Commander Kassim touched Barlow on the arm: "Captain Sahib, come with
me. The death of that foul murderer does not take the weight off our
hearts."
"He deserved it," Barlow declared.
Though filled with a sense of shuddering horror, he was compelled
involuntarily to admit that it had been a most just punishment; less
brutal, even more impressive--almost taking on the aspect of a
religious execution--than if the Bagree had been tortured to death;
hacked to pieces by the _tulwars_ of the outraged Pindaris. He had
been executed with no evidence of passion in those who witnessed his
death. And as to the subtlety of the Commander in obtaining the
confession, that, too, according to the ethics of Hindustan, was
meritorious, not a thing to be condemned. Hunsa's animal cunning had
been over-matched by the clear intellect of this wise soldier.
"We will walk back to the Chamber of Audience," Kassim said, "for now
there are things to relate."
He spoke to a soldier to have his horse led behind, and as they walked
he explained: "With us, Sahib, as at the death of a Rana of Mewar,
there is no interregnum; the dead wait upon the living, for it is
dangerous that no one leads, even for an hour, men whose guard is their
sword. So, as Amir Khan waits yonder where his body lies to be taken
on his way to the arms of Allah in Paradise, they who have the welfare
of our people at heart have selected one to lead, and one and all, the
jamadars and the hazaris, have decreed that I shall, unworthily, sit
upon the _ghuddi_ (throne) that was Amir Khan's, though with us it is
but the back of a horse. And we have taken under advisement the
message thou brought. It has come in good time for the Mahrattas are
like wolves that have turned upon each other. Sindhia, Rao Holkar,
both beaten by your armies, now fight amongst themselves, and suck like
vampires the life-blood of the Rajputs. And Holkar has become insane.
But lately, retreating through Mewar, he went to the shrine of Krishna
and prostrating himself before his heathen image reviled the god as the
cause of his disaster. When the priests, aghast at the profanity,
expostulated, he levied a fine of three hundred thousand rupees upon
them, and when, fearing an outrage to the image these infidels call a
god, they sent the idol to Udaipur, he way-laid the men who had taken
it and slew them to a man."
"Your knowledge of affairs is great, Chief," Barlow commented, for most
of this was new to him.
"Yes, Captain Sahib, we Pindaris ride north, and east, and south, and
west; we are almost as free as the eagles of the air, claiming that our
home is where our cooking-pots are. We do not trust to ramparts such
as Fort Chitor where we may be cooped up and slain--such as the Rajputs
have been three times in the three famed sacks of Chitor--but also,
Sahib, this is all wrong."
The Chief halted and swept an arm in an encompassing embrace of the
tent-studded plain.
"We are not a nation to muster an army because now the cannon that
belch forth a shower of death mow horsemen down like ripened grain. It
was the dead Chief's ambition, but it is wrong."
Barlow was struck with the wise logic of this tall wide-browed warrior,
it _was_ wrong. Massed together Pindaris and _Bundoolas_ assailed by
the trained hordes of Mahrattas, with their French and Portuguese
gunners and officers, would be slaughtered like sheep. And against the
war-trained Line Regiments of the British foot soldiers they would meet
the same fate. "You are right, Chief Kassim," Barlow declared; "even
if you cut in with the winning side, especially Sindhia, he would turn
on you and devour you and your people."
"Yes, Sahib. The trade of a Pindari, if I may call it so, has been
that of loot in this land that has always been a land of strife for
possession. I rode with Chitu as a jamadar when we swept through the
Nizam's territory and put cities under a tribute of many _lakhs_, but
that was a force of five thousand only, and we swooped through the land
like a great flock of hawks. But even at that Chitu, a wonderful
chief, was killed by wild animals in the jungle when he was fleeing
from disaster, almost alone."
They were now close to the palace, and as they entered, just within the
great hall Kassim said: "There will be nothing to say on thy part,
Captain Sahib; the officers will come even now to the audience and it
is all agreed upon. Thou wilt be given an assurance to take back to
the British, for by chance the others have great confidence in me, even
more in a matter of diplomacy than they had in the dead leader, may
Allah rest his soul!"
And to the audience chamber--where had sat oft two long rows of minor
chiefs, at their head on a raised dais the Rajput Raja, a Seesodia, one
of the "Children of the Sun," as the flaming yellow gypsum sun above
the dais attested--now came in twos and threes the wild-eyed whiskered
riders of the desert. They were lean, raw-boned, steel-muscled, tall,
solemn-faced men, their eyes set deep in skin wrinkled from the scorch
of sun on the white sands of the desert. And their eyes beneath the
black brows were like falcon's, predatory like those of birds of prey.
