Fazil Khan had followed the progress of his father up the mountain-side
with intense interest. The little pavilion on the knoll, the group
of Brahmuns already there, and the open and nearly level spot
which had been selected as the place of meeting, were distinctly
visible from where he stood with Bulwunt Rao, and a few other of his
trusty associates and retainers. Around, the horsemen--now mostly
dismounted--were dispersed in picturesque groups, talking together or
lying lazily upon the soft sward holding their horses' bridles, and
shading their eyes from the sun.
In the town through which his father had gone, there appeared no stir.
A few men were lounging about the gate, and upon the bastion near it,
and thus were looking out upon the Moslem horsemen apparently in idle
curiosity. The gate was open, and the townspeople, and women with jars
of water on their heads, were passing to and fro unconcernedly as
usual. There was nothing to excite suspicion or apprehension, except
in the mode of reception of his father, and the strange, unusual
proposition, that the first interview should be on the mountain-side,
and alone; but Bulwunt Rao had explained this characteristically, and
with a fair show of reason, and Fazil, though uneasy, was obliged to be
content: there was no remedy now.
So the Khan's progress in his palankeen had been watched with intense
anxiety as he ascended the rugged pathway. At times the bearers could
be seen, and the priest holding the side of the litter to help himself
along: again the thick foliage, and turns in the road, hid them from
view. At length Fazil saw the Brahmuns on the knoll rise and advance a
few steps, and the palankeen emerge upon the open space, where it was
set down; and his father got out, adjusted his turban and shawl, and
stood with the rest. Then the bearers and the priest moved a little
aside; and as the two men from above appeared, his father advanced to
meet them, and embraced one.
It was but for a moment, and the fatal result was at once apparent.
With a cry of horror, which aroused many around him who had not been
watching the proceedings above, Fazil saw his father reel and fall,
rise again, as his sword flashed in the air, and with the Peer maintain
the unequal combat we have already described. No sound reached those
below; they could only see the flashing of the weapons in the sun,
and the struggle of the combatants. Involuntarily, Fazil urged on his
horse. Alas! of what avail now? Others had been watching as well as he;
and the blast of the horn, which rose shrill and quivering as the Khan
fell, was answered by volleys of matchlock shots from the woods around.
The gates of the town were shut, and the walls and bastions manned as
thickly as men could stand on then, whose fire on the horsemen below
was hot and deadly.
The effect of the surprise upon the helpless cavaliers need not be
detailed. Panic-stricken, and hemmed in on every side, they rode hither
and thither, vainly seeking places of egress through the woods, or
by the way they came, and were shot down in scores either where they
stood, or as they gathered in groups and charged hither and thither
in the vain attempt to reach a foe. Among these, Fazil Khan, with
Bulwunt Rao and some others, had kept together; and, in the emergency,
Bulwunt's clear perception, not only of the danger, but the best means
of extrication from it, saved his young master. On the first perception
of his father's fate, Fazil had seen that it was impossible to give
help. The town and its walls stood between him and the ascent to the
fort, and were utterly impassable. His next idea, in his grief and
desperation, was to die with his men as martyrs to the faith; and
he was about to dismount, and take his chance on foot, when Bulwunt
stopped him.
"No, Meah," he cried, "not while there is hope. They who will be
helpless indeed without you, will need you yonder in camp. If it must
be, I will die with you, but not now. Follow me, and we will soon join
them."
Well was it for Fazil Khan that in his retainer he possessed equally,
a devoted friend and one who had known the country as a youth. In
his recent visit to the fort, Bulwunt Rao had explored some of his
old haunts. One pathway, lying near that by which they had come, was
hardly visible from the plain, but if it could be gained, it opened
out afterwards into a long glade, which joined the main-road below.
It might be guarded, and they could but fight their way through it or
fall. Certainly it was better than the way they had come, before which,
from the deadly fire maintained there, the horsemen had already fallen
in a heap.
"Look," continued Bulwunt Rao, pointing to the entrance to the
main-road, "there is no hope there. They have been at their old trick
of felling trees across it, and no horse can pass. The Abyssinians
have fallen in a heap, and if we try, we shall but follow them. We need
not be martyrs yet, Meah," he laughed cheerfully. "Now, set your teeth,
my sons," he continued to the men around, "and follow me. We may not
all get through; but, Bismilla! come, and let God take whom he pleases."
