rubbed the carpet with her bare big toe. ‘Pray tell me, are all the rooms in the palace as opulent as this one?’ she asked.
‘Come; let me take you around some of our palaces. Then you can see for yourself,’ Salim replied.
‘Umm … what if someone espied us?’
‘Don’t worry. They’re taking a siesta.’
‘How many palaces does your father own?’ Rachael asked.
‘Ninety. Maybe a hundred. Who knows? Never counted them,’ Salim answered with a shrug.
Her eyes twinkled as he gave her a mock salute and said, ‘After you, ma’am … err … RayChal.’
The carriage entered a fortified enclosure through a gateway and stopped before an imposing rectangular building. Rachael alighted and followed Salim to what looked like the balcony of a long vaulted hall.
‘This is one of the largest arched ceilings in the world, with no pillars to support it,’ he said as she looked up in amazement. He then asked her to wait as he walked the sixty yards to the other end of the hall. He looked across at her and clicked his finger. She was astounded. It sounded as clear as though he had clicked his finger right next to her ear. Then he gestured to her to put her ear to the wall. He put his lips near the wall across the hall and whispered, ‘I like you better when you don’t tie your hair.’ Rachael blushed, then looked at him in fascination. She could clearly hear what he had whispered sixty yards away!
‘Our walls have ears, you know,’ he said with a grin as he walked up to her and led her up a flight of stairs.
‘Crinoline dresses were not meant for walking up steep and narrow steps,’ Rachael muttered under her breath, as she gathered her skirts. Now where is he? she wondered in frustration, as she reached the top of the stairs and found herself facing three narrow passageways.
‘I’m sorry, milady, I had forgotten you weren’t wearing breeches today,’ Salim mocked, leaning against one of the doorless archways. ‘Try not to wear a tent next time you come to the palace,’ he added as he watched her trying not to trip over her dress.
Rachael glared at him. Again those eyes were laughing at her. Teasing, mocking, provoking.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m sure I would have found my way.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t. This part of the palace complex is not called Bhul Bhulaiya for nothing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a labyrinth of hundreds of narrow stairway passages. Anyone who’s not familiar with the palace is bound to get lost in this maze. But those who know the place well, for them there is a hidden passage here that leads to the River Gomti.’
‘I fear I don’t understand.’
‘See, if the palace is under attack, we can make our escape to the Gomti, while the enemy loses its way in the labyrinth.’
‘That’s ingenious.’
Salim held out his hand as they came upon some more steep narrow stairs. Rachael hesitated.
‘Trust me, you’ll find it easier.’
Rachael gingerly gave him her hand. His hands were callused, from holding the bridle too often. The stairs led them into another hall. There was a long pool with coloured fountains running across the centre of the room. On the walls hung pictures of all the nabobs of Oudh, Salim’s ancestors.
Looking at Nabob Wajid Ali Shah’s portrait, Rachael remarked, ‘You look nothing like your father … except your hair, perhaps.’
‘True, I take after my mother.’
‘Heavens!’ she suddenly exclaimed. ‘I fear we shall have to cut short this tour. I’m getting late for my class.’
‘Class?’
‘I teach some native children English. Every Wednesday.’
‘Oh, so you’re also busy converting us heathens into civilised little Christians, I presume?’
‘Of course not! I’m not a missionary. And anyway, what, pray, is wrong with being a missionary? They are simply spreading the word of Christ.’
‘Who the hell are they to decide that their religion is right and ours is blasphemous?’
Rachael was taken aback
‘Come; let me take you around some of our palaces. Then you can see for yourself,’ Salim replied.
‘Umm … what if someone espied us?’
‘Don’t worry. They’re taking a siesta.’
‘How many palaces does your father own?’ Rachael asked.
‘Ninety. Maybe a hundred. Who knows? Never counted them,’ Salim answered with a shrug.
Her eyes twinkled as he gave her a mock salute and said, ‘After you, ma’am … err … RayChal.’
The carriage entered a fortified enclosure through a gateway and stopped before an imposing rectangular building. Rachael alighted and followed Salim to what looked like the balcony of a long vaulted hall.
‘This is one of the largest arched ceilings in the world, with no pillars to support it,’ he said as she looked up in amazement. He then asked her to wait as he walked the sixty yards to the other end of the hall. He looked across at her and clicked his finger. She was astounded. It sounded as clear as though he had clicked his finger right next to her ear. Then he gestured to her to put her ear to the wall. He put his lips near the wall across the hall and whispered, ‘I like you better when you don’t tie your hair.’ Rachael blushed, then looked at him in fascination. She could clearly hear what he had whispered sixty yards away!
‘Our walls have ears, you know,’ he said with a grin as he walked up to her and led her up a flight of stairs.
‘Crinoline dresses were not meant for walking up steep and narrow steps,’ Rachael muttered under her breath, as she gathered her skirts. Now where is he? she wondered in frustration, as she reached the top of the stairs and found herself facing three narrow passageways.
‘I’m sorry, milady, I had forgotten you weren’t wearing breeches today,’ Salim mocked, leaning against one of the doorless archways. ‘Try not to wear a tent next time you come to the palace,’ he added as he watched her trying not to trip over her dress.
Rachael glared at him. Again those eyes were laughing at her. Teasing, mocking, provoking.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m sure I would have found my way.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t. This part of the palace complex is not called Bhul Bhulaiya for nothing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a labyrinth of hundreds of narrow stairway passages. Anyone who’s not familiar with the palace is bound to get lost in this maze. But those who know the place well, for them there is a hidden passage here that leads to the River Gomti.’
‘I fear I don’t understand.’
‘See, if the palace is under attack, we can make our escape to the Gomti, while the enemy loses its way in the labyrinth.’
‘That’s ingenious.’
Salim held out his hand as they came upon some more steep narrow stairs. Rachael hesitated.
‘Trust me, you’ll find it easier.’
Rachael gingerly gave him her hand. His hands were callused, from holding the bridle too often. The stairs led them into another hall. There was a long pool with coloured fountains running across the centre of the room. On the walls hung pictures of all the nabobs of Oudh, Salim’s ancestors.
Looking at Nabob Wajid Ali Shah’s portrait, Rachael remarked, ‘You look nothing like your father … except your hair, perhaps.’
‘True, I take after my mother.’
‘Heavens!’ she suddenly exclaimed. ‘I fear we shall have to cut short this tour. I’m getting late for my class.’
‘Class?’
‘I teach some native children English. Every Wednesday.’
‘Oh, so you’re also busy converting us heathens into civilised little Christians, I presume?’
‘Of course not! I’m not a missionary. And anyway, what, pray, is wrong with being a missionary? They are simply spreading the word of Christ.’
‘Who the hell are they to decide that their religion is right and ours is blasphemous?’
Rachael was taken aback
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