retorted. 'It is but ten days since I departed on my quest for Sheikh
Ahmed, and you assured me faithfully that for two weeks at least nothing
would be done to this man and his wife.'
"'More cattle have died,' he answered, sullenly.
"The crowd were pressing round us, with angry gestures and threatening
looks, like wild beasts baulked of their prey.
"'Pull his beard,' 'Knock off his turban,' and such like impertinences
were hurled at me. But, taking no heed of these, I again addressed the
patel, raising my voice so that all around might hear.
"'You gave me fourteen days to find the stranger whom you say was
murdered, and ahead of time I have returned and brought him with me. And
Baji Lal, whom this very minute you were about to murder--aye,
murder--is an innocent man, and his wife a maligned woman.'
"And such is human nature, that they who a short time before had been so
keen to see Baji Lal done to death, were now loud in their acclamations
at his escape.
"But the patel looked at me with lowering brow.
"'Fine words, Chunda Das, but I do not see the Sheikh?'
"The crowd hushed their outburst, and faces again looked serious.
"'Oh, yes,' cried some one. 'Let us see him. Where is Sheikh Ahmed?'
"'Where, indeed, but in the burning house, endeavouring to save your
other victim?' I made answer, turning round and pointing with uplifted
arm to Devaka, who now was standing with hands held out beseechingly to
the throng, her face uncovered, full of entreaty.
"And even as we gazed the flames burst through the roof beneath her
feet, and the clouds of smoke almost hid her from view.
"There was no sign of Sheikh Ahmed, and I was greatly perturbed. What
had happened to him? Why did he not appear on the roof? From their
countenances I could see that the spectators were still unconvinced of
the presence of the man.
"Baji Lal up to this time had remained passive, his head bowed as if in
helpless acknowledgement of the power of destiny. But at my call he cast
his eyes upward with the others, and, beholding the form of his wife
through the eddying smoke wreaths, he broke out in loud and passionate
appeal.
"'Chunda Das, friends, neighbours, do not let her burn. She is innocent
of any crime. Do not let her perish. Chunda Das, cut my bonds, that I
may save her or die with her.'
"I was about to sever the thongs that confined his wrists and ankles,
when the patel laid a detaining hand on my shoulder.
"'Not so fast, not so fast, if you please. We have not yet seen Sheikh
Ahmed, and Baji Lal is still condemned to die.'
"I flashed an indignant look at the relentless man, but a cry of 'There
he is, there he is,' broke from the mob. And, sure enough, through the
clouds of smoke, could be seen the figure of the rescuer, crouching low
as he cautiously crept along the roof, with a hand on the parapet to
guide his movements. With bated breath we watched as he neared the
fainting woman, and then, rising to his full height, tore at the rope
which bound her to the stake.
"At last he had released her, and gathered her senseless form in his
arms. But a billow of black smoke blotted out the grim scene. A moment
of tense silence and sickening uncertainty. Then a great shout from the
throng, a shout of pent-up joy and relief, when the hero with his burden
came staggering out through the flame-framed doorway of the building.
"I rushed forward with the rest, and received Devaka in my arms. She had
swooned. I gazed at her rescuer in admiration, his face blackened, his
hair singed, his clothes torn. But could I believe my eyes? The brave
man who had sunk to the ground in a heap was not Sheikh Ahmed, but
Bimjee, the village barber!
"Hastily consigning Devaka to the care of women standing by, I hurried
forward.
"'Sheikh Ahmed is in that house,' I cried, 'probably overpowered by the
smoke. We must save him. Who will come with me?'
"All remained silent. Then some one called out:
"'It is no use, Chunda Das. It is impossible, the walls are falling.'
"But at that very instant the Sheikh appeared through the clouds of
smoke rolling from the doorway. He tottered forward, bearing in his arms
a large bundle wrapped in a cotton quilt. Outstretched hands caught him
as he fell, and carried him away from the burning ruins, for the walls
had now indeed collapsed.
"Neighbours vied with each other in offers of help. Baji Lal and Devaka
were taken to one house. Sheikh Ahmed and myself went to another. The
barber had recovered, and had quietly departed for his own home.
"Next day I sent round word that all the villagers were to come to the
usual place of public gathering, the widespread pipul tree. No second
bidding was required; the open space was soon crowded, right to the edge
of the tank and to the wall of the temple.
