_THE OATH_
Faithfully Ahmad kept his word to the Rani. Through the black,
tempestuous night, he swept over the road to Shahpur. He recklessly
plunged into swollen torrents. He callously hurled himself upon
whatever obstacles lay in his path. Whirlwinds and stormbursts seemed
in sympathy with his furious nature, bearing him onward rather than
impeding his progress. Struggling, swearing, crashing in his wake,
the troopers followed as best they could. A horse falling through
sheer exhaustion, rider and beast were left to extricate themselves.
Another, carried away in the flood of a river, was, without a saving
effort, abandoned to his fate. To Ahmad, such incidents were only
manifestations of the Will of Allah, by which all men must die when
their appointed hour had come.
This exhibition of splendid recklessness was not without effect
upon the brave spirit of Prasad. With rigid features he strenuously
spurred forward at Ahmad's side. In his mind there gradually formed
an understanding of the value which the Rani placed upon the services
of the Mohammedan. It was like a bolt of lightning held in reserve, a
force to be controlled only with the greatest skill and prudence; yet
one that launched forth, burning to destroy, and oblivious of meeting
with destruction itself; a terrible and awe-inspiring object.
Seldom were words exchanged. A guttural oath occasionally burst from
the Mohammedan's lips as he found his way momentarily blockaded; an
exclamation of anger went forth upon the night as he glanced back over
his shoulder to discover that his pace had outstripped that of his
followers.
The sullen break of day found Ahmad Khan and his companions, shaggy,
dirt begrimed, with sodden garments, emerging from a ravine. At the
entrance, perched upon the summit of a rock, rose indistinctly in the
misty half light, the gray walls of the citadel of Shahpur.
He halted his men for a short space to enable stragglers to rejoin the
party, and to perform a religious act. In Ahmad's nature, there was
mingled with an absolute lack of human principle, a strange leavening
of superstitious reverence. The more villainous the project upon which
he was bent, the more scrupulous would he be in conforming to certain
outward observances of his religion. If a murder was to be accomplished
by the basest treachery, he would as fervently call down the blessing
of Allah upon the act, as if another were about to sacrifice himself in
some deed of true heroism.
He unrolled a small piece of carpet, and spread it upon the ground.
Then he knelt with his face toward the west, and remained a few minutes
in prayer.
"There is but one God and Mohammed is the Prophet of God," he solemnly
ejaculated at its conclusion.
Several of his troopers added an amen.
He rose and remounted.
He then carefully inspected the company, arranging them in double file.
This done to his satisfaction he cautiously led the way toward the
mouth of the ravine, taking advantage of such cover as was afforded by
the low underbrush and projecting spurs of rock.
Ahmad thus advanced into a narrow sinuous path leading up to the
main gate of the citadel, when he pressed forward so rapidly and
noiselessly, that he was demanding admittance of the keeper, before the
watchers on the walls had discerned his approach.
"Open there," he shouted, "to Ahmad Khan and the noble Prasad Singh,
bearing a message from the Rani of Jhansi."
Ahmad Khan! Ahmad Khan! A panic seized those within the gates roused
from their slumbers by the stentorian voice of the Mohammedan.
"Open dogs," he thundered, as his summons failed of an immediate
response.
"Noble lords," at last came a quavering rejoinder. "Maharaja Sadescheo
yet sleepeth. The gates cannot be opened without his order."
"Wake him then," cried the Mohammedan. "By God's holy Prophet, time
passes upon an urgent matter."
"Noble lords, that is impossible."
"Accursed jackals. Am I to batter down the gate. Go to thy master, and
if thou wilt, lay all the blame on Ahmad Khan. He will awaken quickly,
enough, if I mistake not," he added.
A short period elapsed, passed restlessly by Ahmad, when the voice was
again raised within the gate.
"Maharaja Sadescheo extends greeting. He would welcome the noble Ahmad
Khan and his followers but that the citadel is already over filled. If
the noble Ahmad Khan will enter unattended, then will Sadescheo gladly
see him."
Ahmad cast himself impulsively from the saddle.
"Thou wilt not accept this challenge, surely"? asked Prasad.
"Surely will I," the other retorted. "Thou wilt keep these fellows
here, and if I do not return or send for thee within an hour, thou
canst ask the reason by an assault upon the gate. But there is no
danger."
He passed through the massive door and found himself in a courtyard
filled with Sadescheo's recently collected soldiers. As he strode
inward fearlessly, they fell back before his grim and martial bearing.
His way made clear through these, he was conducted to a room in the
interior of the fortress to await the Maharaja.
