_HOW AHMAD KEPT HIS OATH_
Ahmad returned alone to the Rani's palace. To avert all suspicion of
his conduct, he dismissed his Afghans to the cantonments on approaching
the city. With the plea of furthering Prasad's interest, he had advised
the Hindu noble to absent himself when the report of their expedition
was made. It would be difficult, he explained, to properly advocate the
claim of another, if the person chiefly concerned were present.
Prasad clearly perceived the force of the Mohammedan's suggestion. He
relied implicitly upon the other's good faith, and readily acquiesced.
"Make my best _salaams_ to the divine Rani," he enjoined Ahmad on
parting, "and say that I will come to her side as soon as I have
changed my attire for garments more suitable to the presence of a
queen."
Ahmad vowed that he would leave no compliment unsaid on Prasad's behalf.
"In truth," he reflected, as he proceeded on his way, "I may be wrong,
but this Rani of ours seems rather to prefer the smell of powder to the
most delicate perfume of Teheran. I fancy the courtier finds less favor
in her eyes than the man-at-arms. Ah what a treasure! What an _houri_.
She must, by the God of Islam, she shall be mine, if I am compelled to
play a hundred different parts in turn."
As Ahmad dismounted, the beggar who had petitioned everyone entering
the palace that morning, ceased his cry for alms. He crouched further
into his corner as instinct told him it was the fierce Mohammedan at
hand--one whose boast was that he neither feared nor pitied any human
being.
Ahmad remarked the beggar's action.
"Thou poor wretch," said he in a voice into which he threw as much
compassion as he could assume. "Art dumb now as well as blind."?
Surprise was depicted on the face of the beggar, who had learned by
past experience to expect a curse if he ventured to address Ahmad Khan.
"Noble Lord," he faltered. "Is it truly the voice of the great Ahmad
that I hear"?
"Whose voice else"? demanded the Mohammedan in return.
The beggar shrugged his shoulders.
"Lord I know not," he answered.
Ahmad cast a small coin at the beggar's feet, and ascended the palace
steps.
On the porch Bipin had been an interested spectator of the scene.
"Blessed Devi," he reflected. "What next will happen? Perchance we
shall behold Ahmad Khan robed as a _Mollah_ calling his people to
prayer, from the balcony of a minaret. Everyone seems to be what he
is not. To think that the well-looking Prasad should possess so
villainous a heart, and the black Mohammedan display compassion for the
unfortunate."
Bipin was still in a most unhappy frame of mind. That morning another
circumstance had occurred fraught with ill-omen. A white cat bereft
of one eye had persistently endeavored to sharpen its talons in his
legs. To fathom the significance of the beast's actions, Bipin had
promptly repaired to his friend the astrologer, who for a monetary
consideration, had assured his client that they betokened the swift
unfolding of Prasad's design. As a consequence, Bipin had armed himself
with an ancient and rusty flint lock pistol, the massive butt of which
protruded from his waistband.
The weapon at once attracted Ahmad's notice.
"What," he cried with gruff humor. "What do I behold? The worthy Bipin
Dat, the man of peace, armed for mortal combat."
"Illustrious Lord," returned Bipin gravely. "When every man goeth
armed, he is a fool who doth not follow the prevailing fashion."
"True, O Secretary," returned Ahmad, laying a familiar though heavy
hand upon the other's shoulder. "Come, I like thee all the better for
thy display of spirit. Soon thou wilt be wielding a sword with the best
Afghan in my troop."
"And why should I not," rejoined Bipin. "One need not be born in a
fortress to make a good fighter."
Ahmad threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Bipin," he replied,
"I am inclined to think thou hast mistaken thy calling. Thou shouldst
have been a soldier. Come! I will beg a commission for thee from Her
Highness, so that thou mayest win the title, _Singh_."
"Not so fast, good sir," replied Bipin. "In dangerous times arms are
well enough for protection, but he who makes a profession of exchanging
blows receives too many for my liking."
Ahmad laughed again. "Well! well! Bipin," he exclaimed. "I make no
doubt when the moment comes thou wilt acquit thyself with the best of
us. But in the meantime I would see the Heaven endowed Rani."
Bipin turned, and beckoned Ahmad to follow. He led the way into the
palace.
The Rani had feared that in spite of the solemn injunction she had laid
upon Ahmad, his uncontrolled nature might have led him into some overt
act against Sadescheo. She was relieved, early in the report, to learn,
that he had managed to enforce her authority upon the Maharaja without
igniting a racial conflagration within her territory.
"Ahmad," she cried with a display of satisfaction. "Thou hast done well
indeed. How can I reward thy services sufficiently"?
"Noble Rani," he answered. "Thy approval of my actions is all the
recompense I ask."
A momentary expression of added relief crossed the Rani's face.
She was afraid he might demand that which his soldierly qualities
entitled him to claim, but which she still hesitated to give.
