_THE GREAT COUP DE MAIN_
It was but a fragment of the army defeated at Kalpi that had gathered
within the insecure walls of Gopalpur.
Of the leaders, the Rao Sahib and Ahmad Khan had preceded the Rani of
Jhansi to that place. Tantia Topi and Rai Bahadur or Prasad Singh,
were hourly expected. Upon their arrival a council was summoned to
decide what was best to be done in the hopeless strait to which the
Native cause was reduced. To the North, East, and South; in whichever
direction their gaze turned, they beheld the victorious Foreign armies
closing in upon them with relentless force.
It was one of those fearful days of heat preceding every rainy season.
The Rao Sahib awaited his companions under an awning on the roof of his
temporary residence, where any stray breath of wind, however sultry,
would be welcome. The sun had not yet risen to dispel the haze that
enveloped the surrounding jungle.
The Rani of Jhansi arrived first, quickly followed by Ahmad Khan and
other chiefs. Lastly came Tantia Topi with Prasad Singh.
The nobles saluted the Rao Sahib gravely as they appeared upon the
roof. Prasad's glance rested for a moment upon the Rani's form, but her
gaze was concentrated upon a map of the country. She was apparently
not aware of his presence. He took his seat the furthest from her
position, after exchanging with Ahmad Khan a formal greeting.
Since his dismissal from Jhansi, Prasad had come to regard the
Mohammedan's actions leading up to that event with suspicion. He had
formed no definite charge to prefer against Ahmad, but if they should
meet again he had determined not to place so much confidence in the
other's protestations of friendship. He reasoned that they had not gone
far to assist him in the past.
Toward the Rani, who appeared in his eyes more beautiful than before,
neither time nor absence had diminished his affection. It was true that
while he had come to regard the act for which his banishment had been
pronounced as inexcusable; the severe, the unjust criticism upon his
private life by one, who, if Ahmad's words were to be given credence,
was herself not blameless, for long rankled in his breast.
But had Ahmad Khan spoken the truth concerning her? In the face of the
universal praise bestowed upon her virtue and bravery, a doubt had
risen in his mind of the Mohammedan's good faith. The doubt grew strong
within him during the night ride from Kalpi, and stronger still after
the manner in which she fought her way to his rescue at the battle of
Kunch. If Ahmad had slandered the Rani's character, had acted as a
traitor, he vowed he would slay him without mercy. But in the meantime
she had closed his mouth indefinitely. She had laid an interdict upon
any expression of his sentiment. He could not speak of these things
again until such time as she would grant permission. All he could do
was to prove the depth of his love by such actions as her rescue from
Jhansi. For the rest, he could only hope that fortune would give him an
opportunity to rend the veil of misfortune that had shrouded his life
in Jhansi, and appear before her in his true character--a character
much tempered by the trials and hardships he had since experienced.
When all were assembled there ensued a period of silence. No one
among them seemed to find courage in his heart to speak. Indeed, what
was there that could be said? Their fortresses and arsenals had all
been captured; their armies vanquished and dispersed; the Foreigners
everywhere triumphant. It seemed that only one topic remained for
discussion--how to escape the vengeance that would surely fall upon
their heads.
The Rani raised her eyes and glanced round upon their despondent
countenances. Upon not one of them could she detect a spark of hope
remaining. They were as cowed animals awaiting the lash of a master,
for offenses which they knew to be unpardonable, in defeat.
"Well, my Lords," she spoke calmly, "I presume that being all gathered,
our business is to discuss the next place to give the enemy a battle."
"Give the enemy a battle," Tantia Topi echoed in faint-hearted accents.
"What force of men, what guns, what ammunition, do we now possess with
which to give battle to the Foreigners. Where even can we fly, to gain
any but a temporary refuge"?
"That," returned the Rani firmly, "may be the saving of our situation.
We cannot fly, therefore we must fight."
"Fight," echoed Tantia Topi gloomily. "Have we not fought already, and
what has been the result? Perhaps the noble Rani," he added, with a
strain of sarcasm, "will instruct us how to wage a war without men or
guns."
