In his last letter to Beejapoor, Moro Trimmul had directed his agent
there to inform Maloosray that, at the day of which we write, there
would be recitations in the temple, and, under cloak of this, that
most of the heads of the Mahratta families were to assemble; it would,
therefore, be advisable if he could meet them. It was partly on this
account, but most particularly because of the murder of Khan Mahomed,
that Tannajee had left the city so abruptly, and ridden through the
night without a check.
Nor did Tannajee and his companion take rest anywhere during the day
following, except for such refreshment as was absolutely necessary.
They avoided all large towns and villages; and, as Tannajee knew
the country perfectly by day, he guided his friend by cross paths,
frequently through fields and waste lands, till, as the evening fell,
they drew up before the gate of Sindphul, the village below the pass of
Tooljapoor, which we have before had occasion to mention.
The owner, a distant relative of the Rajah Sivaji, by name Jeswunt
Rao Bhóslay, was an intimate friend of Maloosray's, and a true and
influential ally of the general cause in those districts. Maloosray's
sudden arrival surprised him little, for in consequence of what
Moro Trimmul had written, he had been expected; and, after a short
conference, Maloosray urged that the news he had brought should be
communicated to Moro Trimmul and those assembled with as little delay
as possible, and in this Jeswunt Rao concurred.
So, after a slight rest and hearty meal, which both needed, the stout
ponies, provided by their host, were announced to be ready in the
courtyard of the house, and, accompanied by half-a-score of stout
sword-and-buckler men, with matchlocks and lighted matches, they rode
out of the village gate.
The active ponies, though well accustomed to the rough mountain-road,
had paused for a moment to take breath on the level spot from whence
the buildings could be seen below--the glare of light, spreading up
both sides of the dell, revealing crag and rough wood, with the gilded
pinnacles of the temple glittering brightly through the smoke of
torches and of incense; but their impatient riders again urged them up
the rocky ascent with all the speed they were capable of exciting. At
the town gate there was no hindrance, for Jeswunt Rao was well known;
so they were admitted without difficulty, and, leaving the animals at
a house which belonged to him, adjoining the main street, the party
proceeded at once in the direction of the temple.
It was no easy matter, however, to get there. As they approached the
gate at the head of the steps descending into the ravine, and on the
steps themselves, the crowds were almost impassable, but good-humour
prevailed, and, after some struggles, the lower court and the great
assembly were safely reached.
It was a remarkable sight. The court itself was crowded with spectators
so closely packed that to move was impossible. They were sitting upon
the paved floor in rows facing the centre, where an open space had been
provided for the priests, and an avenue left for their communication
with the shrine. Around this the most distinguished of the guests
had been placed; and Maloosray observed with satisfaction, that many
influential persons whom he desired to see, were present. So far, his
visit could not have been better timed.
All round the court were huge cressets of iron, fixed into brackets in
the walls and arches of the court. These were filled with cotton-seed
which, fed with oil from time to time, threw a broad glare upon the
people, and lighted up not only the temple and its quaint and fanciful
ornaments, but the buildings around,--and above, the crags and
precipices, with the houses hanging to them.
There was not a spot unoccupied; even the ledges and projections of the
high pyramidal roof and spires of the temple were crowded, while the
terraces of the vestibule and cloisters around, reserved for the ladies
of the Hindu gentry of the neighbourhood, and of the chief visitors and
priests, glowed with the gay colours of their garments, which stood out
against the dark background of the mountain-side.
As the party advanced through the crowd, Moro Trimmul, who was among
the Brahmun reciters, saw the tall figure of Maloosray behind that of
Jeswunt Rao of Sindphul, who was struggling manfully with the crowd,
and advanced hastily to greet him. He had hardly expected so prompt a
compliance with his request, but was rejoiced that it had been made.
He greeted Maloosray and Palkur heartily, and led them to the reserved
space, where, recognized by many present, and speedily made known to
others, they received a hearty welcome, and took their seats.
A few words whispered, sufficed to explain to Moro Trimmul the
situation of affairs at Beejapoor, and the necessity for immediate
action.
"We must dismiss the assembly earlier than usual," he said, in reply
to Maloosray's anxious question as to how long the ceremonies would be
continued, "and I will hasten what remains. Do not heed me; I have to
take my part now, and as the assembly rises I will rejoin you."
