Barclay of the Guides

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH

  Asadullah

  Bahadur Shah, King of Delhi, was holding darbar in his private hall ofaudience--the Diwan-i-khas. It was an imposing scene: the pure whitemarble of the walls, ornamented with delicate inlaid work; the richdecorations and gorgeous colour of the ceiling; the arches with mosaictraceries, giving views of beautiful gardens: all this would have made afit setting for a mighty monarch's court. The old king, tremulous withage and anxieties, sat in the centre on a dais of white marble, and nodoubt deplored at times the cupidity of his predecessor Nadir Shah, whohad turned into money, a hundred years before, the wondrous peacockthrone, in which the spread tails of the birds were encrusted withsapphires and rubies and diamonds and other precious stones, cunninglyarranged in imitation of the natural colours. But his monarchy was sadlydiminished in wealth and dignity. Successive invaders had all takensomething for themselves; and though he was in courtesy styled king, andreceived royal salutes from the guards at his doors, his territory hadbeen confined, since the British imposed their rule upon him, to hispalace; and instead of the untold wealth that had once been his, he hadbeen granted the mere pittance of L120,000 a year. And now it seemedthat he would lose even this, for the British still held the Ridge; hisgenerals and their forty thousand men had as yet made good none of theirconfident boasts of sweeping the handful of Feringhis away, and the oldking wished with all his heart that the mutineers had let well alone. Hewas depressed, wretched; what a mockery seemed that gilt scroll ofPersian on the arches above his head--

  "If on earth is a bower of bliss, It is this, it is this, it is this."

  The hall was thronged. There was Bakht Khan, the commander-in-chief, thesquare blunt soldier, who was yet said by some to hide under hisbluffness a character of cunning and duplicity. To him the querulous oldking turned a cold shoulder; for he had been for several weeks in thecity, and yet no success had attended his arms save the burning ofAlipur--a trumpery feat. There was Mirza Mogul, daily growing morejealous of his supplanter. Bakht Khan's men had received six months' payin advance ('tis true it was the product of their own plundering), whileMirza Mogul had the greatest difficulty in squeezing a few thousandrupees out of the treasury to satisfy his clamorous troops. There wasAhsanullah, the king's physician, a thin fox-faced man in black; andMirza Nosha, the poet, with verses in his pocket composed to celebratethe victory when it was won; and near him Hassan Askari, who had in hispocket Bakht Khan's order for the construction of five hundred ladders,so that the sepoys might escape over the walls if the English took thecity. All the notabilities of Delhi were there, and for hours the oldking sat, receiving petitions, hearing demands for redress frommerchants who had been plundered, listening to the Kotwal's reports ofthe misdeeds of the young prince Abu Bakr, who was constantlyintoxicated and engaged in riotous disorder. Saligram, the banker,complained that all his papers and chests had been rifled, and he was aruined man. A messenger came in and reported that the English wereconstructing a new battery within half-a-mile of the walls. A poor oldman, who said he was the king's cousin, made an offering of two rupeesin aid of the holy cause. Another messenger entered with news that adetachment of the Nimuch brigade had gone out to fight the English, whohad all run away. The king called him a liar; he had heard such newsbefore. And then, just as the darbar was closing, there entered one ofthe king's attendants, and asked if the Lord of the World wouldgraciously condescend to receive a chief from the hill country, who hadentered the city at the head of three hundred well-mounted men.

  "Who is he?" asked the king.

  "Hazur, his true name no one knows; but his horsemen call him Asadullah,and in truth he is a very lion in wrath and courage. He has done greatthings among the Feringhis at Agra and Gwalior, and being at one time aprisoner of the English he hates them with a bitter hatred. And now hecomes with three hundred brave men whom he has gathered, and cravesleave to present a nassar to the Pillar of State, and to offer hisservices in the cause."

  "We desire not to receive him," said the king. "Have we not soldiersenough in Delhi to pay, without adding more? If the English cannot bebeaten with the forty thousand we now have, how shall three hundred helpus?"

