Complete Works of Talbot Mundy

by Talbot Mundy

  Have you ever been tackled, tripped and hog-tied by women? Run rather than risk it!

  They threw a rope over my shoulders from behind, and I felt the foot of one termagant in the small of my back as she hauled taut. I spun round and stepped forward to slacken the noose and free myself, and two more nooses went over my head in swift succession. Another caught my right foot — another my right hand! More women came, with more ropes. It was only a matter of seconds before they were almost dragging me asunder as they hauled, two hags to a rope, and every one of them straining as if the game were tug-of-war.

  There was nothing else to do, and plenty of inducement, so I did it. I yelled. I sent my voice bellowing through those echoing halls to such tune that if King were anywhere in the place he would have to hear me. But it did me no good. They only produced a gag and added that to my discomfort, shoving a great lump of rubber in my mouth and wrapping a towel over it so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

  Then came Yasmini, gorgeously amused, standing at the top of the steps where the inner hall was raised a few feet above the outer, and ordering me blindfolded as well as rendered dumb.

  “For if he can see as well as he can roar he will presently know too much,” she explained sarcastically.

  So they wrapped another towel over my eyes and pinned it with a cursed export safety-pin that pierced clean through my scalp. And the harder I struggled, the tighter they pulled on the ropes and the louder Yasmini laughed, until I might as well have been on that rack that King and I saw in the cavern underneath the temple.

  “So strong Ganesha-ji!” she mocked. “So strong and yet so impotent! Such muscles! Look at them! Can the buffalo hear, or are his ears stopped too?”

  A woman rearranged the head-towel to make sure that my ears were missing nothing; after which Yasmini purred her pleasantest.

  “O buffalo Ganesha, I would have you whipped to death if I thought that would not anger Athelstan! What do you mistake me for? Me, who have been twice a queen! That was a mighty jump from my window; and even as the buffalo you swam, Ganesha! Buffalo, buffalo! Who but a buffalo would snatch my Athelstan away from me, and then return alone! What have you done with him? Hah! You would like to answer that you have done nothing with him — buffalo, buffalo! He would never have left you willingly, nor you him — you two companions who share one foolish little bag between you!

  “Does he love you? Hope, Ganesha! Hope that he loves you! For unless he comes to find you, Ganesha, all the horrors that you saw last night, and all the deaths, and all the tortures shall be yours — with alligators at last to abolish the last traces of you! Do you like snakes, Ganesha? Do you like a madhouse in the dark? I think not. Therefore, Ganesha, you shall be left to yourself to think a little while. Think keenly! Invent a means of finding Athelstan and I will let you go free for his sake. But — fail — to think — of a successful plan — Ganesha — and you shall suffer in every atom of your big body! Bass! Take him away!”

  I was frog-marched, and flung face-downward on to cushions, after which I heard a door snap shut and had leisure to work myself free from the ropes and gag and towels. It took time, for the hussies had drawn the cords until they bit into the muscles, and maybe I was twenty minutes about getting loose. Then, for ten minutes more I sat and chafed the rope-cuts, craving food, examining the room, and wishing above all things that conscience would let me fall asleep on the feathery, scented pillows with which the floor was strewn, rather than stay awake on the off-chance of discovering where King might be.

  It was practically a bare room, having walls of painted wood that sounded solid when I made the circuit of the floor and tapped each panel in turn. But that proved nothing, for even the door sounded equally solid; the folk who built that palace used solid timber, not veneer, and as I found out afterward the door was nearly a foot thick. On the floor I could make no impression whatever by thumping, and there was no furniture except the pillows — nothing that I could use for a weapon.

  But there were the cotton ropes with which they had bound me, and before doing anything else I knotted them all into one. I had no particular reason for doing that beyond the general principle that one long rope is usually better than a half-a-dozen short ones in most emergencies.

  There was only one window, and that was perhaps two feet high, big enough, that is, to scramble through, but practically inaccessible, and barred. The only weapon I had was that infernal brass safety-pin that had held the towel to my scalp, and I stuck that away in my clothes like a magpie hiding things on general principles.

  I began to wonder whether it would not be wisest after all to lie down and sleep. But I was too hungry to sleep, and it was recognition of that fact which produced the right idea.

  Beyond doubt Yasmini realized that I was hungry. She had threatened me with tortures, and was likely to inflict them if she should think that necessary; but nothing seemed more unlikely than that she would keep me for the present without food and water. It would be bad strategy, to say the least of it. She had admitted that she did not want to offend King.

  The more I considered that, the more worth while it seemed to bet on it; and as I had nothing to bet with except will power and personal convenience, I plunged with both and determined to stay awake as long as human endurance could hold out.

  There was only one way that food could possibly be brought into the room, and that was through the massive teak-wood door. It was in the middle of the wall, and opened inward; there were no bolts on the inside. Anybody opening it cautiously would be able to see instantly all down the length of half that wall, and possibly two thirds of the room as well.

