The drive that circled New Fort’s hill, on the other hand, was surfaced with closely fitting paving stones. At the bottom, where the drive turned back on itself to join the main road, my red-puggareed guide went right, following a wide path that circled the hill. Halfway around, I was startled by a sudden jungle shrieking and the sight of dozens of monkeys of various shapes and sizes, leaping frantically around inside an enormous cage. The servant glanced at me with mingled apology and reassurance, and I went on, even when the roar of a lion came up nearly under my feet. The zoo, I realised: I wasn’t about to be fed to the carnivores.

A lake appeared in the distance, decorated with white birds; beyond it stretched a great field punctuated with large grey shapes. I squinted, then smiled in delight as they became moving creatures: elephants, thirty or more of them, their attention centred around bright heaps of greenery. There were even babies among the herd, indistinct, but magical even from afar.

Belatedly, I realised that my guide had stopped to wait for me, and I hurried to catch him up. As the path continued, rooftops came into view: a lot of rooftops, long low buildings arranged around six immense courtyards. This could only be the maharaja’s stables, but the complex was lavish, larger than any race-track facilities I’d seen.

“How many horses does the maharaja own?” I asked my guide.

“I believe His Highness pleasures in two hundred and twenty-five, although I am not completely certain as to the numbers. Does memsahib wish me to make precise enquiries?”

“No,” I assured him weakly. “That’s fine.”

We walked down a wide stairway and through a magnificent archway into the yard farthest from the lake. There we found nine horses saddled, five of them claimed already by their riders, all men. The maharaja saw me approaching and dropped his conversation with a young Indian Army officer named Simon Greaves, whom I had met the night before, to come and meet me.

“Miss Russell, how good you could join us.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” I told him easily.

“I didn’t ask what kind of a rider you were, so you’ll have to let me know if you’d like something less flighty.”

He had gestured to one of the servants, who tugged the reins of a glossy chestnut gelding and led him over, carrying an ornate little stool in his free hand. The horse was the tallest animal there, although I thought it scarcely fifteen and a half hands, with muscle in its hindquarters that suggested it could jump anything I might care to point it at. I ran my hands down its legs and along its back, pleased that it didn’t twitch or move away.

“Does it have any bad habits?” I asked the syce, who looked at his master before answering me.