Desert Barbarian

They had left the market quarter b

ehind them now, and were driving along a wide, dusty road fringed with square-built white houses with the usual flat roofs. Wire fences strung from wooden posts surrounded their gar­dens. Thickly set rhododendron bushes, deodars, fruit trees and dancing flies inhabited these gardens. Their shade was alluring, and Marie stared at each one, hoping it would be theirs.

At last they halted outside one and Rahaib stood to watch them dismount from the car, then unlocked the high gate and escorted them up the dusty path.

There were two doors; one outer with a mesh-wire covering to keep out flies, one inner made all of glass to let light into the house. A long verandah ran the length of the back of the house. Wicker chairs were arranged around a low cane table.

A small, slender woman in a yellow sari came hur­rying from somewhere to greet them politely. Over her palms her dark eyes looked curiously at Marie. A red caste mark in the middle of her forehead enhanced the glowing colour of her olive skin.

'Lispa speaks no English,' Rahaib told them. 'I shall interpret for you if you tell me your wishes.'

Marie smiled at Lispa and indicated Jeremy. 'Tell her the little boy is tired and hungry.'

Lispa's dark eyes travelled to Jeremy as Rahaib spoke to her. A little smile touched her mouth. She held out one thin-fingered hand to the boy, who trustingly took her hand and let her lead him away.

Rahaib ushered Marie along a corridor to a shuttered room full of cool shadows. 'This is your chamber, my lady. Your boxes are here already.'

Heaving a sigh of delight at the coolness, she looked around the room, gazing at the net-enshrouded bed, the carved chests and the wicker, cushioned chair. 'It's de­lightful,' she told Rahaib.

'Will you rest or eat, my lady?'

'I think we'd better eat first,' she said.

He bowed. 'I will go and find out if the food is ready. Please, wash and refresh yourself.'

She looked at him doubtfully, and he smiled at her. 'There is a bathroom beyond that door,' he told her gently.

Marie was astonished. 'A bathroom?' She had not ex­pected such a thing here.

'This house belonged once to an American who came to study our old temples,' Rahaib explained. 'He had a bathroom built into the bungalow. Of course, we have no modern sanitation in most of our houses. The American dug a pit for the waste out at the back of the house and laid pipes to carry the wastage out there. It took many months and by the time he had finished he was just leaving to go home.' A faint look of amusement came into the dark eyes. 'He was not pleased.'

'Your English is very good, Rahaib,' she told him admiringly. 'Have you been to Europe?'

He looked surprised. 'Of course I accompanied the King when he went to school and university in England. I spent fourteen years in your country.'

'Fourteen years?' She was astonished. 'No wonder your English is so good!'

'The King's highness was seven when his royal father sent him to school at first. We stayed there until he had finished his whole education. Every year we came home for the summer, of course. I could have married then, but I waited. Until my lord the King was home for good I would not wed.'

'And are you married now?' she asked curiously.

He looked surprised. 'But Lispa is my wife,' he said.

'Oh, I see,' she said, taken aback, remembering the formal way in which he had addressed Lispa, the com­manding note in his voice. He had spoken to her as if to a servant.

'Have you any children, Rahaib?' she asked. '

He smiled. 'Three sons.' His pride was evident. 'Lispa is a good wife.'

She was amused. 'Is the King married too?'

Rahaib's eyes glowed suddenly. 'The King is married,' he nodded. 'The Queen expects her first child in two months. We all pray it will be a son.' He hesitated and again she was sure he doubted whether it would be dis­creet to speak, then he said softly, 'The Queen is most beautiful and sweet. Her voice is like melted honey, her skin like silk.'

Marie looked at him curiously. Ha sounded as if he worshipped the Queen, she thought. He had not had that gentle, adoring ring in his voice when he spoke of Lispa. Perhaps his love for the King carried over to the King's wife.

'How old is the Queen?' she asked curiously.

'Fifteen,' Rahaib said.