PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES.
In a moment all was confusion. Behind the curtain, Zulika and Hafiza
threw themselves upon Wazira Begum, and carried her off by main force,
regardless of her struggles, locking her into a small room where
jewels and best clothes were kept. They had seen the man in the litter
raise himself and deal Maadat Ali a blow that stretched him senseless
on the floor, and their sudden action had only just prevented the girl
from rushing unveiled into the turmoil of armed men. The hall was
ringing with battle-cries: “Jabal! Jabal!” from the brotherhood,
“Dīn! Dīn!” from the men who had carried the litter and those who
had dogged their steps. Swords were flashing; but such was the
confusion that the garrison of Sheikhgarh did not know who was friend
or who foe. The dark-clothed strangers, who had almost succeeded in
surrounding them, were obviously enemies; but mingled among themselves
were the litter-bearers in their own distinctive dress, headed by the
man who had been carried in the litter, and who had now sprung to his
feet and unsheathed a sword. Beset and outnumbered, the men of the
Mountains turned furiously upon the nearest foe each could
distinguish, and a wild turmoil raged, which swayed for a moment
towards the entrance of the hall, leaving clear the remains of the
litter and the form of Maadat Ali lying beside it. Lady Haigh put a
hand round the curtain and gripped the arm of Murtiza Khan, who still
stood motionless in his niche. These bewildering changes were nothing
to him; his duty began and ended with the defence of his Memsahibs.
“Fetch in the boy, Murtiza Khan!” said Lady Haigh sharply. The trooper
hesitated for a moment, then assured himself that the archway was not
threatened, and dashed across the hall, returning with the motionless
body of the boy.
“Bring him inside--quick!” said Lady Haigh authoritatively, moving the
curtain aside; and with horrible reluctance Murtiza Khan obeyed, to
the accompaniment of a chorus of shrieks from the old women within,
who improvised hastily makeshifts for veils. He looked anxiously round
for a bed on which to lay the boy, preparatory to an immediate
retreat.
“Hold him! You are not to go outside again,” cried Lady Haigh,
stamping her foot. “Unlock that door!” she commanded the two old
women, pointing to the room where Wazira Begum could be heard beating
the woodwork with her fists and demanding furiously to be let out.
Hafiza seemed inclined to remonstrate, but Zulika obeyed promptly, and
the girl dashed out, with dishevelled hair and bleeding knuckles,
bestowing a furious blow on the old nurse as she passed, and nearly
knocking her down. Catching sight of her brother, she tore him from
the trooper’s arms and pressed him to her breast, crouching in a
corner and moaning over him. Lady Haigh laid a firm hand on her
shoulder.
“Listen to me, Wazira Begum. Is there any door or gate at the back by
which you can let a messenger out?”
“Take thy hand away!” shrieked the girl. “How dost thou dare touch me?
It is thou who hast brought all this evil upon us. O my brother, my
little brother, do I behold thee dead in my arms?”
“Answer me,” said Lady Haigh, giving her a slight shake. “You can do
your brother no good by crying over him.”
“There is a secret door, but the Sheikh alone can enter or depart by
it,” was the unwilling reply. “Now leave me to bewail my dead.”
“Then we must let Murtiza Khan down over the wall. Wazira Begum, you
must come and show us the best place, and give orders to your women.
Your brother is not dead. I saw him move just now.”
“I will not leave him, O accursed Farangi! Why should I desire to save
the life of thy servant, who has profaned the very zenana?”
“To save your own life and your brother’s, to say nothing of ours.
Murtiza Khan must bear the news of this treachery to Alibad, and bring
help, if it can be managed. Come! leave the boy with Hafiza.”
Sullenly and reluctantly Wazira Begum obeyed, and wrapping herself in
the veil which Zulika brought her, led the way through the passage.
Lady Haigh paused to speak to the old woman--
“Stay at the curtain, and parley with any who may desire to enter.
Keep them back at any cost until we return.”
Hurrying after the rest she caught up Murtiza Khan, who was following
the women in intense misery, with his eyes on the ground.
“Do you understand, Murtiza Khan? You are to get through to Alibad at
any cost, and tell Keeling Sahib that the enemy have surprised
Sheikhgarh.”
