The Story of Sonny Sahib | Page 9

saddle and a
tasselled bridle, and a pink-nosed white charger that stepped and
pranced in the bazar so that Ram Dass himself had to get out of the way.
It ought to be said that the horseman's clothes did not fit him very well,
that his saddle girth was helped out by a bit of rope, and that his
charger was rather tender on his near fore-foot; but these are not things
that would be noticed in Rubbulgurh, being lost in the general
splendour of his appearance.
Sonny Sahib ran after the horseman with all the other boys, until, to
everybody's astonishment, he stopped with tremendous prancings at
Tooni's mud doorstep, where she sat to watch him go by. Then Sonny
Sahib slipped away. He was afraid--he did not know of what. He ran
half a mile beyond the village, and helped Sumpsi Din keep the parrots
out of his father's millet crop all day long. Nor did he say a word to
Sumpsi Din about it, for fear he should be persuaded to go back again.
Instead, he let Sumpsi Din sleep for long hours at a time
face-downwards on his arm in the sun, which was what Sumpsi Din
liked best in the world, while he, Sonny Sahib, clapped his hands a
hundred times at the little green thieves, abusing them roundly, and
wondering always at the back of his head why so splendid a horseman
should have stopped at his particular doorstep. So it was not until the
evening, when he came back very hungry, hoping the horseman would
be gone, that he heard Tooni's wonderful news. Before she gave him
water or oil, or even a chupatty, Tooni told him, holding his hand in
hers.
'The Maharajah has sent for you, O noonday kite; where have you been
in the sun? The Maharajah has sent for you, lotus-eyed one, and I,

though I am grown too old for journeys, must go also to the palace of
the Maharajah! Oh, it is very far, and I know not what he desires, the
Maharajah! My heart is split in two, little Sahib! This khaber is the cat's
moon to me. I will never sleep again!'
Then for some reason the fear went out of Sonny Sahib. 'Am I not
going with you, Tooni-ji?' said he, which was his way of saying 'dear
Tooni.' 'There is no cause for fear. And will it not be very beautiful, the
palace of the Maharajah? Sumpsi Din says that it is built of gold and
silver. And now I should like six chupatties, and some milk and some
fried brinjal, like yesterday's, only more, Tooni-ji.'

CHAPTER IV

The palace of the Maharajah at Lalpore was not exactly built of gold
and silver; but if it had been, Sonny Sahib could hardly have thought it
a finer place. It had a wall all round it, even on the side where the river
ran, and inside the wall were courts and gardens with fountains and
roses in them, divided by other walls, and pillared verandahs, where
little green lizards ran about in the sun, and a great many stables, where
the Maharajah's horses pawed and champed to be let out and ridden.
The palace itself was a whole story higher than the stables, and
consisted of a wilderness of little halls with grated windows. It smelt
rather too strong of attar of roses in there--the Maharajah was fond of
attar of roses-- but the decorations on the whitewashed walls, in red and
yellow, were very wonderful indeed. The courtyards and the verandahs
were full of people, soldiers, syces, merchants with their packs,
sweetmeat sellers, barbers; only the gardens were empty. Sonny Sahib
thought that if he lived in the palace he would stay always in the
gardens, watching the red-spotted fish in the fountains, and gathering
the roses; but the people who did live there seemed to prefer smoking
long bubbling pipes in company, or disputing over their bargains, or
sleeping by the hour in the shade of the courtyard walls. There were no
women anywhere; but if Sonny Sahib had possessed the ears or the
eyes of the country, he might have heard many swishings and
patterings and whisperings behind curtained doors, and have seen many

fingers on the curtains' edge and eyes at the barred windows as he went
by.
This was the palace, and the palace was the crown of Lalpore, which
was built on the top of a hill, and could lock itself in behind walls ten
feet thick all round, if an enemy came that way.
The Maharajah was to receive them in one of the pillared verandahs,
one that looked out over the river, where there was a single great ivory
chair, with a red satin cushion, and