And next day when Barlow, sitting his horse, still riding as the
Afghan, went forth, his going was somewhat like the departure of a
Nawab. Chief Kassim and a dozen officers had clanked down the marble
steps from the palace with him and stood lined up at the gates raising
their deep voices in full-throated salaams and blessings of Allah upon
his head.
The horsemen of the guard, spears to boot-leg, fierce-looking riders of
the plain, were lined up four abreast. The _nakara_ in the open court
of the palace was thundering a farewell like a salute of light
artillery.
The _tonga_ with Bootea had gone on before with a guard of two
out-riders.
All that day they travelled to the south, on their left, against the
eastern sky, the lofty peaks of the Vindhya mountains holding the gold
of the sun till they looked like a continuous chain of gilded temples
and tapering pagodas. For hours the road lay over hard basaltic rocks
and white limestone; then again it was a sea of white sand they
traversed with its blinding eye-stinging glare.
At night, when they camped, Barlow had a fresh insight into the fine
courtesy, the rough nobility that breeds into the bone of men who live
by the sword and ride where they will. The Pindaris built their
camp-fires to one side, and two of them came to where the Sahib bad
spread his blankets near the _tonga_ and built a circle of smudge-fires
from chips of camel-dung to keep away the flies. Then they went back
to their fellows, and when Barlow had pulled the blanket over himself
to sleep the clamour of voices where the horsemen sat was hushed.
And Bootea had been treated like a princess. At each village that they
passed some would ride in and rejoin the cavalcade with fowl, and eggs,
and fruit, and sugar cane, and fresh vegetables; and a mention of
payment would only draw a frown, an exclamation of, "_Shookur_! these
are but gifts from Allah. There has been more than payment that we
have not cut off the _kotwal's_ head, not even demanded a peep at the
money chest. We are looked upon as men who confer favours."
It was the second day one of the horses in the _tonga_ showing
lameness, or perhaps even weariness, for the yoke of the _tonga_ across
their backs did not ride with the ease of a man, the jamadar went into
a village and came forth with his men leading two well-fed horses.
Again when Barlow spoke of pay for them the jamadar answered, "We will
leave these two with the unbelievers, and a message, in the name of
Allah, that when we return if the horses we leave are not treated like
those of the Sultan there will be throats slit. _Bismillah_! but it is
a fair way of treating these unbelievers; they should be grateful."
The road ran through the large towns of Bhopal and Sehore, and at each
place Jamadar Jemla explained to all and sundry of the officials that
the Patan, meaning Barlow, was a trusted officer with Sindhia and they
were escorting a favourite for Sindhia's harem. It was a plausible
story, and avoided interference, for while the Pindaris might be turned
back if there was a force handy, to interfere with a lady of the King's
harem might bring a horde of cut-throat Mahrattas down on them with a
snipping off of official heads.
On the fourth day, and now they were on a good trunk road that ran to
Indore, and branching to the left, that crossed the Nerbudda River at
Mandhatta, they were constantly passing pilgrims on their way to the
Temple of Omkar. In the affrighted eyes of the Hindus Barlow could
read their dread of the Pindaris; they would cringe at the roadside and
salaam, as fearful were they as if a wolf-pack swept down the highway.
The jamadar would laugh in his deep throat, and twist his black
moustache with forefinger and thumb, and call the curse of Mahomet upon
these worshippers of stone images and foul gods. He loved to ride
stirrup to stirrup with the Englishman, and Barlow found delight in the
man's broad conception of life; the petty things seemed to have no
resting place in his mind, unless perhaps as a matter for ridicule.
The sweep of a country with free rein and a sharp sword, and always the
hazard of loot or death was an engrossing subject. Even the enemy who
fought and bled and died, were like themselves--by Allah! men; but the
merchants, the shop-keepers, and the money-lenders, who cringed and
paid tribute when the Pindaris drove at them in a raid, were pigs,
cowardly dogs who robbed the poor and gave only to the accursed
Brahmins and their foul gods. He would dwell lovingly upon the feats
of courage of the Rajputs, lamenting that such fine men should be
excluded from heaven, dying as they did such glorious deaths, sword in
hand, because of their mistaken infidelity; they were souls lost
because of being led away from a true god, the one god, Allah, through
false priests.
"Mark thou, Sahib," Jemla said once, "I do not hold that it is a merit
in the sight of Allah to slay such except there is need, but when it is
a _jihad_, a question of the supremacy of a true god, Allah, or the
Sahib's God--which no doubt is one and the same--as against the evil
gods of destruction and depravity such as Shiva and Kali, then it is a
merit to slay the children of evil. Mahomet did much to put this
matter right," he declared; "he made good Musselmen of thousands who
would otherwise have been cast into _jehannum_ (hell), at times holding
the sword over their heads as argument. Therein Mahomet was a true
prophet, a saver of souls rather than a destroyer of such."
