_WHAT BIPIN OVERHEARD_
Bipin Dat was returning from his morning prayers at the temple of
Vishnu absorbed in thought. His brow was puckered, his eyes directed
toward the ground, as he made his way slowly through the press in the
bazaar. In his mind serious doubt had arisen regarding the power of the
good tempered God of the great middle caste to avert the calamity which
the astrologer persistently reasserted was suspended over his head.
Manifestly, it was useless, he reasoned, to continue his offerings
at the shrine of a deity, who either could or would not protect him,
when the face of some other of the innumerable personages of the
Hindu pantheon was turned with vindictive anger upon his career. The
difficulty was to discover the God to be propitiated, as by an unlucky
chance he might overlook the very one causing him so much unhappiness.
Truly it was a perplexing situation for the worthy secretary. He almost
wished he were a Mohammedan with only one God from which to choose.
With unbounded pride ever directing his vision to impossible heights,
he had come to believe that eventually he might forsake the God of his
birth and assume the right to pay tribute to Siva the mystical God of
the Brahmans; but clearly this was not the hour for the worship of a
deity enveloped in an abstract philosophy. A man with his ears and
nose, if not his life, in momentary danger is inclined to resort to a
more tangible incarnation of divine power, and possibly wrath. With
terror enthroned in his soul, what more human than that he should turn
to Siva in that deity's non-Aryan form, as the awe inspiring God of the
mass of the people, or his wife the bloody fury, the serpent crowned
Kali. On the morrow he determined to prostrate himself covertly in
the temple of the third person of the great Hindu Triad, and see if a
better result might not be obtained. He heartily wished he was within
reasonable distance of a shrine of holy Mother Ganges, for assuredly
immersion in the waters of the sacred river, could not fail to appease
all the Gods, by this one supreme act of devotion.
So deeply absorbed was Bipin in this all important problem, that he had
failed to more than casually notice the actions of a small boy with
well fattened limbs, displayed to somewhat unnecessary advantage by a
string tied round his waist with a charm attached as his sole approach
to clothing.
At every few steps taken by the secretary, the small boy ran forward
and interposing his chubby form, salaamed respectfully.
Several times Bipin had stepped to one side under the impression that
the boy's intention was merely to show respect for one of such exalted
station, but at last becoming conscious of the youngster's persistency,
Bipin halted and frowned down upon him threateningly.
"How now, boy"? he asked sternly. "What do you mean by continually
getting in my way"?
"Great Secretary Sahib," replied the boy. "I am the son of Mohurran
Goshi."
"_Wah_"! exclaimed Bipin. "So you are the son of Mohurran Goshi. Well!
what does the son of Mohurran Goshi mean by repeatedly making of
himself a stumbling block for my feet"?
"Lord Protector of the Poor," replied the boy deferentially. "My father
bade me seek thee urgently with the message that thou art to repair to
his house, without fail, two hours after sunset."
"Thy father bade thee tell me that I am to come to his house two hours
after sunset," repeated Bipin reflectively. "Did he say for what
purpose, dutiful son of Mohurran Goshi"?
"Not he, great sir," replied the boy, _salaaming_.
Bipin thought for a moment. It was possible that the astrologer had
discovered a charm that would forever confound the machinations of the
accursed Hindu noble.
"What answer shall I take from the great Secretary Raja"? asked the boy
with a twinkle of innate cunning.
Bipin gazed approvingly on the lad who flattered his vanity by the use
of such high sounding titles.
"Thou art a well favored youth," he remarked, "and properly trained in
the respect due to people of importance. Go, tell thy learned father,
that I will be at his door at the hour appointed."
As Bipin took a step forward the boy again interposed his person with
outstretched hand.
"A present, Secretary Raja," he cried. "A present."
"Ah, a present," returned the secretary. "What now do you want with a
present"?
"To buy sweetmeats, noble Lord," the boy answered.
Bipin discovered a small coin in his waistband, and gave it to the
astrologer's son.
The boy _salaamed_ his thanks, and danced off to a nearby stall, making
a sly grimace at the vanishing back of the Rani's worthy secretary.
A little before the time set by the astrologer, Bipin urged a matter of
importance as an excuse for his absence from the palace, and directed
his steps toward Mohurran Goshi's humble abode.
He found the astrologer in a state of suppressed excitement.
"There is not a moment to lose, worthy Secretary," said he. "Shortly
thou wilt be in possession of information that will enable thee to
frustrate thine enemy for all time. With it, thou canst repair to the
Rani and ask any reward at her hands. But be careful not to disclose
the source of thy information, or thou wilt surely fail in thy object.
Come, follow quickly, and hold thy peace at whatever thou mayest see or
hear, or our lives would go out as a torch flung into a pond."
