A SILENCE THAT WAS GOLDEN.
Although she would not for the world have allowed either Rahah or
Khadija to discover the fact, Georgia was conscious of a distinct
sense of shrinking as she rode under the gateway of Bir-ul-Malikat,
after seeing Abd-ur-Rahim start on his homeward journey with young
Yakub among his followers. The place was less of a fortress, and more
of a country seat, than Bir-ul-Malik; but the high walls which
surrounded the grounds of the great house, and about which a number of
smaller buildings and huts were clustered, were quite capable of
defence, and the assemblage of men visible about the gate and
courtyard showed that a respectable garrison could be collected in
time of need. Still, the fortifications were not of such a character
as to be able to stand a protracted siege, and Georgia guessed what
was indeed the truth, that while they were useful to withstand the
sudden raid of any marauding border tribe, who might be supposed to be
swayed by the hope of plunder more strongly than by superstitious
fear, the real bulwark of the place was Khadija’s reputation as a
sorceress. Here she was supreme, and her fame protected alike her
precious charge and the servants and labourers who formed the little
colony. When she had once for all secured the transference of Jahan
Beg’s rights in Bir-ul-Malik to her master, by diverting the
water-supply, she had removed from her path the only enemy on whom the
universal belief in her supernatural power for ill had no effect, and
who had been able to keep an eye on her doings. Every man and woman in
the place was bound to Khadija’s service both by interest and by fear,
and Georgia felt that it was indeed well that Abd-ur-Rahim had
insisted on receiving her son as a hostage before he would intrust his
prisoners to her tender mercies.
Dismounting from their steeds in the inner courtyard of the great
house, where a number of slave-girls were gathered to stare at them,
the new arrivals were led by Khadija into the rooms which she had
promised them, and which, as Georgia was delighted to find, looked out
on the desert in the direction of Bir-ul-Malik. After a short interval
to allow them to arrange their possessions and to remove a little of
the sand of travel, the old woman came to fetch them, and led them
through the rambling, half-deserted house to the opposite wing.
Everything in the rooms through which they were conducted spoke of
vanished wealth and a gorgeous past. The divans were covered with rich
silks, now faded, torn, and dirty, and costly ornaments of European
manufacture stood broken and tarnished in corners. It was evident that
Fath-ud-Din’s ambitious plans for his daughter’s future had not
impelled him to keep her present abode even in tolerable repair, while
it was not difficult to discern that Khadija cherished a strong
preference for muddle and dirt over cleanliness and order. The state
of the passages and of the bedrooms opening from them was
extraordinary--they seemed to be filled both with the dust and with
the rags of ages; while in the innermost room of all, and therefore
the one with the smallest allowance of air and light, was to be found
the jewel enshrined in this sorry casket, Fath-ud-Din’s daughter
Zeynab, the destined bride of Antar Khan.
“This is my Rose of the World, O doctor lady,” said Khadija, when she
had led Georgia into the dark close room, and as she spoke she
indicated a small form crouched among a heap of cushions on a broken
bedstead. It was so dark that there was no possibility of seeing
anything distinctly.
“Get up on that chest, Rahah, and open the lattice a little way,” said
Georgia; and as the girl, with a vigorous wrench, forced open the
small high window, which moved so stiffly that it was evident it had
not been touched for years, the light disclosed a very white little
Rose indeed, with a face drawn with pain, and grimed and blistered
with crying. The child (she could not have been more than ten) was
lying in an uncomfortable cramped position, with the injured foot
fastened down to one of the legs of the bedstead. This was Khadija’s
latest idea of the way to reduce a swelling. Before saying anything,
Georgia stooped and cut the cord, replacing the foot gently on the
cushions, but the slight movement drew an uneasy little cry from the
patient.
“Who are these people?” she demanded fretfully of Khadija, trying to
arrange the folds of the dirty wrapper she was wearing into some
semblance of dignity. “I do not want visitors when I cannot put on my
best clothes. Why hast thou brought these women here, O my nurse? Who
are they, I say?” sharply.
“It is the great doctor lady, who will cure thy foot, my dove,”
replied Khadija, somewhat shamefacedly.
