The Elephant Keeper's Daughter Read online

  “Major Odell!” The corporal hurried toward him. “Do you know where the doctor is?”

  “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Charles asked with a scowl.

  The corporal looked at him with irritation. “One of the engineers has slipped and broken his leg. Looks bad.”

  “I don’t know where Henry’s put himself. Get his assistants to take care of the clumsy fool.”

  This suggestion seemed to bother the corporal even more, but he was as obedient as ever. “Yes, sir!”

  Just as he was turning to go, Charles roared, “Attention!”

  The corporal stood tall and saluted.

  “Call your platoon together. Saddle up and bring a nice little keg of black gunpowder and a fuse. We ride in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, sir!” The corporal saluted again. “What’s our commission, sir?”

  Charles laughed. “That’s a surprise. But I’ll tell you this much—we’re going to have plenty of fun today.”

  A gunshot echoed across Mapitigama. Charles pulled up his horse on the village square, his pistol still smoking.

  “Out of your huts, you good-for-nothings! I’ve made up a lovely play, a stupendous play, and I’ve made sure each and every one of you has a part.” He signaled to his corporal. “Fix the gunpowder keg to that tree there.” He gestured toward the ancient Bodhi tree. “Then set the fuse! The rest of you, ensure none of the brown monkeys get away.”

  The corporal eyed the rotting tree and thought to himself that it was likely to come down of its own accord if someone simply removed the props from beneath its boughs. Why waste precious gunpowder? But he obediently dismounted, unfastened the powder keg from behind his saddle, and tied it to the tree. Then he went back to his horse for a leather tube packed with reeds doused in brandy and gunpowder: the fuse. He took out the reeds and placed them on the ground all the way up to the Bodhi tree.

  While he was doing this, his soldiers were driving terrified women, children, and old people out into the square. Only the young men were missing, still off in their hideout.

  When the redcoats stormed the village, Mahinda was on his way back from his morning ritual at the river. He quickly grasped what was going on and dived into a thicket of oleander before the commander looked his way. Mahinda had never encountered Charles Odell, but he had heard enough to recognize him immediately. He peered anxiously from his hiding place and saw Anshu and Samitha. He did not see little Thambo. The women had probably told the child to stay hidden in the hut.

  Mahinda wondered whether he should sneak away and get help from the men of the village. But what could they possibly achieve against the redcoats with their horses and guns? If Odell and his soldiers clapped eyes on the fugitives from the construction site, it would probably mean a bloodbath. The monk desperately racked his brains.

  In his anguish, he turned to his wooden prayer beads, whispering a line from the ancient Sutta Pitaka. “Buddham saranam gacchami. I take refuge with you, Buddha.”

  Anshu broke away from the crowd and stood before Odell. “What gives you the right to force your way in here and disturb our peace?” she asked, her voice unwavering.

  “It takes more to frighten me than a woman playing at village leader,” Charles said mockingly, looking down at her from his horse. “Tell me, woman, why isn’t everyone accepting the invitation to my lovely play?”

  “We are all present,” replied Anshu. Behind her, the villagers moved involuntarily closer together.

  “Why are you lying to me?”

  Before she could duck, Charles had slammed the barrel of his pistol against the side of her head. She stumbled backward and would have fallen had two women not caught her in time. Cries of horror and rage rang out from the crowd.

  “Why are you lying to me?”

  Anshu gathered herself, wiping the blood with the back of her hand. “I’m not lying to you.”

  “You obviously want me to take a different approach. So be it. Corporal! Have every hut searched!”

  “You can’t do that!” shouted Anshu.

  But the soldiers had already dismounted, and ran, their pistols drawn, toward the villagers’ tiny homes.

  Anshu grabbed the reins of Charles’s horse. “Call your men off!”

  “What the hell are you doing, woman?” Charles made to strike her again with his gun, and she let go to avoid a second blow.

  Mahinda watched the scene in horror. He knew Anshu was trying to protect Thambo. The soldiers hadn’t yet reached her hut, so perhaps he could still prevent the worst. When Odell had his back turned, Mahinda gathered up his robes and ran. Within seconds he reached Anshu’s hut and slipped inside.