"If all others were only like thee," she returned, "how much easier
would be my lot, how much more secure would be our position."
"Fair Lady," resumed Ahmad. "My position is uncertain, for I know not
how soon I may be called away to sharpen the blunted teeth of Bahadur
Shah's overfed soldiers. Wrangling among themselves over the plunder
that has fallen into their hands at Delhi, they will scatter to the
jungle like a band of jackals at the voice of the Foreign hunter. But
if Ahmad Khan might presume to offer the great Rani some advice in
certain matters, he would consider himself well repaid for any service
he has rendered."
"Gladly will I hear thee, friend Ahmad," acquiesced the Rani.
"Principally is it," continued Ahmad, "in reference to the offices thou
wilt doubtless make in _Darbar_ to-morrow. Above all things it would be
advisable to appoint a commander of the troops, to whom both thy Hindu
and Mohammedan subjects will look with respect and confidence. If thou
hast determined this already, then will the voice of thy humble servant
remain silent."
"No Ahmad," returned the Rani thoughtfully. "I have not done so as yet.
That matter troubles me more than all else. There are so many worthy
aspirants that it is difficult to select the one who would suit the
office best. Willingly will I listen to thy advice."
"Then, noble Rani," Ahmad proceeded, "Taking into account the
conflicting aspects of the question, the man to be chosen must possess
more than one qualification. Courage and daring must first of all
be his birthright, but equally important is a knowledge of military
strategy--none the less valuable if intuitive rather than acquired
by experience, and in which rapidity of action must be the outward
manifestation of an alert mind. To these must be added firmness of
character to enforce discipline even to the point of seeming cruelty,
holding human life in his own person and in that of others as of no
account when necessary, yet not unmindful of the needs of his soldiers
whose affection he will thereby gain in return. If, further, he should
possess youth and a gallant bearing it will be to his advantage, for
the trooper is ever the more eager to follow a captain of distinguished
presence. If he possesses these qualities, noble Rani, even though
thy selection were to fall upon a comparative stranger to the state,
be assured thou wouldst act most wisely. Such a one I dare to have in
mind."
Unconsciously Ahmad had faithfully portrayed the character as yet
undisplayed of the girl before whom he stood.
In the pause which ensued it was evident the Rani was mentally
reviewing the faces of those known to her who would be most likely to
coincide with Ahmad's description.
"Ah"! she exclaimed at last. "Dost thou refer to Prasad Singh"?
A look of slight astonishment broke upon Ahmad's face.
"Prasad Singh"! he ejaculated. "Noble Lady," he protested, "for aught
I know to the contrary Prasad Singh _may_ possess all these qualities
and more. Untried in any important affair, he _may_ prove to be a great
captain, though in our little ride to Shahpur, but for the banter of
his rough companion, I think he would more than once have turned back.
But Prasad surely is a good comrade and a handsome fellow, even if his
name doth not hover on my lips."
"Whose name dost thou have in mind, then"? asked the Rani somewhat
perplexed.
"It is the young officer Dost Ali, noble Lady," replied Ahmad
confidentially. "Thou wilt have heard his father was a Maratha who was
driven into exile by the Foreigners, and dying left his young son to
the protection of the illustrious Dost Mohammed. Brought up by such a
leader, he has well learned the trade of arms. By birth a Hindu and a
Mohammedan by adoption, both factions in the state might well unite to
serve under him. Moreover, such action on thy part would surely please
the great Amir of Afghanistan, some of whose troopers are now a part
of thy forces, and whose doubtful attitude toward the Foreigners might
thereby be determined in support of India's cause."
The Rani turned from Ahmad and gazed out of a window pensively. There
was forming quickly in her mind an ulterior object that might be
promoted by following Ahmad's suggestion. Among her older officers
there was a marked disposition to regard her opinion in military
affairs lightly, as that of a mere girl whose judgment in such matters
could be of no value. A younger man, susceptible to her personal charm,
would, she thought, be more likely to follow, unhesitatingly, the
dictates of her will.
"Thou hast observed the young officer of whom I speak, my Rani"? Ahmad
asked with a shade of anxiety in his voice, as he waited on her answer.
"Truly I have," she answered. "I have remarked him well several times.
I like his manner and appearance. There is much discernment in what
thou sayest. For a space I will think over it, and to-morrow make known
my decision."
Ahmad _salaamed_ low and withdrew from her presence.
So far, he was satisfied with the favorable view the Rani seemed to
take of his covert plan of installing a _protégé_ of his own in one of
the most important offices of the government, and the deeper project of
eventually destroying his rival by that means.
The Rani proceeded to an inner court, and called her chief waiting
woman to her side.
"Rati," she began. "I am curious to know what other women--the ladies
of the _zananas_--think of me. Tell me, O Rati, thou who learnest such
things, what is the opinion in such places of Lachmi Bai"?
The girl looked nonplussed.
"Speak truly," enjoined the Rani. "Flattery enough I can have for the
wish."