“The Englishwoman?” exclaimed the child, starting up and glaring at
Georgia with eyes like those of a hunted stag. Then, sinking down
again, she burst into a storm of angry sobs, striking Khadija
passionately when she tried to calm her. It was useless for Georgia to
speak, and equally useless for the old woman to entreat her Rose, her
dove, her eyes, her soul, her Queen Zeynab, to be quiet and let the
doctor lady look at her foot. The sobs continued with unabated
violence, mingled with torrents of vituperation directed at Khadija,
and the child fought like a wild cat when any one attempted to touch
her.
“Leave her alone,” said Georgia, with an imperative gesture, to
Khadija; “come here, and let her have her cry out. Now tell me what
you have been saying to her to make her afraid of me.”
“Nothing, O doctor lady--nothing, in the name of God! It is only that
the maiden fears the face of strangers.”
“That would not account for her terror on finding out who I was.
Speak, Khadija, and tell the truth, or I leave the house at once.”
Terror-stricken by the threat, the old woman mumbled out an
explanation, which Rahah translated to her mistress.
“She says, O my lady, that since she heard you were at Bir-ul-Malik
she has frightened the child with your name. When she was going to try
a new medicine, or to hurt her at all, she would say, ‘If you cry or
struggle, I will send for the cruel English doctor lady, who will cut
off your foot in little pieces,’ and the child was quiet at once.”
“That is quite enough,” said Georgia, observing that Zeynab, guessing
that the rest were talking about her, had hushed her sobs in order to
try to hear what they were saying, and she returned to the side of the
bed. The sobs began again at once, but Georgia laid a firm hand on the
child’s shoulder and signed to Rahah to interpret for her.
“When you have quite finished crying, Zeynab, you can let me know, and
I will show you something I have got here.”
The sobs continued for a minute or two with equal violence, but
presently they slackened a little, and Zeynab inquired brokenly, “What
kind of thing is it?”
“Something you will like to see,” said Georgia; and Rahah added on her
own account as she translated the words: “The doctor lady says so, and
the English always tell the truth.”
“Do they?” asked Zeynab, with interest. “I thought they were very bad
people.” She had ceased to sob, but was too proud to ask for the sight
she had been promised, and Georgia took something out of her bag, and
waited. More from habit than from any expectation of making use of it,
she had slipped in with her instruments a German toy which she had
found very useful in winning the friendship of children in her old
hospital days, and which had proved a source of great delight to Nur
Jahan and the other women in the Palace at Kubbet-ul-Haj. It was
carved in wood, and represented a cock standing on a barrel. The
barrel contained a yard-measure, and when the tape was drawn out the
bird flapped his wings, faster or slower according to the rapidity of
the movement.
“What is it?” inquired Zeynab at last, looking curiously at the cock,
her interest stimulated by the doctor’s silence. For answer, Georgia
pulled out the tape, and the child gave a shriek of wild delight.
“Wonderful, wonderful!” she cried. “Is it alive?”
Rahah explained that the bird was merely one of the marvels of the
white people, and Zeynab, after a somewhat timid approach, ventured to
pull the tape for herself. Then she was fairly won, and screamed with
pleasure as the cock flapped his wings for her. Not to make the wonder
too cheap, Georgia reclaimed it after a short time; but the ice was
broken. Zeynab lay back on her cushions and looked at her musingly.
“Art thou really a woman?” she asked at last.
“Yes. What else could I be?” asked Georgia, smiling.
“I thought thou wert perhaps a man,” said the child, shyly; and
Georgia felt devoutly thankful that Dick was not there to hear her.
“Shall I tell thee why, O doctor lady?” she went on, then turned
suddenly to Khadija. “O my nurse, I am thirsty. Bring me some
sherbet.”
“One of the slaves shall prepare it for thee, my soul.”
“No, there is no one who makes it as thou dost. Fetch it for me, O my
nurse, or I shall scream.”
With a very bad grace Khadija complied with the imperious command, and
hobbled out of the room. The moment she was gone, Zeynab took a folded
piece of paper from beneath her pillow and laid it in Georgia’s hand.
“There!” she said, with a radiant smile. Georgia unfolded the paper,
and found it to contain a wretched native print, vile alike in
drawing, colour, and intention, and purporting to represent an English
ball-room. Some resemblance between the open coat and cotton blouse
which Georgia wore with her riding-skirt, and a man’s dress-coat and
shirt-front, had struck the child, and led her to the conclusion that
Georgia was a man.
“I see what you mean,” said Georgia, whose one glance at the print had
filled her with loathing; “but, Zeynab, this is not a very pretty
picture for you to have. If you will give it to me, I will find you a
book with several pictures in it instead.”
