CHAPTER III.
THE OLD ORDER AND THE NEW.
In little more than a week after the ball, Charteris and Gerrard hadshaken from their feet the dust of Ranjitgarh with its Occidentalinfluences, and were journeying, though westward, towards the pureunadulterated East in their respective districts. Charteris' sphere ofinfluence was reached first, a land of prevailing sand-colour withoases of almost painful green, over which the Granthi sovereignty hadnever been more than merely nominal. A Granthi army had made periodicinroads into Darwan, sweeping off all the cattle it could find, by wayof collecting the revenue, and the Darwanis retorted by incursionsacross the Granthi border, designed to assert their independence.Charteris was at the head of a strong force of Granthis, to emphasizethe fact that he represented the Ranjitgarh Durbar, not the BritishCrown nor the Company, and his duties were extensive, if simple. Hewas to bring down the oppressor and relieve the oppressed, destroy thetowers of robber chiefs and induce the occupants to turn theirunaccustomed hands to honest labour, establish order in place ofconfusion, and generally to make it known and felt that there nowexisted, and must be obeyed, a law superior to the sweet will of thestrongest.
Gerrard, passing on towards the south-west, would be faced with quite adifferent problem, in the solution of which the velvet glove would playa more important part, ostensibly at least, than the iron hand. Theprovince of Agpur formed an indisputable part of the Granthi dominions,but it was ruled by a feudatory prince, who was faithful to hisobligations during the lifetime of the great conqueror Ajit Singh,under whose banners he had often ridden to victory, but had seen hisopportunity in the feeble rule of Ajit Singh's successors. Oneconcession after another had been wrung by his diplomacy from the handsof weakling or child, the right to raise troops in his own name, tofortify the city of Agpur, and--though this was still contested bycertain Ranjitgarh stalwarts--the power of nominating his successorinstead of merely recommending his eldest son to the favour of hissuzerain. Only a very few steps, a distance that might be bridged by asingle resolute advance, had separated Partab Singh from the dignity ofa full-blown independent prince, when the nerveless hands of theRanjitgarh ruler were suddenly reinforced by the strong grasp of aBritish Resident upon the reins. For a short time it was doubtfulwhether the stiff-necked old Rajah would not put his fate to the touch,and come to death-grips with British power acting in the name of theDurbar, but wiser counsels prevailed. Partab Singh paid his tribute,with no more deduction than could be accounted for by the ever-readyplea of a bad harvest, and gave no excuse for marching troops into histerritory. But he would not swell the triumph of the upstart Durbar byshowing himself at Ranjitgarh, nor would he lower his dignity by makingany response to Colonel Antony's overtures. He remained inself-imposed seclusion within the borders of his province, decliningeither to move or to be moved in anything relating to the welfare ofhis subjects.
Agpur, then, was the scene of Gerrard's future labours. For his ownsake, Partab Singh would have done well to pay up his tribute in full,and not plume himself on the slight saving effected in the name of thebad harvest, for the plea afforded an opening for extending theinfluence of the central government. Colonel Antony sent word that hewas despatching one of his most trusted officers to examine the systemof irrigation pursued in the province, and to offer the Rajah anyadvice his experience might suggest that would tend to mitigate thesuffering and loss consequent on bad seasons. Following his usualtactics, Partab Singh returned no answer to the communication, andGerrard was therefore proceeding under orders which left him with acurious combination of strict instructions and wide discretion. He wasto observe many other things besides the irrigation system in thecourse of his journeys--Partab Singh's military dispositions, theattitude of the people towards him, and also towards Ranjitgarh and theBritish, and the amount of union or disunion visible between theMohammedan and Granthi elements in the population. If possible, he wasto obtain supplies in the usual way from the village headmen as hepassed, but should they be withheld, he was to make arrangements to besupplied from Darwan, rather than be forced to an ignominious retreat.The city of Agpur he was not to enter without an express invitationfrom its ruler, nor in any way to force himself upon his attention; butshould accident, or any faint glimmerings of a conciliatory spirit onthe part of Partab Singh, bring them together, he was to leave no meansuntried to win the Rajah's friendship. The probabilities were that theold ruler would either continue in his attitude of sullen withdrawal,or advertise his intention of maintaining the integrity of hisdominions by wiping out the intruders, but that could not be helped.Gerrard took his life in his hand, and no one thought very much of therisk. Colonel Antony had a way of casting forth his subordinates intotroubled waters, to sink or swim as best they might, and being pickedmen after his own heart, they had a way of returning triumphant,bringing with them treasures snatched from the deep.
It pleased Charteris to emphasize the dark side of the case as he andGerrard shook hands and parted, half a day's journey beyond the spotfixed upon for the scene of the former's first steps in the art ofgovernment.
