The Golden Leopard (35 page)

“I don’t see the point,” Jessica protested. “If anyone got so far as to think it might be here, you could be compelled to disclose the location. And we are under constant scrutiny. Duran, enough! We shall take the leopard, give it to Shivaji, and let him deal with whatever consequences there might be.”

The look he gave her over his shoulder could have fried an egg, but she’d had enough of his connivances and deceits. She stood, went to him, and snatched the leopard away. “I am very sorry, Miss Holcombe, that we involved you in this. Once we are gone, you will no longer have anything to fear.”

“But I fear nothing now,” Miranda said. “Nothing concerned with your icon, at any rate. My allotment of worry has been commandeered by other, less fantastical troubles, so I have none to spare for yours. To conceal the icon will be no trouble. And because I have been provokingly helpless to deal with my own problems, it would give me pleasure to accomplish something of use for a change.”

She had spoken calmly, but there was a plea in her eyes. Jessica recognized it. She, too, felt helpless in the face of the troubles besieging her. At whatever risk, she wanted to overcome at least one of them. How could she deny Miss Holcombe the right to choose for herself?

Duran had withdrawn into the shadows, blessedly leaving the females to sort things out for themselves. “Are you sure?” Jessica asked, the leopard burning in her hands.

“Quite sure.” Miranda rose. “There is an abandoned ice house dug into the limestone not far from here. I came across it quite by accident. It lies in a copse of birch about half a mile directly north of the gatehouse, and only the tops of the trees are visible from the castle. You should have no difficulty locating it and recovering the icon without being seen. Was there anything else you wished to secure?”

“No,” said Jessica before Duran could mention the knives. “We are most grateful for your assistance.”

“Then one day, if all goes well, perhaps you will tell me what occurred. For now, I’m afraid the dogs will already have been let loose in the house, so if you are to leave, I must distract them. Shall we go?”

Not liking to do it, Jessica returned the leopard to the box and by Miranda’s direction, placed it in a cubbyhole behind a small grate. Duran relocked the dungeon and they all trooped back the way they’d come, leaving the extinguished torches in the guardroom and reentering the hidden passageway.

When they reached the concealed panel, Miranda gave Jessica the candle she was carrying. “I’ll leave the panel a little open so that you can hear what is going on upstairs. There will be a great clamor of barking and probably some swearing. When it concludes, count to twenty and then move quickly. Turn right and go to the door at the end of the passageway. It will take you out the back way, avoiding questions about where we have been and what you have been doing. Good-bye for now. I hope we shall meet again.”

“But what are you going to do?” Jessica said. “Will the dogs hurt you?”

“They know me. I wish only to distract them while you depart. My cats will take care of that.”

“Good heavens,” said Jessica with some awe. Since they met, Miranda Holcombe had not ceased to astonish her. “The poor cats.”

“Not at all. They are wily and exceedingly fast. The dogs are stupid, not nearly so fast, and they cannot climb curtains.”

Then she was gone, leaving Duran and Jessica to look at each other in wonder.

It was a moonless night, and patchy clouds obscured much of the sky. From several directions, Duran saw, the Others were coming in from their positions around the castle, and by some trick of multiplication, there were twelve of them now. Had he entertained the notion of slipping through a fallen-down wall and into the Mendips, he wouldn’t have got far. But now he knew where the leopard could be found, and one way or another, by God, he’d shake loose of his captors and come back for it.

Arjuna ignited the carriage lanterns and pulled several torches from the boot while Shivaji gave orders in a dialect unfamiliar to Duran. Four of the men, flaming torches in their hands, moved in front of the coach, and the others stayed to the rear.

Quite a little procession for this backwater road. Since everyone else was busy, Duran lowered the carriage steps and helped Jessica inside. Her arm trembled, and she caught her foot on the top step. He should have taken greater care with her. Despite his exhilaration, he was tired, and she must be as well. Also nervous and overset because he had not presented the leopard to Shivaji, which she didn’t know was tantamount to offering his throat for the slitting.

He climbed in beside her, brushed back her hair with his thumbs, and gave her a soft kiss. “You were splendid tonight,” he said. “As always. I don’t want you to worry about what happens next. I have no more idea about that than you do. But I’ll not be reckless, and I swear I won’t put you in danger.”

“Do you imagine that is my concern? Don’t patronize me, Duran. We are both in this up to our eyebrows. All I ask is that we take no one else with us.”

