In response to the enquiring look of the man, the old woman said, ‘See, this girl is from a noble family, and she and her maid have lost their way. They were in such trouble that I couldn’t bear to see their plight. I felt like she was my own daughter. Poor girl! My heart bled for them. And what horrid men these matals are. Anyway, give them a place to sit down, and let them have something to eat.’

The elderly man nodded his head as he took in the situation, and sitting down on the mattress he clapped his hands and made signs to the slave-boy, who looked up, to spread something on the floor and bring food for the visitors. The old woman sat down on the floor close to the elderly man and they began discussing something in hushed voices.

A little later the boy came back carrying a rolled-up mat under his arm, and a wooden bowl in his hand. Dhata took the mat from the boy and spread it on the floor. When Divya had sat down, Dhata took a seat on the bare floor near her, but Divya pulled her onto the mat and snuggled close to her. The boy put the bowl, full of roasted grain before them. Pushing the pot away with the back of her hand, Dhata told the boy to bring some water.

Although the elderly man was still engrossed in conversation with the old woman, Dhata’s voice drew his attention. He again made a sign to the boy, who then went out through the door opening into the inner courtyard but soon returned, followed by a young woman.

The young woman was pretty, with a fair complexion, wide dark eyes, and a lively and confident countenance. She must have been of the same age as Divya. She wore gold ornaments round her neck and on her arms, and was wrapped in a warm shawl. With a sidelong glance at Dhata and Divya, she looked at the elderly man.

To her he uttered a few words in some dialect, unknown to Divya and Dhata, and then reverted to familiar speech and said, ‘Anjana, this noble lady and her maidservant are our guests. Bring something for them to eat.’

The young woman nodded and withdrew, casting another meaningful glance at the visitors. She returned shortly after, with the boy carrying a bronze vessel in one hand and in the other a flagon of wine and cups.

‘Lady,’ she said, placing the dishes before Divya, ‘this is all that we have in the house at the moment. Pray, partake of it. It will refresh you.’

Divya expressed her unwillingness to eat, at which Dhata again asked for some water. At a sign from the young woman, the boy brought water in a copper pot. Not being used to drinking from pots, Divya held the heavy vessel to her lips with some difficulty and took a few gulps. The cold water sent a shiver through her body.