Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER LXXXI.

  The inner part of the vestibule was not large,--a square room,supported upon massive stone pillars at the corners, with a slightlyraised dais all round; and as the Brahmuns entered and took theirseats, Tara could not avoid noticing them, and appeared more consciousof surrounding occurrences than before. Thinking she would rise, Gungaapproached to assist her, but Tara motioned her away. "My time is notyet come," she said; "I will not go;" and again she drew her garmentabout her, and resumed her silent position.

  But not for long. There was a sudden movement among those without, anda way was cleared for one who came in rapidly.

  "Who wants me here?" cried a strong manly voice, apparently hoarse fromshouting. "A girl! what girl? Let me pass."

  As he strode in through the men who were sitting behind, Tara turnedher head, and suddenly beheld her enemy.

  She rose at once, excited and defiant, so noble in her manner, soexpressive in her abhorrence, that Moro Trimmul shrank back a step,abashed.

  "Begone!" she cried, stamping her foot. "There is the Mother; nota second time shalt thou take me from her. My fathers," she cried,appealing to all around, "he would twice have dishonoured me, and Ihave been saved. Now I am under your protection, O, give me not tohim! Take me to the mother of the Rajah; she will protect me."

  "She is here," said the Shastree, stepping forward; "and thy fate shallbe decided before her. Fear not, daughter."

  "Friends," said Moro Trimmul, looking round, "have care for my honour!Twice have I rescued her from shame. Once when she was escaping fromTooljapoor; once in separating her from those who have been slain. Giveher to me, for her shame to be hidden away for ever."

  "I will not go; I will not go!" cried Tara, entering the door of theshrine, and clasping the feet of the image. "Kill me if ye will,here,--I am ready; but I will not go with him."

  "I claim them both, sirs," cried Moro Trimmul passionately; "her, andher sister Moorlee yonder. Beware, all of ye, how ye interfere withthe family honour of a respectable man. I will brook it from no one,not even from Sivaji Bhoslay himself! Have I won a victory to-day atthe Mother's command, and am I to be disgraced and humbled before her,by a deranged girl and doting priests, ere it is closed? Come forth,Tara!" he called, in a hoarse voice--"come forth, else I will tear theethence. Away with her," he cried to two of his attendants, who hadseized Gunga, and were holding her fast--"away with her to my house,and bind her there; I will bring the other. Now, friends, beware whostays me, for, by the gods, he dies, be he who he may!" and he drew hissword, and was advancing, when the Shastree stepped before him.

  "Madman," he cried, stretching forth his hands; "forbear! put up thyweapon,--no one here dreads it. We are Brahmuns, as thou art! Fearnot," he continued to Tara, who had stood up also by the altar, and wastrembling violently, but not with terror. "Fear not; thou art under theprotection of the council, and he dare not interfere with thee."

  "Fool and dotard," exclaimed Moro Trimmul under his breath, and frombetween his clenched teeth, "I will settle with thee for this, oneday yet. As ye will, sirs," he continued bitterly, looking round andpanting as he dropped his sword's point. "My honour is in the hands ofa priest's council at last, not in my own keeping, and I am helpless;but hasten what ye have to do, for I will not leave ye till ye havedecided in regard to her. Look at her--harlot and witch, sorceress anddevil--who hath already destroyed men's souls,--will ye believe theMother protects such as she is?"

  "Let it be so," said the Shastree. "Tara, art thou willing to abide thenight, as the issue of the ordeal suggested by thyself, to wait hercoming? If so, we will stay here with thee."

  "Mother," she said in a low voice, turning to the altar, and joiningher hands in supplication before the image--"Mother, if I am thychild, tell me what to say to them; or, if thou wilt, let me be anothersacrifice to thee, and it will be well. Mother,--O Toolja Mata! dostthou hear?--Tara is ready before thee--ready to come!"

  Low as the words were spoken, they were heard by all; and rememberingthe events of the day, and believing in the power of the goddess, itwas expected the girl would fall and die where she was, on the solemninvocation; but it was not so. For a few moments she stood gazingintently at the image, without altering her position of supplication;then she smiled, her hands dropped, and she turned at once and facedthe assembly. Not even in her first office as priestess had her beautybeen more glorious--the expression of her features more sublime.