And the air of freedom, of self-reliance, of independence was in every
look, in the firm swinging stride, and erect set of the shoulders.
They were men to swear by or to fear; verily men. And somehow one
sharp look of appraisement, and one and all would have sworn by Allah
that the Sahib in the garb of an Afghan was a man.
As each one entered he strode to the centre of the room, drew himself
erect facing the heavy curtain beyond which lay the dead Chief, and
raising a hand to brow, said in a deep voice: "Salaam, Amir Khan, and
may the Peace of Allah be upon thy spirit."
"Now, brothers," Kassim said, when the curtain entrance had ceased to
be thrust to one side, "we will say what is to be said. One will stand
guard just without for this is a matter for the officers alone."
He took from his waist the silver chain and unlocked the iron box,
brought forth the paper that Barlow had carried, and holding it aloft,
said: "This is the message of brotherhood from the English Raj. Are ye
all agreed that it is acceptable to our people?"
"In the name of Allah we are," came as a sonorous chorus from one and
all.
"And are ye agreed that it shall be said to the Captain Sahib, who is
envoy from the Englay, that we ride in peace to his people, or ride not
at all in war?"
"Allah! it is agreed," came the response.
He turned to Barlow. "Captain Sahib, thou hast heard. The word of a
Pindari, taken in the name of Allah, is inviolate. That is our answer
to the message from the Englay Chief. There is no writing to be given,
for a Pindari deals in yea and nay. Is it to be considered. Captain
Sahib; is it a message to send that is worthy of men to men?"
"It is, Commander Kassim," Barlow answered.
"Then wait thou for the seal."
He raised his _tulwar_ aloft,--and as he did so the steel of every
jamadar and hazari flashed upward,--saying, "We Pindaris and Bundoolas
who rode for Amir Khan, and now ride for Kassim, swear in the name of
Allah, and on the Beard of Mahomet, who is his Prophet, friendship to
the Englay Raj."
"By Allah and the Beard of Mahomet, who is his Prophet, we make oath!"
the deep voices boomed solemnly.
"It is all," Kassim said quietly. "I would make speech for a little
with the Captain."
As each officer passed toward the door he held out a hand and gripped
the hand of the Englishman.
When they had gone Kassim said: "Go thou back, Sahib, to the one who is
to receive our answer, and let our promise be sent to the one who
commands the Englay army and is even now at Tonk, in Mewar, for the
purpose of putting the Mahrattas to the sword. Tell the Sahib to
strike and drive the accursed dogs from Mewar, and have no fear that
the Pindaris will fall upon his flank. Even also our tulwars and our
spears are ready for service so be it there is a reward in lands and
gold."
The Pindari Chief paced the marble floor twice, then with his eyes
watching the effect of his words in the face of Barlow he said:
"Captain Sahib, it is of an affair of feeling I would speak now. It
relates to the woman who has done us all a service, which but shows
what a perception Amir Khan had; a glance and he knew a man for what he
was. Therein was his power over the Pindaris. And it seems, which is
rarer, that he knew what was in the heart of a woman, for the Gulab is
one to rouse in a man desire. And I, myself, years of hard riding and
combat having taken me out of my colt-days, wondered why the Chief,
being busy otherwise, and a man of short temper, should entail labour
in the way of claiming her regard. I may say, Sahib, that a Pindari
seizes upon what he wants and backs the claiming with his sword. But
now it is all explained--the wise gentleness that really was in the
heart of one so fierce as the Chief--Allah rest his soul! What say
thou, Captain Sahib?"
"Bootea is wonderful," Barlow answered fervidly; "she is like a Rajput
princess."
Kassim coughed, stroked his black beard, adjusted the hilt of his
_tulwar_, then coughed again.
"Inshalla! but thou hast said something." He turned to face Barlow
more squarely: "Captain Sahib, the one who suffered the wrath of Allah
to-day last night sent a salaam that I would listen to a matter of
value. Not wishing to have the hated presence of the murderer in the
room near where was Amir Khan I went below to where in a rock cell was
this Hunsa. This is the matter he spoke of, no doubt hoping that it
would make me more merciful, therefore, of a surety I think it is a
lie. It is well known, Sahib, that the Rana of Udaipur had a beautiful
daughter, and Raja Jaipur and Raja Marwar both laid claim to her hand;
even Sindhia wanted the princess, but being a Mahratta--who are nothing
in the way of breeding such as are the Children of the Sun--dust was
thrown upon his beard. But the Rajputs fly to the sword over
everything and a terrible war ensued in which Udaipur was about ruined.
Then one hyena, garbed as the Minister of State, persuaded the cowardly
Rana to sacrifice Princess Kumari to save Udaipur.
