Looking from her latticed chamber sat Kummoo-bee, her heart beating so
that its pulsations seemed audible to her own ear, her bosom heaving as
though it would almost burst the bounds of the light boddice which
enclosed it, and her eye flashing brightly, as she thought upon the sure
success of her mission. Little she heeded the soft and chastening light
which the moon’s rays cast upon every object around, silvering the tall
white minarets of the mosque, till they stood out in perfect relief
against the deep blue of the sky, and resting upon the sharp pinnacles
of the ancient temples, where all else was lost in shadow. The large
courts around them, into which she looked in the day-time, then filled
with busy throngs, were now deserted, save by the broad giant shadows
which the temple and the trees around it cast across them. Now and then
the shrouded form of a Brahmin would pass noiselessly through them, the
moon’s light resting brightly upon the white drapery around him; but as
he hurried on the deep black shadow seemed to enshroud him, and he was
no longer discernible within its influence.
As Kummoo sat thus, she would idly speculate, with vacant eye fixed upon
some figure in the square beyond, or listen to the hoarse and distant
noubut, which, as the night advanced, beat at the tomb of the Sultaun’s
father, or to the wailing and quivering sound of the brass horns which
arose from the camp, when the watch was being relieved. She heeded not
the luscious perfume of orange-flowers and tube-roses, which, loading
the air, came in at her open window from the garden beneath; but her
whole senses were absorbed in one object, which she rather wooed than
strove to turn away from her mental vision; at times too a tear would
fill her large lustrous eye, and, welling over the lid, trickle down her
face unheeded—a tear of burning passion—no soother to her excited mind,
but rather aggravating those feelings which had now become almost too
painful to be borne.
‘What can delay her?’ she said, speaking half aloud to herself; ‘by this
time I might have been with him. Ya, Fatima, aid me! my liver is burnt
with passion, and the air which comes to me seems hot—hot with my own
breath; I can bear this no longer. Why does she tarry?—she is old, or
she might be dallying with him. What if she were? but no, that cannot
be—she dared not. She knows well I would tear her limb from limb if she
harboured even a thought of his love; and she is faithful too. I must
wait; he was away perhaps—he may have been here—here, under this roof,
where he little dreamed there existed one whose greatest happiness would
be to die at his feet. Holy Alla! who is that?’ she cried, as a long
train of musing into which she had fallen was suddenly interrupted by
the opening of her chamber door. ‘Who comes?’
‘Sozunbee,’ was the reply.
‘Sozunbee!’ she said, while the blood poured through her frame in wild
pulsations; ‘and ’tis thou at last! Hither, quick! quick! sit here, and
tell me all. I have long, long looked for thee; why hast thou tarried? I
am ready now—even now; come, let us haste—what? thou dost not speak!
Woman! hast thou done my bidding?—hast thou seen him?—if not, tell me,
and I shall be cool—now I am burning!—Ya Alla kureem, burning!’ and she
fanned herself violently, while her articulation showed that her mouth
was quite parched. ‘Speak! why dost thou not speak?’
‘I have seen him,’ was the reply.
‘Well! Oh for patience to listen! By Alla! thou canst never have loved,
Sozunbee, or thou wouldst know what it is to have fire within
thee—fire!—wilt thou not quench it?’
‘It will be hard for thee to hear all, lady; shall I tell it?’
‘All—all! thou sawest him—well! why dost thou hesitate?’
‘I would spare thee pain; go now to rest, thou wilt be calm to-morrow.’
‘Pain! what dost thou mean? Pain!—he cannot—’ she almost gasped in a
hoarse whisper, while her eyes flashed so that Sozun could hardly bear
their intense gaze; ‘he cannot have denied me! he dare not have flung
aside love like mine! Holy Prophet! Sozun, thou dost jest!’ and she
laughed wildly.
‘May the holy Mother of Ali, and the Lady Murium, and the saints aid
thee, my life!’ said the woman, rising and passing her hands over her
head, to withdraw the evil from her. ‘May they give thee peace! As I
live I saw him and spoke with him, but thou must be calm ere I tell it
thee.’
‘I am calm—see, I am quite calm,’ she said, making a violent effort to
swallow; ‘feel my hand—it is cool—I can listen.’
But her hand belied her words; it burned as though she were in a fever,
and the quick and strong pulsations of her blood were distinctly
perceptible; to delay, however, was but to excite her more.
‘I went,’ said Sozun, ‘to his abode; long I watched at the door: men
came and went; the Khan was there; there was haste and bustle, and much
deliberation. At last all departed; a Khitmutgar[53] observed me, and
asked me what I did there? I said I would speak with the Syud, that I
had a matter to tell him of; he went in, and I followed. I was closely
veiled. “Wait here,” said the man, “I will inform him.” I waited; the
moments were like hours. “Go in,” said the man when he returned, “he is
alone.” I trembled as I proceeded, and found myself in his small
apartment ere I was aware. The Syud was writing. “Stop! who art thou?”
he asked, and his words were sweet as the sound of children’s voices at
play. I salaamed thrice.’
