The old man returned my salutations cordially; and when we were fairly
seated, and the hookah had passed round, he related the sad history
of the parents of the girl he had adopted. His version of the tale
differed little from that of my new acquaintance; and indeed the whole
affair appeared to have been as successful a piece of Thuggee as I had
ever listened to. I wonder who they were, thought I; I will mention the
story to my father; perhaps he may have heard of it, and can give me
some clue to the boy whose fate is buried in uncertainty. Yet the lad
may even now be among us; and as this thought flashed across my mind, a
half conviction forced itself upon me that I was the man! But I checked
it,--it was a foolish thought, such as one harbours sometimes upon the
slightest cause, and dismisses after a moment's reflection.
"And you never heard aught of them afterwards, nor of the boy?" I asked.
"Never," said the old man; "never; years have passed since then, and
the lad, if he lives, is about your own age, Meer Sahib; and--Ya Alla!"
cried he, gazing on me, as a gust of wind caused the lamp to flare
towards me, "those features are familiar to me!--speak, man! thou art
not the son of him who was murdered?"
I confess that his earnest gaze and manner, with my previous
convictions that the village was familiar to me, almost overpowered
me; but I was too old an adept in deceit to be long staggered by a
suspicion which he had no means of confirming, and I replied carelessly
and with a laugh: "No, no, that cannot be; my father still lives,
though my mother is dead; indeed I have but little remembrance of her.
Besides we are pure Syuds by descent, and reside in a distant country,
and you spoke of your old friend as a Pathan."
"It cannot be then," said the old man, turning away with an air of
disappointment; "yet the resemblance is very striking, and I pray you,
Meer Sahib, to pardon an old man's mistake; it may be that my eyes
are failing me. Yet look at him, my son, and say, does he not resemble
_her_?"
"He does so certainly," replied the other, "and I was struck with the
similarity of features, when I first saw him; but it must be imaginary,
or it is, perhaps, one of those unaccountable resemblances, which one
often sees without being able to discover any cause why it should
exist."
"But you spoke of a coin," said I, "which you hold to be possessed of
peculiar virtues."
"I did, Meer Sahib, and my father will tell you that I have not
overrated its efficacy."
"Nor has he," said the other; "many charms have I seen, but none equal
to it: when around the neck of the wearer, no evil comes to her, no
disease attacks her, and the eye of the malevolent or envious rests in
vain upon her. Assuredly it possesses wonderful virtues, for if it is
ever absent from her, she suffers from disease, or is unquiet in mind."
"Alla ke Qoodrut!" I exclaimed; "it is the work of God. Such charms
are indeed precious, and lucky is the possessor of them. I had once a
son,--he became the victim of an evil glance cast by a Fakeer to whom
alms were denied; he cursed my house, and the boy pined and died. I
was absent from my home, and you may judge, sirs, of my agony when I
arrived and learned my boy was dead. I have never been blessed with
another; but a girl still survives, upon whom every care is lavished,
and no charm is offered for sale by the wandering Fakeers, Moslem or
Hindoo, but it is eagerly purchased, and hung around her neck. In this
manner I have spent much money, but as yet without effect; for my
child is delicate, and afflicted with dreams which disturb her rest
and disquiet her gentle spirit; and I would to Alla I could become the
possessor of some charm similar to the one you mention."
"Keep a stout heart, Meer Sahib," said the old man; "you have bought
your experience with sorrow, to be sure, yet a constant attention to
the wants of the holy wanderers will no doubt have its effect in the
end, and their prayers will be offered for the health of your child and
her long life."
"May Alla listen to them;" said I fervently, for my heart was then with
my child and my loved wife. I arose to take my leave, and as my new
friend insisted on accompanying me to our camp, we walked thither.
"You will be ready, then, at the first dawn," observed I; "we travel
early for the sake of the cool morning air, and my companions bestir
themselves as soon as the first blush of light spreads over the east."
"Depend on me," said he, "I will not keep you waiting: we have a long
stage before us."
