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Dec. 20th, 2009 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismeninDear friends, it seems to have sorted itself out, now I've posted it again. If you left a comment on the first draft, I have had to delete it in the post, but I did answer it first! I appreciate your patience! Huggles. xxxxx
Thank you![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladysunrope for you fabulous beta talents, and thanks to all the readers who have kept pace with me. xxxxx <3
Part - 18
Time passed, and still Ian and Billy worked on Elijah's unconscious form. Ian's murmured instructions to his helper went unheeded by Dom, who sat there, still holding a cold hand, his mind clouded by sorrow.
"Dom," Ian said, his voice kind. "You are in the way. We need to move Elijah, and I need to come that side, now. Go and order things - you have responsibilities. I will find you...if there is anything to report."
Dom did not look at Ian; he could not have borne the pity he knew must be in his grandfather's face. Slowly he stood, and left the room without another word. As his grandfather had said - he had his duty to perform.
At the foot of the stairs he found Hill and Smithy waiting for him. After one look at the king's face, Hill wisely did not ask after Elijah. Through the thick English oak of a door, Dom could hear a woman sobbing. Mrs Portman, he thought.
"She has her maid with her," Hill volunteered. "I didn't think she'd need guarding - after all, she's hardly the sort to go leaping on a horse, and galloping off, is she?"
Dom blinked a few times, making certain his eyes were clear, and pulled himself together. He was a king, and must behave like a king. "I will speak with her, Hill. She may know something. Where have Vigran and Basmin Singh taken the prisoners?"
The soldiers felt sorry for Dom. He looked like a man who had suffered a terrible loss. Hill hoped that the little lord was not dead.
"They're all in the cells, my lord. Every last one of them is an English deserter, would you believe? Excepting one, of course," Hill amended, contradicting himself. "A lot of rotten apples in that barrel, sir, and that's a fact. Although Portman must have hired them in from somewhere. God knows where he found them, sir, ‘cos I don't. I don't recognise any of 'em."
Dom's mind began to clear slightly. He must do what he could, both for Elijah, for his country, and for the leaderless soldiers in the garrison. He would begin with Madam Portman.
"Come with me, men. I need witnesses - English ones." Before he had had a chance to move, David Wenham came in. He saluted, and said, "all quiet and orderly, Highness. The men have all been apprised of the situation, and have been stood down. Colonel Matthew has assumed temporary command, awaiting further instructions from Commander Boyd, whom they understand is in charge now."
Dom cleared his throat. "Commander Boyd is upstairs with...with Dr McKellen, Captain. You may go up and see if he has any instructions for you. If he has not, I will be glad if you will accompany me whilst I interview Mrs Portman."
David hurried upstairs, and came down a few minutes later, rather paler of complexion than before. "He is holding his own, the doctor says," David offered, not looking at Dom for fear of the pain he'd see in his eyes. "And Commander Boyd says he will speak with the men, shortly, if they will all gather in the mess hall in about half an hour. Corporal Smithson, will you inform Colonel Masters of this, if you please? That is, if His Highness can spare you."
Dom waved Smithy away, without a word, and David and Hill followed him into the parlour.
The room was a typical English parlour, crammed with furniture and ornaments. Mrs Portman sat in an overstuffed chintz-covered chair, sobbing into a wisp of a handkerchief. The tears appeared to be genuine, and her scrawny neck was suffused with red blotches.
Her maid, plump and stalwart, stood behind the chair, her grey eyes staring dispassionately at Dom as he entered the room.
"Please to go away, sir," she said in a broad Somerset accent. "Madam is not fit to see anyone..."
She stopped as she recognised David Wenham, who came forward and stood at Dom's side. "Mrs Portman, His Highness has some questions he would like to put to you."
The woman looked up at that. "Where is my husband?" she asked, wiping her nose carefully.
"He is in a cell in my palace dungeons, madam, and will remain there until I have time to ponder what is best done with him." Dom's voice was calm, but implacable.
She spoke only one word, but Dom felt unable to answer her. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling on the word.
David cleared his throat. "He had His Excellency, the ambassador, abducted from the palace, and has kept him imprisoned, here in the cellars underneath this house."
She looked shocked; unable to speak, she sat there, trembling.
"How is his lordship? Is he...harmed?" she ventured.
This time it was Dom who spoke. "He has been beaten, madam. Kicked, punched and left for dead. How do you expect him to be?"
She sobbed. "I am sorry! I knew nothing of this, I swear. Was this why my husband's cousin was shot?" This time she glanced at Dom, then away again. It was too much to comprehend.