"When all were assembled, with Sheikh Ahmed, Baji Lal and Devaka, also
Bimjee the barber, standing by me, I faced the throng.
"'Good people,' I said, 'our worthy friends, Baji Lal and his wife, have
been publicly disgraced. They are now to be publicly reinstated as
honoured members of the community. Sheikh Ahmed will explain the sobbing
and wailing that used to distress them just as much as it mystified you
all, and eventually caused suspicion of an abominable crime. Listen to
the story Sheikh Ahmed has to tell.'
"As I stepped back a pace, the Sheikh came forward. His handsome
countenance beamed goodwill to all, and a murmur of friendly greeting
bore testimony to his popularity. In soft, melodious voice, he addressed
the eagerly expectant crowd.
"'I am indeed heartily grieved that through any fault of mine my kind
host and his wife Devaka should have suffered so severely. I may now
inform you that when I tarried in your midst some time ago, I was on my
way to the court of Akbar on an important mission. I was, as you know,
accompanied by a servant. I had in my possession a most valuable harp,
encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. It had
formerly belonged to the Maharanee of Kholtan, and had been looted from
her palace during the last war. Our Emperor, the Padishah, had long been
desirous of possessing it, for the fame of the instrument, its beauty
and value, was widespread. By a fortunate chance I became acquainted
with the man who was hiding it in the city of Poona. I promised, in the
name of my lord and master, the mighty Akbar, a lac of rupees, and
undertook to carry the instrument safely to the Emperor at
Fathpur-Sikri. On account of its extreme value we decided to conceal it
in a rough packing, and, with a view to avoid attracting attention, that
I should be attended on the road by no more than one body servant, a man
who had been long in my employment and in whom I placed implicit
confidence.
"'Well, all went right until, just as we neared this village I fell
sick--as I now believe, through the agency of my faithless attendant,
who would have poisoned me so that he might possess himself of the
precious harp. Fortunately I was succoured by our good friend, Baji Lal,
and nursed back to health by him and his devoted wife Devaka. I had sent
my servant on to Punderpur, there to await a summons when I again felt
well enough to travel. But one night he returned of his own accord,
bringing the news that the Padishah himself was approaching Punderpur,
and now would be the time for me to complete my mission.
"'But there was something in the fellow's manner that awakened my
distrust. At this time my suspicions were but vague, yet sufficient to
prompt me to caution. Without discovering my inmost thoughts, I
acquiesced in his proposal, and, disregarding the entreaties of my kind
hosts, prepared to take the road without an hour's delay.
"'But first I had to dispose of the bejewelled harp in a place of
safety, for I had made up my mind not to carry it any longer with me. At
Punderpur it would be possible to get an escort of Akbar's cavalry, and
then I could return with them for the treasure. So meanwhile I had to
find some sure hiding-place, this in preference to burdening anyone here
with my secret.
"'The walls of my room in Baji Lal's house were covered with a thick
tent-cloth. While my servant was feeding the horses, I loosened one edge
of this, and to my joy found the space between the inner and the outer
covering sufficient to take the harp. I stripped off the bulky wrappings
in which the harp had been carried up to this time, leaving only a
swathing of fine silk. Then I carefully bestowed the instrument in its
place of hiding, tying it securely to a beam high up toward the ceiling,
and finally I restored the tent-cloth wall exactly as I had found it.
Thereafter I stuffed a few billets of wood into the empty casing of the
harp, and when my servant returned I bade him carry forth the package,
and secure it across my saddle-bow, just as I had been wont to travel
heretofore. Even though it was yet dark, we rode forth on our way.
"'Next day I noticed that my servant kept watching me in a furtive
manner, and I congratulated myself on the precaution I had taken, and
inwardly resolved to be more than ever on my guard not to be caught
unawares. But, alas! I was still weak, and exhausted nature overcame
vigilance, so that one night I slept soundly. I remember nothing of what
took place. But when I came to myself some woodcutters were bathing my
head. They said I had been beaten and wounded, and had bled profusely. I
tried to stand up, but was seized with a great faintness, and would have
fallen had not my succourers steadied me. With tender care I was carried
to Punderpur, happily not far distant, where I was yet once again kindly
bidden to the home of strangers.
