_AHMAD RETURNS TO COURT_
The rains had burst over India with terrific force. Even the arid and
ever drought threatened State of Jhansi received a deluge. This soon
rendered the main lines of communication impassable, and cut Jhansi off
from the outside world.
Rumors only of stirring events reached the Rani's ears. In that
mysterious way, by which news in India seems to filter through
inanimate channels, she heard of the Foreigner's advance upon Delhi;
but of the course which they intended to pursue toward her own State,
she could obtain no reliable information. It appeared as if their
desperate need to strike a blow at the center of the revolt would leave
her unmolested for the present.
This was satisfactory as it gave her time to prepare for their return.
But her position was still precarious from danger near at hand.
In the city of Jhansi her authority was now unquestioned, even though
the rivalries among her retainers made it a delicate matter to enforce.
But in the remaining parts of the State, the nobles, uninfluenced by
her personality, were not so ready to submit to what they were inclined
to regard as the capricious rule of a girl. From similar instances
they feared the advent to power of some court favorite. More than one,
also, had claims of his own to urge forward to the prize that had
fallen into the Rani's grasp. With native caution they had waited for
the result of the _coup d'état_ before irrevocably declaring their own
hands.
Thus, with the exception of a few minor nobles, the Rani's proclamation
of her accession had been received by the Jhansi rajas throughout the
State in ominous silence. A disquieting report persistently reasserted
that the Maharaja Sadescheo, a cousin of the late Raja of Jhansi was
collecting troops near his fortress of Shahpur, for the purpose of
joining forces with the Peshwa. This did not deceive the Rani's alert
intelligence. A descent upon the city of Jhansi was, in her reckoning,
the Maharaja's more probable aim.
Under these circumstances she had prudently secured the gates and
ramparts of Jhansi with her own soldiers, leaving the fort and
cantonments without the city in the possession of Ahmad Khan, whose
sullen attitude she viewed with anxiety. While the Mohammedan noble
seemed to possess every evil trait to which mortal flesh is heir, she
fully appreciated the control of his ferocious bravery, as an awe
inspiring weapon to hold over the heads of those who yet disputed her
title.
His plea of sickness, as an excuse for his absence from her court,
if a ruse to screen other motives, was not confirmed by any sign of
action. She was led to hope, that by the use of subtle influence, his
allegiance might be retained without making too great a sacrifice to
his ambition.
How to accomplish this was the question of the hour.
The Rani was seated in one of her private apartments discussing the
news of the morning with Prasad, when Bipin entered. He paused within
the door, and glanced suspiciously at the Hindu noble.
"Well, learned Secretary," greeted Prasad affably, "Thy face seems
to reflect the scowl of the elements. Doth the weight of thy exalted
office press too heavily upon thy turban"?
"Thanks to the Rani's graciousness," returned Bipin, "my turban
rests lightly enough; and its folds well protect my ears," he added
significantly.
"He shall not imagine," thought Bipin, "that I am not forewarned of his
accursed design."
Prasad laughed good naturedly as he regarded the unusual size of the
secretary's head covering.
"It is almost large enough to protect thy nose as well, good Bipin," he
suggested.
The solemn expression on the secretary's face deepened as he received
what he believed to be sure confirmation of the evil lurking in
Prasad's mind.
"As the saying is, noble sir," he rejoined with an assumption of sage
gravity. "He who looks well to the roof of his house need trouble
little about an approaching storm."
"Truly Bipin, thou art a philosopher," remarked the Rani with a smile.
"Aye, always by thy favor, noble Lady," he answered.
"I keep a good watch not only upon my nose and ears, but upon all my
other possessions."
The secretary concluded this passage of words with a wary look directed
toward Prasad. He then advanced and delivered a missive to the Rani.
"From the Maharaja Sadescheo of Shahpur," he said, bowing. "A messenger
hath just delivered it at the palace."
The Rani took the letter eagerly.
"Ah," she exclaimed. "Now we shall know whether Sadescheo's newly
acquired martial spirit leads him to join the Peshwa. If I mistake
not, his avarice prompts him to cast longing eyes upon the revenues
of Jhansi. It is a treasure chest rather than honor which men like
Sadescheo crave."
She hastily opened the letter and gathered its contents.
"Go," she cried with a commanding air, to Bipin. "Go, but remain within
call, as I may need thy services."
When Bipin had retired, she handed the letter to Prasad.
"Read that, my Lord," she exclaimed. "We need no longer remain in doubt
as to Sadescheo's reason for collecting troops. He reminds me that as
the late Raja's cousin he is entitled to some voice in the settlement
of affairs, and that until I have been proclaimed in a _Darbar_ of the
Jhansi nobles, he cannot recognize my right to inherit the throne. The
fool! the fool"! she continued passionately. "How many of them are
there to be taught that the power of Lachmi Bai doth not rest upon the
will of nobles, but in her own spirit, and in the love of her people."?
Prasad, in turn, read the letter, and then tossed it contemptuously
from him.
"Who is this Sadescheo that presumes to question your authority"? he
demanded.