There might have been fifty men; and others, as many more
perhaps,--as they saw these ride together in a desperate race in one
direction,--joined them. Bulwunt Rao and Fazil were leading; and as
they approached what seemed a portion of impervious wood, Fazil's heart
failed him for a moment. "You are wrong, Bulwunt Rao," he cried. "We
cannot get through this--let us turn."
"Madman!" exclaimed the other, seizing the bridle of his horse. "By
your mother and sister, I swear I am right! Follow me, my children,"
he shouted, looking back, while he again urged his horse to its utmost
speed; "we are near now."
He was right. A portion of the jungle jutted out beyond the rest, and
made a slight shoulder, as it were, behind which was the path. As
they turned round the corner, they saw a body of foot-soldiers drawn
up across it; but ere these could raise their matchlocks to fire, the
impetuous horsemen were among them, trampling some down, and hewing
fiercely at others with their long Spanish swords.[19] The attack was
irresistible, and, the first line of men forced, they encountered no
others. Straggling shots were fired at them from the sides of the
mountain, but without effect; and after riding nearly a mile down the
glade at the same speed, the pathway turned into the main-road, and
they heard the din of the fight die away behind them. Of the fifteen
hundred gallant cavaliers who had ridden that morning from the camp at
Jowly, they were the only survivors.
While Nettajee Palkur was finishing his bloody work on those who
remained after Fazil Khan's escape, by closing up the pathway, and
attacking from all sides at once, such of the horsemen as remained
in the field,--Moro Trimmul was busy with his part of the general
slaughter; and as the fugitives rode on, the din of the fight behind
growing fainter as they proceeded, they were met by that of the greater
work in front,--more furious, and more terrible.
Yet they pressed on, until, reaching a rising-ground which overlooked
the field, they could see it all in its hideous reality. The Mahrattas
had seized the Beejapoor guns, and that point of defence no longer
remained to the Mahomedans. Thousands of the enemy's footmen, in
compact masses, were charging disordered groups of men huddled
together, who made a vain resistance. Great numbers of horses were
careering madly about, but, for the most part, the troop-horses were
still at their pickets, and were now protected by the Mahrattas. It was
evident that the surprise had been as complete and irretrievable as at
the fort.
Casting his eyes round this field, in sickening apprehension--indeed,
in almost hopeless despair--the young Khan looked towards the tents
where he had left his sister and Lurlee. The tents were standing, but
the outer enclosure walls were thrown down, and a crowd of followers
and soldiers were apparently struggling together in the plunder of what
they contained. The place was apart from the field itself, and Fazil
pointed to it; he could not speak.
The men with him had had no time for thought. From the moment the Khan
had died at Pertâbgurh till they drew rein on the eminence over the
camp, they had ridden for life. But the worst was now evident; and
what they had hoped to find, was gone. The conviction that all their
companions,--those whom they had loved in life, were dead, at once fell
upon their hearts; and Bulwunt Rao, and many another rough veteran,
burst into passionate weeping.
Fazil appeared calm, but it was the calm of desperation and of misery.
"Why do you weep, friends?" he said. "They are all dead; why should we
live? Death is better than dishonour! Come and see--Bismilla!"--and he
turned his horse's head in the direction of the tents.
None thought of the risk. "Bismilla!" shouted the men, as, with teeth
hard set for a last struggle in life, they rode a mad race to their old
camp. Near it they passed many a familiar face lying upturned to the
sun; and, hewing their way through a crowd of plunderers which were
upon the area that had been covered by the Khan's tents, Fazil saw that
their walls were torn down, and that no one remained; and in the bed of
the rivulet which, lying low, screened them from observation, they drew
rein. In his misery Fazil would have dismounted, and again sought death
on foot, but Bulwunt Rao saw the intention, and prevented it, as he had
done before.
"No, no, Meah," he said roughly; "you are our master now; and as the
gods have enabled me to save you once to-day, so we will all try again.
If they you sought have been taken, they are in honourable safety with
the Rajah: if they are dead, there is no help but in submission to
God's will."
A shout from several of the men caused Fazil to look round. He saw
some persons running towards the party who had emerged from the thick
jungle on the other side of the stream. They were grooms who had hidden
themselves.
