Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER LXVII.

  Tara revived as the shawl was pushed roughly from her head, and thecool air reached her face; in another moment she was set down in averandah, closed from the outer court by thick woollen curtains, inwhich a small lamp, placed in a niche, glimmered faintly. There couldbe no doubt now. Releasing her, Moro Trimmul drew himself up, pantingwith the exertion of carrying her, and looked at her from head to footere he spoke; while Gunga, advancing from a dark corner of the room,and bending lowly with a mock gesture of reverence, touched the groundnear her feet, and then retreated a pace so as to see her better.

  "Thou hast had powerful friends, Tara," said the Brahmun bitterly, andwith a scornful sneer--"very powerful; even the enemy's general and hisfair son; but the gods are not with them, but with me. Once, in bloodand terror, didst thou escape me; but not now, girl--never more. Nowthou art mine, and there is nothing between thee and me; nor sister,nor father, nor mother; only thee, and only me; and thou hast a longaccount of misery to pay me."

  "The holy Moorlee of the goddess forgot her faith and her vow among thecow-slaying infidels; and the Mother hath sent me to bring her backfrom her dainty lover, who rides in cloth-of-gold and bright armour,"said Gunga, with another mock reverence. "Art thou ready, O Moorleeof Toolja Mata? ready to be such as I am, in her service? Come! thereis thy master and mine; be content that thou art saved the sin offaithlessness to her. Didst thou think she--the Mother," continued thegirl, advancing a step at each word till she was close to Tara, whoshrank from her--"the Mother would loose thee from thy vow to be thepetted toy of an unclean Toork? O Tara, didst thou think it? Ah, yes! Iknow thou didst, faithless, when the fair boy's arms were about thee."

  "Silence!" cried Tara panting, as these bitter words stung her to thequick. "Silence! thou art shameless, Gunga. O, what have I ever done toharm thee, that thou hast such bitter enmity to me?"

  "Thou art beautiful, and I hate thee for that. I hated thee long ago,before thou wast a Moorlee," she replied. "He loved me once, thatMoro Trimmul there; now he cries, 'Tara! Tara!' all day long, like asick child, and will not look on me. Thou wilt hate me because I havetaken thee from thy beautiful lover; but, O Tara, more deeply do I hatethee for taking mine from me. Look, he gave me this gold zone. It isas heavy as thine--heavier. That is all I have left--that is all. Hewill give thee another, by-and-by; not now, but when he has done withthee. Enough! Take her away, Moro Trimmul. I have done thy bidding, andearned the gold. Take her away--far away--ere I repent of this, theworst work of my life, and join her against thee. Go!"

  "Gunga! Gunga! go not," cried Tara, seizing her dress. "There is pityin thy heart, let it come out to me. O, leave me not to him, by yourmother, by your----"

  "Come," cried Moro Trimmul fiercely, casting his arm about her. "Thisis child's play, come.... Nay, Tara, gently, and it were better forthee--else I will strike thee," he said, under his breath, but with aterrible distinctness, as she struggled violently, shrieking as she didso. "Gunga! the shawl. Quick, girl--lest she be heard without. Quick!Bar the outer door."

  It was too late. Several persons, among whom was an elderly Brahmun ofsedate and respectable appearance, attended by armed retainers, came upthe steps hurriedly and entered the room. Between the noise of Tara'sshrieks and his own exertions, Moro Trimmul had not heard them, andwith Gunga's aid had forced Tara to the ground, and was endeavouringto tie the shawl about her head, which she was resisting with all hermight; but Gunga had succeeded in catching her hands, and Tara was muchexhausted. Another instant, and she would have been helplessly in theirpower; but at this moment Gunga saw the curtain pushed aside, and oneof the men enter with his sword drawn; and, loosing Tara, she upset thecruise burning in the niche, and fled into an inner portion of the darkapartment.

  "Who art thou?" cried the man, darting forward and seizing MoroTrimmul's arm; "what murder is this thou art doing?"

