A stout serving-man was holding a powerful grey horse, which, well,
if not handsomely, caparisoned, stood neighing loudly before the door
of an ordinary house in the main street of Surroori, a small village
nearly midway between the towns of Kullianee and Allund, as a person
within, evidently of a superior class, was girding up his waist with a
shawl, and otherwise preparing himself for a day's journey. Of middle
stature, thin but well-proportioned, with a light bamboo-coloured
complexion of a pale cast, and a slight habitual stoop, the man seemed
unaccustomed to rough exertion; and the sword he had just fastened into
his waist-belt, along with an ivory-handled poniard and knife, was
apparently more for ornament than for use--such a one as might be used
at court, or by a boy,--not the weapon of a soldier.
The man's face was clean shaven, except a long moustache, which
drooped very much at the corners, and the features were by no means
ill-favoured. A first glance showed an expression of much intelligence,
mingled, however, as you looked further, with much cunning. The eyes
were small, deep-set under bushy eyebrows, and of a light grey; the
nose high and aquiline, but broad across the nostrils, and hung
over the moustache in a peculiar manner; the forehead was wrinkled
into furrows by habitual elevation of the eyebrows; and, as far as
the upper part of the face was concerned, it had an appearance of
firmness, which the lower portion belied; for the mouth, drawn up at
the corners in a constant and apparently hypocritical attempt to smile,
was evidently performing an office foreign to its intention; and the
chin, which suddenly retreated into a somewhat bony throat, had no
character but decided weakness, if not, indeed, actual cowardice and
deceit. Thus, the whole features wore a restless, suspicious, and
hypocritical expression, which, most likely, was a true indication of
the possessor's mind.
Lalla Toolsee Das was not a native of the Dekhan, but had served for
the last two years, or nearly so, in the Dufter, or Record Office of
the Emperor Aurungzeeb. The Lalla had been sent from Delhi to his
uncle, who was in the Emperor's service: and, having given proofs of
ability as a Persian scholar, he had been appointed to a confidential
situation about the Emperor himself. What use the Lalla had made of his
position will appear hereafter, as also why he now undertook a long
journey alone, in a strange country, and at an inclement season of the
year. Meanwhile we have only to describe his progress, which, so far as
the weather is concerned, appears uncertain.
The Lalla had risen early, bathed, breakfasted, and packed his
saddle-bags. He had looked out several times since morning, but always
with the same result as to the sky, which continued of a dull, leaden
grey, with occasional rain. There was no wind, it was close and hot,
and his host, an old Byragee, who was a lay monk of the Mutt, or
monastery, at Kullianee, which the Lalla had left the day before, was
persuading him to remain. But the indifferent night's rest he had
endured from the venomous mosquitoes, the moaning of a cow over a
new-born calf, and other noises from cattle and goats,--from the women,
who ground at the mill so early in the house, singing a discordant
Canarese song--and, above all, his personal anxiety to proceed,--have
weighed against the weather.
"Ah, my poor Mootee," said the Lalla, as he heard his horse neigh,
"thou wilt have a hard day of it, I fear, in the mud. How far didst
thou say it was, Bawa Sahib?" he continued to his host.
"It is six coss, by our reckoning here, by one road--seven or eight by
the other," replied the Byragee, "which, in the coss you are accustomed
to in Hindustan, will be ten one way, and thirteen the other."
"And you recommend the longest road, Bawajee?"
"Well, sir, it is as you please. You will have somewhat less mud and
stones by the upper road than by the lower--that is all."
"Ah, friend," continued the Lalla, as we shall call him, "four coss
more at the end of a hard day is not pleasant, and so the less the
better. Let me see; here is my route. Ah, Kinny, little and great; I
suppose I can rest at either if I like, though I should prefer getting
on to the worthy Fathers' Mutt at Allund."
"Certainly," replied the old man; "but do not stop at Kinny, if you
can help; and, above all, do not shelter yourself at the temple on the
hill, under the 'Burr' tree. Ah, yes, there will be heavy rain to-day,
Lallajee, for it is so hot," he continued, looking up at the clouds,
now deepening into fringes of black here and there; "you had better
stay."
