CHAPTER LXI.
Fazil Khan rode rapidly up the pass, for he knew his father wouldawait his coming ere he gave the final orders for the march. Truth tosay, he was hungry enough, and a breakfast upon Ibrahim Khan's kicheriand kabobs would be very welcome. As he reached the top, a busy scenepresented itself. Wherever he looked, little fires were lighted betweenthree large stones, upon which the small cooking-pans used by the men,and carried in their saddle-bags, were placed; and the savoury smellswhich issued from them, and pervaded the air, proved that the stews andcurries within were in very satisfactory progress, and were certainlyvery provocative of appetite. While one member of a small mess watchedthe pot, others were kneading dough, or patting out "chupatees" orunleavened cakes, with their hands, and baking them on their "towas" oriron plates. Hundreds of these operations were going on simultaneouslyin every direction; for the force had a long day's march before it toSholapoor. There would be no midway halt, and men and horses must alikebe fed. Everywhere, too, the merry laugh, the broad joke or banterincidental to camp life, resounded among the rude soldiery, and thecries of sellers of milk, curds, firewood, and fruit, mingled with thempleasantly.
Already was the scene of the night before forgotten. The dead for themost part had been buried out of sight; and if grief and misery satat the heart of many a household in the town--mourning for relationsslain, or property plundered or destroyed,--in the camp without, nosuch feelings existed among the fierce and fanatical men. A grimsatisfaction prevailed at having defiled one of the holiest shrinesof the Dekhan, plundered its property, and slain its priests. To all,the night's events had been those of ordinary skirmish and excitement:forgotten with the next petty cares of life, and anticipation of newscenes of adventure,--and possibly of new plunder.
"Where hast thou been, Meah Sahib?" cried one of a knot of his own men,whom he met almost as he reached the plain above the pass. "The KhanSahib has been searching for thee, and is anxious. Ah! when wilt thoulearn caution, and take some of us at least with thee? Remember this isnot Beejapoor, and the people are not in good humour after last night.Any fellow with a gun behind one of those rocks----"
"Thanks, friend," said Fazil, interrupting him. "I did but go to ShereKhan and the rest of them below, and tell them to precede us; butthanks for the caution nevertheless. Now, get ready soon, for I shallnot be long away from ye," and he cantered on to the town.
Giving directions for a led horse to be accoutred for him, in lieu ofthat which had carried him through the night, Fazil entered the Muttwhere he had left his father, and found him girding himself for thejourney.
"Where hast thou been, son? we could not wait; but they have kept thekicheri hot for thee, and the kabobs are good; only they have too muchpepper and garlic in them. The Khan's cookery is not refined, my son:not like thy mother's. Inshalla! she will have a famous dish readyfor us this evening, for I am going to send on a camel. Hast thou anymessage?"
Fazil knew by his father's volubility that he was in good humour. Theflurried, anxious expression of his face had departed, as well underthe influence of a hearty breakfast as owing to the feeling that,under the circumstances, he had really done his best to smooth overthe events of the night. It was unfortunate, certainly, that they hadhappened; but it could not be helped now. A donation from the Kingwould soothe the Brahmuns. So he had again sent for the local Naeik,and charged him to assure all of his sympathy and sorrow. Afzool Khanhad taken advantage of the Peer's absence to do this, for in hispresence he would have feared to commit himself by expression of anyconsideration for infidels.
"I did but ride down the pass, father," replied Fazil, "to speak withShere Khan, and send him on to camp. They will halt by-and-by, andrefresh themselves. Yes, truly, something to eat will be welcome;therefore, sit down and rest. We have a long ride before us."
"The camel is ready," said the rider of it, entering. "What are yourorders?"
"Write a line from me to thy mother, Fazil," said the Khan, "to sayshe is to have kicheri and kabobs ready for us, and that we have wona victory with little loss. That will cheer her, and put her in mindof old days, and we shall have a glorious dish. Inshalla! we shall behungry, son!"
Fazil wrote what was needed to Lurlee, and added, on separate paper,a few lines to Zyna, to take care of Tara on her arrival. There wasno time to write her story, but she would hear particulars from Taraherself. "Take this at your best speed," he said to the man. "Give itinto the hands of Goolab Daee, and tell her it is for my sister only.You will overtake Shere Khan by the way. Tell him to stop where helikes, refresh the men and horses, and push on. It is of moment that heshould arrive before us, and he is already far beyond Sindphul."
"Good," replied the man; "your orders are on my head and eyes, andshall be done." In a few moments more, the clash of the bells of theanimal he rode were heard as he started, and then died away in thedistance.