"Oh," she returned with a gesture of disdain. "Maharaja Sadescheo
possesses a fortress at Shahpur. He hath some followers; but he would
never have dared to address me in this fashion had Ahmad Khan remained
at my side. I fear he must have received some hint of the Mohammedan's
defection."
"Ah! Ahmad Khan! Ahmad Khan"! Prasad ejaculated impatiently. "His name
is ever sounding in my ears."
He rose abruptly and passed to one of the windows where he gazed
angrily out upon the lowering clouds, that swept across the sky, at
intervals drenching the land with cyclonic violence.
Then as if a resolution was suddenly formed in his mind, he returned to
the Rani's side and besought her in fervent accents.
"Fair Rani," he cried. "Why speakest thou so much of this Ahmad Khan?
Surely thou canst no longer hold him in thy favor. One look upon his
surly countenance and thou beholdest treachery marked by every line. Of
this, recently thou hast had ample proof. But give me, ah, dear lady, I
implore thee, give into my hands the command of thy troops, and thou
shalt see how quickly I will subdue this presumptuous Maharaja."
The Rani smiled approvingly upon his eager countenance, but shook her
head negatively.
"Prasad, well do I believe in thy devotion and courage, but thou art
hasty in judgment. Consider how rash would be thy action. Thou wouldst
carry my troops away to Shahpur, and leave me--to whom wouldst thou
leave the defense of the city? To Ahmad's soldiers? Nay surely! No,"
she added thoughtfully. "In my mind all such work without the city must
fall to Ahmad's lot. But how to control his savage nature, for the
moment, I see not clearly."
Prasad again paced to a little distance. An expression of keen
disappointment settled on his face.
"Nay Prasad," she enjoined in a gentle voice. "Be not out of humor with
me. Thou dost not rightly see these things. Thou dost not understand
what bitter jealousy would be stirred up among my own people, if I gave
to thee that which many worthy officers covet most. Ahmad may be a
greater villain than even thou wouldst have him, but forget not he goes
to battle with greater zest than to a banquet. Bloodshed and rapine are
his calling, and few there are who do not shudder at his name. Ah! If I
could only send him forth to this impertinent Sadescheo."
"Is it possible thou, too, art afraid of him"? suggested Prasad.
A laugh of derision escaped the Rani's lips.
"Lachmi Bai afraid of Ahmad--of anyone? Nay, you know her not, O
Prasad."
The Hindu noble's intense jealousy prompted him to an ungallant retort.
He turned quickly toward her and muttered between his clenched teeth:
"Perchance thou art in love with the Mohammedan"?
She rose to her feet and stood confronting him; her form quivering with
emotion; her cheeks aflame; her eyes flashing threateningly; her breast
throbbing with the insult.
"Dare not thou ever speak to me again such thought," she retorted
sternly. "Dost think that I, of noble birth and lofty caste, would
descend to gratify the passion of an accursed Moslem, even if he could
place upon my head an empire's crown. Dost think--Ah, Prasad," she
continued in a softer tone. "Thou art surely out of thy mind to speak
thus to me. Thou hast forgotten that although I am the Rani, I am still
a woman. I did not think this of thee."
Her voice quavered as the passion roused by the insult to her dignity
gave place to a realization of the wound made, by one, for whom she had
come to form a tender regard.
Prasad glanced at the eyes from which the fire had been quenched by
gathering tears. He was seized with contrition, and cast himself
abjectly at her feet.
"Ah! Beast that I am," he cried in accents of self reproach. "How dare
I throw a doubt upon thine honor? Forgive me. Forgive my folly, thou
dear one. Surely thou knowest it is my love for thee, which maketh me
hate the very name of any other uttered by thy matchless lips. I vow it
is my only desire to do thee service, aye, if it be the will of God, to
give my life for thee."
She rested a hand gently upon his shoulder, and gazed down upon him
with affection.
"This time thou art forgiven," she returned. "But distress me not so
again, my Prasad. Thou shall yet do me not unrequited service, if thou
canst be unresentful of the means I am compelled to use to make my will
obeyed. If thou seest me take in hand a two edged sword, be assured it
is the best weapon I can find to parry disloyalty in both Hindu and
Mohammedan."
"So be it, fair lady," he replied. "Thou art my will, my life."
He rose to his feet and for the moment was tempted by an uncontrollable
desire to enfold her in his arms. He took a hurried pace forward, but
the act was prevented by the entrance of a woman servant.
"My Lady Rani," the latter announced. "Ahmad Khan hath come to the
palace. He urgently craves an audience with your Highness."
The Rani's face expressed welcome surprise.
"So," she cried. "Ahmad returns to caress the hand that sways his
destiny. Fierce beast that he is. I--I am his mistress, aye, his master.
"Come," she added, beckoning to Prasad. "Be watchful of thy temper, O
good friend."
When the Rani entered the room in which Ahmad was waiting, he saluted
her with profound reverence. Thrice he made a courtly _salaam_ at a
respectful distance. In his outward manner there was no sign of the
arrogance which had marked his last abrupt entrance into her palace.