"There's something jolly dramatic about all your chances depending onme," he said. "I might hold back your reports, or send on forged onesinstead, or ruin you in about a hundred different ways." All Gerrard'scommunications with Ranjitgarh were to pass through Darwan, lest PartabSingh should intercept them on the shorter route. "When I am inclinedto feel hipped, I shall spend a happy hour or so in devisinguncomfortableness for you, my boy."
"And how you would enjoy explaining to Miss Cinnamond the way in whichyou had eliminated your hated rival!" said Gerrard.
"Well, why not? All the old fellows in the Ages of Chivalry, that shetalks of, did that sort of thing all day long, so why should she blamein a poor beggar of a Bengali what she would pass over in a baron bold?"
"Her age of chivalry is about as near the truth as the idyllic picturesof blameless Hindus that they hold up in Parliament, I fancy. Well,Bob, we can't say you haven't told me what to expect. If I do callupon you for help, you'll know it's a mere matter of form."
"Of course. It's quite impossible that I should get to you in time,you realise that? But I'll tell you what I will do for you, with thegreatest pleasure. When you are safely dead, I'll avenge you in style.The smoking ruins of Agpur shall be your funeral pyre, as the oldfellow said to the Dey of Algiers."
"Most consoling to me. Well, good-bye, Bob!"
"Good-bye, Hal, and good luck to you!" and they rode upon theirseparate ways.
For a time Gerrard's progress through Agpur territory was uneventful.It was not necessary to obtain provisions from Darwan, for they wereforthcoming from the country traversed, though with accompaniments ofvexatious delay and unfulfilled promises that showed the headmen had nofear of being taken to task for not making the traveller's way easy.The Granthi escort required ruling with a rod of iron, for they wereprone, after their usual fashion, to prey upon the people, and it wasno part of Colonel Antony's plan to provide Partab Singh with acolourable grievance. A few severe examples were necessary before thehalf-trained troopers realised that their new commander was in earnest,but when once the idea had been fixed in their minds that to seize theproperty of even the poorest cultivator without payment meant dismissalin disgrace, they began to take a pride in his very severity.
As for the people of the country, they regarded this new-fangledbehaviour with suspicion at first, as probably a cloak for deeperdesigns of plunder on the part of Gerrard himself, but learnedgradually to regard him as well-meaning, though certainly mad. Hereand there a farmer or headman would open his heart to him, letting inlight on many dark places in Partab Singh's administration, while fromthe elders who gathered round his tent-door at night when he wasencamped near a village he learned what was the popular estimate of theruler himself. One story was told with bated breath again and again,establishing Partab Singh's character in the minds of his people as aman of the nicest honour. A few years before, the Rajah
had slain withhis own hand every woman and girl in his zenana, as the result of somediscovery, the nature of which no one durst even conjecture, and hadsince brought home to his blood-stained halls a young bride of purestRajput descent from beyond Nanakpur, who had borne him a son, commonlyreported to be the apple of his eye. There had been an elder son, butno one knew whether he was alive or dead, though a gruesome tale waswhispered of his father's having ordered his eyes to be torn out. Afaithful foster-brother was said to have sacrificed himself to savehim, and to have died in the prison after his eyes had been dulyexhibited to the Rajah as those of his son, while the prince made hisescape in the servant's clothes, but the truth of this was not vouchedfor. Altogether, life seemed to be rather lightly regarded in theAgpur royal family, though Gerrard gathered that Partab Singh was heldby connoisseurs to have failed to vindicate to the utmost his insultedhonour. If the occasion were grave enough to warrant the massacre ofevery living thing in the zenana, it called also for the death of theavenger by his own hand as a finishing touch, but it was universallyallowed that this could hardly be expected in the case of a man who hadleft himself no heir. Much was said also as to Partab Singh's lavishtreatment of his soldiers and his presumable intention in trainingthem, his encouragement of merchants and crusade against largelandholders, who were either persecuted out of existence or compelledto reside in Agpur under his own eye, and the fortune he was heaping upfor his one precious son. Thus the voluminous reports forwarded toDarwan for transmission to Ranjitgarh were by no means deficient eitherin detail or interest.