What was best to be done?--to tell his father of Tara's being senton under escort of the men, or to leave explanation about her tillthey reached Sholapoor? Fazil thought over this as he ate, and he ateheartily what was brought, and did justice to it; while his fathersat and looked on approvingly, or told his son of what had been doneto assure the people, and what he would do, in spite of the Peer, toobtain a donation for the temple. "Yes, it will be better to tell him,"Fazil thought. "He will not object, as he is in this complacent humour,and we are alone."
"I had no opportunity of speaking, father, before, else I would havetold you," he said, after he had washed his hands and sat down.
"What!" interrupted the Khan, who detected a tone of embarrassment inFazil's voice--"what has happened? Didst thou lose any men? Who isdead?"
"No, no, father, we had no fighting," replied Fazil. "All I had tosay was, that I sent the lady we took, with Shere Khan. She had apalankeen, and the bearers said they would take her to Sholapoor atonce. There were twenty of them, and it is only twelve coss."
"A lady, son! Who?" he answered in an indifferent tone.
"A Brahmun girl, father, of rank. She was escaping in a palankeen, andwe took her when we took Moro Pundit."
"Indeed! His wife perhaps?"
"No, father; she said not. She has nothing to do with him; but she wasin such grief at her people being killed in the town, that I could onlymake out she had relatives at Wye, and I sent her on under Shere Khan.As she was richly dressed, and had valuable jewels on her, I feared tosend her back, and she was willing to go."
"Poor girl, poor girl," said the Khan, sighing; "and she is young, yousay. Alas, alas! to be so soon a widow!"
"Quite young, father--sixteen, perhaps--and very beautiful. O, sobeautiful! I never saw one like her before."
"Wonderful!" returned the Khan. "Then she let thee see her?... Ah,Pahar Singh, well, so you are already prepared," he exclaimed, as thechief entered the room suddenly, and saluted them. "Have you eaten? Areyour people ready? We go on to Sholapoor."
"I am come to bid you farewell, my lord," said the chief. "I have donemy work with you for the present. My duty is not with the army, but onthe marches; and I hear of a raid by the Golconda people which I mustsee to. My nephew Gopal Singh would fain have accompanied your son, butI cannot spare him. He is my only stay since--since ... no matter. Mymen would be worse than useless to you, and you will not miss what Icould send. Nevertheless, if----"
"No, no," said the Khan, who in truth had dreaded rather than desiredPahar Singh's company, and that of his lawless freebooters; "no, youare better here in your own country, and I have already weakened theforce too much at Nuldroog to withdraw you."
"Then we may go, Khan?"
"Certainly; you are honourably dismissed with thanks, and mention willbe made of you, when I write, as you deserve."
"I have only one thing to say, Khan Sahib,--and I pray you to pardon mysaying it,--and that is, beware of Moro Pundit. Had I been a Mussulmanlike you, I had not spared him: but as you have done so, it is not forme, a Rajpoot, to be concerned in a Brahmun's death. He is faithful toh
is cause, and he cannot be true to you."
"He can do no harm, friend," said the Khan, laughing. "I fancy theNimbalkur and others have had a good lesson, and will keep quiet; and,for the rest, as I am going to scotch the head of the snake, we neednot fear if its tail writhes a little; it can do no harm: but I thankyou for your caution nevertheless, and you will see to my people ofAfzoolpoor and its villages?"
"Surely, Khan Sahib; be under no apprehension--nothing can molest them.Now, put your hand on my head once more, embrace me, and let me go."
"Go," said the Khan, rising and doing as he wished--"go; be careful,friend; remember the royal clemency, and be true."
"Will you come with me for a moment, Meah?" said Pahar Singh, as hedisengaged himself from the Khan's embrace.
Fazil got up and followed him. As they emerged from the courtyard intothe street, Fazil saw that Gopal Singh and others, ready mounted,awaited their chief, and they saluted him courteously.
"Come hither, Lukshmun," said the chief.
The man was well mounted, and advanced. Fazil saw that his cheeks werewet with tears, and his eyes red and swollen. Hideous as the face nowwas, there was a dignity of sorrow in it which was not unimpressive.
"Meah," said the chief, "this is a foolish slave of mine, who imploresme to send him with you; he wants no pay,--only food and clothes, andforage for his horse. He will be faithful to you in all danger andtrial, and knows no fear. When you return from the campaign, send himto me again. Do you accept him?"
"I do, Pahar Singh, and will be to him as you were, that I promise,"replied Fazil.
"Then dismount and kiss the young Khan's feet," said the chief.