“How is this?” asked Murtiza Khan. “Does not the Presence know that I
was charged to protect her and the Miss Sahib, and how dare I leave
them defenceless to the enemy?”
“What could one man do? You could only fight till you were killed.”
“Nay, I could slay both the Presences before the enemy broke in.”
“Thanks, we can do that for ourselves if necessary. There are knives
here, at any rate, whatever there may not be. But if the Sahibs are
not warned, they will come to Sheikhgarh thinking it is in friendly
hands, and will be ambushed in the mountains. That must be prevented.”
“It is the will of the Presence,” said Murtiza Khan, with a
resignation as sulky in its way as Wazira Begum’s. The girl had led
the way up to the roofs of the buildings surrounding the zenana
courtyard, which formed a terrace from which the defence of the place
could be carried on. She sprang up on the parapet, and looked over the
wall.
“Here is the place,” she said. “My brother Ashraf Ali once dropped a
jewel from his turban over the wall, and we let him down to recover
it. Bring ropes, O women.”
The servants ran wildly in all directions, and produced a
heterogeneous collection of cords, which were knotted together and
pieced out with strips torn from sheets. The trooper tested them
carefully, and expressed himself as satisfied, only entreating that
Lady Haigh would herself hold the cord and give the orders. Then he
let himself down over the parapet, hung for a moment to the edge by
his fingers, and loosed his hold. Lady Haigh restrained the eagerness
of the women who held the rope, insisting that they should pay it out
slowly and steadily; and after what seemed an age, the trooper’s voice
was heard, telling them to slacken it a little, that he might unfasten
it. Then the rope came up again free, and not daring to wait on the
wall, Lady Haigh and Wazira Begum left the servants to untie and hide
the separate parts, and fled back into the house. Wazira Begum was
madly anxious about her brother, and Lady Haigh now remembered that
Penelope had not accompanied them to the wall. They both caught sight
of her at the same moment, and Wazira Begum sprang forward with a cry
of rage, for Penelope was kneeling by the charpoy on which Maadat Ali
lay, and binding up his head. The fierce jealousy which made the
native girl rush to drive her away did not even occur to her, and she
looked up at her with a smile.
“He is only stunned, and he is beginning to come round. Take my place,
so that he may see you when he opens his eyes, but don’t startle him.
I’m sure he ought to be kept very quiet.”
Her anger disarmed by Penelope’s unsuspiciousness, Wazira Begum obeyed
meekly, and kneeling down by the charpoy, murmured endearing epithets
as she pressed her lips passionately to her brother’s hands. But Lady
Haigh had moved to the curtain, beyond which Zulika had just been
summoned by an imperious voice which demanded that some one from the
zenana should come forth and speak. The contest in the hall had ended
in the triumph of the invaders. The bodies of the dead and dying which
cumbered the floor showed that the men of the Mountains had fought
hard for their stronghold; but they were much outnumbered, and utterly
taken by surprise. Their assailants were evidently kept well in hand
by their leader, the man who had been carried in the litter, for
instead of dispersing through the fortress in search of loot, they
were methodically removing the dead and caring for their own wounded.
The wounded among the defenders were promptly despatched. It was the
leader who now stood before the curtain, and before whom Zulika
grovelled abjectly, her forehead on the ground.
“Who is within?” asked the leader.
“My lord’s servants the daughter and the young son of my master, the
Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and the women of the household.”
“No one else? What of the two Farangi ladies who took shelter here
last night, and their servant?”
“Truly the wisdom of my lord is as that of Solomon the son of David!
The Farangi ladies are indeed within, the guests of my master’s
house.”
“And their servant--is he also within?”
“Nay, my lord! A man behind the curtain! Truly the fellow was in this
hall before the entrance of my lord, but seeing that there was
fighting on foot, doubtless he stole away to hide himself, or it may
be he is even among the slain,” lied Zulika glibly.
“I will have search made and a watch kept, and if I find thou hast
deceived me----” he laid his sheathed sword lightly across Zulika’s
neck, so that she cowered nearer to the floor. “Thou and the children
of the impostor may remain here for the present, until the will of his
Highness be known; only see to it that ye make no attempt to escape or
to send warning to those who are away. But the Farangi women bid to be
ready to start on a journey an hour before dawn, for they must go
elsewhere.”
