks with your heels,
and nip his neck and suck his tongue." She said all this without a look at
Lucinda. "This may not be pleasant for you, but it will get things over
quickly. You might prefer quick. Or you can lie back, stiff and unyielding.
Then it will take a long time to be over. But you will make him miserable.
You will have to choose." Maya reached for her shoulder bag. "If it were up
to me, I would make him miserable."

"Was it bad?"

"No worse than having congress with merchants in the temple. We spoke of that, did we not?" Lucinda nodded. "He could use a bath. Perhaps
you can persuade him." Maya spilled the contents of her bag over the blanket in her lap. Maya found the twist of cloth that held the portion of arsenico Lucinda had given her. She pushed everything else back into her bag.

"I have mine, too," Lucinda said, holding out her silver box of arsenico. She clicked the lid open and the lamplight glinted red on the paste
inside. "What shall we do?"