THE OLD ORDER AND THE NEW.
In little more than a week after the ball, Charteris and Gerrard had
shaken from their feet the dust of Ranjitgarh with its Occidental
influences, and were journeying, though westward, towards the pure
unadulterated East in their respective districts. Charteris' sphere of
influence was reached first, a land of prevailing sand-colour with
oases of almost painful green, over which the Granthi sovereignty had
never been more than merely nominal. A Granthi army had made periodic
inroads into Darwan, sweeping off all the cattle it could find, by way
of collecting the revenue, and the Darwanis retorted by incursions
across the Granthi border, designed to assert their independence.
Charteris was at the head of a strong force of Granthis, to emphasize
the fact that he represented the Ranjitgarh Durbar, not the British
Crown nor the Company, and his duties were extensive, if simple. He
was to bring down the oppressor and relieve the oppressed, destroy the
towers of robber chiefs and induce the occupants to turn their
unaccustomed hands to honest labour, establish order in place of
confusion, and generally to make it known and felt that there now
existed, and must be obeyed, a law superior to the sweet will of the
strongest.
Gerrard, passing on towards the south-west, would be faced with quite a
different problem, in the solution of which the velvet glove would play
a more important part, ostensibly at least, than the iron hand. The
province of Agpur formed an indisputable part of the Granthi dominions,
but it was ruled by a feudatory prince, who was faithful to his
obligations during the lifetime of the great conqueror Ajit Singh,
under whose banners he had often ridden to victory, but had seen his
opportunity in the feeble rule of Ajit Singh's successors. One
concession after another had been wrung by his diplomacy from the hands
of weakling or child, the right to raise troops in his own name, to
fortify the city of Agpur, and--though this was still contested by
certain Ranjitgarh stalwarts--the power of nominating his successor
instead of merely recommending his eldest son to the favour of his
suzerain. Only a very few steps, a distance that might be bridged by a
single resolute advance, had separated Partab Singh from the dignity of
a full-blown independent prince, when the nerveless hands of the
Ranjitgarh ruler were suddenly reinforced by the strong grasp of a
British Resident upon the reins. For a short time it was doubtful
whether the stiff-necked old Rajah would not put his fate to the touch,
and come to death-grips with British power acting in the name of the
Durbar, but wiser counsels prevailed. Partab Singh paid his tribute,
with no more deduction than could be accounted for by the ever-ready
plea of a bad harvest, and gave no excuse for marching troops into his
territory. But he would not swell the triumph of the upstart Durbar by
showing himself at Ranjitgarh, nor would he lower his dignity by making
any response to Colonel Antony's overtures. He remained in
self-imposed seclusion within the borders of his province, declining
either to move or to be moved in anything relating to the welfare of
his subjects.
Agpur, then, was the scene of Gerrard's future labours. For his own
sake, Partab Singh would have done well to pay up his tribute in full,
and not plume himself on the slight saving effected in the name of the
bad harvest, for the plea afforded an opening for extending the
influence of the central government. Colonel Antony sent word that he
was despatching one of his most trusted officers to examine the system
of irrigation pursued in the province, and to offer the Rajah any
advice his experience might suggest that would tend to mitigate the
suffering and loss consequent on bad seasons. Following his usual
tactics, Partab Singh returned no answer to the communication, and
Gerrard was therefore proceeding under orders which left him with a
curious combination of strict instructions and wide discretion. He was
to observe many other things besides the irrigation system in the
course of his journeys--Partab Singh's military dispositions, the
attitude of the people towards him, and also towards Ranjitgarh and the
British, and the amount of union or disunion visible between the
Mohammedan and Granthi elements in the population. If possible, he was
to obtain supplies in the usual way from the village headmen as he
passed, but should they be withheld, he was to make arrangements to be
supplied from Darwan, rather than be forced to an ignominious retreat.
The city of Agpur he was not to enter without an express invitation
from its ruler, nor in any way to force himself upon his attention; but
should accident, or any faint glimmerings of a conciliatory spirit on
the part of Partab Singh, bring them together, he was to leave no means
untried to win the Rajah's friendship. The probabilities were that the
old ruler would either continue in his attitude of sullen withdrawal,
or advertise his intention of maintaining the integrity of his
dominions by wiping out the intruders, but that could not be helped.
Gerrard took his life in his hand, and no one thought very much of the
risk. Colonel Antony had a way of casting forth his subordinates into
troubled waters, to sink or swim as best they might, and being picked
men after his own heart, they had a way of returning triumphant,
bringing with them treasures snatched from the deep.
It pleased Charteris to emphasize the dark side of the case as he and
Gerrard shook hands and parted, half a day's journey beyond the spot
fixed upon for the scene of the former's first steps in the art of
government.