  This was mere querulousness, as every one in the hall knew. The kingdared not offend anybody at this critical moment in his affairs,certainly not a chief who could command a body of troops. After biddingthe man wait, and keeping him waiting for a long time while he wentthrough the form of consulting his advisers, the king announced that hewould see this warrior whom men named the Lion of God. The officialretired. In a few minutes there entered the hall a stately figure withflowing white beard and red turban. He made obeisance to the king,handed him a nassar of a hundred rupees, and declared in a strong,resonant voice that he was ready to fight the English, he and his threehundred men.

  There was a group of officers at the end of the hall from which entrancewas had to the Akab baths. They were so much preoccupied with a matterthey were discussing, that the proceedings in the centre of the hall hadfor some time escaped their notice. Now, however, at the sound of thatringing voice, one of them, Minghal Khan, started, and immediatelyafterwards changed his position in such a way that he was partiallyhidden by one of the columns supporting the arcade. And there heremained until the rising of the king signified that the audience was atan end. Then he made towards the door among the throng, keeping close tothe wall, and moving in the manner of one who avoids observation.

  But the crowd was thick, and its departure slow, so that when the chief,whom his men had named Asadullah, left the side of the king--who hadkept him in talk, having apparently taken a fancy to him--it chancedthat as his eyes ranged round the hall, they fell upon the face ofMinghal Khan, who at that very moment had turned a little aside to lookat the new-comer. Their glances crossed; a light flashed in the eyes ofeach; and Asadullah, whom Minghal had known as Rahmut Khan, took a stepforward as though to hasten after his enemy. But he checked himself. Theking's palace was no place for the settlement of a personal quarrel: nodoubt there would be opportunities. Each of the chiefs knew, as hecaught the look in the other's eyes, that the fact that they wereengaged in a common cause would not weigh for a moment if they camewithin reach of one another. The many discordant elements in Delhi wereheld together for the time by their common hatred of the English; ifthat bond were relaxed, they would fly apart with shattering force.

  Minghal Khan got out of the palace before Rahmut Khan, and hastenedimmediately to his house. He then dispatched his khitmutgar to bid theattendance of one of the jamadars of his regiment.

  "Salaam, Azim Ali," he said in response to the officer's greeting. "Ihave but now returned from the palace. The old king grows more feeble,and his authority less and less. There was much talk among us of thearrears of pay; but it is indeed true that the treasury is all butempty, and it will never be full while Wallidad Khan is collector of therevenue, and such pitiful nassars are brought to the king as werebrought to-day. Imagine, Azim Ali, a bent old dodderer who claimedkinship with the Lord of the World, and offered him two rupees!"

  "It is indeed pitiful," said the jamadar. "What is to be said to thesowars? They will assuredly plunder the shops if they get no pay, andthe general has said that all plunderers shall be hanged."

  "What, indeed? Is it not hard that our men, who have been enduring theheat and burden, throwing away their lives in fighting the English,should be worse off than such brigands as the men whom this Asadullahhas brought into the city? The general forbids plunder: well, he is afriend of mine, and must be obeyed. But these new-comers, have they notplundered? What have they done but load themselves with the loot ofvillages, and snapped up ill-defended convoys--enterprises of littledifficulty and less danger? There is great talk of this old freebooteras a man of high courage: hai! it is false. Do I not know of him? Theycall him lion; a more fitting name would be pariah dog. He is not a manto risk his skin. And yet, forsooth, he comes into Delhi at the head ofthese three hundred, and the king slobbers over him,
and without doubthe will squeeze from the treasury what rupees he can, and then, when theword comes to fight, he will shelter himself behind us who know whatfighting is, and expect his full share of plunder when the English arebeaten. Hai! it is a shame and a scandal."

  "True, most noble subahdar; it is enough to make our men rise up andclaim that all who enter thus with full hands should share what theyhave among us."

  "And what they could not keep but for us; for are there not princes inthe city who, were these men left undefended, would swoop down likehawks upon them and strip them of all they have? Without us, trainedsoldiers, would not the English assuredly catch them and hang them up?Is this thing to be endured? Here are we, lodged within a shout'sdistance of them, and we starve while they live on the fat of the land."

