At that moment the blue queen, who was wearing a silver crown, turned her head to look at him and with a jolt Joe recognized Padmini.
The trumpet sounded again, a single note. Joe caught the eye of one of his red pawns. Did he have a feeling that she was expecting to be called on? He rather thought she did and he held up two fingers. The pawn duly advanced two squares and confronted Edgar’s front rank. Edgar sent forward one of his yellow-skirted pawns and the battle was engaged.
Joe surmised that no one would be entertained if the game dragged on and he decided to play with panache. He remembered a move he and a fellow officer had devised in the trenches in a despairing attempt to distract from the tedium and the terror of being pinned down by German artillery, unable to move forward or retreat. They’d called it ‘Haig’s Mate’ and if all went according to plan he should be able to close down the game in fifteen moves.
But Edgar was giving no quarter and was from the outset making clear his intention to win. He spent hardly any time considering his game, which seemed to be a style the audience and indeed the chess pieces appreciated. Joe noticed that on occasions when a player spent a little longer in thought, the piece herself, when finally called to action, was a fraction of a second ahead of the call, a slim foot edging forward in anticipation of the move.
Edgar soon extricated himself from Joe’s planned sequence and the advantage moved to and fro between the two well-matched players. One by one, pieces lost or sacrificed stamped off in a tinkle of bells to the edge of the board until only a handful were left on each side.
Joe hesitated before making the next move. He gratefully accepted a glass of pomegranate juice from a footman, using that as a respite from the remorseless speed of play. He noticed that Edgar was taking another whisky-soda from the tray. Edgar had wriggled out of all the traps Joe had set and gone on the attack with a flourish. Over the rim of his glass Joe suddenly noticed that the left foot of his blue queen was tapping out a pattern. Unlike the other pieces she was not wearing ankle bells and her movements were probably unnoticed by the crowd. He looked more carefully. Five taps. In the top left-hand corner of her square. Could she be giving him a signal? What would happen if he. .? He ran his eye along the diagonals. Blast it! How could he not have noticed! The exhausting day, the champagne, the lateness of the hour — he could think of reasons enough, but Joe cursed himself for his lapse in attention.
He signalled to his queen that she should move five squares diagonally to the left. Unleashed at last, she swooped forward with the relish of an avenging Fury, dark skirts rustling, and rounded on Edgar’s king.
‘Check,’ announced Claude briskly.
This was Joe’s breakthrough and four decisive moves later Claude shouted, ‘Shah mat! The king is dead! Checkmate!’
Edgar stared at Joe across the courtyard, stiff with defiance and anger, but he bowed courteously. Joe returned the bow. To his alarm, the girls had fluttered back on to their squares and both armies now stood facing him, some looking modestly and evasively at their feet, others eyeing him with flirtatious speculation.
‘Time to bite the bullet, Sandilands. Don’t fuss!’ whispered Claude. ‘Just smile and pick a number.’
Joe caught the straight gaze of Padmini and without hesitation said, ‘If the blue queen would care to step forward. .?’
Laughter and even a little discreet applause rippled round the square as she moved through the files to stand in front of him, still smiling.
The Dewan slapped him on the shoulder. ‘A good choice. And a fitting reward for a game well played. Edgar is not an easy opponent. You have had a long and exhausting day, Commander, and are probably looking forward to your bed. Padmini will escort you to your quarters. She too is a skilled performer. At chess. Perhaps you will keep each other awake practising your moves. .’ He shook with laughter, involving everyone in his mischievous good humour. ‘Take care not to overtire yourself. . tomorrow promises to be a busy day.’
‘Just go quietly, old man,’ advised Claude. ‘Autre pays, autres moeurs, don’t you know!’
‘If he reminds me I’m not in Knightsbridge now, I’ll hit him,’ Joe decided.
With as little ceremony as he could manage, he set off to follow the twinkling silver crown of Padmini who moved a few paces ahead of him, swaying through the thinning crowds and into the increasingly deserted corridors. They crossed courtyards silent but for a slight breeze stirring the leaves and the gentle splashing of fountains. In the distance Joe thought he caught sounds of distressed wailing and the low throb of a drum but all else was quiet.
At last, in the centre of a courtyard which he thought he recognized, Padmini paused and leaned over the basin of a fountain, dipping her arms in the cool water. Joe watched her playing with the drifting blossoms on the surface, deciding this was probably the time tactfully to tell her to return to her quarters rather than wait for the awkward moment when he would turn to face her on his doorstep. Did she speak any English? How on earth did you tell a girl in very rudimentary Hindi that, though you thought her the most arousing girl you had ever seen, her services were not required?
He joined her at the fountain, preparing his speech. But no words would come. He stared, overcome by the nearness of the girl, tongue-tied with awe for her beauty. In her clinging blue silk she was almost invisible in the dark courtyard but the moonlight caught the jewels of her crown and lit the smiling great eyes she turned to him. Joe was overcome. He was beginning to lose his struggle with the deeply primitive emotion that had him in its grip. With his last reserves of determination he cleared his throat and began to croak out his rejection speech.
‘Padmini? Have I got that right? Now, look here, Padmini, I’m most frightfully sorry but. .’
The gazelle eyes flashed with comprehension then narrowed in disdain. Angrily, she leaned forward into the fountain and smacked the surface of the water hard, directing a spray of water straight at Joe’s face. With a peal of laughter to see his gasping astonishment, she turned and ran off leaving him dripping and cursing by the pool.
Bloody girl! But at least she’d taken the hint pretty quickly. With relief and disappointment in equal measure, he set off again, certain that he could find his own way back to his room from this spot. After a few paces he stopped and listened. Pattering feet were going ahead of him in the same direction.
He caught up with her at his door and rounded on her. Cool arms went up and locked with surprising strength behind his neck. He felt his shirt damp on his skin as she pressed herself to him and, standing on her toes, lifted her lips to kiss him. As their breath mingled he was enveloped by the sweet scent of the girl, attar of roses a seductive top-note to a surge of female warmth. His arms slipped of their own will around her waist. She was warm and scented and more than willing. She had attracted his attention, won the game for him and he would have said was claiming him as her prize. God! He needed this! And he’d earned it! ‘Another country, other customs,’ wasn’t that what Claude had said? Surrendering himself to the moment, Joe groaned and lowered his face to hers.
‘Aw, for God’s sake, Joe! They really stitched you up good, didn’t they!’
The door of his room had opened and lamplight from inside revealed the figure of Madeleine standing there, wearing a long white robe, a glass in her hand.
Joe couldn’t speak but anything he said would have been unheard as the two women faced each other. Padmini hissed something unintelligible in Hindi and Madeleine replied with matching scorn. ‘Same to you, sister! Now do us all a favour and beat it back to your lord and master!’ She grinned nastily. ‘And you can tell him you were outplayed. Victim of a discovered attack by the white queen!’