"He was killed, madam, because he attempted to shoot His Highness," David offered. "He would have succeeded, too, if His Highness had been a lesser horseman. Fortunately for us, he swerved, in time."
"Highness," the woman drew around herself the shreds of her dignity. "I know nothing of anything my husband did here. He never spoke to me of what he called 'important matters'. I am, as he often said, only a weak woman, after all."
Dom noticed that she referred to her husband in the past tense. Her next sentence told him why. "If Your Highness will permit it, I shall return to England. I find I have no desire to stay with such a man, or in a place where such dreadful deeds must have been plotted. May I go?"
"Do you not wish to see your husband before you leave?" Dom asked, unsure as to the woman's feelings.
She shook her head. "I presume he confessed to doing this awful thing, otherwise you would not be here." No-one answered her.
"No, I do not wish to see him. Perhaps his batman would wish to go to him, but I do not. I shall retire to my father's estates in Hampshire, where, at least, I shall be of use to him."
Dom bowed slightly, as she turned to David. "Captain, may I have an escort of soldiers as far as Simla? I can easily get a train from there."
"Do you have enough money for your journey, and later needs?" Dom inquired, in a kinder tone. "You shall be provided with funds if you have none."
Her smile was not one of humour. "My husband was very keen on gathering into his coffers as much money as he could. In fact, he often boasted about it. No doubt the next incumbent will see to it that the men are better provided for - in every way."
Dom bowed himself out of the room, where he found Naadir, the steward standing in the hall, as if waiting for him. "Highness, the chief officers have come here, before the meeting in the mess, to hear what is to be done. I have placed them in the red salon."
Billy came down the stairs before Dom could answer. "He is holding his own, sir," he said, laying a comforting hand on Dom's arm, answering the unasked question in the king's eyes. "Dr Ian said to tell you to trust Dada-ji. I don't know why you should be trusting in your late grandfather, but that's what he said. "
Dom nodded. "Thank you, Commander. Will you accompany us into the salon? Your audience awaits you."
Ten minutes later the officers of the garrison came out. Some were shaking their heads, some were smiling, but all were glad to see the back of Portman, except one colonel, who was, David said, the general's 'bosom pal'. All of the officers, excepting him, had admitting to signing a petition sent to the War Office two months previously, outlining Portman's offences, and begging that the general be removed from office.
"I'm glad you said what you did, sir, about returning the guilty to England," David said to Billy, as they went across the square, followed by the officers, to speak to the men. "Glendenning will be better off subject to the War Office in London, than remaining here. Safer, too. Feelings are running a bit high, Commander. A court martial should put things right."
The sound of a pistol shot rang through the air. "I doubt it will be necessary, now," Billy said dryly, as a few men rushed towards the source of the noise. "At least, not for him."
As they reached the door to the mess, a sergeant ran up to them, saluted, and confirmed Billy's thoughts on the matter. The colonel had shot himself rather than face eventual disgrace, thus relieving them all of another burden.
They spent some time with the men, listening to their grievances, calming their fears. "If anyone knows of anyone else - apart from the late Colonel Glendenning - who was in Portman's pocket, speak out now. You will be commended for your honesty."
After a muttered colloquy amongst the men, Hill stood, as he was appointed spokesman for them all. "If there is, Commander, we don't know of him. And all the men have taken a dekko at the pris'ners, sir, as Captain Wenham ordered, and no-one knows any of them, either."
"The gen'ral and the late colonel, now - they had nothing to do with us common men, more's the pity, not like Colonel Masters, here, and Captain Wenham. They've always got time for us. It was their loss, 'cos sometimes, you can often learn a mort of int'rest from your common man," he said, looking pointedly at Dom, who privately agreed wholeheartedly with the statement.
The meeting broke up, after the men had offered enough information on Portman's neglectful rule, which, added to the officer's revelations, were enough to court-martial him ten times over.
Billy, noticing Dom’s increasing restlessness, informed him that there were other tasks to perform that did not necessarily require his presence. Wenham said that he was happy to give whatever aid he could to the matter. It wasn’t until Hill, keen to be helpful, interpreted that they meant him to ‘head off to the little lord as quick as maybe,’ that Dom realised they were trying to help him in his dilemma. Where he wanted to be most was not compatible with his role as king, and it was hard for him to concentrate on what needed to be done. Gratefully he thanked them all, and left for the Portman residence.
He took the stairs two at a time, and found Elijah lying peacefully in the bed, with Vigran Singh watching over him. He looked up as his cousin entered, then stood and bowed.
"Where's Dada-ji?" Dom asked, sitting beside Elijah, and holding his hand once more.
