Chapter XXIII
_HAIL! PRINCESS of the MARATHAS_
Well might the Native leaders give themselves over to a transportof exultation. The victory had been so complete, Sindhia's flightso hasty, that not a rupee of vast treasure, not a gem of the hoardof a century, had been saved from their hands. Within an hour theyfound their condition changed from being little better than that of arouted mob, to the possessors of an impregnable stronghold, a splendidarmament of modern guns, a new force of ten thousand well drilledtroops, stores and munitions of war in abundance. More than this thepeople of Gwalior received them, not as conquerors, but as champions oftheir race.
Early in the afternoon the Rani of Jhansi rode into Gwalior on theright hand of the Rao Sahib. Thousands of people came forth to meether, shouting her name in a frenzy of joy. As she approached the gates,a salute of artillery burst from the fortress, high above their heads.She gazed upward to behold her banner replacing Sindhia's on theloftiest pinnacle. It was the result of Prasad's first order, on takingpossession of the fortress in the name of the Rani of Jhansi, as wellas that of the Rao Sahib.
On the steps of the palace they were received by a group of liberatedMaratha nobles, who had been imprisoned by Sindhia to please hisForeign allies. Their patriotism had so dominated their discretion thatthe last few months had been passed within the walls of the Gwaliorfortress. They greeted their deliverers with effusions of welcome.
In Sindhia's palace confusion reigned. The chief ladies of the_zanana_, his wives and concubines, had heard from time to time ofthe exploits of the Rani of Jhansi, certainly with astonishment. Butin the privacy of his family life, Sindhia had not been so fearfulof expressing his admiration for the heroic woman. Consequently shefound little favor in the minds of the voluptuous companions of hisleisure hours. In the atmosphere of gossip and jealousy in which theyexisted, they were inclined to regard her as a bold creature of lessthan doubtful virtue, otherwise she could not consort so openly withmen. Unlike the poor and humble of their sex, who beheld in her anincarnation of the glorious Uma, the Goddess of Light and all thingsbeautiful, they ascribed her power to the influence of the sinisterDurga, under whose protection they charitably asserted she waspreserved from death. Thus she grew in their eyes to be a terrible,awe-inspiring figure, and they fled from Gwalior faster than theirnoble lord, the Maharaja, on the first news that she was about to enterthe city----, white bundles of humanity, riding for life across theplain, with Ahmad Khan in vain pursuit. He was loath to be deprived ofthe fairest spoil of victory.
It was shortly decided that Sindhia's personal treasure was to bedivided equally among the Native leaders, all the jewels, silks, androbes found in the _zanana_ to become the property of the Rani ofJhansi as by natural right. From the state treasury a bountiful supplyof largess was to be drawn to recompense both their own troops andthose of Sindhia, who had joined them at the critical moment. A grand_Darbar_ was summoned by the Rao Sahib to meet that evening in thegreat hall of Sindhia's palace, to proclaim the Peshwa supreme Lord ofthe Marathas, and to reward the leaders for their loyalty to the cause.
In the enthusiasm of the hour, all signs of past misfortunes, orof those which might yet descend, were swept from the exultantcountenances of nobles and officers, congratulating each other upon theprize that had been won.
When darkness had fallen, the _Darbar_ hall presented a scene ofunsurpassed magnificence. From huge crystal chandeliers suspended fromthe roof, hundreds of candles illuminated the ornately carved pillarsand capitals, the inlaid pavement, the walls, a blaze of light in thereflections of silver-framed mirrors. On either side of the thronegilded chairs of state had been placed, but it was upon the contents ofsundry gold dishes, that the eyes of the gathering throng feasted.
They were piled high with ornaments scintillating sparks of coloredfire from Sindhia's hoard of emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and sapphires.
Upon one tray reposed a single jeweled casket, evidently containingsome priceless trinket. Several argued with each other over thequestion for whom it was destined as a reward.
Presently, the Rao Sahib entered the hall from a door near the throne.Toward the figure of the Rani of Jhansi at his side the attentionof all was immediately drawn. Against her desire to appear in heruniform, she had been persuaded to attire herself in the state robesof the senior Rani of Gwalior, silks of many hues, stiff with pearlembroidery. A splendid crown of rubies and diamonds rose above herforehead, her girdle was heavy with precious stones.
The Rao Sahib conducted her to a seat immediately on the right of thethrone, when as the Peshwa's representative he took a standing positiondirectly in front of the vacant chair of royal authority. Behind them,and on either side, the nobles in their train grouped themselveseffectively.
As they looked from the dais they beheld the great hall filled to itsutmost capacity with eager upturned faces. Curtains screening theapertures had been withdrawn, disclosing crowded ante-chambers andpassages. Could their gaze have penetrated further they would haveseen a vast concourse surging about the entrance to the palace and inthe courtyard beyond. These did not so much await the proclamation asanother common object in mind.
The Rao Sahib moved to the edge of the dais, and read a briefdeclaration of the Peshwa's titles.
It was received with applause, though it was apparent their enthusiasmwas restrained.
He then proceeded to distribute favors. Upon the shoulders of thenobles recently imprisoned for their sympathy with the Native cause,he placed robes of honor. To others were given important offices andcommands.