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Footnote 53:
Attendant.
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‘Quick! quick! good Sozun, what said he?’ asked the lady eagerly. ‘I
care not what thou didst.’
‘Thou shalt hear. “I am your slave,” said I, “and bring thee a
message—wilt thou listen?” "Say on," he replied, “I hear thee; sit down
and speak; hast thou any complaint?” "No, no!" I said, “I have none;
cease writing, and listen.” He did so: then I untied the corner of my
dooputta, and gave him what thou hadst sent. “Dost thou understand the
tokens?” I asked.
‘Beebee! he looked sorrowfully on them. “They speak of love,” he said;
“why hast thou brought them to one who is dying?”
‘“She is fair,” I said—“most lovely. Her eyes are large, her lips are
red; in beauty she is like a rose when it opens to meet the morning sun
which drinks the fragrant dew from its cup. She has seen thee, O Syud,
and her liver has become water.”
‘“What misfortune is around me?” he said. There was no anger in his
tone, but sorrow. “I have no love now but for one; but let that pass. Go
to her who sent thee: say I pity her—say, as we have never met, and I
know her not, so let her turn her thoughts to another; she will see many
in the Durbar.”
‘He had thought thee one of the palace dancers; thou knowest they are
high and proud, and men account themselves fortunate to win a smile from
them: I eagerly undeceived him.
‘“She is no Tuwaif,” I said; “she is a householder, and as far above
them in beauty as the moon is above a star.”’
‘And what said he, Sozun?’
‘Then he grew grave, my pearl, and said sternly,—“Such love is sinful—it
is impure; bid her forget it. She hath a lord—what am I to her? Why hath
she looked on me with eyes of passion? Begone! say to her, Kasim Ali
Patél is no man of dishonour, but pure and unstained; as yet, no
dissolute or debauched gallant. Away! thou art an offence to me.”
Beebee! I tried to speak; he would hear nought. “Begone! begone!” alone
sounded in mine ears, and his eyes were so large and so severe that I
trembled.’
‘And was this all, Sozun? was this all? Ah fool! ah fool! why didst thou
not say I was a Tuwaif—anything—a slave—he would have heard thee. Ah
fool! couldst thou not have pleaded for me in words—hot, burning words,
such as would have inflamed his heart, dried up the cold dew of his
virtue, and turned him to me with a love as violent as mine own? Couldst
thou not have said that I live upon his look?—one look I had, only one,
which mine own thoughts have magnified into years of intercourse—couldst
thou not tell him that I am one who will brook no control? Ya Rehman
Alla! couldst thou—’
‘But he said he loved another,’ interrupted Sozun, vainly endeavouring
to stem the torrent of her mistress’s words.
‘What, another! O woman, thou didst not say so—thou didst not dare to
say it. He loves another! Then he _can_ love, if he has loved another.
Who is she? couldst thou discover her, O dull one? A Tuwaif perhaps—some
vile and worthless one, some scum of perdition! No, he is too noble for
that.—Water, Sozun, water! By Alla, I choke! Enough—now take the vessel.
Thou saidst another. Ha! if it were she! _if_ it were she! What dost
thou think?’
‘Who?’
‘Ameena! it must be—it can be no other. She is beautiful, very
beautiful; he hath saved her life, twice saved it. They have been in
camps together, and he must have met her, and then— Dost thou not see
all, Sozun, clear to thine eye as daylight? Does it not all open
gradually upon thee, as when the dawn of morning dispels the darkness,
objects that were before dim and shadowy assume palpable forms?’
‘There is suspicion surely, Khanum, but we have never heard aught
breathed against her.’
‘No, she hath been discreet; but may it not be so? I ask thee calmly,
when Alla knows my heart is on fire.’
‘It may, but—’
‘Enough! enough! we will watch: and she who was born to be my curse—she
who hath thrown me from my seat of pride, and intruded between me and my
rights—may perchance be rudely thrown from her elevation. Grant it, O
Prophet! O ye saints and holy men, grant it! Yes, we will watch now,
Sozun; wilt thou not aid me?’
‘To the last.’
‘Enough then now; this hath calmed me somewhat for the while: revenge is
dimly seen in the distance, but it will come, it will come! Now lie down
beside me and sleep; the night is far spent, I am weary of watching, and
my heart aches, Sozun.’
‘Alla keep thee, lady!’ returned the other; ‘I will watch beside thee
for a while, for I feel not sleepy, and the air is pleasant.’