Thus saying, Moro Trimmul passed into the dark vestibule of the temple,
and was divesting himself of his upper garments and turban, when, from
a pillar behind, the girl Gunga came towards him.
"I have been searching for thee," she said; "they wanted thee. Where
hast thou been so long?"
"No matter where," he said gloomily. "Thou couldst have found me
without, if needful. What hast thou done?"
"Nothing," she replied. "I cannot get speech of her, and the rest will
not join me; they are afraid."
"So art thou, Gunga," he replied; "afraid, afraid of a girl? Ah, coward
and liar!"
"Thou art afraid thyself, Moro Trimmul," she retorted. "Go! take
her away. There she stands, no one will prevent thee; there, by the
door--alone."
Moro Trimmul stepped from behind the pillar, still keeping within the
gloom, and looked forward. Before the blaze of the shrine, and the
lamps without it, stood Tara, in the act of bearing garlands of flowers
to the altar. A number of them were hanging upon her left arm, while,
with her right hand extended, she was delivering some to the priest.
As she stood at the door, in the full glare of the lamps within, the
light fell upon her rich crimson silk drapery, its heavy borders and
ends of flowered gold, and the massive gold zone which confined it
round her waist; while the attitude she had involuntarily assumed, as
she turned towards the shrine, showed the graceful outlines of her
figure to peculiar advantage. She had wreathed a long garland of white
flowers into her hair, which fell about her neck and bosom; and another
was twisted round her brows, so as to form a coronet. It was a fanciful
but simple and beautiful decoration, which suited the character of her
small graceful head, and added to the charm of her attire.
Moro Trimmul watched her intently as she delivered the garlands to the
old priest; then, as if a service had been done, she advanced to the
centre of the doorway, and, making a low reverence, stepped aside and
stood erect, looking into the vestibule in expectation, as it were, of
further devotees. Moro Trimmul could see the sweet mouth parted in a
smile, the pearly teeth glistening within the rosy lips, and the soft
eyes flashing as the strong side light fell upon them. Beyond her the
deep gloom of the recesses of the temple could not be penetrated. So
her figure stood out against it in a power of effective relief which
was almost startling.
It was a strange contrast. Within, the dreaded image, richly attired
and covered with priceless jewels, the tiara on its head, and the weird
ruby eyes, now sparkling brightly, now changing and glowing fitfully
amidst the clouds of incense which was burning before it, and the
black, stony, changeless features, seeming even to vary in expression
with the passing effects of light and shadow. Without, Tara in her rich
attire and glowing beauty, and that rapt expression in her countenance,
which the excitement of the scene and the service of the "Holy Mother"
had caused it to assume.
Moro Trimmul sighed. With all the fierce desire which burned within
him, and which now gave him no rest night or day, there was mingled,
curiously perhaps, a loving reverence for the girl, which, as yet, had
restrained him both from violence and insult. It might be her character
and position which had excited it, but rather, perhaps, her own innate
purity and modesty of mind, and the charming simplicity of character,
which he saw in daily exercise in her house, that controlled the fiery
passions of his nature and his avowed unscrupulousness.
"If I were a man," sneered his companion, as she stood with him
concealed behind the large pillar, "I should not be a coward when such
a woman as that was burning at my heart. By the gods, she is no woman,
but an incarnation of beauty. Look at her now!"
"Peace, devil," cried the Brahmun in a hoarse whisper; "hast thou
forgotten the gold, and thy promise by the Pâp-nâs?"
"No, I have not forgotten," said Gunga, "I have part of it here;" and
she shook her foot, on which the gold anklets tinkled slightly; "and I
want to change this silver thing round my waist for a zone like hers
yonder. Ah, how it glows among the rich silk! But thou art a coward,
Moro Trimmul, else I had earned it long ago; and I could have helped
thee."
"Go and speak to her, Gunga, and I will believe thee braver than I am,"
he replied tauntingly. "If she cannot be spoken with, how wilt thou
earn the zone?"
The girl regarded him with a look of defiance, and, without reply,
stepped forward into the light, advanced towards the shrine, making a
slight reverence to the image, glided forwards, and stood opposite to
Tara.
"Thou hast served many hours, sister," she said, in an assumed voice of
kindness, "and must be weary; sit down within for a while, and I will
do what is needed; 'tis my office," she continued, laughing, "as well
as thine."
