Hussein

by Patrick O'Brian

  Hussein looked across the window at Ram Narain: the other’s face was lit with such a triumph as Hussein had never seen before on any face but that of a carved god. The old man finished speaking and then threw out his hand, palm upwards, fingers spread. The Rajah smiled and squared his shoulders, then he took the pen from the treasurer and wrote on the paper, at the bottom beneath all the writing that covered it. All the others did the same, the treasurer much against his will — he shrugged and sighed as he signed. Then three other papers were signed; two were given to the treasurer, and two to the old man. Suddenly Hussein felt his arm grasped with great force; Ram Narain jerked him to the ground. They lay flat while long minutes passed; they could no longer hear the talk, for it seemed to go out of the window and beyond them. Presently the third man of the Rajah’s party came out, carrying the lantern. He ran back in the way that he had come. Hussein heard Ram Narain grind his teeth together with a little grating noise; then he felt his breath in his ear as Ram Narain whispered, ‘Go before him with all your speed, but silently; if he orders a mahout and an elephant, see that it is yourself and Jehangir. I will tell you what to do in whatever way I can find. If he does not, return with all the haste you may, and seek me here.’

  Hussein nodded, and crept away to the tree where his clothes were. Inside the temple the talk went on.

  Eighteen

  Hussein gathered his clothes with infinite caution; when he was out of range of the voices he put them on and sped along the path back to the lodge. It was little more than a deer track, and at one place he paused, straining his eyes in the darkness to find where it lay: he felt himself trembling all over — not from the cold, for it was not cold, and warmth still came upwards from the earth. The lantern had disappeared. He felt strangely disinclined to move. As he stood, quite motionless, he knew that he could not look back over his shoulder into the darkness. For timeless seconds he stood there, sweating, so that it ran down in drops from his armpits. More and more his neck grew wooden, and his hands, half-clasped, rigid. For this strange time he stood as a stone stands; then he must have swayed on his stance, for he moved his foot involuntarily to preserve his balance. That broke the continuity of the sensation, and Hussein ran from nothing as if Kali were breathing on his neck; it hunted him until he was in sight of the lantern, and he composed himself with a fierce effort.

  Stealthily he skirted round the bobbing light through the jungle, and came again on to the path. He still ran very swiftly, but he knew himself again, and the running was but part of his plan. He came to the lodge well before the man with the lantern, and walked casually back to where Jehangir stood.

  Jehangir swung him up, and he lay a-sprawl on the elephant’s neck, thinking. He was but little given to introspection, and his essay into it caused him unhappiness. He could by no means explain to himself his extraordinary feeling at the break in his running. Ordinarily he would have dismissed it with the easy explanation of a curse, or of a devil, but somehow he knew that it was something wholly of himself. For the first time in his life he felt his own self as something to be reckoned with: ever before he had taken himself for granted. Jehangir felt the trouble of his soul, and reached up with his trunk. Hussein stroked him; he was vastly comforted, for Jehangir was so essentially material, and he was still terrified of that which he knew not at all.

  The coming of the man with the lantern broke his laboured train of thought. He slipped down as he heard the man speak to the guards, and went to where the soldiers lay. In action his thought and his deed were never consciously apart; his plans, strategy, and execution just happened because he was Hussein, and that was how he was made.

  He stumbled purposely over the legs of one of the sleeping men, kicking him hard. The soldier started up, cursing him most foully. Hussein answered him with a more vile tongue, and loudly; men awoke all about and joined in.

  Almost at once there was a great noise, and as the man with the lantern, whom Hussein recognised for the first time as the Rajah’s master of horse, came with the guards, Hussein spat in the other’s face, crying, ‘Soor! I am the mahout of the Rajah’s own elephant, a man immeasurably—’

  ‘Come here, mahout,’ said the master of horse. Hussein went to him and salaamed. The man bade him bring Jehangir round to the lodge, and commanded silence.

  Jehangir knelt; the officer mounted and pointed out the way. As they went back along the path to the temple, Hussein glanced at the place where he had stopped, but he was not moved.

