The War of the Grail (17 page)

Kanvar rode into the glade, gazed through his spyglass and then handed the instrument across to Jack. Jack peered through the glass, but he already knew what he was looking at – mills. Dozens of them.

Through the glass, he made out brick walls, smokestacks and gigantic warehouses. Carts and wagons came and went through arched gateways, and tiny figures walked across courtyards. It was a sight he hadn’t seen in years. He could be in no doubt that he was gazing back into Rajthanan lands, back into the heart of the empire’s stronghold in England.

It was strange. He’d lived most of his life in areas under the direct rule of the empire. Since leaving Shropshire to join the army at the age of sixteen, he’d spent little time in the native states. At first, he’d travelled back when he was on leave to see his mother and the rest of his family. But after his mother had died and his family had scattered, he’d never returned. Over the years, the native states had come to seem far away, foreign … backward.

But now it was as though he’d crossed over to the other side of a looking glass. He’d been living in Shropshire for four years. Even when he’d travelled up to Scotland, he hadn’t passed through lands where there were mills or large numbers of Rajthanans. Now he was looking back at the world he’d come from, the world that had been torn apart by the First Crusade. It was as if he were looking back at his younger self from four years ago.

‘Look.’ Kanvar pointed to the open ground just across the border. ‘Down there.’

Jack stared downhill and spied shapes moving along a lane. He raised the glass again and saw that, as he’d expected, the shapes were horsemen. He couldn’t make the figures out clearly, but he could see turbans and russet tunics – the uniform of the Rajthanan cavalry.

He scanned the rest of the plains. He spotted a few peasants working in the fields, but he also saw further cavalrymen patrolling along a network of small roads. Some appeared to be Rajthanans. Others wore European Army uniform – they were most likely French or Andalusian. Most English regiments had been disbanded after the First Crusade.

He swivelled and checked to the north. The forest ended about half a mile away, and beyond it lay open ground where further figures patrolled. He saw the same when he checked to the south. There were guards all the way along the border for as far as he could see.

He lowered the glass and rubbed his forehead. This was a problem. Although Vadula’s troops hadn’t reached this area yet, there were clearly plenty of army units in the region already.

‘We cannot travel through there during daylight,’ Kanvar said. ‘I look like a Rajthanan from a distance, but if we are questioned I am certain to be exposed. What is more, you yourself might come under scrutiny.’

‘I’m just an Englishman. I’m not even carrying a musket any more.’ Jack hadn’t been able to retrieve his firearm after losing it in the forest. The only weapon he now carried was a knife in his belt.

Kanvar stroked his beard. ‘That is true. But you are not from these parts. A stranger could still attract attention in these troubled times.’

Jack gripped his reins tighter. He didn’t like the idea of a delay, but he could also see that Kanvar was right. There was no point in taking an unnecessary risk.

Damn it.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll wait until nightfall. But the moment it’s dark we have to get down there and get to the edge of that yantra. I can’t wait any longer.’

T
hey made camp near a brook that wormed through the forest. Jack sat beside the stream and did his best to wash the mud out of his hair and clothes. Kanvar stripped off his tunic and carefully unwound his turban, which he handled with great reverence, as if it were a holy relic. He released his hair from its topknot, removing a small wooden comb that had been stuck in the back. His locks were so long they tumbled down over his shoulders and reached to his waist.

Jack had noted Kanvar’s hair before, but only at night, in the dark. Now was the first time he’d had a good look at it.

Kanvar seemed to notice Jack’s gaze, because he paused and said, ‘We Sikhs do not cut our hair.’ He touched his beard. ‘Nor do we shave.’

Jack snorted and shook his head. The Sikhs, like the Rajthanans, had many strange ideas.

Kanvar half smiled. ‘Perhaps this custom is strange to you. But it is our way. It is one of the symbols of being a Sikh.’ He tapped a steel bracelet about one of his wrists. ‘This too is important. It is the Kara. It must be worn at all times.’ He held up the comb he’d removed earlier. ‘And this is the Kangha, for straightening the hair.’

He next picked up a curved dagger in a small, ornate scabbard. Jack had noticed him wearing it before, but had never seen him use it.

‘This is the Kirpan.’ Kanvar held the dagger in both hands, as if bringing an offering to an altar. ‘Like all weapons, it is to be used only in the service of the will of God, of Waheguru.’

‘A noble sentiment.’

‘Indeed. One that I live by.’ Kanvar placed the dagger back down again and, still wearing his boots, stepped into the brook. He splashed water over his face and body, cleaning away the dirt encrusting him.

Jack thought he might as well take advantage of Kanvar’s current talkativeness. ‘You Sikhs have been at war with the Rajthanans for a long time, right?’

Kanvar paused for a moment, then continued cleaning himself. ‘We have fought wars with the Rajthanans, that is true. But at the moment it is perhaps what you would call a rivalry. A battle for influence.’

‘Influence? Over what?’

Kanvar stepped, dripping, out of the brook. He grasped an undershirt and used it to dry himself. ‘Influence over different parts of the world.’

‘Like Europe?’

‘Exactly. Europe is the jewel in the turban of the Rajthanan Empire. The Rajthanans rule almost every part of it. And they control the powerful sattva streams. Especially those here in Britain.’ Kanvar walked across to his horse and retrieved a clean undershirt from one of the saddlebags. ‘Of course, the Rajthanans also have access to any yantras they find in Europe.’

‘And have they found many?’

