HE HAS THROWN himself down on his haunches on the riverbank and looks as if he has been told he is to die tomorrow. He scoops water over his head and stares at his reflection. She wonders at him. A good young man for the most part, she has decided, but overfond of melodrama in her opinion.
‘Should I leave you to drown yourself in peace?’ Mara asks him.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I needed privacy.’
‘Why don’t you find a tree like the other fellows? Have you always been so precious?’
‘May I ask what is wrong? Has one of our tuskers died?’
‘You heard the celebration last night. Alexander gave our Elephantarch one of his harem.’
‘What a very fortunate girl.’
He tosses a stone into the muddy water with great force.
‘You wanted Nearchus for yourself?’
‘Just leave me.’
‘But that cannot be the reason you are here crying into the river. It’s not the girl, is it? But how would an Indian meet a princess?’
‘Not just an Indian. I am captain of the elephants.’
‘A grand title but you have elephant droppings under your fingernails just like the rest of us. That’s not going to get a princess in your bed.’
He gets to his feet. She can see he is thinking about thrashing her, and a crueller man would have done. Instead he says, ‘Have you ever been with a woman?’
Mara shakes her head.
‘Don’t you ever think about a girl and feel like your balls are going to explode if you don’t have her?’
‘I have never had that great pleasure.’
‘Did they do something to you? Really? You never thought about a woman until you can’t sleep and your lingam just stands up all day long. Look. You see?’
Mara does not wish to see but looks anyway. ‘Impressive.’ Is that how my husband felt about me when we were married? Did he walk around all day like that? She should like to think so, but this initiation into the rites of men is a little daunting for so early in the morning. In Carthage she might be just rising from her bed and calling the servants to prepare her a peach and a warm bath.
‘Is that how love feels to you?’
‘It’s a part of it. I suppose all you think about is boys, don’t you?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘It’s obvious. Ravi thinks you’re a dancing boy. Is it true?’
So they all think she’s a catamite. Well, that was predictable. Still, she supposes it is better for her esteem than that they think she is an out-of-work carter.
‘Why am I talking to you like this? You’re a slave and a bum jumper. What do you know of love, anyway?’
‘More than you suspect.’
‘I mean, here in the heart.’ Gajendra punches himself in the chest to reinforce the impression of strong feeling. ‘Not the false show you put on to dupe some customer out of his money.’
‘You are the one who thinks I’m a catamite. I did not say that I was! I have never given love for money nor shall I ever!’
‘What are you then, looking like that?’
It’s a question that begs an answer and clearly she does not have one. Catharo would have them think anything of her but that she is a nobleman’s daughter. ‘This I know. There is more to love than walking around with a yard of stiff rope in your belly.’
‘I cannot stop thinking about her. She is the most beautiful and mysterious creature I have ever seen.’
‘There is nothing mysterious about a woman. Women are much like you are, only a very great deal smarter.’
‘How can someone like you understand?’
‘I know what it’s like to have someone admire me for all my virtues and love me despite my worst faults. Will she do that for you? All you see is some mysterious object that you want for your own sake. But don’t call it love. It’s nothing like it!’
Gajendra is startled by his vehemence and does not know what to make of it. None of his waterboys would ever dare speak to him like this. Why is he tolerating this? But the catamite is not done yet.
Mara stands up close, so their noses almost touch. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are arrogant and self-obsessed, but the depth of your compassion far outweighs all your faults even though it shouldn’t?’
‘Then Ravi loves you. But if you’ve never had a woman say it to you then no matter how many holes you have stuck that… that thing in, then you are just like me. A cherry boy. And this Zahara whom you claim to love with such ardour? She is just a dream you have invented in your own mind.’
He turns pale. ‘It’s time to muck out the elephants,’ he says, and walks away.