‘Yes — General Asbjornsen’s.’
Prasad seemed unhappy. There was a long pause.
‘I want it,’ he said at last.
That blunt statement surprised me.
‘I’m afraid General Asbjornsen got there first.’
I thought it unnecessary to add that baths were not for mere majors like ourselves, especially when there was only one. Majors were lucky enough to be allowed a basin. I saw how easy it might become to describe the hardness of conditions when one had first joined the army. The declaration was also quite unlike Prasad’s apparent appreciation of such things.
‘But I need it.’
‘I agree it would be nice to have one, but he is a general — a lieutenant-general, at that.’
Prasad was again silent for a few seconds. He was certainly embarrassed, though by no means prepared to give up the struggle.
‘Can you ask General Asbjornsen to let me have it, Major Jenkins?’
He spoke rather firmly. This was totally unlike Prasad, so quiet, easy going, outwardly impregnated with British army ‘good form’. I was staggered. Apart from anything else, the request was not a reasonable one. For a major to eject a general from his room in the small hours of the morning was a grotesque conception. It looked as if it might be necessary to embark on an a priori disquisition regarding the Rules and Disciplines of War, which certainly laid down that generals had first option where baths were concerned. It was probably Rule One. I indicated that a major — even a military attaché, in a sense representing his own country — could not have a bathroom to himself, if three generals, themselves equally representative, were all of them at least theoretically, in the running. I now saw how lucky I was that neither Bobrowski nor Philidor had shown any sign of considering himself slighted by being allotted a bathless room. In fact Prasad’s claim did not merit serious discussion. I tried to put that as tactfully as possible. Prasad listened respectfully. He was not satisfied. I could not understand what had come over him. I changed the ground of argument, abandoning seniority of rank as reason, pointing out that General Asbjornsen had won the bath by right of conquest. He had led the way up the stairs, the first man — indeed, the first general — to capture the position. Prasad would not be convinced. There was another long pause. I wondered whether we should stay up all night. Prasad gave the impression of having a secret weapon, battery he preferred not to unmask unless absolutely necessary. However, it had to come into action at last.
‘It’s my religion,’ he said.
He spoke now apologetically. This was an entirely unexpected aspect.
‘Oh, I see.’
I tried to play for time, while I thought up some answer.
‘So I must have it,’ Prasad said.
He spoke with absolute finality.
‘Of course, I appreciate, Major Prasad, that what you have said makes a difference.’
He did not reply. He saw his projectile had landed clean on the target. I was defeated. The case was unanswerable, especially in the light of my instructions. Prasad looked sorry at having been forced to bring matters to this point. He looked more than sorry; terribly upset.
‘So can I have the bathroom?’
I buttoned up my battledress blouse again.
‘I’ll make certain enquiries.’
‘I’m sorry to be so much trouble.’
‘Wait a moment, Major Prasad.’
By a great piece of good fortune, General Asbjornsen was still in the bar. He and Bobrowski had not stopped arguing, though the subject had shifted from skiing boots to tactics. Asbjornsen was perhaps getting the worst of it, because his expression recalled more than ever the craggy features of Monsieur 0rn, the Norwegian at La Grenadière, who had such a row with Monsieur Lundquist, the Swede, for sending ‘sneaks’ over the net at tennis. I hoped no similar display of short temper was in the offing.
‘Sir?’
General Asbj0rnsen gave his attention.
‘Major Prasad has asked me if you would possibly consider surrendering to him the room with the bath?’
General Asbjornsen looked absolutely dumbfounded. He did not show the smallest degree of annoyance, merely stark disbelief that he had rightly grasped the meaning of the question.
‘But — I have the bath.’
‘I know, sir. That was why I was asking.’
‘I am there.’
‘That’s just it, sir. Major Prasad wants it.’
‘He wants it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The bathroom?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But — the bathroom — it is for me.’
‘It’s a very special request, sir.’
General Asbjornsen’s face by now showed at least that he accepted the request as a special one. It was only too easy to understand his surprise, the fact that the idea took some time to penetrate. This was not at all on account of any language difficulty. General Asbjornsen spoke English with the greatest fluency. As the conception began to take shape in his mind that Prasad’s designs on the bath were perfectly serious, the earlier look of wonder had changed to one of displeasure. His face hardened. Bobrowski, who loved action, especially if it offered conflict, grasping that a superbly comic tussle was promised, now joined in.
‘You are trying to take General Asbjornsen’s bath away from him, Major Jenkins?’
‘It’s for Major Prasad, sir, he —’
‘I don’t believe it, Major Jenkins, I believe you want it for yourself.’
Bobrowski had begun to laugh a lot.
‘It is the particular wish of Major Prasad, sir —’
‘Look here,’ said Asbjornsen, ‘I have the bath. I keep it.’
That was the crux of the matter. There was no arguing. I had hoped, without much conviction, to achieve General Asbjornsen’s dislodgment without playing Prasad’s trump card. Now this would have to be thrown on the table. It had become clear that much more discussion of this sort, to the accompaniment of Bobrowski’s determination to treat the matter as a huge joke, would make Asbjornsen more intractable than ever.
‘It’s a question of religion, sir.*
‘What?’
‘Major Prasad requires the room for religious reasons.’
That silenced them both. The statement, at least for the moment, made even more impression than I had hoped.
‘Religion?’ repeated Bobrowski.
I wished he would keep out of it. The bathroom was no business of his. By now I was entirely on Prasad’s side, dedicated to obtaining the bathroom for whatever purpose he needed it.
‘But this is a new idea,’ said Bobrowski. ‘I had not thought that was how baths are allotted on this tour. I am Catholic, what chance have I?’
‘Sir —’
‘Now I see why General Philidor went off to bed without even asking for the bathroom. Like many Frenchmen, he is perhaps free-thinker. He would have no chance for the bath. You would not let him, Major Jenkins. No religion — no bath. That is what you say. It is not fair.’
Bobrowski thought it all the funniest thing he had ever heard in his life. He laughed and laughed. Perhaps, in the long run, the conclusion of the matter owed something to this laughter of Bobrowski’s, because General Asbjornsen may have suspected that, if much more argument were carried on in this frivolous atmosphere, there was danger of his being made to look silly himself. Grasp of that fact after so comparatively short an interlude of Bobrowski’s intervention did Asbjornsen credit.
‘You can really assure me then, Major Jenkins, that this is, as you have reported, a question of religion.’
‘I can assure you of that, sir.’
‘You are in no doubt?’
‘Absolutely none, sir.’
‘In that case, I agree to the proposal.’
General Asbjornsen almost came to attention.
‘Thank you, sir. Thank you very much indeed. Major Prasad will be most grateful. I will inform Colonel Finn when I see him.’