He left me. I will have the charm, thought I, as I lay down to rest;
my child shall be protected by its extraordinary virtue, and there
will be an end of the constant searchings for amulets, which do no
good, and cost much money: besides, I could not bring Azima a gift she
would prize more highly, better far in her eyes than strings of pearls
or costly jewels. Thus musing, my thoughts wandered to my home: my
treasures were before me in imagination, and I compared this my wild
and exciting life with the peaceful moments I enjoyed when I was there
with them--Azima lying beside me, and our child amusing us with her
innocent gambols. The contrast was forcible, and appealed to my best
feelings.
I fell asleep; nor did I awake until the bustle of preparation for
the journey warned me that it was time to rise. Having performed my
ablutions, I repeated the morning prayer and thanksgiving, and issuing
from my little tent, I saw the band was in readiness to move on; but my
new acquaintance and his family were as yet not with us.
"Shall we move on?" asked Laloo,--who was now my confidant, being the
second of the Bhuttotes,--as I stood near my horse, prepared to mount.
"Not yet," said I; "I expect some bunij from the village; they promised
not to be late, yet the day advances. Send some one to hurry them."
"Ay, our friends of last night, I suppose, Meer Sahib. Of course we
will wait for them, and I will send a fellow to quicken them: know you
how many there will be to deal with?"
"Not I," I replied; "there are a man and his wife, but how many more I
know not. We shall soon see, however."
Our messenger returned almost immediately. "They come," said he; "I had
not reached the village gate when I saw them issue forth."
"And how many are there?" I asked.
"There are two women on ponies, one old one on foot, and three men
armed with sword and matchlock."
"Six in all," said I; "do you Laloo tell off the Bhuttotes: if we find
a good place to-day I will give the jhirnee; if not, the business can
be done to-morrow."
"True, Meer Sahib," he replied; "but we had better put it off to-day.
To tell you the truth, there was an objectionable omen this morning,
and you know there is no need of risking anything."
"Certainly not; we can send on the Bélhas to-night, and things are best
done which are conducted regularly."
The village party now approached us, and salutations were exchanged; we
stayed not, but pushed on at as rapid a pace as allowed the villagers
to keep up with us; and we travelled thus to the end of the stage.
I saw no likely place for the deed on our way, for the country was
thickly peopled and the villages were close to each other. But I heard
with inward satisfaction from my acquaintance, that the next march was
through a lonely tract, and I was urged by him to be on the alert and
careful, for that robbers were plentiful, and we might be attacked.
They rested in our camp that day and night. I watched eagerly to see,
if it were possible, the face of the woman who bore the prize I so
eagerly coveted, but I could not discern it, she was strictly secluded,
or if she moved out of the temporary screen her husband had erected,
she was enveloped in a thick wrapper, which defied my utmost attempts
to discover her countenance. But she was _mine_, and I gloried in
the thought that ere another day should pass over me, she would have
fallen under my hand, and the charm would be mine also. You, Sahib,
will perhaps wonder at my eagerness to possess it; but you know us not,
if you do. What mother is there in Hindostan, ay, or father, who does
not covet a potent charm against the evil eye for his child or for his
wife, far more than riches, nay the commonest necessaries or comforts
of life? A child falls sick, the glance of some of one is declared to
have rested on it, ceremonies are performed without number, pepper is
burned, mustard-seed placed in the room, and other things done which
you would laugh at were I to relate them all; and hence comes the
necessity of charms. Holy men are besought to give them, and are paid
for them highly: Fakeers are implored to pronounce mystic words over
the suffering infant; and women will sell anything they possess, even
their jewels, to purchase an amulet which is said to be efficacious.
Sahib, I had lost one child; another, my sole offspring, was constantly
ailing, and we were tormented by a thousand miserable anticipations
regarding her. Within my reach was a sovereign remedy for all, so at
least I firmly believed. Can you wonder at my eagerness, my impatience
to possess it?
Laloo came to me, and with him the chief of the Bélhas. "We are to go
on, I suppose, as soon as we can?" said the latter.
"Certainly," replied I; "I hear the road lies through a lonely tract,
which commences a few coss from here. See that you choose a good place,
and that the grave will hold six bodies."
"Jo hookum!" rejoined the fellow; "but I hope the information is
correct about the road, and that it is not like the last stage,
cultivated ground from first to last. I would have defied the best
Belha that ever drew breath to have selected a spot free from a chance
of interruption."
