CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
THE RUBY SWORD.
As they rode forth from the village fort, and its gates closed behindthem, Campian could not but once more realise the strangeness of life,and the sudden and unexpected turns the wheel of fate will take. He hadentered in a state of swooning unconsciousness, swung, in agonising andignominious attitude, one bale among the many which constitute a camel'sload. Now he rode forth at the right hand of the powerful Marri sirdar,whose honoured guest and almost blood-brother he had become, and that bya fortuitous chance which partook of the nature of a triviality. He wasmounted on a fine steed, and his worn and dingy garments had beenreplaced, as though by magic, by the finest and snowiest of raiment--even to one of the chief's highly ornamented vests of state.
How good it was to breathe again the air of freedom. Even the desertwaste in its wide expanse, the jagged treeless mountain peaks, took onall manner of soft and changing lights in the golden glow of thecloudless afternoon. Soon his terrible experiences would be as a dreamof the past. No impatience was upon him now. Life had taught him acertain amount of philosophy, and so completely had he identifiedhimself with the part he had for months past been forced to sustain,that something of the Eastern stoicism had transmitted itself to him.Now he could allow himself to think--to dwell upon those last daysbefore the tragedy that had forced him into captivity and peril andexile. Yet, why that uneasy stirring--why that misgiving? Could it bethat his impending restoration to nineteenth century life brought withit something of the cares and pains and heart-searchings of busy,up-to-date, restless, end of the century struggle after chimeras andwill o' the wisps? For months now all trace of him would have beenlost. He would have been given up as dead. How would Vivien accept thegeneral opinion? Perhaps she had long since left Shalalai. Heremembered their last parting well--ah, so well! But it had taken placeunder stress of circumstances--of circumstances abnormal and strained.In cooler moments all might have been different. And acting upon thisidea he had made no stipulation or request that he should be escorted toShalalai previous to revealing the place of concealment of the longburied treasure. He had known experience of a meeting of this sort--allthe anticipation, the dwelling upon the thought thereof day and night,the figuring out of its programme, and all the rest of it--and then,when it came--mere commonplace; disappointment perhaps--not to say astrong dash of disillusionment.
To reach the Kachin valley would take them some days--but Campian easilyprevailed upon the sirdar to despatch a swift messenger to Shalalaiannouncing his safety and approaching return--and, indeed, it suited YarHussain's own plans to do this.
We left that chief under arrest. Not long, however, was he detained.It was found practically impossible on investigation to hold himresponsible for the doings of Umar Khan; moreover he represented, andwith perfect truth, that the hostage's interests were likely to sufferfrom such detention--even if it did not entail upon him actual peril.So he was released.
Even then, however, he was in an ugly and vindictive frame of mind, andwhether his intervention or protection would have been extended to thecaptive under ordinary circumstances, it is hard to say. As it was, themere accidental glimpse of the ring worn by Campian had worked wonders.
The fact was that Campian seldom wore this ring. He had done so oflate, thinking it in keeping with the Eastern dress he had assumed, butformerly he had hardly remembered that it was in his possession. Evenof late, however, it had passed unnoticed, partly from the fact of AinAsraf's sight being dim with age partly that none of those who custodiedhim were of the family of Dost Hussain. Fortunate, indeed, that it hadbeen upon his finger at that critical moment.
At a village on their road they fell in with Ain Asraf. The old Syyedwas genuinely rejoiced at beholding his neophyte once more. The latter,in spite of his own protests, anger, menaces even, had been spirited offby the lawless and irreligious followers of Umar Khan, nor had he beenable to learn his whereabouts.
"Ah, my son," he said at the close of their cordial greeting, "Allahwatches over His own--and His Prophet holds hell in store for they whooppress them. Yet, it is well. I may no more be with thee to instructthee in the fair flowers of the faith. Yet forget not that Allah hasdelivered thee in thine extremity, and that not once."
Then he signed that the hour of prayer was at hand, and all dismounted,and the same orisons--uttered alike by chief and lowest herdsman--by theupright and the criminal--by the true ally and treacherous outlaw--wentup from the desert sand from that group with their faces to the settingsun.
