A weary delay and suspense had been endured till the day broke. Tara
had been told, in kind and respectful tones, by the young Khan, whose
protection she had claimed, to rest in the palankeen, and he had
considerately shut the door to prevent annoyance to her by his men. So
she sat undisturbed, but listening to the fearful din from the town and
temple, shuddering at every cry and shriek; and when all was at last
silent, speculating upon the probable fate of her father, and of her
mother and Radha, in a dreamy uncertainty, mingled with extreme terror.
What had happened? That the town had been surrounded by the King's
troops there could be no doubt; yet why the violence? Who could the
young leader of the party be, by whom she had been arrested, who spoke
her own Mahratta tongue so softly and so well? A strange thing, for he
was evidently a Mussulman of rank. He had looked so grand and beautiful
as the torchlight flashed upon his bright steel morion and silvery coat
of mail. She had never seen aught like him before. He might resemble
the god Rámchunder, she thought, when he went to battle with the demon
Rawun; and she shut her eyes at a vision at once so beautiful and so
terrible. Her gentle mind was all confusion, mingled with dreadful and
undefined anticipation of misery; yet one thing was clear, she had
been saved by that noble youth from Moro Trimmul and Gunga's united
design--saved from worse than death.
The torch carried with her palankeen had been extinguished in the
surprise, but the torch-bearer had been detained, and she could see him
sitting near the litter pouring a drop or two of oil upon it now and
then to keep it alight, yet without flaring. Once it did blaze up, and
revealed for an instant the faces of the bearers sitting on their hams
in a group, and the horsemen with Fazil in his bright armour standing
around them; but all were strangers, else she would have spoken
again--anything to divert her brooding thoughts and misery.
As the grey light of dawn increased she could see, through the small
Venetian blinds of the litter, that the royal horsemen stood in groups
at a short distance, all with their swords drawn. One party watched
Moro Trimmul, who, tightly swathed in a cotton sheet so that he could
not use his arms, sat upon his horse, which was tied to another.
Gradually she could see his features, gloomy and stern; savage, indeed,
as he writhed in the bandage which he was powerless to remove. Near
him, on a strong pony, sat the girl Gunga, covered with a coarse white
sheet, which had been thrown over her. A short stout man was holding
her pony's head, and his own horse stood beside her. Around were the
soldiers, all mounted, and apart from them their young leader, on a
powerful white horse, which stood still, tossing its head, and champing
its bit occasionally.
Past this figure, upon which her eyes rested wonderingly, as the
growing daylight revealed it more fully, she looked up to the glen,
and temple, and town, where all was still--a silence she thought like
death. The usual sounds of waking life, the music at the temple, which
always played as daylight broke, the earliest morning hymns, and clash
of cymbals, were all wanting. They were at the mouth of the glen in a
small paddock, near an old temple; she knew the place perfectly, and
many a time had wandered there with her mother, or, with other girls,
in search of flowers, and pieces of frankincense from the ancient
trees which grew among some ruined walls. If the service in the temple
had not been interrupted, it would have been proceeding at this hour,
and the sound would come clearly to the place where they were; but the
stillness was not broken. The men about her occasionally conversed in
low tones or in whispers, but were for the most part silent.
It was now light enough to move, and the young Khan, calling to the
bearers, bade them take up the litter and proceed. They were about to
do so, when Tara again renewed her piteous appeal to him.
"O do not take me away!" she cried, "O release me! I can find my way up
the mountain. My father was in the temple; my mother and all my people
look for me. O noble sir, what am I to you? let me go; by your honour,
do not deceive me!"
"Not so, lady," said Fazil, stooping from his horse towards the litter.
"It is not fit for thee to go alone after last night's disturbance; and
there are rough folk up yonder, for whom I will not answer with one so
fair as thou art. No one ever relied in my honour that was deceived.
Still trust, lady, and I will see thee safe amongst thy people; fear
not."
"O noble sir," said Tara sobbing, "I do trust, I will trust; but O,
give me not to him yonder, who is bound. He would have carried me away,
and dishonoured me. O sir, you have been my preserver from this danger,
and I kiss your feet. My father is Vyas Shastree, the chief priest of
the temple, and we are well known. Take me to him, or send for him, and
he and my mother will bless you. O noble sir, deceive not a helpless
girl!"
"Vyas Shastree!" cried Gopal Singh, who had overheard the latter part
of Tara's passionate appeal; "then this, Meah Sahib, is his daughter
Tara, the strange new Moorlee; so beautiful that they say she bewitches
all men who see her. Art thou not she, O girl? art thou not Tara, the
Moorlee? Speak truly."
"I am Tara," she replied, "but no Moorlee. I serve only in the temple."
"It is a lie," cried Gunga sharply; "she is a Moorlee, and one of
us; do not believe her. Was she not dancing in the temple when the
disturbance began? He carry her off, Meah Sahib?" she cried to Fazil
Khan, pointing to Moro Trimmul. "I tell you we had all arranged to go
together, and because she is more dainty than I am, he got a palankeen
for her."
"Peace, girl," cried Fazil; "be not shameless."
