A DARING ATTACK.
It is very probable that the readers of this tale have never even
heard of the Beydurs who have some part in it; but their history and
position are interesting, and at the risk of a short digression we will
endeavour to explain enough of both to help to assure the reader that
they are real people, and not mere invention.
The Beydurs, under the name of Veddur, still used by the wilder part
of the tribes who inhabit the mountains and forests of south-western
India, are what is termed ordinarily one of the aboriginal races, as
seen in their native condition in the forests of Travancore and Mysore.
They are savages, wearing little or no clothing, cultivating no land,
except in isolated instances, and subsisting upon fruits, roots, and
the like, and collecting honey, bees-wax, and other forest produce,
which they exchange for such articles of clothing and such necessaries
as are indispensable. These portions of the tribe are now comparatively
few in number, and altogether unimportant. They have been driven at
some ancient period from the plains into the mountains of the west, and
have not emerged from their original barbarism.
Other portions of the tribe which remained, in the plains of southern
India and in Mysore became, in some respects, civilised, and at one
time attained a considerable degree of power, which, however, was
shattered by the great Hindoo dynasties that gradually arose long
before the Christian era, and the Veddurs, now adopting the appellation
of Beydur, became soldiers and tillers of the soil, but never artisans,
or reaching any degree of education. Under chiefs of their own, some
small principalities were formed westward of Madras, some of which
still exist, but most have disappeared in wars with the first Mussulman
invaders and with ourselves. In North-Western Mysore, also, the Beydurs
attained considerable power. They held many strongholds, and were
feudal vassals of several Hindoo dynasties before the arrival of the
Mussulman invaders in the twelfth century; and although the last of
these dynasties, that of Beejanugger, fell to the Mussulman arms after
the battle of Talikote in A.D. 1564, yet the chiefs of the Beydur
tribes submitted to them, and became powerful feudal vassals.
The wars between the Hindoo kingdom of Beejapoor and the Mussulman
kingdoms of the Dekban had continued for several centuries, and their
great field of battle and object of contention was the province which
lies between the rivers Krishna to the north and Tamboodra to the
south, the capitals of which are Moodgul and Raichore. It was sometimes
in possession of the Hindoos and sometimes in the Mussulmans';
thus the allegiance of the Beydur clans became divided; and as the
Mussulmans confirmed their hereditary rights and privileges, many of
the Beydur chiefs entered their service; and, as the tribe at large
were the best infantry soldiers of the period, their service was always
valuable.
This portion of them were the allies and servants of the great Bahmuny
Mussulman dynasty of Gulburgah and Beedur, and rendered essential
service in guarding these southern frontiers, as well as in many
general actions; and from having in the early period been confined
to the frontier of the Tamboodra river, they gradually extended
themselves over the Raichore Dooab, and their chiefs formed small
principalities which originally must have been independent, or held
in feudal service, but which how exist only in name. In northern
Mysore, the chieftainships of Chittledroog, Hurpunhully, once powerful
minor states, were overwhelmed by Hyder Ali and Tippoo Sultan, and
the present representatives are now pensioners under the British
Government; and the last Beydur state, Shorapoor, situated in the
Dooab, which lies between the Bheema to the north and the Krishna
to the south, having rebelled in 1858, was attached, and is now the
property of the Government of His Highness the Nizam.
At the close of the sixteenth century, however, the period of our
tale, this Beydur principality held a high position. A portion of the
tribe had at first, probably about the fourteenth century, crossed
the Krishna, and their earliest settlements were at Korikul, Kukeyra,
and the villages on the left or northern bank of the river; thence
they spread all over the province, their chief or naik selecting
Wakin-Keyra, a village at the extreme end of a rugged chain of
hills, where there was a strong position, as his capital, which he
fortified. The tribe then could muster twelve thousand well-armed
infantry militia; and beside these the Rajah had a force of other
soldiers, horse and foot, amounting to about four thousand more. His
revenues were not derived from the land only, but from dues in various
provinces, being a percentage on the revenues--this, in most instances,
being literally the Beydur's black mail; and as the militia not only
assisted the reigning King of Beejapoor, but protected the whole of his
eastern frontier against aggression by the King of Golconaa, the tribe
was held in high estimation, and certainly fought bravely wherever they
were employed.