"Rest content," said I; "the information is good, I had it from our
fellow-travellers, who have passed that way a hundred times."
"Then I will start by sunset," continued he; "I suppose the nearer to
this the place is selected, consistently with security, the better."
"Certainly," said I. "Go; you have your leave."
Midnight soon arrived: we had arisen, and had proceeded about three
coss on our way; we had passed every village, and entered on the
desolate tract I have mentioned. The hot night wind still sighed
over the waste, and through the thorny bushes by which it was thinly
covered. No sound broke the silence, save a shrill neigh from one of
our baggage-ponies at intervals, or the wild and melancholy note of
the plover, as it piped its song to its mate, and was answered again
from afar. Once or twice the half shriek, half howl of a hyæna might be
heard, and so like was the cry to that of a wretch under the knife of
an assassin, that my blood curdled in my veins as the sound thrilled
through me. I rode on, first of the party, eagerly looking for the
Belha, who should give the welcome intelligence that the grave was
ready, and that we were secure from interruption; nor had I long to
wait for this. At a turning in the road I saw the trusty messenger
seated; and as he espied me and arose, I hastened to meet him.
"Bhil manjeh?" I asked in our slang language.
"Manjeh," was the reply: "'tis ready, Meer Sahib."
"And how far, Gopal?"
"Scarcely a cannon-shot from hence, a dry nulla with a sandy bed
crosses the road; and a tributary streamlet's course, between high and
narrow banks, was the best place we could find."
"Good," said I, "you are always careful; now keep near me, and hold my
horse when I dismount: I have a share in this affair which I would not
trust to another."
I slackened my horse's pace, and the party soon overtook me. I stopped
as they came up, and dismounted. "A plague on these roads of yours,
Khan," said I to my acquaintance; "my horse has lost a shoe, and his
foot is somewhat tender; so I will walk a coss or two to ease him of my
weight. Surely there cannot be much more of this stony track."
"Not much; a coss or two perhaps: we ought to be near a dry nulla, if I
am not mistaken, and from thence the next village is a coss and a half;
after that the road is good."
"Let the Meer Sahib ride on my tattoo," said a voice like music; "I am
cramped and stiff, and I shall be glad to walk awhile." It was that of
my victim! she who was to die under my hand ere a quarter of an hour
elapsed. She must be beautiful with that voice, thought I; but I shall
see.
"No, no, Khan," said I, "that must not be; I am soldier enough to walk
when I have no horse. Mashalla! my limbs are strong and supple, and I
would not mind trying you at a long stage."
"As you will, Meer Sahib, but you have only to say the word, and she
dismounts. Alla knows 'tis a small recompense for your safe protection
over this dreary tract, which never man yet passed but with fear and
apprehension. The nulla too, we shall reach it soon--they say many a
brave fellow's blood has moistened its sand."
I saw the woman shudder at her husband's speech, and I checked him.
"Shame on you, Khan!" said I; "think who hears you: women's ears
are not fitted to listen to tales of blood, save when they are of a
battle-field, and of scenes in which honour is gained and fame won at
the sword's point. Here you are safe; no rascally Dacoo would dare to
meddle with a kafila like ours, and we shall pass the nulla, as we
have those behind us, without a thought of its dangers or what has
ever happened in it. But what was that?" I eagerly asked, as something
crossed our path close to my feet.
"Nothing but a hare," said the Khan; "some prowling jackal has scared
her from her form, and she seeks another hiding-place."
"A hare!" I repeated, the current of my blood seeming to be suddenly
arrested, as I thought on the fearful omen to a Thug,--one that could
not be disregarded, or, if disregarded, was certain to be followed by
the most dire calamities, nothing less than death or long imprisonment.
"Yes, Meer Sahib, a hare. Why should it astonish you?"
"But across my very path," I muttered involuntarily.
"'Twas chance," said the man; "what of it?"
"Nothing," replied I; "nothing,--we have an old superstition about it
in my country, but 'tis an old woman's tale, I dare say."
I paced on in silence. Ya Alla! what a conflict was raging in my heart!
