The Elephant Keeper's Daughter by Julia Drosten

Author:Julia Drosten [Drosten, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542048552
Publisher: Amazon Crossing
Published: 2018-04-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

September 1822

“Higher, Grandma, higher!”

Little Thambo giggled on the swing Eranga had hung from the mango tree in Anshu’s garden. His playmates hopped about with excitement as they eagerly awaited their turn. Anshu did as he asked, and she smiled as her grandson shrieked delightedly and waved his little feet with glee.

That smile faded the moment she saw the horseman. He was an Englishman, just like the rider who, more than two full moons ago, had taken away all the men from the village. But this man was not a solider. He wore jodhpurs and boots, a dark jacket, and a broad-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. Anshu looked frantically for a weapon but saw nothing. She stopped the swing, lifted her grandson off, and transferred the child to her hip. With her free hand, she shooed the other children.

“Run home now! Quickly, quickly!”

With reluctance, the children toddled away but not far, as they did not want to miss anything.

The Englishman reined in his horse. “Ayubowan,” he said in greeting.

“Ayubowan, stranger,” replied Anshu hesitantly. No Englishman had ever greeted her with courtesy, not in his own language and certainly never in her own.

The stranger looked at her for some time. Then he bowed and said, “I didn’t expect us to meet again.”

Anshu studied the Englishman, and slowly his face brought back images of the day that changed everything forever. Here in front of her was the man who had saved her youngest daughter’s life. But did that mean she could trust him? An Englishman?

“What do you want?” she said, her voice flat.

He smiled kindly. “How are you and your children?”

He must mean Samitha and Mihiri. The commander had ordered his removal before the soldiers had raped Mihiri to death. And he couldn’t have known Phera was her daughter. Anshu was relieved that Samitha and Phera were out pulling weeds in the rice field.

“Is that your grandson?” continued the Englishman. He winked at Thambo, who was gazing wide-eyed at the horse.

Anshu nodded warily and held the child closer.

Henry sighed. “You do not wish to speak to me. I fully understand. I ought to introduce myself: My name is Henry Odell. I am surgeon to the Fifteenth Infantry Regiment and am the doctor accompanying the new-road construction work.” He paused to remove his hat. His voice took on a solemn tone. “What happened then, in Uva, was appalling. My brother should never have incited his soldiers to such barbaric behavior. And the execution of your husband and the other man was a crime.”

Anshu listened in shock. His brother? Was the only Englishman who had objected to the atrocities against her people really the brother of the monster who had given the orders?

How can two people as different as day from night be born to the same mother? she thought, shaken to the core.

“Grandma?” Thambo’s little voice pulled her from this numbness. “What’s that?” He was pointing at Henry’s mount. Instinct made her put her hand on the back of his head, and she drew his face protectively toward her chest.

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