_IN THE COURSE OF EVENTS_
Many days had passed beneath the Rani's feet. Almost hourly the loom
of peril rose threateningly upon her position. From every source, with
unrelenting persistence, the worst news came to shatter the hopes of
those who had espoused the Native cause in Jhansi.
First the report of the recapture and looting of Delhi was confirmed;
to which was added the intelligence that the aged Emperor was a
prisoner in the enemy's hands, and that his sons had been slaughtered.
Then that Lucknow was relieved, and the army of the Peshwa put
to flight. Reports of other reverses succeeded one another with
disheartening rapidity.
The hour of the Foreigners' vengeance had come. Terror was the
weapon they now wielded to crush the rebellion. It was not without
satisfactory result in the interest of their dominion in India. The
undisciplined mobs led by generals suspicious of each other's actions
melted away before the impetuous onslaughts of the white men. Many
Native leaders sought to make peace while the hour of grace lasted.
Those still wavering quickly made up their minds that they had ever
loved the Foreigner as a parent.
But for those taken in open revolt it was soon made plain that there
was to be no mercy. They were blown from the mouths of cannon to
end their lives in this world, and, according to the belief of the
sentenced, to exterminate their existence in the next. The demand rose
that as a lasting memorial of the triumph of the Christian faith as
well as of the Christian sword over both Hindu and Mohammedan, temples
should be converted into churches, and that on every tile of the Great
Mosque at Delhi a martyr's name should be engraved.
In another part of the world the names of Christian martyrs may be
seen cut into the walls of subterranean passages bearing witness to
a triumph of their faith brought about by other means. But it was
the Nineteenth and not the Third Century. It was Cawnpur and not the
Coliseum to be avenged.
Reports of these things, also, came to the Rani's ears.
"See," she cried, "how faithfully do these Foreigners observe the
commandments of their gentle Prophet. Were a Mohammedan conqueror
raging through the land, his injunction to plunder and spare none could
not be more swiftly obeyed."
With the news of each fresh disaster, the number of dismayed faces
turned toward the Rani increased proportionately; but upon her
countenance there was no reflection of the weakening sentiment. Her
spirit rose as that of an eagle threatened with the destruction of its
young. She realized that time was bringing for her, a supreme test of
forethought and endurance, as well as of courage.
As she had surprised all with the wisdom displayed in the conduct of
her civil government--a curious reproach to those who had regarded her
as incapable to occupy a throne--her military judgment was marked by
intuitive sagacity of the highest merit.
On the ramparts of the rock fortress new guns were mounted commanding
the whole plain; the massive walls surrounding the city on its three
other sides were repaired; the mamelon, or mound, at the south-east
corner, together with several flanking bastions, armed, so that they
bristled with guns. With untiring perseverance she had collected and
trained to a state of efficiency a defending force of eleven thousand
men, every one of whom had sworn to defend her person and honor to the
last extremity.
Thus her outward life displayed no sign of the unhealed wound in her
heart. Of Prasad, she had received no intelligence directly. Rumor had
upon occasion reported his presence with the standard of the Native
general, Tantia Topi, so far victorious and vanquished in turn. Ahmad
Khan still remained as the most obedient of her lieutenants.
From the pavement of the temple he had risen to go forth with a new
feeling regarding her. The element of his passion still remained, but
the absence of his rival cast the stimulant of jealousy into abeyance,
and a belief that in some way her person was sacred, prevented any
present contemplation of a renewal of his suit to the point of overt
action. Once only had he ventured with humility to touch upon his
unrequited sentiment. She quickly divined the purpose of his mind, and
interposed before a declaration.
"Greatly do I appreciate thy faithful service, O Ahmad," she said,
"and in the strife I fear is quickly approaching, there is no one of
whose aid I would less willingly be deprived; but of thy longing for my
deeper affection thou must not speak again. Long since have I given my
love to the welfare of my people, to naught else."
A sigh lightly escaped her lips. For a moment her gaze passed from the
immediate scene. Perhaps it sought the figure of a young noble fighting
bravely on some far off battlefield.
"Fair Lady," Ahmad petitioned. "Canst thou not give me but a grain of
hope"?
"Hope, Ahmad," she replied evasively, "of one kind and another we may
each cherish. It is well, for we know not what lies before us on the
morrow. Alas! we are as butterflies dancing in the sunlight. A cloud
sweeps across the Heavens, and behold, we and our hopes have vanished."