I have told you I disregarded omens: I cared not for them, only as
they were the soul of Thuggee as far as my men were concerned; and to
humour them I feigned to be particular in their observance. But my soul
quailed when I was put to the proof. Every tale I had heard of the
vengeance of Bhowanee at a conscious neglect of her commands and omens
flashed in rapid succession across my mind,--how one had died, eaten
by worms; another been overtaken by what the world called justice; how
another had lost his wife or children,--and I too had yet a child! I
say I quailed in mental terror for awhile; but mine was a stout heart,
a noble spirit; and it roused at my call, like that of a good steed,
which worn and weary with travel, yet at the approach of strife or
danger bears his master as gallantly as though he were fresh from
his stall. Yes, my soul rallied. Away with such idle tales, fit only
to be bugbears to children, said I mentally; Ameer Ali is not to be
frightened by them. And to lose the charm,--the object of my anxiety,
when almost within my grasp! I laughed aloud.
"You are merry, Meer Sahib," cried Laloo, who I saw was at his place;
"tell us your thoughts, that we may laugh too; and by Alla! we need it,
for a more unsainted country I never saw."
"'Twas but a thought," said I. "Know you where my hookah is?"
"I do not," he replied, "but I will call for it." And the word was
passed by those who followed us for it to be brought.
This was the preparatory signal. Every one heard it and took his
post. The place could not be far, and with my last words had passed
away every chance of life to our companions. Nor was it far off; a
few moments' walking brought us to the brink of the nulla. I first
descended into it, and disengaged my roomal. I was ready; one by one
the others followed me, and we were now in the middle of the dry and
sandy bed, mingled together, the victims and their destroyers. I saw
the time was come, and I gave the jhirnee.
They fell,--ay all! and almost at the same time. There was no sound, no
cry, all that I heard was a faint gurgling noise from the husband of
the woman, who had writhed in her death-agony under my fatal grip; a
few convulsive throes and she was dead! I tore away the bodice which
covered her bosom; I thrust my hands into it, and groped upon the still
warm breast for the prize I had so earnestly longed for. I found it
tied to a silk cord,--which defied my utmost efforts to break; but I
unsheathed my dagger and cut it, and I hugged the treasure to my heart
in a frenzy of exultation. One look at the face, thought I, and the
Lughaees may do their work; and I gazed on it. It was beautiful, very
beautiful; but the expression and the eyes--, Sahib! why did I look at
it? I might have spared myself years of torment had I not done so. That
face, of all that I have ever seen in death, haunts me still, and will
ever haunt me, sleeping or waking.
Not that it had any particular effect on me then. No, it was
afterwards, as you shall hear, and when I had discovered what I had
done. Yes, she was beautiful, fair as my own Azima, as delicate and
faultless in form. The Lughaees shall not behold these beauties,
thought I, nor could I listen to their coarse remarks; so I covered up
the bosom, folded the body decently in the sheet which had been around
her, and sat down by it to await their coming.
"How, Jemadar Sahib!" said Gopal, as he came up to me, "have you not
stripped the body? But let me do so; yonder sheet is worth two rupees."
"Let it alone!" cried I; "touch her not; she is too fair for the like
of you to look on. And hark ye, my friend, let her be buried as you
see her now. Whatever the others may say, tell them that it is my
order; and for your own share, you shall have a new sheet when we reach
Jhalone."
"Jo hookum," said the man, "you shall be obeyed. But have you searched
for jewels?"
"I have; she had none. Away with her, and see that I am obeyed. Yet
stay, I will accompany you."
I went with him. The grave was where they had described it, between the
high and narrow banks of a small watercourse; it was deep, and already
contained some bodies. I saw that of the fair girl laid carefully down
over them, and I prevented their mutilating it with their knives as
they had done the others. I waited till all had been finished, and
the grave covered in; and collecting my scattered party we pursued our
journey. It was well we had been so expeditious, for scarcely half a
coss from the spot we met a large party of travellers, who, confident
in their numbers, had pushed on by night as we had done. Short
greetings were exchanged between us, a few inquiries as to the road,
whether water was to be had, and where, and we passed on.
Our booty was small enough, as you may conceive,--about forty rupees,
a few changes of raiment, the tattoo of the deceased, and the few and
simple ornaments of the women, worth perhaps a hundred rupees, were all
we got. But I had the real prize, worth in my eyes thousands of rupees.
