Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (21 page)

"They're too small for ordinary fieldwork, but, mounted on carriages, they're sometimes used with cavalry."

"Could some be bought?"

It was against the policy of all European companies to sell artillery to natives, but Ram was sure Hume could arrange things, if made profitable to himself, "It would take time to get them from Ostend. Also there must be caissons for powder and shot."

"Caissons can be made here," Baja countered. Then they fell into talk about fine-corned powder and six-pound balls that must be cast to a hairbreadth accuracy.

The hurricane had died by the time they regained the dhow; so after Ram had scrubbed himself back to his normal hue, they put out to sea and ran southward along the coast. He continued to bring the old charts up to date.

At Puri, in his best uniform and escorted by Baja, he had a meeting with the chief merchants. They tugged their beards when he asked if a factory could be built there. No, it was impossible for Feringis to settle in so holy a city, to which pilgrims came from all over India. Yet if a factory were started several coss away, there could be fine trade of European goods for leather, cotton, fabrics, silks, saltpeter and opium.

"It's time to dismiss those Bengalese," Baja said, as they were returning to the dhow. "Pay them off and I'll get men who fear nothing." Beating down Ram's objections, he added: "Good. Go aboard, I'll arrange everything." He was jubilant when he himself came aboard the dhow. "Four of my race will join us tomorrow. In three weeks is the great festival, which few Feringis have seen."

"You'd help me to be one of them?"

"Yes. I wish you to understand more about my people."

In three weeks, Ram thought, he could rendezvous with Miiller, who was working up from Coblom, and still get back to Puri. So he wrote to Ritter, reporting on the survey thus far, and also to Hume, asking him to order Ostend-made six-pounders and munitions for an unnamed merchant, who was acting for a warring rajah. Tlien he gave letters to Gopal Das with some money and ordered him to make his own way back to Bankipur with the boatmen.

Barely had the Bengalese left, when four Marathas came aboard,

grinning and eager, but far more awed by Baja than Ram, But they proved to be good seamen and soon had the dhow clear of the harbor.

In good time Ram was back at Puri, having met Miiller, with whom he exchanged copies of their reports and charts. But it was as Ram Singh, from Alwar in Rajputana that he went ashore at Puri, escorted by the Marathas. "I'd have made you a Maratha too, but you're too tall," Baja said, when adding to Ram's disguise by winding his turban ends around his chin, which itself was half hidden under his tunic's high collar. "Now, remember, be silent. This is the day of days for Vishnu, under his title of Juggernaut, and is most holy. In yonder blue mountains lies the Earth's Navel."

It puzzled Ram why the other, who boasted of being one of the Kshatriya caste, second only to the twice-born Brahmins, should bring a Christian to this holy spectacle. But Baja always was devious.

As they joined the vast crowd, he sensed its hysteria. Men, women and children were gripped by an exaltation bordering upon madness. Surrounded by his guardians, he moved slowly through the press. Dust choked him and the odor of sweating bodies nauseated him, though he knew that even the most scabrous beggar present had bathed ceremoniously and was wearing his cleanest clothing.

Then the Car of Juggernaut—huge, with enormous wheels, the flower-decked god itself a grotesque monster reverenced by millions. Behind it stood two smaller cars, one bearing Juggernaut's brother, the other his sister. Hundreds of devotees were fighting for places at the cars' drag ropes. Ahead were priests, torchbearers, musicians, dancing girls and flower strewers.

To exotic music and the beating of great drums, the procession began, the crowd chanting and praying. Men went down and were trampled, women and children were crushed as excitement broke bounds. By forming a tight phalanx, however, Ram's party kept their feet. At last the man-drawn cars moved toward the temple, which lay bevond a wide sandy plain. The seven-foot wheels sank deep and volunteers sprang to turn them by hand. A Madrassi slipped and his scream rose horribly as a wheel crushed him, but no one paused to drag his corpse clear.

"On to the temple!" Baja panted. "The worst of the sand's passed

and now the professional pullers will take the ropes." But they found the temple's forecourt already jammed by a human mass; only by shoving and squirming did they reach the front rank. Like the Suraya Temple, Juggernaut's Temple was decorated with grotesquely obscene figures; obscene too were the bejeweled dancing girls, posturing before the temple stairs to sense-stirring music.

Stirred himself, Ram asked Baja what significance the dances had.

"They re-enact the stories of the gods and their loves. These are thdssee —temple girls—taught by the priests all the arts of love. Later they'll give themselves to all comers and collect rich contributions to offer to Juggernaut."