“Give me the book first,” was the prudent answer, as Zeynab reclaimed
her treasure jealously. “This is all I have. What are thy pictures
like, O doctor lady?”
“There is one of the Queen of England and many of her family,” said
Georgia, thinking of some odd numbers of illustrated papers which had
thus far survived wonderfully the various vicissitudes of the Mission.
“I might even find you two or three books if you will be good and let
me look at your foot.”
“Oh, my foot!” Zeynab’s face was pursed up once more in readiness to
cry. “It hurts so dreadfully, and Khadija said thou wouldst cut it
off.”
“Not if I can possibly help it, I promise you. Will you be a brave
girl, and let me look at it quietly? I don’t mind your crying out if I
hurt you very much; but you must not struggle, and I will be as gentle
as I can.”
“But why should I be hurt? I am Queen Zeynab.”
“Because I must hurt you a little now if you are to get well
afterwards. If you are queen here, show it by being braver than any
one else would be. I am treating you like a grown-up person, Zeynab,
not like a baby.”
“It is well,” said Zeynab, with a frightened little smile. “Thou wilt
not cut my foot off bit by bit?”
“Certainly not. If I should have to cut it off, I will give you
something to prevent your feeling it at all, so that you won’t even
know that it is being done; but I hope it will not be necessary. Now
let me see it.”
With great bravery the child allowed her foot to be disencumbered of
the mass of dirty rags in which it was enveloped, and lay still with
compressed lips while Georgia made her examination. The theory which
the doctor had formed on hearing Khadija’s report she saw at once to
be the correct one. The splintered bone was accountable for the
swelling, and would have induced mortification if it had remained much
longer in the wound. The foot was in a frightful state, but there was
still just a possibility of operating with success. The operation must
be undertaken at once, Georgia decided, if the limb was to be saved,
and she turned to Rahah to tell her to get out the necessary
anæsthetic. The movement, slight as it was, gave a jerk to the
rickety bedstead, which communicated itself to the wounded foot, and
forced a moan of pain from the child’s lips. Almost simultaneously
with the sound, Khadija precipitated herself into the room with a
suddenness which suggested that she must have been listening at the
door, and seizing Georgia by the shoulders, thrust her violently away
from the bed and to the other side of the little room.
“What art thou doing to my child?” she demanded, standing between the
doctor and Zeynab, who was sobbing and wailing with the pain of the
rough jar which the impetuous onslaught had caused to her foot.
“Answer me, O doctor lady! I sent for thee to cure her, and wouldst
thou torment her when I am not by?”
“It is thou who art hurting me, O my nurse,” moaned Zeynab. “The
doctor lady did but shake me a little, but thou hast killed me. Go
away, and let the doctor lady do what she likes.”
“What! has the doctor lady bewitched thy heart away from me already?”
cried the old woman, turning upon her. “Ah, wicked girl, what hast
thou there?” and she pounced upon the vile daub which was as good as a
whole art gallery to Zeynab, and tore it to pieces. “Have I not
forbidden thee to see or hear anything of the evil doings of the
wicked white people?”
“I hate thee!” screamed Zeynab, flinging herself upon her nurse, and
attacking her with all her might. “The white people are good, and thou
hast torn my picture. I love the doctor lady, but thou art a pig!”
“Hush, Zeynab, you will make your foot worse,” said Georgia,
interposing between Khadija and her charge. “I am going to give you
something that will keep you from feeling pain, and then I hope I
shall be able to do you some good.”
“Nay,” cried Khadija; “wouldst thou steal away the child’s soul under
pretence of saving her pain? I know thee, O doctor lady, and thou
shalt never shut up my Zeynab’s soul in a bottle with snakes and
devils and unclean animals. I have heard of thy doings, and of the
demons thou hast to serve thee, and how thou dost steal souls that
thou mayest make them work evil at thy will. Thou shalt not charm my
Zeynab’s soul away to imprison it with them.”
But it only needed this to determine Zeynab immediately in favour of
the anæsthetic.
“Shut up my soul in a bottle?” she exclaimed, with eager interest.
“But thou wilt not keep it there always, O doctor lady? I should like
it for a little while, but not for long.”
“I couldn’t put your soul in a bottle if I wanted it there,” said
Georgia, laughing; “but I promise you that I won’t keep you without it
longer than I can help.”
