Rebel Queen (20 page)

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Authors: Michelle Moran

Tags: #Historical, #Adult, #Romance, #Fiction

BOOK: Rebel Queen
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W
e all dressed in our best angarkhas, wrapping ourselves in two layers of pashmina—gifts from the rani upon Damodar’s birth. But in the courtyard, a thin layer of frost covered the ground, and Sundari decided that we should all go back inside and change shoes. The silk of our slippers would never survive the short walk to the raja’s baradari.

As the other women made their way back inside, Arjun appeared from the shadows. He was dressed in a double-breasted coat and held a white bag. “Something to entertain you,” he said.

The other Durgavasi raised their brows at what this might be, but inside, I knew there would be a book. When everyone was gone, I unwrapped his gift and held it up to the light of the flickering lanterns. It was a collection of poems by Hafiz.

“I haven’t read him,” I said truthfully.

“He was a fourteenth-century poet from Persia. People still make pilgrimages to his tomb.”

“If you wait here, I have something for you,” I said, and hurried inside with the other Durgavasi.

I changed shoes quickly. Then I took out a book I’d been keeping in a chest beneath my bed and wrapped it in an old dupatta. Jhalkari was watching me.

“He must have been waiting for you in the courtyard,” she said. “It’s a cold night to be waiting for someone.”

“Yes. We exchange books sometimes.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“I told you, we exchange books.” I didn’t wait for her reply. I hurried outside with my copy of William Wordsworth and gave it to him. “English,” I said coyly, “as requested.”

He studied the plain blue cover and the simple black lettering. “And which one is your favorite?”

“ ‘The Tables Turned.’ ” It was simply the first poem that came to mind. But Arjun nodded, as if my answer held greater meaning than it did.

Chapter Fifteen

1852

D
amodar’s arrival changed life in the Panch Mahal. We were no longer permitted to speak any louder than a whisper outside the rani’s chamber, and the gardeners who tended to the courtyards were instructed to do their work only when the little rajkumar wasn’t sleeping. Even the cooks were forced to change their routine, since the rani didn’t want the rajkumar breathing in the scent of the fire first thing in the morning. Instead, she placed rose petals by his head, and long strings of jasmine. Our training resumed again, but without the rani to oversee it, no one exerted herself.

The raja visited his wife every morning and twice in the afternoons. He was so in love with Damodar it was a wonder he didn’t strap him on his back and take him each evening to the baradari. When the rani’s confinement was finished, we thought she would want to resume all of the things she had been forbidden from for so long. But it was another several weeks before she came to see us in the queen’s room. Even then, it was only a brief visit, and Damodar wasn’t with her. I bowed very low when she arrived, but she paid no
more attention to me than to any of the other Durgavasi. The only women being invited to her chamber now were Kahini and Kashi; Kashi, because she had raised seven younger siblings.

Then, on the last day of January, the Durgavasi were summoned to the rani’s chamber to meet the rajkumar.

“I’ll bet he has his father’s nose,” Moti said.

“And the rani’s hair,” Heera added.

We looked at Kashi. She had seen the rajkumar dozens of times. “You’ve never seen a more beautiful child,” she told us. “Nine years in the making,” she said wonderingly. “It was about time the gods blessed them.”

Kahini made a noise in her throat. “You think it was by praying she got a child?”

“Kahini, the raja is your cousin,” Heera said severely.

“And the truth is the truth,” Kahini answered.

“Well, I don’t care if she went to him dressed as an English general,” Moti said. “Jhansi has an heir.”

As we made our way to the rani’s chamber, I asked Jhalkari in a whisper why she thought the rani had gone to the raja dressed as a man. She looked at me the way you might look at a person who wants to know why breathing is essential for life.

“Isn’t it obvious, Sita? It’s because he’s passionate about
men
.”

The idea was shocking, mostly because I didn’t think this was even possible. Did everyone know this except me?

Then Sundari announced, “Her Highness is ready.”

The rani had never looked more beautiful. She was dressed in a cream and gold angarkha, and her hair fell in long waves over both shoulders. Thick clusters of pearls gleamed from her neck—a gift, perhaps, from Gangadhar.

“My Durgavasi!” she exclaimed, delighted to see us.

We gathered in a circle around the red and gold bassinet. The rajkumar was tightly swaddled so that only his face was visible. But with his thick, dark hair and delicate nose, he was as beautiful as Kashi had said.