In the natural course of his leisurely progress, equally unhasting andunresting, Gerrard was now approaching the neighbourhood of the city ofAgpur, not without experiencing an occasional constricted feeling abouthis throat, as though he was walking into a trap the entrance intowhich had obligingly been made easy for him. He was surprised to findthat he was entering upon a scene of desolation. The half-ripe harvesthad been roughly reaped in part, but was elsewhere trampled down, andthe villages were deserted by their inhabitants; or if by chance a manor two were seen, they fled with the utmost speed. It seemed as if anarmy had been passing through the country, and presumably it was PartabSingh's own army, since no one was known to be invading him. But whyshould he be moving his army about at this particular season, and inthe absence of any outside enemy? That the answer to this questionmight prove to have an unpleasant effect upon his own fortunes Gerrardwas aware, and his thoughts were not altogether agreeable as he sat inhis tent during the heat of the day. It seemed prudent to put hispapers in order--perhaps to destroy one or two which might be liable tomisinterpretation in unfriendly hands, and this he was proceeding to dowhen an orderly came to say that a local Sirdar and his son, who hadbecome separated from their attendants in a hunting expedition, askedif they might take shelter in the Sahib's camp until the sun was alittle cooler. The idea of a hunting expedition was strange in thedesolate state of; the district, but Gerrard hoped to gain someinformation from the strangers, and ordered that they should be broughtto his tent. As he rose to go forward and welcome them, a lowvoice--that of the _munshi_ sitting on the ground at his side--arrestedhim.
"Sahib, I cannot be sure, but I think that old man is the Rajah PartabSingh, whom I have seen once at Nanakpur. Do not betray that yoususpect him, but look at the mark of the _kalgi_ on the turbans of thetwo."
The words were so quickly spoken that Gerrard's pause was barelyperceptible, and he went out to meet the newcomers without hesitation.They were an elderly bearded man and a boy of five or six, dressed inordinary country stuffs, but on the turbans of both there wasdistinguishable to one who looked for it a slight discoloration, asthough an aigrette or other token of distinction had recently beenremoved, and their horses were very fine. Gerrard welcomed themcourteously, and the old man introduced himself as Sirdar Hari Ram, andthe boy as his grandson, Narayan Lal. A carpet was already spread inGerrard's tent, and he motioned them to it, while he gave an order ortwo respecting refreshments, and other things. The hookah kept foroccasions of this sort was brought in, and Gerrard took a whiffhimself, then passed the mouthpiece to his guests, but it was politelyrefused, with a sanctimonious glance at the servants. The boy soontired of sitting still, and began to investigate the tent, attracted bythe European furniture and weapons. In response to his inquiries,Gerrard exhibited and explained his watch, his tin despatch-box, (whicharoused disappointment as not being filled with treasure,) and hisColt's revolver, at that time a surprising novelty. The old man was asfascinated with it as the child, and remarked gloomily that it was nowonder the English had so much power, when one of them could carry sixmen's lives in his hand. He seemed inclined to talk, so Gerrard lookedout an illustrated paper which had lately reached him from home, andopened it for the boy at the picture of the opening of a new railway bythe Queen and Prince Albert.
"Sit down here, little one, and look at this," he said kindly.
The child drew himself up with great dignity. "I am a prince, and Isit at no man's feet save my father's, O bearer of many deaths."
Here was a confirmation of the Munshi's suspicions, and Gerrard couldnot forbear a glance at the old man to see how he took it. But nodiscomfiture was visible.
"The women spoil him and puff him up. But 'tis a fine spirit!" saidthe Sirdar, beaming even while he made the sign to avert the evil eye."Nevertheless, delight of my heart, sit thou at the foot of the Sahib,for verily that is where all Granthistan must now sit."
The boy obeyed, and the old man took his turn at putting questions.Many of them were trivial enough, but Gerrard soon became consciousthat there was something behind, that attempts were continually beingmade to entrap him. The inexhaustible theme of the relations betweenthe Crown and the Company was freely discussed without seeming tobecome much clearer to the Sirdar, and Gerrard realised by degrees thathis guest was seeking for a weak point, a jealousy between the twogoverning bodies, or between two rulers, such as a bold diplomatistmight exploit to his own advantage. His answers must therefore beguarded, and yet apparently frank, lest the old man should read intothem what he desired, and it seemed that the inquirer had been baffledsuccessfully when he flew off at a tangent to Colonel Antony and hisadministration.
"We hear strange things of the Ranjitgarh Durbar," he remarkedsarcastically, "how the due compliments are always offered, and any manmay lift up his voice and be heard with mildness--the wretch who was aslave but yesterday as readily as a prince of the house of Ajit Singh."
"It is true," said Gerrard. "Our religion bids us be courteous to allmen, and the Resident follows its precepts."
The old man smiled unpleasantly. "This Antni Sahib--he is one to bewondered at, is he not? Men say that when certain would have had theEnglish take possession of Granthistan for themselves, he withstoodthem." A meaning pause. "And they say also that when any Englishmanwould override the rights of a Granthi, be he Sirdar or peasant, AntniSahib is on the side of the Granthi."