Kanvar pulled on the shirt. ‘A few. That we know of, at any rate. There is the Europa yantra, for example.’

Jack sat back. Of course. He hadn’t considered this, but it made sense that the Europa yantra – the yantra that was taught to the native siddhas – would be found in Europe. ‘Where was it discovered? Which country?’

‘In al-Francon.’

Jack mulled this over. France? The Europa yantra lay in France? It was a strange thought. But then, he’d learnt many strange things over the past few days.

He picked up a stone and tossed it into the brook. ‘So, you Sikhs are trying to get influence here in England. That’s why you want the rebels to win.’

‘Of course.’ Kanvar wrapped his hair up in a thin piece of cloth and then sat down near Jack. ‘We would very much like to see you succeed, Jack. You and your people.’

‘And if we do, then what?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If we kick the Rajthanans out of England, what would you Sikhs do then? Take over? Make us part of your empire?’

Kanvar frowned and stared at the burbling water. ‘I do not know what to say. I do not think that has ever been the intention of the Sikhs.’ He looked at Jack with his wide eyes. ‘I am not an important person. I am not a leader or a general. I am just an ordinary Sikh. If there is a grand plan to annex England, then I know nothing about it.’

Jack could see Kanvar was becoming uncomfortable with the discussion. And this was interesting. Kanvar seemed genuine – honest, even. It was probably true that he knew nothing about the greater plans of the Sikhs’ empire. And in any case, all this talk was hardly important at the moment. Jack was speculating about a future that might never happen. It was the present that was the problem.

‘It’s all right,’ Jack said. ‘We English will take any help we can get, from whatever quarter. You Sikhs have your own aims. I understand that. It’s natural.’

Kanvar stared intently at Jack. ‘My aims are always to do what is right. To follow Waheguru’s will at all times. That is why I do what I do.’ He looked away. ‘Even when that is difficult.’ His eyes moistened slightly.

Was he upset?

Jack was about to ask Kanvar what was on his mind, when the Sikh quickly composed himself, stood and walked towards the small patch of grass where they’d decided to rest. ‘I must meditate.’

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. So, Kanvar didn’t want to talk about his motivations. That was his choice and Jack wasn’t inclined to press him further. Jack had meant what he’d said. He was happy to get any help he could from Kanvar, regardless of what the purpose behind that help was.

‘Meditate?’ Jack stood and walked across to Kanvar. ‘You should sleep. I’ll take first watch.’

Kanvar was already sitting with his legs crossed and his back straight. ‘No. I must restore the sattva in my mind. It is greatly depleted.’ He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

Jack squatted down. He’d heard before how using powers drained the sattva in a siddha’s mind. The sattva apparently returned over time, but that process could be quickened through meditation.

‘You know,’ Jack said, ‘I’ve noticed something strange since I used the Lightning power. I feel … stretched out. Thin. It’s tiring even thinking about yantras.’

Kanvar’s eyes sprang open. ‘You are certain this feeling started
after
you used Lightning?’

‘Aye.’

‘And you have never noticed this before?’

Jack shook his head.

‘Interesting.’ Kanvar gazed into the distance. ‘It is as I thought.’

When Kanvar said nothing further, Jack asked, ‘What is as you thought?’

Kanvar stirred from his reverie. ‘What you describe is familiar to me. You must have depleted your store of sattva after using Lightning.’

‘You reckon that’s what it is? That’s why I feel like this?’

‘Yes. What you describe is the beginnings of depletion. You must have a great store of sattva and you only used a single power, so you have not been greatly weakened. But you have used up some sattva. That has inevitably had an effect.’

Jack frowned. ‘Never noticed this before, though, and I’ve been using powers for years.’

‘But some powers need more sattva than others. You have mostly used the Europa yantra in the past. That requires little sattva. Lightning is of a different order. It is a powerful yantra and requires much sattva.’

‘I see. But my guru told me native siddhas don’t use up their sattva.’

‘I have heard this theory. But I believe it to be false.’

‘My guru lied to me, then?’

‘Possibly. Or he might have believed that what he was saying was true. You see, the Rajthanans believe native siddhas are inherently inferior.’

‘That’s what I was told.’

‘Indeed. And because of this belief, the Rajthanans have seen the native siddhas as somehow different. A special case. But I have not believed this for several years now. I believe native siddhas are in many ways simply ordinary siddhas – except for the fact that they have a larger than normal store of sattva.’

‘You think that’s all there is to it?’

‘There are other differences between native and ordinary siddhas. But I believe the differences are not as great as many suppose.’

Jack rubbed his eyes. He was tired, and he was sure Kanvar was exhausted. But now that they were talking, he was hungry to know more. ‘Right. But why do native siddhas have this big store of sattva in their minds?’

‘I do not know. But it is not necessarily so strange. Some Rajthanan siddhas are like this too. And some Sikh siddhas. Every siddha is different. Everyone has a different level of sattva. I think, on average, European siddhas must have more sattva within them than most. That is perhaps unusual, but it is not so unusual.’ Kanvar put his hand to his forehead. ‘But now I must meditate and we must both rest. We still have a difficult journey ahead of us tonight.’

‘Aye. That’s true enough.’ Jack stood and slapped the dust from his tunic. He could talk to Kanvar for hours, but now was not the time. ‘You meditate and then sleep. I’ll take first watch.’

Despite his tiredness, Jack had little trouble staying awake. So much had happened over the past few days, and he’d learnt so many new things, that his mind whirled and wouldn’t settle.