And she watched silently, for her thoughts were busy with the events of
that night—her strange meeting with Jaffar, his now apparently reckless
character, and the threats he had held out against the young Patél; for
she had been with him long, and if they had not renewed the passionate
love of former years, he had caressed her, and vowed to befriend the
only being for whom he had ever felt affection.
The fresh breeze of night, laden with perfume from tree and flower,
poured in gentle whispers through the casement, murmuring and sighing
above it amidst the slender leaves of the palms. Abroad all was still,
except now and then the bark of a dog, or the call of the sentinels upon
the walls to each other that all was well. Gradually the moon’s glorious
light crept round to the window, and stealing into the room, it wandered
over the recumbent figure of the lady till it rested upon her face. ‘She
sleeps now,’ thought Sozun, ‘or the light would disturb her; peacefully
too! and oh, how lovely her features and those long lashes appear, as
the light plays among them, and kisses them in very wantonness. I would
he could see her now—he, with those glorious eyes so full of expression,
into which no woman could look without love! her fate is in the power of
her destiny. May it be propitious! Our paths are dark and rugged before
us, yet we must walk on without a light or a guide. And now I will to
rest also, for mind and body are both weary.’
Men poured into the Fort from every side the following morning, both
officers and men; for the order had gone forth for all to hear the
determination of the Sultaun upon the crisis. Elephants and horses, gay
palankeens, their bearers striving with each other for precedence,
proceeded to the Durbar, exerting their utmost speed with loud cries;
and glittering armour, cloth of gold and silver, and the most brilliant
silks, satins and muslins, shone in the bright sun, as the turbans, the
vests, or the scarfs of the wearers. Rumour had gone forth that the
Sultaun himself would proceed against the infidels, and every man was
eager to be led to war and plunder—victory in the one, and rich booty in
the other, being his by anticipation.
Crowds hurried on. The hall of audience in the palace had long been
filled, and the people reached from the entrance far beyond into the
courtyard. Cries of ‘Deen! Deen! Alla Yar! Alla Yar!’ rose perpetually
from among the mass, and mingled with the sound of the kettle-drum and
shrill pipes, which continued playing while the Durbar was open. The
Sultaun was seated upon his throne, over which, suspended by a fine
wire, so as to appear really to flutter over him, was hung a golden
bird, whose wings and tail, set with precious gems, glittered as the
wind stirred it to and fro. This was the Humma, or sacred bird of
Paradise, whose shadow, so long as it falls upon a monarch, prevents his
sustaining any injury, and to which many miraculous powers were ascribed
by the lower order of soldiery, or those who had risen from it. Around
Tippoo—some engaged in fanning him, others gently moving peacocks’
feathers or tails of the Thibet cow to and fro, to prevent the flies
from settling on him—were a number of fair and youthful creatures, whose
ruddy or pale cheeks showed their origin to have been in the cold and
distant climate of the West. They were all dressed sumptuously as women,
they had been instructed in the arts of music and dancing, and were thus
held up to the scorn of the people generally, who were taught, by
frequent allusions to them, that all English were effeminate cowards,
fit only to be dressed as women, and to be engaged in such frivolous
occupations. Some of the boys were young, and had known no other
existence than that debased slavery. These took pride in their gorgeous
dresses, and moved about to display them; others, apparently
over-powered by shame at their disgraceful situation, hung down their
heads and strove to conceal their faces from the prying glances of the
spectators. A miserable lot was theirs: many of them retaining a vivid
remembrance of their countrymen, their faith, and their freedom, were
obliged to perform a routine of bitterly degrading duties, dancing and
singing before the Sultaun for the amusement of the Court; and although
many of the spectators pitied the poor boys and their sad fate, yet no
one dared to utter a word of sympathy in their behalf, while there were
too many who rejoiced in their abject condition.
Seated near the monarch were his sons, three fine youths; and in double
and treble rows from the throne, the officers of the army, of the state,
his own flatterers and sycophants, and a host of others, as closely
packed as it was possible to stand or sit. From time to time some of the
boys would perform a dance before him, or a few jesters, buffoons or
actors, exhibit some ribald scene: the more their language was indecent
and keenly directed against the English, the more applause it received
from those present, particularly from the Sultaun, who encouraged them
by words and promises of liberal reward; while shouts of laughter would
resound through the hall at any successful sally or witty allusion.
The moments were, however, precious; and when the Sultaun observed that
the hall was full, the dancers and jesters were dismissed, and silence
commanded. The order was obeyed, and all looked with impatience to hear
the real result of their monarch’s deliberation, in regard to the matter
of peace or war, which had so long appeared to be doubtful. For a while
he appeared to meditate: then, partly raising himself up, he selected a
small paper from among the heap before him, and, ere he read it, spoke
to those immediately around him.