No one knew I had it, and I kept it hung round my own neck, and close
to my heart. A thousand times I took it out and gazed at it; there was
something about it which had a mysterious effect on me,--many times
I thought I had seen it before, and I fancied its old and battered
surface was familiar to me. But my mind gave me no clue to the idea,
and I attributed the effect I have described to the influence of the
charm itself, and I was assured of its potency. How Azima will prize
it! thought I. In itself valueless, yet a treasure in her eyes and
mine, for it will protect our child, and many an envious eye is upon
her.
We were still far from Jhalone, and the season admitted of farther
wanderings; but I was sated. Strange to say, I no longer thirsted for
adventure; and though it came, and men were delivered into our hands,
yet I sought not for them. Those we destroyed were casual travellers
who joined our party, and whose destruction was unavoidable.
We held a general deliberation at a village on the confines of Malwa;
and though some were for travelling northward as far as Agra, and
thence to Jhalone, I overruled this, and, indeed, had the majority
on my side, who were satisfied with what we had got, and longed for
their homes as I did. "However, my friends," said I, "our proceeding
homewards need not bring us worse booty than we should get by going
north. Roads are roads, and travellers will surely be on them wherever
we go. Let us not relax in our vigilance, and do you trust in the lucky
fortune of Ameer Ali. Victory has always followed him, and his star is
still high in the ascendant. Above all, let us consult the omens, and
by them be guided; if it is our fate soon to see our homes, they will
determine our actions and proceedings."
My speech was received with plaudits; the omens were consulted;
and though none remarkable were observed, yet, in the opinion of
the best-informed Thugs, we were justified in holding our present
direction, till it should be changed either by meeting with new
adventures or adverse omens. Accordingly we pursued our route.
I forget how many days it was afterwards, but we were encamped at
Tearee, a large town in Bundelkhund, and had been there two days in the
hope of bunij. We had been unlucky in not meeting with any till then;
but our Tilhaees were actively employed, and I was determined not to
quit the town without an adventure, as it was the last place on the
road to Jhalone where we could hope to meet with any of consequence.
The Sothas and Tilhaees, however, returned in the afternoon with
downcast faces, declaring they could meet with no one, except miserable
creatures hardly worth the trouble of destroying; and all were for
moving off the next morning.
I was piqued at our ill luck, I know not why. "Stay, however," said I
to them all, "for the morrow; something tells me it will be a lucky
day, and one is not of much consequence." My will was of course law
to them, and early the next day I dressed myself in my best clothes,
armed myself with my most showy weapons, and taking some of the Thugs
with me, as it were a personal escort, I rode into the town, causing
my horse to caracole as I went, in order to show off my admirable
horsemanship. Twice did I ride up and down the bazar and the principal
streets, but without meeting with any hope of adventure or bunij.
At last, observing three respectable-looking Mahomedans seated on a
chubootra, or terrace, under the shade of a large peepul-tree, I rode
up to them, and inquired whether they could direct me to the abode of
any dealer in pearls or precious stones, as I wished to purchase some.
"Are you in earnest?" said the oldest of the three; "or do you merely
ask to find out whether our poor town would afford you such precious
commodities?"
"God forbid, sirs," said I, "that one so young as I am should dare to
endeavour to jest with men of your age and respectable appearance. I
do indeed seek what I have said, and shall rejoice if any of you can
direct my steps, for here I am a stranger."
"Since such is the case," replied the old gentleman, "I am happy in
being able, even at this moment, to present you to Shekh Nusr-oo-deen,
who sits here beside me, and who follows the respectable calling you
are in search of. But you had better dismount, and, if such is your
pleasure, join our Mujlis for as long as you feel inclined. My worthy
friend will then, I doubt not, be happy to accompany you to his abode,
and show you the articles you require."
"You are kind," said I, "and I accept of your civil invitation." So
saying, I dismounted, and ascended by a few steps to where they were
sitting. A few moments were occupied in the ceremonies of being seated.
My new acquaintance called for a hookah and sherbet, and in a few
moments we were on excellent terms.
"And what may be your distinguished name?" said the elder of the three,
who had first accosted me. I named myself,--"A poor Syud," said I; "an
unworthy descendant of our Prophet,--on whose name be peace!"
