Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER XXII.

  For a moment the natural presence of mind which Fazil possesseddeserted him, and his brain seemed to reel under conflicting thoughts,and the weight and importance of the secret of which he had becomepossessed. Should he disclose himself to the King as he passed out,and urge him to allow Pahar Singh to be taken? The retinue whichawaited the monarch would be enough to surround the temple, and therobber's capture or death was certain. It was a deed to do to provehis devotion, and the country would be free of a bold and mischievousmarauder, who plundered it up to the gates of the city. But the King'spromise to the outlaw was for the time sacred, and there was, perhaps,further service to be done by the man, which could not be delayed. Asregards the Wuzeer and his family, also, he must avow his knowledge ofthe secret to the King, when he might be charged as his spy, and soshare the Wuzeer's fate. These thoughts checked the impulse which hadso nearly carried him on,--it might have been to destruction.

  "Shall we follow him? shall we speak to the King?" asked Bulwunthurriedly, observing Fazil's irresolution. "Say quickly, Meah,--we havenot a moment to lose."

  "No, no! we are better here," replied Fazil. "The avowed knowledge ofthat secret might chance to be our death-warrant; and has not the Kinggiven him kowl? Let us watch still--we may gather further particulars;but to follow the King is madness. Listen! they are speaking." Again,therefore, they resumed their respective positions.

  A few sticks had been thrown on the embers, and Maun Singh was kneelingdown and blowing them into a flame, which, bursting through them insmall flashes with every breath, partially illumined the figures aroundit and the blackened walls of the apartment. Pahar Singh sat withthe gold coins before him, counting them one by one. A large portionwere already laid on one side, which he proceeded to drop into thebag. The expression of his coarse and savage features could now bedistinctly seen; for not only was the light from the fire becomingsteady, but he had removed from his original position, so that he satwith his face nearly full towards Fazil, though from Bulwunt Rao hewas more concealed than before. It was a face which, once seen, couldnever be forgotten. Men saw it and quailed before it: women saw it andshuddered: and Fazil remembered how often old Goolab, when he was yeta child, had frightened him by the mention of Pahar Singh: while talesof his occasional frays and bloody deeds were of everyday report in thebazar.

  There, then, he sat. Turban he had none: his matted hair, twisted intoa rough rope, was tied in a knot on the crown of his head, and coveredwith ashes, showing the high narrow forehead--on which, though crossedby deep wrinkles, the forked veins, swelled by his excitement, stoodout like ridges, betokening passions wild, fierce, and uncontrollable.The eyes, always bright, glittered restlessly and suspiciously frombeneath the heavy brows, to which, and to the lids, the white ashes,smeared on his face from time to time as he sat, had adhered; and hishard grin disclosed the prominent eye-teeth, which he chose to calltusks, in allusion to his name.

  When we last saw this face at Itga, it was excited, but there was asoftening influence exercised by the presence of his adopted son, andPahar Singh was under some restraint. Now there was none, and it wasdifficult to recognize the features at all under his disguise, whichserved to increase the natural ferocity of the expression.

  His rough moustaches, of a sandy-brown colour at the ends, mingledwith a straggling scanty beard, were usually parted in the middle, andturned over his ears; but now, being loosened, they were tied togetherin a knot under his chin, in the most approved Jogi fashion. His broadchest was covered with grizzled hair of the same peculiar colour ashis beard; and his chin, originally fair, had become of a deep brown,except where it retained some of its original colour. His arms, whichhad appeared so muscular when he suddenly started up to threaten theking, seemed even longer and more powerful, as he sat stretching outone over the blaze, while the fingers of the other hand played amongthe gold pieces before him. Pahar Singh's countenance was now veryrepellant. It seemed to Fazil that mercy could never issue from thosepitiless lips which, with the full nostrils distending and contractingrapidly under the action of feelings not yet expressed, produced aneffect which fascinated, while it shocked one unused to it.

