questions — politely.'
She turned her head towards the little chamberlain. 'Is this true?'
He puffed and flapped his arms, all eagerness. 'Indeed, exalted highness! Not a word did the colonel sahib say — not even under the cruel torture! He did not even cry out — much … oh, he is an officer sahib, of course, and —'
Poor little bastard was hoping to butter his bread on the right side, of course, but I wasn't sure he was backing a winner here; she was still looking at me as if I was some carcase on a butcher's slab. The chilling thought struck me that it probably wasn't the first time she'd contemplated some poor devil in my situation … God, perhaps even Murray … and then she turned her head and called to Sher Khan, and he came tumbling down the steps double quick, while the sweat broke out on me. Surely she wasn't going to order him to -
'Release him,' says she, and I near fainted with relief. She watched impassively while he undamped me, and I took a few staggering and damned painful steps, catching at that hellish wheel for support. Then:
'Bring him,' says she curtly. 'I shall question him myself,' and without another word she turned and walked up the steps, out of the dungeon, and with the little chamberlain bobbing nervously behind her, and Sher Khan spitting and grunting as he assisted me to follow.
'Speak well of me to her highness, husoor,' he muttered as he gave me a shoulder. 'If I blundered in giving thy kitab to the Ruski sahib, did I not make amends? I went for her, when I saw he meant to ill-use thee … I had not recognised thee, God knows —'
I reassured him — he could have had a knighthood and the town hall clock for my part — as he conducted me up through the guard-room to a little spiral stair, and then along a great stone passage of the fort, which gave way to a carpeted corridor where sentries of her guard stood in their steel caps and backs-and-breasts. I limped along, relieved to find that apart from a few painfully-pulled muscles and badly skinned wrists and ankles, I wasn't much the worse … yet, and then Sher Khan was ushering me through a door, and I found myself in a smaller version of the durbar-room at the palace — a long, low richly-furnished apartment, all in white, with a quilted carpet, and silk hangings on the walls, divans and cushions and glowing Persian pictures, and even a great silver cage in which tiny birds cheeped and fluttered. The air was heavy with perfume, but I still hadn't got the stink of fear out of my nostrils, and the sight of Lakshmibai waiting did nothing to cheer me up.
She was sitting on a low backless couch, listening to the little chamberlain, who was whispering fifteen to the dozen, but at sight of me she stopped him. There were two of her ladies with her, and the whole group just looked at me, the women curiously, and Lakshmibai with the same damned disinheriting stare she'd used in the dungeon.
'Set him there,' says she to Sher Khan, pointing to the middle of the floor, 'and tie his hands behind him.' lie jumped to it, wrenching the knots with no thought for my flayed wrists. 'He will be safe enough so,' she added to the little chamberlain. 'Go, all of you — and Sher Khan will remain beyond the door within call.'
Dear God, was she going to set about me herself, I wondered, as the ladies swiftly rustled out, and the chamberlain hurried by, eyeing me apprehensively. I heard Sher Khan withdraw, and the door close, leaving me standing and her sitting erect, staring at me — and then to my amazement she sprang from the seat and was flying across the room towards me, with her arms out and her lace trembling, throwing herself against me, clinging to me, and sobbing:
'Oh, my darling one, my darling, my darling! You have come back — oh, I thought I should never see you again!' And her arms were round my neck, and that lovely dark face, all wet with tears, was upturned to mine, and she was kissing me any old how, on the cheeks and chin and eyes and mouth, sobbing out endearments and shuddering against me.
I'm an easy-going chap, as you know, and can take things pretty well as they come, but I'll admit that I wondered if I was mad or dreaming. Not much above two hours ago I'd been in Rose's tent in the safety of British lines, gulping down a last brandy and trying to read the advertisements in an old copy of The Times to take my mind off the ordeal ahead, with young Lyster humming a popular song — and since then I'd taken part in a cavalry skirmish, and skulked through a hostile nigger city in disguise, and been scared out of my senses by that fiend Ignatieffs appearance, and stretched on a rack in fearful physical and even worse mental agony, and been rescued at the last minute and dragged and bound in the presence of a female despot — and here she was clinging and weeping and slobbering over me as though I were Little Willie the Collier's Dying Child. It was all a shade more than enough for my poor bemused brain, and body, and I just sank to my knees under the weight of it all, and she sank with me, crying and kissing.