  It would have been hardly practical to stand against the door and hit at the first head that showed, for then if the door should open suddenly, it would strike me and give the alarm. There was nothing else for it but to stand well back against the wall on the side of the door on which the hinges were; and as that would make the range too long for quick action I had to invent some other means of dealing with the owner of the first head than jumping in and punching it.

  There was nothing whatever to contrive a trap with but the cotton rope and the safety-pin, but the safety-pin like Mohammed’s Allah, “made all things possible.” I stuck that safety-pin in the woodwork and hung the noose in such position that the least jerk would bring it down over an intruding head — practised the stunt for ten or fifteen minutes, and then got well back against the wall with the end of the line in hand, and waited.

  I have read Izaak Walton, and continue unconvinced. I still class fishing and golf together with tiddledywinks, and eschew all three as thoughtfully as I avoid bazaars and “crushes” given by the ladies of both sexes. The rest of that performance was too much like fishing with a worm to suit my temperament, and although I caught more in the end than I ever took with rod and line, the next half-hour was boredom pure and simple, multiplied to the point of torture by intense yearning for sleep.

  But patience sometimes is rewarded. I very nearly was asleep when the sound of a bolt being drawn on the far side of the door brought every sense to the alert with that stinging feeling that means blood spurting through your veins after a spell of lethargy. The bolt was a long time drawing, as if some one were afraid of making too much noise, and I had plenty of time to make sure that my trap was in working order.

  And when the door opened gingerly at last, a head inserted itself, my noose fell, and I hauled taut, I don’t know which was most surprised — myself or the Gray Mahatma! I jerked the noose so tight that he could not breathe, let alone argue the point. I reckon I nearly hanged him, for his neck jammed against the door, and I did not dare let go for fear he might withdraw himself and collapse on the wrong side. I wanted him inside, and in a hurry.

  He was about two-thirds unconscious when I seized him by his one long lock of hair and hauled him in, shutting the door again and leaning my weight against it, while I pried the noose free to save him from sure death. Those cotton ropes don’t render the way a h
emp one would. And while I was doing that a sickening, utterly unexpected sound announced that somebody outside the door had cautiously shot the bolt again! The Mahatma and I were both prisoners!

  I sat the old fellow down on a cushion in a corner and chafed his neck until the blood performed its normal office of revivifying him. And as he slowly opened first one eye and then the other, instead of cursing me as I expected, he actually smiled.

  “The quality of your mercy was rather too well strained,” he said in English, “but I thank you for the offer nevertheless!”

  “Offer?” I answered. “What offer have I made you?”

  “A very friendly offer. But the penalty of being in the secret of our sciences is that we may not die, except in the service of the cause. Therefore, my friend, your goodwill fell on barren ground, for if you had succeeded in killing me my obligation would have been held to pass to you, and you would have suffered terribly.”

  “Who locked the door on us just now?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know,” he answered, smiling whimsically.

  “Very well,” I said, “suppose you work one of your miracles! You and King disappeared a while ago simply perfectly from right alongside me. Can you repeat the process here and spirit me away?”

  He shook his head.

  “My friend, if your eyes had not been fixed on things unworthy of consideration such as an elephant’s rump and the theft of sugar-cane, you would have seen us go.”

  “How did you persuade King to leave me standing there without a word of warning?” I demanded.

  “How were you persuaded into this place?” he retorted.

  “You mean you gagged and bound him?”

  He smiled again.

  “Your friend was weak from having so nearly been drowned; nevertheless, you overestimate my powers!”

  “When I first met you, you gripped my hand,” I answered. “I am reckoned a strong man, yet I could not shift your hand a fraction of an inch. Now you suggest that you are weaker than a half-drowned man. I don’t understand you.”

  “Of course you don’t. That is because you don’t understand the form of energy that I used on the first occasion. Unfortunately I can only use it when arrangements have been made in advance. It is as mechanical as your watch, only a different kind of mechanics — something, in fact, that some of your Western scientists would say has not yet been invented.”

  “Well, where’s King?” I asked him.

  “Upstairs. He asked me to bring you. Now how can I?”

  He smiled again with that peculiar whimsical helplessness that contrasted so strangely with his former arrogance. He who had looked like a lion when we first encountered him seemed now to be a meek and rather weak old man — much weaker in fact than could be accounted for by the red ring that my noose had made on his neck.

  “Is King at liberty?” I demanded.

  “And what do you call liberty?” he asked me blandly, as if he were really curious to know my opinion on that subject.

  “Can he come and go without molestation?”

  “If he cares to run that risk, and is not caught. Try not to become impatient with me! Anger is impotence! Explanations that do not explain are part and parcel of all religions and most sciences; therefore why lose your temper? Your friend is free to come and go, but must take his chance of being caught. He pursues investigations.”

  “Where?”

  “Where else than in this palace? Listen!”