With soldierly instinct Ahmad stepped to a window that commanded a
partial view of the defenses.
"A good position," he reflected, as his glance swept along the walls,
"and worth holding if garrisoned by a handful of Mohammedans instead of
this Hindu rabble. Sadescheo"!--
A smile broke upon his face.
"Sadescheo thinks to trick the Rani of Jhansi. By God! he little knows
with whom he has to deal. She would make a fit wife even for the
illustrious Dost Mohammed, the Lion of Afghanistan. I warrant there
is more in that bewitching form than most give credit for. Thus, for
the undoing of this accursed Prasad, will Ahmad for a time become her
humble slipper bearer. Allah! what is it in the girl that moves a man
in spite of himself."
A voice pronouncing his name interrupted the trend of his thoughts.
He turned abruptly to confront a man of past middle age, whose
weak features bore evidence of a life of sensual debauchery. With
outstretched hands Sadescheo greeted the Mohammedan.
"Thou hast come unexpectedly, and apparently without waste of time
upon the road, O Ahmad," he exclaimed, eyeing the Mohammedan's
travel-stained attire. Then in a lower tone, "Hast determined to assist
in ousting that chit of a girl from the Raj of Jhansi"?
Ahmad drew himself up to his full height as he replied haughtily.
"I have come from Her Highness the Rani to know the reason of your
collecting troops, and to demand a recognition of her authority."
"Come! come! Good Ahmad," the other rejoined. "It is early in the day
for pleasantry. It is a new thing for Ahmad Khan to joke."
"A joke," repeated Ahmad sternly. "By the Prophet's beard it is no
joke. On the Koran I have sworn to support the Rani."
The feeble smile on Sadescheo's face gave place to an expression of
dismay.
"Thou canst not mean this," he returned, "for but the other day thou
didst send a messenger agreeing to our plans."
"And to-day," retorted Ahmad threateningly, "I come in person to
denounce that same messenger as a liar. Briefly, good friend, it doth
not suit Ahmad Khan to oppose the Rani for the purpose of uplifting
Sadescheo."
"Then thou hast surely chosen an ill-fitting place to make the
declaration," replied the Maharaja significantly. "Perchance Ahmad Khan
may remain in Shahpur until he again finds it expedient to change his
mind. He does not seem to be aware that he speaks within the walls of
Sadescheo's fortress."
With a rapid movement Ahmad was at Sadescheo's side. Roughly he laid a
firm grasp upon the Maharaja's shoulder, while his disengaged hand fell
to the hilt of a dagger protruding from his girdle.
"Aye, and thou art in Ahmad's power," he muttered fiercely. "If he sees
fit to change his mind, that is his affair. If he orders thee to throw
open thy gates to his people, three hundred Afghans and as many of the
Rani's troopers, impatient to enter, yea or nay, and summon hither his
lieutenant, thou hadst better do it quickly, or he will open thy body
and toss forth thy chicken heart to swine. Art willing to follow such
advice, valiant Sadescheo"?
Sadescheo glanced timorously toward the open door. Within call were a
dozen armed retainers who at the raising of his voice would rush to
his assistance. But he knew full well that before they could reach his
side, Ahmad's dagger would be buried a foot deep in his breast. If in
turn, the Mohammedan were slain after he had made a pile of corpses
to fall upon, that would be little satisfaction to him personally. He
therefore called an attendant and gave the required order. For a moment
the servant hesitated. "Go," cried Sadescheo nervously. "Go do my
bidding, swiftly. What would you have now"? he asked of Ahmad.
"That my troops receive food and lodging for the day," replied the
other, "and that on my return to Jhansi to-night my lieutenant, Suliman
Abhas and a hundred Afghans replace your people on the walls of the
citadel. Further, thou wilt proclaim the Rani in _Darbar_ and hoist her
banner on the gate."
To this Sadescheo made a gesture indicative of enforced compliance.
Presently, heavy footsteps in the passage announced the approach of
Prasad and Ahmad's lieutenant.
Upon entering they glanced from Sadescheo, still held in Ahmad's grasp,
to their leader, and waited.
With grim ceremony he presented them to the Maharaja.
Sadescheo bade them a reluctant welcome.
"With your permission, noble sir," suggested Ahmad, "we will proceed
to your hall of audience. There the Rani's title will be proclaimed,
and we will rest upon our return to Jhansi."
Before an hour had passed the Rani of Jhansi's banner was flying
beside that of Sadescheo, and Ahmad's troops had replaced those of the
Maharaja on the walls.
