Holkar made no verbal response. The expression on his face was quite enough.
Irene laughed. "You should model for sculptors, Dadaji-the next time they need to carve a Buddha."
Holkar squeezed his wife close. "So I keep telling Gautami." He chuckled. "Stubborn woman! She persists in denying my sainthood."
"Of course I do," came the instant response. Irene almost gasped, seeing the woman's eyes. Still shy, still half-downcast, but-yes! Twinkling!
"What kind of a saint snores?" demanded Gautami.
My God-she told a joke!
"The girl has gone mad, Maloji," growled Rao, glaring down at the elephant leading the enormous-and utterly bizarre-"relief column" which was almost at the huge gate in Deogiri's southern wall. From his perch atop that wall, Rao could see Shakuntala clearly. The empress was riding alone on the lead elephant, standing completely erect in full imperial regalia.
"Look!" he cried, pointing an accusing finger. "She does not even have a bodyguard in her howdah!"
Serenely, Maloji examined the army of polearm-wielding Maratha peasants who flanked the howdah, just beyond the stiff ranks of Kushans who marched directly alongside the empress. His gaze moved to the ostrich-plumed black soldiers who came behind her elephant.
Then, scanning slowly, Maloji studied the various military units which trotted all over the landscape south of the walled city, alertly watching for Malwa enemies. He recognized the Cholan and Keralan troops, but could only guess at the exact identity of the others. There were perhaps three thousand of them in all, he thought. It was difficult to make a good estimate, however, because of the huge crowd of Marathas which seemed to fill the landscape.
Rao started pounding the top of the wall with his hands. "What is Kungas thinking?" he demanded.
Maloji leaned back, sighing satisfaction. "I never realized how many nations there are in this world," he murmured. Then, casting his glance sideways at the fretful man by his side, he chuckled.
"Relax, Rao!" Another chuckle. "I really don't think she's in any danger from the Vile One's army."
Now, an outright laugh. Maloji jerked his head back and to the north. "Ha! The Vile One has all his troops surrounding his camp, while he cowers in his pavilion. For all intents and purposes, he is the one besieged this day."
Rao was still slapping the wall. Maloji snorted.
"Stop this, old friend!" He reached over and pinned Rao's hands to the stones. "You are being foolish, and you know it. Another report came in from Bharakuccha just this morning. More Malwa troops are stumbling into the city, seeking a haven. Entire garrisons, as often as not, from some of the smaller towns. The whole land is seething rebellion. The Great Country is coming to a boil. There is no chance in the world that Malwa will strike at the empress. Not today, for a certainty."
Rao stared at him. For a moment, he tried to pry his hands from under Maloji's. But there was no great conviction in that effort.
"She is still insane," he muttered stubbornly. "This whole scheme of hers is insane. It. . it. ." He took a breath. "She is endangering her purity-her sacred lineage-for the sake of mere statecraft."
For a moment, Rao's usual wit returned. "A masterstroke, I admit, from the standpoint of gaining Maratha allegiance." Wit vanished with the wind; the deep scowl returned. "But it is still-"
"Stop it!" commanded Maloji. Suddenly, almost angrily, he seized Rao's wrists and jerked the man away from the wall.
Startled, Rao's eyes went to his. Maloji shook his head.
"You do not believe any of this, Rao. You are simply afraid, that is all. Afraid that what you say is true. Afraid that the girl who comes to you today is not the girl you longed for, but simply an empress waging war."
After a moment, Rao's eyes dropped. He said nothing. There was no need for words.
Maloji smiled. "So I thought." He released Rao's wrists, but only to seize the man's shoulders and turn him toward the stairs leading down to the city below. Already, they could hear the sound of the great gates opening.
"Go, go! It's long past time the two of you spoke." He began pushing Rao ahead of him. Majarashtra's greatest dancer seemed to be dragging his feet.
"And let me make a suggestion." Maloji chortled. "I think you'd better stop thinking of her as a `girl.' "
They were alone, now. Even Kungas had left the room, secure in the knowledge that his empress was in the care of a man who was, among many other things, one of India's greatest assassins.
Rao stared at Shakuntala. It had been three years since he saw her last. And then only for two hours.
"You have changed," he said. "Greatly."
Shakuntala's eyes began to shy away, but came back firmly.
"How so?" she asked, straightening her back. Shakuntala's normal posture was so erect that she always looked taller than she was. Now, she was standing like an empress. Her black eyes held the same imperial aura.
Rao shook his head. It was the slow gesture of a man in a daze, trying to match reality to vision.
"You seem-much older. Much-" He waved his hand. The gesture, like the headshake, was vague and hesitant. He took a breath. "You were a beautiful girl. You are so much more beautiful, now that you are a woman. I do not understand how that is possible."
There was perhaps a hint of moisture in Shakuntala's eyes. But her only expression was a sly smile.
"You have not changed much, Rao. Except there is some gray in your beard."
Rao stood as erect as the empress. Harshly: "That is only one of the reasons-"
"Be quiet."
Rao's mouth snapped shut. For a moment, his jaw almost sagged. He had never heard Shakuntala speak that way. The Panther of Majarashtra was as stunned as any of the pampered brahmin envoys who had also been silenced by that ancient voice of great Satavahana.
When Shakuntala continued, her tone was cold and imperious. "I do not wish to hear anything about your age. What of it? It has never mattered to me. It did not matter to me when I was a girl, held captive by Malwa. It does not matter to me now, when I am the Empress of Andhra."
She snorted. "Even less! No untested young husband would survive Malwa, so I would still be a widow soon enough."
Rao began to speak again.
"Be quiet." Again, Rao's mouth snapped shut.
"I will hear no argument, Rao. I will listen to no words which speak of age, or blood and purity, or propriety and custom. I have made my decision, and I will not be swayed."
Imperial hauteur seemed to crack. Perhaps. Just a bit. Shakuntala looked away.
"I will not force you into this, Rao. You have only to say-no. Refuse me if you wish, and I will bow to that refusal. But I will hear no argument."
"If I wish?" he cried. Shakuntala's gaze came back to him, racing like the wind. In that instant, she knew the truth.
There was no hint of moisture in her eyes, now. The tears flowed like rain. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. Her shoulders began to shake.
"I never knew," she whispered. Then, sobbing: "Oh, Rao-I never knew. All those years-"
Rao's own voice was choked, his own eyes wet. "How could I-?" His legs buckled. On the floor, kneeling, head down: "How could I? I only-only-"
She was kneeling in front of him. Cradling him in her arms, whispering his name, kissing his eyes, weeping softly into his hair.
Eventually, humor returned, bringing its own long-shared treasure.
"You must be off," murmured Rao. "This is most unseemly, for a virgin to be alone with a man for so long."
Shakuntala gurgled laughter. "I'm serious!" insisted Rao. "People will say I married a slut. My reputation will be ruined."