Free Barbara Cleverly by The Palace Tiger Page A

Joe. ‘Not too fancy, I hope? What do you think?’
    Govind considered for a moment. ‘Everything is perfect, sahib. Exactly what is required. Handkerchief perhaps?’
    They set off, retracing their earlier steps back to the Old Palace. ‘The reception will be in the durbar room tonight,’ said Govind. His voice took on a hushed and serious tone. ‘The palace - the state - is in mourning for the young prince and this will continue for twelve days. You arrive at an unfortunate time, sahib.’
    ‘You must tell me how I may best avoid getting in the way,’ said Joe with concern. ‘Mark my card, Govind, and don’t let me crash about insensitively annoying people.’
    ‘I think the sahib has the sensitivity of an elephant.’ Govind smiled and gently nodded.
    For a moment Joe was startled then he remembered that for these warriors who lived, worked and sometimes fought alongside elephants the animal was revered for its intelligence and discretion. He returned the nod, recognizing the compliment.
    ‘The funeral ceremony will take place tomorrow afternoon at the samshan - the cremation ground - by the river. You and your fellow guests will not be involved. The palace has many distractions to put before you while we are occupied with our religious rites.’
    ‘I see,’ said Joe doubtfully. A situation already socially delicate now promised to be impossible. ‘Are there areas of the palace and town I should perhaps avoid?’
    ‘Yes, sahib. The mourning rituals will be performed in the women’s quarters where the ruler has gone to join the maharanee, the mother of his son. The zenana will be the scene of much wailing and crying out. The women will be breaking their bangles in grief over the body of the Yuvaraj and garlanding him with flowers. This afternoon’s events are most distressing but His Highness will be present to greet you and share a drink, although he is very tired and very busy as you can imagine he would be and he will not stay long. You will be able to become acquainted with the other guests, however, and enjoy an excellent meal. His Highness is concerned that you should all have a pleasant and most sociable evening.’
    Joe smiled his appreciation of this piece of considerate attention. It was a sensible arrangement; he would have organized things in just the same way.
    He approached the door of the durbar hall with keen anticipation. He was a sociable man and enjoyed conversation. But, above all, he was desperately hungry and hoped that the drinks party wouldn’t drag on for too long. It seemed a very long time since he’d shared a railway curry with Edgar at Umballa.
    Vyvyan was waiting for him at the entrance to the durbar hall. He ran an approving eye over Joe, followed immediately by an enquiring lift of an eyebrow.
    ‘I have it,’ said Joe in answer. He produced his report and handed it over.
    ‘Good man!’ said Claude. Without giving the document a glance, he passed it to an aide who slid it into a file and moved away.
    ‘Most of the guests are already here so you’ve timed it well, and the ruler himself is eager to meet you. Shall we go in?’
    Joe followed him through the pair of heavy sandalwood doors, lined with ivory and held open by two servants, and he stood for a moment, stunned by the glittering scene before him.
    ‘Like stepping into a Dulac illustration from The Arabian Nights, I always think,’ whispered Claude, entertained by Joe’s reaction.
    The large meeting room was long and low and not a square inch of surface, it seemed, was without rich decoration. Fluted pillars, encrusted with coloured stones in a complex floral design, held up a ceiling shining with mica and gold leaf. The long walls were pierced by arched doorways and the intervals between were covered in expanses of mirror glass. Even the floor shone and Joe, coming out of his trance and moving forward, set a careful foot down, mindful that his evening shoes were new, the leather soles still slippery, and was grateful to reach a thick amber carpet