‘Brother!’ Mary called aloud, and then, almost in a panic, she repeated the word. ‘Brother!’
Sharpe grinned, disguising his confusion. Then he saw there were tears in Mary’s eyes and he frowned. ‘Are you all right, lass?’
Tm very well,’ she said deliberately, and then, in an even more stilted voice, ‘Brother.’
Sharpe glanced at the Indian soldier and saw that the man had a fiercely protective look. ‘Is that the General?’ he asked Mary.
‘No. It’s Kunwar Singh,’ Mary said, and she turned and gestured towards the soldier and Sharpe saw a look of tenderness on her face, and all at once he understood what was happening.
‘Does he speak English?’ Sharpe asked, and then, with a grin, ‘sister?’
Mary threw him a look of pure relief. ‘Some,’ she said. ‘How are you? How’s your back?’
‘Mending all right, it is. That Indian doctor does magic, he does. I still feel it now and then, but not like it was. No, I’m doing all right. I even won a medal, look!’ He held the gold towards Mary. ‘But I need to talk to you privately,’ he added as she leaned close to peer at the medallion. ‘It’s urgent, love,’ he hissed.
Mary fingered the gold, then looked up at Sharpe. Tm sorry, Richard,’ she whispered.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, lass,’ Sharpe said, and he spoke truthfully, for ever since he had seen Mary in her sari he had sensed that she was not for him. She looked too sophisticated, too elegant, and the wives of common soldiers were usually neither. ‘You and him, eh?’ he asked, glancing at the lean and handsome Kunwar Singh.
Mary gave a tiny nod.
‘Good for you!’ Sharpe called to the Indian and gave him a smile. ‘Good girl, my sister!’
‘Half-sister,’ Mary hissed.
‘Make up your bloody mind, lass.’
‘And I’ve taken an Indian name,’ she said. ‘Aruna.’
‘Sounds good. Aruna.’ Sharpe smiled. ‘I like it.’
‘It was my mother’s name,’ Mary explained, then fell into
an awkward silence. She glanced at the man with the white stripe on his head, then tentatively touched Sharpe’s elbow and so led him back into the shaded niche where he had been waiting. A ledge ran round the niche and Mary sat on it, facing Sharpe with her hands held modestly on her lap. Kunwar Singh watched them, but did not try to -come close.
For a second neither Sharpe nor Mary had anything to say. ‘I’ve been watching that naked fellow,’ Sharpe said, ‘and he ain’t moved an inch.’
‘It’s one way to worship,’ Mary said sofdy.
‘Bloody odd though. The whole thing’s odd.’ Sharpe gestured around the decorated shrine. ‘Looks like a circus, don’t it? Can’t imagine it at home. Painted clowns in church, eh? Can you imagine that?’ Then he remembered Mary had never seen England. ‘It ain’t the same,’ he said weakly, then jerked his head towards the ever watchful Kunwar Singh. ‘You and him, eh?’ Sharpe said again.
Mary nodded. Tm sorry, Richard. Truly.’
‘It happens, lass,’ Sharpe said. ‘But you don’t want him to know about you and me, is that it?’
She nodded and again looked fearful. ‘Please?’ she begged him. Sharpe paused, not to keep Mary on tenterhooks, but because the naked man had at last moved. He had slowly clasped his hands together, but that seemed the extent of his exertions for he went quite still again. ‘Richard?’ Mary pleaded. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’
He looked back to her. ‘I want you to do something for me,’ he said.
She looked wary, but nodded. ‘Of course. If I can.’
‘There’s a fellow in this city called Ravi Shekhar. Got the name? He’s a merchant, God knows what he sells, but he’s here right enough and you’ve got to find him. Do they ever let you out of the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you get out, lass, and find this Ravi Shekhar and
tell him to get a message to the British. And the message is this. They mustn’t attack the west wall. That’s it, just that. The daft buggers are setting themselves to attack it right now, so it’s urgent. Will you do that?’
Mary licked her lips, then nodded. ‘And you won’t tell Kunwar about us?’