  “Thambo,” he whispered. “Quick! Come with me!”

  In the gloom, he saw something moving under a pile of blankets near the altar. Then Thambo’s head emerged. Mahinda rushed to pick the child up. “I’m taking you with me, Thambo. We must hide from the strangers somewhere else. But keep quiet, do you hear me?”

  The boy nodded without a word. Mahinda pressed the child’s head against his shoulder, ran to the door, and peeped out onto the village square. He spotted Samitha not far from Anshu. She was staring straight at him. Mahinda nodded slightly in her direction, held the child even closer, and ran. He dove back into the oleander bushes and carefully set the child down next to him.

  “Mama,” the child whispered.

  Mahinda quickly placed his hand over Thambo’s mouth, urgently shaking his head. Then he took the distressed child in his arms again, and together they looked out at the village square from their hideout.

  Odell had reloaded his pistol and was herding the villagers together like a wild dog would its prey. Inside the huts, the redcoats were creating havoc. There was clattering and crashing as sleeping mats flew out of front doors and crockery smashed to smithereens.

  Mahinda felt enraged and yet powerless. Ever since his novitiate, he had upheld the teaching that hate breeds hate and murder leads to murder. And yet it took all his strength to control his emotions. On no account could he let rage make him do anything foolish that would further endanger the lives of the villagers and the little boy.

  “The huts are empty, sir!” the corporal announced.

  “Oh, they are, are they?” Charles’s pistol hand trembled with rage. He whipped around and aimed at Anshu. “Where is your daughter?”

  Samitha shrank in fear. Since Odell had turned up in Mapitigama three months ago, she had been terrified he would recognize her. Now the moment had come. She stared at the pistol in Odell’s hand, certain the nightmare in Uva was about to be repeated.

  “I’m here.” She stepped forward and stood next to Anshu, ready to endure any torture if only this demon would let her mother live. She felt Anshu squeeze her hand and heard her mother whisper, “Be brave.”

  Charles jumped off his horse and approached them. “You two! Don’t you dare think of plotting against me.” He raised his pistol and aimed—first at Anshu, and then he turned the barrel on Samitha.

  Anshu let go her daughter’s hand and stood in front of the man. “Leave her!”

  “I’m sorry?” Charles said with a laugh. “You’re giving orders? To me?”

  She raised her chin proudly. “Do you still not recognize me, Mr. Englishman? I am Anshu Maha Nuvara, widow of Jeeva Maha Nuvara, who you murdered in Uva.”

  His eyes narrowed. He looked at her, long and hard. “Yes,” he said quietly. “What a happy coincidence.” A twisted smile played on his thin lips.

  She took a deep breath, pushed aside all her fear, and said, “I’m offering you my life for that of my daughter’s.”

  “No!” cried Samitha.

  Anshu turned to her. “Every day I have reproached myself for not being able to protect you that day in Uva. Today I shall protect you.”

  A muscle twitched in Charles’s face. He took a slow walk around the two women, then halted in front of Anshu. “It’s not only you I want. I want your daughters as well. Not just her.” He glanced at S
amitha. “I want the other one, the one you passed off as a son. Yes, I’ve found out your sick little secret. Out with it. Where is she?”

  “Not here,” whispered Anshu.

  She should have known that a devil like this would never be satisfied with one life when he could have three. He had killed her husband and one of her children, and violated the second. Now he was demanding her youngest. In her mind, she sent a message to Phera, begging her to stay away.

  Anshu’s reply enraged Charles. “So you want to play games with me? Go ahead. I’m eager to know how high your stakes will go.”

  Slowly, he turned to Samitha.

  Her beauty never failed to excite him, and her expression of pure loathing mingled with absolute terror sparked his desire. Today he would make up for what he had not been able to do at their last encounter because of his damned malaria.

