Anak Agung Nura smiled and said, ‘It seems to me that your fate has been decided by the gods you so wisely invoked – it is evident that you are destined to stay at my father’s palace . . . Come, I shall introduce you to my father. He is an even greater fatalist than I.’

He took my arm, led me to the verandah, where his father was seated with his nobles. The Rajah’s sweet old face wrinkled up in smiles as he heard his son tell him the story of my defiance of the Dutch officials; and the nobles laughed heartily. After Anak Agung Nura had finished the story of my adventure, the old Rajah studied me thoughtfully. After a few moments, he said, ‘What is written in stars must be. I think that you did not come to my puri by chance. I bid you welcome, daughter.’

Grace put the book down for a minute as she thought about her own trip to Bali. She wasn’t sure the gods had brought her there, and smiled at the idea, but she did know that this was exactly where she was meant to be at this time. She picked it up again.

I could not provoke the gods. The Rajah’s offer must be accepted. I must stay at the palace as a daughter.

The Rajah’s broad smile needed no translating. His speech was always translated by his son.

‘Now I have three daughters and one son.’ The old man spoke so gaily that I was inclined to think the entire matter had turned to jest. But then his tone turned serious. ‘We shall call you K’tut, which is Balinese for fourth-born child. Soon I shall summon the high priest and, after the custom of our ancestors, we shall give you another name, which will be the name of your destiny.’

A month later I found myself playing the star role in a ceremony, part medieval and part pagan, in which the name K’tut Tantri was bestowed upon me. I have kept the name ever since.

During the next month I learned a great deal – language, customs, and – more than anything – a wholehearted acceptance of a way of life which was alien to me. It was, I do believe, my destiny. How, otherwise, could I so soon have regarded the palace as my rightful home? Agung Nura, with his European training, was responsible for gently introducing me into it. He never let me see too much at once. In the evenings Nura himself taught me to read and write in ‘high Balinese’. I became steeped in the history of the country and in the works of the writers and philosophers.

Grace read on, knowing she should get some sleep, but she had to find out how K’tut fitted into her adopted home.