Whores—religious whores! Ram recalled a passage in Alexander about them; how, when children, they were dedicated to a temple, where they were first taught art, literature, languages, music and dancing; then at puberty they were deflowered by priests and henceforth were at all men's call. As it had been 2,000 years ago, it still was! He could understand camp followers like Meg, even Carla, having to prostitute themselves. But, whoring as a religion!

He watched one girl. Almost a child, she was of much lighter hue than the rest. Her hair shone like jet as she moved, her pale face immobile, her eyes seeming huge because of kohl-darkened lids. He had a curious impression that she was afraid. Of what? That after the dances she'd be taken by any of these crazed bastards who might choose her? Then pity became stark desire. Could he himself have her? He grinned. Why not? He wasn't a Christian now, but a wealthy young Rajput! He swallowed, dry mouthed. Would she be like Carla, Annie, Bea?

Fascinated, he watched her sinuous arms re-enacting some old tale; encircling, repelling, inviting, striking. He gripped Baja's shoulder. "If I were truly a Rajput, there's the one I'd take!"

"Silence, in Vishnu's name! None but Hindus may enjoy thassee" A pause, then: "Which one?"

Ram showed him and he pointed her to one of the boatmen, who gestured obscenely. "Come, lord," Baja said loudly, "we must make way for our less fortunate brothers." With elbows and shoulders he opened a path rearward.

After they had won free and had cooled off with sweetened water

bought from a vendor, Ram said with studied casualness: "I'm going back, lest others are before me with that girl."

"Arre, would you have us all torn to pieces?" Baja exploded. "Besides, you've sweated most of the stain off your face."

Ram passed an angry hand across his face. The droplets of sweat were dark brown. Deflated, he agreed to return to the city. The boatmen remained there to taste its delights, but he and Baja went back aboard. There, pacing restlessly. Ram realized that Carla, a dark European, was no lighter skinned than the thassee, though the Hindu girl was finer boned.

After arguing again with Baja, who insisted that, with all Puri flaming with fanaticism, it would be suicidal to return ashore, Ram tore off his finery and dived into the cooling water. As he swam, reason returned. Why consider a native whore while Annie awaited him?

Arriving back at Bankipur, Ram paid off the three Marathas—the fourth had stayed back at Puri with Baja, who said he must await expected friends—and went to his bungalow, where he found Gopal Das had returned safely. Then he went to the fort to report.

As he saluted Ritter, the latter smirked strangely. "Ach, so you are back. Well, what have you accomplished?"

"It's all here." Ram gave him the report and the amended charts, "There should be much business for the company in Orissa."

"Good, the governor will be pleased. He is away upcountry, but returns soon. I expect you to sup tonight. That is an order."

Ram bowed and left. How like Ritter to make an invitation an order! But it was good to be back; there'd be Morgan and McNeil— and Annie, Von Bruck had, of course, long since returned to Coblom in La Paix, which was doubtless en voyage to Ostend by now.

When he reached Ritter's bungalow, its owner was on the veranda. "While you were away, L'Esperance came and went," he greeted. "The company is now fully chartered, which means more factories and more troops and promotion for me. If not, I resign and return home to buy a good estate."

"You've already made enough for that?" Ram was amazed.

"I have traded well. Come." They entered the dim interior. Before Ram's eyes were adjusted, Ritter said formally: "Herr Leutnant, I wish to present you to my wife."

"Wife?"

"La, Lieutenant, 'tis good to see you back."

Annie!

"Ach, a suq)rise, eh?" Ritter guffawed.

Ram was incredulous. Annie married to this "pink German"?

A slender hand was extended toward him and suddenly he had a wild desire to laugh. Damme, she'd lost no time! He kissed her fingers dutifully. "An honor, ma'am, 'pon my soul!"

"The table waits," Ritter interposed. "Madame." He seated Annie, gestured Ram to a chair on one side and slumped himself at the far end. "Wine! Wife, our young friend must toast you."

"I am sure he wishes me well," she faltered in broken German. "Kurt, you must tell him of the great estate we will buy."

"Yes. My wife is well dowered and will be mistress of a great schloss on the Danube, while I attend to my affairs in Vienna."

"Mr. Anstruther, is Vienna as lovely as Kurt tells?"

"Very fine, ma'am." Ram could foresee Ritter spending her dowry while she faded away in some crumbling Danubian castle.

"Vienna is not for you," her lord said sharply. "Home and children will be your lot." Her angry flush showed that she understood.

During the meal Ritter, drinking heavily, continued to bully her until she was on the verge of tears, and when it was finished and Ram began making his adieus, Ritter told him curtly to wait.

"Bed. Schnell!" the Austrian bade his bride. Briefly she faced him rebelliously, but then, whimpering, she hurried away.