Thus, in this history, we find them not only at Juldroog but at
Beejapoor, and marching under Runga Naik to the King's camp, which was
in the field north of the Bheema. These intimate relations between
the Beydurs and the kingdom of Beejapoor continued till its fall
before Aurung Zeeb; and almost the last resistance the great Emperor
encountered in the Dekhan was at Wakin-Keyra, which, after a noble
defence, through several separate sieges, fell at last under the
attack of a very large army which had been summoned from the south of
India for the purpose; and the Rajah, finding Wakin-Keyra too weak and
too confined for a permanent residence, took up a new position in a
secluded basin of the range, and founded the town of Shorapoor, which
is the present capital of the district. Shorapoor had held its own
against the Nizam, the Mahrattas, and Tippoo Sultan. It had avoided
collision with any one, and had increased in wealth; but of late years
it had been misgoverned and oppressed, and the name only of its former
power remained, and it at last fell to rise no more, under the effect
of a foolish attempt on the part of its Rajah to attack a British
force, in which he suffered a disgraceful defeat.
The Beydurs as a people are essentially different from ordinary
Hindoos. Some of them attend Hindoo services and conform to the
ministrations of Brahmins, but for the most part they are followers
of the Lingayet doctrine, or hold to their ancient aboriginal worship
of natural objects, glens, water-falls, rocks, trees, and the like.
They do not accept or desire education in any form, and are of a
freer, bolder type--both in manner and customs--than ordinary Hindoos.
They are great sportsmen in all respects; bold in following tigers,
panthers, and bears on foot; and ordinarily they live upon whatever
game they can shoot or snare. In person both men and women are
remarkably neat and clean, and their homes and villages well kept.
They are also industrious cultivators and farmers, and own a great
quantity of land in their province. They are likewise public carriers
of cotton and salt to and from the coast; and, in short, are rarely
idle, and by no means dissipated. Formerly they were dreaded for raids
on their neighbours, and in cattle-lifting especially were most daring
and expert; but those times and deeds have passed away, though their
memory lives in many a song and legend.
Beydurs hold themselves to have no caste, and they eat everything
except carrion, and such birds or beasts as feed upon it. They also
object to beef, because the slaughter of kine is offensive to Hindoos,
and especially to Brahmins. They marry exclusively into their own
tribe, and rarely have more than one wife, though their chiefs take as
many as they can support.
Perhaps we need not follow the Beydur clans further, and we have
recorded enough to explain the position they occupied at the period of
our tale in the country in which its action is laid, and where the clan
still exists, not in its former rude splendour and strength, but as
peaceful and industrious inhabitants. I may mention that I had intimate
experience of them for eleven years, when, during the minority of the
late and last Rajah, I ruled over them and their province alone. But to
resume.
The time passed pleasantly and quietly in the new home, and there was
no jealous wife to disturb it. Burma's wife was his second, a fine
young woman of hardly twenty as yet. His first wife had died while yet
very young, and had born him no children. The present, Enkama, had
two, and her home was a happy one. She managed her great good-natured
husband admirably; and so long as she did not interfere with his office
as part guardian of the frontier and head of the Kukeyra portion of
the tribe, she had full liberty to do as she pleased with household
and farming affairs. She had many buffaloes and cows, and her dairy
produce was large. She was fond of her gardens, in which all kinds of
vegetables abounded, which she sent regularly to the market at Korikul;
and when the river was fordable, even across the river to Goorgoonta
and other towns. She superintended the ploughing of the land, sowing,
weeding, and gathering in of the crops, with a delight she did not
conceal; and while ready to punish lazy labourers, men or women, was
kind and considerate to those who served her well. Most charitable was
she, too, and kind to all; and, as the people said, there was ever a
blessing following her, and increasing her store. In the house or out
of the house she was never idle. When the morning meal had been served
to all, consisting of piles of jowarree bread, pots full of boiled
pulse, and vegetables, of which she and her husband partook also,
and the floors were plastered with liquid clay, she sat down to her
spinning wheel with her servant, and so worked till it was cool enough
to go out again. Sometimes she rode a strong pony; at others, with a
long staff in her hand, trudged over ploughed fields, or watched the
weeding of crops which, without her supervision, would be carelessly
done by the lazy hussies who were hired to do it. A clever cotton
picker, too; not ashamed to work all day in the field, and carry home
a bundle on her head bigger than any one else's. Withal a pleasant,
cheery woman, of no particular beauty, truly, but of an upright
graceful figure, whose lines were like those of a Grecian statue, with
a pleasant good-natured expression of face, and the whitest teeth. Not
fair in colour, but a rich ruddy brown, which had strong healthy blood
coursing under her skin.