‘We, whose government is the gift of Alla,’ he said, ‘desire no
concealment in our affairs; therefore listen, O ye faithful, and my
friends—we are about to read you a revelation which was vouchsafed to us
last night, and which on awaking we recorded; it hath since pleased the
author of power to afford our mind a clue to the unravelment of the
mystery, and this too we will unfold to you. As we lay asleep soon after
midnight, we thought we stood on the shore of the sea, and afar off
sailed many great and powerful ships which bore the colours of the
English. As we looked, behold a little cloud arose, and soon there was a
mighty wind, before which all was scattered, and those who were on the
seashore awaiting their arrival returned to their homes dejected and
dispirited. These were the kafir Feringhees (may their graves be
unblessed!)—they are helpless now; and, by the favour of the Prophet, as
they have provoked a war by their own imprudence and bad faith, they
shall find that the men of Islam are ready and willing to fight for
their faith.’
‘We are ready! we are ready!’ cried the assembly with one voice; ‘lead
us to battle! we are your children—we will fight with you to the death.’
‘Listen further,’ he continued; ‘there was yet another vision more
wonderful than the last vouchsafed to us, which proves that all those
Moosulmans who fight against us in the armies of the English become hogs
when they are stricken with death.’
‘They deserve it—they are faithless and treacherous—they sin against the
holy Prophet (may his grave have rest!)—so may their ends be perdition
and unholy!’ shouted many of those who listened, while the rest cried,
‘A miracle! a miracle! that such revelations should be made to our
Father and our Sultaun!’
‘But that was not all,’ continued Tippoo; ‘for, to prove his words, the
angel withdrew a film from before mine eyes, and I beheld a most
extraordinary spectacle—one which filled me with amazement: before me
stood a man with a hog’s head, who, when he saw me, advanced to meet me.
“Who art thou?” I said. “I am one of the true faith of Islam,” he cried,
“but I no longer desire to be called one, for I fought against it under
the banners of the infidels, and now I suffer for my indiscretion and
faithlessness. I am, as you see, a hog; and these men have all been
transformed into hogs; they also were killed in the various engagements
with the kafirs; we are in the dreary land of spirits, and thine is
permitted to hold communion with ours here, in order that the glory of
the faith may be upheld, and the terror of our example made known among
thine armies.”
‘Then methought all became dark and dreary, and a cold wind blew, and
before us were shadowy objects which the eye could not determine at
first; but as we looked upon the scene, dim forms were seen advancing
towards us in lines, even like unto regiments, and the spirit which had
spoken to us began to manœuvre them after the manner of the English,
with whose system it appeared to be acquainted. But, O my friends, as I
looked, all had hogs’ faces! and the words of him they obeyed sounded
like grunts in our ears. Wherefore we beseech you to consider this
thing, and whether it is better to live and die in a natural state—the
beloved and chosen of Alla—or whether ye would also be hogs, and wallow
in the filth of your own abomination, like unto the Christians and those
who serve them?’
‘Miracles! miracles!’ shouted the assembly; ‘the Sultaun is the beloved
of Alla! To him alone are now revealed visions and wonderful dreams! for
him we will fight, and for the faith!’
‘Ay, ye say right,’ cried Tippoo; ‘very wonderful are the manifestations
of Alla to his servant; therefore we shall this day begin our march, for
we have heard that the kafirs are below the passes: Inshalla! a few days
will bring us up to them, and then we will see whether their pride and
haughtiness cannot be humbled. Let us, therefore, join together and send
these infidels to the regions of perdition; and if ye be crowned with
victory, ye will be full of honour and renown, and become the envy of
the world; while to those who fall, martyrs in the cause of Islam, hear
what the Prophet (blessed be his name!) hath promised. “They shall enter
into pleasant places, where many rivers flow, and curious fountains send
forth most murmuring streams, near which they shall repose themselves on
soft beds, adorned with gold and precious stones, under the shadow of
the trees of Paradise, which shall continually yield all manner of
delicious fruits. And they shall enjoy beautiful women, pure and clean,
having black eyes and countenances always fresh and white as polished
pearls, who shall love none but themselves, with whom they shall enjoy
the perpetual pleasures of love, and solace themselves in their company
with amorous delights to all eternity; drinking with them most delicious
liquors without ever being overcharged by them, which shall be
administered by beautiful boys, who shall be continually running round
their beds to serve them up to them in cups of gold and glasses fixed on
diamonds.”’
‘We will follow the good path!’ cried hundreds, with flashing eyes and
fierce gestures; ‘show us the infidels, and we will fall on them and
annihilate them for ever!’
‘Bismilla, so be it!’ returned the Sultaun; ‘every man to his post! pay
shall be issued to all, and to-morrow we shall advance. The planets are
in a fortunate conjunction, and the kafirs shall tremble once more at
our terrible war-cry of Alla Yar.’
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