"'A munshi named Khyraz was the name of my new benefactor. He was most
wishful that I should hunt down my faithless servant, who, I need not
say, after leaving me for dead, had disappeared with my horse and the
package which was supposed to contain the precious harp. However, as I
had still the instrument in safe keeping, and as I did not want the
story of its being in my possession to get noised abroad, for this would
have robbed me of the pleasure of surprising our King of Kings with the
production of the coveted prize, I let the rascal go, for the time being
at all events. But his day will come, the son of a pig who betrayed the
master whose salt he had eaten for years. May the tombs of his
ancestors be defiled!
"'Of course the news that had brought me to Punderpur was false. So far
from Akbar being in the vicinity, I now learned that he had gone on a
journey to Gwalior, and would not be back to Fathpur-Sikri for several
months. Therefore, I took the opportunity of paying a business visit to
Benares, resting content in my mind that the harp could be in no safer
place than in its snug hiding at the home of Baji Lal, where no robbers
would ever dream of prying.
"'However, I was just on the eve of retracing my steps to this village
when Chunda Das came to Punderpur in quest of me. We met at the house of
Munshi Khyraz, and there I learned of the disaster to my friends here,
and the terrible doom that was contemplated for them. Imagine my dismay,
too, when I discovered that their house was to be burned. My beautiful
harp! It would be destroyed! So we hurried back, sparing neither
ourselves nor our beasts.
"'When I saw the tongues of flame actually curling about the home of
Baji Lal, I became oblivious of aught else save the rescue of the
priceless harp from destruction. Through the blinding smoke I groped my
way to my old sleeping room. I nearly succumbed three or four times
before I managed to tear down the tent-cloth. Then, by the flicker of
the flames I could see the harp reposing in its hiding place in all its
gleaming beauty. I had no time to feel surprised that its silken
covering had been blown aside, and indeed was at that very moment
fluttering in a current of air.
"'Just as my hand reached forth to seize the precious instrument, I was
startled by a subdued plaintive cry. For an instant I paused and
wondered. Then I discovered that the wind was blowing through a crevice
in the wall just behind the harp, and that it was the breeze rushing
through the opening that was causing the strings to vibrate and give
forth their weird complaining.
"'And this, good people, is the explanation of the unrestful spirit.
When the wind blew strong, the cries were loud and insistent; when the
blast came gently, the sobbing was low and wailing.
"'I am distressed that so simple a thing could have caused such trouble.
But in reparation I will undertake to build for Baji Lal and his wife a
new home. I hereby give to their good friend, Chunda Das, an undertaking
to that effect'--he passed a paper to me as he spoke--'whereby I make
myself liable for all moneys expended. And to Devaka I give this chain,
which I hope she will always wear in remembrance of her good deed in
nursing Sheikh Ahmed back to health.'
"And, throwing a long gold chain around the neck of Devaka, the Sheikh
bowed to the company, and, with salaams of farewell, passed through the
throng, toward his escort waiting for him all ready mounted at a little
distance. Soon there was the clatter of hoofs, and they were riding away
across the plain. I had noticed that at Sheikh Ahmed's saddle-bow was a
bulky package, undoubtedly the precious harp in its wrappings.
"That was all there was to be said, and after a while the crowd began to
disperse. On every hand there was loud acclaim for the Sheikh and his
noble generosity, and Devaka's gold chain, which she now held timidly in
her hand, was the object of many admiring glances, and drew for her
general words of congratulation.
"At last all had gone their several ways, leaving Baji Lal and his wife,
Bimjee and myself, alone beneath the pipul tree. A first look into each
other's eyes showed that we were all of the same mind. In their
excitement of the moment the unthinking throng had approved; but for us
there was nothing but bitter disappointment.
"It was Baji Lal who first voiced his feelings.
"'Chunda Das,' he said slowly, 'Sheikh Ahmed has promised to recompense
me for my losses; he has given a costly present to my wife. We want
neither his gifts nor his promises. They are as dust to us. The little
we did for him was not done for gold. Yet we took him into our home, and
fought death for him, and won. He left a valuable treasure under our
roof without consulting or trusting us. When this act of his brought
disaster on our heads, it was no thought for Devaka or for me that
brought him back in hot haste. It was the possible loss of the harp that
occupied all his thoughts. When he came upon the scene, he saw me tied
and ready for the word to die. On the roof he saw my wife with the
flames already leaping to devour her. Yet not one finger did he put
forth to save either her or me. He just rushed into the smoke-filled
house, that he might secure the harp--an instrument of great price, let
it be. But you, my dear friend, had ridden night and day to find the man
whom our neighbours thought we had murdered. Our faithful friend
Bimjee'--Baji Lal stretched out his hand to the barber--'defied fire and
smoke to rescue a defenceless woman from an atrocious death. Neither of
you had anything to gain by these deeds of bravery and self-sacrifice.