“Agreed,” he said, meaning it. His own selfishness gnawed at his guts like rats at a cheese. If he could begin again, he’d not draw Jessica into his ordeal, or perhaps he only wanted to believe that. In most ways it was the same old game, the one dealt by the nizam nearly a year ago, but now he had an ace up his sleeve. And ten days to see how it all played out, and Jessie with him until he gathered the strength to send her away.

But who would have thought he’d find the damn leopard? Who except Shivaji? He didn’t like thinking about that, and was glad when the carriage began to move.

They had been traveling
nearly an hour, Jessica nestled asleep against his chest, when a scream—from an animal, he thought at first—stampeded the horses.

Jessica sprang awake. He held on to her as the carriage rocked and swerved. Tree branches slapped the panels and scraped the window glass.

More screams. Shouts. The blast of gunfire.

He pushed her onto the floor and covered her with his body. A bullet came through the window, sending shards of glass raining over them. Tossed about like dice in a shaker, they could do nothing but cling to each other as the coach bounced and swayed.

Jessica gasped out a word. “Highwaymen?”

“No.” He couldn’t lie to her now. He’d recognized the cries of the attackers.
Jai!
It meant “victory!”

The nizam’s enemies had caught up with them.

Another burst of gunfire, some of it close to hand. A scream from the driver’s bench. The coach veered to the left. He went with it, his head crashing against the door. Jessica was trapped somewhere under his legs. The carriage rocked, teetered, righted itself again. And then, with a jolt that sent them both nearly to the ceiling and back again, it came to a halt.

Eerie silence. Dragging himself to the broken window, he raised his head and looked outside. Fallen torches, still afire, cast shadows over the trees and the ground and the figures struggling there. Men were fighting hand-to-hand, expending no breath on sound. A riderless horse went by.

It wasn’t so quiet as he first had thought. Battles raged some distance in front of the coach and behind it. He heard the clang of swords, the stomping of hooves, and rarely, a shriek of pain.

In the coach, they were sitting ducks. He launched himself to the other door, threw it open, and lifted Jessica from the floor. “We have to get out of here. You first. Stay low.”

She scrambled to the opening, turned herself to face inside the coach, and held on to the sill as she lowered herself to the ground.

He heard a cry, saw her fingers clawing at the sill. Just as they lost their grip, he caught hold of one slender wrist. Her other hand waved just within his reach and he grabbed hold of that as well. Bracing himself, he pulled her back inside.

She landed on her knees in front of him. “C-cliff.”

“Stay here.” He wriggled past her and draped himself out the open door, feeling for the ground. About six inches, perhaps eight, separated the coach wheels from the void. “It might be only a gully,” he said. “I’m going out.”

Her hand took hold of his hair and yanked him back. “No. There are gorges here. Hundreds of feet deep. Take care.”

Gorges on one side, rabid snake worshipers on the other. He’d take his chances with the gorge. But first, hedging his bet, he let himself out, his legs dangling into empty air, and swung them up and under until he lay on his back beneath the coach. Then, slithering to the other side, he peered through the spokes of the right front wheel. Directly in front of him, eyes open and a line of blood streaming from his mouth, lay the Gurkha who had ridden beside the driver.

Beyond was a small clearing. He saw a fallen horse and two more men, neither of them moving. One had been holding a torch, and as he watched, it sputtered and went out. Light flickered in the grove where the fighting continued, and from the lanterns on the coach. The gunfire had ceased. No time to reload, he knew from experience. Combat would be with sword and knife, foot and hand.

It didn’t matter to him which side won. He was dead in either case. It was Jessica who required protection now. Shivaji would spare her, if he survived. No certainty of that. If only the coach were not illuminated by those bloody lanterns.

Unwilling to risk exposure to the light, he went back to cliff’s edge, grappled the spokes of the left front wheel with both hands, and lowered his legs over the side. One foot caught something solid and held. He felt with the booted toe of his other foot. Had to let go one hand from the wheel to settle.

A ledge. It seemed firm enough, but he couldn’t be sure until he put his full weight on it. And tested its width. And . . . What the hell. He loosed his other hand from the wheel.

Nothing happened. Safe for now. He’d have to jump to get hold of the wheel again, but he could probably do it. He looked up and saw Jessica looking down at him.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m on a ledge of some sort. Let me see how far it goes.”

She vanished back into the coach.

After a few steps he’d moved beyond the light from the lanterns and had to feel his way, advancing sideways like a crab, his hands pressed to the cliff wall. Fairly soon the ground under his feet began to slope upward. When he reached out, his hands met the trunks of trees. Cover. From here they could slip into the woods.

He paused. Listened. It was pitch-black here. Muffled sounds came from not too far away, perhaps a hundred yards. Hard to tell.