  Minghal knew the man he was talking to. He was a simple ruffian, whogrew more and more indignant as his superior artfully stimulated hisdiscontent.

  "It would not be a matter of surprise to me," Minghal continued, "werethe men to rise in their wrath and secure for themselves what is theirjust due. As a servant of our lord the king, and a loyal lieutenant ofBakht Khan, our commander-in-chief, I could not countenance such atransgression of his strict command; but I am a man like them: I knowwhat hunger is: am I not myself often at my wit's end for thewherewithal to buy a meal, with many months' pay due to me? And as a manI could assuredly not blame any action that our sowars might take."

  The simple jamadar gulped at the bait. Minghal had no need to say more.That same night, a Pathan trader who had entered the city by the Ajmirgate at sundown, just before all the gates were closed, witnessed ascene not unfamiliar in Delhi at this time of unrest and relaxedauthority. In the space before a serai near the Jama Masjid, a greatcrowd of men was engaged in desperate rioting. He thought at first thatit was one of those little affairs in which the princes of the blood,notably Abu Bakr, sometimes disported themselves: a raid upon a banker,or a silversmith, or some merchant who was suspected of having featheredhis nest. But inquiring of an onlooker who stood out of harm's waywatching the conflict, he learnt that the regiment of Minghal Khan--thatbold warrior, and friend of the commander-in-chief--was attacking thequarters of a troop of three hundred Irregulars, men of all castes andno country, who had arrived in the city that day and been grantedquarters in this serai by the king.

  "And thou art a Pathan, too, by thy speech, O banijara," said the man."Pathans are ever unruly--I mean no offence to thee, who art a man ofpeace. The noble subahdar, Minghal Khan, is a Pathan, and the leader ofthe new-comers is a Pathan also."

  "What is his name, O bariya?" asked the trader, judging by hisinformant's attire that he was a swordsmith.

  "Men call him Asadullah, and say he is a very great warrior. Bah! Thereis too much talk of very great warriors, and too little fighting. I am agood Musalman, and no man can say I am not a faithful subject of theking--may Allah be his peace!--but it is nevertheless the truth, Obanijara, that I was more prosperous under the English raj than I amthis day."

  "There will be work for thee to-morrow, O grinder of swords, for manyedges will be blunted. Hai! What a din they make! I can hardly hearmyself speak. Why are they using no firearms?"

  "That is easy to understand. I speak to a friend--thou and I are men ofpeace. Well, without doubt, this is not a quarrel that suddenly arisesfrom a chance hot word. Not so--it was purposed from the beginning. Someof these new men are out in the streets, beholding the many fine sightsof this city, and that seemed a good occasion to the men of MinghalKhan; for in truth these new men are said to have good store of plunderthey have taken from the English as they came hither; and, as all menknow, the soldiers of Minghal Khan, and of many another officer, areyearning for their pay. And so they came and fell upon the men ofAsadullah at their quarters yonder, and brought no firearms, since theymake a great noise; and the new men being taken wholly by surprise, hadnot time so much as to fetch their muskets. As thou seest, there isgreat fighting at the gate, and some are even now scaling the wall. Wah!Unless the Kotwal or Bakht Khan come with a great force, methinks in alittle those men of Asadullah will be in a sad case, for the others aremuch greater in number. It is a good fight; as thou sayest, it will giveme work to-morrow, my shop is hard by; and therefore I say, let themfight on."

  The two stood side by side watching the fray. There was a great noise ofclashing arms, and fierce yells, but such uproar was too common to havebrought as yet any of the authorities to the spot. The defenders of theserai were hard pressed. Some had already been driven within the gate;more and more of the attackers had mounted the wall and leapt into theenclosure; and it seemed that the swordsmith's forecast of the end wouldbe justified. But suddenly a group of eight or ten men rounded thecorner of the street, remote from where the two watchers stood. Theyhalted for a moment, as though they did not at once comprehend themeaning of the scene before them. The night was dark, but the light ofthe stars revealed those new arrivals as stalwart, turbaned men. Theirpause was very brief. Then, drawing their talwars, they swept upon therear of the hundred or more sepoys thronging in front of them. "Wah,wah!" they shouted, and their fierce war-cry fell upon the ears of thesepoys at the same time as their terrible weapons smote their limbs. ThePandies were taken utterly by surprise, and began to scatter in a panic.The diversion came in the nick of time. The defenders took heart fromthe arrival of their comrades; the attackers were divided in mindwhether to stay or to flee; and in a very few moments the whole thronghad melted away; those who were on the wall saw themselves unsupportedand dropped to the street, and the new-comers followed in hot chase,being joined by others from within the gates.