  "Lallajee," he said, every now and then looking up: "O friend, dostthou love gold? See, this is red and pure--ah, yes, lovely--and so itneed be, coming out of the King's mint direct. More than ten thousandrupees, too, they said. Well, there are just five hundred and fiftyashruffees. That is--how much, Maun Singh? thou art a better accountantthan I am."

  "Somewhere about eleven thousand rupees, I believe, Maharaj," said hisfollower.

  "Well, that will do, Lallajee," continued Pahar Singh. "That is myshare for taking care of thee, thou knowest, and getting thee a goodmarket for thy papers. The gods be praised! I vow ten of these to theHoly Mother's necklace at Tooljapoor," and he took up ten pieces of thenumber that remained.

  "Nay, valiant sir," interposed the Lalla: "that is your Excellency'sshare in the bag yonder. These are mine, not half, as we agreed, butenough perhaps for the poor Lalla. It would be no merit for my lord ifhe were to give to the goddess----"

  He could not finish the sentence, whatever it might have been intendedto mean, for the rude interruption--"Ill-begotten!" cried the robber,snatching a brand from the fire and striking the Lalla's hand, whichhad advanced towards the heap,--"dare to touch the gold, and thoudiest! That for the like of thee!"

  "I am your slave," whimpered the man, wringing his hand; "but why didmy lord strike so hard?"

  "Listen to the coward, brother," said Pahar Singh with a sneer; "awoman would not whine like that. Now, thy share, Maun Singh."

  "Of course," said that worthy, "after being dallal in the matter, andputting my head into jeopardy, running after that mad Secretary intothe very palace--where, had any one chanced to recognize me, I shouldhave been cut down or speared like a mad dog--truly, considering therisk, and that day and night's ride to boot, mine comes next. Ah! thouart a just man, O Jemadar."

  "Well, then, hold out thine hand, brother," returned Pahar Singh,taking up a few coins and dropping them into his hand. "One, two,three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good gold, good gold, Lallajee!"he said, looking up: "but it is of no use giving it to him: he willonly spend it on women and liquor. Better I should have the rest, whocan take care of it, Lalla, and give it him as he needs it--dost thounot think so? Yet, stay, I may as well--nine, ten, that's two hundredrupees, brother--enough for thee. Who would have thought of a bundleof old papers bringing so many bright ashruffees. And after all, OLalla--by your head--were they true or false, O mean thief?"

  "True; I swear by your head and eyes, by the holy Krishna and histemple at Muttra. Canst thou doubt, after what has passed, O Jemadar?"cried the Lalla earnestly.

  "Nay, how could I understand thy jabbering of Persian? That was nohonest talk, Maun Singh; they meant to cheat us by it, and thisslave joined in it. Twenty-one, twenty-two,"--he was counting theremainder of the gold, and dropping the coins into his own bag as hespoke, "twenty-three. Dost thou think, O Lalla, that I am a cheatingMutsuddee, like thyself?--twenty-four, twenty-five.--Ill-begottenclerk, say--am I--Pahar Singh--a liar and a thief like thyself?"----

  "May I be your sacrifice, Maharaj, no," cried the Lalla, terrified athis manner, and watching, with evident and ill-concealed uneasiness,coin after coin disappearing into the bag. "Why should my lord be angryif I spoke in Persian?"

  "Ho, ho, thou art frightened again--art thou? Well, perhaps thoucouldst not help the Persian, as the letter had to be read; but Iunderstood it all the time, O Lalla. Thou couldst not have cheatedme--listen!" he continued in that language, speaking it with a broadMahratta accent; "what part of this sum dost thou expect for thyshare--twenty-six, twenty-seven. There is yet much, Lalla. What sayeththe poet Saadi? Expectation----No matter, I forget the verses we usedto learn at school. How much?"