The old Syyed attached himself to their band, being readily provided, bythe people of the village, with a camel, for they had no horses, and wastreated with great deference by all--both as the uncle of the chief, andin his capacity of saint. Through the medium of Sohrab Khan, theEnglish speaking Baluchi, Campian was able to while away the monotony ofthe road in converse. He learnt much of what had befallen since hiscaptivity--of the arrest of the Sirdar, the anxiety as to his own fate,and the doings of Umar Khan, with whom his present friends seemed notaltogether out of sympathy--in fact, he decided that if it depended upontheir aid, the chances of capturing that redoubted freebooter wereinfinitesimal. Thus they fared onward, day after day, through _tangi_and over _kotal_, threading deep mountain valleys, and traversingsun-baked plains; now resting for the night at mud-walled villages, nowcamping out in the open beneath the desert stars.
The Kachin valley at last! How well he remembered its long, deepconfiguration. Now after his enforced wanderings over those grimdeserts, even its sparse foliage was like a cool and refreshing oasis.And what experiences, strange and startling, had he not known within itsnarrow limits. There, above the juniper growth rose the mass of rockwherein was the markhor cave. It seemed strange to think that the faceof that ordinarily rugged mountain side should contain what it did.
Then a misgiving seized him. What if it should contain nothing? Whatif he had been allowing his over-wrought imagination to run away withhim? The chest was there--no doubt about that, but what if it containednothing more than a lot of old parchments, or a storage of ordinarilytrumpery trinkets? Things might, in that event, take an awkward turn.But no, he would not believe it. The strength of the chain, the weightof the chest, the weird, unheard of place of its concealment, the careand labour involved in designing such a hiding place, all pointed tothis being the object of his search. And then, too, the topographicalfeatures of the surroundings were all exactly as set forth in hisfather's instructions. Every piece of the puzzle seemed to fit in to anicety.
And this chief was the son of the refugee Afghan whose life his fatherhad saved, and in the inscrutable workings of time it had come aboutthat the debt should be repaid twofold, that his own life should besaved, first by the brother, then by the son of Dost Hussain. On theeventual slaughter of the latter by the Brahuis, Yar Hussain then aninfant, had found refuge with the Marri tribe, and by dint of descent onhis mother's side, had, on reaching years of manhood, claimed and seizedthe position he now held. All this Campian learned as they travelledalong; and a very stirring--if complicated--tale of Eastern intrigue,and fierce, ruthless tribal feud it was.
A feeling of awe was upon the party as they entered the gloomy crackwhich constituted the portal of the now historic markhor cave. Upon theBaluchis the superstitious associations which clustered round the placehad their effect. The Syyed Ain Asraf was muttering copious exorcismsand adjurations from the sacred book, and the wild desert warriors wereoverawed at the thought that here was about to be unfolded that whichhad been placed there by the hands of those long since dead. Upon theEuropean, however, the associations were multifold. That firstexploration of the cave, the chance arrival of Vivien Wymer, and theirlong, quiet talk as they investigated it together all came back to him.Then the tragedy, his escape, and the hours he had spent hanging in thevery mouth of that hideous gulf--here again the hidden hoard of the deadchief had been instrumental in preserving the life of his rescuer's son,for
what would the latter have done but for the resting place affordedby the chain and that which it supported, whit time Umar Khan, with hisbloodthirsty brigands had run him literally to earth?
Taking a torch from one of the bystanders, and holding it out at arm'slength over the gulf, he said:
"Look down there, my brother, yonder is the Ruby Sword."
"I see nothing," replied Yar Hussain, who, lying flat on the brink, waspeering over. "Stay--yes. Something is hanging. It is of iron. It isa chain. You--three of you--hold your lights out over yon black openingof hell." Then as they obeyed he went on--"Yes. There it is. There isa chest--bound with brass. Of a truth the secret is at lengthrevealed."
Even the impassive reticence of the Oriental seemed to relax. There wasa note of strong excitement in the deep tones of the chief, and his eyesdilated as he beheld at last that which contained his long buriedheirloom. He gave orders that the chest should be at once drawn up.
This was not difficult. By Campian's advice they had come well providedwith strong camel-hide ropes. These were noosed, and the loops beingswung round the chest on either side of the chain--a very simple processin the strong light of many torches--were drawn tight. Then, at theword from Campian, who superintended the operation, and whose interestand excitement were hardly less than that of the chief, they hauledaway. The chest proved of less weight than they expected, and lo!--in atrice--it lay safe upon the floor of the cave.
Many and pious were the ejaculations of those who beheld. The massivechain, somewhat indented in the wood through the weight it had so longsustained, was at length filed through, and the chest borne to theentrance of the cave to be opened in full daylight.