"There's something jolly dramatic about all your chances depending on
me," he said. "I might hold back your reports, or send on forged ones
instead, or ruin you in about a hundred different ways." All Gerrard's
communications with Ranjitgarh were to pass through Darwan, lest Partab
Singh should intercept them on the shorter route. "When I am inclined
to feel hipped, I shall spend a happy hour or so in devising
uncomfortableness for you, my boy."
"And how you would enjoy explaining to Miss Cinnamond the way in which
you had eliminated your hated rival!" said Gerrard.
"Well, why not? All the old fellows in the Ages of Chivalry, that she
talks of, did that sort of thing all day long, so why should she blame
in a poor beggar of a Bengali what she would pass over in a baron bold?"
"Her age of chivalry is about as near the truth as the idyllic pictures
of blameless Hindus that they hold up in Parliament, I fancy. Well,
Bob, we can't say you haven't told me what to expect. If I do call
upon you for help, you'll know it's a mere matter of form."
"Of course. It's quite impossible that I should get to you in time,
you realise that? But I'll tell you what I will do for you, with the
greatest pleasure. When you are safely dead, I'll avenge you in style.
The smoking ruins of Agpur shall be your funeral pyre, as the old
fellow said to the Dey of Algiers."
"Most consoling to me. Well, good-bye, Bob!"
"Good-bye, Hal, and good luck to you!" and they rode upon their
separate ways.
For a time Gerrard's progress through Agpur territory was uneventful.
It was not necessary to obtain provisions from Darwan, for they were
forthcoming from the country traversed, though with accompaniments of
vexatious delay and unfulfilled promises that showed the headmen had no
fear of being taken to task for not making the traveller's way easy.
The Granthi escort required ruling with a rod of iron, for they were
prone, after their usual fashion, to prey upon the people, and it was
no part of Colonel Antony's plan to provide Partab Singh with a
colourable grievance. A few severe examples were necessary before the
half-trained troopers realised that their new commander was in earnest,
but when once the idea had been fixed in their minds that to seize the
property of even the poorest cultivator without payment meant dismissal
in disgrace, they began to take a pride in his very severity.
As for the people of the country, they regarded this new-fangled
behaviour with suspicion at first, as probably a cloak for deeper
designs of plunder on the part of Gerrard himself, but learned
gradually to regard him as well-meaning, though certainly mad. Here
and there a farmer or headman would open his heart to him, letting in
light on many dark places in Partab Singh's administration, while from
the elders who gathered round his tent-door at night when he was
encamped near a village he learned what was the popular estimate of the
ruler himself. One story was told with bated breath again and again,
establishing Partab Singh's character in the minds of his people as a
man of the nicest honour. A few years before, the Rajah had slain with
his own hand every woman and girl in his zenana, as the result of some
discovery, the nature of which no one durst even conjecture, and had
since brought home to his blood-stained halls a young bride of purest
Rajput descent from beyond Nanakpur, who had borne him a son, commonly
reported to be the apple of his eye. There had been an elder son, but
no one knew whether he was alive or dead, though a gruesome tale was
whispered of his father's having ordered his eyes to be torn out. A
faithful foster-brother was said to have sacrificed himself to save
him, and to have died in the prison after his eyes had been duly
exhibited to the Rajah as those of his son, while the prince made his
escape in the servant's clothes, but the truth of this was not vouched
for. Altogether, life seemed to be rather lightly regarded in the
Agpur royal family, though Gerrard gathered that Partab Singh was held
by connoisseurs to have failed to vindicate to the utmost his insulted
honour. If the occasion were grave enough to warrant the massacre of
every living thing in the zenana, it called also for the death of the
avenger by his own hand as a finishing touch, but it was universally
allowed that this could hardly be expected in the case of a man who had
left himself no heir. Much was said also as to Partab Singh's lavish
treatment of his soldiers and his presumable intention in training
them, his encouragement of merchants and crusade against large
landholders, who were either persecuted out of existence or compelled
to reside in Agpur under his own eye, and the fortune he was heaping up
for his one precious son. Thus the voluminous reports forwarded to
Darwan for transmission to Ranjitgarh were by no means deficient either
in detail or interest.