  "Nay, Maharaj, I know not," returned the man in a bewildered manner."My lord said half would be mine, and the Meerza told us there weremore
than ten thousand rupees."

  "Good, O Lalla, thou patron of valiant men like me: but dost thouexpect it? Five thousand rupees! dost thou think that such a sum willcome to thee?" and his hand passed to the hilt of his sword.

  "My lord! noble prince! I--I--I," stammered the now trembling wretch."I--I--mean the promise to me. Nay, look not so, Maharaj," as heobserved the robber's face distorted with suppressed rage, the veinsof his forehead swelled, and white foam gathering about the corners ofthe mouth. "Nay, look not so angry! Behold, I kiss your feet: I am avery poor man, and a stranger;" and he joined his hands in supplicationas he rose from his heels partly to a kneeling posture. "Would my lordever have known of the value of those papers had I not told it? Wouldthey not have been thrown away, scattered to the winds, if my poor lifehad been taken at Itga?"

  "My promise!--my promise to thee, O son of a base mother! Didst thounot swear to me they would be worth thousands?--lakhs!" cried therobber, raising his voice and gesticulating violently, as he now tookup the gold pieces by handfuls, and thrust them into the bag. "A lakhof rupees! and here are only a few paltry coins, for which thou hastbrought me fifty coss! What will Anunt Geer of Kullianee say to thispoor instalment on his debt? Thief! get me the rest--the rest of thegold they have put aside for thee. Didst thou not promise a lakh?"

  He had now lashed himself into a fury, which had been his objectevidently from the first; and he struck the Lalla with his clenchedhand violently upon the head, so that he fell backwards, and layapparently stunned; but it was only fear.

  "He will kill him--not that he does not deserve death, the mean hound!"said Fazil Khan, hurriedly to his companion. "When was Pahar Singh everknown to spare a victim? What is to be done, Bulwunt? shall we attackthem?"

  "Alas, Meah!" returned the other, "what can be done?--a sound, a word,and the man is dead. We cannot reach them; and the door was closed andbarred when the others went. Ai Bhowani! ai Khundoba! ai Bhugwan! savehim! O, that I had brought my gun with me, or even a pistol, Meah; buthe dare not kill him; he is only frightening him out of the money.Hush, and listen!"

  "Raise him, brother," continued Pahar Singh to his companion, laughing;"we will soon see whether this fear is true or feigned; or is thecoward soul really gone out of his body?"

  "Nay, Jemadar, but he breathes," said Maun Singh, raising the Lalla."Speak, O Toolsee Das! art thou alive?"

  "My lords! O my lords!" gasped the terrified wretch; "what have I done?what have I done? why am I beaten?"

  "My thousands, I tell thee!" cried the robber hoarsely. "Where arethe papers that were to bring me thousands? Thou hast concealedthem to sell to others. Liar! liar, and base-born coward, as thouart!----Enough, Maun Singh," he continued, in another language, whichwas not understood either by Fazil Khan or his companion, and whichboth often thought of afterwards; "he must die; the goddess has senthim; he must die for her, lest he lead other men astray."

  "Ay, he is good Bunij, Jemadar," returned the man coolly. "Methinksthis would have saved trouble long ago, and your worship's getting intoa passion. We ate the goor this morning----"

  "Surely, brother, but no blood. I would not soil my sword with carrionlike him; and yours is a certain hand with the handkerchief."

  What words can describe the terror of the devoted wretch? He could notspeak or cry out. Of what use if he had? He knew the temple was farfrom men's abodes, and the wind moaned hoarsely in the trees above, asthe branches swayed to and fro before a brisk gale now rising with theclouds. He tried to swallow, but in vain. He sat paralysed, as it were,his eyes wandering vacantly from one to the other, while his lips weretightened into a ghastly simper of fear. Neither of the men spoke; butMaun Singh was carelessly twisting a handkerchief into a peculiar form,and tying a knot at the end of it. "Thou wilt not feel it, