The Elephant Keeper's Daughter Read online

  I’m turning into Henry, he thought in dismay, shaking off the impulse. Maybe he had created a bastard with the Sinhalese whore. Maybe he hadn’t. But under no circumstances would he allow stupid sentimentality to thwart his plan of dealing with this rebel village once and for all.

  “Your brat is of no interest to me,” he informed Samitha, his voice icy. He beckoned over two soldiers.

  “Tie him up!” He pointed at the Bodhi tree.

  “I’m telling you the truth!” Samitha grabbed him by the arm. “Do with me whatever you please, but spare your son.”

  Charles brushed her off with impatience. “The woman as well,” he ordered. “Tie her to the tree with her bastard son. And prepare a torch.”

  The soldiers exchanged nervous looks.

  “Get on with it!” bellowed Charles. “Or do you want to end up like your corporal?”

  One of the soldiers hurried off to fetch a rope from his saddle. The other seized Samitha and Thambo.

  “It’s a waste, I admit,” Charles said. “Glad I’ve still got your sister to look forward to.” He turned to Anshu. “And I know she’ll be here any minute.”

  “Just kill me!” Anshu stumbled toward him. Weakened by pain and blood loss, she sank down on her knees before him.

  Charles took out his watch. “The five minutes are up, woman. Where shall I shoot you? Still in your other shoulder? Or would you prefer a leg or an arm?”

  “Wherever you want,” replied Anshu, her voice breaking. “Just let my daughter and grandson go.”

  This broadened Charles’s smile. “An attractive offer. Now listen to my counteroffer. If you give me your men and your other daughter, these two will live.” Here he gestured toward Samitha and Thambo, and then the soldier standing nearby with a readied torch. “If you refuse—boom!”

  “You cannot let your son die! A tiny child! Is there nothing that can make you see reason?”

  Samitha’s cries and Thambo’s screams filled the square.

  Now a commotion broke out amongst the villagers. They feared the Englishman, but their anger was taking over. They stood shoulder to shoulder and marched on the soldiers. The soldiers had their guns ready and leveled, but it was clear from their faces that none wanted to be the first to fire.

  Charles flew into a rage. “What are you waiting for, you cowards? Shoot them!”

  But before the first shot could be fired, a voice thundered behind Charles. “Drop your weapons or you’ll bring about your own end!”

  Charles spun around, and his soldiers wavered when they saw a monk, complete with flaming-orange habit, walking out of the forest at the head of a group of men. They were armed with nothing more than their determination, the authority of the monk who led them, and their voices as they recited the words of the Enlightened One, asking him for strength and fortitude.

  When Mahinda saw that Odell would not even spare the life of his own son, he had raced to the men’s hideout. He had explained his plan to them on the way back to the square. “Our one chance of success is getting our hands on the British commander ourselves. Then we can negotiate for the redcoats to withdraw. And there’s only one way to get him. Some of us will concentrate on the soldiers and distract them, while the rest of us must overpower Odell. And remember, we must be quick and show no fear!”

  When the men reached the village, Mahinda knew he had to seize the moment or the bloodbath would begin. He raised his right hand to signal to his men.

  Charles realized he was trapped between the two groups of villagers. He had Anshu as hostage, but only one pistol—and that meant only one shot remained. And he dared not order his soldiers to shoot, as he himself stood in their line of fire. Then he spotted the fuse, just a few steps away, and he smiled. It took more than this to outwit Charles Odell.

  “You’re clever, monk,” he shouted. “But not clever enough.” He grabbed the torch from the soldier’s hand and hurled it at the fuse. The flame hissed and shot up, licking its way to the Bodhi tree like a raging cobra.

  Chaos erupted in the square. Soldiers and villagers alike ran frantically to escape the explosion. Riderless horses galloped, terrified, into the jungle. Samitha fought against her bonds and screamed. Only Mahinda stood still in the middle of the confusion, staring at the burning fuse, and cursing himself for not having foreseen what his opponent might do.

  “Mama!” He heard Thambo’s desperate screams. “Mama!”

  Mahinda grabbed a sharp-edged stone from the ground, gathered up his robes, and ran.

  Anshu saw the monk running and realized he could not make it in time. Too weak to stand, she wriggled on her belly, determined to halt the flame’s progress. At the moment her fingers brushed the reeds, Charles appeared in front of her. With a malicious grin, he looked down, lifted his leg, and brought down his boot heel on her forearm, pinning her to the ground. She yelled with pain and rage and tried to use her other arm to push Charles away. But he just laughed.

  We’re all going to die, she thought as she lost consciousness.

  With a harsh trumpeting sound, Siddhi charged into the clearing and headed straight for Charles, ears forward, trunk at full stretch. Aghast, he spotted Phera, Henry behind her. Charles fired a shot, just missing Siddhi as she bore down upon him.

  That damned rebel whore. He was sick to the stomach that he had no bullets left to blast them both off that elephant.

  Siddhi had almost reached Charles, and he could see her eyes glinting as she raised her trunk to strike him down. He dodged in the nick of time and fled. Phera let out a shout of pure rage, spurring Siddhi on. But Henry held her back.

  “Look!” he yelled, pointing to the tree and the powder keg. Only seconds remained before the explosion would rip Samitha and Thambo to shreds.

  “Ho!” shouted Phera. “Ho, Siddhi!”

  Henry slid off Siddhi’s back while she was still in motion. He hit the ground, rolled swiftly away from the elephant’s feet, jumped up, and ran. One step more, another, and he kicked aside the last reed just as the flame reached it. With a groan of relief, he fell to the ground.

  Panting and gasping, he clenched his fists, then bellowed, “Charles! Where are you hiding, you damned swine?”

  Phera slid from Siddhi’s back and ran to Henry. “Where is he? He mustn’t get away!”

  “I don’t see him,” said Henry as he stood up. He cupped his hands around his mouth and roared, “I’ll find you, Charles! And God help you then!”

  She touched him on the shoulder. “We’ll find him. Samitha and Thambo are safe; that’s the most important thing for right now.” She looked at the Bodhi tree. The monk was sawing at their ropes with the stone. “I’ll help Mahinda. Look after my mother.”

  He nodded and hurried to Anshu, who was motionless on the ground.

  Phera drew her dagger and ran toward the Bodhi tree.

  “Watch out! Behind you!” yelled Samitha.

  Phera felt a painful blow on the back of her head. She cried out and fell. Stars danced before her eyes. Then a hand grabbed her and pulled her brutally to her feet. In one swift movement, the attacker took her dagger and brought it to her throat.

  “Who have we got here, then?” Charles hissed in her ear. “Isn’t it my brother’s pretty little slut?”

  She felt his hot, wet breath on her neck and writhed desperately against his grip. But he forced her backward, then placed the tip of the dagger on her neck, under her left ear. “Henry! Look what a delicious fruit has fallen into my arms!”

  She used all her strength to fight against him. But Charles laughed. “You’re even wilder than your sister, you little bitch. But I’ll tame you as well.” He dug the tip of the dagger deeper into her skin until it drew blood, then slowly began to trace it across her neck.

  “Let her go!” Henry yelled, nearly crazed with anger. “If you harm a single hair on her head, you’ll pay for it!”

  “When did you ever beat me, little br—aagh!”

  Something that felt like a rifle butt hit Char
les’s head. The dagger slipped from his fingers, and he staggered sideways, raising both arms to shield himself. Phera stumbled as the vicelike grip around her neck was released. She turned and saw Siddhi.

  Charles tried to crawl out of the elephant’s reach. But she got hold of him, lifted him impossibly high in the air, and hurled his body to the ground with all her strength. Bones cracked loudly. He lay motionless for several moments, but then his whole body twitched, and, slowly, he raised his bleeding head.

  “Shoot—that—beast—dead,” he croaked, before falling back to the ground.

  The British soldiers watched in horror. They could do nothing for their commander because the villagers, every last man, woman, and child, had formed a tight ring around them.

  Siddhi’s victorious trumpeting resounded through the clearing. She lifted her right foreleg. She held it in the air for a few moments, quite still, then brought it down on Charles’s broken body. He howled in agony.