With the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, unhappy even in the happiness
of the banishment of his fancied enemy, and relief from the terrors
held over him by his late counselor, Mohurran Goshi; he was not slow
to discover another astrologer, who was quite ready to lighten the
weight of a well filled purse, in exchange for prognostications of
extraordinary good fortune. But the secretary's horoscope was, it
seemed, ever temporarily clouded by ominous signs, that could be
dispelled for a consideration. As with others of the populace, a
real terror rose above the horizon in the threatened return of the
Foreigners. It served to recall to Bipin's mind the fact that a long
period had elapsed since he had visited his family, dwelling in a
province removed from the seat of war. It was a remarkable coincidence
that with the daily advent of evil tidings, this filial sentiment grew
stronger within him. By day it interfered with his digestion; at night
it disturbed his rest. A final decision was brought about through the
attempt of a creditor to recover an overdue account. Money that should
have repaid the services of his barber, had been diverted into the
rapacious purse of the new astrologer; and the barber was wrathful,
even vindictive, in consequence. He took the usual course to enforce
payment by an endeavor to shame the unworthy secretary in public.
Bipin sat in the shade of a pillar endeavoring to propitiate the barber
with compliments, while a blunt razor was unmercifully scraped back
and forth over his head. The mirror he held, in which to admire his
features during the progress of his toilet, reflected a wry countenance.
"A handsome boy, that is of yours, most skilful Barber," he remarked;
as the barber grasped his customer's nose in a tight pinch.
"Ah, yes," returned the barber dryly. "As thou sayest, I would like him
to enter the Rani's service but that all her attendants will shortly be
killed. _Ah, hae!_ Alas! The Foreigners now advancing will not let one
of them escape."
He swept the razor significantly across Bipin's throat.
Bipin started.
"What is that you say"? he asked.
"Be careful, good sir," enjoined the barber, "or I might damage an ear
destined for the Foreigners to cut off, after the city has been carried
by assault."
Bipin shivered both in body and spirit. He mentally cursed the fate
that seemed bent upon depriving him of his organs.
"Thou art a chicken hearted rogue of a barber," he replied excitedly,
in an endeavor to overcome the shock to his courage. "Dost know that
her Highness numbers among her followers some of the bravest fighters
in the land, who will drive away the Foreigners as deer before tigers.
Though not born to the sword, if such danger comes, I, myself, will
bear arms and fight upon the walls."
The barber laughed tauntingly. His object was to incite the secretary's
anger to the point of an open squabble, so that he could then proclaim
his wrong and obtain payment through the adverse criticism that would
fall on Bipin's head.
"You fight, worthy Secretary," he sneered. "Why a jackal would laugh at
your valor. You would run at the first discharge of a gun, but that you
are too fat, too corpulent."
Bipin struggled out of the barber's clutches, burning with passion,
half shaved, a delightful object of ridicule.
"Too fat," he gasped, striking the barber with the palm of his hand.
"Too fat, thou lean ghost. If the accursed Foreigners catch thee, be
assured thy bones will rattle well from the bough of a tree."
Instantly the hubbub the barber looked for rose. A dozen bystanders
interfered, barking dogs rushed from corners, a score of voices
clamored in the interest of they knew not what. Above it all, the wail
of the barber proclaimed the secretary's remissness in his payment.
Bipin soon perceived the disadvantage of his situation. He was in the
wrong, that was made plain. Reluctantly he drew forth the required sum
and begged the offended barber take his money.
The offended barber at first swore by his God not to touch the smallest
coin, but at last yielded to persuasion. He even accepted an additional
payment as a solace for the personal affront, declared Bipin was to
him as an uncle, and vowed that unless permitted to proceed with the
shaving, the joy of his life would go out.
Thus peace was restored, the dogs slunk back to their corners, the
bystanders directed their attention to other matters, and Bipin again
gave his head to the hands of the now obsequious barber. But his mind
was ill at ease.
"The razor shaves to your liking, I trust, great sir," remarked the
barber, as he removed the roots as well as the stems of a tuft of
Bipin's hair.
Bipin groaned with the pain, but from oft repeated similar experiences,
continued to submit patiently.
"At least no worse than usual," he muttered in response. "But tell me
what thou hast heard about the return of the Foreigners."
"Oh, little of any consequence," replied the barber light-heartedly.
"They are on the road that will surely carry them off the face of the
earth. The Rani's troops will rout them utterly. Thou wouldst make a
fine soldier, worthy Secretary," he added in accents of admiration. "A
brave figure on a horse."