That night the two nobles set forth on their return to the capital.
The burst of the monsoon in Jhansi had for the time passed over, so
they rode leisurely through the clear atmosphere. First, they discussed
the general prospects of the rebellion, then their successful descent
upon Sadescheo, and lastly the condition of their personal affairs.
"You carried your life upon the blade of your sword, when you entered
Sadescheo's fortress," remarked Prasad admiringly. "It was an intrepid
act."
Ahmad laughed carelessly.
"In truth no," he returned. "There are some men, I grant you, with
whom it would have been a venturesome thing to do. It would be a
dangerous trick to play upon such a one as Dost Mohammed, whose valour
and resource rise with the greater odds against him. But with this
Sadescheo"--
He uttered an exclamation of contempt as he concluded:
"Upon him you have but to frown, and he shivers from his turban to his
slippers."
They rode on in silence for some distance across a wide plain, the
troopers following in a long procession, phantom like by the light of
the moon.
Ahmad, apparently deep in thought, at last spoke in a reflective manner.
"Thou art a fortunate man, friend Prasad. Providence hath undoubtedly
taken thy affairs into her special keeping."
"How so"? the other asked. "If by casting obstacles at every turn of my
way she is doing me good service, then only am I the most fortunate of
men."
"Why, good comrade," returned Ahmad. "Is it not great fortune to stand
so high in the beautiful Rani's favor. What could man desire more"?
Prasad turned a glance quickly upon the Mohammedan, but his companion's
head was bent downward toward the pommel of his saddle.
"If I stand high in her favor," he replied, "then she well keepeth it a
secret."
"Dost thou not count it a favor"? asked the Mohammedan, "to be
appointed to the supreme command of her troops when many crave so
honorable a post."
"She hath not appointed me to any office," replied Prasad, "except upon
this expedition, which was owing to thy suggestion."
Ahmad raised his face upon which rested a well feigned look of surprise.
"Truly you astonish me," he exclaimed. "But the Rani is a prudent
woman, and doubtless waits a favorable moment to give it to thee. At
the _Darbar_ she will probably pronounce thy name in honor."
"I doubt it much," returned Prasad, "though I grant you she is a
mistress in the art of not making clear her mind."
"Tut, tut," ejaculated Ahmad soothingly. "Woman like, she is but
playing with thee awhile. But I know well she holdeth thee in high
esteem. How could she do otherwise than appreciate the gallantry of
so fine a soldier. For me," he added indifferently, "I possess little
influence with the Rani, and at any moment I may be called away to set
the Emperor's house in order. But when I make my report of this little
business, be assured I will not fail to keep thy name in mind. If a
humble word of mine can do thee service, it shall not remain unspoken."
The eyes of the two men met in a steady gaze. Upon the Mohammedan's
face stern and cold as it appeared, Prasad could detect no sign of
hidden motive. He had yielded homage to the man's reckless valor; might
there not, he argued, after all dwell beneath the rough exterior, a
generous nature, carried away at times by mad impulse.
"If thou wouldst do this for me," he returned, "thou wilt have placed
me under obligation of a life. To command the Rani's troops is now my
great ambition."
For an instant a sarcastic smile flickered about the Mohammedan's lips.
But it was gone before it could be detected.
"Gladly will I take an oath upon the holy book to do it," he answered.
"These officers of the Rani are well enough, but they lack that proper
martial spirit which, as a soldier, I have noted plainly in thy
conduct. For myself, my aims now lie elsewhere than in Jhansi; but even
were that not so, I would willingly yield to thee the office, as it is
but right a Hindu noble should command the forces of a Hindu queen."
"Ahmad," Prasad cried enthusiastically. "I have done thee an injustice.
More, I have ever done the same as those of thy religion. It is said a
Moslem can never be a friend. Henceforth I vow that such is false."
Ahmad bowed his head in acknowledgment of the other's confidence.
"Everyone hath an enemy," he replied, "who will misrepresent a good
intention. If influence of mine can do thee service, by the holy
_Kaaba_ I swear the Rani will go into _Darbar_ with but thy name upon
her lips.
"Come! The day breaks," he concluded, "and we are still some leagues
from Jhansi."
Again he halted to dismount and pray with his face toward holy Mecca.
Ahmad's devotions were of short duration. He concluded with a petition
to Allah to witness the truth in his heart. Then vaulting into the
saddle, he drove his spurs into his horse's flanks. With arms glinting
in the sunshine, at a canter, he bravely led the cavalcade.