By noon they were drawing toward Mandhatta, and when they came to where
the road from Indore to Mandhatta joined the one they were travelling,
there was an increase in the stream of pilgrims and Barlow could see a
look of uneasiness in the jamadar's eyes.
There was a grove of wild mango trees on the left, running from the
road down to a stream that gurgled on its way from the hills to the
Nerbudda river, and Jemla said, "We might camp here, Sahib, for there
is both good water and fire-wood."
They could see, as they rested and ate, a party of Hindus down by the
stream where there was a shrine to Krishna that nestled under a huge
banyan that was like the roof of a cave from which dropped to earth to
take roots hundreds of slender shoots, like stalactites, and whose
roots, creeping from the earth like giant worms, crawled on to lave in
the stream. When they had finished eating, Jemla said, "That is a
temple of the Preserver;" then he laughed a full-throated sneer:
"_Allah hafiz_! (God protect us), give me a fine-edged _tulwar_,--and
mine own is not so dull--methinks yon grinning affair of stone would
not preserve a dozen of these infidels had there been cause for anger."
"What do the pilgrims there, for they go, it would seem, to Omkar?"
Barlow queried.
"There has been a death--perhaps it was even a year ago, and at a
shrine of Krishna, especially this one that is on a water that is like
a trickle of holy tears to the sacred Narbudda, _straddhas_ (prayers
for the dead) are said. Come, Sahib, we will look upon this mummy, the
only savour of grace about the infidel thing being that it perhaps
brings to their hearts a restfulness, having the faith that they have
helped the soul of the dead."
Barlow rose from where he sat and they went down to where a party of a
dozen were engaged in the service of an appeal to the god for rest for
the soul of a dead relative. The devotees did not resent the
appearance of the two who were garbed as Moslems. The shrine was one
of those, of which there are many in India, that, curiously enough, is
sacred to both Hindus and followers of the Prophet. On a flat rock,
laved by the stream, was an imprint of a foot, a legendary foot-print
of Krishna, perhaps left there as he crossed the stream to gambol with
the milkmaids in the meadow beyond. And it was venerated by the
Musselman because a disciple of Mohammed had attained to great sanctity
by austerities up in the mountain behind, and had been buried there.
But Barlow was watching with deep interest the ceremonial form of the
_straddha_. He saw the women place balls of rice, milk, and leaves of
the _tulsi_ plant in earthenware platters, then sprinkle over this
flowers and kusa-grass; they added threads, plucked from their
garments, to typify the presenting of the white death-sheet to the dead
one; a priest all the time mumbling a prayer, at the end of the simple
ceremony receiving a fee of five rupees.
As the two men turned back toward their camp Jemla chuckled: "Captain
Sahib, thou seest now the weapon of the Brahmin; his loot of silver
pieces was acquired with little effort and no strife; as to the
rice-balls the first jackal that catches their wind will have a filled
stomach. It is something to be thought of in the way of regard for a
long abiding in heaven that such foolish ones will not attain to it.
The setting up of false gods, carved images, I was once told by a
priest of thy faith, is sufficient to exclude such. It makes one's
_tulwar_ clatter in its scabbard to see such profanation in an approach
to God."
Then Jemla spoke of the matter that had engendered the troubled look
Barlow had observed: "The Captain Sahib has intimated that the
One"--and he tipped his head toward the girl--"would proceed to the
temple of Omkar to make offerings at the shrine?"
"Yes, she goes there."
"There will be a hundred thousand of these infidels at Mandhatta, and
when they see fifty Pindaris, _tulwar_ and spear and match-lock, there
will be unrest; perhaps there will be altercation--they will fear that
we ride in pillage."
"I was thinking of that," Barlow replied; "and it would be as well that
you turned your faces homeward."
"We have received an order from our Chief that our lives are at the
disposal of the Captain Sahib, and we will drive into the heart of a
Mahratta force if needs be, but if it is the Sahib's command we will
ride back from here," Jemla said.
"Yes; there is no need of a guard for the Gulab now--just that the
_tonga_ carries her as far as she wishes it," Barlow concurred.
"Indeed we are not needed; those infidels come to worship their heathen
gods, not to combat men, and Mandhatta is but a matter of twelve _kos_
now," Jemla affirmed.
When Captain Barlow, and Bootea in the _tonga_, drew out from the
encampment to proceed on their way the Pindaris rode on in front, and
then, at a command from Jemla, wheeled their horses into a continuous
line facing the road, stirrup to stirrup, the horsemen sitting erect
with their _tulwars_ at the salute. As Barlow passed a cry of,
"Salaam, aleikum! the protection of Allah be upon you," rippled down
the line. Then the horsemen wheeled with their faces to the north.
Jemla swept a hand to his forehead and from his deep throat welled a
farewell, "Salaam, bhai! (brother)."