'Oh, my sweet, have they hurt you? I thought I should swoon when I saw — ah, your poor flesh!' Before I knew it she was down at my legs, soothing my scraped ankles with one hand while she kept the other behind my head, and kissed me long and lingeringly on the mouth. My amazement was giving way to the most wonderful mixture of relief and joy, and pure ecstatic pleasure in that scented dark skin pressed against my face, her open mouth trembling on mine. I could feel her breasts hard against me — and, dammit, my hands were tied, and I could only strain against her until she freed her lips and looked at me, holding my face between her hands.
'Oh, Lucky — Lucky Lakshmi!' I was babbling out of sheer delight. 'Oh, you wonderful, beautiful creature!'
'I thought you were dead,' says she, cradling my head down against her bosom — by George, that was the place to be, and I struggled my hands desperately to try to free them. 'All these months I have mourned you — ever since that dreadful day when they found the dead dacoit near the pavilion, and I thought …' She gave a little sob and pulled up my face to kiss me again. 'And you are safe, and back again with me … my darling.' The great eyes were brimming with tears again. 'Ah, I so love you!'
Well, I'd heard it before, of course, expressed with varying degrees of passion by countless females, and it's always gratifying, but I couldn't recall a moment when it had been more welcome than now. If ever I needed a woman to be deeply affected with my manly charms, this was the moment, and being half in love with her myself it required no effort at all to play up and make the most of it.
So I put my mouth on hers again, and used my weight to bear her down on the cushions — damned difficult with my hands bound, but she was all for it, and lay there drinking me in, teasing with her tongue and stroking my face gently with her fingertips until I thought I'd burst.
'Lakshmi, chabeli — untie my hands!' I croaked, and she disengaged herself, glancing towards the door and then smiling at me longingly.
'I cannot … not now. You see, no one must know … yet. To them, you are a prisoner — a spy sent by the British soldiers …'
'I can explain all that! I had to come secretly, in disguise, to bring you a message from General Rose. Lakshmi, dearest, you've got to accept it — it's an offer of life! Please, untie me and let me tell you!'
'Wait,' says she. 'Come, sit here.' And she helped me up, pausing on the way to fondle me again and kiss me before seating me on the edge of a divan. 'It is best for the moment that we leave you bound — oh, beloved, it will not be for long, I promise … but in case someone comes suddenly. See, I shall get you a drink — you must be parched — ah, and your poor wrists, so cruelly torn!' The tears welled up again, and then such a look of blazing hatred passed across her face that I shrank where I sat. 'That beast of Russia!' says she, clenching her tiny fist. He will pay for it — I will have him drawn apart, and make him eat that hideous eye of his! And the Tsar his master may go straight to hell, and look for him!'
Excellent sentiments, I thought, and while she filled a goblet with sherbet I thought I'd improve the shining hour.
'It was Ignatieff who set the Thugs on me that night — he's been dogging me ever since I came to India, spying and trying to stir up rebellion …'
I suddenly stopped there; she, after all, was now one of the leaders of that rebellion, and obviously Ignatieff was her ally, whatever her personal feelings towards him. She put the cup to my lips, and I drank greedily — being put on the rack's the way to raise a thirst, you know — and when I'd finished she stood up, with the cup between her hands, looking down at me.
'If I had only listened to you,' says she. 'If there had only been more time! I did not know … if only I could make you understand — all the years of waiting, and trying to right injustice to … to me, and my son, and my Jhansi …'
'How is the young fella, by the way? Well, eh, and thriving — fine lad, that …'
… and waiting turns to despair and despair to hatred, and I thought you were another cold and unfeeling