"Perhaps so," returned Bipin dubiously. "What you say may be true, but
at present I am considering another matter of importance. When is it
reported in the bazaars that these Foreigners are likely to arrive"?
"Noble Secretary, that is not certain. Indeed, it is the general
opinion they will never arrive except as prisoners."
The expression on Bipin's face did not reflect the barber's sudden
optimism. In his mind he beheld the much more secure retreat afforded
by the abode of his family while the road was still open. At the
conclusion of his toilet he sought the Rani's presence.
A secret council of war had just been held. A messenger that morning
had brought news of the rout of the Native army at Mandanpur only
eighty miles distant from Jhansi, leaving the whole intervening country
exposed, with the single exception of the fort of Chanderi. There
was no longer any doubt of the swift approach of the enemy, the only
question being whether to give battle at some advantageous point, or
defend the city until a relieving force could arrive under Tantia Topi.
The question still awaited a final decision. The Rani herself was in
favor of the former course, while her officers, with the exception
of Ahmad Khan, strenuously urged the latter as more prudent. Another
council was to meet later in the day upon the receipt of further
expected intelligence.
Bipin _salaamed_ and proceeded to introduce his request for leave of
absence to visit his family, by a complimentary preface on the peaceful
condition of all things under the shadow of the Rani's authority.
"Peace it may be for the moment, good Bipin," she interposed, in his
word ramble over the whole State of Jhansi. "But assuredly to-morrow
will find us all with arms in our hands."
Bipin affected astonishment. As he had been excluded from the council
of war the news of the near approach of the Foreigners had not reached
his ears. Was it possible that some audacious raja contemplated a
revolt? he asked. Undoubtedly he would soon be brought to terms, and
the Rani continue to reign undisturbed for evermore.
The Rani shook her head seriously.
"Thou wilt hear of it all quickly enough," she replied. "But in the
meantime what is it thou desirest, for assuredly thou hast a petition"?
Bipin then launched forth into the disturbed state of his conscience on
account of the long period which had elapsed since he had beheld his
dear parents, his honored uncles, his worthy brothers, and all the host
of his other relatives.
"Alas! noble Lady," he reflected contritely. "What will they think
of their undutiful son. Most unfortunate would it be if they should
consider that in the exalted state in which it has pleased your
Highness to place me, I had forgotten their less fortunate condition.
To explain that only the burden of my office has kept me from them,
is the object of my seeking a few days absence from your Illustrious
Greatness's side."
The Rani smiled in spite of the anxiety in her mind.
"That is surely a most estimable desire, O Bipin," she replied. "But I
would suggest that instead of taking so toilsome a journey, thou dost
make thy regrets by letter, accompanied by a handsome present out of
thy savings. In that way, be assured, they will be well satisfied."
Bipin's round face lengthened. The suggestion did not at all coincide
with his present inclination.
"Noble Lady," he resumed gravely. "This would I gladly do, but that
there are some family matters that can only be discussed with propriety
by word of mouth."
"Then, good Bipin, thou must depart, I suppose," she replied, "though
we shall be the loser by thy absence. But thou must use great caution
on the journey," she added naively, "for the horsemen of the Foreigners
may have already swept to the north, and if they catch thee, as a
servant of the Jhansi Rani, I fear thou wilt never behold the faces of
thy genial uncles."
An expression of indecision broke over Bipin's countenance. In that
case, he quickly reasoned, the walls of Jhansi would undoubtedly be a
safer retreat than the open highway.
"Then, perhaps, great Rani," he faltered, "I had better defer my
visit for a season. Not for a mountain of gold would I be absent from
thy side in the hour of danger. Upon my head would forever rest the
reproach that I had turned my heels to the enemy."
"Nay," she answered thoughtfully. "Thou mayest go in safety, for as
thy road lies by the camp of Tantia Topi, thou canst be of service by
bearing a message to him from me. Thus far, an escort shall accompany
thee. But thou must be ready to start immediately."
Bipin's face brightened visibly.
"I am ready even now, noble Lady," he replied, "and doubt not,
will return with all speed in time to assist in the defeat of the
Foreigners, should they venture to direct their steps toward Jhansi."
"Then take thy writing materials and set down as I dictate," she
commanded.
Bipin produced a pen, a bottle of ink, and a pad; when the Rani
delivered an urgent message to the Maratha general, setting forth the
impending danger, and begging him to come speedily to her assistance.
Within an hour Bipin's whole attention was directed toward a heroic
endeavor to keep his seat in the saddle of a spirited horse, while the
troopers unsympathetically set a rapid pace along the road to Charkari.