"All this is known, Sahib, and that she, with the courage of a
Rajputni, drained the cup that contained the poison brewed from poppy
leaves, and died with a smile on her lips, saying, 'Do not cry, mother;
to give my life for my country is nothing.' That is the known story,
Sahib. But what Hunsa related was that Kumari did not die, but lives,
and has the name of Bootea the Gulab."
The Chief turned his eyes quizzically upon the Englishman, who muttered
a half-smothered cry of surprise.
"It can't be--how could the princess be with men such?"
"Better there than sacrifice. Hunsa learned of this thing through
listening beneath the wall of a tent at night while one Ajeet Singh
spoke of it to the Gulab. It was that the Rana got a yogi, a man
skilled in magical things, either drugs or charms, and that Kumari was
given a potion that caused her to lie dead for days; and when she was
brought back to life of course she had to be removed from where Jaipur
or Marwar might see her or hear of this thing, because they would fly
to the sword again."
Kassim ceased speaking and his eyes carried a look of interrogation as
if he were anxious for a sustaining of his half-faith in the story.
"It's all entirely possible," Barlow declared emphatically; "it's a
common practice in India, this deceit as to death where a death is
necessary. It could all be easily arranged, the Rana yielding to
pressure to save Mewar, and dreading the sin of being guilty of the
death of his daughter. Even the Gulab is like a Princess of the
Sesodias--like a Rajputni of the highest caste."
"Indeed she is, Captain Sahib, the quality of breeding never lies."
"What discredits Hunsa's story," Barlow said thoughtfully, "is that the
Gulab was in the protection of Ajeet Singh who was but a _thakur_ at
best--really a protector of decoits."
"To save Kumari's life she had been given to the yogi, and he would act
not out of affection for the girl's standing as a princess, but to
prevent discovery, bloodshed, and, her life. It is also known that
these ascetics--infidels, children of the Devil--by charm, or drugs, or
otherwise, can cause something like death for days--a trance, and the
one who goes thus knows not who he was when he comes back," Kassim
argued.
"Well," Barlow said, "it is a matter unsolvable, and of no importance,
for the Gulab, Kumari or otherwise, is a princess, such as men fight
and die for."
There was a little silence, Barlow carrying on in his mind this, the
main interest, so far as he was concerned, Bootea; as a woman appealing
to the senses or to the subtlest mentality she was the sweetest woman
he had ever known.
There was a flicker of grim humour in Kassim's dark eyes: "Captain
Sahib," he said, "that evil-faced Bagree has a curious deep cunning, I
believe. I'll swear now by the hilt of my _tulwar_ that he made up the
whole story for the purpose of having audience with me, and in his
heart was a favour desired, for, as I was leaving, he asked that I
would have his turban given back to him to wear on his going; he
pleaded for it. Of course, Sahib, a turban is an affair of caste, and
I suppose he was feeling a disgrace in going forth without it. It
appears that Gulab had taken it as an evidence that he had been killed,
but when I sent a man for it she told him that the cloth was possessed
of vermin and she had burned it."
"But still, Chief, though Hunsa has an animal cunning, yet he could not
make up such a story--he has heard it somewhere."
Barlow felt his heart warm toward the grizzled old warrior as he,
dropping the nebulous matter of Kumari, said: "And to think, Captain
Sahib, that but for the Gulab we would have slain you as the murderer
of Amir Khan. As a Patan, even if I had wished it, I could not have
fended the _tulwars_ from your body. And you were a brave man, such as
a Pindari loves; rather than announce thyself as an Englay--the paper
gone and thy mission failed--thou wouldst have stood up to death like a
soldier."
He put his hand caressingly on Barlow's knee, adding: "By the Beard of
the Prophet thou art a man! But all this, Sahib, is to this end; we
hold the Gulab in reverence, as did Amir Khan, and if it is permitted,
I would have her put in thy hands for her going. Those that were here
in the camp with her fled at the first alarm, and my riders discovered
to-day, too late, that they hid in an old mud-walled fort about three
miles from here whilst my Pindaris scoured the country for them; then
when my riders returned they escaped. So the Gulab is alone. I will
send a guard of fifty horsemen and they will ride with thee till thou
turnest their horses' heads homeward, and for the Gulab there will be a
_tonga_, such as a Nawab might use, drawn by well-fed, and well-shod
horses. That, too, she may keep to the end of her journey and
afterwards, returning but the driver."
"My salaams to you, Chief, for your goodness. To-morrow if it please
you I will go with your promises to the British."
"It is a command, Sahib--to-morrow. And may the Peace of Allah be upon
thee and thy house always!"
He held out a hand and his large dark eyes hovered lovingly over the
face of the Englishman.