  Among all the phenomena of nature there is none more difficult to explain than sound. Hitherto in that teak-lined room we had seemed shut off from the rest of the world completely, for the door and walls were so thick and the floor so solid that sound-waves seemed unable to penetrate. Yet now a noise rather like sandpaper being chafed together began to assert itself so distinctly as to seem almost to have its origin in the room. In a way it resembled the forest noise when a breeze stirs the tree-tops at night — irregular enough, and yet with a kind of pulse in it, increasing and decreasing.

  “You recognize that?” asked the Mahatma.

  I shook my head.

  “Veiled women, walking!”

  “You mean the princesses have come?”

  “A few, and their attendants.”

  “How many princesses?”

  “Oh, not more than twenty. But each will bring at the least twenty attendants, and perhaps a score of friends, each of whom in turn will have her own attendants. And only the princesses and their friends will enter the audience hall, which, however, will be surrounded by the attendants, whose business it will be to see that no stranger, and above all no male shall see or overhear.”

  “And if they were to catch Athelstan King up there?”

  “That would be his last and least pleasant experience in this world!”

  That was easy enough to believe. I had just had an experience of what those palace women could do.

  “She, who learned our secrets, will take care that none shall play that trick on her,” the Mahatma went on confidently. “These women will use the audience hall she lent to us. Their plan is to control the new movement in India, and their strength consists in secrecy. They will take all precautions.”

  “Do you mean to tell me,” I demanded, “that as you sit here now you are impotent? Can’t you work any of your tricks?”

  “Those are not tricks, my friend, they are sciences. Can your Western scientists perform to order without their right environment and preparations?”

  “Then you can’t break that door down, or turn loose any magnetic force?”

  “You speak like a superstitious fool,” he retorted calmly. “The answer is no.”

  “That,” said I, “is all that I was driving at. Do you see this?” And I held my right fist sufficiently close to his nose to call urgent attention to it. “Tell me just what transpired between you and King from the time when you disappeared out there in the courtyard until you came in here alone!”

  “No beating in the world could make me say a word,” he answered calmly. “You would only feel horribly ashamed.”

  I believed him, and sat still, he looking at me in a sort of way in which a connoisseur studies a picture with his eyelids a little lowered.

  “Nevertheless,” he went on presently, “I observe that I have misjudged you in some respects. You are a man of violent temper, which is cave-man foolishness; yet you have prevailing judgment, which is the beginning of civilization. There is no reason why I should not tell you what you desire to know, even though it will do you no good.”

  “I listen,” I answered, trying to achieve that air of humility with which chelas listen to their gurus.

  That was partly because I really respected the man in a way; and partly because there was small harm in flattering him a little, if that could induce him to tell me the more.

  “Know then,” he began, “that it was my fault that the Princess Yasmini was able to play that trick on us. It was to me that she first made the proposal that we should use her audience hall for our conference. It was I who conveyed that proposal to those whom it concerned, and I who persuaded them. It was through my lack of diligence that the hiding-place was overlooked in which she and certain of her women lay concealed, so that they overheard some of our secrets.

  “For that I should have been condemned to death at once, and it would have been better if that had been done.

  “Yet for fifty years I have been a man of honor. And although it is one of our chief requirements that we lay aside such foolishness as sentiment, nevertheless the seeds of sentiment remained, and those men were loath to enforce the penalty on me, who had taught so many of them.

  “So they compromised, which is inevitably fatal. For compromise bears within itself the roots of right and wrong, so that whatever good may come of it must nevertheless be ruined by inherent evil. I bade them use me for their studies, and have done with compromise, but being at fault my authority was gone, so they had their way.

  “They imposed on me
the task of making use of the Princess Yasmini, and of employing her by some means to make a beginning of the liberation of India. And she sought to make use of me to get Athelstan King into her clutches. Moreover, believing that her influence over us was now too great to be resisted, she demanded that Athelstan King and yourself should be shown sciences; and I consented, believing that thereby your friend might be convinced, and would agree to go to the United States to shape public opinion.

  “Thereafter you know what happened. You know also that, because the seeds of compromise were inherent in the plan, my purpose failed. Instead of consenting to go to the United States Athelstan King insisted on learning our sciences. You and he escaped, by a dive from the upper window of this palace that would not have disgraced two fish-hawks, and although you never guessed it, by that dive you sentenced me to death.

  “For I had to report your escape to those whom it most concerned. And at once it was obvious to them that you were certain to tell what you had seen.

  “Nevertheless, there was one chance remaining that you might both be drowned; and one chance that you might be recaptured before you could tell any one what you had seen. And there was a third chance that, if you should be recaptured, you might be persuaded to promise never to reveal what little of our secrets you already know. In that case, your lives might be spared, although not mine.

  “So it was laid upon me to discover where you were, and to bring you back if possible. And on the polished table in that cave in which you saw Benares and Bombay and London and New York, I watched you swim down the river until you were rescued by the elephants.

  “So then I went to meet you and bring you back.”

  “What if we had refused?”

  “That elephant you rode — hah! One word from me, and the mob would have blamed you for the damage. They would have pulled you from the elephant and beaten you to death. Such processes are very simple to any one who understands mob-passions. Just a word — just a hint — and the rest is inevitable.”