We must, however, return to our travellers, whose progress since night
set in had been anything but agreeable, considering the state of the
road; for though the light-footed men traversed it easily, poor Motee,
weary enough, stopped fairly where the mud was deepest, and quivered
in every limb in the intervals of stony ground. Indeed, he would have
given up long ago but for Lukshmun, whose cheery voice and hand, now
soothing, now encouraging, now remonstrating, urged him to put forth
his whole power; and as if the promises of a good stable, the sweetest
fodder, the best grain, which were repeated with every endearing
variation that Mahratta and Canarese, oddly intermixed with scraps of
Oordoo ballads, could supply, seemed to be understood by the gallant
beast as he toiled on. His master, since he had been swathed up in the
sheet, and had found it impossible to help himself, had fallen into
what might be called a passive frame of mind. Nothing was clear to him,
neither where he was, nor with whom or where he was going.
As before, villages were avoided, and it was evident that his guides
knew the country perfectly--threading lanes, then emerging into open
fields, again crossing waste ground, but still preserving, as nearly as
possible, the same direction, as the Lalla could see by the moon which,
struggling through masses of watery clouds that had risen since sunset,
threw a misty and indistinct light upon the path and what lay in its
immediate vicinity. Now and then they approached so near a village
that the watch-dogs within its walls bayed and howled, and they could
hear the hum of voices, or see lights high up in the ghurry, or the
watch-towers at the gates; but they did not stop. All the Lalla asked
occasionally was, "How far yet?" and received but one answer--"Coss
bur." The trees of village after village, and the dark square forms of
their ghurries, or castles, stood out against the moon in succession,
and each one he hoped might be the last; but still they went on,
through the same apparently endless succession of muddy lanes, and over
open fields and waste lands,--faster if the ground were firm, slower if
it were muddy.
Finding it of no use to speak to his companions, the Lalla's mind
reverted naturally to his own condition, and was as busy now, though
after a more dreamy fashion, than in the morning, when riches and
honours seemed within his grasp. For after some misgivings he had
argued himself into a belief of a positively agreeable reception by
Pahar Singh. He would not at once admit his errand to the Beejapoor
court, but reserve it for a confidential communication; and he would be
able to tell Pahar Singh about their own country. Yes--the Lalla had
framed, and was framing, many irresistibly polite speeches in his mind,
recalling verses to quote from Persian poets, and the replies to his
remarks would necessarily be in a similar strain. What else could be
expected of one of his own countrymen? and he would make allowances for
some omissions in strict etiquette and courtesy. Then what excellent
cookery he should enjoy--what luxurious rest!
Alas! these were but the delusions of hunger, thirst, and weariness,
and were but shortlived; for in their place would suddenly arise a
ghastly anticipation of violence--a dungeon and chains--ending in a
lingering or sudden death. Or, again, the loss of all his papers and
his money--both as yet safe. Or, perhaps, of being again taken to
the royal camp, and sold to the Emperor, a hasty doom following--an
elephant's foot, or _that_ executioner, always present, whom he so well
remembered.
There was no denying that such thoughts would recur more vividly than
the others, causing the Lalla to writhe in his bonds, and to break
out into a cold sweat from head to foot, in, as it were, the very
bitterness of death. This past, he would sink once more into apathy
and weariness, while Motee groaned, trudged, and splashed, or Lukshmun
cheered or warned him; and the two others, in their old places, their
lighted matches glowing in the darkness, never varied in position or in
pace.
It might have been the close of the first watch of the night, perhaps
more, when the Lalla became sensible of a change in the demeanour of
the men. They talked more among themselves, and laughed heartily. Gopal
Singh even told him to be of good heart. The road, too, was more open
and less muddy. Before him was a rising ground, and upon it a tree
distinctly visible against the moon, to which they pointed, and stepped
out at a better pace. As they neared the tree they halted for a moment,
shook out their dresses, resettled their turbans, and rubbed up their
moustaches. Yes, they were most likely near the end of their journey,
but the Lalla dare not ask; his tongue was cleaving to his mouth with
that peculiarly exhaustive thirst which is the effect of weariness and
terror combined; and when all three men blew their matches, and shook
fresh priming into the pans of their guns, the Lalla shut his eyes and
expected death.
"Come, Lallajee," said Gopal Singh, in a cheery voice, "don't go to
sleep, good man, we are near home now; no more 'coss burs,' you know.
Ah, by-and-by, you will know what a Canarese coss is. Mind the horse as
we go downhill," he continued to Lukshmun. "I must have that beast; he
has done his work right well to-day."
Almost as the last word was spoken, they reached the brow of the
ascent, and looked down upon Itga from the place we have already
described. It appeared gloomy enough to the Lalla. The castle, or
ghurry, stood out, a black mass, against the setting moon, and the men
and horses were barely distinguishable in the faint light, while the
towers at the gate, and round the outer walls, seemed to be exaggerated
in height and dimensions. From the window over the castle gateway, a
light twinkled brightly in the dark mass of the walls, and there was
one also on a bastion of the gate, and a few here and there in the
village. Around the fields and trees were in the deepest gloom, the
upper portion of the trees, where the moon's rays caught the topmost
branches only, being visible, and a sparkle here and there in the
little river, as it brawled over the rocks and stones in its bed, its
hoarse murmur being distinctly audible as though it were in flood.
"Cheer up, Lallajee! be comforted; our master never keeps any one in
suspense very long," remarked Lukshmun pleasantly. "When he says ch-ck,
ch-ck, as I do to Motee here, we know exactly what to do."
"Be quiet, for a prating fool, as thou art!" cried Gopal Singh, "and
look after the horse. I would not have his knees broken for a thousand
rupees. Sit square, O Lalla! lean back, good man, and ease him as you
go down. Do not be afraid."
But for this assurance the Lalla had fainted. "Ah, Jemadar," he
exclaimed, "by your mother, I am too poor to notice--a stranger in a
strange land. I trust to you--pity me and be merciful, for the sake of
my children."
"Bichara! poor fellow, he has children--so have I," interrupted
Lukshmun; "and that makes it worse sometimes."
"Be silent, as you love your life," said the Jemadar, firing a shot
over the Lalla's head, which caused him to start violently, and was
followed by another each from the two men in succession; "be silent,
and mind your seat downhill. If Maun Singh has not arrived," he
continued to the men, "there will have been trouble enough by this
time."
"They have passed not long ago, Jemadar," said Rama; "look, here are
the horses' footprints."
"That is good; and they see us now," continued Gopal Singh.
As he spoke, a vivid white flash, from the highest bastion turret of
the castle, increased in brightness, as a large Bengal light was burned
for an answering signal. The attitude of the signal-man, as he held an
iron cresset high above his head, could be distinctly seen; and while
the dazzling blaze continued, castle, and town, and village--even the
open ground beyond, and the trees and temple upon it--were revealed in
silvery brilliance. Then, as the first died out, another light took
its place, and burned out, leaving the gloom more intense than before.
Under any other circumstances, the effect would have been as surprising
to the Lalla as it was really beautiful, but, under the circumstances,
the sudden apparition of the castle, with its defences and outworks,
struck an additional chill to his heart, and as the last gleam of the
bright light went out, it seemed a type of the extinguishing of his own
hopes.