The Red Year: A Story of the Indian Mutiny

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XVI

  IN THE VORTEX

  Malcolm was not one to throw his life away without an effort to save it.Once, during a visit to Delhi, Captain Douglas, the ill-fated commandantof the Palace Guards, had taken him to his quarters for tiffin. As ithappened, the two entered by the Delhi Gate and walked through thegardens and corridors to Douglas's rooms, which were situated over theLahore Gate. Thus he possessed a vague knowledge of the topography ofthe citadel, and his visit that morning had refreshed his memory to aslight extent. On that slender reed he based some hope of escape. In anyevent he prayed that his ruse might better Chumru's chances, and hepromised himself a soldier's death if brought to bay inside the palace.

  Crossing the drawbridge at a fast gallop, he saw a number of guardslooking at him wonderingly. It occurred to him that the exciting eventsof the early hours might have led to orders being given on the questionof admitting sepoys in large numbers. If that were so, he might gaintime by a bit of sheer audacity. At any rate, there was no harm intrying. As he clattered through the gateway he shouted excitedly:

  "Close and bar the door! None must be admitted without the King'sspecial order!"

  The spectacle of a well-mounted sepoy officer, blood-stained andtravel-worn, who arrived in such desperate haste and was evidentlypursued by a body of horse, so startled the attendants that they bangedand bolted the great door without further ado.

  Already the story was going the rounds that the precious life of BahadurShah had actually been threatened by the overbearing sepoys--what morelikely than that this hard-riding officer was coming to apprise hismajesty of a genuine plot, while the flying squadron in the rear wasstriving to cut him down before the fateful message was delivered?

  Not to create too great a stir, Malcolm pulled up both horses at theentrance to the arcade.

  He called a chaprassi and bade him hold Chumru's steed. Then, learningfrom the uproar at the gate that the guards were obeying hisinstructions literally, he went on at an easier pace.

  The palace was humming with excitement. Its numerous buildings housed amultitude of court nobles and other hangers-on to the court, and each ofthese had his special coterie of attendants who helped to advance theirown fortunes by clinging to their master's skirts. The jealousies andintrigues that surround a throne were never more in evidence than atDelhi during the last hours of the Great Mogul. Already men werepreparing for the final catastrophe. While the ignorant mob was firm inits belief that the rule of the sahib had passed forever, those fewclearer-headed persons who possessed any claim to the title of statesmenwere convinced that the Mutiny had failed.

  Nearly four months were sped since that fatal Sunday when the rebellionbroke out at Meerut. And what had been achieved? Delhi, the pivot ofMohammedan hopes, was crowded with a licentious soldiery, who obeyedonly those leaders that pandered to them, who fought only when someperfervid moullah aroused their worst passions by his eloquence, and whowere terrible only to peaceful citizens. All public credit wasdestroyed. The rule of the King, nominal within the walls of his ownpalace, was laughed at in the city and ignored beyond its walls. Theprovincial satraps and feudatory princes who should be striving to helptheir sovereign were wholly devoted to the more congenial task ofcarving out kingdoms for themselves.

  Nana Sahib, rehabilitated in Oudh, was opposing Havelock's advance; KhanBahadur Khan, an ex-pensioner of the Company, had set up a barbarousdespotism at Bareilly; the Moulvie of Fyzabad, intent on the destructionof the Residency, meant to establish himself there as "King ofHindustan" if only that stubborn entrenchment could be carried; MahudiHusain, Gaffur Beg, Kunwer Singh, the Ranee of Jhansi, and a host ofother prominent rebels scattered throughout Oudh, Bengal, the NorthwestProvinces and Central India, cared less for Delhi than for their ownprivate affairs, and were consequently permitting the British to gatherforces by which they could be destroyed piecemeal.

  From Nepaul, the great border state, lying behind the pestilentialjungle of the Terai, came an army of nine thousand Ghoorkahs to help theBritish. At Hyderabad, the most powerful Mohammedan principality inIndia, the Nizam and his famous minister, Sir Salar Jung, crushed aJehad with cannon and grape-shot. In a word, the orgy had ended, and theday of reckoning was near.

  Malcolm, therefore, was confronted with two separate and hostile sets ofconditions. On the one hand, he was threading his way through a maze ofconflicting interests, and this was a circumstance most favorable to hischances of escape; on the other, every man regarded his neighbor withdistrust and a stranger with positive suspicion, while Malcolm'sdistinguished appearance could not fail to draw many inquiring eyes.

  He crossed the large garden beyond the arcade and was making for an archthat gave access to the long covered passage leading to the Delhi Gate,when he saw Akhab Khan standing there.