"He has gone to tend Basmin's wound, and a few other men who were injured. The hospital orderlies, having been taught by the late and unlamented Dr Crowley, as I understand it, only have the most rudimentary grasp of medical matters."
He looked down at the man lying in the bed. "I cannot hide it from you, Udom," he sighed, "even if you had no eyes to see it for yourself. Ian said Lord Elijah has been badly injured. He was kicked, I understand, by one or more of the English disguised as Pathans. He has the marks of the hob-nails all over..."
Dom flung up a hand, pleading for silence. "Not yet, Vigran! May be later - but not now. I cannot...he means all the world to me..."
"Ah!" Vigran said, in a low voice, understanding his cousin's distress. "You care for him very much, I see. That is different."
He thought for a moment. "Will you excuse me for a short while? I must see to my men; hear what they have discovered, if anything."
Dom nodded, not taking his eyes from Elijah's face.
"Do you wish me to send anyone to sit with you?" Vigran said, from the doorway.
"No, I..." He did not wish anyone there, for he was near breaking point. "Wait," he said, just as Vigran bowed. "Send Naadir the steward up with some tea, and such refreshments as are available, if you please."
"Cucumber sandwiches?" Vigran smiled slightly, hoping to make Dom smile, for he, too, had been at Cambridge.
Dom's face lightened a little. "No, cousin. Mutton, if they have any. It is many hours since I have eaten properly. I must keep up my strength, for him. It is what he would do - has already done - for me." His gaze returned to Elijah's face, and Vigran bowed himself out without another word, closing the door behind him.
Dom bent over the bed, and kissed Elijah's smooth brow. It seemed odd to him that a man so badly injured could look so much at peace. He sat back down, and holding one cold hand, saw that Elijah's fingers and nails were torn and bloodied.
So he fought back, did he, the little tiger? Dom resolved to check every last prisoner for signs of scratches. Then he would...he would...
Naadir entered carrying a tray, but did not stay once he saw the king's face. Dom hung on to the shreds of his self control until the door closed, then he placed his head on Elijah's hand, and gave himself up to sorrow.
My beautiful, gentle man! I will punish those who did this to the fullest extent of the law - my law! I will see them beg for death, before the end - no guilty man will be spared; whoever he proves to be, he shall die. I swear it, Lij, by all the gods.
Then he could not think clearly for it occurred to him right at that moment that he might lose this man, and the thought was so painful he found it hard to breathe.
*
Naadir wisely left Dom alone for an hour, and was just returning to the bedroom, when Ian, Basmin and Vigran came back indoors. They checked with the steward as to Dom’s whereabouts, and finding out he was still at Elijah’s bedside, Ian hurried upstairs.
The two cousins went into one of the salons where they could hear a great commotion. Servants were rushing about, packing up Mrs Portman's personal belongings ready for her departure for Simla. The servants gazed fearfully at the princes as if they still feared retribution.
Mrs Portman had an anxious expression on her thin face. Naadir, used to her ways, spoke quietly to her, and, with the princes permission, took a message to Dom from the lady.
"Madam wonders if you could spare her a moment of your time, Highness," he asked Dom, still sitting beside Elijah's bed. "I thought you would not wish her brought to you, here, Lord. She is presently in the study."
Dom found her sitting behind her husband's desk. She looked drained and pale, but had the good manners to stand as Dom entered, and curtseyed. "Highness," she began, then stopped, and swallowed hard. "It seems my husband has left very little cash in his safe, here, and I understand from the captain in the main offices, that there is none there. I...I have to ask..."
Dom moved forward, and took hold of her trembling hand. "I will draft a letter to the bank in Simla to advance you any sum that you will need to get home. Please feel free to take as much as is necessary. I have funds in many places."
She stared at him, uncomprehending, her plain face suffused with embarrassment. "Why are you being so kind to me? I do not deserve it, truly I don't."
She removed her hand from his, and held on to her skirts as if the flounced folds of the dove-grey silk were the only thing holding her upright.
"You have informed me, madam, that you knew nothing of your husband's doings. If that is so - and I believe you - there is no reason why I should not aid you." He smiled at her. "All I ask is that you donate any monies surplus to your needs to one of the poorhouses. Will you do that?"
She nodded. "I will, Highness. Thank you."
Dom moved to the desk, wrote the required letter, and handed it to Mrs Portman. "I hope you will be happy in Hampshire, madam. It is a beautiful spot."
He bowed over her hand, and was about to leave when she blurted out, "how is he, sir? Does he yet live?"
Dom shuddered, and it was a few moments before he could answer. "Yes, madam. But it is not at all certain whether he will... continue to do so."