"Mashalla! I told you so," cried the old man. "Mashalla! there is no
mistaking the noble race;--and his speech too! How say ye, my friends,
is it not sweet and mellifluous, like a verse of Hafiz?"
"Ameen! Ameen!" cried both, "'tis even so; the young Syud is a worthy
representative of his tribe, and we are fortunate in having made his
acquaintance."
"You overpower me, worthy sirs," said I; "I little merit these
encomiums; for having spent all my days in camps and in strife, I have
learned few of those courtesies which ought to adorn the manners of
every true believer."
"You have served then with Sindia?" asked the pearl-merchant.
"No," said I, "not in his armies, though there has been tough fighting
enough to be seen with them. I have served in the Dukhun; and, I am
proud to say, under the banners of Salabut Khan of Ellichpoor."
"A good name," cried all; "the noble Khan too has won it bravely,
though not on our side in the late contests."
"It matters not," said I; "wherever a blow was to be struck, or there
was hope of a fight or a foray, Salabut Khan was ever first in the
fray, and the last to leave it."
"And your destination, Syud?" asked the pearl-merchant.
"Jhalone," I replied. "Salabut Khan has reduced his force; and there
being no longer hope of employment for a cavalier like myself, I
returned home to my father, and have taken quiet service with the
Rajah,--whom Alla preserve! for he is as generous a prince as any of
Hindostan; and on his behalf I have recently been on a mission to
the durbar of Doulut Rao, on some matters which have been in dispute
between them. I am proud, too, to say, that all has been quietly
settled."
"Soobhan Alla!" cried the third worthy; "how could it be otherwise,
since our honoured guest has managed the negotiation?"
Again I bowed my head to the earth, and acknowledged the compliment.
Some desultory conversation followed, and I rose to depart. "My time
is precious," said I, "and I implore you to excuse me. I have much to
arrange about the men who accompany me, and I go on to the chowree to
settle their accounts with the kotwal: if the worthy Shekh will allow
one of his attendants to point out his abode, I will notice it, and
visit him ere sunset."
"Nay, Meer Sahib, this cannot be," replied the Shekh: "behold I am
ready, I will accompany you; my poor house is not far off, and Alla
forbid I should be the means of trespassing upon your time." He arose,
girded up his loins, threw his shawl over his shoulders, and thrusting
his feet into his slippers, prepared to accompany me.
"I take my leave then, worthy sirs," said I to the others; "may health
be with you!"
"Not without the pan and utr, Meer Sahib," said the elder; "it cannot
be, that we should let you go like a dog." And calling to an attendant,
the articles were brought. The pan was presented to me; I was duly
anointed on my beard and under my arms, and after a few more salams and
compliments, I was following my new acquaintance the pearl merchant.
"Is he to be bunij?" whispered one of my attendant Thugs to me in
Ramasee, as I passed him.
"Hush!" said I, "speak not a word; but run all of ye before us and
clear the way, as if I were a great man."
They obeyed me and ran forward, shouting and pushing the crowd to and
fro, as though I had been a nobleman of fifty descents and a hundred
titles.
We soon reached the house of the merchant; and leaving our slippers at
the door, he took me by the hand and led me at once into the private
apartment, where I suppose he transacted his business or received his
best customers. It was a dahlan, or verandah, opening into a court, in
the centre of which was a small fountain; its edges were planted with
red poppies and larkspur, in various figures; and a plantain tree or
two flung their broad green leaves over all. The place looked cool,
and was scrupulously neat and clean. The room where we sat had been
newly whitewashed, and its floor covered with a white cloth, except
the musnud itself, which was of yellow cloth, bordered with blue
velvet; a few large luxurious-looking pillows invited me to recline,
and forget the world and its cares. Such shall be my own home, thought
I, after awhile; a fountain is easily made, and I will enjoy my peace
and quiet even as this worthy does. I had seen a hundred such, but the
unobtrusive neatness and comfort of the spot struck me forcibly; and
whilst envying the possessor his peaceful lot, I was inwardly forming
a plan to decoy him with me, which I had leisure to mature, for he had
left me seated, and was for some time absent.