“I tell thee thou shalt not use thy vile drugs on the maiden,”
declared Khadija stoutly, as Rahah began to get out the necessary
implements.
“Then how am I to perform the operation?” asked Georgia.
“I will call two of the slave-women, and they shall hold the child
quiet.”
“O doctor lady, thou wilt not let her bring them to hold me down?”
entreated Zeynab piteously. “They hurt so dreadfully.”
“Certainly not. I am in charge of this case, Khadija, and I refuse to
undertake the operation unless the patient is put under chloroform. If
she struggled, frightful harm might be done.”
“At least I shall be here to wake her if I see that thou art taking
away her soul.”
“If you do, I shall have to chloroform you too. No, if you stay in the
room, you will not move unless I tell you to do anything. Otherwise I
must send you away.”
Khadija was vanquished. With a grunt she wrapped her head in her veil,
and sat down on the floor at the head of the bed, while Georgia and
Rahah proceeded with their preparations, the carved chest in which
Zeynab’s best clothes were kept serving as an impromptu
operating-table. The poor little patient grew paler and paler as she
caught sight of one horror after another, for she insisted on raising
herself on her elbow to look at everything, and demanded that Rahah
should show her the instruments one by one. Georgia put a stop to this
at once, but the child’s terror was already so extreme that nothing
but the determination not to allow Khadija to triumph kept her from
entreating the doctor lady to postpone the operation. She looked up
with a pitiful smile when the chloroform was about to be administered,
and seemed almost ready to beg for a respite; but Khadija was leaning
forward and scanning her face keenly, on the alert to take advantage
of the slightest willingness to yield, and she said with a little
gasp--
“O doctor lady, I am not frightened. Go on, O girl.”
But when the chloroform had taken effect, and Rahah moved aside a
little to enable Georgia to reach the patient more easily, Khadija
caught a glimpse of her charge and sprang up.
“Thou hast killed her, O doctor lady! Alas, my Rose of the World, that
thy Khadija should have given thee into the hands of the infidel!” and
she was about to shake the child violently, in the hope of restoring
her to consciousness; but Georgia’s patience was at an end.
“Take her out,” she said sharply to Rahah, to the intense delight of
the handmaiden; and before Khadija realised what was happening to her,
she was outside the door, and the door was bolted on the inside, while
Rahah assured her emphatically through the crack that the child was
alive, and would remain so if she would only keep quiet, but that if
she made any noise or disturbance the worst results might confidently
be expected to ensue. Terrified by the realisation of the fact that
her darling was now absolutely in the power of the strangers, Khadija
crouched silently at the door and made no sign, while in the respite
afforded by her exclusion from the room, Georgia, with Rahah’s
assistance, performed her task speedily and successfully. The splinter
was extracted and the broken bone set, after which the wound was
carefully dressed, with the aid of appliances such as had never been
seen in Ethiopia before, and Rahah contemplated the result with pride.
“Regular hospital treatment!” she said, adopting the words she had
once heard Dr Headlam use to Georgia with reference to a case of his
own, and then turned her attention to making as comfortable a bed as
possible out of the coverlets and cushions scattered about, that the
patient might not return to consciousness on the wretched bedstead she
had occupied hitherto. When everything was finished the door was
opened and Khadija again admitted. She came in suspiciously, and
looked askance at all she saw; but, on finding that Zeynab was
sleeping quietly, sat down beside her without uttering a word.
The operation once successfully completed, Georgia and Rahah settled
down to an extremely monotonous mode of life for several days. Their
sole interest and excitement was caused by the improvement or relapses
of the patient, and by the necessity of keeping an eye on Khadija. Not
only was it extremely likely that the old woman would try to poison
them, but she also cherished a lively distrust of Georgia’s dressings,
and there was a constant risk that in a frenzy of rage she might tear
them off, and even interfere with the wound itself, in which case poor
Zeynab would have been worse off than before. But as the days passed
on and Zeynab continued to make progress, the old woman began to
believe once more in the possibility of her charge’s regaining perfect
health. The little face which had been so pinched and pain-lined began
to recover its bloom, and Georgia found it possible to believe in the
loveliness the report of which had spread even to Kubbet-ul-Haj, and
which had earned for Zeynab her pet-name of Rose of the World. Warm
water and the gift of a piece of the doctor lady’s soap were powerful
inducements to the child to keep her face clean, and the consequent
improvement in her appearance surprised no one more than Khadija. Her
wild outbreaks of wrath ceased gradually as Zeynab’s eyes grew
brighter and her cheeks less thin, and her manner to Georgia became
markedly gracious. But this did not lead to any slackening of the
precautions observed by the visitors, for they knew that their danger
was considerably increased by the fact that they had performed their
part of the bargain, whereas Khadija had not as yet discharged hers.