  The rebel leader was deep in converse with a richly-attired personagewhom Frank discovered afterwards to be the Vizier. Near Akhab Khan anescort of sowars stood by their horses, and Malcolm felt that theinstant the former lance-corporal set eyes on either Nejdi or himselfrecognition would follow as surely as a vulture knows its prey.

  He could neither dawdle nor hesitate. Wheeling Nejdi towards the nearestarch on the left, he found himself in an open space between the walls ofthe fortress and the outer line of buildings. Underneath the broadterrace, from which troops could defend the battlements, stood a row ofstorerooms and go-downs. At a little distance he could distinguish aline of stables, and the mere sight sent the blood dancing through hisveins.

  If only he could evade capture until nightfall he would no longer feelthat each moment might find him making a last fight against impossibleodds. Dismounting, he led Nejdi to an unoccupied stall. As there wasnothing to be gained by half measures he removed saddle and bridle, hungthem on a peg, put a halter on the Arab, adjusted the heel-ropes, andhunted the adjoining stalls for forage.

  He came upon some gram in a sack and a quantity of hay. All provenderwas alike to Nejdi so long as it was toothsome. He was soon busilyengaged, and Malcolm resolved to avoid observation by grooming him whenany one passed whose gaze might be too inquisitive.

  He took care that sword and revolvers were handy. It was hard to tellwhat hue and cry might be raised by the troopers against whom the guardshad closed the Lahore Gate. Perhaps they were searching for two men andthe finding of one horse in charge of a chaprassi might suggest that therider of the other and his companion had dodged through the Delhi Gate.Again, his pursuers might have galloped straight to the other exit andthus made certain that he was still in the palace. If that were so andthey ferreted him out, as well die here as elsewhere. Meanwhile, hechewed philosophically at a few grains of the gram and awaited theoutcome of events that were now beyond his control.

  A wild swirl of wind and rain seemed to favor him. There was not muchtraffic past his retreat, and that little ceased when a deluge lashedthe dry earth and clouds of vapor rose as though the water were beatingon an oven. Now and again a syce hurried past, with head and shouldersenveloped in a sack. Once a party of sepoys trudged through the mud,towards the water bastion of the palace, and the men whom they hadrelieved came back the same way a few minutes later.

  Nejdi had seldom been groomed so vigorously as during the passing ofthese detachments, but no one gave the slightest heed to the cavalryofficer who was engaged on such an unusual task. If they noticed him atall it was to wonder that he could be such a fool as to work when therewere hundreds of loafers in the city who could be kicked to the job.

  The rain storm changed into a steady drizzle and the increasing gloompromised complete darkness within half an hour. Malcolm was beginning toplan his movements when he became aware of a man wrapped in a heavycloak who approached from the direction of the arcade and peered intoevery nook and cranny.

  "Now," thought Frank, "comes my first real difficulty. That man issearching for some one. Whether or not he seeks me he is sure to speak,and if my presence has been reported he will recognize both Nejdi and meinstantly. If so, I mu
st strangle him with as little ceremony aspossible."

  The newcomer came on. In the half light it was easy to see that he wasnot a soldier but a court official. Indeed, before the searcher's glancerested on the gray Arab, munching contentedly in his stall, or the tallsowar who stood in obscurity near his head, Frank felt almost sure thathe was face to face with the trusted confidant who had carried outRoshinara Begum's behests in the garden at Bithoor.

  That fact saved the native's life. The Englishman would have killed himwithout compunction were it not for the belief that the man was actuallylooking for him and for none other, and with friendly intent, too, elsehe would have brought a bodyguard.

  Sure enough, the stranger's first words were of good import. He couldnot see clearly into the dark stable and it was necessary to measureone's utterances in Delhi just then.

  "If you are one who rode into Delhi this morning I would have speechwith you," he muttered softly.

  "Say on," said Malcolm, gripping his sword.

  "Nay, one does not give the Princess Roshinara's instructions withoutknowing that they reach the ears they are meant for."

  The Englishman came out from the obscurity. He approached so quicklythat the native started back, being far from prepared for Frank's veryconvincing resemblance to a rissaldar of cavalry.

  "I look for one--" he began, but Frank had no mind to lose time.

  "For Malcolm-sahib?" he demanded.

  "It might be some such name," was the hesitating answer.

  "I am he. I saw thee last at Bithoor, when I escaped with Mayne-sahiband the missy-baba."[23]

  [Footnote 23: The familiar native title for a European young lady.]

  "By Mohammed! I would not have known you, sahib, though now I rememberyour face. Come with me, and quickly. Each moment here means danger."

  "Ay, for thee. I am not one to be tricked so easily."