Seeing the agony in his face, she came forward, and pressed a hand to his arm. "If you do not think it an imposition, sir, I will pray for him - and for you."
"Thank you," Dom managed before he left the room, pressing his back against the door for a moment, calming himself before climbing the stairs once more.
***
It was past midnight, and Ian had persuaded Dom to go to bed.
He had refused to leave the room where Elijah lay, still unconscious, so Ian said there could be no harm in him sharing the bed with his lover, if he placed a bolster between himself and the injured man, to protect Elijah from incurring further discomfort.
Dom had been heartened that he had been able to get Elijah to drink some weak lemon and barley water, made by Mrs Portman. She said, when she brought it to the room, earlier in the evening, that it would be more acceptable to a parched mouth than plain water, and so it proved.
"I will take my leave of you, now, Your Highness. I thank you for your care and concern of me, it is much appreciated. I am leaving early tomorrow morning, and I do not expect you to have risen before I leave. You must be very tired; it has been a stressful day."
Dom thought of that as he lay beside Elijah, in the large bed in the best guest-bedroom, where Elijah had been carefully taken earlier that evening. Stressful, indeed. He thought of all the things that would naturally follow, now that Duleep Singh had been apprehended. He wondered if the man would be willing to reveal who his fellow-conspirators were. He thought of Elijah, next to him, and envisioned Duleep suffering a similar fate before he died. His thoughts were not pleasant - but it was not a pleasant situation.
His reverie was interrupted by a movement beside him. Then, a short cough, then a sound
“Dom…”
He leapt out of bed, and rushed to the other side. Elijah's eyes were open. Not very focused, but open. " Thirsty," the weak voice said. At least it sounded like that word.
"Here, lemon barley water, Lij. With honey in it." He was aware he was babbling. Why would Lij care what was in it? He gently lifted Elijah's head, and the sick man drank slowly as if he had only just learned how to do so. "Been dreaming...of water," Elijah said thickly, before swallowing more.
"How did you know I was here?" Dom asked, merely to keep himself from weeping. For even in the dim light of the oil lamp, Dom could see that Elijah's face, now the bruises had come out, was black, and swollen.
"Knew you'd find me. Prayed..."
Elijah closed his eyes again suddenly. "Tired," he whispered, and fell asleep.
Dom, much heartened by this slight improvement, climbed back in beside him, and slept.
Ian was tending to Elijah when Dom woke, the slight movement in the bed nudging him awake. It seemed the process was hurting Elijah, so Dom hastily dressed, and went downstairs, to find Naadir.
It was not, he thought, whilst he was dressing in borrowed clothing after his bath, that he was a weak-minded man, but he found he did not wish to witness such stoicism in the face of pain as Elijah exhibited.
Before he had breakfast, he went to see the prisoners.
Duleep Singh, slightly injured, but whole, and well, stood when the king entered the large hall that housed the holding cells. Dom's face was white with fury.
For Duleep, there would be no escape. Dom hoped he would take his fellow conspirators with him to whichever place murderers and traitors were assigned by the gods after this life. He would find them all. He had sworn it over Elijah's senseless, wounded body, and he meant it.
"You will tell me all you know of this abduction, and the other attempted murders, or I will tear your heart out with my teeth!" Dom growled, and none of the guards, regarding him, approvingly, thought for a moment that he would not keep his word.
Duleep’s face was expressionless.
Dom spoke again. "For I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds."
For the first time, a spark of fear showed in Duleep’s eyes.
Thank you
ladysunrope for you fabulous beta talents, and thanks to all the readers who have kept pace with me. xxxxx <3Part - 18
Time passed, and still Ian and Billy worked on Elijah's unconscious form. Ian's murmured instructions to his helper went unheeded by Dom, who sat there, still holding a cold hand, his mind clouded by sorrow.
"Dom," Ian said, his voice kind. "You are in the way. We need to move Elijah, and I need to come that side, now. Go and order things - you have responsibilities. I will find you...if there is anything to report."
Dom did not look at Ian; he could not have borne the pity he knew must be in his grandfather's face. Slowly he stood, and left the room without another word. As his grandfather had said - he had his duty to perform.
At the foot of the stairs he found Hill and Smithy waiting for him. After one look at the king's face, Hill wisely did not ask after Elijah. Through the thick English oak of a door, Dom could hear a woman sobbing. Mrs Portman, he thought.
"She has her maid with her," Hill volunteered. "I didn't think she'd need guarding - after all, she's hardly the sort to go leaping on a horse, and galloping off, is she?"
Dom blinked a few times, making certain his eyes were clear, and pulled himself together. He was a king, and must behave like a king. "I will speak with her, Hill. She may know something. Where have Vigran and Basmin Singh taken the prisoners?"
