Among the events which passed at Sholapoor after the arrival of the
Khan, was the disposition of the prisoner Moro Trimmul. Heavily ironed
and closely guarded, he had been brought from Tooljapoor on horseback,
his irons loosened from one leg, and, when they were again riveted, he
was consigned to the custody of the Khan's own troop. When the fate
of the Brahmun hung in a balance, and Fazil, fearing him, and knowing
his indefatigable and successful attempts in propagating the political
influence of the Mahrattas, had at first urged his execution, then his
transmission to Beejapoor,--there was not a dissentient voice in the
small council; but at Sholapoor the aspect of affairs had changed:
the priest and his father had sent for Moro Trimmul, and examined him
in private; and the sullenness of the man had apparently broken down
before the threats of being despatched to Beejapoor, and submitted to
his fate with the King.
The Khan and the priest were no believers in the honesty of Mahrattas;
and at the second of these examinations, the Brahmun was plied with
temptation such as was difficult to resist, and to which he yielded
with apparent reluctance, but yielded nevertheless. To assist them
in speaking with the prisoner (for though the priest spoke Mahratta
perfectly well, yet, as a language of infidels, rarely suffered it, as
he said, to defile his mouth; and if he did, subjected that organ to an
excessive purification at the hour of prayer),--a Brahmun, who belonged
to the accountant's department of the state, by name Punto Gopináth,
was employed by the Khan. Of this man he knew but little: but he was a
good Persian scholar, as well as an intelligent official servant of the
kingdom, and the Khan had no doubt of his fidelity.
Nor, indeed, Bulwunt Rao either; who, a bad interpreter himself,
had, on all occasions, been allowed to be present, as a check upon
the Brahmuns. Both had joined in trying to persuade Moro Trimmul to
disclose the intentions of his master, and had always been met with the
same answer, that the Prince only desired recognition of his rights,
and that when he heard for certain of the march of the force, he would
be sure to send ambassadors to explain what had occurred. So it had
come to this, that if ambassadors did arrive within a few days, Moro
Trimmul was to be confronted with them; otherwise, that he was to be
sent back to Beejapoor, to be dealt with as a traitor.
To Bulwunt Rao, whose Mahratta mind was capable of understanding and
appreciating an indirect motive of policy, the Khan's determination
seemed perfectly reasonable; and if Moro Trimmul could by any means be
brought to consent to lead the force through the defiles beyond Wye,
some effect upon the Rajah's position might be obtained. If not, who
was to do it?
To Fazil, however, the position taken up by his father was so
unintelligible, and so unlike his usual straightforward mode of
proceeding, that he feared some extraneous agency was at work. It was
not so, however: it was simply the power which strong minds exercise
over weaker; and by the Brahmun's cool contempt of death, his certainty
that Sivaji would beg for terms, and his willingness to assist if he
did,--the Khan's suspicions were overcome.
Nor was it strange, perhaps, that after a time the Khan appeared to
attach no particular culpability to Moro Trimmul's attempt to carry
off Tara. He had explained the act, by her father having tired of
her presence in the house as the jealous enemy of his sister, a new
and beautiful wife, and had requested him to take her away to Wye,
to devote her to one of the temples there. Some little force was,
no doubt, necessary; but her father had authorized its being used,
to prevent interference by her mother. What did he care about the
girl?--as a widow she was impure, and her not having performed the
rites of widowhood, placed her beyond the pale of respectability; yes,
the Khan might make a Mahomedan of her, send her to the King, or do
what he pleased with his slave, he had no concern for her now.
The Khan thought this state of the case on the whole more probable, in
all its aspects, than Tara's own story, heard through Lurlee and Zyna.
It did not affect her character, which Moro Trimmul spared no words to
commend.
So the Brahmun grew into favour; and as he did so, the flattery which
he distributed to the Khan and the priest had its effect, in procuring
him liberty, first from his irons, and then of speech with Gopináth and
other persons of his own sect, who came to converse with one so well
known by reputation. The position of all parties continued thus till a
few days after the force had left Sholapoor; when, one morning, as the
Khan reached the halting-place for the day, the arrival of envoys from
the Rajah Sivaji was announced in camp, and without delay they were
summoned to the Khan's presence.
