The Temple Dancer (64 page)

From the Flying Palace word came that the Sultana wanted to be on her
way. Slowly the excitement faded back into the routine of readying for a
journey. Shahji invited Da Gama to join him for a few days in Belgaum, and he agreed. Then Da Gama walked to Wall Khan and accepted his offer
of a job and place to live.

As Da Gama came back slowly across the encampment field, the great
elephants once more were harnessed to the hoisting ropes of the Flying
Palace. He watched in fascination as they strained and grunted, as their mahouts calmly tapped their ears. Against their dark skin, their silver-studded
livery gleamed. Suddenly, with the groan of wooden beams flexing, the
palace rose into the air.

There was a flurry of excitement then, as when a great ship departs, and
the dock is busy with last-minute comings and goings. Da Gama scarcely
noticed when a small, veiled figure approached.

"You saved me once again, Deoga," her soft voice came from underneath her veil.

"I'm so glad you are alive!" He wanted to say more, to embrace her,
something.

"I wanted to die, Deoga. But now I too find that I am glad to be alive.
My old life is gone, Deoga. But at least you will remember me as I used to
be."

Da Gama could find no words to answer. He glanced around, and saw
that though they stood within the midst of much activity, no one gave
them heed.

"I hoped I would see you," he said. He took Maya's headdress sack
from his pocket, and discreetly pressed it toward her. He could hear her
gasp beneath the veil. It was heavier than she expected. "Open it in private
only," Da Gama whispered. "I had a copy made. That's what was lost."

But people were coming toward them then, and they could say no
more. Maya floated away, toward Wall Khan's suite. Da Gama watched as
she mounted the silver ladder to Wall Khan's howdah, and remembered a
day in Goa. It now seemed long ago.

As he headed on his way to join Shahji, Geraldo caught up with him.
Da Gama barely acknowledged him. "Something was up with that headdress." Da Gama kept walking and did not turn. "Slipper was a wrong sort,
but he was no fool. I think she did some trick. Or you did. I think maybe
both of you! Do you deny it?"

Da Gama stopped and stared up at Geraldo. "Listen," he said. "I'm
getting to an age where I don't care what you think, or anyone. Men do
things, right or wrong. Good men try to make up for their misdeeds. That's my stage in life, cousin." Geraldo flinched beneath Da Gama's gaze.
"You're rich now. You've done some evil-maybe we all have. But you've
achieved what you set out to get. You're rich! Why not try your hand at
being good?"

"And keep my mouth shut, you mean?"

Da Gama shrugged. From the corner of his eye, he saw Shahji waving
for him, motioning for him to depart. "Where are you headed now, Geraldo?"

"To Bijapur. The Khaswajara wants to discuss some plans."

Da Gama shook his head. "Try being good for a change. Around that
eunuch it will not be easy."

"And you?"

"To Belgaum for a while, then Bijapur."

"We'll have to spend time together. Bijapur must be a lonely place for
farangs."

Da Gama looked at Geraldo with a sad smile, as if expressing sympathy for a malady that Geraldo did not yet know he had. "For some men,
every place is lonely." Da Gama made a sweeping bow, and without another word, headed briskly to Shahji's horses.

There were worse things than loneliness.

Wali Khan proved a man of uncompromising honor: when he returned to
Bijapur with Maya, he sent to Da Gama his full fee and Pathan's as well.

Da Gama took up residence in Victorio's old apartments in the Gagan
Mahal and became reacquainted with Mouse. After a time, Mouse overcame his sorrow about Victorio's death, and resumed his genial demeanor.

Da Gama discovered for himself why Victorio was so fond of the eunuch. He was gentle and faithful and always anxious to please. For Da
Gama, Mouse's subtle presence brought comfort, and later pleasure. One
night when Da Gama could not sleep, Mouse brought out his haratala, and
the two cast shot until morning.

Over the next six months while he waited to deliver Maya to Murad,
Da Gama undertook a number of settlements for the vizier. While on the
road, he wore his old outfit-farang clothes, big leather boots-but when
he returned to Bijapur, he put on jamas. He found them more comfortable
now, and anyway Mouse preferred them.

Word of Maya's skill and beauty spread quickly through the city, and an invitation to Wall Khan's zenana became a much-sought prize. Hopeful
courtiers lavished baksheesh on the grand vizier; the lucky ones were asked
to supper at his palace. After servants cleared the food, musicians played,
and Maya danced.

Favored guests might meet her alone. Later some of these claimed to
have had congress with the nautch girl. If they exaggerated, Maya did not say.

The Sultana had taken a fancy to her. She often visited the harem of the
Khas Mahal, the most private palace. Oftentimes the heir would sit at his
mother's feet as the women chatted, and when the conversation flagged, he
would ask Maya to play ball.

As the time for her departure neared, the heir wrote a letter in his own
hand, offering to purchase Maya from the grand vizier-he offered a crore
of hun from the privy purse. Considerable discussion followed between the
Sultana and Whisper and the grand vizier. In the end, Wall Khan was chosen to explain that Maya was the seal on a promise of peace, and that peace
was worth much more than a crore of hun.

The heir hid in his room for days, and when at last he came out, he refused to see Maya anymore.

Geraldo thrived in Bijapur. He quickly established a household, and
invited many courtiers to his home. Courtiers, of course, never refuse a
free meal, and soon Geraldo gained many friends. He attended the Sultana's audiences and rode through the streets on a silver palki. But even
though he lavished gifts on the vizier, he never received an invitation to see
Maya dance.