Every day Rahah cooked their food over a spirit-lamp and drew from the
well the water they needed, while Ibrahim also was provided for out of
the stores they had brought with them. For the hours of darkness,
moreover, Rahah patented a scheme of defence of which the idea was
entirely her own. Before leaving Bir-ul-Malik, she had begged from
Ismail Bakhsh a box of tin-tacks, and every night she strewed these
upon the floor, with the points upwards. Georgia remarked that if the
house should catch fire, and Rahah and she found it necessary to
escape hurriedly, they themselves would be the first to suffer; but
Rahah was not deterred from adopting her plan by this consideration.
She had also possessed herself of a whistle, with which it was her
intention to summon Ibrahim from his slumbers to the rescue, in case
of an attack in force; and she explained this to him very clearly,
only to discover that the idea of entering the harem, even on an
errand of such urgency, appalled him almost more than the prospect
that murder would be done if he stayed outside.
“But I have found out something else from Ibrahim, O my lady,” said
Rahah, when describing the result of the interview to her mistress. “I
know why it is that Khadija hates the name of Sinjāj Kīlin, your
father. He it was who attacked her village, and whose soldiers killed
her husband and son, and she has been thirsting for vengeance ever
since. That is why I think we are not safe here for a moment, for in
revenging herself upon you she would obtain her heart’s desire.”
But Georgia turned a deaf ear to the suggestion that she should leave
her patient before her recovery was assured, although it was repeated
in Fitz’s first heliographic message on the morning after her arrival.
He appeared to be in a conversational mood.
“Stratford was like a dozen wild cats last night when he found you
were not coming back just yet. He is afraid North will skin him alive
when he turns up again. Lady Haigh is awfully unhappy about you. She
says she is certain you are in great danger, and begs you to come back
at once, and not to mind about the medicine.”
In answer to this, Georgia flashed back by slow degrees:
“We are quite well and safe. Operation successfully performed, but I
must stay here a few days to look after patient.”
To this determination she continued to adhere firmly, notwithstanding
the agonised entreaties to return which Fitz transmitted to her every
day from Lady Haigh. He kept her informed of Sir Dugald’s condition,
and she directed any slight changes of treatment she thought
advisable, but consent to come back without the antidote she would
not, in spite of the alarms of her present position. For the knowledge
of these she was in large measure indebted to Ibrahim, who, for a
professed fatalist, took an extraordinary delight in prophesying evil,
and communicated all his anticipations of danger most faithfully to
Rahah. Consequently, when Rahah came running back in much excitement
one evening, after taking Ibrahim his supper, her mistress was not
affected by her news to the extent she had expected.
“O my lady, Ibrahim says he is sure some evil is going to happen.
Several messengers have come in during the day, bringing news to
Khadija, and he is certain that one of them was from Kubbet-ul-Haj.
And Khadija has been going round among the men here, stirring them up
against the English, and they have all got out their weapons, and they
are cleaning their muskets and sharpening their swords. Ibrahim knows
that they must be going to kill us to-morrow--at least he says so; but
I bade him tell the men of the vengeance the English would take on
them if any ill befell us, and of the great power and hunger for war
of the Major Sahib, and how he was going to marry you. I said it very
loud, so that Khadija might hear, for she was not far off, but she
only laughed.”
“She was probably amused by your suspicions of her,” said Georgia,
absently. The fact that she had been able this evening to alter the
dressings on Zeynab’s foot, and allow the wound to close, was much
more interesting to her at the moment than Ibrahim’s suspicions. If
all continued to go on as well as it had done hitherto, she ought to
be able to return in triumph to Bir-ul-Malik in a day or two with the
all-important antidote.
Rahah shook her head over her mistress’s lack of interest in her great
news, and watched jealously for an opportunity of proving that her own
excitement had been justified. She found one the very next day, and
immediately rushed into Georgia’s room once more with her veil flying
behind her.