  "Huzoor, have I not sought you without arms or escort? I and anotherhave searched the palace these two hours. Leave your horse. I will havehim tended. Come, sahib, I pray you. The Begum awaits you, but there areso many who know of your presence that I shall not be able to save youif you fall into their hands."

  These were fair-seeming words with the ring of truth about them. At anyrate Malcolm's whereabouts were no longer a secret, and it would not bewar but murder to offer violence to one who came with good intent on hislips if not in his heart.

  "Lead on," said Frank, sternly, "and remember that I shall not hesitateto strike at the first sign of treachery."

  "I shall not betray you, sahib, but you must converse with me as we walkand not draw too many eyes by holding a naked sword."

  This was so manifestly reasonable that Malcolm felt rather ashamed ofhis doubts. Yet, he thought it best not to appear to relax hisprecautions.

  "I would not pass through the palace with a sword in my hand," he saidwith a quiet laugh, "but I have a pistol in my belt, and that willsuffice for six men."

  His guide set off at a rapid pace. When they were near the great archleading into the garden they halted in front of a small door in adimly-lighted building, and the native rapped twice with his knuckles onthree separate panels. Some bolts were drawn and the two were admitted,the door being instantly barred behind them by an attendant. Thedarkness in the passage was impenetrable. Frank held himself tensely,but his companion's voice reached him from a little distance in front,while he heard other bolts being drawn.

  "You will see your way more clearly now," was the reassuring message,and when the second door was opened the rays of a lamp lit the stonewalls and floor. They went on, through lofty corridors, acrosssequestered gardens and by way of many a stately chamber until anothernarrow passage terminated in a barred door, guarded by an armed native.The man's shrill voice betokened his calling, and Frank knew that he wasstanding at the entrance to the zenana.

  "There is one other within," said the guard, leering at them.

  "Who is it, slave?" asked Frank's guide scornfully, for he was annoyedby the eunuch's familiar tone.

  "Nay, I obey orders," was the tart response. "Enter, then, and may Allahprosper you."

  There was a hint of danger in the otherwise excellent wish, but the manunlocked the door, and they passed within.

  Frank's wondering eyes rested on a scene of fairy-like beauty, soexquisite in its colorings and so unexpected withal, that not even hisdesperate predicament could repress for an instant the feeling ofastonishment that overwhelmed him. He was standing in a white marblechamber, pillared and roofed in the Byzantine style, while every shaftand arch was chiseled into graceful lines and adorned with traceries orcarved festoons of fruit and flowers. The walls were brightened withmosaics wrought in precious stones. Texts from the Koran in the flowingPersi-Arabic script, ran above the arches. In the floor, composed ofcolored tiles, was set a _pachisi_[24] board, as the wide entrance hallto a European house might have a chess-board incorporated with thedesign of the tiled floor.

  [Footnote 24: A game of the draughts order, much played by nativeladies.]

  Not a garish tint or inharmonious line interfered with the chasteelegance of the white marble, and the whole apartment, which seemed tobe the ante-room of the ladies' quarters, was lighted with Moorishlamps.

  Malcolm took in some of these details in one amazed glance, but histhoughts were recalled sternly to the affairs of the moment by hearingthe ring of spurred heels on the sharp-sounding pavement from behind acurtained arch. There was no time to retreat nor cross towards an alcovethat promised some slight screen from the soft and penetrating lightthat filled the room. He saw that his guide was perturbed, but he askedno question. With the quick military tread came the frou-frou of silkand the footfall of slippered feet. Then the curtain was drawn aside andAkhab Khan entered, followed by the Princess Roshinara.

  Malcolm had the advantage of a few seconds' warning. Even as Akhab Khanplaced his hand on the curtain the Englishman sprang forward, and theastounded sowar, now a brigadier in the rebel forces, found himselflooking into the muzzle of a revolver.

  "Do not move till I bid you, Akhab Khan," said Malcolm, in hisself-contained way. "I am summoned hither, so I come, but it may benecessary to secure a hostage for my safe conduct outside the wallsagain."

  "You! Malcolm-sahib!" was Akhab Khan's involuntary outburst.

  "Yes, even I. Have you not heard, then, that I rode into the palaceto-day?"

  "There was a report that some Feringhis--some sahibs--were in the cityas spies--"

  "Malcolm-sahib is here because I sent for him," broke in Roshinara.

  "You--_sent_ for him!"

  Akhab Khan's swarthy features paled, and his eyes sparkled wrathfully.Heedless of Malcolm's implied threat, or perhaps ignoring it, he wheeledround on the Princess, and his right hand crossed to his sword-hilt.