  They came to the temple, and the master of horse, whose name was Mirza Shah, caused Hussein to bring Jehangir to the front of the temple, where there was a great gateway.

  ‘Stay there,’ he said, and went into the temple. After a few moments Hussein followed him to the wall of the room where the others were. He knelt and listened.

  ‘We must get rid of him while we arrange everything,’ said the treasurer.

  There followed some talk that was indistinct, then the Rajah said in a mellow, jocose voice, ‘He had better die in a quarrel to-night or to-morrow.’

  ‘It will fit,’ replied Mirza Shah, laughing.

  Footsteps came towards him, and Hussein darted back to Jehangir. Almost at once Mirza Shah came out with a note in his hand.

  ‘Run back and give this to the captain of the guard,’ he said, ‘and return straightway.’

  ‘On my head and heart,’ replied Hussein.

  He ran back a little way and then returned silently, looking about him for a sign from Ram Narain. He stood very still beneath the tree where he had left his clothes before, and he opened the note; in the darkness he could see no writing on it, so he returned it to his dhoti.

  After a little while he became aware of an uneasiness, and, turning, he found Ram Narain just behind him. The other drew him some distance from the temple before speaking. Then he said, ‘You heard what they planned for you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, now there is only one way for you, and it is that you and I shall do all that we may now. It is necessary that we obtain those papers that they signed and depart very quickly on Jehangir. There is no time left to us for anything but force. Have you a knife?’

  ‘No, but I have my ankus,’ answered Hussein, showing the heavy iron spike: he only carried it for glory, it being the mark of a mahout, but he never used it.

  ‘It will do at a pinch,’ said Ram Narain, examining it. ‘Remember to strike hard when you use it.’

  They slowly worked round to a place from where they could see Jehangir, and squatting there they finished the chupatties that Ram Narain had brought. Presently all the men came from the temple in a confused group, drawing with them the great pad-bag of gold. Jehangir was kneeling, as Hussein had told him to do, and together the men hauled and pushed the bag on to his back.

  ‘Now, 'in a few minutes’, said Ram Narain, ‘you must go back to them, running. You will be told to take Jehangir back to the lodge. Probably the Rajah will ride and the other two will walk. About half-way between here and the lodge I will leap out on Mirza Shah without any warning, and at that moment you must strike the Rajah. We can leave the treasurer until afterwards. I shall come without any warning, therefore be exceedingly alert, for we must both act at once.’

  He paused for a few moments. Hussein was conscious of the dryness of his mouth, and of the trembling of his hands. His nerves were at concert pitch.

  Ram Narain leant forward and touched Hussein. ‘I am glad you are not trembling,’ he said. ‘I could not do this great thing with a coward.’

  This heartened Hussein curiously; he said, ‘I will go now.’

  As he went down towards the place where he would come to the path, he was filled with a great complexity of feelings; he wondered vaguely whether he was afraid, but as soon as he began running back to the temple all these thoughts left him. As he came again to where Jehangir knelt he saw that the other men had gone away, and only the Rajah, the treasurer, and Mirza Shah were there. He was glad of this, because he had fea
red that the others might possibly return to the lodge with them, and thus disconcert Ram Narain’s plan, and encompass his own death. The great bag was on Jehangir’s back, and the Rajah sat, most uncomfortably, upon it; he bade Hussein return to the lodge.

  They went along with the two men riding and the other two walking, as Ram Narain had predicted. Jehangir grumbled a little in his throat at the weight, but Hussein whispered to him, bending low to his ear. As they journeyed along the dark way, Hussein looked incessantly from left to right, and grasped his ankus firmly. Suddenly the Rajah broke the silence, and said that he would walk also. Hussein could think of no means to prevent him, so he inclined his head and caused Jehangir to kneel again. He felt fearful lest this unexpected move should frustrate them, for he did not know whether Ram Narain was creeping along near-by or whether he had gone on ahead to a place from which he could leap out to the best advantage. It was worse because the Rajah walked a little behind the elephant, talking in an undertone with the treasurer, who kept darting apprehensive glances about him, and clasping his hands nervously.