The soldiers felt sorry for Dom. He looked like a man who had suffered a terrible loss. Hill hoped that the little lord was not dead.
"They're all in the cells, my lord. Every last one of them is an English deserter, would you believe? Excepting one, of course," Hill amended, contradicting himself. "A lot of rotten apples in that barrel, sir, and that's a fact. Although Portman must have hired them in from somewhere. God knows where he found them, sir, ‘cos I don't. I don't recognise any of 'em."
Dom's mind began to clear slightly. He must do what he could, both for Elijah, for his country, and for the leaderless soldiers in the garrison. He would begin with Madam Portman.
"Come with me, men. I need witnesses - English ones." Before he had had a chance to move, David Wenham came in. He saluted, and said, "all quiet and orderly, Highness. The men have all been apprised of the situation, and have been stood down. Colonel Matthew has assumed temporary command, awaiting further instructions from Commander Boyd, whom they understand is in charge now."
Dom cleared his throat. "Commander Boyd is upstairs with...with Dr McKellen, Captain. You may go up and see if he has any instructions for you. If he has not, I will be glad if you will accompany me whilst I interview Mrs Portman."
David hurried upstairs, and came down a few minutes later, rather paler of complexion than before. "He is holding his own, the doctor says," David offered, not looking at Dom for fear of the pain he'd see in his eyes. "And Commander Boyd says he will speak with the men, shortly, if they will all gather in the mess hall in about half an hour. Corporal Smithson, will you inform Colonel Masters of this, if you please? That is, if His Highness can spare you."
Dom waved Smithy away, without a word, and David and Hill followed him into the parlour.
The room was a typical English parlour, crammed with furniture and ornaments. Mrs Portman sat in an overstuffed chintz-covered chair, sobbing into a wisp of a handkerchief. The tears appeared to be genuine, and her scrawny neck was suffused with red blotches.
Her maid, plump and stalwart, stood behind the chair, her grey eyes staring dispassionately at Dom as he entered the room.
"Please to go away, sir," she said in a broad Somerset accent. "Madam is not fit to see anyone..."
She stopped as she recognised David Wenham, who came forward and stood at Dom's side. "Mrs Portman, His Highness has some questions he would like to put to you."
The woman looked up at that. "Where is my husband?" she asked, wiping her nose carefully.
"He is in a cell in my palace dungeons, madam, and will remain there until I have time to ponder what is best done with him." Dom's voice was calm, but implacable.
She spoke only one word, but Dom felt unable to answer her. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling on the word.
David cleared his throat. "He had His Excellency, the ambassador, abducted from the palace, and has kept him imprisoned, here in the cellars underneath this house."
She looked shocked; unable to speak, she sat there, trembling.
"How is his lordship? Is he...harmed?" she ventured.
This time it was Dom who spoke. "He has been beaten, madam. Kicked, punched and left for dead. How do you expect him to be?"
She sobbed. "I am sorry! I knew nothing of this, I swear. Was this why my husband's cousin was shot?" This time she glanced at Dom, then away again. It was too much to comprehend.
"He was killed, madam, because he attempted to shoot His Highness," David offered. "He would have succeeded, too, if His Highness had been a lesser horseman. Fortunately for us, he swerved, in time."
"Highness," the woman drew around herself the shreds of her dignity. "I know nothing of anything my husband did here. He never spoke to me of what he called 'important matters'. I am, as he often said, only a weak woman, after all."
Dom noticed that she referred to her husband in the past tense. Her next sentence told him why. "If Your Highness will permit it, I shall return to England. I find I have no desire to stay with such a man, or in a place where such dreadful deeds must have been plotted. May I go?"
"Do you not wish to see your husband before you leave?" Dom asked, unsure as to the woman's feelings.
She shook her head. "I presume he confessed to doing this awful thing, otherwise you would not be here." No-one answered her.
"No, I do not wish to see him. Perhaps his batman would wish to go to him, but I do not. I shall retire to my father's estates in Hampshire, where, at least, I shall be of use to him."
Dom bowed slightly, as she turned to David. "Captain, may I have an escort of soldiers as far as Simla? I can easily get a train from there."
"Do you have enough money for your journey, and later needs?" Dom inquired, in a kinder tone. "You shall be provided with funds if you have none."
Her smile was not one of humour. "My husband was very keen on gathering into his coffers as much money as he could. In fact, he often boasted about it. No doubt the next incumbent will see to it that the men are better provided for - in every way."