Here was a new friend for Zóra, for whom she took a great liking, and
whom she constantly came to see, bringing with her whole baskets full
of household sweetmeats, vermicelli, fruits, vegetables, and whatever
she thought would be liked; and she always enjoyed a short chat with
the girl under the verandah, or most generally, when the ground was
dry, under the great banian tree. Enkama knew nothing, so to speak,
except tales of the deeds of the Gods, especially of Krishna, and
scraps of the Mahabharut and Ramayun, as she had heard Brahmins and
bards recite them; but she was a great authority upon the subject of
the old wars between the Hindoos and the Toorks, as she called the
Mussulmans, and could recite the ballad legend of King Firoze Shah and
the Goldsmith's Daughter of Moodgul, and the death of King Majahid
Shah, who had broken the image of Hunooman at Humpee. She was thus
a pleasant companion to Zóra, and Zóra in turn appreciated the good
dame's sound practical sense, industry, and kindness. They could not
be intimate friends, because Enkama saw how much she was below Zóra
in knowledge, and how different were the courtly manners of the girl
from those of her own Beydur class; indeed, Zóra's language in ordinary
conversation was so refined in comparison with her own, that she felt
birth and intelligence had separated them very far. Very often she
sent her children with the servant to play under the great tree, and
would find Zóra with other girls, making dolls'-houses or dressing up
dolls, and making dolls' feasts to amuse the little ones. Reader! there
is the same common humanity everywhere, and a Beydur child with a rag
or wooden doll and a pennyworth of sugar to feed her companions is as
proud and happy as the aristocratic child whose doll has cost, we will
not say how much, and whose cradle is trimmed with lace and covered
with eider down.
Then there were a few Mussulman girls in the village who, though
young, could learn something; and their mothers, who knew nothing,
gladly brought them to Zóra, who could teach them sewing, to mend
their father's clothes, how to knit his drawers-strings, and to
begin embroidery. Zóra had sold all her stock of embroidered caps
and boddices, and had gained a good many rupees by them, and she
was working others as fast as she could to get more. So these were
pleasant occupations, and she had pleasant, innocent company; and,
besides all this, she had to help Abba in his "Turreequt, or path to
Heaven;" and, as he could not read, and the books he had were Arabic,
she had to follow his recitation, and when he missed a passage or a
word, to spell it for him as well as she could, when he would give her
the proper pronunciation and explain the meaning, and thus she felt,
if he persevered, that she should gain some superficial knowledge of
that language which might be of use to her hereafter. And was Maria
forgotten? Ah, no! but was the more preciously remembered; and when
Zóra was tired of reading or working, and lay back on the little carpet
she had spread under the giant tree, she could look up among its
interlacing branches and watch the doves and wild pigeons, the flocks
of paroquets, flying in play from branch to branch; the old horned owls
come out of the holes in the tree and peer about, the little grey owls
twitting and constantly on the move, and the beautiful lizards chasing
each other from hole to hole along the deep furrows of the bark; and
listen, too, to the pleasant singing birds, who, though seldom to be
seen among the deep foliage, yet twitter songs of their own which were
pleasant and soothing to listen to. Yes, those were happy days, and
they passed smoothly and uneventfully for some weeks, and as if they
were never to come to an end. But Zóra knew better than this. She
knew that her grandfather's restlessness would again come on him, and
that the Turreequt could not be fulfilled in Kukeyra. Meanwhile, her
dreamy life continued; nor will we say how much the night scene with
the wounded and delirious Abbas Khan mingled with it. Had he forgotten
her? Ah, no! she hoped not, for he seemed ever present with her; but
their lives had drifted so far asunder. And Maria had not replied to
her simple little letter, to which an answer might have arrived by one
of the messengers who constantly brought letters from Beejapoor before
she left the fort. Yet still she trusted and hoped, and the faith of
the girl was not shaken.
Nor was her grandfather idle; and though he was evidently becoming more
and more absorbed in his religious meditations, he had not given up
the concerns of the world. There were only a few families of ignorant
Mussulmans in the village, most of the members of which could not even
repeat the Belief; but these were gathered together on Friday (the
Sabbath) for instruction such as they could comprehend; and as Friday
was the weekly market-day of the little town, many Mussulmans came with
their field and garden produce, and weavers with their manufactures;
and then the old man had larger gatherings and regular prayer services,
and preached to them on simple subjects, most especially against
drinking palm wine, which, not being wine or spirits, was held to
be excusable and allowable. So the residence of the Syud and his
granddaughter at Kukeyra was not devoid of usefulness; and, in spite of
its being a Beydur town, and therefore held to be generally unclean,
their lives were peaceful and undisturbed. But this was not to be of
long continuance.