"No, Bawa, I must go on; and if it rains I can't help it. But about the
tree," the Lalla continued; "I suppose there are sprites and devils in
it as usual; and, to say the truth, I am not afraid of them. A man
that always lives among soldiers, you know, gets brave."
"Indeed," returned the Byragee dryly. "O, of course! But take my
advice, and when you change guides at Kinny, ask them to send you by
the south road; it's--it's the best, and some bad places are avoided.
But here is the Patel," he added, as that functionary, emerging
from his doorway opposite, with a striped blanket over his head and
shoulders, saluted the Lalla with a loud "Numascar Maharaj!" "He will
direct the guide himself, Lallajee, which will insure a speedy and safe
journey."
They followed the Patel through the village, which, under the steadily
increasing rain, looked sufficiently wretched to deter any one from
staying, who had not urgent necessity for doing so. This was not
the Lalla's predicament; and he now unfastened a large thick felt
travelling-cloak from the pommel of his cloth saddle, put it over his
head, and wrapped it around him so as to cover his legs, which were
protected by long, soft, Persian riding-boots.
Few people were astir. Under shelter of the house-walls the dogs had
assembled in groups, and, standing with their tails between their legs,
barked at the stranger as he passed. Pigs and fowls, being disturbed
by his horse, ran to and fro, with noisy grunt and cackle. Some cattle
stood together in parties near their owners' houses, a heavy steam from
their nostrils ascending into the thick air, and broke the silence by
an occasional hoarse low. Here and there a stout motherly dame, with a
child seated astride on her hip, and others hanging about her, stood,
nothing abashed, at her house door, looking at the Lalla as he passed;
or a farmer, with his blanket cast over his head, smoking his morning
cigarette, lounged under shelter of his own eaves, and exchanged a
morning greeting with the Patel. The spouts of terraced houses were
beginning to run fast, and small streams of water were already making
their way through the mud.
In the gateway were two or three "jowans," or young men, who watched
and guarded it, and acted as messengers. One of these was sent for a
guide, and the party stayed under shelter till he arrived, when the
Lalla and his bundle were formally made over to him, to be delivered up
at the next village, about two miles distant; and finally, the Lalla
mounted.
"Don't forget the south road from Kinny," said the Byragee, wishing him
a good journey, as the Lalla, making his parting salutation, rode out
of the gateway.
"Who is that?" asked the Patel. "You kept him mighty close in your Mutt
last night."
"I don't know," returned the other; "but he goes on the government
business to Beejapoor, and you know the order which came with him. I
suppose it is some secret matter, else he would have had an escort."
"Well, he is gone, whoever he is," said the Patel; "and I would rather
he travelled than I, even on that good beast of his, to Allund, to-day.
It is going to rain badly--but it will do the grain good." And so they
fell to talking of their farms, and the prices of grain at the last
market, while the Lalla and his guide proceeded onward.
If the Lalla could have understood his guide, the way might have been
beguiled by pleasant gossip of the country round; but of the vernacular
of that part of the country he was profoundly ignorant, and every
attempt he made in the "Oordoo," or court language, was met with a curt
"Tillid-illa"--"don't understand"--or an occasional very expressive
pantomimic action on the part of the guide, who, looking back,
sometimes pointed to the bundle on his head, then to the rain, and
again tapped his own stomach, or stuffed his fingers into his mouth,
conveying the intimation that he expected to be well rewarded, and was
very hungry. Thus the next village was reached, the first guide was
dismissed with a little extra gratuity, and the Lalla again proceeded
with a fresh one.[5]
The ranges of low hills crossed from time to time had been stony but
firm ground, and as yet Motee had not suffered. The dreaded river,
which might have cut him off from Allund, was now behind him; and,
after ascending a small eminence, and a wide plain appeared before
him, our traveller congratulated himself on a speedy arrival at his
destination, having, as he considered, got over at least one half of
his journey.