We need not follow the negotiations which ensued; we have only to do
with those who took part in them. Most of us know, too, what Eastern
negotiations are, when weakness is covered by temporizing expedients
of falsehood or treachery. So it has been from the first, so it will
be to the end. Moro Trimmul had well guessed what his master's policy
would be when he laid his fate upon the result; and when he heard
from Bulwunt Rao that the envoys had proffered submission, and begged
of Afzool Khan to advance and partake of the Rajah's hospitality at
Pertâbgurh, where the affairs pending in dispute could be amicably
discussed, he was satisfied--he could understand what was to come.
His own liberation soon followed. Of what use was it confining an
irresponsible agent, when real ambassadors had voluntarily met the
Khan, and declared their master's intention to throw himself on the
royal clemency? So Moro Trimmul was set free.
His first act was to seek Gunga. So long as he had been kept within the
fort at Sholapoor he had heard nothing of her; but the day the force
marched, he had seen her, attended by two stout footmen with sword and
buckler, riding among the camp followers, as the division of horsemen,
under whose charge he was placed, rapidly passed a crowd of them
straggling onwards. She had not observed him, he thought, for she made
no sign of recognition. It had been otherwise, however; and we must
retrace a little this girl's proceedings, in order to comprehend her
present position.
Under that strange fascination which often impels women to endure
more from men who ill-use them than from those who caress them, she
had been unable to remain at Tooljapoor, and after a brief struggle
she had yielded to her destiny. When the Khan discharged her, and the
temporary insensibility of Lukshmun had procured her the gold zone,
which was valuable, the hard, mercenary nature which had grown out of
her vocation, rose as a wall between her and Moro Trimmul, and yet but
for a moment.
It said to her, "You have got all you can from this man, his fate is
evil; you have had many escapes from him, and this is the last. Go!
leave him, you could not save his life if you would; the Mussulmans
hate him, and will destroy him, or imprison him for life. Enough that
you have escaped; go, and be thankful." This was what she thought,
as she picked up the zone when it rolled away, fastened it round her
waist, and walked out of the room. Where was she to go? She dared not
visit the temple. Dead bodies were still lying there, and there was
blood about the streets. She went to Anunda's house, and looked into
all the courts. She saw the dead negro lying among the flowers, and,
horrified at the sight, she started back; and just as some men opened
a door and tried to intercept her, she fled away in terror. She dared
not trust herself in the quiet parts of the town nor in the camp; for
there were many who would have thought little of a stab with a dagger,
or open violence, to rid her of the zone and the valuable ornaments she
had about her. The bazar, however, was safe, and she might meet some
one she knew, and obtain protection.
There were many. Among them Jánoo the Ramoosee, now very tipsy, yet
able to recognize her. He knew she was no friend of Anunda's or Tara's,
and to her he told the same story as he had done to Fazil. "Dead, all
dead!" he cried, as he staggered away--"dishonoured and murdered by the
negroes; and they are buried in the hole beyond the well, without the
gate. Go and see--go and see."
She went up through the gate idly, and sat down beside the great well.
She dared not go beyond it. A large peepul tree hung over it, and a
number of Hindu soldiers were cooking under its shade. She asked for
a few hot cakes, and they gave them, and she ate them there. Then
she wandered into the fields and gardens beyond, and so round to the
Pâp-nâs temple, and sat down on the ledge of rock above the little
stream, which thence leapt plashing down the precipice, looking over
the broad plain, over which the light shadows of fleecy clouds were
chasing each other.
Her eyes filled with tears, for there came back to her, hard and
depraved as she was, many tender memories of the man whom she had loved
passionately;--feared, hated with bitter jealousy, and again loved with
that perversity which is part of the fiercest jealousy, and distorts
every semblance of truth to serve its own purpose. The scene of Tara's
inauguration came back to her memory, and her beauty. "It was not
his fault, Mother," she cried out aloud; "it was thine, to send that
lotos-faced girl to bewitch him, else he had been true to me, and thou
art rightly served for it. He said thou wast a fiend, and feared thee
not; nor do I."
Yes, Tara was gone; would the Mussulman boy, so grand, so beautiful,
ever give up so lovely a captive? Surely not. "Let him have her," she
said: "she will go away, far, far from me and him, and it is well. Yes,
it is well, and what have I to do but follow and watch,--follow and
watch?"