  “We already had such fun in Uva,” he remarked, delighting in the way his words stoked the young woman’s fear. “Today we’ll have even more fun, you and me—and your sister.” Smiling broadly, he turned back to Anshu. “I’ll ask again, where is your other daughter?”

  “She is not here,” repeated Anshu.

  Charles pretended he was thinking hard. Suddenly, his pistol arm shot forward, and he fired.

  Anshu’s left hand flew to her right shoulder. Then she collapsed without a sound. Samitha cried out, falling to her knees beside her mother. She grabbed a corner of Anshu’s sari and pressed it to the wound. A dark stain formed rapidly on the pale material.

  “It’s all right,” gasped Anshu. “I am only injured.”

  “I could’ve killed you, woman,” bellowed Charles. “But I’m not going to make it that easy for you.” He waved over one of his soldiers and handed him both pistols for reloading. “I’ll give you five minutes. If you still refuse my request, I’ll shoot you in the other shoulder. Then another five minutes and it’s your right arm, then your right leg. Next we’ll do the left side. I’m intrigued to see how long you’ll hold out.” He took back from the soldier his freshly loaded weapons, pushed one in his holster, and kept hold of the other. “And in order to be done with your rebelliousness once and for all, I have sharpened up my conditions. I want not only your daughters but also the men who absconded from my construction site. All of them. For every man who hides from me, one of you will die.” With this, he waved his pistol at the villagers. He took his watch from his uniform pocket. “The clock is ticking.”

  Nobody moved. Neither the stunned villagers standing beneath the Bodhi tree, nor Anshu, nor Samitha. Mahinda crouched in his hideout, frozen. Only now did he fully grasp how powerless they were against this British tyrant. With his superior weapons and the protection of his soldiers, he was unassailable.

  Charles strolled back and forth, his hand playing with the pistol. Suddenly, he stopped behind Samitha, still kneeling by her mother, then bent forward and pulled her up by the hair. He made her turn and face him so she was forced to look into his eyes. “Do you know, my beauty, you’re the best slut I’ve ever had?” He laid the pistol barrel against her throat, then slid it slowly over her neck, her breasts, and her belly. Now he was at her abdomen. “Did it please you as much as it pleased me?”

  “You’re poisonous, more than all the cobras and vipers put together,” Samitha snarled. She pursed her mouth, then spat full in his face.

  “You filthy bitch!” exclaimed Charles. “You’ll pay for that.” He reached back and slammed the pistol barrel hard into her groin so she bent double with pain.

  Anshu managed to pull herself up. “Have mercy!”

  Charles only laughed. “If you want mercy, look for a priest.” He wound his arm around Samitha’s neck and tightened his grip until she could hardly breathe. “I promised you a play, didn’t I?” he shouted to the villagers. “Here comes act one.”

  All of a sudden, a clod of earth came flying out of the crowd and hit Charles in the arm. “Who did that?” he roared. “I want an answer, or this slut will die before you can count to three.”

  A number of soldiers had already stepped toward the villagers, weapons ready.

  “Mama!” came a little voice, and Thambo clambered out of the bushes. Mahinda tried to pull him back, but he wasn’t quick enough. The little boy ran across the village square, hurled himself at the man tormenting his mother, wrapped his little arms around the man’s legs, and bit hard. Charles yelped angrily and tried to shake him off, but one arm was still around Samitha’s throat. Charles attempted to aim his pistol at the boy, but with Samitha struggling and kicking, he couldn’t get a clear shot without risking his own feet.

  “Corporal!” shouted Charles. “Shoot the little rat!”

  “A child, sir? Must I?”

  Charles raised the pistol in his free hand. A shot rang out. The corporal tottered backward and collapsed. His red uniform was pierced at the heart, and blood ran from the wound. He drew only a few, faltering breaths; then his eyes froze over. The fifteen soldiers under his command watched in horror.

  Charles threw the empty pistol to one of the soldiers to reload, pulled his second pistol from its holster, and held the barrel firmly against Thambo’s head. “Now it’s your turn, you little rat.”