  Siddhi turned her head, looking all around her. Once she spotted Henry, she used her trunk and forelegs to roll Charles’s unmoving body over to his brother’s feet. Then she turned and went to Phera.

  Phera placed her hands on Siddhi’s trunk and pressed her forehead against Siddhi’s strong, gray head. “Thank you, my friend,” she whispered through her tears.

  Henry crouched down near his brother. Charles’s eyes were shut, his face white, his uniform spattered with muck and blood. His arm and leg lay at terrible angles, and Henry suspected some internal organs had also been crushed. Carefully, he placed two fingers on Charles’s neck and noted his pulse was weak and faltering. He bent close and whispered, “It’s Henry. Can you hear me?”

  A muscle twitched in Charles’s face. He opened his eyes. “Am I going to die?” he wheezed.

  “Yes,” said Henry. “This is your last chance to repent.”

  “I repent nothing.”

  Henry leaned forward again, this time to close his brother’s eyes. Then he looked at Charles’s face, frozen in the agony of death. Never again will you rape, torture, and murder, he thought. I only regret that it was not my own hand that stopped you, and sooner.

  He felt a touch on his shoulder and turned. Phera was there behind him. He lifted his hand and traced his fingertips along the thin strip of blood that ran across her neck from one ear to the other.

  “Dr. Odell!”

  Henry turned and saw a soldier. “What do you want?”

  “What should we do now, Doctor?”

  With Charles dead, the villagers had formed two rows to allow the soldiers, their heads lowered, to pass between them. Now they were standing behind Henry, looking at him uncertainly.

  He thought for a moment. “Take the corporal and my brother back to camp; place them both in a tent with a guard outside. And do not speak to anybody of what happened. I’ll talk to my brother’s proxy myself when I get back.”

  “Certainly, Doctor!” The soldier saluted.

  The soldiers went over to the few remaining horses. They loaded the two corpses and disappeared into the jungle.

  Henry’s face betrayed his exhaustion, but his voice was resolute. “I must attend to your mother.”

  Phera took him by the hand, and together they went to Anshu. She had regained consciousness and was sitting up, supported by Mahinda. He had cleaned the bullet wound and dressed it with a strip of cloth torn from his habit. Sitting with him were Samitha and Thambo. The child clung to his mother, his face buried in the folds of her sari. She had one gentle hand on his head, and held her mother’s with the other.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Henry.

  “My daughters and my grandson are alive,” Anshu said. “That takes away nearly all the pain.”

  Henry knelt down beside her and examined her wounds. The bullet wound was expertly dressed and had stopped bleeding, as had the cut on her face from Charles’s pistol. Fortunately, Charles’s boot had not caused any grave injury to her arm. “No bones broken,” Henry confirmed. “But the arm will hurt for some time.”

  “I’ll prepare a cooling ointment that will help soothe the pain,” said Mahinda.

  Anshu looked at Phera and Henry. “Without you two, I don’t think they’d have left anyone alive.”

  “Siddhi stopped the worst from happening,” said Phera and looked proudly at her elephant as she stood under the Bodhi tree, her trunk examining what was left of the fuse.

  Led by an elder, the villagers now walked toward the little group.

  Anshu gestured to Mahinda and Henry. “Help me up, please.”

  With great care, they lifted her up. She was a little unsteady but could stand without assistance.

  The elder stepped forward. “With your help, widan, and with the help of your family, the Englishman, and the elephant, we are saved. Nothing has happened to our sacred tree or to us. We thank you, widan, for you have endured injury and pain to save our village.” He bowed deeply, first to Anshu, then to her family and to Henry. Last of all, he turned to Siddhi. “We owe you our thanks, too, daughter of the god Ganesha, the bringer of goodness and happiness.”

  Siddhi lifted her trunk and puffed contentedly.

  As the clearing emptied, Anshu stayed behind with her daughters, her grandson, Henry, Mahinda, and Siddhi.

  “My dearest children.” She reached out to Samitha and Phera. Both went to her, and they all embraced, while little Thambo cuddled up to their legs. They stayed like this, arms wrapped around one another, for some time.