Very soon, however, the rough, stony path changed into one which at
times was difficult to discern at all. The plain over which the road
now lay was cultivated as far as could be seen, but the fields were as
yet unsown. Step after step the mud appeared deeper, the stones in it
more numerous and slippery; and, in fact, after about a mile, during
which the rain had fallen more heavily than ever, the plain appeared
covered with water, which could not run off, and the black soil of the
road and fields to have turned into liquid mud, barely able to support
the stones which lay so thickly upon it. So long, too, as the rain had
not penetrated far below the surface, Motee's feet had at least the dry
earth to rest upon; but now not even that remained, and yet the gallant
horse struggled on, snorting, and occasionally plunging, but evidently
becoming wearied by efforts which had no respite. Still the guide led
on, sometimes by the road-track, sometimes by its grassy banks, and
again leaving both, struck into other paths through the fields which
promised firmer footing.
The rain continued to pour in torrents: indeed, it was more than ever
violent: and a flash of blinding lightning, followed by a roar of
thunder before them, promised worse weather. Poor Motee even winced,
evincing a strong determination to turn round and set his tail to it;
but a few words of encouragement from his master, and being led a few
paces by the guide, restored his temper, and he proceeded gallantly.
At the junction of two roads, the guide paused for a moment. One, it
was clear, led to a village they had seen for some time past, the trees
of which loomed large and heavy through the thick air, but it appeared
out of direction of the path. The Lalla's stock of Canarese was simply
nothing--of Mahratta not much more; but the name of his destination
was, at least, intelligible. "Allund," he said, holding out a rupee
between his finger and thumb, "Allund!"
The guide grinned as he took the coin. "Allund!" he returned
affirmatively, and striking into a path to the right, the Lalla could
see that, by avoiding the village to the left, the road led apparently
in the direction of what looked like a clump of trees standing out
against the sky. Was that the banian tree of which he had been warned
by the old Byragee at Surroori? The Lalla's little stock of Mahratta
was again put into requisition, and the guide seemed to understand it
readily.
Yes, the village to the left was Little Kinny; that to the right,
great Kinny, and that was the "Burr" tree beyond. Good; then he had
only to avoid the tree, if that indeed were necessary. Since the peal
of thunder the rain had decreased, and a breeze was springing up in
his face, which was very refreshing. The clouds, too, were breaking,
as appeared by patches of bright fringe in the south-west. The guide
pointed to them cheerfully, as he moved on at a steady pace; for the
plain, though muddy in parts, was now not so bad as what he had already
passed. So, as our friend is likely to reach Kinny without farther
trouble, let us see what Lukshmun has been doing since we left him.
The little rivulet in the valley was above his knees as he passed
it, and, to any one who did not know it, the ford would have been
dangerous; but Lukshmun waded through, without apprehension, and a few
minutes after, as he entered the village gateway and shook the rain
from his blanket, a group of people assembled there welcomed him with a
hearty shout of greeting.
"We thought you would have given it up and departed," said the old
Patel, who, with his son, a few of the village farmers, and the
Putwari, or accountant, were sitting in an open chamber of the deep
gateway, the usual place of business. "We thought you would have gone
away, else I would have sent up some milk. Why did you not come and sit
here, instead of in that ungodly place up yonder? Here, one of ye,"
he continued to a group of "jowans," who were sitting in the opposite
chamber, "take his blanket and dry it. Hast thou eaten to-day, friend?"
"Nothing but a bit of stale cake I had in my waist-cloth," replied the
man; "only that my teeth are strong, it would have broken them. The
'poor man's' bread in the Mutt at Kullianee is not dainty food, and the
flour was musty, O Patel!"
"Take him away to the house, and let them feed him; the women will have
something good, I dare say," replied the Patel. "Go and see."
"And no one has passed since morning?"
"Not a creature. It is not weather to send the dogs out; and the mud
from Kulmus to Kinny and hitherwards will be hopeless. No, he won't
come to-day; but go and eat, friend--go and eat."
"If I am wanted," said Lukshmun.
"Jee, jee! Ay, ay! I will not forget you. Go!"
"What does he want out such a day as this?" asked the Putwari. "What
has Pahar Singh in hand just now?"