  He had had no time to escape, or even to rise from his kneeling postureto shake off the soldier's grip, and two others also caught him at thesame moment; while the elderly man, calling earnestly for a light,raised up Tara, and disengaged her from the shawl which had been thrownabout her. "Art thou wounded?" he said.

  "By the Holy Mother," cried one of the men with whom Moro Trimmul wasstruggling violently, "be quiet, else I will drive my knife into thee.Bind him, brothers, he may be armed. Quick!"

  At this moment a man bearing a lighted torch came into the court fromthe street, and ran rapidly up the steps into the room. As the lightflashed upon the struggling group of men, the leader of the partyrecognized Moro Trimmul, and bid his retainers release him. As they didso, Tara, who had partly risen, sank again to the ground, clasping hisknees, and crying piteously for protection.

  The old Brahmun understood the situation at a glance. "There wasanother woman here,--seize her!" he exclaimed. She was not, however, tobe found. "Peace," he said to Tara, "peace, my daughter; be comforted,no one shall harm thee. Who art thou? What has happened?"

  "I am the unhappy daughter of Vyas Shastree of Tooljapoor, who wasmurdered, and I am an orphan," she cried sobbing. "O, defend me fromhim; he would have done me violence and dishonour."

  "Moro Trimmul," said the old man sadly, "how often hast thou beenwarned, and what new wickedness is this?--against a Brahmun girl too,and the daughter of the man to whom thy sister was given! O, shame!"

  "She is a Moorlee," he replied sulkily, "and has done dishonour tothe Mother by living with Mussulmans in camp. It was from them I haverescued her, and would have taken her to Wye, but she resisted. I havedone no evil, Pundit, nor intended any."

  "Is this true, girl?" asked the Brahmun.

  "Quite true, Maharaj," answered Tara, sobbing hysterically, and hardlyknowing what she said: "only take me hence, and I will tell thee all;but I am not impure,--I am not defiled,--I have nothing to be ashamedof. O, put your hand on my head, and take me to my people in Wye. Saveme, else I shall die; or kill me, rather than let him or the woman comenear me. When I am alone with your family I will tell them all."

  "Come," said the man, who was Govind Narrayen, the principal envoyof the Rajah Sivaji, and a Brahmun of wealth and high station in thecountry, best known among the people under the familiar title of BabaSahib. "I am well known, and I knew and honoured your father, andgrieve his death. Come with me, and you shall go on with my people atonce to Wye. They leave the camp to avoid the confusion, and will takecare of you, and the bearers and palankeen are still in the street.

  "As to you, Moro Trimmul," he continued, turning to him, "I reserve myjudgment till I have inquired from this girl of what she complains. Ibid you, however, beware. The Maharaja is not what he used to be, andwill submit to no profligacy now. I take this girl as my daughter, andshe is safe against you. Beware!" And so saying, and giving his arm forTara to lean on, while he partly supported her with the other, he ledher out, and once more placed her in the litter, which was taken up andcarried forward rapidly.

  The Envoy and his escort had also moved with the camp, and he had senton his family to a stage some miles distant. As he passed through thestreet of the village where Tara had been set down, the bearers ofher litter, who had remained with it, hearing the stifled scream fromwithin the court, and alarmed by the sudden closing and fastening ofthe door, had stopped Baba Sahib as he went by, and besought him to seewhether Tara was not in danger. He had dismounted, some of his men hadburst in the court door, and we know the rest.

  "Again baffled, O witch that thou art!" cried Moro Pundit, flinginghimself on the ground as Tara passed out, and tearing up the clay ofthe floor in the agony of his passion: "what sent that meddling foolto aid thee? If it had been only that proud boy she loves, ah! I wouldhave slain him and her together. Gunga! Gunga! where art thou? O girl,I burn--I choke! She too is gone, devil that she is. If thou hadst onlyhelped me sooner I had stopped the screams, and no one could have heardthem. Gunga! dost thou hear? By----," and he swore a frightful oath,"come hither, or I will come and stab thee: art thou too playing withme
? Beware!"