"O noble sir," exclaimed Tara, interrupting him, "heed her not; what
matter what she says? only take me to my father, then you will know the
truth. Indeed, indeed, I am no Moorlee like her; and forgive me for
saying so much, but you are kind, and so I speak."
"Who is this girl?" said Fazil sternly to Moro Trimmul. "What art thou
doing with her? Is she Vyas Shastree's daughter?"
"I give no answer; find out for yourself. Why do you ask of me?"
replied Moro Trimmul sullenly. "Cut me to pieces, but you get no speech
from me."
"It is no use, Meah, asking him," said Gopal Singh; "let us take her up
into the town, and see after her people."
"Not yet," returned Fazil. "My father will most likely encamp at that
village yonder, among the trees. Let these persons remain here, and we
will go and see what they have been doing in the town. Stay thou here,
Shêre Khan, with the men. See that no one disturbs this girl; keep
the others apart, and wait for us by the trees yonder. Fear not," he
continued to Tara; "I will bring news of thy people; keep close within
the palankeen, and no one can harm thee;" and so saying, he turned his
horse in the direction of the pass.
"Fear not, lady," said Shêre Khan, a fine old soldier; "he will be
as good as his word. Ay, look after him; the bravest, gentlest, most
faithful master that ever men served under. Yes, trust to his honour;
he will not deceive thee, he is too brave and too innocent for that."
For the time it was a sweet assurance to Tara, and one utterly
unexpected; for Mussulmans--or Toorks, as the Mahrattas called
them--had hitherto been terrible people in her imagination; but the
dread for her father lying at her heart had as yet no relief, and her
suspense and terror continued.
Leaving Tara with his party below, Fazil Khan, with Gopal Singh, and
others, rode up the pass, as soon as the rugged path could be safely
traversed. What had happened in the temple? It was clear there had been
some fighting--that Fazil had expected from the Mahratta chiefs; they
would hardly be taken without resistance, and there was an undefined
dread lying at his heart, that if the fanatical spirit of the men had
been aroused by the Peer, some evil might have been done to the Hindu
people or to the temple. Again and again he regretted that that holy
person had not been sent on to Sholapoor with the main body of the
force, and blamed himself for not having foreseen mischief.
Fazil Khan by no means shared the grim detestation of Hindus as
infidels, in which his father gloried; and he had been no willing
listener to the denunciations poured out against them by the Peer and
other preachers, in the sermons on the Jéhâd or religious war, which
had been preached at the capital and in camp. True, his father and the
Peer, as well as others, resented the mingling, under the green banner
of the faith, of Mahratta infidels with Moslems; but Fazil knew them
to be good and true soldiers; and his friendship for Bulwunt Rao, and
experience of his devotion, had changed the young Khan's feelings
very materially. Perhaps, also, Bulwunt Rao's character had, in some
respects, softened the Khan's dislike of "infidels," "Kaffirs," as he
called them; but on occasions, the old fanatical spirit would break
through all restraint, and urge him to deeds for which he had but
little remorse. Too justly, therefore, Fazil feared this might have
been such an occasion.
They gained the summit of the pass as the sun's rays, rising through
lines of cloud which hung over the eastern horizon, spread like a rosy
fan into the blue and yellow sky above, tinging the lower lines of
cloud with tints of scarlet and gold, against which the dark purple
masses of mountain stretching into the plain stood out in bold relief.
About the space between the town and the edge of the mountain, some of
the Abyssinian horsemen were distributed in groups; while further on
were other bodies of men, some mounted, others leading their horses
up and down. The Nagarchees, or kettle-drummers of each body, were
beating the assembly vigorously, and single men were rapidly arriving
from other quarters and joining their divisions. Fazil rode on with
his companions, looking for somebody he knew, who might give him news
of his father, when, from behind a mass of buildings which formed the
corner of a street outside the town gate, a cavalcade approached, led
by men of his own Paigah, and in the midst of which rode his father,
the Peer, and Ibrahim Khan, the leader of the Abyssinians, accompanied
by the tall, martial figure of Pahar Singh.
A hearty greeting ensued from all, and Fazil saw that his father and
the Peer were flushed with excitement, while in the severe threatening
aspect of Pahar Singh, there was an expression which he could not
define, which might be either habitual--the result of the night's
fatigue, or something more--perhaps grief.
"Come on, my son," cried the Khan cheerily; "we have ordered up
provisions for the men, and can rest here in the Gosai's Mutt, before
we ride on to Sholapoor, and get some kichéri cooked, which our friend
Ibrahim Khan has promised to see after. Inshalla! we sent many a
Kaffir to hell last night before his time," he continued, twisting up
his moustaches, "and Tooljapoor will long remember firing upon Afzool
Khan's men and killing true believers! but we did not get that Brahmun
of Sivaji's,--what was his name, Pahar Singh?--though he was there when
we came; and that was a pity. M--M--M----"
"Moro Trimmul," said Pahar Singh, interposing.
"Ay, that was it--thanks, friend; and what hast thou done, my son?"
"I have taken him!--that Moro whom ye sought," returned Fazil, "with
two women and their servants."
"Now Alla be praised!" cried the Peer, "that he fell into thy hands,
Meah, for that crowns our work; and alive?"