"Quite true," said Gerrard again.
The Sirdar bent towards him. "Then, since he betrays his own mastersthus, from whom does he look for reward?" he asked triumphantly.
"The Resident desires no reward but the gratitude of the Granthis, ifthat may be had, Sirdar Sahib."
"And the gratitude of the Granthis is to place him on the _gaddi_ asKing of Granthistan?" The old man's self-satisfaction was so evidentas he displayed his acumen in detecting this deep-laid plot thatGerrard almost laughed in his face.
"Nay, Sirdar Sahib, he trusts to see young Lena Singh on his father'sthrone, ruling as an upright king, when he himself has returned an oldman to England. But excuse me a moment."
The Eurasian apothecary, the only man in the camp who could speakEnglish, had entered deprecatingly, with a visage of alarm. Gerrardspoke sharply.
"Don't look so frightened, Mr Moraes. What is it?"
"Zere are soldiers approaching, sar--a whole armee. What is to bedone?"
"Bid Sirdar Badan Hazari s
end the men to their posts, and challenge thestrangers before they get within musket-shot." He turned again to theold man. "You think that Colonel Antony might wish to make himselfKing of Granthistan, but which of all the English has ever done such athing?"
"Nay, but they conquered for their masters. This man who resists hismasters must surely have some advantage for himself in view?"
"Sahib!" It was the little boy who spoke eagerly before Gerrard couldanswer; "who are these men with guns and swords, and why do they comebefore the tent?"
Gerrard cast a careless glance at his twelve troopers, noticing thatthe old Sirdar did not move a muscle. "They are to protect my guests,little prince," he answered.
"But why are their guns pointed this way?"
"That my guests may see them, and know themselves safe."
"Your guests are much indebted to your thoughtfulness, sahib," said theold man, with something of mockery in his tone. Gerrard would havegiven much to know what was passing behind those inscrutable eyes. Wasthat long curved dagger, with the handle of which the Sirdar's fingerswere continually playing, destined to be sheathed in his heart at themoment that an attack was made upon the camp from without? It almostlooked like it, and yet why had the old man given such a hostage tofortune as the child he had brought with him? To prevent a flagging inthe conversation, which might have been attributed to nervousness,Gerrard brought out his sketch-book, and requested the honour of takingthe portraits of Sirdar Hari Ram and his grandson. The request wasgranted, but before the water for which he called had been broughtMoraes appeared again.
"Ze strange officer desire to see you, sar. He say he Rajah PartabSingh's _Komadan_." [1]
"Tell him to send a message, since I am engaged with guests."
"He say you must give up zose persons, sar. Old man and leetle boy, hecome to look for zem."
"Then tell him to come and take them. And you can promise him in myname a pretty tough job if he does." He turned from Moraes with nobledisdain, and bestowed a reassuring smile upon his guests.
"Sahib," said the old man, "the wise lingers not where his presence isan inconvenience. The youth who has just left us appeared to desireour departure."
"His desires are of no moment, Sirdar Sahib, even were he so unmannerlyas to express them."
"But it is the part of a churl to bring danger upon a host, sahib, andI have many enemies. Is it possible that there are those without whodemand that I should be yielded up to them?"
"Since you ask, it is so, but you need have no fear that I shallcomply," said Gerrard, more puzzled than ever.
"Nay, sahib, but I myself will depart with the child, so that neitheryour honour nor your safety will be menaced."
"You will do nothing of the kind, Sirdar Sahib. What! shall I suffer aguest to step from my very carpet into the hands of his foes? Youwould cover me with disgrace from the mountains to the sea."
"I will not bring trouble upon you, sahib. Suffer us to go."
"Certainly not. I will rather use violence to keep you. A word tothese men of mine----"
The veins on the old man's forehead swelled, and his eyes flamed. "Bythe Guru! if the slaves of Lena Singh and the English dare to lay afinger on me----!" he cried. "Foolish young man, will you keep me frommy own troops? I am the Rajah Partab Singh."
Gerrald stepped back with a bow. "Maharaj-ji, you are free to depart.I had not thought that the man whom I welcomed to my tent designed topick a quarrel with me. Depart freely, and your son with you, but bearme witness that I did not fail in hospitality."
"Nor shall you find Partab Singh deficient in hospitality, O son ofnoble parents!" cried the old man, softening suddenly. "Know this, myfriend. I designed to put you to a test, to prove your courtesy, yourcourage, your good faith, that I might see whether the English wereindeed to be trusted. Well has Antni Sahib done in sending one likeyou, since he could not come himself!"
[1] Commandant.
The Path to Honour Page 3