Seen there it was indeed black and venerable with age, and the letteringon the cover so blurred that the old eyes of Ain Asraf were hardly equalto the task of deciphering it. But the impatience of those around wasdeepening every moment, and Yar Hussain with his own hands began to openthe chest.
It was secured by cunning locks, the device of which was known to him.The hinges, stiff and rusty with age and damp, at first would not turn,then yielded to a couple of hearty tugs. The while every head wascraned forward, every spectator was breathless with expectation. As aninstance of how one can persuade oneself into a belief in any theory,even now no misgiving came to Campian lest the chest should containnothing of any value.
An aromatic and pungent odour filled the air on the opening of the box.At first a layer of sheepskin vellum, then parchments. At these YarHussain merely glanced hurriedly and continued his investigations. Onebag--then another--five bags of the same soft sheepskin and carefullytied, each about the size of an orange. On opening these--lo! three ofthem contained precious stones, cut, and some of splendid size andwater. The other two were filled with uncut stones. This was beginningto look promising.
The next layer being uncovered yielded to view some magnificent personalornaments, bracelets and the like, thickly jewelled. These were liftedout, and then the third skin covering being removed, that contained bythe last and lower compartment of the chest lay revealed. Somethinglong, wrapped in several rolls of the soft wash leather. Carefully,almost reverently, Yar Hussain unfolded these and--There it lay, in thebottom of the chest, hilt and scabbard literally glowing with splendidrose red jewels, relieved by the white flash of diamonds, dazzling theeyes of the beholders with the suddenness of its glare--there it lay, inits long hidden splendour, the cherished heirloom of the refugee Duranichief--the priceless Ruby Sword.
For some moments the surrounding Baluchis stood staring in stupefiedsilence, then they broke forth in ejaculations as to the wonderful waysof Allah, and so forth. Campian, beholding the wealth thus displayed,could not but feel some sort of qualm as he remembered how he might haveconcealed his knowledge until able to turn it to his own materialaccount. It was only momentary, however, and he was the first to breakin with a practical remark.
"Hearken, Sohrab Khan," he said. "I think I have now done all that Ican do. Tell the sirdar that he and his have returned to me the servicethat my father rendered to his, have returned it twofold, and I, for mypart, am rejoiced to have been the means by which he has come into thepossession of his own. But there are those in Shalalai I would fain seeagain, and if it is all the same to him, I think"--with a glance at thesun--"we might fetch Mehriab station in time to catch the afternoontrain."
This very Western and end of the nineteenth century phrase breaking inupon such a scene of Eastern and mediaeval romanticism struck itsutterer as almost ludicrous in its incongruity.
"In truth, that is comprehensible," replied Yar Hussain, when thissuggestion was put to him--"and it shall be done. Yes, my brother, whoart now one of us, thy wishes shall be fulfilled. But now, receivethis,"--placing in his hand one of the bags of cut stones--"and choosefrom among these,"--pointing to the jewelled bracelets--"that somerecompense may be made thee for thy sufferings at the hands of ourpeople, and that the remembrance of thy brethren here may be pleasantand sweet when thou art among thine own people in the years to come."
Campian, repressing the momentary instinct which moved him to decline sosplendid a gift, made choice of one of the bracelets--not one of thebest, however. It was a splendid ornament for all that, and atightening of the heart went through him as he wondered to himself if itwould ever be worn. Then he asked if he could keep the Durani ring,which he valued more than ever.
"Surely," was the sirdar's reply. "In truth it is restored to abeliever, and hath amply fulfilled its mission."
When the train for Shalalai stopped at Mehriab station that day, the fewEuropean passengers it contained were lazily astonished by the presenceon the platform of an evidently important Baluchi sirdar, accompanied bya large retinue. Their astonishment grew to activity, however, when oneof the group, before entering a first-class carriage, took leave of themin excellent English, which was duly translated to the chief and hisfollowing by one of their number, the departure of the train beingsignalled by a perfect chorus of farewell "salaams" from those leftbehind. They were destined to be still more mightily astonished uponthe arrival of the train at the last station or two before Shalalai bythe appearance of a European, of military or official aspect, whogreeted the supposed Oriental with cordial handgrip, singing out in avoice that carried the whole length of the train:
"Devilish glad to see you back, old chap. And I've brought you yourtogs, so you'll have time to get into them as we go along. By George,though, you look no end of a real sirdar in that get-up, all the same."
And taking a Gladstone bag from the attendant bearer, he jumped in too.
The Ruby Sword: A Romance of Baluchistan Page 22