One of them clasped Fazil's knees. "They are safe," he cried; "Meah,
they are gone this way with the hunchback and Ashruf, who would not let
us follow lest we should be seen. They went down the river; and see!
here are their tracks. Come!"
What need to speak more now? The new interest absorbed all other
considerations. Several of the grooms were good trackers, and the
hoof-marks of the two ponies could not be mistaken. They knew them well.
Late in the afternoon--often bewildered in deep silent forests, often
thrown out, often despairing of success, often passing hard rocky
ground where Fazil could see no tracks whatever, but where Bulwunt
Rao and the trackers held their way with confidence, a small group
of people were discovered, from a knoll where the trackers stood for
a time uncertain, sitting near a large banian tree, on the bank of a
mountain stream.
At a little distance, too, from them, sat a few men armed with
matchlocks, who were apparently guarding the rest.
Fazil and the scouts approached, cautiously leading his horse; and the
first greeting was a rough one from the guards, who raised their guns
to fire; but the next, a frantic cry of welcome from the hunchback and
Ashruf, who ran forward and prostrated themselves before him.
"O Meah, they are safe--they are safe!" cried Lukshmun, rising first.
"Come and see," he cried, bursting into tears; "and the gods have sent
thee."
Hearing his cry, Goolab rushed forward, clasping his knees, and, unable
to speak, was sobbing passionately.
Yes, they were safe--Lurlee and Zyna. A rude bower of leafy branches
had been hastily made, with a screen of boughs twisted into stakes in
front; and so concealed were they by the thick brushwood, apart from
the grassy glade, that the little commotion which Fazil's coming had
caused, had not been heard by them. Having dismounted, and preceded by
old Goolab, who, in her uncontrollable joy, now ran before, screaming
the news of his arrival, he entered the enclosure--and the two desolate
women, whose utter despair nothing as yet had soothed or alleviated,
fell upon his neck and wept aloud.
How long they sat into the night they could not tell. Kakrey, the
Mahratta officer who had followed the party by Moro Trimmul's order,
had overtaken them; and, touched by the beauty and sorrow of the women,
had not molested them. The nearest Mahomedan garrison was Kurrar, a
town at some distance; but he had engaged to guide and protect them
thither, and the reward promised by Lurlee was at once confirmed, and
even enhanced by Fazil. Kakrey had already told them that the Khan's
escape was impossible; and they were thus prepared for the sad news
which Fazil brought.
Kakrey decidedly objected, however, to Fazil's horsemen, and even to
Lukshmun and Ashruf; they were strangers, and would be inevitably
suspected. Fazil and his men must take another road, he said; and
the ladies must submit to hardships among mountain villages and
rough tracks for some days. They had no other chance of escape but in
disguise, and alone with him. He had already procured rough food and
coarse clothes, and there was little time for rest; ere the morning he
must take them away.
Poor Lurlee! All night while Fazil sat there, she had pored over the
book of astrological diagrams in a hopeless puzzle of mind. Why should
she have been mistaken? Why should her husband have died who had left
her so hopeful in the morning? Were they all wrong? was all this, the
faith of her life, false?
It seemed so; but one thing was at least certain, that Tara's nature
and Fazil's were alike; and she appeared, in spite of her grief, to
return to this discovery with a peculiar zest. "I am not wrong," she
said, "in this; look!"--but we will spare the detail. She was too much
bewildered by far, to understand as yet the loss that had befallen her,
nor was she at all convinced that she was a widow. No, the stars could
not be wrong; and for all they could say, she only believed the more
that the Khan would return. "Who had seen him die?"
Fazil was convinced of Kakrey's good faith. Bulwunt Rao unhesitatingly
answered for him. They were neighbours, and had been boys together.
Fazil's promises of reward were too profuse to have aught in
competition with them. It was hard to persuade Zyna that he must
leave her again; but as they were situated, they could not remain
together, and must separate. For Fazil would not leave his men, and
he determined, with Bulwunt and the hunchback, to hover as long as
possible about the vicinity of Wye. He might be joined by other
fugitives, he might rescue many of his people, and even make head
against the enemy; above all, perhaps he might get news of Tara, and
assist her. He should avoid the Mahratta horse, and with a guide
like Bulwunt Rao, and one of Kakrey's followers, who volunteered to
accompany him, he could either conceal himself or advance as needful.