Mohurran Goshi rapidly led the Rani's secretary by dark, narrow alleys,
to one of the gates of the city, and thence out a short distance
along a by-path to a small hut secluded amid a clump of trees. The
absence of a light and the usual yelping of mongrel dogs, suggested
the inference that the place was, at least, temporarily uninhabited.
Mohurran Goshi again enjoined the strictest silence upon Bipin and bade
him remain in the shadow of an out-building, while he went forward
apparently to reconnoiter. Bipin watched his guide approach the door
cautiously and listen. In a few minutes the astrologer returned
stealthily, and beckoned Bipin to follow. He led Bipin round to the
rear of the house and halted beside an open window. From within two
voices could be heard in conversation, for the greater part in an
unintelligible undertone, but at intervals rising so that they could be
plainly overheard.
"Dost make out who it is that is speaking"? the astrologer asked in a
whisper.
"One voice rises familiarly on my ears," returned the secretary.
"Hush"! enjoined the astrologer. "It is that of thine enemy, Prasad
Singh. Wait patiently and listen."
Bipin shivered. A groan of terror was only suppressed by the greater
fear of being discovered.
Presently the voice unknown to Bipin asked a question, distinctly heard
without.
"Dost think, my Lord, that sixty men will suffice for the affair"?
"They will be enough," returned that of the other speaker, which Bipin
believed to come from the mouth of Prasad. "We will carry the palace
by assault, and make away with everyone who intercepts our progress,
until we reach the person of the Rani."
"To-morrow night thou hast determined on the attempt"?
"To-morrow night. Be careful to come to the place of meeting at the
tomb of Firoz Khan near the lake, one hour before midnight."
"As thou commandest. Hast thou a particular desire to make a prisoner
of anyone"?
"Aye truly have I," came the quick rejoinder. "Thou wilt secure but
deal gently with that arch rascal, Bipin Dat."
Without, the astrologer clapped a hand over the secretary's mouth to
prevent a wail of despair going forth upon the night.
"Set thy knees and teeth, worthy Secretary," whispered the astrologer,
"or they will shake the heavens down upon our heads."
"Be very careful of him," continued the voice within, "as I have
somewhat to say regarding his impertinence and presumption before
cutting his nose and ears off, and flinging his liver to the dogs. Of
all those about the Rani, him I detest the most."
Bipin sank an invertebrate bundle of humanity to the ground. He
entwined his arms about the astrologer's legs in a mute appeal for
protection. His throat was incapable of uttering a sound.
The astrologer stooped down and shook Bipin by the shoulder.
"Go," he urged in an imperative whisper, "if thou wouldst save thy
life and that of others. Come, get upon thy feet. Fly to the Rani's
presence, and disclose to her this accursed plot. Remember that the
meeting place is the tomb of Firoz Khan at one hour before midnight,
to-morrow. I would come with thee but my bones are old, and must remain
to screen thy flight."
Bipin crawled on his hands and knees to a little distance, and then
rising, ran as fast as his corpulency would permit, back in the
direction of the city.
Of that journey he retained afterwards little recollection. More than
once he fell over some obstacle in his path, to rise with bruised
limbs and resume his terror-hounded course. He lost his slippers in a
ditch, and his turban in a thicket, into which he had strayed in the
darkness. Whether he entered the city by a gate or scaled the walls he
knew not, but panting, scratched, and with disordered garments, the
worthy secretary did at last reach the palace, and struggle in by the
astonished servants.
At the hour of Bipin's return, the Rani was entertaining her court with
a _natch_ in one of the gardens. Among others, Ahmad Khan had availed
himself of an invitation to be present, leaving his guest, Prasad, in
a better humor than he had displayed for some days past. As a sign of
reviving spirit, he had even promised the Mohammedan to take part in
a boar hunt on the following morning. He had scarcely mentioned the
Rani's name since the astrologer's visit of the day before, except
to remark that he believed Mohurran Goshi's pills and charms were
assisting him to control his passion.
By the light of torches the girls had delighted their audience with
several exhibitions of their art. In an interval refreshments of
sweetmeats and sherbet were being served, when the strange figure made
by Bipin Dat broke through the half circle formed by the girls and
musicians. Out of breath, with his dress in the utmost disorder, he
waddled to the Rani's position, and with a groan sank down at her feet.
"Why, what is the meaning of this"? asked the Rani in accents of
surprise. "Truly, O Bipin, thou must have been chased by the terrible
white fox of which thou livest in such dread."
"O great Lady," moaned Bipin, casting his hands upward despairingly.
"Alas! we are all, every one of us, now dead."
"Dead"! exclaimed the Rani. "Not quite dead yet, I think, good
Secretary."