In the natural course of his leisurely progress, equally unhasting and
unresting, Gerrard was now approaching the neighbourhood of the city of
Agpur, not without experiencing an occasional constricted feeling about
his throat, as though he was walking into a trap the entrance into
which had obligingly been made easy for him. He was surprised to find
that he was entering upon a scene of desolation. The half-ripe harvest
had been roughly reaped in part, but was elsewhere trampled down, and
the villages were deserted by their inhabitants; or if by chance a man
or two were seen, they fled with the utmost speed. It seemed as if an
army had been passing through the country, and presumably it was Partab
Singh's own army, since no one was known to be invading him. But why
should he be moving his army about at this particular season, and in
the absence of any outside enemy? That the answer to this question
might prove to have an unpleasant effect upon his own fortunes Gerrard
was aware, and his thoughts were not altogether agreeable as he sat in
his tent during the heat of the day. It seemed prudent to put his
papers in order--perhaps to destroy one or two which might be liable to
misinterpretation in unfriendly hands, and this he was proceeding to do
when an orderly came to say that a local Sirdar and his son, who had
become separated from their attendants in a hunting expedition, asked
if they might take shelter in the Sahib's camp until the sun was a
little cooler. The idea of a hunting expedition was strange in the
desolate state of; the district, but Gerrard hoped to gain some
information from the strangers, and ordered that they should be brought
to his tent. As he rose to go forward and welcome them, a low
voice--that of the _munshi_ sitting on the ground at his side--arrested
him.
"Sahib, I cannot be sure, but I think that old man is the Rajah Partab
Singh, whom I have seen once at Nanakpur. Do not betray that you
suspect him, but look at the mark of the _kalgi_ on the turbans of the
two."
The words were so quickly spoken that Gerrard's pause was barely
perceptible, and he went out to meet the newcomers without hesitation.
They were an elderly bearded man and a boy of five or six, dressed in
ordinary country stuffs, but on the turbans of both there was
distinguishable to one who looked for it a slight discoloration, as
though an aigrette or other token of distinction had recently been
removed, and their horses were very fine. Gerrard welcomed them
courteously, and the old man introduced himself as Sirdar Hari Ram, and
the boy as his grandson, Narayan Lal. A carpet was already spread in
Gerrard's tent, and he motioned them to it, while he gave an order or
two respecting refreshments, and other things. The hookah kept for
occasions of this sort was brought in, and Gerrard took a whiff
himself, then passed the mouthpiece to his guests, but it was politely
refused, with a sanctimonious glance at the servants. The boy soon
tired of sitting still, and began to investigate the tent, attracted by
the European furniture and weapons. In response to his inquiries,
Gerrard exhibited and explained his watch, his tin despatch-box, (which
aroused disappointment as not being filled with treasure,) and his
Colt's revolver, at that time a surprising novelty. The old man was as
fascinated with it as the child, and remarked gloomily that it was no
wonder the English had so much power, when one of them could carry six
men's lives in his hand. He seemed inclined to talk, so Gerrard looked
out an illustrated paper which had lately reached him from home, and
opened it for the boy at the picture of the opening of a new railway by
the Queen and Prince Albert.
"Sit down here, little one, and look at this," he said kindly.
The child drew himself up with great dignity. "I am a prince, and I
sit at no man's feet save my father's, O bearer of many deaths."
Here was a confirmation of the Munshi's suspicions, and Gerrard could
not forbear a glance at the old man to see how he took it. But no
discomfiture was visible.
"The women spoil him and puff him up. But 'tis a fine spirit!" said
the Sirdar, beaming even while he made the sign to avert the evil eye.
"Nevertheless, delight of my heart, sit thou at the foot of the Sahib,
for verily that is where all Granthistan must now sit."
The boy obeyed, and the old man took his turn at putting questions.
Many of them were trivial enough, but Gerrard soon became conscious
that there was something behind, that attempts were continually being
made to entrap him. The inexhaustible theme of the relations between
the Crown and the Company was freely discussed without seeming to
become much clearer to the Sirdar, and Gerrard realised by degrees that
his guest was seeking for a weak point, a jealousy between the two
governing bodies, or between two rulers, such as a bold diplomatist
might exploit to his own advantage. His answers must therefore be
guarded, and yet apparently frank, lest the old man should read into
them what he desired, and it seemed that the inquirer had been baffled
successfully when he flew off at a tangent to Colonel Antony and his
administration.
"We hear strange things of the Ranjitgarh Durbar," he remarked
sarcastically, "how the due compliments are always offered, and any man
may lift up his voice and be heard with mildness--the wretch who was a
slave but yesterday as readily as a prince of the house of Ajit Singh."
"It is true," said Gerrard. "Our religion bids us be courteous to all
men, and the Resident follows its precepts."
The old man smiled unpleasantly. "This Antni Sahib--he is one to be
wondered at, is he not? Men say that when certain would have had the
English take possession of Granthistan for themselves, he withstood
them." A meaning pause. "And they say also that when any Englishman
would override the rights of a Granthi, be he Sirdar or peasant, Antni
Sahib is on the side of the Granthi."