“My lord would not slay the women?” ventured the trembling Zulika,
with unexpected courage.
“What is that to thee? Enough that they must be kept in safety until
it may be seen of what use they are.”
“My lord’s handmaid will carry his commands,” responded Zulika, and
returned with her alarming message behind the curtain, where the other
servants filled the air with wailing on hearing it. Lady Haigh bade
them peremptorily to be still, and turned to Wazira Begum, who was
still kneeling beside her brother, assiduously keeping the cloths on
his forehead wet, in the way Penelope had shown her.
“Let us talk this over as friends,” she said, “for we are in much the
same position. We are to be kept as hostages in order to extract
concessions from Major Keeling, and you and your brother, Wazira
Begum, as a means of bringing pressure upon the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. At
least that shows that he has not been killed or defeated, but I
suppose he might return here and be lured into an ambush at any
moment. Now think; Murtiza Khan cannot possibly reach Alibad before
daylight to-morrow, even if he is not seen and wounded or captured.
Major Keeling would never attack a place like this by daylight, so
that even if he sent a force to our help at once, we could not be
relieved until to-morrow night. Is there any chance of barricading
ourselves in the zenana, and holding out for all those hours?”
“Nay,” said Wazira Begum wearily; “we might block up the door with
charpoys, and ye might refuse to go out; but they would only need to
set fire to the barricade, and then they would break in and slay us
all. Do as thou wilt. Who am I to give commands, when thou art
present? It shall be done as thou sayest, and my brother and I, and
these women, can but die in the hope of saving thee and thy sister.”
“Nonsense!” said Lady Haigh. “If there’s no chance of defending
ourselves successfully, of course we won’t attempt it. You know that
perfectly well, Wazira Begum, or you wouldn’t have put your lives into
my hands in that despairingly confiding way.”
The girl looked slightly ashamed. “Thou art better to me than I
deserve, better than I thought thee,” she said. “Were it not for my
brother, I would refuse to give you up; but how can I bring death upon
him? I will send my handmaid Hafiza with you, to wait upon you and to
be your interpreter with the men sent to guard you, for ye are great
ladies, and must not speak with them face to face. Also ye shall have
bedding, and such other things as this place can supply and ye may
desire. And forgive me that I can do no more, for truly woe is come
upon this house, and the shadow of death.”
She broke into loud wailing again, in which the other women followed
her, and Lady Haigh grew angry.
“Penelope, lie down here and try and get some rest. Wazira Begum, as
you are good enough to lend us bedding, please let Hafiza get it out
and have it ready to strap on the horses. And tell me, had we better
wear veils like yours instead of our hats?”
“Nay, ye would be known everywhere as Farangis by your tight garments,
and your manner of sitting on one side of your horses,” said Wazira
Begum. “But this is what ye must do.” She unfastened the gauze veil
from Lady Haigh’s hat and doubled it. “Now no man can see clearly what
manner of woman is beneath.”
This settled, Lady Haigh sat down on the floor, and leaning against
the wall, prepared to get a few hours’ uncomfortable and more or less
broken sleep, while Hafiza was assisted in her preparations by the
other women, who were all much relieved that they had not been chosen
to attend the visitors, and were anxious to administer the kind of
comfort which is easier to give than to receive. The disturbed night
seemed extraordinarily long, but at last the summons came from behind
the curtain. Wazira Begum bade farewell to her guests with something
of compunction, and pressed upon them a string of pearls, which might
serve as currency in case of need. The old women carried out the
bundles of bedding, which were tied on a horse in such a way that
Hafiza could perch herself on the summit of the load. Then Lady Haigh
and Penelope, disguised in their double veils, walked down the hall,
and found, to their delight, their own ponies awaiting them. Lady
Haigh looked over the harness critically before mounting from the
steps, and ordered one or two straps to be tightened--orders which
were obeyed, apparently with some amusement, by the men who stood by.
