seen to?’
‘His claws will be drawn.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean, drawn?’
‘Pulled out, Princess.’
For a second she felt faint. She clenched her hands as a sympathetic pain struck her fingernails.
‘You mean – someone will pull out all his claws?’
‘Of course. You couldn’t play with him if he had sharp claws.’
‘How? How will they do it?’
‘You need not trouble yourself—’
She raised her voice to one of command. ‘Tell me immediately how they will… draw his claws?’
‘With pliers, my lady. They will pull them out as teeth are pulled out.’
She stood up. ‘You will not do that to him. You will cut his claws instead, the way my finger and toenails are cut by my maid, straight across so they have no sharp points.’
‘He could still—’
‘There is no more to be said. He is to be mine, isn’t that so? I will say what shall be done with him.’
The young keeper bowed his head. But still, he muttered something.
‘Speak louder!’
‘I said, Princess, that you may keep him in his cage, just as he is, but if you want to let him out and play with him, you must let us protect you. He’s only a baby now, but like a cat he can already bite and scratch.’ He showed her several deep red scratches on his arm. She drew in her breath. ‘And when he grows a little bigger he may be dangerous to you unless you let us draw his claws. His fangs,’ he added boldly, ‘have already been removed.’
‘What!’ she shouted. ‘You’ve started pulling his teeth out too! How will he eat?’
‘Our concern,’ said the youth, with a touch of humour, ‘is that he shall not eat you.’
She looked back at the cub. He was looking at her again.
‘Will he try to bite me if I put my hand into his cage?’
‘No. I have handled him and gentled him. Also he’s not feeling very fierce just now because of the long journey he’s had, and the operation. Do you like him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed, gazing at the fabulous creature. Her own. Her very own. She glanced again at the scratches on the young man’s smooth, brown arm, and quailed for a moment. But then she stiffened herself. Cautiously she stretched her small hand, sideways to be narrow enough, between two bars towards the animal’s bicoloured head. Its ears moved, flattened. It growled deep in its throat. She snatched her hand out again.
The young keeper laughed. He unfastened the lid at the top of the cage and raised it. Then he reached in fearlessly and scratched the cub behind the ears. It looked up at him trustingly.
‘How can he like you and trust you when you’ve hurt him? It must have hurt terribly to have his fangs pulled out!’
‘I didn’t do it, Princess. I was the one who comforted him afterwards, rubbed oil of cloves on the wounds and gave him warm milk in a bottle to remind him of his mother.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Who knows? Far away in the jungle he came from. He won’t see her again.’ He was petting and stroking the tiger’s head, working his hand under its jaw. The cub’s eyes closed in bliss. There was a different sound from him now – a rumble of pleasure.
Aurelia stood up. ‘Oh, let me! Only I don’t want him to growl at me.’
‘He won’t. Here, take over from me. He’ll soon learn to accept you.’
The cub’s warm fur was a delight – so soft, so silky-soft, such beautiful colours, rich gold and deep, dark black. After a tentative moment, she sank her fingers into it luxuriantly and was overjoyed when the cub continued to purr like the great cat that he was. She was soon using both hands to pet and please him. Better than stroking a fish!
The keeper-boy was talking.
‘He’s a present from your father. There were two of them, twin brothers. One, the bigger and stronger of the two, has been taken to the Colosseum to be raised for the circus. This one was chosen as a special pet for you by the Emperor.’
Aurelia withdrew her hands and stood staring down at the baby tiger, who followed her now with his yellow eyes.
‘Do I have to keep him always in a cage? Because if so, I don’t want him.’
‘Well, I can take him out now, if you like. We’ll see if he behaves himself, but I don’t think he will try any tricks while I’m here.’
When she nodded breathlessly, he reached down and lifted the cub out of the cage, talking to him in a clucking, rumbling tone. He held him, positively cuddling him. Aurelia’s arms ached to hold the furry adorable thing.
‘Good boy. You’re a lucky cub. Look at your mistress! Wasn’t that worth a little pain? You’re better off than your brother!’ And he lowered him on to his big, padded feet on the marble floor, where he stood, his tail twitching from side to side.
‘Does he understand what you say to him?’
‘No. But it soothes him. You must talk to him a lot. And you must learn his language.’
‘Does he talk?’ she asked naively.
He smiled. ‘Yes, in his own way. Look at his tail, now. If it were lashing from side to side, you’d need to be careful, because that means, I am angry! I may pounce! But that twitching is just uncertainty – curiosity.’
‘No, no! Tell me exactly what he’s saying!’
‘He’s saying, I don’t know where I am or what’s happening. Reassure me. Be kind to me. Tell me I’m safe.’
‘Oh! Yes, I see!’ Aurelia, enchanted, fell on her knees and put out both her arms to the cub. ‘Come here to me! I won’t hurt you. I love you already. Come and be stroked!’ But the cub stood still and didn’t come. She looked up beseechingly at the young keeper. ‘What can I say to him to make him come?’
‘Nothing. You must offer him a gift.’
‘What? What?’
The keeper opened a basket he had on his back and took from it a small piece of raw meat.
‘Are you afraid to get your hands soiled?’
She hesitated, but only for a moment. ‘No! Give it to me!’
He handed her the meat. Before she fully had hold of it, the cub leapt forward and snatched it from her grasp, startling her so much she cried out and fell over backwards. In a moment, the young man had his hand fastened on the scruff of the cub’s neck and it shrank down. But Aurelia sat up at once and said, ‘No, he didn’t mean to frighten me. Leave him.’
The keeper obeyed. The cub lay down and began chewing on the meat. Every now and then he shook his head.
‘Why does he do that?’
‘He can’t understand why he can’t eat quite as he used to. And it may still hurt a little.’
Aurelia crept towards him.
‘No, my lady,’ warned the keeper. ‘Don’t try to touch him while he’s eating. He’ll think—’ He corrected himself. ‘Look, he’s put his ears back. He’s saying, Don’t try to take my food! When he’s satisfied his hunger he’ll remember that you gave him the meat. He may sniff the blood on your hand, and come to lick it off. Then he’ll begin to recognise you. That’s how cats are. They like you for what you give them.’
‘I want him to love me for myself.’
‘Better