Moro Trimmul marked the involuntary shudder of aversion which spread
over Tara's countenance, and the action of withdrawing the skirts of
her garment between her ankles, which accompanied it. Then she spoke.
"I am not weary of the Mother's service; when I am I will come no
more," she said gently. "Go away; I will not speak with thee or thy
people, and that thou knowest full well; go."
"And why should I go?" cried Gunga, excitedly; "am I not a Moorlee like
thyself, and have I not served the Mother longer than thee? To be sure,
I am neither a Brahmun nor a widow to be nice as thou art; yet I bid
thee go, and let me have my turn: thou hast had more than thy share of
money already to-day."
"It is all in the shrine before the Mother," said Tara, shrinking from
the bold glances and excited manner of the girl. "I have taken none of
it: I need it not."
"That does not matter," said Gunga; "I will have my turn now. Go away;
thou art not wanted. Those that will not dance before the Mother are
not worthy to serve her. Go, else some of us will push thee out."
"Me!" cried Tara, drawing up her slight figure proudly, her eyes
flashing, and her features quivering with indignation,--"me! you dare
not; you are impure, and the Mother loathes you: touch me, and she will
strike you dead!"
Gunga shrunk from the trial; and others of her sisterhood, who had
stood apart ready to advance, slunk again into the gloom behind the
pillars. Gunga looked round as if for countenance, but no one seemed
disposed to join her, while the old priest at the altar, who had caught
the sound of voices, came to the door, and, seeing Gunga, waved her off.
"Away with ye, and the like of ye!" he cried. "Outside do as ye please;
here ye are an offence. Away! let her stay;" and he pointed to Tara.
"Do not molest her."
"There is some spell about thee, Tara, which shuts my mouth; beware!"
muttered Gunga, retreating; "it may not always be so."
"Bear me witness," said Tara to the old priest, "she is threatening me."
"Ah, daughter," he replied, smiling, "fear not such as she; the Mother
is good to thee; and they cannot harm thee so long as thou art holy and
pure."
"I did not tell thee to quarrel with her," said Moro Trimmul angrily,
seizing Gunga's arm as she approached, and dragging her within the
shadow of the pillar. "Art thou mad, or has any one given thee drink,
Gunga?"
"I spoke to her kindly, which is more than thou darest to do," retorted
the girl sharply. "What answer did I get? Pure? Why should she be pure?
I tell thee there is a spell about her neck--I saw it glittering among
the flowers--which put me back: I could not speak. Yes, Moro Trimmul,
if it be only to put that spell under my foot, and crush it with
her throat, I will do it; yes, I will earn the gold; let her see to
herself."
"Good," he replied; "then I can trust thee. Come to me to-morrow,
and fail not." And then, naked to the waist, with his soft glossy
hair falling over his shoulders, and his fine figure displayed to the
best advantage, Moro Trimmul passed out, and took his place among the
reciters.
Gunga's eyes followed him. "Drink!" she muttered; "drink! he said that.
Well, better drink than this madness, which is worse." And, sitting
down, leaning against a pillar, she hid her face in her garment, and
sobbed bitterly.
Just then, one of the ordinary processions round the temple formed
opposite the shrine. Priests, bearing offerings of flowers and lighted
lamps, holy water and incense, preceded by musicians, and chanting
a hymn, passed out into the court. Several of the temple girls were
dancing before it; and Tara, led on by an excitement she could not
control, had seized a pair of cymbals, and began to clash them in the
cadence of the hymn as the procession moved.
Three times round and round did the priests pass, and at the second
Gunga joined it, dancing wildly and tossing her arms on high as she
circled with the rest. Tara, however, remained among the priests,
singing with them; yet, in the elastic grace of her step, as well as in
the expression of her face, it was evident that she shared the fervour
of the scene, and could not control herself, while her clear ringing
voice mingled sweetly with the deeper-toned chant of the men.
Maloosray saw Tara, and watched the eyes of Moro Trimmul wandering from
one girl to the other with an intense expression of passion. "Ah, my
poor friend!" he said to himself, "that is the devil sitting at thy
heart, and looking out of thine eyes! Alas! alas! who is she--that
girl?" he asked of Jeswunt Rao, who sat by him.
"She is our new Moorlee," replied the man; "is she not beautiful?--But
listen to Moro Trimmul."