The recipients were each cheered loudly, but soon looks of mute inquirybroke on many faces.
Was there then to be no reward for her who had won all this glory fortheir arms?
Thus, while Sindhia's jewels were being divided, in the background,several grew impatient. They began to call upon the Rani's name.
"Shame! Shame"! they murmured. "Is it not the Rani of Jhansi who shouldreceive honor above all others"?
One taller than the rest silenced the complaint for the moment.
"The casket," said he, "yet remains. Hush! Perchance it contains thegreatest treasure for the Queen."
The jewels were at last disposed of to the satisfaction of some andthe disappointment of others. The Rao Sahib turned, and took the Ranilightly by the hand. He led her before the throne.
Then was it that the enthusiasm of every heart burst forth in a mightycheer, that shook Sindhia's palace to its foundations. In the halls,courts, and corridors, it was tumultuously echoed; the throng withoutcaught it up, and hurled it above the city to the black walls of thefortress, where a woman's banner was fluttering in a gentle current ofair.
They knew their valiant Queen was about to receive her reward.
It was long impossible for the Rao Sahib to obtain a hearing. The Raniseemed to shrink from the storm of affectionate regard her rising hadcalled forth. She realized that she had won a greater victory thanGwalior, the laurels of which no enemy could snatch from her brow. Shehad captured the hearts of the people.
Again and again the Rao Sahib endeavored to enjoin silence, but it wastemporarily obtained in one part only to be lost afresh in half a dozenquarters. At last he addressed those nearest to the dais.
"My Lord Rajas," said he, "I need not present to you the great Ladywho stands before the throne. To the noble Rani of Jhansi belongs allpraise for the glory of this day. As imperishable as the fortress rockof Gwalior, her name will stand forth in the history of our race. Bythe will of the most illustrious Peshwa, I give to her the supremecommand of the army of Gwalior, and for her adornment Sindhia's mostcherished jewels. For the rest, is she not yours, to honor as youplease"?
Prasad had left his place in the suite, and taken the casket in hishands. He raised the lid and approached the Rani. Silence fell upon theexpectant throng.
With care he took from the casket rope after rope of matchless pearls.It was Sindhia's state necklace, once of the Imperial Regalia ofPortugal.
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He handed the casket to another, and then gently hung the treasureabout the Rani's neck.
Swiftly he stepped back a pace or two. His sword flashed in mid-air ashis voice resounded throughout the hall.
"Hail! Lachmi Bai, Rani of Jhansi. Hail! Victor of Gwalior, Princess ofthe Marathas."
His voice died away for a moment without response, then the storm ofenthusiasm burst forth anew. It grew into a frenzy almost approachingmadness. They shouted that she should be proclaimed Queen of Gwalioras well as Jhansi. The Rao Sahib became apprehensive that she might beswept on the wave of popular favor even to the dignity of the Peshwa'sthrone.
Without, the plaudits increased above the tumult in the hall. Anofficer with difficulty elbowed his way to the dais. He delivered amessage to the Rao Sahib.
"The people," he cried, "would have the Rani of Jhansi come forth sothat they may behold the light of her countenance."
The Rao Sahib glanced uneasily over the surging mass and protested.
"I fear for her person," he said. Then he asked. "Can they not beappeased in some other way? If thou wert to scatter money among them."
"Noble Rao Sahib," the officer replied. "A hail of gold _mohrs_ wouldnot satisfy their humor. They will see the great Rani, the Victor ofGwalior."
"Aye, my Lord," the Rani interposed. "Surely will I go to the stepsof the palace. These poor people. Do I not love them? If it pleasesthem to see but a frail being like themselves, their desire is easilygratified."
She took the crown from her head and gave it to an attendant, replacingit with the folds of a shawl. Then she moved down amid the cheeringsoldiers thronging the hall and passages to the steps of the portico.There a vast multitude confronted her eyes. Torches flared upward toillumine exultant faces. Their plaudits were redoubled as they beheldher come forth attended by the other leaders of the cause. She moveda few paces in front of the pillars rising on either side, and stoodgazing wistfully, wonderingly upon the scene. It was to her, and to heralone, that their admiration, their love went forth in a whirlwind ofvociferous applause; but she failed to grasp its entire significance.She could have demanded the Peshwa's crown, and they would have setit on her head. She received the tribute only as a vindication of heractions in upholding her rights with the sword.
It was her hour of triumph.
The scene was less to the liking of the Rao Sahib even than that withinthe palace. The Rani of Jhansi had clearly become the fountain of honorand authority with the people. Had he understood her nature better heneed not have harbored fear.
Presently those nearest to the portico would have it that they couldgaze upon her face more clearly.
Obediently she threw back the folds of her shawl, disclosing all herfeatures to their view--strength, determination, heroism, displayed intheir classic outlines.
"Ah, dear Rani," a trooper cried. "Beautiful Queen of Jhansi. Beholdhow the people do love thee."
The words smote her heart, causing a spring of emotion to burst forth.On the instant she became the woman in place of the redoutable warrior.She turned as if seeking a place of retreat to hide her feelings.