Tantia Topi had not escaped the feeling of jealousy among certain of
the leaders, as a result of the praise lavished by the troops upon the
personal valor of the Rani of Jhansi.
She retorted with rising temper.
"Ah"! she cried. "Have we not had some experience how fifteen hundred
men well-led can give battle to, and defeat over twenty thousand? Now
it is our turn to win a victory against overwhelming odds."
"Perhaps the valiant Rani will instruct us further," the Native general
suggested, controlling his anger with difficulty, at the Rani's
reference to his Jhansi defeat.
The Rao Sahib interposed, fearful of an altercation between his two
most skillful commanders.
"Assuredly, fair Lady," he said, "any suggestion for a way to retrieve
our disasters will be most welcome."
"Then, my Lords," she continued, as if suggesting a plan that presented
little difficulty of accomplishment, "it is simply, that either by
strategy, diplomacy, or assault, we do capture Gwalior."
"Gwalior! Gwalior"! passed from mouth to mouth, while looks of
incredulous amazement broke upon all faces.
"Gwalior, noble Rani," repeated the Rao Sahib. "Surely thou must mean
some other place, not Maharaja Sindhia's impregnable stronghold,
garrisoned by twenty thousand Foreign drilled troops."
The Rani rose to her feet and spoke with gathering animation.
"Aye, noble Rao Sahib, I do mean Gwalior, Maharaja Sindhia's capital
and no other. I beg your patience," she proceeded, "while I disclose
my plan further. With us here, we have, or may gather together on the
march, perhaps eight thousand troops--a force with which much may be
accomplished, as Tantia Topi knows."
She glanced at the Native hero of numerous defeats with a slight
expression of contempt about her lips, and continued:
"Good, then, with these I propose that we make forced marches
immediately upon Gwalior, and arrive there before Sindhia has been
warned of the coming of his guests. It is well known, my Lords, that
Maharaja Sindhia is, at heart, in sympathy with our cause. It is
also well known," she added with exquisite naïvete, "that he is a
young man not insensible to the charms of a fair woman. To Sindhia,
then, I purpose to dispatch a messenger beseeching him to grant me an
interview. If he doth grant it, be assured there will be no battle
before Gwalior. He will join us with all his forces. But if his crafty
minister, Dinkar Rao, or his Foreign councilor, doth persuade him that
the Rani of Jhansi's eyes will bewitch his reason to perdition, and
he doth refuse my emissary; then we will take his capital whether he
be disposed to yield or no. His people are our people; his troops our
troops; discreet messengers may induce many to join us at the critical
moment, if he elects to give us battle. Gwalior captured," she cried
with flashing eyes, "and all Northern India lies at our feet. The
Foreigners cannot march upon us immediately, for the rains will make
the roads impassable. Thousands will rally to our side. Our swords
will again flash across the heavens. Who knows not only Jhansi, but
Delhi may be recaptured. Is not this a prize worth staking our frail
lives upon? But even if defeat is again the will of God, if die we
must; is it not better to perish as warriors should, in a feat of arms
upon which the eyes of our enemies will gaze with marvel, than as wild
beasts hunted through the jungle?
"Ah, my Lords," she appealed to them with superb emotional fervor. "Let
not us cherish despair, but take to our hearts that invincible faith
in ourselves, by which the seemingly impossible is often successfully
accomplished. Now is the hour when the steel of our courage is forever
determined. Let us at least drag from the unwilling tongues of these
Foreigners the admission, that the glorious traditions of our race
are not to be closed in the pages of history, without reference to a
sublime, a mighty funeral."
The Rani's hearers gazed upon her in wonder. That the force of her
argument; the fire of her words, swept toward them as a blast from a
furnace of heroism, had kindled in their breasts a responsive flame
of her own dauntless spirit, was evident: but they were appalled,
dumbfounded at the audacity, the daring of her proposal.
To march upon Gwalior in the demoralized condition of their army,
in their own sickening despair. Gwalior protected by the strongest
fortress in all India, that was regarded, even by Sindhia's Foreign
allies as impregnable. Gwalior the capital of the great Maharaja,
containing the pick of the Native army and vast stores of munitions of
war. No! It could not be done, they agreed mentally. The plan to their
minds did not offer the single chance out of a thousand in a forlorn
hope.