Lukshmun obeyed him, dismounted, and prostrating himself before Fazil,embraced his knees. He then did the same to his master, lying at hisfeet, and sobbing bitterly.
"Get up, fool," said the chief kindly, drawing the back of his handroughly across his eyes. "Go, thou art safer with him than with me, go!Take him, Meah," he continued, putting the man's hand into Fazil's,who raised him up. "Take him; he will be to you the faithful hound hewas to me and my boy yonder: we can ill spare him, but, after whathas happened, he is better away for a while. And now, sir, we part.Remember what I said to your father, and that while Mahrattas are weakthey will be treacherous. I wish you well; in the words of your people,'Khoda Hafiz.'"
So saying, the chief mounted, caused his spirited horse to executeseveral caracoles and plunges, and, with his nephew and followers, rodeoff rapidly to the plain beyond, where the shrill horn and deep drum ofhis troop were sounding the assembly.
"Had it been thus if you knew me, Pahar Singh?" thought Fazil, as thelast of the rough troopers passed round the corner of the buildingsto the plain beyond. "Hardly, I think; but it is well as it is, andyour goodwill is better than your spite." As he turned round he sawthe hunchback beside him. The bridle of his horse was hooked withinhis left arm; his hands, joined together, were raised to his nose, andhe had balanced himself on his left leg, with the sole of the rightfoot pressed against the calf of the left. His grotesque features weretwisted into a curious expression, in which grief and joy struggled formastery.
"Your name is Lukshmun?" said Fazil.
"My lord, it is; I am your slave now and for ever:--till I die, if youpermit me to serve you in my own way."
"And that is?"
"No matter now," said the creature; "you will find out. If I displeaseyou, I will go away of my own accord and give no trouble; if I pleaseyou, let me be near you, and that is enough."
"How is this? You talk like a woman."
"Do you know anything of them, master?" replied the man. "Perhaps not;it takes a long life to know them, they say. Do I talk like a woman?Ah no, sir; to me you are the woman who has bewitched me, and I followyou blindly for the sake of the love I have for you, which sits in myheart."
"Since when, friend?" said Fazil, laughing.
"Since last night, when you were kind to that poor Brahmun girl whoowes her honour to you, and long before that, of which I will tell youanother time. Can I do anything now?"
"Hast thou eaten?"
"Yes; and I have enough here to last me two days," and he pointed to abundle of cakes tied at his back. "I can give you one if you like, whenyou are hungry."
"I do not want it--I have eaten," said Fazil. "Can I trust theealready?"
"O, master!" cried the man piteously, as the tears started suddenly tohis eyes. "Do not say that! I am a poor hunchback, who cannot say finewords, what is the use of my talking? If you mistrust me, bid me go. Iwill return to him who gave me to you--better that, than be doubted.Enough, shall I go?"
"No, stay," continued Fazil; "I will trust thee. Tie thy horse there,and give him some fodder from the bundle yonder.... That is well. Nowgo to the Kucheri; say to the Naeik, that Fazil Khan Meah wants thebundle of things given to him by Janoo Naeik, and he is to give it."
"And what if Janoo is there, master? he will not allow it."
"That is why I do not go myself," said Fazil; "but if there is anydifficulty I will come. Show this as a token, and it will suffice," andhe took off his signet-ring.
"I will bring them without this, Meah, and yet I take it. Tell some oneto mind the mare, else if she hears the horn she will break her rope;"and the man, throwing his coarse black blanket over him, shambled offat a quick pace towards the town. It was but a short distance. Fazilwaited there looking at his own horses which were picketed in thestreet. He had no desire to rejoin his father, who was quietly smokingwithin. Fortunately, too, the priest rode up; said he wanted a hookah,dismounted, and went into the Mutt. He would be company enough.
Fazil watched the street narrowly. Had he done right in sendingLukshmun--ought he not to have gone himself? He could yet go if therewere refusal, but there might be no occasion. In a little time, lessthen he had supposed possible, he saw the hunchback coming up thestreet at a sharp run, and as he reached Fazil, he put into his hand aheavy bundle of what felt like ornaments of gold and silver, tied in acloth which was spotted with blood.
"Shabash!" cried Fazil, "it was well contrived. How didst thou getthem?"