"What does it matter to us, Rao Sahib?" returned the Patel; "all we
have to do is to keep his people in good humour, to save our cattle
from being harried, our stacks from being burned, and our people," he
added, looking round at the farmers and their wives, "from being robbed
when they come from market? That is worth what we pay him. Should we
have got the crops off that disputed land at Chitli if he had not sent
those spearmen?"
"No, no; do not interfere," said a chorus of farmers' voices, who, in
those unsettled times, might, unless their village were known to be
under the protection of some local chieftain, at any time have their
flocks and herds swept away by the people of a more powerful village,
or by any of the independent gentry, or barons, as we may call them,
of the country. "What have we to do with state affairs, or with Pahar
Singh either?"
So the assembly having voted non-interference with whatever might be
in hand, our friend Lukshmun was allowed to get his meal in peace.
Smoking--the impossibility of getting anything--and a tight waist-band,
had kept appetite down as yet; but with the Patel's kitchen in
prospect, it rose fiercely for the occasion as he approached the house.
Lukshmun washed his feet and hands before he entered and sat down.
O, what a smell of fried onions there was! and, as a girl set before
him a pile of hot, well-buttered jowaree cakes, a cup full of "char,"
or pepper-water with tamarind in it, a fresh leaf full of a savoury
stew of vegetables of all kinds, and some _dall_ or pease-pudding,
well-seasoned with red pepper and garlic, Lukshmun's heart expanded,
and he set to work with a good will. Every now and then a woman at the
fireplace asked him if he would have more, and it was brought him from
the pan, smoking hot. Lukshmun dallied with each morsel as he ate; and
when even reduced by repletion to licking his fingers, grudged the
summons brought by a man that he was to come.
"Couldst thou not give me a few cakes, O sweet one, and some dall?" he
said to the good-natured looking wench who had been serving him. "I
have a brother--hungry--all day in the rain--while I have eaten. Thou
art like the moon, O beauty, and thy heart as soft as butter. Give me
the cakes for a poor, weak, hungry brother."
"Was there ever such a tongue and such a face?" retorted the damsel,
laughing. "Look, Rookmee!"
The cook turned round and looked, too, laughing heartily; for
Lukshmun's attitude on one leg, with the sole of the other foot
pressed against the calf of it, his hands joined and stretched out
imploringly, and his seared face twisted into a grotesque expression of
supplication, was not to be resisted.
"Give him these cakes," said the cook, handing two to the girl.
"By your antelope eyes, O sweet ones, more!" he said, not altering his
posture. "Do you think two would fill a hungry man's belly? By your
lotos feet----"
"There, begone!" said the cook, handing him a few more and some dall;
"there is a meal for a Rajah. Go, if the mistress should hear you----"
"I am gone, O my beauties," continued Lukshmun, folding the cakes
into his waist-cloth, and tying them behind, then washing his hands
elaborately. "You have made my heart----"
"Come quickly, come," said a voice at the door; "they want thee. Wilt
thou eat all day?"
"I worship you, lovely nymphs, even as Rama adored----"
"Begone!" cried both the girls in a breath. "Here is the mistress
coming, and if she hear such nonsense thou wilt be whipped."
"Here is the man who will be your worship's guide," said the Patel
deferentially to our friend the Lalla, who, having arrived safely, was
now divested of his upper clothing, which some of the men were drying
in the opposite chamber, and seated in the place of honour of the
assembly; "but your worship should eat before you go on, and the Rao
Sahib here will take you to his house--a Brahmun's house," he added, as
the Lalla appeared to hesitate.
"Ah, no, sir," returned the traveller, who indeed was very hungry, "I
could not eat without I bathed, and I had better wait till I get to
Allund. Shookr, shookr! I should be too long about it, and my horse
has had his feed, and is ready to go on. And this is the guide?--not
beautiful exactly."
"No, Maharaj, I am not beautiful, truly," replied Lukshmun, with a
deprecatory gesture to the Patel, "but I may be useful to this noble
gentleman. You may trust me, my lord. The Patel knows me, and so do
all these worthy gentlemen; and am I not come for you?"
"They expect me, then, good fellow," replied the Lalla, amused by the
man's broken Oordoo, and his grotesque expression of face.