Dom bowed himself out of the room, where he found Naadir, the steward standing in the hall, as if waiting for him. "Highness, the chief officers have come here, before the meeting in the mess, to hear what is to be done. I have placed them in the red salon."
Billy came down the stairs before Dom could answer. "He is holding his own, sir," he said, laying a comforting hand on Dom's arm, answering the unasked question in the king's eyes. "Dr Ian said to tell you to trust Dada-ji. I don't know why you should be trusting in your late grandfather, but that's what he said. "
Dom nodded. "Thank you, Commander. Will you accompany us into the salon? Your audience awaits you."
Ten minutes later the officers of the garrison came out. Some were shaking their heads, some were smiling, but all were glad to see the back of Portman, except one colonel, who was, David said, the general's 'bosom pal'. All of the officers, excepting him, had admitting to signing a petition sent to the War Office two months previously, outlining Portman's offences, and begging that the general be removed from office.
"I'm glad you said what you did, sir, about returning the guilty to England," David said to Billy, as they went across the square, followed by the officers, to speak to the men. "Glendenning will be better off subject to the War Office in London, than remaining here. Safer, too. Feelings are running a bit high, Commander. A court martial should put things right."
The sound of a pistol shot rang through the air. "I doubt it will be necessary, now," Billy said dryly, as a few men rushed towards the source of the noise. "At least, not for him."
As they reached the door to the mess, a sergeant ran up to them, saluted, and confirmed Billy's thoughts on the matter. The colonel had shot himself rather than face eventual disgrace, thus relieving them all of another burden.
They spent some time with the men, listening to their grievances, calming their fears. "If anyone knows of anyone else - apart from the late Colonel Glendenning - who was in Portman's pocket, speak out now. You will be commended for your honesty."
After a muttered colloquy amongst the men, Hill stood, as he was appointed spokesman for them all. "If there is, Commander, we don't know of him. And all the men have taken a dekko at the pris'ners, sir, as Captain Wenham ordered, and no-one knows any of them, either."
"The gen'ral and the late colonel, now - they had nothing to do with us common men, more's the pity, not like Colonel Masters, here, and Captain Wenham. They've always got time for us. It was their loss, 'cos sometimes, you can often learn a mort of int'rest from your common man," he said, looking pointedly at Dom, who privately agreed wholeheartedly with the statement.
The meeting broke up, after the men had offered enough information on Portman's neglectful rule, which, added to the officer's revelations, were enough to court-martial him ten times over.
Billy, noticing Dom’s increasing restlessness, informed him that there were other tasks to perform that did not necessarily require his presence. Wenham said that he was happy to give whatever aid he could to the matter. It wasn’t until Hill, keen to be helpful, interpreted that they meant him to ‘head off to the little lord as quick as maybe,’ that Dom realised they were trying to help him in his dilemma. Where he wanted to be most was not compatible with his role as king, and it was hard for him to concentrate on what needed to be done. Gratefully he thanked them all, and left for the Portman residence.
He took the stairs two at a time, and found Elijah lying peacefully in the bed, with Vigran Singh watching over him. He looked up as his cousin entered, then stood and bowed.
"Where's Dada-ji?" Dom asked, sitting beside Elijah, and holding his hand once more.
"He has gone to tend Basmin's wound, and a few other men who were injured. The hospital orderlies, having been taught by the late and unlamented Dr Crowley, as I understand it, only have the most rudimentary grasp of medical matters."
He looked down at the man lying in the bed. "I cannot hide it from you, Udom," he sighed, "even if you had no eyes to see it for yourself. Ian said Lord Elijah has been badly injured. He was kicked, I understand, by one or more of the English disguised as Pathans. He has the marks of the hob-nails all over..."
Dom flung up a hand, pleading for silence. "Not yet, Vigran! May be later - but not now. I cannot...he means all the world to me..."
"Ah!" Vigran said, in a low voice, understanding his cousin's distress. "You care for him very much, I see. That is different."
He thought for a moment. "Will you excuse me for a short while? I must see to my men; hear what they have discovered, if anything."
Dom nodded, not taking his eyes from Elijah's face.
"Do you wish me to send anyone to sit with you?" Vigran said, from the doorway.
"No, I..." He did not wish anyone there, for he was near breaking point. "Wait," he said, just as Vigran bowed. "Send Naadir the steward up with some tea, and such refreshments as are available, if you please."
"Cucumber sandwiches?" Vigran smiled slightly, hoping to make Dom smile, for he, too, had been at Cambridge.
Dom's face lightened a little. "No, cousin. Mutton, if they have any. It is many hours since I have eaten properly. I must keep up my strength, for him. It is what he would do - has already done - for me." His gaze returned to Elijah's face, and Vigran bowed himself out without another word, closing the door behind him.
Dom bent over the bed, and kissed Elijah's smooth brow. It seemed odd to him that a man so badly injured could look so much at peace. He sat back down, and holding one cold hand, saw that Elijah's fingers and nails were torn and bloodied.
So he fought back, did he, the little tiger? Dom resolved to check every last prisoner for signs of scratches. Then he would...he would...
Naadir entered carrying a tray, but did not stay once he saw the king's face. Dom hung on to the shreds of his self control until the door closed, then he placed his head on Elijah's hand, and gave himself up to sorrow.
My beautiful, gentle man! I will punish those who did this to the fullest extent of the law - my law! I will see them beg for death, before the end - no guilty man will be spared; whoever he proves to be, he shall die. I swear it, Lij, by all the gods.
Then he could not think clearly for it occurred to him right at that moment that he might lose this man, and the thought was so painful he found it hard to breathe.
*
Naadir wisely left Dom alone for an hour, and was just returning to the bedroom, when Ian, Basmin and Vigran came back indoors. They checked with the steward as to Dom’s whereabouts, and finding out he was still at Elijah’s bedside, Ian hurried upstairs.
The two cousins went into one of the salons where they could hear a great commotion. Servants were rushing about, packing up Mrs Portman's personal belongings ready for her departure for Simla. The servants gazed fearfully at the princes as if they still feared retribution.
Mrs Portman had an anxious expression on her thin face. Naadir, used to her ways, spoke quietly to her, and, with the princes permission, took a message to Dom from the lady.
"Madam wonders if you could spare her a moment of your time, Highness," he asked Dom, still sitting beside Elijah's bed. "I thought you would not wish her brought to you, here, Lord. She is presently in the study."
Dom found her sitting behind her husband's desk. She looked drained and pale, but had the good manners to stand as Dom entered, and curtseyed. "Highness," she began, then stopped, and swallowed hard. "It seems my husband has left very little cash in his safe, here, and I understand from the captain in the main offices, that there is none there. I...I have to ask..."
Dom moved forward, and took hold of her trembling hand. "I will draft a letter to the bank in Simla to advance you any sum that you will need to get home. Please feel free to take as much as is necessary. I have funds in many places."
She stared at him, uncomprehending, her plain face suffused with embarrassment. "Why are you being so kind to me? I do not deserve it, truly I don't."
She removed her hand from his, and held on to her skirts as if the flounced folds of the dove-grey silk were the only thing holding her upright.
"You have informed me, madam, that you knew nothing of your husband's doings. If that is so - and I believe you - there is no reason why I should not aid you." He smiled at her. "All I ask is that you donate any monies surplus to your needs to one of the poorhouses. Will you do that?"
She nodded. "I will, Highness. Thank you."
Dom moved to the desk, wrote the required letter, and handed it to Mrs Portman. "I hope you will be happy in Hampshire, madam. It is a beautiful spot."
He bowed over her hand, and was about to leave when she blurted out, "how is he, sir? Does he yet live?"
Dom shuddered, and it was a few moments before he could answer. "Yes, madam. But it is not at all certain whether he will... continue to do so."
Seeing the agony in his face, she came forward, and pressed a hand to his arm. "If you do not think it an imposition, sir, I will pray for him - and for you."
"Thank you," Dom managed before he left the room, pressing his back against the door for a moment, calming himself before climbing the stairs once more.
***
It was past midnight, and Ian had persuaded Dom to go to bed.
He had refused to leave the room where Elijah lay, still unconscious, so Ian said there could be no harm in him sharing the bed with his lover, if he placed a bolster between himself and the injured man, to protect Elijah from incurring further discomfort.
Dom had been heartened that he had been able to get Elijah to drink some weak lemon and barley water, made by Mrs Portman. She said, when she brought it to the room, earlier in the evening, that it would be more acceptable to a parched mouth than plain water, and so it proved.
"I will take my leave of you, now, Your Highness. I thank you for your care and concern of me, it is much appreciated. I am leaving early tomorrow morning, and I do not expect you to have risen before I leave. You must be very tired; it has been a stressful day."
Dom thought of that as he lay beside Elijah, in the large bed in the best guest-bedroom, where Elijah had been carefully taken earlier that evening. Stressful, indeed. He thought of all the things that would naturally follow, now that Duleep Singh had been apprehended. He wondered if the man would be willing to reveal who his fellow-conspirators were. He thought of Elijah, next to him, and envisioned Duleep suffering a similar fate before he died. His thoughts were not pleasant - but it was not a pleasant situation.