The leader of the enemy, who stood on the steps watching the start,
gave his final instructions to a man named Nizam-ul-Mulk, who was, it
seemed, to escort the ladies with ten men under him, and the gate was
opened. Lady Haigh, who was looking about for any chance of escape,
saw that every precaution was to be taken for the safe-keeping of the
prisoners. On the narrow mountain paths, where it was necessary to
ride in single file, there was always one of the guards between
herself and Penelope, and when the valley widened, the whole of the
escort closed up at once. Several small encampments were passed, from
which startled Nalapuris looked out as they heard the horses’ feet to
ask if Sinjāj Kīlin was coming; and it was clear that though the
enemy might be said to be occupying the hills, there would be no great
difficulty in dislodging them. Cowardly though they might be, however,
they had the upper hand at present, and Lady Haigh and Penelope felt
this bitterly when their party debouched from the hills about dawn,
and struck off across the desert towards the north-east, leaving the
great mass of the Alibad fort, touched with the sunrise, well to the
south.
“If they only knew!” sighed Lady Haigh. “Just across there, and we
here! How they would ride if they knew!”
“What is going to happen to us?” asked Penelope. They were riding side
by side now, in the midst of their guards.
“Well, the worst that could happen would be that we might be carried
right up into Central Asia, which all but happened to the captives in
the Ethiopian disaster,” said Lady Haigh, ignoring decisively
possibilities even darker, “and I suppose the best that could happen
would be that Major Keeling should make terms for us almost at once.”
“But if he had to make concessions, as you said? Ought we to want him
to do it?”
“Of course we oughtn’t to, and I don’t--but yet I do. Perhaps he
won’t. You see I know already how high-minded my husband can be where
I am concerned, but I don’t know what Major Keeling would be willing
to do for you.”
“I know. He would refuse, even if it tore his heart out.”
Lady Haigh looked at her curiously. “You seem to know him pretty
well,” she said. “Well, it’s something to feel that our poor little
fates won’t be permitted to weigh against the safety of the frontier.
But what nonsense we are talking!” as Penelope shuddered. “My dear,
don’t we know that those two men would invade Central Asia on their
own account if we were taken there, and bring us back in triumph?
Don’t let us pretend they’re Romans. They’re good Englishmen, and
would no more leave us to perish than turn Mohammedan!”
This robust faith, if a little unfortunate in the mode of its
expression, was very cheering, and Penelope withdrew her eyes from the
fast diminishing fort, and set her face sternly forward. But if there
was no sign of a force riding out from Alibad to the rescue, there was
a cloud of dust in front which showed that some one was approaching,
and the escort were visibly nervous. Seizing the bridles of the
ladies’ ponies they urged them aside behind a sandhill, and there
waited, gathered in a close group. It was a large company that was
coming, and the dust it made was sufficient to have prevented its
noticing the smaller party, so that it passed the sandhill without
turning aside. A sudden lull in the wind revealed the white mantles
and scarlet turbans of the men who composed it when they had gone some
distance.
“The Sheikh and his followers!” gasped Penelope. “They will go back to
Sheikhgarh and be captured.”
“Not if Murtiza Khan got through,” said Lady Haigh, trying to hide the
anxiety in her tone, “for Major Keeling would be certain to send some
one to intercept the Sheikh before he could reach the hills. No,” she
added acidly, in response to the gesture of Nizam-ul-Mulk, who had
tapped a pistol in his girdle significantly as he saw her gazing after
the riders, “we are not quite idiots, thank you. It wouldn’t be much
good to signal to the Sheikh, who doesn’t know anything about us, and
would never think of going out of his way on the chance of helping
some one in distress.”
“But he might have told them at Alibad, and they would have known
where we were,” suggested Penelope.
“And have come out to find us shot, which wouldn’t be much good,” said
Lady Haigh.
They rode on again after this brief halt, taking the direction of Fort
Shah Nawaz, but leaving it out of sight on the right hand. The dark
rocks which marked the mouth of the Akrab Pass were visible in the
distance on the left, and Lady Haigh expected that Nizam-ul-Mulk would
lead the way thither. But to her surprise, they still rode straight
on, leaving the pass on one side.
“Where are you taking us?” she could not refrain from asking him at
last.
“To Kubbet-ul-Haj. There is safe-keeping in Ethiopia for any Farangi
prisoner,” answered the man with an insolent laugh, and Lady Haigh
grew white under her veil.