"Alive and unhurt, Huzrut."
"Are you sure it is he?" asked Pahar Singh. "There are as many Moro
Trimmuls as there are Tannajee Maloosrays!"
"Your nephew says it is. He, and a humpbacked servant or retainer of
yours, both knew him," returned Fazil.
"Yes, uncle," cried Gopal Singh, who now joined the group, "it is the
true man; but he is sullen, and will not speak. We have left him below,
safely bound; Lukshmun is watching him as a dog watches a rat, and
there are all the young Khan's men and ours with him."
"Go, bring him up," said Afzool Khan; "let us examine him, and take his
statement."
"Good, my lord; my nephew will go for him, if a Hindu may be trusted,"
said Pahar Singh, as Fazil thought, with a sneer.
"Certainly," replied the Khan, "let him be brought."
"And the women, Meah?" asked Gopal Singh.
"Not yet," he replied; "let the Brahmun come first;" and the young man,
turning his horse, galloped towards the pass.
"What women?" asked the Khan carelessly.
"Two who were with him," replied his son. "I will tell you of them
afterwards."
The house they were going to was only a few yards distant; Ibrahim Khan
rode on, saluting them as he passed, and they dismounted and entered.
"Embrace me, son," said the Khan, before he seated himself, "and give
thanks to God for the victory. Alla has been merciful, and has----"
"Yes, he has permitted his servants to do vengeance on the infidels,"
said the Peer, interrupting Afzool Khan; "the idols of Satan have been
overthrown, and their altar sprinkled with the blood of their infidel
priests."
"Protection of God!" cried Fazil; "the temple has not been harmed, nor
its people, I trust? We had no war against priests, father."
"Not the temple, Meah--not the temple," returned the Peer, rubbing his
hands together complacently. "It would take a good deal of gunpowder
to blow it up, and we have none; but for the rest, the work was well
done. Inshalla! they will not be able to renew their devil-worship;
and when the King, on whom be peace, gives permission, I--I, Peer Syud
Bundagee--will come and destroy this house of idols, and build a mosque
upon it; and true believers will be feasted with cow's flesh slain
within its precincts. Ul-humd-ul-illa, who hath given us the victory!"
"Father," said the young man gravely, "is it as he says?"
"Even so, my son, and thank God for it; and I have vowed to give a
thousand rupees to the work, in memory of the victory," replied Afzool
Khan.
Fazil turned away, sick at heart. What evil might not have been done?
more, even, than his fears had anticipated.
"And thou hast no congratulation for thy father, Fazil?" asked the
Khan, in a tone of disappointment.
"O father, a thousand that thou art safe through last night," cried
Fazil, "and----"
"No rejoicing for victory over the infidels?" asked the priest, with
a sneer. "Thou hast a rare sympathy with them, I know, Meah Sahib; is
this seemly in a Mussulman?"
"Not with rebels, not with the King's enemies," returned Fazil quickly;
"but I never warred against priests and women yet, nor did he. What
hath been done, father?"
"Well, son," replied the Khan, "they would not let us in after those
Mahratta rebels, and Pahar Singh there broke down the door; meanwhile
some of our men had been shot, for they fired first, and Huzrut there
cried 'Deen, Deen!' and we all rushed in pell-mell and cleared the
court; that is all." He said this apologetically, Fazil thought, and
feared to tell the rest.
"Will you come with me, Pahar Singh?" said the young man; "you know the
place; I would see it."
"Yes, I will come," said the chief, rising, and sighing as he replied;
"perhaps it could not be helped, and yet some things were done which
will stir Hindu minds sorely throughout the country. Come, Meah Sahib;
it is not a pleasant sight, but I will go with you."
"Keep the prisoner till I return, father," continued Fazil; "I would
fain hear what he says for himself."
"If thou wilt go, son, return quickly," replied the Khan, "but I had
rather thou didst not. What is the use of it? what is done is done;"
and Fazil thought his father sighed.
"I would rather see the worst with my own eyes, father," replied Fazil,
"than hear lies from others. Come, sir," he added to Pahar Singh, who
waited for him, "I attend you."
"He will be vexed at what he finds," said the Khan when Fazil was gone;
"and it will distress his young heart. He has never seen the like, and
it requires older eyes, like thine and mine, Huzrut, to look on such
sights unmoved."
"Ay, true," replied the Peer; "but one or two battle-fields will be
enough to cure him, and methinks he is over-tender to infidels. Well,
we shall see what he advises about this Brahmun, for he is clear in
council. The man ought to die."
"He will not care about the men," said the Khan, musing abstractedly,
"but about the women who are dead; and that loving heart of his
mother's which she gave him, will be grieved. God knows I would not
have had it so."
"Ameen!" said the Peer, "nor I, Khan. But they were only Kaffirs
after all, and did not Feroze Shah, of blessed memory, make a pile of
infidels' heads before the gate of Gulburgah fort?"
Afzool Khan did not answer--he appeared ill at ease: and the priest,
taking his beads from his waist-band, settled himself on his heels,
with his eyes shut, assuming an attitude of complacent meditation on
things divine, as they passed rapidly through his fingers.