by Talbot Mundy
“But the Ranee, you think, will — —”
“Allah! Think? I know, Bahadur! She will talk of attacking the Amir, but she will never fire the first shot. She will keep us bottled up in this place, doing nothing, until the Amir comes and corks us in! Harriet Dover will keep on preaching we have no artillery and after we are corked in, leaving the Amir free to plunder India, Harriet Dover doubtless will seek to escape and become the Amir’s evil genius. Umm Kulsum is her true name! Yet if you and I should slay the Bibi Harriet, our Ranee would turn her back on us — because she loves her friends and is loyal to them even though they betray her. She would not command us to be slain — since are we not also her friends? But neither would she forgive us, because thou and I are not liars who would pretend to repent for a deed we had done in good faith. So we gain nothing if we slay the Bibi Harriet. How shall we save our Ranee?
By God, Gup Bahadur, I believe the answer is, we die with her! A man dies once. What of it?”
“Will you back me if I take the law into my hands,” said Gup, “and force her to save herself and India and all of us? Will you trust me to try?”
“By God and by my father’s beard, I chose you, praying to Allah three times daily lest I make a wrong choice. Shall I then not trust you? Speak your will, Bahadur. I obey.”
“All right, Rahman. We agree to trust each other. Do your orders go with the guards at the cavern entrance? And with the Ranee’s guards? Very well — make sure then that I can leave the caverns to-night without question. Don’t say a word to Jonesey; I will take him with me. How many personal guards have I? Twelve? Pick me twelve more and swear them in; tell them to report to me. I want one Russian; the one will do who made the poison-gas. Arrest all the other Russians suddenly and silently. Lock them up where nobody can get to them. Turn the poison-maker over to my guards and tell them to keep out of sight until we march to-night. I’ll need that black stallion, pack-mules, three or four days’ provisions, two extra tents and blankets — and of course I’ll take my cook and kettle-boy. Then take care that when I go to Miss Dover’s apartment after dark to-night the Ranee’s guard will let me pass. Will you attend to all that?”
“Insh’allah. And its meaning?”
“I was hunted and caught, to command this army, Rahman. I am going to do my job, that’s all. I’m going to depend on your promise to trust me. And I will tell you my plan in detail first — before I trust any one else with it — but not yet.”
“It would seem, Bahadur, that you make a poor start at trusting me.”
“Not at all. I make a good beginning. If you knew my plan you would be trying to fill in details. Your own genius would be hampered. I would rather leave you free to act on your own judgment in an emergency. Now — when is the swearing in?”
“To-morrow midnight — full moon in the Valley of Doab.”
“Be there and bring all the men, except of course the few details needed to guard the caverns. Count on me to be there, too, no matter what you may hear in the meanwhile.”
“Very well, Bahadur.”
“Send Pepul Das to Miss Harriet Dover. Let him say he hates me — let him say, if he likes, that I kicked him. If she gives him a message for Jonesey or the Russians, let him report to you, and you report to me. Whatever you do, let Jonesey think I trust him. And send Jonesey to me in my room before dinner. Meanwhile, Rahman, I am proud to share this difficulty with you. Shake hands.”
Who breaks no vows makes martyr of himself
More stupid than the heathen in his hut
Who worships little godlets on a shelf,
Their idiot maws open and their blind eyes shut.
The inward essence of the spoken vow denies
That Growth is Law and there is seed beneath all sod.
To-day’s accepted slogans are to-morrow’s lies.
The maker of inviolable vows is God.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Gup — what do you mean?”
THERE was almost no twilight; darkness, in that deep ravine, came suddenly. The sun vanished beyond the ragged rim and, almost at once, pale stars appeared in a sky that was still day-blue. Fire after fire was lighted in cavern-mouths, accentuating gloom; there were fires three thousand feet above where Gup left Rahman standing. A thunder of drum-beats — substitute for bugles — announced roll-call before supper, and a sudden blaze of light showed in the Ranee’s windows.