The girl's uneasiness increased visibly.
"Noble Rani. They say. They say"--she hesitated.
"Yes, what do they say"? the Rani demanded impatiently.
"That thou art well gifted, O noble one," the girl replied evasively.
The Rani turned a look of displeasure upon the girl. "I did not ask for
that," she spoke authoritatively. "Tell me what else do they say of me"?
"Some affirm that thou art as beautiful as the opening lotus, but
others"--
The girl broke off timidly.
"Others," concluded the Rani with a smile. "Others are afraid for their
sweethearts, aye Rati"?
"Perchance, noble Lady," acquiesced the girl.
The Rani's humor displayed itself in a silvery laugh that was echoed by
the walls of the court.
"Rati," she commanded, "what more do they say"?
"O great one," petitioned the girl, "urge me not in this manner, lest
thou become offended."
"Offended surely will I become unless thou doest as I bid thee."
The girl paused a moment, then proceeded fearfully.
"They say, O Rani, that thou art vain of thy beauty, and forgettest
thy modesty as a Hindu woman by so openly consorting with soldiers and
gallants."
"Say they so," the Rani cried passionately, stung to the quick by the
implication.
The girl fell at the Rani's feet and implored her not to visit
punishment upon an unwilling offender's head.
"Pardon, O Queen. Thou didst force me," she besought fervently.
"I am not angry with thee, poor girl," the Rani replied in a softened
tone. "But while my actions are seen by all, to what do many of these
_zanana_ beauties stoop? The shutters of their windows can best tell. I
will show them, these women of such fine sensibilities, how the Rani,
for all her pride, observes a custom too much falling into disuse among
the rich and great. I have heard that my honored _guru_[3] cometh to
aid me with advice, that he even now approaches Jhansi. Go, therefore,
order my bearers, so that I may go forth to receive him with all the
respect due his office."
The girl rose, and departed to obey the Rani's behest.
The Rani raised a hand wearily to her forehead.
"So much discussion to appease," she murmured, "so much jealousy and
envy among those who should assist, rather than thwart the only one
who dared to do what has been accomplished. Love! Ah, only it seems do
the poor and afflicted truly love the Rani. Even Prasad, who vows by
all things sacred that my image beatifies his sleep, hath ever a favor
uppermost in mind."
Presently a state _duli_[4] with curtains to screen the occupant from
view, was carried to the entrance of the palace.
To the surprise of her servants the Rani came forth without her
_burkha_, or long mantle, invariably worn by native ladies of rank to
conceal the whole person in public.
She promptly ordered the curtains of the _duli_ to be removed.
For a moment her servants hesitated to comply. Never before did they
recollect such an order to have been given.
"What," she cried. "Dost thou not hear my command? Take those hangings
away. I am not a Mohammedan, but a Hindu Rani in my own right. Of old
time our princesses were not afraid to show their faces to the people.
It is my pleasure that they shall know well the features of Lachmi Bai."
The curtains were hurriedly removed. The Rani entered her chair, and
surrounded by her servants was borne in the direction of the city gate,
through which it was expected her _guru_ would enter.
At the head of the procession, the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, marched
with pompous dignity. Against all contingencies, he had prudently
further armed himself with a long sword, that trailed in the dust at
his side, and made him an awe inspiring object to the beggars that
chanced in his way.
As the procession passed through the streets, the people saluted the
Rani with terms of affection. Many turned to catch a glimpse of her
face.
"See," they cried. "The Rani of Jhansi fears not the gaze of our eyes."
It had gone little more than half the distance to the gate, when it was
met by a bullock cart in which rode an old man of venerable aspect.
The Rani seemed to instantly recognize his features. She commanded her
bearers to halt.
"It is my dear _Guru_," she cried. "Ah, how glad I am to see him."
On his part the old man recognized the rich liveries of the servants
as those of his godchild, the Rani. With an effort he dismounted from
his cart and would have prostrated himself before her, had she not
anticipated his action.
She alighted quickly and knelt at his feet. She embraced them
affectionately, and cried in a voice which all might hear:
"O _Guru_, live forever. Grant a blessing to thy godchild, Lachmi Bai."
For a moment the old man's face reflected the astonishment of the crowd
that had gathered. That she should thus humble herself in public was
certainly a surprising act. But its significance was not lost upon the
people, who, as the old man raised her in his arms tenderly, called
down a thousand blessings on her head.
The first greetings over, the _Guru_ was about to again climb into his
rickety vehicle, when the Rani interposed. She insisted that he take
her place in the _duli_.
At first, the old man demurred at so great an honor being accorded him.
But the Rani was persistent.
"Before, I have ever met thee, dear _Guru_," she cried, "as but a poor
captive in Jhansi. Now that I am the Rani, I desire my people shall see
I am not unmindful of the ancient customs of our race."
Thus she followed on foot behind her _Guru's_ chair, as the procession
returned to the palace.