Huleema, the eldest daughter of the Moolla, a handsome and intelligent
girl, and Zóra's most advanced pupil, had long been betrothed to the
son of the Moolla of a town some miles to the north, where resided the
only Kazee of the province, and where a number of Mussulman weavers
lived. Now, the period of marriage was fixed, the Kazee had consented
to perform the ceremony, and had appointed the day. Invitations had
been issued to all friends, but that to the old Syud was brought by the
girl's father and mother, who besought of him to come to their house
and pronounce the final blessing. There would be such amusement in the
course of the evening as poor folks could provide, and there was an
empty room at his service, while Zóra could remain with the women of
the family.
The old man demurred at first, but Zóra pleaded that he should go. She
had promised the girl to be with her at her marriage if her grandfather
remained at Kukeyra, and as yet he had not signified his intention of
travelling onwards.
The day arrived, and in the afternoon Zóra, casting a sheet about her,
led her grandfather through the village gate and small Bazar up to the
Moolla's house, which was in one of the principal streets, and from
the high roof of which there was an extensive view to the south, west,
and east. A screen of bamboos, covered thickly with date palm leaves,
had been erected as a sunshade, and here most of the women guests
were assembled, who received Zóra with homely courtesy and welcome;
but Huleema could not spare her friend, and Zóra was soon engaged in
the preliminary ceremonies of bathing, anointing with ground turmeric
and sandal wood paste, similar offices being performed by men for the
bridegroom, and these ceremonies, of which we spare the reader the
detail, necessarily occupied some hours.
Meanwhile the old Syud was very happy. The men, and especially the
Kazee of Kembavee, had received him with affectionate courtesy, and
they had placed him in the seat of honour, and offered him sherbet to
drink. Of course there was no one so learned as himself, but the Kazee
was a man of some education, both in Arabic and Persian, and had read
some religious books of an easy character. He had also a knowledge
of law and logic, and a slight acquaintance with ordinary works on
medicine. He had studied in the colleges of Beeder and Beejapoor,
and from the high court of the latter held his diploma as Kazee. The
appointment he occupied was a lucrative one, as his dues extended all
over the province. Some other intelligent guests were present, and
the evening passed pleasantly enough. Then the Shubgusht, or marriage
procession, formed before the house, and the bride being seated in a
palanquin, her husband followed on a stout pony, both being dressed in
red muslin garments as gaily as possible. It was a public procession,
the gates of the village were open, and strangers from other localities
mixed freely with the crowd that thronged the streets. Burma Naik, who,
being a Beydur, could not take a part in the ceremony, nor sit among
the chief guests in the house, had nevertheless held a court of his
own in the outer portion of it, now headed the procession on his fine
horse, and was accompanied by a number of his men, who fired their
matchlocks and cheered the bride with those strange shrieks and yells
in which the Beydur youth delight. Thus, what with these, the blasts
of many horn-blowers, the pipes and drums of several villages, and the
general noise and clatter, nothing could be distinctly heard, and all
was merry confusion.
The procession was to pass along part of the Bazar, then traverse the
main street to the west gate, and, returning by the only other wide
street to the Bazar again, proceed as far as the east gate, whence a
deputation would convey an offering to the old saint's tomb, which was
under the Banian tree. Such had been the programme, which was rudely
interrupted. As the procession had reached the western gate, a sudden
shouting of "Thieves! Thieves! Dacoits!" was heard, and several shots
were fired. There had been strong guards posted at both entrances, and
some of the armed men ran up the Bazar to reinforce the eastern gate,
while Burma and about fifty of his men dashed through the western gate,
and guided by the shots and shouts, passed down a lane which ran round
the south side of the village among the gardens. Here was a point at
which several roads separated, and here he stationed some of the men,
posting himself opposite, so that no one could escape. It was evidently
an attack by Dacoits, under cover of the noise and merry-making of the
marriage procession, but against whom? And he set his teeth, drew his
sword, and awaited the approach of the fugitives and their prisoners,
and in a few moments they had arrived, some twenty men, a strong band,
who might have overpowered by their sudden rush any weaker persons
than those who now met them face to face. Crying to his men to spare
none, he attacked the strange party, and in a few moments several were
wounded, two killed outright, and six taken prisoners. The rest, many
or few they knew not, escaped through the hedges which lined the road
into the thick gardens and sugar-cane fields, and were beyond pursuit.