  Phera was the first to speak. “After today it won’t be as hard for me to think about Father, Mihiri, and Eranga.”

  “My son will grow up without fear of that man,” added Samitha.

  Anshu smiled. “And we’ll live in peace from now on.”

  The following day, Henry buried his brother at the edge of the construction site, beneath the overhanging boughs of a mahogany tree. Beside him lay the corporal. Two oblong mounds of earth, each with a crudely made wooden cross, were the only markers of their final resting place.

  That evening, when Henry sat alone to meditate in the half-light of his tent, his thoughts strayed to Charles. He knew the death was a justified deliverance. But it was still hard for him to grasp that the beloved and admired big brother of his childhood was the same person who had tortured, exploited, raped, and murdered. Henry wanted now to live in peace, so he chose to embrace the future. He hoped this future would be at Phera’s side, even if he had little idea whether two people from such different cultures could successfully build a life together.

  Soon after sunrise the next day, Phera came to see him at the construction site just as he was on his way to a meeting with Charles’s proxy, Captain Daniel Brooks. She looked lovely, graceful in her yellow sari and with matching ruk attana blooms in her long, dark hair, worn loose. He went to kiss her but then held back. He could not take his eyes off the wound his brother had made with the dagger, the dark-red line, now scabbed over. He touched it gently with his fingertips and murmured sadly, “For that alone, I’ll never forgive Charles.”

  “Mahinda prepared me a special ointment. It’ll heal,” she said, smiling. She took his hand. “When are you coming back to Mapitigama?”

  “I’d love to go there now with you,” he replied. “But there’s a lot to sort out here, and reorganize. For the time being, Charles’s proxy, Brooks, will take over the construction project. I’m going to try and dissuade him from running the new road through Mapitigama, but I haven’t got the measure of him yet and don’t know what he’ll say.”

  Phera’s jaw dropped. “You mean Mapitigama is still under threat?”

  He held her closer. “Every delay costs the British government a lot of money. That’s why I’m going to tell him the men of Mapitigama will start work again immediately if he will pledge the protection of their village.”

  “How dare you just decide like that? The men haven’t agreed to this.”

  “I’m going to tell Brooks to pay them.”

  Phera was puz
zled. “They don’t know anything about money. Maybe they don’t want it. Only the king and nobles used to own coins.”

  “Those days are over,” said Henry. “The British government plans to introduce money through the whole country. It’ll be best if they can get used to it as soon as possible.”

  “Will you come back to Mapitigama soon?” asked Phera.

  “As soon as I’ve spoken to the new site manager.”

  “Make it fast,” she said, kissing him.

  Soon afterward Henry and Brooks sat in a quiet corner of the mess tent over a cup of tea. “Your brother, God bless him, has left quite a mess,” said the engineer with a sigh. “First of all, we had the epidemic; then nearly all the workers ran off. Now a whole platoon has come back from Mapitigama with the bodies of the site manager and his corporal. I tried to question the soldiers, but they said you had forbidden them from talking about it. What does all this mean, Odell? Are there serious problems to be had with the people from this village?”

  Henry stirred his tea while collecting his thoughts. For the people of Mapitigama, a lot rested on the outcome of this conversation, and he did not want to make any missteps. He related with calm and objectivity what had played out in Mapitigama. He remained silent only about Siddhi’s role, for fear Brooks would call for the supposedly dangerous cow elephant to be put down.

  “It’s not easy for me to say this,” Henry concluded, “but the violence stemmed entirely from my brother, and from him alone. The people of Mapitigama never attacked us. The soldiers will confirm that for you.”

  “Was your brother really trampled by a wild elephant? I’ve never heard of any coming near the construction site.”

  “Yes, a lone bull elephant, Captain. A huge beast that suddenly stormed out of the jungle,” Henry assured him without batting an eye. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

  Brooks leaned back in his chair and gave him a long, hard look. “I’ve always considered you to be an honorable man, Odell, and I have no reason to doubt your word. I’d be pleased to have your continued loyalty as medical officer for the construction site.”