Then she rose, remembering her store of money in a pot under the
fireplace, in a cloister of the temple, where she had lived. Her
clothes, her property, would be gone; what matter, if that were safe?
So she rose up and ran lightly along the plain, back to the gate,
avoiding the new graves; then passed down the bazar and into the temple
court. All the dead had been removed. The scavengers were washing the
court, which she crossed rapidly. As she expected, her room had been
plundered, all her clothes were gone, but the fireplace had not been
disturbed. She closed the door carefully, then sat down for a while
with a beating heart, to see whether she were followed or not; no one
came,--no one had cared to stop her, though she had been seen. With
a small iron bar which lay in a corner, she hastily dug up the clay
plastering of the hearth, and took out the brass vessel she had hidden
there, which contained her savings; there were upwards of a hundred
rupees in it--wealth to her.
Tying these coins carefully into her waist-band, she again went out
into the court, and proceeded to the temple. "Do not go there," cried a
man sweeping; "it is not washed." But she went on.
It was not washed, and was ghastly with dried and clotted blood. She
looked into the shrine, to see what had become of the image, venerated,
feared, and yet even detested. It lay there as it had fallen. No one
had yet dared to touch it, and the wicked eyes still glistened and
sparkled in the light of the lamp which had been placed beside it.
"Aha!" cried the girl exultingly; "lie there, liar and murdering devil,
as he called thee. He did not fear thee, nor do I. Lie there, till they
pick thee up; or why dost thou not rise thyself? Up, Mother, up! shall
I help thee?" she cried mockingly, as she seized the stone hand; but
she dropped it as instantly--it was wet and cold.
As she did so, she fancied the eyes turned spitefully towards her, and
a horrible superstitious terror came into her heart when she looked
at her hand and saw it was covered with blood. Then she shrieked and
fled shuddering, out of the front entrance to the vestibule, across
the court, up the steps, staying only for a moment to wash hurriedly
in the sacred cistern. Thus she went into the bazar, and sought out a
carrier who she knew possessed a strong pony, who agreed to take her to
Sholapoor; and, purchasing a heavy, coarse cotton sheet, she wrapped
herself in it, and, mingling with the crowd of camp-followers, rode
after the force to Sholapoor.
For many days she could get no speech of Moro Trimmul. She had seen him
taken to rivulets and wells to bathe, and he had also seen her; but
though she daily tried, on one pretence or other, to get near him, she
was repulsed. It was enough, however, that she knew where he was.
It was not long after his release ere he discovered her. She did not
importune him, and he could hardly resist the devotion which had
prompted her to abandon what had been her home and follow his fortunes.
He trusted also to induce her, gradually, again to further his designs
against Tara, which, now that her parents, and, as he believed, also
his own sister, were all dead, appeared more probable of success than
before.
If ever this selfish man had felt a pang of real grief in his life, it
was when he had heard of his sister's death. Poor Radha! whom he had
settled at last so well, when any provision for her had become next to
hopeless--Radha, who, with all her faults, was part of his own rugged
nature, polished and set in a more beautiful frame. It was impossible
not to grieve for her. This was the first impression; afterwards there
ensued an element of rejoicing in it, which daily grew stronger. That
he was free--free to act: free from the keen perception and daring
opposition of his sister, which, ever protecting Tara as with a shield,
had only yielded to violence at the last.
Now Tara was within his reach, and, comparatively speaking, in a far
greater measure than before. He knew her to be safe in the family with
whom she had obtained protection. Their own high honour and strict
respectability were guarantee for this. Knowing her helplessness, Moro
Trimmul had but one source of alarm or apprehension: she might allow
herself to be converted to the Mahomedan faith, or it might be done
without her consent. Then, indeed, there would be no hope.
But, on the other hand, was she not a Brahmun--wonderfully learned
for a woman, proud of this learning, and, above all, a self-professed
devotee of the goddess?
"No," he thought, "they may attempt conversion, probably will do so,
but she will resist it: and yet she should not be too long exposed to
a double temptation." Now, therefore, as before, he discussed plans
with Gunga as to what means could be employed to separate Tara from
her new protectors, and carry her away into the wilds of his native
province, where she could be effectually concealed; and his pursuit of
the girl grew once more into a fierce and morbid passion, absorbing and
deadening all other feelings of his life.