"Ah, yes, noble sir," answered the man, joining his hands, "ever since
morning; and as I was coming here on business I was told to bring you
on. And now let us proceed, else it will be night ere we reach Allund;
and," he added, with a wink to the Patel, "it is not good to be out
late on the roads."
"What, are they dangerous, then?" asked the Lalla, looking anxiously
around him.
"O no," cried Lukshmun, interposing readily; "there is no trouble in
the country, and my lord is armed, and so am I. O no, only in regard to
the mud and the stones. My lord will not find the road long, for I can
sing him Mahratta 'lownees' if he likes."
"There was a tree and a temple which I was told to avoid, and to ask to
be sent by the south road," said the Lalla, preparing to mount.
Lukshmun exchanged glances with the Patel and the Putwari. "Could any
one have warned the stranger?"
"A tree!" said the Patel, gravely. "What tree? dost thou know any,
Lukshmun? And the south road? what road?"
"O, I suppose the noble gentleman means that by Navindgee, and
Hoshully, and Chik-Wondully, and Hully Sullgarra," said Lukshmun,
rolling out a volley of hard Canarese village names. "That road? Why,
it is six coss further from here! They should have sent him by it from
Surroori. No," he continued, dropping the Lalla's stirrup, which he
had taken in his hand, "if the gentleman likes to go he can do so, of
course, but his slave begs to be excused;" and he put his joined hands
up to his nose.
"Very good," said the Lalla, "I don't know; only I was told----"
"By whom?" interrupted the Putwari.
"By Déo Bawa, the Byragee at Surroori."
"O, the old Bawa!" said the Patel, laughing. "Curious, is it not, noble
sir, that the old man thinks that there are devils in the tree? He
tells me he was bewitched there once, and I ought to cut it down."
"And I told him I was not afraid of them, Patel; but he said there was
something else," returned the Lalla.
"Robbers, I suppose," said Lukshmun, readily; "Pahar Singh's men,
perhaps."
"Perhaps," added the Lalla, "but he did not say so."
"Well for him," thought the Putwari, "or his stacks would have been
burnt to-morrow night."
"Ah! no fear of thieves when you have one of 'the hunchbacks' with
you," said Lukshmun. "Come, mount, my lord. Salaam, Maharaj," he
continued, making a mock salutation to the sun, which was just
struggling through a cloud. "Salaam! thou hast been moist to-day; come
out and dry thyself and us too. Now, noble gentleman, mount, and you
will see how fast the excellent dinner I have eaten in the Patel's
kitchen will take my feet to Allund, and the good horse, too, looks as
fresh as if he were but just starting," and he patted him. "Ah, well
done, sir!" he continued, as the Lalla mounted not ungracefully; "we
poor Dekhanies cannot compare ourselves on horseback with you northern
cavaliers. Come, sir, the road waits for us."
And with a salutation all round, the Lalla rode out of the gate, and
our friend Lukshmun, cutting a caper which showed his marvellous
activity by way, as he said, of getting the dinner out of his legs, and
calling to the guide who carried the bundle, they passed on over the
village common.
The Putwari sighed as the party left the gate.
"I tell thee, Seeta Ram," said the Patel, "he will come to no harm, and
he is gone away happy."
"I am glad he did not eat at my house; it is not pleasant feeding a man
who has death in his throat," returned the Putwari.
"I tell thee he is safe," retorted the Patel; "and if he is killed, it
is no affair of ours."
"No, it is no business of ours," said the Putwari, settling to his
accounts with a sigh which vexed the Patel. "No, it is no business of
ours," echoed the farmers.
At that time Rama, who was seated on the heap of stones, looking from
the top of the hill, exclaimed, as the three persons emerged from a
lane into a low field in which the road was distinctly visible.
"Jemadar! he is coming at last, and Lukshmun is with him; we must be
ready. Look, they are there!" he continued, as Gopal Singh joined him,
"between the village and the stream."
"Ah, I see them, Rama, and thy brother is as true as gold. We will join
them as they go on; he must not suspect us yet."
FOOTNOTE:
[5] Each village is obliged to furnish a guide to travellers on payment
of a small gratuity, and these men relieve themselves at every village.