“Ethiopia! That means Central Asia, then!” she said. “Never mind, Pen.
They’ll catch us up before we get there. We can’t possibly get farther
than the Ethiopian frontier to-night, if as far.”
Although she spoke rather to encourage Penelope than because she
believed what she said, Lady Haigh proved to be right. The discipline
of the guards seemed to disappear as they were farther removed from
their leader at Sheikhgarh; and at noon, thinking that all danger was
past, they insisted on a rest of two or three hours, despite the
remonstrances of Nizam-ul-Mulk. Hence, when evening came on, the
Ethiopian frontier was still an hour’s ride away, and they positively
refused to attempt to reach it that night, demanding that a camp
should be formed on a low hill covered with brushwood--an excellent
position both for concealment and for discerning the approach of an
enemy. Nizam-ul-Mulk was forced to yield. The horses were picketed in
a hollow on the Ethiopian side of the hill, a rude tent was pitched
for the ladies, and a due portion of the rough food of the escort sent
them through Hafiza. When the comfortless meal was over, they were
thankful to lie down, without undressing, on the _resais_ with which
Wazira Begum had supplied them; and Hafiza, at any rate, was soon
audibly, as well as visibly, asleep. But presently Penelope sat up and
said softly, “Elma, are you awake?”
“Ye-es,” responded Lady Haigh sleepily. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, do let us talk a little. I can’t sleep. Elma, if they should
separate us--if they are only pretending to go to sleep----”
“Nonsense! after such a day of riding they are as tired as I am, and
that’s saying a good deal. Don’t conjure up horrors.”
“But if they took us to different places! Oh, Elma, if I was alone
among these people I should die!”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t. You’d get on much better than you think.”
“I couldn’t do anything. You can say what you like to these people and
they obey you. No one would obey me.”
“Well, you conquered Wazira Begum, at any rate. I only made her hate
me, though she did what I told her.”
“But as long as you’re there, I feel safe--as if you were a man.”
“What a testimony! But, Pen, you’re horribly old-fashioned. You
shouldn’t be such a honeysuckle kind of girl--always leaning on some
one and clinging to them--and yet you are so obstinate in some ways. I
suppose it’s no good telling you to stand up for yourself, though. You
seem born to cling. Colin was your prop for a long time, and you let
him drag you out to India to marry Ferrers, whom you didn’t want, and
he very nearly succeeded. I suppose I’m the support just at present,
until Major Keeling comes to the front. He will be a good stout prop,
at any rate. I couldn’t stand his domineering ways, but I suppose you
like them.”
“Oh yes,” said Penelope thankfully. “You don’t know him. Elma----”
“I know you,” interjected her friend.
“Elma, doesn’t it seem extraordinary that it is only a few weeks since
I really wanted to die? It felt as if it was the only way of settling
things--as if I ought not to marry him, and yet couldn’t bear not
to--and now the only thing I care for is to see him again. I should be
perfectly happy----”
“It isn’t extraordinary at all--merely that you’ve come to your
senses. My dear, I was in love with Dugald once, you know----”
“But if we should never see them again, either of them! Oh, Elma, if
they should never find us! What do you think----?”
“I think you’ll have a touch of fever if you don’t try to go to sleep.
Listen to Hafiza. She is going among strangers, just like you and me,
but she doesn’t sit up and talk. Say your prayers, and lie down.”
“She can sleep because she has so little to lose, whatever happens. So
long as she was kindly treated, I suppose she could make herself happy
anywhere.”
“Well, I have about as much to lose as you have,” with a terrific
yawn, “and I should very much like to go to sleep.”
“I oughtn’t to be so selfish. But listen, Elma. We’ll take turns to
sleep, and then they can’t separate us. I will watch first.”
“Oh, very well. Wake me when you feel drowsy,” and Lady Haigh turned
over on her hard couch, and composed herself to sleep. When Penelope
roused her, however, it was not to take her turn at watching. She was
kneeling beside her, with her lips very close to her ear.
“Elma, wake up! Don’t say anything, but listen. Don’t you hear noises?
I’m sure something is going to happen.”