‘Is there nothing you can do, sir?’
‘Nothing. Painkillers when necessary but even that’s superfluous — they have their own local supplies, as you’ll be aware. In fact his Ayurvedic remedies may well prove to be the most efficacious when it comes to these last stages.’ He frowned and went on, ‘I’m trying to learn what it’s all about and I have to say it’s not all the mumbo-jumbo you might expect. Oh, no. I’ve seen some quite remarkable things. . The ruler keeps a potion about the place at all times and when he feels he’s in extremis he’ll swallow it.’
‘Kill himself, do you mean?’ Joe was alarmed.
‘No, no.’ Sir Hector shook his head and smiled. ‘Quite the reverse. It’s something called hiranya garbha. It’s a blend of pure gold — yes, the metal — goodness knows what the process might be for melting it down and making it digestible! — and ginger and other reviving herbs. If you take it on your deathbed, it’s reputed to bring you round sufficiently to enable you to talk. Been used — you can imagine the circumstances! — to elicit a last-gasp answer to urgent questions of the “Where did you hide the key of the treasure house, bapuji?” type. I will observe its effects with interest, should the occasion arise. Might even write a paper on it. . But it’s not the ruler’s demise I wanted to talk to you about,’ he finished hesitantly.
Joe sipped his whisky and waited.
‘The deaths of the two sons have concerned me. Well, of course, they’ve concerned everyone. And from your presence amongst us, Sandilands, I’d guess that the powers that be are troubled also. Is that right?’
Joe nodded. ‘Yes, indeed, sir. And we were wondering whether you had any information regarding the deaths, any medical information perhaps, that might help us to understand the circumstances?’
‘Difficult. Hindus don’t go in for post-mortems, you know. I wouldn’t have been expected to carry one out on the princes and, after all, the cause of the deaths was very clear in each case. But in the case of the elder prince — Bishan, wasn’t it? — the ruler actually asked me to inspect the body. Not the regular carve up, you understand, more a snoop around to give him the specific information he wanted.’
‘Which was. .?’
‘Quite simply — did the boy suffer? That’s all.’
‘A reasonable request from a father?’ suggested Joe.
‘Yes, of course. A natural need to know. But it was the answer to the question that intrigued me.’
Sir Hector nodded towards the central table. ‘Had the body brought here before we gave it over to the bai-bands. You know the circumstances of the death?’
Joe nodded. ‘Savaged by a wild panther, I hear?’
‘In a nutshell, yes. The body was a mess, as you can imagine. The flesh was shredded, one arm torn off. . the beast must have been hungry — it had started to eat him. But, you’re a hunter, perhaps you are aware that a panther kills cleanly? One blow would have been enough to finish him off and I think I identified the lethal blow. To the throat. Where you’d expect it. The subsequent mangling looked dramatically hideous but practically all the wounds occurred after the poor chap was already dead.’
‘So the answer to Udai Singh’s question would be that his son did not suffer an unduly horrifying or protracted death?’
‘That’s so. But there’s something else. Difficult to tell with the destruction of tissue but there were signs that he’d taken a stiff dose of opium: pinpoint pupils, discoloration of the tongue. Now, Bishan wasn’t a complete fool. He took opium every morning, many Rajputs do — it’s hardly significant to them. Of as much note as this whisky we’re both enjoying.’ He waved his glass at Joe and offered to refill it. ‘It fortifies them for the day. But it doesn’t make them blind and deaf. On a normal day there’s no way Bishan would have failed to notice that the beast’s jaws were not sewn up and it still had its claws.’
‘But this was not a normal day?’
‘Well, it didn’t make much sense to me, the whole scene, so I called for his body servant, the chap who was always close to the prince in the morning, and questioned him. Easier said than done! These princes are surrounded by a retinue of servants, all apparently completely loyal to their master. Well, that’s Rajputs for you — they’ll defend their rulers whatever their faults. Anyway, I finally got hold of the right chap, gained his confidence and listened to what he had to tell me. . I say, I hope I haven’t muddied the waters?’
‘On the contrary, you did exactly the right thing.’
‘Good to hear you say so. Well, I asked him how much of the drug he’d taken. . made him describe Bishan’s routine. The servant confirmed that Bishan took his opium in the traditional local manner. Here. . Look.’
Sir Hector opened a drawer, took out a small object and put it into Joe’s palm. Joe studied the ball of dull yellow-grey substance with interest.
‘This is how it’s prepared for consumption.’
‘Nothing like this at Ciro’s,’ said Joe.
‘I’m sincerely glad to hear it! It’s been cooked in milk and sugar to counteract the evil taste.’
‘What on earth are you supposed to do with it?’
‘You take one of these,’ said Sir Hector, picking up an oval-shaped mortar. ‘I say, Sandilands, don’t assume that I always have the makings to hand, will you? I took the liberty of removing these from Bishan’s rooms. . You pop the opium ball into the mortar and crush it. Then you mix it with water, filter it and drink. It’s a lot faster and much more immediate than smoking it through a hookah which is an alternative.’
‘Where did he get it from? Who was his supplier?’
‘No mystery there. It’s not exactly on prescription, you know. You can get it in any bazaar but Bishan got his from a local tribe — the Bishnoi — who live further south near Jodhpur. They’re farmers, pacifists, nature-lovers, tree-worshippers, if you can believe.’
‘And purveyors of strange substances to the royal family?’
‘For generations. Apparently Bishan had been taking a mild formula for years and appeared to be accustomed to it and tolerating it reasonably well. But then, according to the servant, two days before he died, Bishan asked him to make up his drink using a different supply. He produced a box with three balls of opium and had one made up in the usual way. From its effects the servant assumed it was a stronger formula — it put Bishan on his back for half the day.
‘He recovered and, nothing loath, took a second shot at it the following morning. He was just compos mentis enough to follow his morning routine, including the panther wrestling, with lethal consequences. That ball of opium you’re holding in your hand is the third and last remaining sample of the special batch. It would be interesting to find out how he came by them. Not, I think, from the servant who had been most helpful. When he realized what I was suspecting, he began to panic. By this time, the chap was quivering with fear, naturally. Thought he might be suspected of being instrumental in something nefarious and might expect a visit from Ajit Singh and his merry men. I think I managed to calm him down and dismissed it as nothing important — just a physician’s curiosity. They all know I’m interested in Indian medicine so I think I covered my tracks.