  “No,” gasped Samitha. “I beg you. Don’t shoot your son.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  November 1822

  Seconds after Henry stopped struggling against the water, something plunged into the crater next to him. His eyes shot open, but he could make out nothing. A body pressed against him, a hand pulled down the gag, a mouth pressed on his, and air streamed into his lungs.

  His emotions threatened to overwhelm him as he recognized the mouth giving him this gift—Phera’s.

  He felt her hand at his back, trying to push him up higher. In vain. The rope Charles had used held him down. In silent agony, Henry writhed for more breath, dumbly twisting and turning. Phera understood immediately, and gave him the gift of her own breath once more. Moments before, he had surrendered himself to death, and yet now he was fighting with all his might to remain alive.

  She let go and moved away. He felt her pushing at his back while she tried to cut through the rope that bound him to the boulder. He summoned all his strength and bent his upper body forward to help her by putting some tension in the rope. He felt the rope give. He rocked forward, braced himself against the base of the crater, and stood tall. His cramped leg muscles wavered, but he managed to stay upright. Coughing and gasping, he took in as much air and life as he could.

  “Henry!” Phera clung to him and covered his face with her kisses. He almost lost his balance again, his hands still tied behind his back.

  “You have saved my life,” he gasped.

  Grinning, she replied, “You’re still one up on me.” Then she was serious once more. “Thank goodness I have my father’s dagger on me. Otherwise I’d never have been able to cut through the rope.” She swam behind him and set about freeing his wrists.

  When at last the rope dropped into the water behind him, he rubbed at his wrists in relief. The skin was chafed and raw. The powerful tingling caused by his blood starting to flow again was nothing compared to the pain in his legs.

  Deep puffing sounds came from above. Henry looked up and saw Siddhi, watching him and Phera as if wondering what strange game they were playing in the water.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Phera.

  But when he tried to climb out of the crater, his legs failed him. Phera took hold of the crater edge with both hands and pulled herself up. Then she instructed Siddhi to let her trunk hang down so that Henry could get a firm grip on it. The elephant hoisted him up. Once he had at last left his watery cell, he was so happy that he hugged first Siddhi, then Phera.

  She took hold of his wrists and gently caressed his damaged skin. “He did this to you, didn’t he?”

  Henry nodded. “I’m such an idiot. I should never have let my brother bring me here.”

  Her voice shook with loathing. “If you’d
died, I’d have hunted him to the ends of the earth, no matter how many lives I’d have had to spend atoning for it.”

  Henry placed his hands on her shoulders and looked earnestly into her eyes. “Leave Charles to me.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Please. Promise me.”

  She hesitated, then snuggled up against him. “I promise.”

  He kissed her wet hair. “How did you find me?”

  “When you didn’t come last night, I knew something was wrong. I went to the building site, and a laborer there told me where you’d gone.”

  “It’s a miracle that you found me in the nick of time,” said Henry quietly.

  She nodded. “It is. And that’s why I’m going to offer my thanks to the Enlightened One as soon as we’re back in Mapitigama.”

  “Heavens!” He had suddenly remembered. “I must get to the village straightaway! Charles has planned something terrible.”

  Phera looked up in alarm. “We’ll go together. It’s faster with Siddhi.”

  “No! I will not allow you to put yourself in danger.”

  He remembered the words Charles had spat out before he left. His brother’s threats were never empty, and more than anything Henry wanted to protect Phera from harm. But there she was, already astride her elephant.

  “Do you really believe I’d go into hiding when this devil is threatening my family?” she said, sitting tall and proud on Siddhi’s neck. “Climb up. We don’t have much time!”

  “My what?” Charles lowered his pistol, and Thambo immediately took refuge behind his mother.

  “Your son,” repeated Samitha. “You know how he was conceived.”

  Charles looked at the boy. Did he really have a son? Or was she serving up lies to save her child’s life?

  Though his skin was pretty light for a native, the boy looked more Sinhalese than English. And yet, his features seemed strangely familiar to Charles, almost as if he were looking in a mirror. His heart quickened, and he could almost have reached out to stroke the child’s hair.