  The darkness seemed to press in on them; when they entered a great mango-grove it seemed almost palpable. The Rajah called a halt, and told Mirza Shah to light the lantern. There was a light breeze, and they stood about the flame to shield it. Hussein poised himself on Jehangir’s neck so that he might easily leap down. He felt sure that Ram Narain would attack now if he were following them, and he was right. As the flame flickered something which had been a shadow sprang into life, and at that moment Hussein launched himself at the Rajah.

  In a moment all four were writhing on the ground. Hussein was on top of the Rajah, pressing his face into the earth. Ram Narain and Mirza Shah rolled over and over, grunting loudly. Hussein’s ankus had jerked out of his hand, and he was only just able to keep his man down, for the Rajah was a powerfully built man, and he threshed about like a great fish.

  For some time the treasurer stood petrified, then he screamed and ran for about twenty yards; he tripped, and lay where he fell, quite paralysed with fear.

  Hussein heard a shuddering gasp behind him, and he saw Ram Narain get up. Mirza Shah lay still. At that moment the Rajah flung up his legs and caught Hussein’s neck with his feet. There was a swift, confused writhing, and Hussein lay flat, half unconscious from a kick in the groin. The Rajah leapt away into the jungle, and Ram Narain, confused in the darkness, pinned Hussein to the ground. Hussein could hardly speak by reason of the extremity of his pain, and Ram Narain’s fingers pressed into his throat so that there was a hammering behind his eyes, and a swelling of his tongue.

  Suddenly Ram Narain sprang up with a most appalling oath; he glared round, and saw nothing, but he heard the Rajah pushing his way through the undergrowth. He hauled Hussein to his feet, where he stood, half doubled up.

  ‘Get on the elephant; we must catch him,’ he said. Hussein groaned feebly, and Ram Narain pinched his arm fiercely, so that the blood came. This fresh pain brought him to somewhat. All this time Jehangir had stood stock still, uncertain what to do. Hussein spoke to him; he knelt, and in a moment they moved rapidly towards the sound of the Rajah’s running. The wretched man concealed himself in the roots of a mangrove, but Jehangir followed his scent, and he broke away, dashing madly through the thick undergrowth. He tore through, ripping his clothes and cursing until Jehangir came up with him. Ram Narain leapt down. They swayed and stamped, locked together: Hussein could only see them vaguely. Suddenly they fell; Ram Narain twisted about so that he knelt on the Rajah’s back, then he hit him hard with the edge of his palm on the neck. They went back, carrying the prince, to where Mirza Shah lay. There they collected the treasurer, who was almost unconscious from terror.

  They searched about for the lantern, which they found under a bush; when it was lit Ram Narain went through their clothes, and in the treasurer’s belt he found the papers that he sought.

  Then they bound the men with their own turbans.

  Ram Narain pondered for some time the advisability of killing them, but he decided against it, so they left them tied in a heap with the lantern burning beside them. Hussein was still in considerable pain, but he had recovered a little. Ram Narain stood silent for a long while, thinking: they were in the middle of the native states; it would be a long journey to reach British India.

  ‘It is a great way from here to Ghondal,’ he said, ‘but we must be there before daylight; it is essential that we leave the gold there.’

  Hussein’s heart sank when he heard this; he had not had time to think that they had won a great sum, but this called it to him. He answered, speaking low and slowly, ‘I say, on my honour, that Jehangir can carry both of us and the gold to Ghondal by dawn.’

  As he spoke he extracted sixteen gold coins from the pad through a little hole, and hid them in his dhoti. He did not know how far it was to Ghondal, and Jehangir had already grumbled about the weight, but Hussein was ready to do anything in the world to get this great fortune; the thought of killing Ram Narain arose in his mind, but he repelled it. Ram Narain did not answer for some time.

  Hussein thought furiously; he was very willing indeed to share with Ram Narain, for he loved the man, but to give up the gold altogether, just as he was beginning to realise it — that was more than he could stomach, even for twenty treasonable treaties. The gold would give him Sashiya, and he loved her very dearly with a strangely constant love and a most rare affection. At one word from him Jehangir would trample Ram Narain into a mess. It would be so easy.