So, with many tears, and almost despairing, Lurlee and Zyna, dressed
as peasant women in the coarsest clothes, left him ere morning dawned.
Lurlee was not remarkable; but the fair skin and beautiful features of
Zyna were often objects of wondering interest and admiration among the
mountain peasantry, as they journeyed on.
* * * * *
Three days afterwards, Fazil and his men, who had been joined by other
stragglers on foot and on horseback, were lying during the day in
the place of concealment which had been chosen by Kakrey's follower,
and approved of by Bulwunt Rao and the hunchback. In the depth of
the jungle near Wye, there was a large banian tree, planted by a
small temple now deserted, because of some evil repute. The tree had
flourished while the temple had decayed, and was large enough, with
its offsets, to have sheltered thousands. The outside boughs trailed
on the ground, screening everything within, where the bare, gaunt
branches, and the naked roots falling from them, rose high into the
air, covered above with a thick foliage. A bright rill sparkled past
the tree; grass was abundant on the hill-sides, and a liberal price for
grain had induced some villagers near, to supply the men's wants for
a few days. Every day, the hunchback and the boy Ashruf, disguising
themselves as mendicants, had sung ballads in the town of Wye, in order
to gain information of passing events.
They were lying concealed in this hiding-place when, in the afternoon
of the third day, the hunchback broke in upon Fazil and some others
sitting together. "Bid them all go away," he cried excitedly; "I have
strange news, Meah, for thee,--for thine ear only."
The men rose and went to a distance. "Can it be of his father?" they
said.
No, it was not of him; he was beyond all hope now, and his bloody head
festering in the sun above the gate of Pertâbgurh.
"Meah," said the man, in a low voice, "Tara the Moorlee is alive, but
they are going to burn her to-morrow; and I saw them taking wood to
the river-side to make the pile. They say the goddess came to her at
Pertâbgurh, and told her, before the Rajah, to be a Sutee, and he is
going to make a great show of her to the people. I waited till I saw
her come into Wye in a palankeen, and I would have told her you were
here, but I could not get near her for the crowd--they were throwing
flowers upon her. The people do not know her name, but I knew her: it
is Tara. O Meah, you will not let the Brahmuns do this!"
"By Alla and the Prophet, no!" cried the young man, starting to his
feet. "Dost thou know the place?"
"I--I can lead a Duróra on the house," said Lukshmun hesitatingly.
"God forgive me, it is not the first I have led, and I observed it all
before I left."
"Where is Bulwunt Rao? Call him."
"He is asleep," replied Lukshmun; "I will go and bring him."
"Meah wants you; come," he said to Bulwunt Rao, after waking him; and
when he joined Fazil, all was told him; and the three men consulted
long and earnestly as to how the girl might be rescued.
"O, were but Rama and a score of Pahar Singh's Ramoosees here," said
Lukshmun, "we could go and bring her to you to-night, without waking
her; but your Mussulmans would make but a poor hand of that work."
So, after discussing the subject in every way, there seemed no chance
of success but in an effort to carry her off from the pile itself.
The attempt might succeed or fail; but the men who would undertake it
were at least desperate, and to abandon the girl to her fate without
endeavouring to rescue her, was not to be thought of. In any case, they
must leave their hiding-place on the morrow, or starve. A long march
might take them at once beyond the disturbed country; and they were
not, in their present mood, likely to falter in their project.
Tara! Her name aroused a thousand sweet memories. The day after the
interview with the Rajah, she was to have been demanded as a subject of
their King; and, in the Rajah's apparently submissive mood, Fazil had
anticipated no refusal. What had happened to place her in the situation
in which she was, he could not conjecture; but Bulwunt Rao and Lukshmun
understood at once that she was the victim of Brahmun intrigues excited
by Moro Trimmul, and rejoiced in the prospect of frustrating his
intentions. Finally, the whole project was explained to the men; and in
their hearty acquiescence, and in the excitement of a new and desperate
action, the young Khan lay down that night, and, for the first time
since the slaughter, slept soundly.
FOOTNOTE:
[19] The Portuguese of Goa used to import large quantities of Spanish
and Genoa, sword-blades. They were held in high estimation at
Beejapoor, and they are still often to be met with in the country. The
Rajah Sivaji's famous sword Bhowani, with which he killed Afzool Khan,
is a Genoa blade of the first water.