You did them for pure love of us. What do we want with that selfish
man's gifts? Chunda Das, give me the paper which binds him to his
promise to restore my home, that I may tear it into fragments and
scatter it to the winds. Devaka, my wife,'--and his voice fell to a tone
of great gentleness--'hand the necklet to Chunda Das, that he may
restore it to the giver.'
"Devaka, who, as I have said, had already removed the chain of gold from
her neck, looked at it perhaps a little lingeringly, let it slip through
her fingers caressingly, then with a sigh placed it in my hands and
turned away. But her sigh, I knew, was less for the surrender of the
gift than for the unworthiness that had prompted its bestowal.
"Her husband contemplated her compassionately. 'You have not many
trinkets, little wife,' he said, 'but this one would not remind us so
much of good deeds done as of base ingratitude. I have no home to take
you to at present, but Bimjee wants us to stay with him until I can
build you another.'
"He stretched forth his hand to Devaka, and, leading her away, departed.
Bimjee, after a salute to me, followed his bidden guests at a little
distance. For myself, I remained awhile to ponder all these happenings.
"To say that I was disappointed in Sheikh Ahmed would not adequately
express my feelings. From the first I had been attracted to the man, by
his handsome figure, distinguished bearing, and pleasant smile. During
our intimacy of four days on the road I had admired the brilliancy of
his conversation, and had taken great delight in his entertaining
recitals of adventure in many far lands. From one like him I had
certainly never expected this display of callous selfishness. But such
is life. We have to keep ourselves prepared for many disillusionments.
And, as I remarked at the outset of my narrative, an experience of this
kind teaches that, if in judging our fellow men we are to be chary of
condemnation, it behoves us also to be discreet in commendation."
And so ended the Bombay trader's story.
* * * * *
After an interval of silence, the voice of the Rajput chief spoke up:
"What became of Baji Lal and Devaka?"
"Oh," replied the merchant, "from that day their happiness returned and
continued. For the villagers were ashamed to have doubted them, so all
contributed to the building and furnishing of their home, and would take
no denial. Good fortune seemed to settle on their roof-tree. Little
Devaka is now the mother of a fine boy, and she wears a chain of gold
around her neck, one given to her by the women of the village when they
heard that she had scorned the proffered gift of Sheikh Ahmed, and
understood the reason why."
"And the Sheikh and his wonderful harp?" questioned the Afghan soldier.
"Did the costly toy reach its destination?"
"The harp is in the treasury of our Sovereign Akbar. Sheikh Ahmed
started back for Poona with the lac of rupees he had promised in the
name of the Padishah and half a lac more for his own recompense. But he
and his company were attacked by a swarm of Mahrattas, and perished to a
man."
"And the treacherous servant?"
"About him I know nothing. My tale is told."
V. THE BLUE DIAMONDS
TOLD BY THE FAKIR
"You have certainly improved on the moral of my story," said the
astrologer, addressing the merchant, silent now after the telling of his
tale. "If it is for God alone to pronounce the censure on mankind, then
assuredly it is for God also to award the praise. As the story of Sheikh
Ahmed and his jewelled harp well shows, deeds may be done openly by the
hand, but the motives for their doing lie secretly in the heart. And the
heart is the innermost temple where none but the high priest, the
individual soul, holds communion with his God, the supreme Deity of the
universe."
"So that a man's life is an unsolvable riddle to all but himself,"
concurred the hakeem.
"And not to be solved even by himself," remarked the Afghan with a
laugh, half of bitterness, half of bravado. "We may know in our secret
heart the motive that prompts to a deed, but we cannot tell the
consequences of that deed as affecting even ourselves who wrought it.
Take this very story of the Sheikh; when recovering his precious harp he
was but digging his own grave. So with all of us; we imagine we are
marching bravely to accomplish some preconceived plan, when all the time
we are merely groping with blinded eyes along the path of destiny,
avoiding the mud holes, it may be, but failing to see the tiger,
crouched for his spring, a few paces further along."