"_Ah, hae, hae_"! Bipin continued to moan piteously. "Dead, all dead,"
he groaned; "or before another moon has set, most assuredly we all will
be."
"Now what dost thou mean by this nonsense"? demanded the Rani
impatiently. "Speak, what has reduced thee to such a condition of
distress. Thou art interrupting the pleasure of my guests."
A groan as if drawn from the pit of his stomach came forth from Bipin's
lips.
"O Rani," he spoke hoarsely. "The accursed Prasad Singh, may God send
his soul into the body of a scorpion for ten thousand years, he--he----"
At the mention of the Hindu noble's name, the Rani started and gazed
inquiringly upon Bipin, who hesitated, as if he knew not how to
commence his horrifying disclosure.
"Well," urged the Rani. "Well, what of the noble Prasad Singh. What
knowest thou of him"?
"Oh! great Rani. He--the accursed Prasad Singh plotteth----"
"Stay," interposed the Rani quickly. "Stay Bipin, I will hear what thou
hast to impart privately."
"Ahmad Khan," she said, turning to the Mohammedan. "As Prasad is thy
guest, thou wilt come with us apart. Let the _natch_ continue," she
added to an attendant. "We will return presently."
She led the way to a corridor at one end of the garden and then
addressed Bipin.
"Speak now what thou knowest of the noble Prasad Singh, and be certain
that it is no idle tale, no unfounded gossip, or rest assured thou wilt
suffer real pain without any doubt."
"Great Rani," returned Bipin plaintively. "Let my mouth be filled with
dust, and my face shaved only on one side as an object of ridicule for
all liars, if I do not speak the truth. From a wise man, for sometime
have I been warned that Prasad Singh had evil designs upon my nose and
ears. That----"
The Rani interposed with angry impatience.
"Thy nose and ears, fool! What would the noble Prasad Singh care for
anything that pertaineth to thy life or person. Did I not warn thee not
to trespass upon my good nature with such nonsense"?
Bipin assumed an expression of wounded dignity, but replied with
submission.
"Noble Rani, that is as may be; but the same wise man to make plain to
me Prasad Singh's accursed designs led me this evening to a meeting
place, where, in seclusion, I heard Prasad discuss a plot to assault
the palace to-morrow night. With six hundred, nay I believe it was
six thousand followers, he will put everyone to the sword, seize your
Highness's throne for himself, and, O great Lady, consign you for
evermore to a fortress guarded by terrible monsters. And as for me, O
noble one, alas"! Bipin whined in terror. "In revenge for my fidelity
to thee, my nose and ears are to be cut off and nailed to the palace
gate, and my body," he groaned deeply, "O holy Kali, chopped in pieces
and cast to swine. Alas! what a miserable fate lieth in store for all
of us."
The Rani was about to reply when Ahmad interposed angrily.
"What is all this thou sayest of the noble Prasad Singh? Dost know that
thou art accusing a high and loyal prince of the vilest treachery.
By the Prophet's beard! were it not that I regard thee as but a half
witted fool, for such lies upon a friend, I would cut thee on the spot
into the pieces of which thou speakest."
He made an impulsive motion with his hand toward the hilt of his sword,
but the Rani restrained him.
"Stay Ahmad," she enjoined. "Perchance somewhere in all this mass of
exaggeration there may lie a speck of truth. You must admit Prasad's
actions of late might warrant a measure of suspicion."
"Noble Rani," replied Ahmad in a tone of excuse. "That Prasad Singh
may have been guilty of youthful folly, that he has not paid due
respect to your exalted office and person, I will not deny; but that
he should harbor a single thought, far less attempt an act against
your authority, I will swear it to be a lie upon the sacred book. Nay,
more, I will defend his honor in such a matter, with my sword, against
whoever may make the vile assertion."
"Ahmad," returned the Rani thoughtfully. "It is to thy credit that
thou dost behold Prasad only with the eye of a friend; but I possess
my own reason for searching further into this matter. Now Bipin,"
she continued addressing the secretary impressively, "state plainly,
and without resort to a riot of thy nervous fancy, what thou hast
actually seen and heard. As thou tellest the truth thou wilt meet with
recompense, but if thou liest, I swear I will carry out the doom thou
believest is in store for thee."
With numerous checks upon his tendency to wander from the main thread
of his story, Bipin disclosed by degrees a full account of what he
had overheard at the window of the hut outside the city. In spite of
a strict cross examination on the part of the Rani and Ahmad Khan,
he held steadfastly to two points, that it was Prasad's voice he had
undoubtedly heard in the treasonable discussion, and that in his
terrified condition he had entirely forgotten the name of the wise man
who had conducted him to the spot.