He strode to his quarters, two of his body-guard tramping along behind him. They were marvelously personal. Between splutterings, as they sluiced him down and scrubbed him with hot, and then cold water in his private cavern, he gave them precisely worded orders, noticing their enjoyment of the imposed secrecy — no oath, just orders to tell no one. That, too, was personal. Not trust, but suggested mistrust is what corrupts fidelity; if you know how to trust a Hillman, you may safely do it.
He was shaved, dressed and smoking, sprawling on a cot and waiting for the Ranee’s dinner hour, when Rahman came in haste.
“Pepul Das has seen Harriet Dover. She is like a leopard in a cage — first lying down, then standing, then sitting, then pacing the floor. And she believed his story, or so it seems, for she told him to say to Jonesey that he knows what to do, and that the Russians know also.”
“All right, Rahman. Where’s Jonesey?”
“He is on his way here.”
Rahman went and Jonesey came, as usual leaning on his long staff and looking rather comically pious.
“Jonesey, I want you to take charge of my belongings and show me a place to camp where I can get some solitude. I will tell you why later. Be ready to start after dinner, and meanwhile, kindly hold your tongue. Two of my guards will wait with you — they know where.”
He gave Jonesey no time to ask questions, but went then, in raiment such as a Ranee’s general ought to wear on state occasions, to the throne-room where the Ranee kept him waiting for several minutes. The commander of her body-guard, the treasurer, the doctor and a dozen other executives gathered around him, all of them excited because they had seen him reviewing the troops and knew he had been assuring himself that all was ready for an instant move, but he managed to parry their questions until most of the Ranee’s ladies entered. He was afraid then that there was going to be a banquet, which would have ruined his plan, but simultaneously there came a summons for himself to the silver-peacock room, and to all the others to a dinner elsewhere, “where her Highness will join you afterward.” The servants vanished. Gup admitted himself into the Ranee’s presence.
“Well,” she asked, “what do you think of my men?”
She had been crying — he supposed about Harriet Dover. Nevertheless, the merry Lottie Carstairs smile, that once won London, shone forth bravely to mock his solemnity. Gup could not help being solemn when sincerity obliged him to do something he disliked. It is really a sub-subtle sense of humor that makes a Scotsman turn his coat, as it were, inside outward; he is ridiculing his own embarrassment, but it passes for lack of humor which is not the same thing. The Scots lack nothing except immodesty to make them the greatest nation in the world. Lottie Carstairs had the genius to see through that enigma:
“You are wondering what to say to me about Harriet?” she asked. “Don’t trouble. I have said it all myself. And now that’s over with. When she apologizes I will take her in my arms, and you will see, she won’t try to betray me again.” She smiled. “How stern you look. Did you come here to preach?”
“No,” he said, “I promise I won’t preach. I’m going to eat your dinner, pledge you in your own wine, and then declare war.”
“On whom? For God’s sake — not on the Amir? Gup, you will use up all our strength and leave us at the Indian army’s mercy! You mustn’t take too seriously that message he sent. If there must be war, let the Amir declare it.”
“War on you!” Gup interrupted. “Let’s eat and drink. It may be our last meal together.” He managed to force himself to smile.
She laughed. She believed he was jokin
g. “Very well,” she said, “fight while we eat. What’s the trouble?”
“No,” he answered. “I will eat with you as evidence of good will. After that I go — away from here. I intend to steal your army. With the army I intend to clean up this mess. Then I’m going to carry you off and marry you.”
She suddenly looked almost deathly tired, and it dawned on Gup that not only he had been busy all day long. Thinking is harder work than doing. But she still believed he was joking, although the joke seemed heavy, as her slow smile and her raised brows indicated. The deaf and dumb maid began to wait on them.
“What do you mean, Gup?” The smile died and her face grew serious.
“Please smile,” he answered. “I like it. I may never see you smile again. I am delivering a genuine ultimatum.”
“Gup — what do you mean?”
“Exactly what I have told you.” He signed to the maid to fill one glass with champagne. “Drink, Lottie. Then pass the glass to me.”