Prasad in waiting near by, noticed her appeal, and strode to her side.
The Defender of Jhansi, the Victor of Gwalior, raised her hands to herface, laid her head on his shoulder, and wept.
Prasad gently led the Rani from the scene. He conducted her througha silent corridor to a door that opened into the palace gardens.Thence to a pavilion set apart for the use of the ladies of Sindhia's_zanana_. The noise and uproar died away, the stillness of night fellupon them, for long neither spoke.
At last the Rani broke the trend of a deep reverie.
"Prasad," she asked. "Art thou not going to the banquet? See, thereare lights yonder in the windows of the great hall. Thou wilt miss thefeast in honor of our victory."
"What care I for feasts, dear Lady," he returned, "so that I may staywith thee."
"Thou art changed then, Prasad"? she replied.
"How dost thou mean"? he questioned. "Changed in some manner I prayGod I am; but never was there a time since I first set eyes upon thygraceful form, when I hungered for aught else, but thee, fair Rani."
"Never have I hungered for aught else but thee, fairRani."--Page 267.]
"Ah! Prasad, surely thy memory is at fault," she retorted. "I no longerblame thee for it, if truly thou art changed, but there was a time whenthou didst prefer to drink of Foreign spirits, and enjoy the charms of_natch_ girls, rather than obey the summons of the Rani."
"Never," he cried vehemently. "I vow it is not so. Explain more of thisI do beseech thee, so that I may perceive clearly the source of theuntruth."
"I would not recall the matter, only to satisfy thee," she answered,"but when thou wert a guest of Ahmad Khan, dost not remember hisenthralling dancer? Ah! fickle one," she rebuked him lightly. "HasGanga's face, too, vanished from thy mind"?
"In truth," Prasad affirmed. "Her face never was in my mind to vanishfrom it. With thy dear face ever before my eyes, I beheld no other, noteven as a passing fancy."
"Say you so"? she spoke quickly. "Yet Ahmad Khan vowed most reluctantlythat thou wert so drunk with wine, so intoxicated with thy passion forthe girl, that thou couldst not be brought to listen to my voice."
Prasad started, as the late suspicion of his friend's treachery beganto receive confirmation.
"Tell me! Tell me"! he urged. "Did he convey my message to thee, thatI was sick, that I yearned for a glance from thine eyes to heal mymalady"?
"Truly he did not," the Rani answered. "No such message did he everbring."
Prasad sprang to his feet impulsively.
"The lying, treacherous Moslem," he ejaculated fiercely. "Farewellfor a little space, great Rani. For this he shall answer even at thebanquet. I will slay him in his seat."
"Nay, stay, good Prasad," she enjoined.
"Aye, but thou dost not know all," he returned vehemently.
"But I would know all," she answered calmly, "before thou dost commitso rash an act."
"Dear Rani! Ah God, that there could be such vileness coiled like aserpent round any creature's heart. What wouldst thy order be, if Iwere to disclose to thee, that yonder villain, had sworn thy ears weretoo full of the love words of another Moslem to hear of my petition,that his name so hung upon thy lips as to stifle any message in return,thine eyes so captivated with his form that thou hadst yielded thyvirtue to his passion as readily as a lotus bending its fair headbefore a storm? Such was thy case with Dost Ali; he swore upon hiscursed Koran, and so he stirred my nature until I lost my reason. Whatnow, great Rani, is thy pleasure, thy command"?
He waited, breathing heavily with emotion, for the order he anticipatedwould burst forth from the outraged woman's lips to exterminate theMohammedan. But it did not come.
For a moment, and for a moment only, she was tempted thus to act. Anangry glance swept to the lighted windows of the banquet hall. But sheperceived the fatal consequences of a blood feud stirred up at thatfeast. It might be ruinous to the brightening prospects of the causeshe cherished more than all else.
"Prasad," she replied deliberately. "It is a lie. We have both beenwronged. But as God this day has answered my prayers, I doubt not hewill judge between us and Ahmad."
"What! Shall I not then go hence and slay him"? Prasad demanded.
"Nay," she replied restrainingly. "Hast thou forgotten how we stoodin Jhansi? So do we stand here in Gwalior. All is not yet gained.Be assured the Foreigners will return. We need Ahmad's sword, morethan his dead body in revenge. Ah! my dear Lord," she exclaimed withrapture, "Let us forget his wickedness in this hour of joy--in thishour of our reconciliation," she added in a lower tone.
He knelt at her side, then took her yielding form in his arms. He drewher closer and closer to his breast.
"Prasad! Prasad! I do love thee," she whispered softly.
"To the end, dear one, to the end," he passionately returned.
From the banquet hall the sounds of h
igh revelry came across the gardenborne upon air laden with the perfume of flowers; but, in time, thelights were extinguished, and only the watchwords of the sentries onthe citadel fell upon their ears. The veil of darkness hid their longembrace, until the bugles of the morn rang out the call to arms.
An hour of triumph and an hour of happiness was past; an hour greaterthan both was yet to come.
Lachmi Bai, Rani of Jhansi: The Jeanne D'Arc of India Page 24