“Look, he’s opening his eyes!” Heera pointed.

We all leaned forward to stare, and the rani said, “He can’t see very far, but if you put your face close to his, he can make out your features.”

“Not everyone at once!” Kashi warned. “You’ll overwhelm him.”

So we formed a line, and each of us took turns peering into his bassinet. Now, in Hinduism, we don’t believe in fate so much as karma. But the moment I peered into his bassinet, Damodar Rao gave an enormous smile. You probably think this is an exaggeration, since babies don’t even return their mothers’ smiles until they’re at least six weeks old, but this is exactly how it happened.

“Did you see that?” The rani looked at the other Durgavasi. “He
smiled
at Sita!”

“Perhaps he mistook her for a
bhan
d
?” Kahini offered. Meaning, a clown.

“Stop it,” the rani said. Then she looked at me. “You’re the first person whose smile he’s returned.” She watched me intently, as if she could puzzle out my secret.

But I was just as mystified. I had done nothing that the other Durgavasi hadn’t done. Maybe I had simply done something extraordinary in my past life to account for such luck.

“Someday,” she said to me, “I want Damodar to speak English. Will you come in the evenings and speak to him?” she asked.

I said quickly, “I would be honored, Your Highness.”

“When the other Durgavasi leave today, why don’t you stay?”

The other women remained in the rani’s chamber for another
hour, cooing to the rajkumar and chatting with the rani, until Sundari announced that everyone should return to the queen’s room, with the exception of me.

“I’m happy to stay as well, if you’d like,” Kahini offered immediately.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m sure the raja will call for you soon. I hear he has another play he’s putting on,” the rani said.

“Yes, by Vishnudas Bhave. His
Sita Swayamvar
was performed for the Raja of Sangli. Gangadhar has hired him to write something new, set in Jhansi. He is paying double the salary the raja paid in Sangli. A writer like Vishnudas Bhave won’t accept anything less.”

I could see the irritation on the rani’s face. “You may go,” she said.

Kahini slipped out the door. For a few moments, the rani didn’t say anything, and I remained standing above the rajkumar’s bassinet. Then she indicated the cushion next to her bed and I sat.

“Sita, I’ve been very disappointed in you these last few weeks.”

“Your Highness, I’m—”

She raised her hand, and I was silent.

“There are times when I simply need you to listen.”

Shame burned my cheeks and I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are honest, sometimes to a fault. But you must understand that Kahini is family. She may be irritating and arrogant . . .”

And self-serving and
malicious
.

“But she has done me a great favor. You must understand by now that the raja doesn’t visit me in my chamber.”

I couldn’t meet her gaze, so I mumbled my response into my lap. “Yes.”

“Kahini was the one who suggested
I
go to him.” She looked over at Damodar in his bassinet. His dark lashes rested softy against his fat cheeks, a perfect child. “To hold him in my arms at night, to rock him to sleep with a song, to feel the weight of him against my chest when I feed him . . . He’s the greatest blessing in my life. Without Kahini, he wouldn’t exist.”

I felt the same way you might feel to learn that the man you were hoping to marry has been married off to someone else, someone with greater charms than you could ever hope to possess. Nothing I could ever do for the rani could compare to what Kahini had done.

“I want you to go to the theater tonight. The raja isn’t telling me what he spends on these plays. I want you to discover exactly how much this Vishnudas Bhave is being paid and how long he will be here.”

I stared at the rani, wondering how she thought I could accomplish this.

“My husband can’t keep anything in his stomach,” she said. In India, this means that a person can’t keep their thoughts to themselves. “I need this information, Sita. If the treasury is being depleted, it will change our relationship with the British. We don’t want to need them any more than we already do.” She looked at Damodar. “He is everything to me. Someday, he will inherit this kingdom. But first there must be a kingdom to inherit.”

I
won’t pretend I wasn’t nervous when everyone began preparing for bed and I was expected to put on a fresh angarkha and make my way down to the raja’s baradari. The rani had called for two of her men to escort me through the darkness, and I hoped that one of them would be Arjun, though if anyone had asked, I certainly
would never have admitted to this. I waited for Kahini to leave, then changed into lavender churidars with a heavy purple cloak. When Jhalkari saw what I was doing, she raised her brows.

“By the rani or the raja’s request?”

The other women looked over to see how I would answer. “Both,” I said, since whichever answer I gave, Kahini would hear of it.