She obeyed him — sipped the wine. He drank the rest of it in one gulp.
“Gup, I don’t understand you.”
“It’s very simple,” he said. “I have known for two days that I love you.”
She was silent — staring at him.
“And Lottie, it is not given to a man like me to do things half-way. When I say I love you, I mean that without reservation. I love only you, and I propose to make you love me.”
“Make me?” she asked.
“Make you,” he said simply. “But I propose to play fair — fair to myself, for instance. It is easy to be fair to you — in fact more than generous. It suddenly dawned on me an hour ago that I have almost never been fair to myself. I propose to begin. Do eat. I am sure you need your dinner.”
He set her the example. He was feeling fine now. He knew exactly what he was going to say and do; he found it easier than he expected; he was actually smiling. And she sat wondering at him with blue eyes from which bathing had hardly washed away the tears, saying nothing but with that mystic look of ancient Egypt on her face that made him think of Hatshepsut who sat on the throne of Horus. She made a lame attempt at eating.
“Lottie, I suppose you admit that you trapped me, at the cost of my good name and lawful standing in the Anglo-Indian community?”
“Yes, I admit that.”
“That was an act of banditry. I have a right to reprisal. I take it — in the form of my personal guards, four and twenty mules, my horses, these clothes I stand in, and three days’ rations.”
“Are you mad? You can have anything you want here.”
“I want you,” said Gup, “but on my own terms. And I am going to have you. I declare war!”
“Aren’t you talking a little wildly, Gup? Doesn’t it occur to you how easily I could — I have only to summon my guards, you know.”
“I am risking that. I am presuming that you know how to play fair as well as I do. I intend to fight you for your army, to-morrow, at midnight.”
“Why?” she asked him. She appeared completely bewildered by his change of manner. “Do you imagine my army is not loyal to me?”
“Possibly it is. But I am also loyal to you. I came on this scene almost too late, and I have wasted valuable time pondering a problem that a wise man could have answered in less than ten minutes. You don’t love me yet do you?”
“I don’t know what to think of you. You make me breathless.”
“Well,” said Gup, “that’s a very moderate reprisal, Lottie, for some very painful hours that you have given me! However, never mind, that’s over with. From now on, you and I begin to understand each other, and you will understand me more easily if you remember that I love you with all my heart. Don’t have any doubt about that, because it’s true. I only wish I had had sense enough to love you in London in the old days.”
She smiled: “Gup, do you remember that line of Gilbert’s— ‘It was all very well to dissemble your love, but why did you kick me down-stairs?’ — you speak in one and the same breath of loving and fighting — won’t you explain?”
“Simple. You needn’t fight unless you want to. You may surrender at any time. But, you see, it was you who began the war by making me an outlaw at the end of the first skirmish. I’m going to use your army to regain my standing in a civilized community — and incidentally yours also. If you have moral, or any other kind of right to capture me by force or trickery, I have an equal right to capture you. You propose that I should go your way. I intend that you shall come my way. There is the issue.”
“Gup, do you propose to turn on me in a crisis — at a moment when I am shocked by what Harriet Dover did, and when the Amir may come down on us at any minute?”
“That’s exactly why I do it,” Gup retorted. “Tell me: what would you do if the Amir comes?”
“I would stay here. We could hold this place for ever against him.”
“As long as food lasts! And meanwhile he corks you in with the aid of a handful of troops and is free to march on India with nine-tenths of his army! You see, Lottie, you’re a wonderful organizer and dreamer, but you know nothing about strategy and nothing about war. Do you know what I intend to do?”
“You mean if I should let you?”
“What I will do is this: use this place as a bait for the Amir. If he is fool enough to take it and bottle up his army in it, all the better! However, I rather expect to catch him on his way here. Win, lose or draw, he will know he has been in a fight. I can promise him that.”
“There may be no need to fight,” she answered. “An army is a very powerful diplomatic argument. Let him invade India. He will probably agree to yield me all this country in return for neutrality. And he will also almost certainly be defeated.”