  "Wah! That was Asadullah himself," said the swordsmith. "Of a truth, heis a great warrior. Didst thou see him?"

  "I saw a big man, and he seemed older than I had supposed, but it wastoo dark to see him clearly. I am a Pathan, as thou didst say, and wereI a man of war, I would fain have had a part with them. But being a manof peace, far be it from me to endanger my skin in broils of this kind."

  "Well, it is over now, and 'twere best for us to get ourselves home.Verily I shall have work in the morning, and it befits to be up early.The night is damp and chill, and now I look at thee, art thou not a-coldin that thin raiment of thine? Hill-men like thee are not wont to go sothinly clad."

  "True, good bariya, and 'tis by evil chance I am as thou seest. I leftmy chogah in a certain place, and lo! within a little it was no longerthere. I doubt not it is now among the belongings of some vile Hindu."

  "Hai! Vile, indeed! When is this truce to be ended? The king hascommanded that no cows be killed until the English are beaten, and wegood Musalmans must forsooth abstain from that good meat for the sake ofthese Hindus. Wah! The time will come. Let but the English be destroyed,and then we will see what the Hindus have to say. Get thee a warmercovering, friend, and Allah be with thee."

  He turned the corner of the street and was gone. The other went on hisway, and coming to a shop in the nearest bazar, and finding it closedfor the night, he battered on the door until it was opened with muchgrumbling by the owner--a man of hooked nose and venerable appearance.After nearly an hour's bargaining, the customer departed, wearing hispurchase, a well-lined Afghan chogah. Then he proceeded quickly to asmall serai on the other side of the Chandni Chauk.

  "Salaam, bhatiyara, thou beholdest me again," he said on entering.

  The innkeeper looked up with a start from among the pots in which he waspreparing supper for two guests.

  "Salaam," he said, with no great cordiality. "Thou hast been on a longvisit to that friend of thine."

  "Truly. Who can strive against fate! I was smitten with a fever. Wehill-men suffer grievously in the plains in this time of rain. But I amnow recovered, Allah be praised! and ready to go once more about mybusiness. Give me to eat, I am very hungry; and then I will sleep.To-morrow I will go forth again with my goods, and maybe I shall findmore ready buyers."

  "Hai! who can strive against fate! But a few days after thou hadstdep
arted, there came in the middle of the night vile robbers, and lo!when I awoke in the morning, thy goods were not. It is kismet."

  "Thou sayest! and my camel--did he die?"

  There was a tone of mockery in the question which apparently escaped thenotice of the innkeeper, though it provoked a chuckle from the twotraders who were tearing apart with their fingers a well-stewed fowl.

  "Hai!" said the innkeeper, with a mournful face; "when thou didst notreturn, thy camel would not eat, and his hump sank away to flatness, andon the tenth day he died."

  "Thou sayest? Of a truth, bhatiyara, he must needs come to life again nolater than the morrow's sunrise, and those vile robbers must be prickedin their hearts and restore the goods they have stolen, or assuredly theKotwal will come and visit this serai, and he will say, since it is soill a place for man and beast, it must be made desolate. What must bewill be."

  "Hai! hai!" cried the man, lifting his hands, "how should a dead camelbreathe again the breath of life, and evil-doers become good?"

  "Even these things are possible, good bhatiyara. And now let me eat, andmake ready a good charpoy. These things that I say shall come to passeven while I sleep."

  And his two fellow-guests laughed aloud, while the innkeeper muttered inhis beard.