I doubted that Jhalkari believed me, but she didn’t say anything more as I fastened my holster and crossed the Durgavas. Outside, two men were waiting in the dim light of the courtyard. Their breaths formed white clouds in the bitter night air. One of them was Arjun.

“So you’re following in Kahini’s footsteps,” Arjun remarked curiously as we walked.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“She’s the only other Durgavasi who’s invited to see the raja’s rehearsals.”

“Well, this isn’t an invitation I sought out. The raja believes I’ll have something of value to add to his performances. I’m afraid he’s about to see that he’s mistaken.”

“I don’t know. I think you have more to add to people’s lives than you realize.”

I looked up at Arjun, but even in the light of the full moon, his expression was unreadable. So I changed the subject. “Do you know which play he’s rehearsing?”

“Yes.
Ratnavali
,” the other guard said.

“A comedy?” I exclaimed.

“The raja believes he possesses comedic genius that’s waiting to be uncovered,” Arjun said. I couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic. “Now that the rajkumar has been born, he wants happier plays.”

“And the raja’s part?”

“The princess Ratnavali. Of course.”

We arrived at the baradari, and Arjun pushed aside the heavy curtains, which had been tied between the pillars of the open-air pavilion to keep in the warmth. The raja was on stage with Adesh. They both wore wigs, but only the raja’s wig had long, silken tresses. The moment the raja saw me, he clapped his hands together.

“Sita!” he exclaimed, and a great fuss was made over my appearance. Wasn’t it nice that I had dressed in peach nagra slippers? And look how the black trim of my cloak brought out the fairness of my skin. Everyone wanted to know what I used for my hair. “It even shines in the darkness,” the raja remarked. I had to tell him I didn’t use anything special, but Adesh was certain I was concealing some trick.

“I want the three of you to sit right here,” the raja said, pointing to several cushions near the front of the stage. Kahini was occupying one of them, and when she saw that we were making our way over, she purposely got up and moved.

“Don’t be so rude,” the raja said.

“I’m not being rude,” Kahini defended herself. “I just don’t like anything around me when I’m watching a performance.”

“You mean you don’t like any other beautiful women around you.” Adesh laughed.

“Well, if that was the case, I could go back to sitting over there,” she said.

“Kahini,” the raja reprimanded, but there was playfulness in his voice, and she grinned in response.

For my part, I simply ignored the banter. But if this was what it was going to be like every night, the rani would have to forget about my coming, because it would simply be intolerable.

“We’re rehearsing
Ratnavali
,” the raja said. “Are you familiar with the play, Sita?”

“Yes, it’s a comedy.”

“That’s right. Now watch and let me know if you have any comments.”

I glanced at Arjun, but he was at as much of a loss as I was. What did he expect from me? Comments about what? His performance? The writing? The play began, but as the night progressed, nothing came to mind. Midway through the performance, when Adesh was no longer needed on stage, he sat down next to me. He smelled heavily of perfume and something else. Wine?

“Have you heard anything about a playwright named Vishnudas Bhave?” he whispered.

Because I didn’t know whether the rani would want me to lie, I told him the truth. “Yes.”

“Is he really coming to Jhansi?”

“There’s talk that the raja is inviting him—”

“It’s absolutely unnecessary!” Adesh exclaimed. The raja looked down at us from the stage, and we both smiled quickly, so he wouldn’t know we were talking about him. Immediately, Adesh lowered his voice. “Does the rani know how much a playwright like him will cost?”

“I can’t say—”

“Well, there’s no reason for it! I’m a playwright, but the raja won’t even take a look at my plays.”

This surprised me. I had thought Adesh was the raja’s favorite. I was about to respond when Kahini rose from her cushion and came over to join us.

“And what are the two of you whispering about?”

“How beautiful your cousin looks tonight,” Adesh said. “I can’t think there’s ever been a lovelier Ratnavali.”

Kahini looked from Adesh to me, then back again. “I can keep a secret—”

“Honestly,” I said, “we weren’t—”

“I didn’t ask
you
.”

“What’s happening here?” the raja demanded. He strode to the edge of the stage and put his hands on his hips, so that he looked exactly like a pouting woman in his long wig and sari.

“Sita here was discussing your performance with Adesh,” Kahini said. “I was just asking her to share her comments with the rest of us.”

I glanced at Arjun, hoping he might devise some way of saving me, but he remained silent.

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