Whatever conclusion the Rani drew from the glance directed toward
him, she extended a friendly greeting. "Thou art welcome, Ahmad," she
exclaimed, intimating her pleasure that he should draw nearer. "Thou
art ever welcome to the Palace of the Rani. I trust thou art recovered
from thy sickness."
"Noble Lady," he replied, as if with an effort. "The physician had
enjoined a longer period of confinement to my room; but the news from
Shahpur made me hasten to thy side."
The Rani started.
"Hast thou heard from Sadescheo then"? she asked wistfully.
"Of him rather than from him, noble Lady," replied Ahmad. "Sadescheo
gathers troops about his fortress, so it is thy humble servant's advice
that thou dost, without loss of time, dispatch a strong body to learn
his reason."
The Rani turned a searching look upon the Mohammedan.
He met her gaze unflinchingly.
[Illustration: "Then will I set forth to bring this dog of a Maharaja
to his senses"?--Page 57.]
"Noble Rani," he petitioned. "Thou hast good cause to doubt my faith
and word. But, gracious Lady, hear my explanation. True is it that
Bahadur Shah commanded me to protect the Government of Jhansi, but
surely for thy sake. My people were carried away by their zeal and
triumph over the Foreigners. They were guilty of an offense against thy
authority. In the same enthusiasm of the hour I, too, lost control of
my proper reverence for thy person. For this, noble Rani, I do seek thy
pardon; and as evidence of my regret, I beg that thou wilt direct me to
march instantly with three hundred Afghan troopers, who have arrived
this morning without the city, and demand submission of this Sadescheo.
Be assured if he does not comply speedily, I will rout his people like
sheep before a band of wolves. In chains, at my horse's hoofs, will I
drag him and his relatives hither."
While Prasad gazed with wonder at the Mohammedan's altered manner, the
Rani assured him that the past had already been forgotten.
"Then will I set forth for Shahpur, noble Rani," he asked, "to bring
this dog of a Maharaja to his senses"?
"Not so hastily, my Lord," the Rani answered thoughtfully. "The sword
once out of its sheath, the fight is on, and who knows what a turmoil
we may stir up in the state. Wiser it would seem to me, to overawe
Sadescheo by a display of greater force. How many people, think you,
hath he already collected to his support"?
"Noble Lady," replied the Mohammedan, "I know, nor care not. But give
to me the order and with a hundred Afghans to every thousand of his
people few will remain in Shahpur to tell of Ahmad's visit."
"Ahmad, good friend," replied the Rani authoritatively. "That must not
be. Well do I know and appreciate thy courage, but bloodshed among
ourselves is what I strive to avoid."
"Better to crush the cobra before it raises its head," he remarked
significantly.
"Aye, but I would rather that with thy Afghan horsemen, thou dost take
an equal number of my troopers. Then will Sadescheo perceive that both
Hindu and Mohammedan are united in my cause, and will submit without
resort to force."
Ahmad appeared to coincide with her argument.
"Thou speakest ever wisely, O Rani," he returned. "But in such event
might not I ask that the noble Prasad Singh here, doth lead thy troops,
if he will deign the comradeship of so rough a man at arms."
Prasad looked up eagerly at the unexpected request, and implied
compliment. He began to view Ahmad in a different light.
"With the Rani's permission, gladly will I do so," he acquiesced.
The Rani perceived that Prasad's presence with the expedition might act
as a restraining influence, as well as a safeguard upon the Mohammedan.
She gave her consent readily.
"Thou wilt take three hundred of my horsemen," she addressed Prasad,
"and accompany Ahmad Khan to Shahpur. Upon thy return a _Darbar_ shall
be held in which I will make the chief appointments in the state."
She then turned to Ahmad and asked if it would be possible for him to
reach Shahpur in the present state of the weather.
"Fair Lady," replied the Mohammedan. "Have I not fought among the
Afghan passes when the winter snows were tinged a bloody red. Have I
not chased Kurd horsemen into their bleak fastnesses. Such squalls as
these but refresh the mettle of our steeds. Fear not, at daybreak,
Ahmad Khan will break his fast with Sadescheo."
"Then farewell, my Lords," the Rani cried. "Go, terrify Sadescheo as
much as thou wilt, but, remember, draw not the sword unless thou art
compelled as thou regardest my favor."
Ahmad saluted and retired first from her presence. Prasad was about to
follow, when he paused a moment.
"What are thy commands"? he asked in a low tone, as if he expected an
order yet to be disclosed.
"Be watchful," she replied. "For the present he may be trusted,
because"--
A smile of triumph broke upon her face as she concluded--
"If thou dost love the Rani, remember her command."
She passed to a window and watched the two nobles mount their chargers.
Her spirit was stirred by the sight of their martial bearing.
"Ah"! she sighed regretfully. "Ah! How I would like to be one of them.
To be a man and ride forth sword in hand, to battle; to hear the cannon
roar, and mingle with the clash of arms. Perhaps, who can tell, some
day the Rani may command her troops in person."
Then her thoughts took another channel.
"Sadescheo," she exclaimed. "Sadescheo! Poor, foolish, coward. I have
no fear how he will act when the dawn finds Ahmad demanding admittance,
in my name, at the gates of Shahpur."