“O my lady, there is really something wrong! Ibrahim is gone--at
least, I cannot find him--and when I asked the men where he was, they
only laughed at me and reviled me. And there are watchmen upon the
towers, making signs to one another, and all the men and boys are
gathered together with their weapons in their hands, and the women and
children are sharpening knives and talking of plunder. What shall we
do?”
“We can’t do anything, except keep quiet and show no fear,” said
Georgia. “I don’t think they would have needed so much stirring up to
attack two women, Rahah. No doubt they are not thinking of us at all.
Very likely they know that some of the wild tribes intend to attack
the place, and they are preparing to defend it. Perhaps Ibrahim is
helping them down at the gate. Whatever you do, don’t look
frightened.”
“Frightened!” said Rahah, with high scorn, and sat down in the corner
to polish Georgia’s instruments. A little later Khadija entered, and
asked Rahah to go and sit beside Zeynab and amuse her, since she
seemed restless, and she herself was anxious to take the doctor lady
into the garden and point out to her some of its beauties. Rahah
looked appealingly at her mistress, entreating her mutely not to
accept the invitation, but Georgia was firm in the principles she had
just enunciated. Any show of fear or suspicion would only serve to
irritate Khadija and put her on her guard; and moreover, if her
purposes were evil, she could carry them into execution as well in the
house as out of doors. Her decision seemed to be justified by the old
woman’s behaviour, for she hobbled along beside her, talking as
pleasantly as an ingrained habit of snappishness would permit her, and
appeared anxious to exhibit the different nooks and arbours which
formed the chief attraction of the garden. Georgia could not
understand nearly all she said, but an emphatic word now and then,
eked out by signs, gave her some idea when admiration was expected of
her, and the walk was marred by no difference of opinion.
Passing through the garden, they came at last to one of the
watch-towers of which Rahah had spoken, perched upon the crest of the
hill, and overlooking the great gateway and the paved court,
containing the famous well and surrounded by stables and other
outbuildings, into which the gate opened. Khadija proposed that they
should ascend the tower and look at the view, and Georgia acquiesced
at once in the suggestion. To her surprise, the summit was occupied by
several men armed to the teeth, in addition to the watchman; but these
made way without a word for the two women, and they stood looking out
on the desert. The view thus obtained was a very wide one, and Georgia
noticed at once a distant cloud of dust, which appeared to be nearing
the place. Khadija’s eyes were also fixed upon this cloud, and Georgia
concluded that it must denote the approach of the invading band
against whom the warlike preparations were being made.
For some time those on the top of the tower stood watching the
dust-cloud without uttering a word. As it came nearer, there were
occasional glimpses of moving men and animals and the momentary flash
of steel, and Georgia felt that the men behind her were pressing
closer and fairly panting with excitement.
“O doctor lady,” said Khadija, “thou seest these horsemen. Knowest
thou who they are?”
“They ride in order. No doubt they are soldiers.”
“Is that all? Look again, O doctor lady.”
[image: images/img_11.jpg
caption: “Look again, O doctor lady.”]
“They wear turbans--some of them, at least. They have lances with
pennons. They seem to be in uniform. It is dark, like the uniform of
the Khemistan Horse. They are the Khemistan Horse!”
“Look again, O doctor lady!”
Georgia looked. The cloud of dust had become much less opaque as it
approached, and the forms of the mounted men could be clearly
discerned. There were two or three officers among them, and Georgia’s
gaze was riveted on the foremost. From the moment in which she had
obtained her first glimpse of him through the flying dust, it had
seemed to her that there was something familiar in his appearance; and
now, as she bent over the parapet and shaded her eyes with her hand,
she knew that she had not been mistaken. It was Dick, leaning forward
on his horse, as though from utter weariness, and looking neither to
right nor left as he rode.
“Thou seest now, O doctor lady?” asked Khadija.
“Yes, I see; but what of that?”
“Only this--and this.” Khadija’s bony finger pointed first to a spot
some distance in advance of the little British column, where the track
wound through rocky ground, with sand-cliffs of some height rising on
either side--the dry bed of a winter torrent, probably--then to the
force as it marched. “All the men of Bir-ul-Malikat in ambush there, O
doctor lady, and here the English riding into the ambuscade without
knowing of it.”
“But why have you brought me here?” asked Georgia.
Khadija understood the tone of the question, though not its words.
“To see what happens, O doctor lady. Not to warn thy friends--oh no!