"Her father will invest her dowry for me in two more voyages. Then I shall go home and buy a patent of nobility," Ritter gloated. "Ach, young fool, so you thought you had first place, eh? Why do you think I let you go on the survey? Because I knew the poor cow couldn't live without a man! Well, she'll serve until I find better game." He lurched over to a desk. "Your report—badly written. Do it again—now. I'll return when it's finished." He left.

Ram glared after him. Swine! But Annie had made her choice and, after all, he'd never wanted to marry her. Yet he felt sorry for her, more sorry for the nights she'd not come visiting him.

He stared at the report. It was legible, even if its German was not quite grammatical. He began rewriting. After a while he heard a cry. He wrote on, hand unsteady. Now he heard loud sobs. Ritter returned, grinning, and only half dressed.

"Frau Ritter sends her compliments and regrets she cannot appear again tonight. The report?"

"Here." Ram thrust it at him. "Your permission, but I've not slept in my own bed for three months."

"I'll be back in mine in three minutes," Ritter mocked.

Ram headed for Morgan's bungalow. He needed drink to wash Pig Ritter away. Too, it would be good to see Fred again.

Morgan's greeting was effusive. "I heard you were back. What did ye do and see? I've done naught myself save drill your damned sepoys till they're steady as the King's own troops."

"I've just come from supping with charming Ritter," Ram said.

"So ye know. Lud, 'twas a surprise! She was so gracious to me, telling how she couldn't abide foreigners. Next thing, she'd wed him. I'd rather a sister of mine was dead than wearing that soor's name."

"And Bea, is she married too?"

Fred handed him a drink. "No, but there's some who'd be honored to take her—and I'm one. It's between me and McNeil. Bah, that Scotch lout's already deep in trading and I not even started. Hume favors him, they both coming from the north." He drank. "Here's to ye, and I'll be cursedly glad to hand your sepoys back to ye." He yawned pointedly. "Lud, I'm weary."

Rebuffed, Ram went home. Was Fred expecting another visitor— Bea? Lonely, he fell asleep, thinking of the temple girl.

Bea seemed glad he was back, but they never met alone. Always Fred, McNeil or one of the writers was present, and she often infuriated him by the blatant way she flirted with them. If Fred was gay, he wondered if she had been—well—kind to him. If McNeil was less dour than usual, he feared he had received her favors. As for Annie, on the rare occasions she appeared, Ritter always bullied her so brutally that every man ached for his blood.

Hume returned from upcountry and was delighted with Ram's report. As for the six-pound guns, he admitted he'd sent the order by L'Esperance. "Not official, mind, but 'twixt the captain and me. And you'll get a profit yersel' for making the sale. What now's the name of the rajah who wants 'em?"

Ram was confounded, not having thought of names. "Bajaji Maharaj—from Paklah," he invented. Paklah was one of the Orissa states and he'd merely promoted Baja to a princedom.

"And the merchant who ordered 'em for him?" Hume persisted.

Ram gave the name of one of the Puri merchants he had met.

"Good. No harm if petty rajahs blow each other to bits. If the Marathas now were rising again, as they did under Sivaji, I'd not consider it, for they could overrun all India and us too."

Ram changed the subject quickly. "How much will the guns cost?"

"About half a lakh. For two six-pounders, a thousand ball and twenty barrels of fine French powder."

Fifty thousand rupees! Could Baja raise so much? "When will they come?"

"About a year." Hume became brisk. "I trust we'll be seeing ye at the mansion often. Poor Bea's most lonely now Annie's wedded. . . . Uh, I trust the last mail brought ye good news of home?"

"Fair, though Gammer says horses don't sell well."

"Tush, ye won't be needing horse sales soon. A few more profitable cargoes and ye'll pick a fine wife and live in ease the rest of your life. Leave it to me."

That night Bea came to Ram's bungalow. "It's long since I was alone with ye," she pouted. "Always we must pose as strangers."

"I thought you'd be accepting McNeil or Fred Morgan."

"Them? One's a Lowland nobody and the other's the third son of a poor Welsh attorney. I have to be polite to 'em, but don't ye remember the past? That should prove where my heart lies."

Later, as they lay in the darkness, she turned the talk to Dales-view. Cynical now, he made it appear far larger than it was, and laughed inwardly when she insisted that he would never be content to wed some pallid homebred chick, with no conception of his life in India. Dawn was close when she left.

Even now, after the sunset gun, it was still stifling as Ram reached

his bungalow. Ordering Bolal Sen to bring wine, he shrugged out of

his sweat-soaked coat. "Sahib, the girl is here. She awaits your pleasure." "Girl?" He had long suspected that the ser\'ants knew of Bea's

frequent visits, but wondered why she had dared come so early this