Bipin's interrogation was brought finally to a conclusion. The Rani
dismissed him with the assurance that he had acted wisely in her
interest, and might fear no evil from any direction.
"Well, my Lord," she asked of Ahmad. "What do you now think of this"?
"Truly, noble Lady," he replied, "my understanding is still unable
to give credence to such a report. I cannot believe it of my friend
Prasad, staying as he is under the shelter of my roof. By not a sign
or word has he intimated any such design to me. I thought him far too
much consumed with the fair Ganga's charms to care for any project upon
earth. Alas! one knows not what to think. So noble a fellow to fall
into such evil paths."
The Rani bit her lip and clenched her hands tightly to restrain the
burst of jealous passion called to the surface of her nature by the
Mohammedan's insidious thrust.
"Noble Rani," petitioned Ahmad, "I beg thou wilt permit me to return
immediately to my house. There, I will cautiously sound the noble
Prasad on this matter, and if I find a grain of truth in the report, so
display to him the ingratitude, the wickedness of such thoughts, that
surely will he express his sorrow and hasten to thy presence abjectly
craving pardon."
"Ah"! cried the Rani with bitter resentment in her voice. "If it be
true, think not that I will accept his repentance or grant a pardon.
Nay Ahmad, thou art not to breathe a word of this to any mortal being,
or thou shalt fall under my unchangeable displeasure. For the moment
it is my intention to be present at this meeting in the tomb of Firoz
Khan, and if he be found plotting this damnable deceit, may the Gods of
India help him, for the Rani will show no mercy."
The darkness concealed a smile of supreme triumph on the Mohammedan's
face.
"As thou commandest, noble one," he replied in a voice of regretful
emotion. "I pray to _Allah_ that it may be proved this fool's wits
have gone far wandering than that my friend doth contemplate such
inconceivable treachery. How doth the noble Rani purpose to act
further"? he asked.
"That, Ahmad, I am considering," she replied.
She continued in a part soliloquy:
"If Prasad is bent upon this mischief, there is no doubt he will gather
to his side a following. Divide Bipin's last total in half, and there
would yet remain thirty unhanged rascals. Why should not I number
myself as one of them"?
"But consider the danger, noble Lady," protested Ahmad. He was
astonished at the daring of the Rani's project.
"What care I for danger"? she returned in an off-hand manner. "Surely
you, above all men, will not deny that in the peril of a desperate
situation, there lies more charm than can be gained from watching
yonder seductive _natch_."
"Aye for a man of arms, fair Lady. But thou art a woman."
"And a Maratha born," she answered significantly. "Forget not that, O
Ahmad. Not even yet dost thou know the Rani of Jhansi. By God's favor
I will some day, perhaps, fight sword in hand on horseback with the
bravest of you."
The dauntless spirit of her nature appealed to a counterpart in the
Mohammedan's character in a way that no other human quality could have
done. Though he realized it not, it was this force of her being that
held him bound to her service, in a sense, a comrade, as much as he was
a lover.
He murmured a genuine tribute of his admiration.
"Truly, I will not say thee nay, brave Rani. But how then wouldst thou
proceed. Surely thou wilt not go alone into this affair"?
"No," she resumed. "I do not intend Prasad to gain quite so much
advantage. One against thirty would be too unequal odds to combat.
With me, Rati, shall number another of these villains, and within the
summons of my voice, thou wilt hold my Valaiti bodyguard in some
convenient place of hiding. Such can be done, can it not, good Ahmad"?
"I know just such a place close to the tomb," he replied.
"Then it is well or ill," she replied, "whichever way we may regard it.
To-morrow I, too, will keep an unexpected tryst with Prasad at the tomb
of Firoz Khan, and if he be there, as it hath been reported, the Rani
will herself determine how to deal with him. Come! let us return now to
the _natch_. Let no one suspect that anything hath gone amiss."
Ahmad paused with a gesture of appeal.
"May I not, O just Rani, say but one word for him who is my friend"?
"Nay, not one," she answered. "If he be found innocent he hath
committed no offense against the Rani; if guilty, he hath well merited
his punishment. Come"! she urged impatiently.
With dejected mien, Ahmad obediently followed.
When the natch was over, he strode hurriedly from the palace. He made
his way quickly to Mohurran Goshi's home, and called the astrologer
from his slumbers.
"But a word with thee, learned Doctor," he whispered at the door. "Our
star could not shine brighter. All goes well; but the Rani and one of
her women are to make two of Prasad's following. Dost understand"?
The astrologer intimated that he would look to the addition of two to
the original number, provided for the Hindu noble's purpose.
"Then good fortune to us all," concluded Ahmad. "The shadow of the
accursed Prasad vanishes as beneath the sun at noonday."