Gup laughed. “Lottie, neither you nor I could hold this army neutral for two days! You have raised it, paid it, trained it, fed it with enthusiam and pride in itself — now it has got to fight somebody — no matter whom. Furthermore, the Amir’s promises are worth exactly what force can make him fulfill — not a scrap more. In addition to which, you would have India to deal with afterward. However, none of that is important compared with two main points, of which the first is, that I won’t see India invaded if my life can prevent it, and the other is, that I love you far too much to let you make such an awful mistake. But arguments won’t persuade you. I know that. I will have to prove it to you.”
“I wish you would kindly not talk in riddles. What do you mean by prove it to me? And what do you mean about fighting me for my army?”
“To-morrow at midnight I am to be sworn in, am I not? Very well, let us both be there. I will come with four-and-twenty men. You bring as many as you wish — bring all of them. If I win the army, it’s mine. If you win it, it’s yours.”
Her eyes brightened: “If I win, do you yield to me?”
“Never!” he answered. “If you win, you do as you please, or what you can with your army. I go — or the army shoots me — it doesn’t matter. But if I win, the army will do as I tell it.”
“And then?”
“I will repeat to you what I say now: that I love you.”
“And you will expect me to yield to you? But you won’t yield to me if I win? Gup, do you call that a fair proposal?”
“Certainly. Because I will lead you on an honorable course, whereas you would want to lead me on a dishonorable one.”
“Oh, you Scotsman! You masculine, opinionated, obstinate egotist!”
“Guilty,” said Gup. “But I love you.”
He rose to his feet. “One more glass of wine, Lottie — just one glass between us, and then I’m off.”
The deaf-and-dumb maid filled a glass. She tasted it; Gup drank the rest.
“So long then, Lottie. Next time we meet we join battle. Meanwhile, I pay you the compliment of perfect confidence that you won’t try to stop me from leaving the caverns.”
He was aching to take her in his arms, but he was the same Gup McLeod he had always been — as diffident towa
rd a woman as if she were a mystical religion. He could smash her expensive impersonal plans and ruin all that she had built of material goods, but her personal self-respect was sacred. It was not that he was afraid of her, nor did he doubt that she liked him; he even half-suspected that she already loved him. But that was all the more reason for waiting until he was sure of it. Meanwhile, she was magnificent — no scorn, no bitter words, no threat, no scene. She stood wondering, watching him go.
Outside, in the tunnel beyond the anteroom was the Russian, buried in a sheepskin overcoat between two of Gup’s body-guard. Jonesey was leaning on his long staff, looking more than ever like a stained-glass window saint. Two more Pathans stood near him but Jonesey appeared unconscious of being watched.
“Lead on — to Miss Harriet Dover’s quarters.”
Even Jonesey showed surprise at that, but he said nothing — led the way up winding passages and a stairway hewn in limestone, to a corridor where bearded Hillmen leaned on rifles. They stared, but saluted and made no effort to prevent Gup’s passing. Was he not the new commander of the Ranee’s army? Had not Rahman given orders?
Jonesey struck the teak door with his long staff. It was opened by Bibi Marwarid, scandalized.
“Such noise! She is asleep!”
Gup strode in, she backing away before him. There were two rooms, with a door between. He signed to Bibi Marwarid to lead the way into the inner room. She hesitated, but obeyed when she saw he would otherwise go in alone. Not a word was spoken until Gup stood one long pace within the inner room, with Jonesey at his elbow. It was a rather plain room, although the rock walls were hidden by Indian hangings and there was a dressing-table with long mirror and silver fittings. Harriet Dover sat in an armchair, where she seemed to have been dozing. She glared at Gup as if eyes could kill him, but her eyes met relentless destiny and she recognized it. “You two ladies are to come with me at once. Wrap up warmly. Throw what you need into a bag. My guards will carry it.” Harriet Dover rose slowly out of the chair. “What does this mean?” she demanded.