  "O priests and elders," she said calmly and simply, in her sweetmusical voice, "hear my last words: I am an orphan and a widow, I haveno one left on earth to protect me,--not one. To be in danger of thatman's evil designs, is to die, hourly. Did he succeed as he has tried,it would be to live in shame; now I can die in purity. The Mother callsme; she will not come to me, though I have asked her. She is far fromme, yet she beckons to me; look, there!" and she stretched forth herhand to the roof--"she calls me, and I come, pure, and purified byfire. Now listen, all ye Brahmuns; I am true and pure, and I am suteehenceforth. When ye will, and where ye will, I am sutee; and on hishead be curses, and the vengeance of Kalee, who forbids it. Let me diein the fire, and I am happy! What she puts into my mouth, I say to youtruly. Let no one forbid it."

  No one spoke, no one answered. The people before her rose as one man.Many trembled, some wept, and women screamed aloud; but Tara stoodthere unmoved, her bosom heaving rapidly, and the glowing beauty andrapture of her face unchanged.

  "Jey Kalee! Jey Toolja Mata!" exclaimed the Shastree; "let it be as shesays, brothers. Henceforth she is sutee, and we accept the sacrifice,for the Mother hath said it by her lips. Ah, the ordeal is fulfilledindeed, and to the honour of her votary! Fear not," he said, "daughter:by this act is thy husband delivered from hell; and all thou hastsuffered in this life is sanctified unto thee. Bring flowers, bringgarlands," he cried to the people; "crown her here at the altar, andlet her be worshipped."

  "Tara, Tara!" cried a husky voice close to her, entreatingly; "Tara,what hast thou done? Art thou mad? O girl, why hast thou doomedthyself? Come, there is yet time: come with me!"

  "Begone!" cried the girl, interrupting him; "I spurn thee, MoroTrimmul, before all these elders: false and cruel as thou art, I am atlast beyond thy reach!"

  "Come away, Moro," said Maloosray roughly, who had just entered,and dragged him backwards with one hand, while he seized his swordand wrested it from him with the other; "art thou a child? dost thoufight with priests and women? Come with me; the Rajah calls thee." TheBrahmun struggled to be free, but Tannajee's powerful arms were abouthim, in which he was borne away, helpless to resist.

  Not in her first admission to the office she had held, not in theholiest of ceremonies at which she had before assisted, was greaterhonour ever done to Tara than now. Bedecked with garlands, withincense burnt before her, the priests present formed themselves into aprocession, and, chanting hymns of praise, led her round and round theshrine. The temple court and its precincts were now filled with people,who took up the shouts of victory--"Jey Kalee! Jey Toolja Mata!" andas she passed onwards, throwing handfuls of flowers among them, allwho could reach her, touched her garments reverently, or prostratedthemselves before her, with frantic cries for blessings. And so theyled her on.

  How many sweet memories crowded into Tara's mind now, and urged her on.There was no fear, no irresolution--father, mother, Zyna, Fazil--alldead, as she thought, and a fierce and ruthless enemy persecuting herto the last. All she could think on was, that she was free, that noone could harm her now. Had they then led her to death, she would havegone, singing the hymns triumphantly.

  * * * * *

  Late that night Moro Trimmul returned to his place of residence. Longbefore, when Sivaji's power was in its infancy, and the young menhad taken possession of the mountain-built fort, and led their bandsforth to plunder and destroy the Mahomedan villages around, MoroTrimmul had fitted up a hollow bastion on one of the angles of theprecipice--in which the builder had left a small room and
anteroom--ashis place of shelter. The inside was rudely plastered with clay; anda sleeping-place, also of clay, had been raised from the floor, onwhich was placed a mattress and pillow. In the face of the bastion asmall oriel window had been built, which had a balcony projecting fromthe wall, large enough for two people to sit in. Seated there, youlooked down a dizzy depth upon the forest below; but on all sides theprecipices, the woods, and their deep glens, and the varied mountainsbeyond, formed a combination of glorious beauty, which there, above allother places in the mountain fortress, was most deeply felt.

  Thither had Gunga been taken by the Brahmun's servants on the morningof the battle. He had charged them to have the place swept and newlyplastered with clay, and Gunga, with having it done as he wished. Onits completion, she had gone into the temple to worship for him in theexercise of her vocation, as the signal was to be given, which theyall told her of. She knew of his design. He had charged her to watchTara, and, if she saw her, to give him information of her actions. Hehad told her that he should bring Fazil's sister to the fort, for hefelt sure she could not escape him. Herself, Zyna, and Tara shouldbe confronted at last. How long should the latter elude him? For theKhan, Gunga cared nothing; for Zyna and Fazil as little--they wereMussulmans, and must perish,--but for Tara!