"Janoo Naeik is an ass, and the father of all the asses in Tooljapoor.I know him of old," returned Lukshmun. "He was there sitting like ascared owl on the steps of the Kucheri. 'Come and drink,' says heto me. 'I will,' said I; 'wait, I have a message from the master todeliver.' Then I went in, and said to a Karkoon, 'Give me what Janoogave just now, the people are come for it.' He could not go in there,for he is a Mang. 'Take them,' says a Karkoon, opening a box; 'I don'tlike to touch them, they are bloody.' So I took them out, master, andhere they are. As I passed Janoo, I gave him a rupee, and told himto go to the Kullal's and get some drink ready, while I delivered mymessage--and he is gone. O, the owl, the owl! he will be drunk by thistime; but, master, that man is as true as steel, and put these intrust; they were not loot to him. Wilt thou sell them here? No, nothere?"
"Sell them!" cried Fazil, laughing; "no, surely--why?"
"O, the master never does--he always keeps the gold and silver, andbuys them at his own valuation; but he gives us a share, nevertheless,and I shall miss mine of last night's work:--better, however, that thewomen have it."
"Ah! friend, I fear thou wilt have no such luck with me," returned theyoung man. "That is no loot, however; it will only go to its owner."
"Ah, Meah, I understand now," said the man quickly. "Yes, for her. Poorchild! poor child! and when she sees the blood!--better throw thatcloth away, and tie them up in a clean handkerchief."
"No," said Fazil, "keep it. It is evidence of the worst, and she needsto know it; but let us count them. Thirteen, you see, gold and silver;and look, there is blood on these anklets--let it stay. Yes, now I willtrust thee."
Just then the Khan and the priest came out of the court, both accoutredfor the march.
"I was seeing to the horses, father," said Fazil, in anticipation ofhis father's remarks, "and questioning this gift of Pahar Singh's; lookat him--a strange being
, is he not?"
Lukshmun advanced, prostrated himself, kissed the Khan's feet, butsaid nothing. The priest was acknowledged by a distant but respectfulreverence only, and the hunchback seemed to regard him with antipathy.
"Strange enough, son," said the Khan, looking at him from head to foot:"ask thy mother about his horoscope when we get to camp. He may belucky, after all--these hunchbacks often are so."
"My lord," said Lukshmun pleadingly, joining his hands, "all theBrahmuns like to try their hands on my nativity, and they all say I amlucky. For I am a twin, and they never could make out exactly whichof the two was the eldest born; but they believed Rama was, who wasalways unlucky, and had a bad wife and worse children, and he was shotyesterday; so the bad luck and bad stars--sun and moon, and all--wentwith him; and now your slave is the luckiest of men, since he is theproperty of the noble Afzool Khan and his son Fazil. Surely the starssent him."
"Thou hast a bold tongue," said the priest. "Peace, be silent."
"Ah, Maharaj!" returned the man, "holy men like you and the Brahmunsthink too much upon divine glories, to mind what a poor fool like mesays. I, too, know my prayers already, and shall become a Mussulman,when I have heard a few more of your reverence's sermons. O, they arewonderful! Bismilla--ir-rahman-ir-raheem!----"
"Come," said the Khan, "they are beating the Nagaras everywhere, andas all are ready, we need not delay." So, mounting their horses,which were being led about, they rode on to the plain where the menwere assembling fast, and closing in heavy masses upon their severalstandards. In a few minutes, the Paigah of Afzool Khan, Moro Punditbeing in the midst closely guarded, moved on down the pass, followed bythe Abyssinian cavalry; and their bright steel morions, gay scarves,trappings and standards, gleamed in the blazing sunshine. Yet it wasnot hot enough to be oppressive; a fresh westerly wind had arisen,driving before it large masses of fleecy cloud, which, as they passed,threw broad chequers of light and shade over the plain, rustling amongthe tall ripe corn, which bowed before it in golden wavy ripples, andrefreshing the men who, though few had slept, were as yet unconsciousof fatigue under the excitement they had gone through.
The people of the town watched the long line, that, owing to the roughnature of the road, straggled down the pass, with thankful heartsfor deliverance from further molestation; and as the last of themen disappeared behind a shoulder of the mountain, a faint shout of"Jey Kalee! Jey Toolja!" rose from a group of men, consisting of theNimbalkur and other chiefs who were assembling at his house. Othersclustered about the edge of the tableland, and when they saw the longline emerge upon the plain beyond the groves and gardens of Sindphul,and heard the loud booming notes of the Nagaras growing fainter in thedistance, many a heart breathed a prayer of thanks for deliverance,intermingled with defiance and deep curses on those from whose violencethey had suffered.
In the temple a group of priests were sitting about the shrine weeping,and the image of the goddess still lay on its back, the ruby eyesflashing in the glare of the lamps now lighted about it. No one,as yet, dared to touch it, without some preliminary ceremonies ofdeprecation of her wrath. Within, the blood had been washed away--butwithout, in the court, it still lay in patches, blackening and crackingin the sun.
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