Borthwick didn’t answer.
With a pang of relief, Neil returned his attention to the manuscript.As he hadn’t the foggiest idea what else to write, he decided to simply transcribe it, copying the Brahmi lines onto the notepaper.
“Most scholars I’ve met argue that India is complicated.”Borthwick spoke as though he and Neil were already halfway into a conversation.“They point to the proliferation of princely states.The diversity of languages, faiths, and ritual practices.I’ve heard one scholar say that India shouldn’t be considered a country at all—that Kashmir has as much in common with Tamil Nadu as France does with Serbia.”
Neil was conscious of Constance standing in the corner behind him, all but invisible as far as Borthwick was concerned.With a burst of indignation, he set down his pen.“Surely there are overarching elements of culture and identity that bring the people of the different provinces together.”
Borthwick turned to look at him, his mouth curving into a narrowly amused smile.“Like what?”
Neil could see Constance’s glare in the corner of his eye, warning him to keep his mouth shut—but he couldn’t.His own anger was still too close to the surface, primed by what he’d witnessed back at the club.“The Ramayana, for instance.”
“The Ramayana,” Borthwick echoed thoughtfully.“A prince in exile loses his wife to a demon king.Sets out on a heroic journey to retrieve her.But that’s only a devotional story for the Hindu portion of the population.”
“It’s not a religious text for Indian Muslims, but they might still value it as part of their history,” Neil retorted.
At Borthwick’s thoughtful look, Neil’s throat tightened.He forced his attention back to the manuscript, scribbling a few English words over the Brahmi characters he had painstakingly inscribed.Coveted… godly… Nominative case?
The annotations were all nonsense, but at least if Borthwick came over to look, it would seem as though Neil was doing what he ought to be.
Possible reference to the Laws of Manu,he wrote between another copied line of text, recalling a tidbit from his Sanskrit class.
“I’ll tell you what I think keeps India together,” Borthwick continued after a moment, startling Neil into scraping his pen against the paper.“More than any fairy tale.”
Neil paused, looking up.
Borthwick’s steel gaze bored into him.“We do.It’s the British Empire that stops India from devolving into a chaos of warring factions.Of course, it will take more than a few rail lines and telegraph wires to truly modernize the country—and the irony is that so many Indians are determined to thwart the influence of civilization every way they can.”
Neil’s grip on the pen tightened.
“The princely states are hardly any better,” Borthwick continued as though Neil were still participating in the conversation.“They present themselves as a bridge between the old orders and the modernity and prosperity of the empire, but most of them are secretly funding the revolutionaries among the hill tribes.Oh, they’re clever enough about it—they know perfectly well that if they’re ever caught, it would mean the confiscation of their estates and the loss of even the shallow illusion of independence they currently maintain.But it isn’t that hard to see, once you know where to look for it.”
Neil found himself thinking of the moment of tension between Constance’s Uncle Vijay and his solicitor earlier that morning.
One does not survive as an autonomous state in a land ruled by a British imperial viceroy without constant vigilance.
“What do you make of it, then?”
Borthwick’s voice came from far closer by.Neil startled as he realized that the colonel now stood right in front of the desk.
“Sorry?”Neil started to sweat.
“The manuscript,” Borthwick elaborated smoothly.
Neil scrambled, words spilling out of his mouth.“It’s written on pressed birch bark—I believe the local term for it is bhojpatra.I would estimate that it dates to the late sixteenth century.The text is in Devanagari, except for this final page, which looks to be in Brahmi.”
Borthwick’s interest sharpened.“You figured that out faster than the other one.”
The other one.
The words echoed threateningly through Neil’s brain.
He could feel the potential before him for a leap of intuition—one that would either help him secure Borthwick’s trust or completely bollocks things up.
We know far more than we ought to.
“Do you mean Professor Dawson?”Neil asked carefully.
“Is there someone else I should have been expecting?”Borthwick returned dryly.