One cry--one sign of warning--and thou diest. Thou seest these men
here. Their daggers are ready, and they fear not to use them.”
Georgia stood looking over the parapet, with both hands gripping its
rough edge. The situation was quite clear to her without the aid of
Khadija’s words, which she understood only partially, and there was no
doubt in her mind as to the course to be taken. Behind were the
daggers of the fanatics, who were Khadija’s willing tools--in front,
Dick and his comrades, riding unconscious to their doom. Of course she
would warn them. They were almost abreast of the tower now, as she
stood with beating heart making her hurried calculation. The warning
must necessarily be the work of a moment, for there would be no more
time allowed her. One moment to tear off her _burka_ and wave it
wildly as a signal, and to shriek “Dick! ambush!” using her hands as a
speaking-trumpet. She knew the extraordinary distance to which voices
are carried by the dry desert air, and she had no fear as to his
hearing her.
But as she stood waiting for the critical moment, with her hands
already raised to fling off the _burka_, a sudden disturbing thought
came to her. Why had Khadija brought her to that spot at that moment,
when she must know her well enough by this time to be sure that she
would at least make an attempt to warn the column of its danger? Was
it not possible that for some reason or other she wished her to give
the alarm? It was an awful moment, but Georgia’s whole training had
been such as to inculcate presence of mind and prompt decision in
emergencies. Just as the British force reached the point at which she
had determined that her warning should be given, she turned her back
deliberately on the desert, and, sitting down on the parapet, buried
her face in her hands.
“Ah, the doctor lady is _prudent_!” said Khadija, in a low snarl of
intense rage. But Georgia scarcely heard her. She was praying as she
had never prayed before, and at the same time listening intently for
any sound of conflict. For, after all, she might have decided wrongly.
At last she could bear the uncertainty no longer, and looked round.
The dreaded _nullah_ had been reached, and the troops were passing
through it without opposition, two or three dismounted men scrambling
along the brink on either side as scouts. There was no ambuscade
there, at all events. Almost before she had had time to realise the
full significance of this, the gleam of a weapon in the courtyard
below her caught her attention, and she became aware that the
outbuildings around it were filled with armed men crouching low, while
the gate was standing partially open. There had been a trap laid here,
that was evident, for a low growl of concentrated anger rose to her
ears, as the liers-in-wait began to perceive that the prey had escaped
them. Then the sound was echoed by the men on the tower, as they drew
their daggers and turned towards Georgia with words and looks which
intimated that in her they had, at any rate, a scapegoat for their
disappointment. With a calmness which surprised herself, she did not
even spring to her feet, but remarked quietly to Khadija--
“Zeynab is not yet recovered, and Yakub is still at Bir-ul-Malik.”
With a muttered curse the old woman pushed her way through the group
and ordered the men back. They obeyed sulkily, and Georgia, struck by
the irony of the situation and the utter discomfiture of her enemies,
began to laugh. She laughed until the tears came into her eyes, and
the men looked at one another and muttered, “She is certainly mad,”
while Khadija, with disappointed hate depicted on her face, motioned
to her to return to the house. Still laughing weakly, Georgia obeyed,
and found her way back to Rahah, to whom she recounted what had
happened during the last half-hour. Deeply interested, the girl
promised to do her best to unravel the mystery, and when evening came
she returned to her mistress overflowing with news.
“O my lady, I have found it all out. I have seen Ibrahim. He is set
free now, but they had shut him up in a dungeon, that he should not
warn the Major Sahib, because he had discovered their plans, and he
says that all the men are cursing you. The messenger from Fath-ud-Din
yesterday brought orders that on no account were his servants to
attack the English, for that then his life would be forfeited; but
Khadija could not bear to lose her revenge when she had so nearly
obtained it, and she thought it would be all right if she could make
the English attack first. She wanted you to cry out, O my lady,
because she thought that the Major Sahib would know your voice, and
thinking you were a prisoner and in danger, would rush to save you.
The men in the courtyard were told to shut the gate when as many as
possible of the English had come in, and to kill them if they
resisted--as naturally they would. Then she could not be held to blame
if the servants killed the English, who had forced their way into the
place and provoked a fight, or if you were found to have fallen from
the tower in trying to reach the Major Sahib. But you have brought all
her plans to nothing, and the Major Sahib ought to be proud that he
will have such a wife.”