His reverie was interrupted by a movement beside him. Then, a short cough, then a sound
“Dom…”
He leapt out of bed, and rushed to the other side. Elijah's eyes were open. Not very focused, but open. " Thirsty," the weak voice said. At least it sounded like that word.
"Here, lemon barley water, Lij. With honey in it." He was aware he was babbling. Why would Lij care what was in it? He gently lifted Elijah's head, and the sick man drank slowly as if he had only just learned how to do so. "Been dreaming...of water," Elijah said thickly, before swallowing more.
"How did you know I was here?" Dom asked, merely to keep himself from weeping. For even in the dim light of the oil lamp, Dom could see that Elijah's face, now the bruises had come out, was black, and swollen.
"Knew you'd find me. Prayed..."
Elijah closed his eyes again suddenly. "Tired," he whispered, and fell asleep.
Dom, much heartened by this slight improvement, climbed back in beside him, and slept.
Ian was tending to Elijah when Dom woke, the slight movement in the bed nudging him awake. It seemed the process was hurting Elijah, so Dom hastily dressed, and went downstairs, to find Naadir.
It was not, he thought, whilst he was dressing in borrowed clothing after his bath, that he was a weak-minded man, but he found he did not wish to witness such stoicism in the face of pain as Elijah exhibited.
Before he had breakfast, he went to see the prisoners.
Duleep Singh, slightly injured, but whole, and well, stood when the king entered the large hall that housed the holding cells. Dom's face was white with fury.
For Duleep, there would be no escape. Dom hoped he would take his fellow conspirators with him to whichever place murderers and traitors were assigned by the gods after this life. He would find them all. He had sworn it over Elijah's senseless, wounded body, and he meant it.
"You will tell me all you know of this abduction, and the other attempted murders, or I will tear your heart out with my teeth!" Dom growled, and none of the guards, regarding him, approvingly, thought for a moment that he would not keep his word.
Duleep’s face was expressionless.
Dom spoke again. "For I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds."
For the first time, a spark of fear showed in Duleep’s eyes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-12-20 10:53 pm (UTC)PHEW!!! I didn't crash your fic, you'd reposted minutes later - sighs with relief.
okay enough excitement for one night xxx
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Date: 2009-12-20 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-20 11:18 pm (UTC)I don't blame Duleep for being afraid. This gave me chills. Dom is going to be implacable now.
The scene when Elijah woke was so touching, it left me with tears in my eyes. Such a brutal beating they gave him, I hope Dom will punish them all. This chapter and the last have been harrowing to read, and I'm so eager for more. It's going to be a long wait for the next chapter.
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Date: 2009-12-20 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-21 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-21 10:30 am (UTC)Oh dear, what a lot of unwelcome excitement you had last night! *hugs*
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Date: 2009-12-22 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-21 09:40 pm (UTC)It's probably a good thing Portman did away with himself, the bastard. Now we have to see how Dom gets the truth out of Duleep. What a shame he got into this terrible plot against Dom. I'm glad our little lord is doing better, but he has a long way to go.
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Date: 2009-12-22 07:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 12:16 am (UTC)Poor Dom. He's in as much pain as Elijah. I'm so glad Lij has revived and knows that Dom found him.
I wouldn't want to be in Duleep's shoes! What Dom has in store for him is awful to contemplate. For I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds. I can hear this in Dom's voice. No wonder Duleep is finally showing some fear!
Splendid chapter, Issi. I'm glad the drama of the unformatted and disappearing fic sorted itself out! *hugs to you and LSR*
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Date: 2009-12-22 01:06 pm (UTC)I'm glad it sorted itself out on re-posting, too. Dunno what caused that. I checked the formatting. Never mind - all sorted, now! Huggles. xxxx
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Date: 2009-12-22 03:37 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2009-12-22 07:38 pm (UTC)Thankfully Elijah seems to be holding his own after that terrible beating he received, poor love!
Still wondering who is behind Duleep's treachery and looking forward to him getting his come-uppance! I'm not clever enough to have worked it out myself ;0)
Looking forward to the next chapter and to Elijah's recovery, slow though it may be... Feeling everything with Dom, poor man!
Love and huggles
XOXOXOXOXOX
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Date: 2009-12-22 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-01 03:32 pm (UTC)I can quite imagine the terror that must have gripped Duleep when he heard Udom utter those words! *shivers* That traitor had better spill the beans and soon, unless he wants a long, drawn-out farewell.
Poor Lij, so broken and beaten. How comforting for him to find Dom near when he awoke.
Great chapter, Ru. Love it!
*hugs you*
xxx
no subject
Date: 2010-01-04 10:52 pm (UTC)