"Shabash!" cried the fakir, in a shrill tone of approval that drew all
eyes to the lean and naked and ash-besprinkled figure seated at the foot
of the veranda steps. "Shabash! shabash!" he cried, again and yet again.
"And your story?" asked the Rajput, with a nod of inquiry and
encouragement.
"Is one that shows how a man may keep on running all his life yet never
reach the goal he has in sight," replied the ascetic. And with the
sturdy independence of his calling he beat a peremptory tattoo with
finger-tips on wooden begging-bowl to command attention to his tale.
* * * * *
"Behold in me a man who possesses nothing in this world excepting a
begging-bowl and a loin cloth. Yet was I at one time the owner of lands
and of cattle, of a home bountifully stored for comfort and for
sustenance, of wives who wore rich jewels, necklets of pearls, armlets
of gold, and bangles of silver, with maid-servants to minister to their
needs and children to play around them. All gone! by my own doing, or
undoing, call it which you will.
"And know, too, that in those days I also was a soldier"--this with a
defiant glance first at the Rajput chief and then at the Afghan general.
"At my side rattled the steel scabbard, and in my belt was the sharp
poinard, swift messenger of death when it came to hand-to-hand fighting,
and the horse I rode had its rich trappings of gold and silver. It may
all seem strange, to hear me tell those things of the long ago and to
look upon me now"--and the speaker stretched forth his skinny, twisted
fingers and attenuated arms, and for a moment ruefully contemplated
them.
"But I speak the truth," he went on, "for to-night, prompted by the
stories to which I have listened and the thoughts they have engendered,
will I unseal my lips after fifty long years of wandering alone, giving
no man my confidence, seeking no man's confidence, intent only on the
attainment of the one desire deeply seated in my heart, and which, in my
eager striving to achieve, seems to be ever more remote from
accomplishment. To-night will I reveal the story of my life, so that,
perchance, the lesson it teaches will show still more clearly the
impotence of man to constitute himself the avenger of wrongs. For if
judgment belongs to Allah, so does vengeance. And the choice of
instrument, of time and place, of the very manner of the deed--all this
belongs to God alone, as this night, listening to the stories that have
gone before, have I for the first time come fully to comprehend."
The fakir paused to gaze around his audience. The look of interest and
expectancy on each face showed the impression his impulsive flow of
language had made. No interrupting word was spoken, but every eye
remained fastened on the lean, keen face peering over long slender
shanks and hand-clasped knees. The narrator continued:
"In those days I had twenty retainers at my call, and these men I
commanded when I rode forth to service with a certain Nawab, from whom I
held my lands for the feudal service I thus performed. It was my fate to
take part in many a fight and in many a foray, and to send many a man to
his doom. But God had ordained it so; the fault was not mine.
"Well, it befell that a certain city was given over to sack and carnage,
for the word had gone forth that the only way to break the power of its
Hindu occupants was to demolish their temples, destroy their idols, and
thereby show the impotence of their false gods to protect them."
The Rajput drew himself up proudly, and a flush of resentment stole over
his face. But the Moslem fanatic, unconscious now of anything but his
reminiscences of the past, went on unheeding and unabashed:
"It was toward the hour of sunset when a body of our soldiery broke into
a temple devoted to the worship of Siva the Destroyer. We had battered
in the heavy wooden doors that protected the inner court, and within the
threshold a score or more of priests fell to our swords, and a dozen
dancing girls as well, attendants on the idols--self-slain these women,
for when they saw that there was no quarter for the men they rushed on
us like female panthers and flung themselves on our dripping blades."
The Hindu listeners were visibly disturbed and affected by this cold
recital of bloody deeds. The hands of the Rajput clenched and unclenched
themselves nervously, and the merchant gave a deep, guttural groan of
horror as he flung the end of his robe over his face as if to shut out a
vision of sacrilege and shame.
"It was written in the beginning, nay before creation it was written,"
murmured the Moslem astrologer, quoting, in courteous sympathy, the
familiar formula of his faith. "And as your priests themselves say," he
added, addressing himself more particularly to the Rajput, "'The destiny
of each man is irrevocably inscribed on his forehead by the hand of
Brahma himself.'"