  Ah yes, strange indeed, perhaps, yet not unnatural, had been therevulsion. The jealousy which had urged Gunga to hate the girl, andassist in plots for her ruin, had strangely altered to love. Twice hadMoro Trimmul been foiled; twice he had fallen savagely upon her, andbeaten her cruelly. We know when he did when Tara was last rescued,and how Gunga, relenting, had not then abandoned him. But it had notended there. The fierce rage of disappointment had broken out againand again, and he had vented it upon her brutally. She had bornethis patiently at the time; but she had now sworn to herself, in thetemple of the goddess at Wye, not only to lend herself no more to MoroTrimmul's design, but had formed the resolution to assist Tara toescape--to carry her off by mountain paths; and she knew that if theycould once enter the forest near the fort, they were safe.

  Day by day, as these thoughts passed through Gunga's mind, the love forTara grew stronger, till it became an absorbing passion. Would she buttrust her--would she but believe her--they might yet again see theirbeloved Tooljapoor, and she would work out her forgiveness by devotion.It was not too late, she thought: but....

  We have already told how she met her in the temple: but it isimpossible to describe her despair at her failure to induce Tara toescape, or when the man she dreaded, bid his servants seize and bindher. If she could have remained with Tara--only near her....

  Alas! it was too late now. She had scarcely been carried, shrieking,from the temple, by the servants of Moro Trimmul, when another manfollowed, and said Tara had become a Sutee, and was to be burnt nextday beside the tank in the fort. Then Gunga felt the heroism of thegirl's resolution. At least Moro Trimmul could not injure her; shewould soon be beyond reach of his persecution. It was well--yes, it waswell. She could at least see her die; and then?...

  The desire of death sat hard at her heart. At first she shuddered atit; but once it had entered, it abode there and grew stronger. If MoroTrimmul cast her off now, it would be but to be haunted by the memoryof the girl she had wronged so cruelly, and the love for whom, and thedespair of whose forgiveness, had pursued her night and day--night andday: but it seemed to have reached her at last. "Yes, she touched mekindly," she said to herself; "she parted the hair from my face as asister would have done: ere she spoke to me she forgave me: and I willsee her die, decked in flowers, as a holy and pure sacrifice. I willworship her as she goes to death, and then I will follow her. O Tara,there, not here, I may be forgiven before the Mother."

  Moro Trimmul's servants had taken Gunga, and literally obeyed theorders they had received; bound her with one of her own garments, lestshe should do herself or them injury, and laid her gently upon thecouch in the inner room. How long she had lain there she had no idea;but, as the time passed, it only confirmed her resolution. She woulddie, no matter how. There was nothing definite in her mind, but thatshe would die: a dull despair blunting every faculty--a reality ofdetermination before which her very senses seemed to refuse office.

  She heard Moro Trimmul ask without where she was, and the servantanswered that she was within, lying on the couch. A small lamp had beenlighted and placed in a niche; and as he entered and stood over her,she feigned sleep. She felt him unfasten the bandage round her arms,and then he dragged her roughly to her feet.

  "Devil!" he cried, "this is thy doing, and she is gone. Lost! O Tara,how beautiful thou wast in living death!" he continued, apostrophizingher, "speaking thy own death-sentence--as I listened, I could have diedfor thee."

  "Thou art a coward, Moro Trimmul," cried the girl, scornfully anddesperately; "thou darest neither die thyself, nor kill me. Thou diewith Tara? she would spit at thee, as I do."

  He struck her brutally to the ground with his clenched hand. "Liethere, witch! devil!" he cried. "Thou hast been the cause of all this;alone, I could have done it. Thou and she are one now, else why didstthou not decoy her here? Did I not tell thee to do so? Speak!" and hepushed her with his foot as she lay.

  She arose. "Moro Trimmul," she said calmly, but with desperation in hervoice, "may the Mother forgive me what I have done with thee againstTara; that is all I pray now. Between me and thee all is ended, longsince. Let me go. I will serve thee no longer, I spit at thee and defythee; and in the Rajah's court, before every image of Kalee in theDekhan, if I live, I will sing thy shame and her honour. Let me go out!"

  She saw him set his teeth, as his eyes flashed with a wicked glare,draw a knife from his waist-band, and spring at her. The glitter ofthat knife was the last thing, perhaps, of which she was conscious,except that she seized the hand that held it, instinctively, and thencame a struggle for life. But only a brief one. A weak girl, before apowerful man, could not endure long,--sickened, too, as she was byhis previous blow. Back--back, he forced her to the window, which wasopen; on the little balcony without, they swayed to and fro fearfullyfor a moment; but he wrenched his hand free by a desperate effort, and,striking her one heavy blow with the knife, where he knew not,--as thebody dropped heavily in his arms, he pushed it forth into the darkair. He did not hear it fall, though he listened; but in the morning,the vultures, which lived on pinnacles of the precipices, were seendescending in hundreds to their hideous feast below.