He paused, then chuckled. “Knowing her, she is likely to find the thing a challenge and an adventure.”
The pausing stopped abruptly. All traces of humor vanished. The Rajput king stood straight and tall. Without looking at Toramana, he murmured: “Very fond of her, I say. If I discovered she has been abused, I will challenge you and kill you. Do not doubt it for a moment. Neither the challenge nor the killing.”
He swiveled his head and brought the Ye-tai under his stony gaze. Then, to his satisfaction, discovered that the young warrior was not bridling at the threat. For all Toramana’s own great skill at war, he was more than intelligent enough, despite his relative youth, to understand that he was no match for Sanga.
“I am not abusive to women,” said Toramana. Quietly, but perhaps a bit . . . not angrily, no, but sternly for all that.
“Yes, I know.” Sanga’s lips tightened, as if he were tasting something a bit sour. “I asked Lord Damodara to have Narses spy upon you.” His eyes moved away. “My apologies. But I needed to know. Narses says that both your concubines seem in good health, and satisfied with their position. The Bengali even dotes on you, he says, now that you have produced a child.”
“I will not disown the boy,” said Toramana, the words coming curt and abrupt.
Sanga made a small, dismissive gesture with his hand. “That will not be required. Nor, for that matter, that you put aside the concubines. You are a warrior, after all, bringing your blood to that of a warrior race. Let the old women chatter as they will.”
Suddenly, a grin appeared on Sanga’s face. His earlier rage seemed to have vanished completely.
“Ha! Let the Malwa priests and spies scurry like insects. Let Nanda Lal squirm in his soul, for a change.”
Moving with the speed and grace which was his trademark, Sanga resumed his seat at the table. Then, leaning over, he bestowed his grin on Toramana.
“Besides, Indira is very comely. And, as I said, a spirited girl. I do not think there is much danger that you will be overly distracted by concubines.”
He gestured to a bowl containing fruit and pastries. “Let us eat, Toramana. I will have my servants bring tea, as well. After the campaign in the Deccan—or as soon as there seems to be an opportunity—it will be done. Perhaps in Rajputana, which would be my preference so long as I can attend. If not, I will send for Indira and you will be wed within the bosom of the army.
“Which,” he continued, reaching for an apricot, “would perhaps be best in any event. The marriage, after all, was created in the army. Only that forge was hot enough to do such difficult work.”
* * *
That night, long after Sanga had departed, Lord Damodara’s spymaster entered the command tent. The Malwa commander, engrossed in his study of the maps, gave the old Roman eunuch no more than a glance. Then, using his head as a pointer, he nodded toward a small package resting on his nearby field cot.
“There,” he said. “Make sure my wife receives it. Send it off tonight, if possible.”
“You are not planning to visit her yourself?” asked Narses. “The army will be passing Kausambi on our way to the Deccan.”
Damodara’s headshake was curt and abrupt. “I cannot. Nanda Lal’s instructions on that matter were as clear and precise as all the rest. I am not to leave the army under any circumstances.”
“Ah.” Narses nodded. “I understand.”
The eunuch moved over to the cot and picked up the package. By the weight and feel of it, there was nothing inside the silk wrapping beyond a few message scrolls and some trinkets for Damodara’s three children. Narses began to leave the tent. Then, at the flap, he paused as if an idle thought had come to him.
“I’ve obtained some more slaves for your wife’s household,” he said. “They came cheaply. Two whores a bit too well-used to turn a profit any longer. But the brothel-keeper said they were obedient creatures, and capable enough in the kitchen.”