  "If you so much as turn your head again or lift a hand without my order,I blow your brains out," said Malcolm in the same unemotional tone.

  "Nay, let him attack a woman if it pleaseth him," cried Roshinara, whohad not drawn back one inch from the place where she was standing whenMalcolm confronted Akhab Khan and herself. "That is what our troops,officers and men alike, are best fitted for. They love to swagger in thebazaar, but their valor flies when they see the Ridge."

  Again quite indifferent to the fact that Malcolm's finger was on thetrigger, the rebel leader threw out his hands towards the Begum in agesture of agonized protest.

  "Do you not trust me, my heart?" he murmured. "If you knew of thisNazarene's presence why was I not told?"

  "Because I wished to save you in spite of yourself. Because I wouldmourn you if you fell in battle as befits a warrior and the man whom Ilove, but I would not have you die on the scaffold, as most of theothers will die ere another month be sped. What hope have we of success?If forty thousand sepoys cannot overcome the three thousand English onthe Ridge, how shall they prevail against the force that is nowpreparing to storm Delhi? I sent for Malcolm-sahib that I might obtainterms for my father and for thee, Ak
hab Khan. This man is now in ourpower. Let us bargain with him. If he goes free to-day, let him promisethat we shall be spared when the gallows is busy in front of ourpalace."

  Each word of this impassioned speech was a revelation to Malcolm. Herewas the fiery beauty of the Mogul court pleading for the lives of herfather and lover, pleading to him, a solitary Briton in the midst ofthousands of mutineers, a prisoner in their stronghold, a spy whose lifewas forfeit by the laws of war. Hardly less bewildering than this turnof fortune's wheel was the whirligig that promoted a poor trooper of theCompany to the position of accepted suitor for the hand of a royalmaiden. Never could there be a more complete unveiling of the Easternmind, with all its fatalism, its strange weaknesses, its uncontrollablepassions.

  Akhab Khan stretched out his arms again.

  "Forgive me, my soul, if I did doubt thee," he almost sobbed.

  The girl was the first to recover her self-control.

  "Put away your pistol," she said, fixing her fine eyes on Malcolm, witha softness in their limpid depths that he had never seen there before."If we can contrive, my plighted husband and I, you will not need itto-night. I was rejoiced to hear that you were within our gates. We arebeaten. I know it. We have lost a kingdom, because wretches like NanaDundhu Punt of Bithoor, have forgotten their oaths and preferreddrunken revels to empire. Were they of my mind, were they as loyal andhonorable as the man I hope to marry, we would have driven you and yoursinto the sea, Malcolm-sahib. But Allah willed otherwise and we can onlybow to his decree. It is Kismet. I am content. Say, then, if you aresent in safety to your camp, do you in return guarantee the two lives Iask of you?"

  Malcolm could not help looking at Akhab Khan before he answered. Thehandsome young soldier had folded his arms, and his eyes dwelt onRoshinara's animated face with a sad fixity that bespoke at once hislove and his despair.

  Then the Englishman placed the revolver in his belt and bowed low beforethe woman who reposed such confidence in him.

  "If the issue rested with me, Princess," he said, "you need have no fearfor the future. I am only a poor officer and I have small influence. YetI promise that such power as I possess shall be exerted in your behalf,and I would remind you that we English neither make war on woman nortreat honorable enemies as felons."

  "My father is a feeble old man," she cried vehemently. "It was not byhis command that your people were slain. And Akhab Khan has never drawnhis sword save in fair fight."

  "I can vouch for Akhab Khan's treatment of those who were at his mercy,"said Malcolm, generously.

  "Nay, sahib, you repaid me that night," said the other, not to beoutdone in this exchange of compliments. "But if I have the happiness tofind such favor with my lady that she plots to save me against my will Icannot forget that I lead some thousands of sepoys who have faith in me.You have been examining our defenses all day. Sooner would I fall on mysword here and now than that I should connive at the giving ofinformation to an enemy which should lead to the destruction of my men."

  Malcolm had foreseen this pitfall in the smooth road that was seeminglyopening before him.

  "I would prefer to become the bearer of terms than of information," hesaid.

  "Terms? What terms? How many hands in this city are free of innocentblood? Were I or any other to propose a surrender we should be torn limbfrom limb."

  "Then I must tell you that I cannot accept your help at the price ofsilence. When I undertook this mission I knew its penalties. I am stillprepared to abide by them. Let me remind you that it is I, not you, whocan impose conditions within these four walls."