The Rao Sahib sighed deeply. He gravely shook his head from side to
side.
"It is impossible, I fear, brave Rani," he replied. "It would be easier
to recapture Delhi, than seize Gwalior from Sindhia's hands."
"Impossible! Impossible"! the others echoed sadly.
Even the fierce nature of Ahmad Khan for once failed to respond to an
enterprise of such overpowering odds. But in his mind, the reappearance
of his rival, had inflamed his jealousy and hatred to subvert all other
feelings. His eyes, at intervals, had glanced suspiciously from the
Rani to her lover. Though he had detected no signs of affectionate
regard pass from one to the other, he knew that between himself and
Prasad, her heart in its entirety, if not her favor, went forth to the
noble of her own faith.
Despair, not of an ultimate triumph over the enemy, nor as the result
of the blood-stained conscience which certain among the Foreigners
asserted she possessed, but despair of her ability to move her
companions to one of those splendid achievements of warfare, by which
campaigns are turned suddenly in favor of the vanquished, seized upon
her spirit. It stimulated all the heroism of her nature to an outburst
of feeling. She could no longer withhold the whip of scorn to thrash
their courage into action.
"Then stay, my Lords," she cried, "and rest yourselves in Gopalpur. The
weather is hot and uncomfortable, for such work as this of Gwalior. But
I--I with my Valaitis, even if not another one doth follow, will go to
Sindhia's fortress, and either bid defiance to the Foreigners from its
walls, or yield my life into the hands of God."
Ahmad's martial spirit was stung by the taunt. He would have risen to
his feet in support of the heroic woman, had not a quicker action on
Prasad's part restrained him, in sullen humor, to his seat.
The Rani had turned as if about to leave the council, when Prasad
crossed over to her side. He drew his sword and laid it at her feet.
"If no other will follow," he cried, "I will go with thee to Gwalior,
or to wherever thou dost lead."
The Rani rewarded him with a grateful look, in which he might have
discerned the shade of a more tender feeling. She bent down, and taking
his sword gave it back to him.
"Thou shalt go with me to Gwalior," she spoke gently.
The Rao Sahib had listened throughout the Rani's appeal with a growing
appreciation of its truth. Some great, some telling stroke must be
delivered in the emergency. It needed but an incident like Prasad's act
to win him over to her side.
"Aye," he exclaimed. "Prasad Singh doth rightly. We will all go with
thee, valiant Rani. The command, too, of this business shall be given
to thy hands. If Gwalior is captured, the glory of it shall forever
rest upon thy head."
The Rani was quick to encourage with praise the turn of opinion in her
favor.
"Now do I know, as I had ever believed," she cried joyfully, "that thou
art all brave men. Within a week, I vow the Peshwa shall be proclaimed
in Sindhia's palace.
"And so," she added, "that we are no longer divided in this matter, I
would select the one to go forward as my emissary to Sindhia. Ahmad's
valor would entitle him to the dangerous mission, but that, without
offense to any present, it would be better to dispatch a Hindu noble as
an envoy to a Hindu prince. Otherwise the Maharaja may regard our aim
as too much in the interest of the court of Delhi. Thus I would urge
that Prasad Singh doth set forth immediately on this errand, while we
close in upon his steps to-night."
"I have said thy will shall be the order of our march, brave Rani,"
returned the Rao Sahib. "Prasad Singh will go as thy messenger to the
Maharaja forthwith."
The Rani turned toward her lover.
"Go then, good Prasad," she enjoined, "and in thy most skillful manner
seek to obtain for me an audience with Sindhia, at some place without
the walls of Gwalior secure from treachery. Go, and may God's blessing
rest upon thy head.
"So, my Lords," she cried. "Let us to Gwalior with cautious speed, and
good fortune smiling on our efforts."
The nobles rose spontaneously and shouted with rekindled spirits:
"To Gwalior! To Gwalior "!
The cry was caught up by the soldiers on guard in the compound:
"To Gwalior! To Gwalior! Death to the enemy. Victory for the Rani of
Jhansi."