But Burma had as many as he wanted, and the men's hands being tied with
turbans, they were escorted to the village gate, where the Chaoree, or
town hall, was situated. This was common ground, and Beydurs, as well
as others of all castes, crowded into it. Among those who had come down
from the Moolla's house were the Kazee of Kembavee, some respectable
Moollas and weavers, with Brahmins, and generally most of those who
had not joined the procession. A few, however, remained with the old
Syud.
"I was about to send for you, Kazee Sahib," said Burma Naik, "and you
must help me to inquire into this. And do ye all, sirs," he continued
to others, "assist me to do justice. One of my men, a fine young
fellow, first in the pursuit, has been speared by one of the Dacoits,
and is already dead; another, I fear, is dying. This is murder, and
justice must be done. Were I alone, indeed, I should dispose of them at
once without mercy; but as the representative of the King is present,
I shall do nothing till he has spoken. Bring up the prisoners. Ha!"
he continued, as one was led forward, "thou, Kalloo! Methought thou
wouldst not have tried thy hand here."
"Be quick," said the man, a tall, powerful fellow, who still held a
spear shaft in his hand, from which the blade had been removed, "be
quick; hear what I have to say, for I am dying. Give me a drink of
water;" and someone handed a vessel full to him, from whence he drank
greedily. "Enough!" he said, as he gave it back. "Listen, Burma Naik,
you know me, Kalloo Jutt, and I deny it not. I have done my last deed.
There, read that, and you will see why I did it, and what it was to
have been. Ah! I was a fool to disobey the omens, but there was no time
to delay. I can speak no more."
Then the Kazee opened the paper in which a letter was wrapped, and
which the robber had taken from his waistbelt. It was in the Mahrathi
character, and the village accountant was called upon to read it. Twice
he cast his eyes over it, and seemed as if afraid to do so, when Burma
Naik snatched it from him, and said, "Now come and read it, while I
look over it with thee. But, Kazee Sahib, it bears the seal and the
signature of Osman Beg, the Governor of Juldroog, and I can guess what
its purport may be." And the document ran thus:--
"To Kalloo Naik Jutt, from Nawab Osman Beg, Bahadoor, greeting, and
health and grace from Alla attend you.
"Whereas Zóra, the granddaughter of the Syud Dervish who lived here,
has escaped, and is now at Kukeyra, under the protection of the rebel
Burma Naik, and lives in a house outside the entrance gate of the
village, you are therefore to go there with your men and take her up
and bring her to me, without hurting even a hair of her head. I do
not want the old man, he is useless to me; but if he resist he can
be slain. These are my orders; and if this service is well done, and
without hurt to Zóra-bee, who will belong to my harem, I will hold you
free from all question by the Government in case any trouble shall
arise; and I will give you, on receiving Zóra-bee aforesaid from your
hands, the sum of five hundred hoons of gold.
"You are to believe this fully, and act on it fully, and without fear.
"The seal and signature of Osman Beg,
son of Heidur Beg, Toorcoman."
"How strange!" cried the Kazee; "I received a letter from him only
yesterday, asking me to come to Juldroog to-morrow, and having rested
here to-night, should have gone to him."
"Yes!" said the dying man, faintly, "Mother Bheemee, from Raichore, was
to have received her; and I sent my aunt Chimee to find out about the
marriage here."
"I thought I had seen the old witch once in the Bazar, and only that it
is not safe to cross her, would have had her head shaved."
"It was a narrow escape," said the Kazee; "the Lord be praised for it,
and that I am delivered from seeming connection with this sin."
"And I say," continued the robber, who sat up, with staring eyes, as
if making a supreme effort, "I say, and bear ye all witness, that the
Nawab told me to get the child to him before morning, and he would
dishonour her. That the Kazee was only a sham, and would not be allowed
to cross the river;" and then, with a violent effort, he tore away the
bandage which had for the time restrained the bleeding from the wound
in his neck; the blood rushed forth, and with a shrill scream he fell
back and died.
"A sad event for a merry marriage," said the Kazee; "but it is evident
to us that the innocent are protected by the Almighty. Let no one tell
the lady or her grandfather; let them sleep in peace. As to the rest of
the prisoners, deal with them according to border custom. There is no
law in the case."
"Yes," said Burma, grimly, "I will deal with them; and see, this has
been brought from beneath the banian tree."
It was a common rough bedstead, with bamboos at each corner tied
together. Underneath the place where they joined one large thick pole
had been introduced to carry it by, and over all a thick black blanket
was cast, which would have at once concealed and secured the inmate;
and had anything occurred to prevent Zóra going to the marriage, the
expedition of the Jutts might have been successful.