  Akhab Khan paled again. His was the temperament that shows anger by thetoken which reveals cowardice in some men; it is well to beware of himwho enters a fight with bloodless cheeks and gray lips. But Roshinarasprang between them with an eager cry:

  "What folly is this that exhausts itself on a point of honor? Does notevery spy who brings us details of each gun and picket on the Ridge tellthe sahib-log all that they wish to know of our strength and ourdissensions? Will not the man who warned us of the presence of anofficer-sahib in our midst to-day go back and sell the news of a sepoyregiment's threat to murder the King? Have done with these idlewords--let us to acts! Nawab-ji!"

  "Heaven-born!" Malcolm's guide advanced with a deep salaam.

  "See to it that my orders are carried out. Mayhap thine own head mayrest easier on its shoulders if there is no mischance."

  The nawab-ji bowed again, and assured the Presence that there would beno lapse on his part. Akhab Khan had turned away. His attitude betokenedutter dejection, but the Princess, not the first of her sex to barterambition for love, was radiant with hope.

  "Go, Malcolm-sahib," she whispered, "and may Allah guard you on theway!"

  "I have one favor to ask," he said. "My devoted servant, a man namedChumru--"

  She smiled with the air of a woman who breathes freely once more afterpassing through some grave peril.

  "How, then, do you think I found out the identity of the English officerwho had dared to enter Delhi?" she asked. "Your man came to me, notwithout difficulty, and told me you were here. It was he who inspired mewith the thought that your presence might be turned to good account. Butgo, and quickly. He is safe."

  Frank hardly knew how to bid her farewell until he remembered that, ifof royal birth, Princess Roshinara was also a beautiful woman. He tookher hand and raised it to his lips, a most unusual proceeding in theEast, but the tribute of respect seemed to please her.

  Following the nawab he traversed many corridors and chambers andultimately reached an apartment in which Chumru was seated. Thatexcellent bearer was smoking a hookah, with a couple of palace servants,and doubtless exchanging spicy gossip with the freedom of Easternmanners and conversation.

  "Shabash!" he cried when his crooked gaze fell on Malcolm. "By the tombof Nizam-ud-din, there are times when women are useful."

  They were let down from a window on the river face of the palace andtaken by a boat to the bank of the Jumna above Ludlow Castle, while thenawab undertook to deliver their horses next day at the camp. He carriedout his promise to the letter, nor did he forget to put forth a plea inhis own behalf against the hour when British bayonets would be probingthe recesses of the fort and its occupants.

  When Nicholson came out of the mess after supper he found Malcolmwaiting for an audience. Chumru, still wearing the servant's livery inwhich the famous brigadier had last seen him, was squatting on theground near his master. The general was not apt to waste time in talk,and he had a singular knack of reading men's thoughts by a look.

  "Glad to see you back again, Major Malcolm," he cried. "I hope you weresuccessful?"

  "It is for you to decide, sir, when you have heard my story," andwithout further preamble Frank gave a clear narrative of his adventuressince dawn. Not a word did he say about the very things he had been sentto report on, and Nicholson understood that a direct order alone wouldunlock his lips. When Frank ended the general frowned and was silent. Inthose days men did not hold honor lightly, and Nicholson was a fine typeof soldier and gentleman.

  "Confound it!" he growled, "this is awkward, very awkward," and Malcolmfelt bitterly that the extraordinary turn taken by events in the palacewas in a fair way towards depriving his superiors of the facts they wereso anxious to learn. Suddenly the big man's deep eyes fell on Chumru.

  "Here, you," he growled, "was aught said to thee whereby thou hast ascruple to tell me how many guns defend the Cashmere Gate?"

  "Huzoor," said Chumru, "there are but two things that concern me, mymaster's safety and the size of that jaghir your honor promised me."

  Nicholson laughed with an almost boyish mirth.

  "By gad," he cried, "you are fortunate in your friends, Malcolm." Thenhe turned to Chumru again. "The jaghir is of no mean size," he said,"but I shall see to it that a field is added for every useful fact youmake known."

  Frank listened to his servant's enumeration of the guns and troops atthe Lahore, Mori, and Cashmere Gat
es, and he was surprised at theaccuracy of Chumru's mental note-taking.

  "I need not have gone at all, sir," he could not help commenting whenthe bearer had answered Nicholson's final question. "I seem to have aNapoleon for a valet."

  The brigadier laid a kindly hand on Frank's shoulder.

  "You forget that you have brought me the most important news of all," hesaid. "The enemy is defeated before the first ladder is planted againsttheir walls. They know it, and, thanks to you, now we know it. My onlyremaining difficulty is not to take Delhi, but to screw up our Chief tomake the effort."

  Then his voice sank to a deep growl.

  "But I'll bring him to reason, I will, by Heaven, even if I risk beingcashiered for insubordination!"