"Quite true," said Gerrard again.
The Sirdar bent towards him. "Then, since he betrays his own masters
thus, from whom does he look for reward?" he asked triumphantly.
"The Resident desires no reward but the gratitude of the Granthis, if
that may be had, Sirdar Sahib."
"And the gratitude of the Granthis is to place him on the _gaddi_ as
King of Granthistan?" The old man's self-satisfaction was so evident
as he displayed his acumen in detecting this deep-laid plot that
Gerrard almost laughed in his face.
"Nay, Sirdar Sahib, he trusts to see young Lena Singh on his father's
throne, ruling as an upright king, when he himself has returned an old
man to England. But excuse me a moment."
The Eurasian apothecary, the only man in the camp who could speak
English, had entered deprecatingly, with a visage of alarm. Gerrard
spoke sharply.
"Don't look so frightened, Mr Moraes. What is it?"
"Zere are soldiers approaching, sar--a whole armee. What is to be
done?"
"Bid Sirdar Badan Hazari send the men to their posts, and challenge the
strangers before they get within musket-shot." He turned again to the
old man. "You think that Colonel Antony might wish to make himself
King of Granthistan, but which of all the English has ever done such a
thing?"
"Nay, but they conquered for their masters. This man who resists his
masters must surely have some advantage for himself in view?"
"Sahib!" It was the little boy who spoke eagerly before Gerrard could
answer; "who are these men with guns and swords, and why do they come
before the tent?"
Gerrard cast a careless glance at his twelve troopers, noticing that
the old Sirdar did not move a muscle. "They are to protect my guests,
little prince," he answered.
"But why are their guns pointed this way?"
"That my guests may see them, and know themselves safe."
"Your guests are much indebted to your thoughtfulness, sahib," said the
old man, with something of mockery in his tone. Gerrard would have
given much to know what was passing behind those inscrutable eyes. Was
that long curved dagger, with the handle of which the Sirdar's fingers
were continually playing, destined to be sheathed in his heart at the
moment that an attack was made upon the camp from without? It almost
looked like it, and yet why had the old man given such a hostage to
fortune as the child he had brought with him? To prevent a flagging in
the conversation, which might have been attributed to nervousness,
Gerrard brought out his sketch-book, and requested the honour of taking
the portraits of Sirdar Hari Ram and his grandson. The request was
granted, but before the water for which he called had been brought
Moraes appeared again.
"Ze strange officer desire to see you, sar. He say he Rajah Partab
Singh's _Komadan_." [1]
"Tell him to send a message, since I am engaged with guests."
"He say you must give up zose persons, sar. Old man and leetle boy, he
come to look for zem."
"Then tell him to come and take them. And you can promise him in my
name a pretty tough job if he does." He turned from Moraes with noble
disdain, and bestowed a reassuring smile upon his guests.
"Sahib," said the old man, "the wise lingers not where his presence is
an inconvenience. The youth who has just left us appeared to desire
our departure."
"His desires are of no moment, Sirdar Sahib, even were he so unmannerly
as to express them."
"But it is the part of a churl to bring danger upon a host, sahib, and
I have many enemies. Is it possible that there are those without who
demand that I should be yielded up to them?"
"Since you ask, it is so, but you need have no fear that I shall
comply," said Gerrard, more puzzled than ever.
"Nay, sahib, but I myself will depart with the child, so that neither
your honour nor your safety will be menaced."
"You will do nothing of the kind, Sirdar Sahib. What! shall I suffer a
guest to step from my very carpet into the hands of his foes? You
would cover me with disgrace from the mountains to the sea."
"I will not bring trouble upon you, sahib. Suffer us to go."
"Certainly not. I will rather use violence to keep you. A word to
these men of mine----"
The veins on the old man's forehead swelled, and his eyes flamed. "By
the Guru! if the slaves of Lena Singh and the English dare to lay a
finger on me----!" he cried. "Foolish young man, will you keep me from
my own troops? I am the Rajah Partab Singh."
Gerrald stepped back with a bow. "Maharaj-ji, you are free to depart.
I had not thought that the man whom I welcomed to my tent designed to
pick a quarrel with me. Depart freely, and your son with you, but bear
me witness that I did not fail in hospitality."
"Nor shall you find Partab Singh deficient in hospitality, O son of
noble parents!" cried the old man, softening suddenly. "Know this, my
friend. I designed to put you to a test, to prove your courtesy, your
courage, your good faith, that I might see whether the English were
indeed to be trusted. Well has Antni Sahib done in sending one like
you, since he could not come himself!"
[1] Commandant.