The vizier in this took Da Gama's counsel. He had become friends
with the farang, who visited him often. Da Gama made it a point to avoid
Geraldo, and Wall Khan observed this.

"What's wrong with your young farang then, I)eoga?" he asked one
night while the two men sipped a sharbat.

"Maya does not care for him," was all Da Gama answered, and when
pressed would say no more.

About a month before he was scheduled to take Maya to Prince Murad, Da
Gama worked a settlement in Sarat for a friend of Wali Khan. Unlike many settlements, this one had gone smoothly, and Da Gama was much disappointed. He had brought with him a new man, an Irishman who'd made
his way to Hindustan from Persia, and he had hoped to show him how hard
the job could be. Now whenever Da Gama described the difficulties of his
role-the unexpected ways a settlement could explode into chaos-the
Irishmen agreed politely, as one agrees with the old host at a dinner when
he spouts some precious nonsense.

"You'll see," Da Gama told him. "It's not just easy money. Bandits no
doubt saw us on our way to Sarat, and they will look for our return now
our purses are full. They'd rather have the gold than goods. We must be
very wary.

"Oh, yes, sir," the Irishman replied.

They slept beneath the stars as Da Gama preferred, in a grove of
banyan trees near the Pratapghad road. As their campfire burned to embers, the sky hung so black and close it seemed the stars would drop upon
them. Peacocks cried in the forest, and they heard a panther growl. Then silence settled, and the peaceful chirp of crickets returned.

Da Gama just drifted off when he heard a thunk in the ground beside
his right ear, and in an instant another thunk beside his left. His eyes flew
open to find two arrows jutting from his pillow, inches from his head.

He sat up, cocking his pistola, in time to see two huge cocoons unfold
in a nearby tree. From their blanket hiding places, two bandits fell lightly
to their feet. In the glow of the dying fire there was just enough light to see
that one of them was tall and wiry, the other slight and young. Both carried
arrows notched in strong short bows.

Beside Da Gama, the Irishman snored.

The tall one waved his notched arrow at Da Gama's pistola. He uncocked the hammer and lowered it to the ground as they approached.

"Hello, cousin," said the smaller. Da Gama blinked up, uncertain. The
slight bandit's hands moved swiftly; the turban fell to the ground, and Da
Gama saw the unexpected face of Lucinda beaming at him. He leaped to
his feet, embraced her, and kissed her soft cheek before he realized that the
other bandit, chuckling beside them, was Pathan.

"We're bandits now, Deoga," Lucinda told him brightly, keeping her
voice low. "I wear jamas now. I ride horses, and I shoot."

"She's a dead shot with a short bow, Deoga," Pathan added with a note
of pride.

"See there?" she pointed to the arrows in Da Gama's pillow. "I could
have grazed your ears if Munna'd let me." Her look at Pathan was full of
affection.

"No need for pride, Lucy," Pathan beamed.

"Are you married?" Da Gama asked, and instantly regretted the
stodginess of his question.

Lucinda tossed her hair and laughed, and then grabbed her mouth for
fear the Irishman would wake. "Married bandit style," she answered, and
then reached to touch Da Gama's arm. "Did you worry about us, cousin?"

"Yes, of course. Every day-every hour."

"You are a good man to worry so, but there was no need. Munna is my
husband, and lets no harm come near me. And anyway, now I can protect
myself." She nodded to her short bow, and Da Gama saw that she held it
firmly, and that her palms had gotten wider, and the fingers stronger, and
her hands had the look of sureness that comes from practiced skill. She
moved with a springing quickness. And her eyes, Da Gama noticed now,
were no longer dreamy, but full of certainty and determination. Ruthless,
Da Gama thought, then felt shocked that the word had come to mind.

"We asked for this job, Deoga, so that we might see you, and ease whatever worries you might feel," Pathan said softly. "Also so you might not be
troubled too much by our brother bandits, who do not share our history."

"No, they would have taken everything," Lucinda said.

There was a silence then. Slowly Da Gama began to work things out.
When finally he saw how things stood, he felt as if he'd lived too long.
Wearily he placed his purse into Lucinda's outstretched palm.

Lucinda tucked her bow beneath her arm, and spilled Da Gama's gold
into her hand. She put half into her pocket, and replaced the rest. "Remember the ties between the Three-Dot clan and Wall Khan, cousin," she said
seriously. "This can be good or bad, but there is danger in forgetting. We
will tell our brother bandits that we took all your gold. If you hide the part
I've left you, no one will ever know."

The Irishman grunted in his sleep but did not wake. Da Gama gave no
sign of what he felt. Pathan lowered his head and murmured, "We must do
our best with the portion given to us by the Lord, Deoga. Now we are bandits, we must be good ones."

"The best," Lucinda agreed. Pathan moved into the shadows. "He's
getting the ponies," she explained. She tiptoed to place a kiss on Da Gama's cheek. "I'm glad I saw you. Find peace. Joy hides in unexpected places. Be
happy, as I am happy."

Pathan rode up, towing Lucinda's pony. "Salaam aleichem, Deoga," he
said. Da Gama bowed. Then Lucy bounded from Da Gama's side to the saddle in what seemed like a single jump. She grabbed the reins and wheeled the
pony close to Da Gama. "Don't be sad, cousin. Our paths will cross again."
With that she spurred her pony into the darkness, and behind her followed
Pathan.

"I do not think so," Da Gama murmured to the shadows.

Beside the fire, the Irishman snored.