  The girl advanced from a dark corner trembling, yet without fear; andas she did so, he raised himself on his arm, and she saw him grasp aknife at his waist-band. "Kill me," she said, "if thou wilt; twice Ihave aided thee, and twice the Mother hath saved her from us. I willhave no more of it."

  "No more!" cried the Brahmun, starting to his feet, and seizing her armhe shook her roughly--"no more! This from thee? I tell thee we havegone too far to recede. Will that old dotard be quiet? Will he spare mycharacter? Not he. He has been my enemy from the first, supplanted mein my authority, crossed me in every design, and lastly in this.--Whydidst thou bungle with the shawl? Coward! witch! devil!"--and he struckher violently on the face with his open hand at each word. "Why didstthou fail me? Go!" and he flung her away from him, so that she totteredand fell heavily against the wall beyond. "Go! may----"

  Her fall and agony of mind prevented her hearing the frightful curseswhich followed. Once before, when his sister had come to him, theparoxysm of passion had been like this, but only once, and yet he hadnot dared to strike her. She was not stunned, but O, the misery ofher mind! She felt her lips were cut, and her mouth was bleeding. Thepain of this, the degradation of having been struck, made the girldesperate. If she had had a dagger she would have stabbed Moro orherself. She could see him very dimly, for the place was dark exceptthe faint light which came in from the drawn curtains. She saw that hewas sitting, leaning against one of the wooden pillars of the room,rocking himself to and fro. He had drawn his knife, and a faint gleamof the naked blade was seen now and again as he moved. Was she to die,or he? No matter. In a frame of mind like hers death has no terror. Itis only the return to consciousness which brings fear with it, and shelay crouching on the ground, but watching him intently. If he movedtowards her, she knew she must die; but he did not move, and suddenlythe rocking ceased, he seemed to fall heavily to one side, and laythere motionless.

  Was he feigning, in order to get her into his power? No, it did notseem so, for he lay still, breathing heavily. She had heard that thickheavy breathing once before, and now recognized it again. Still shewas cautious. She rose gently, and stepping lightly forward stood overhim, yet near enough to the steps to escape if he moved. The knife hadfallen from his hand, and lay beside him. She took it up, and placed itin her own waist-band. He was insensible; his turban had partly fallenoff, and his face lay towards the light, turned upwards. He could notharm her now,--he was in her power.... The evil spirit within tuggedhard at her heart, and she drew the knife. Then the blood from her liptrickled into her mouth, and the wound smarted and urged on her hand.If he had risen and spoken a word to her, she would have killed him;but as he lay so helpless, the girl's heart once more softened. "It ismy death, I know," she said; "let him kill me; I cannot kill him, andthis faint will pass away. Now she is gone, he may love me again." Poorfool, to think it!

  Then she watched a few moments, and as she sat down by him raised hishead into her lap. The face was cold and clammy; was this death? Therewas no water, else she would sprinkle some on him, but she fanned himwith the end of her garment, and after a while he opened his eyesgently. "Gunga!" he said, stretching out his arms, "where art thou,girl? come to me." It was the old tone of kindness, almost sad. Poorfond fool, she did not resist it; and, wiping the blood from her lips,kissed his forehead.

  Meanwhile, Tara, sorely shaken in body and mind, had been put into thelitter. She heard the bearers ask the old Brahmun whether they were totake her to Afzool Khan's tents; and he had opened the door, and saidto her kindly that she had better come to her own people, and thathis wife and sister, who knew them, would take charge of her, and bekind to her; that they were at a village some miles further on, and hehimself would escort her there.

  She was helpless to object: in the first place, she dare not preferthe Mussulman noble's house, as strangers to her faith and to her ownpeople; nor dare she resist a Brahmun of the Envoy's powerful positionin whatever he chose to do. She had no alternative, indeed, for heshut the door ere she could reply, the bearers took her forward at arapid pace, and the night was somewhat advanced, ere she was againset down at the door of a respectable house in a village, and severalwomen-servants, such as are menials in Brahmun families, kindlyassisted her to alight, bringing what there was in the palankeen afterher.