  Ram Narain divined Hussein’s thoughts, and he revolved in his mind the idea of killing Hussein, for he knew well how men break under the strain when money is concerned. He, too, was desirous of the hoard, but first in his mind was his safety, and the getting of the treaty into the right hands: he was not subjected to the great motive for the gaining of the money that Hussein was.

  The atmosphere was tense; both men were on edge from what they had done.

  Then Ram Narain spoke. ‘Well, we must waste no time,’ he said.

  ‘First we must arrange the pad properly,’ replied Hussein firmly, ‘or Jehangir will be galled.’ Ram Narain chafed at the delay, but he helped as well as he was able. In a little while the pad was comfortable and they went away towards the east as fast as they might.

  For a long while they travelled in silence, each enwrapt in his own thoughts. From time to time Hussein would whisper to Jehangir, who was not a little ill-tempered, because of his load. Ram Narain seemed to know the country intimately, for, although it was still dark, he would, ever and again, point the way. When the false dawn came they were in a bare bushy country; in a little time they came to a river, a small river with muddy banks.

  ‘On the other side’, said Ram Narain, ‘we shall be in Ghondal — not that we shall be much safer there.’ But when Jehangir came to the river and felt the mud, he stopped, and would not go on. Hussein turned him up the river, and they sought a dry ford.

  ‘The banks of this river are always mud banks,’ said Ram Narain lugubriously. ‘We must throw away the gold.’

  ‘It would make no difference,’ replied Hussein; ‘if he could get through the mud unladen he could do so with all this and more; moreover, he desires the water, so the mud must be very bad if he will not cross to it.’

  ‘I am very hungry,’ said Ram Narain inconsequentially. After some time they came to a place where there was mud and shingle going down to the water. Hussein slipped down, and went slowly to the edge.

  ‘It will probably be just as bad the other side,’ observed Ram Narain. Hussein did not reply. He stripped, and swam. When he was half-way over there was a swirl in the water, and a long snout appeared. His heart beat fast, and then it seemed to stop for a long time. He dived, and swam under the water, expecting the grip of teeth at every moment. The crocodile, a small, inoffensive fish-hunting gharial, swam even faster in the opposite direction. Suddenly his hands were scrabbling in the sand; he had reached the other side far sooner than he had expe
cted. Ram Narain was wrong; the other bank was grassy down to the verge. Hussein waded out, shivering. He called to Jehangir, who spread his ears, but did not move.

  ‘Walk slowly before him,’ he shouted to Ram Narain. Ram Narain leapt down, and stepped gently towards the water. Jehangir moved forward very slowly: he felt his foot sink a little in the mud. Instantly he shot out his trunk, seized Ram Narain about the waist, and threw him down to provide a firm foothold. Hussein bellowed so that his voice cracked, and he felt a sharp pain where he had been kicked. Jehangir stood still for a moment, and then scrambled backwards to the firm land. Hussein swam over again, and picked up Ram Narain, whose head had struck against a stone so that he was stunned. When he had laid him in the grass he stood before Jehangir, and reviled him most bitterly.

  ‘Pig-spawn, you have shamed me beyond all measure: my izzat is black before this honourable man. I have no further use for you at all.’

  Jehangir rumbled in his throat, shifted his feet uncomfortably, and put out his trunk to touch Hussein. Hussein slapped it hard. ‘Bahinchute!’ he shouted, ‘afraid of the slime you came from! Get across that river. Get across that piddling stream. Shame on your gross hulking belly that weighs you down! I would have bought you six gold tusk-rings. Now you shall have none, but a very great beating. Gold on a boar-pig!’

  Jehangir rolled his eyes, and grunted softly.

  ‘Afraid of a shadow! Afraid of a muddy puddle! Afraid of a little calf without tusks! Shaitan ka butcha, soorneen, get your pig’s belly across that brook. Get your bunnia’s heart to the other side. Camel! A jackal has more courage. Shuddering, stinking hulk, get in!’ He pointed at the water; Jehangir looked on the ground and moved forwards. He came to a muddy patch and scuttled, squealing, into the water. He was across in a few minutes.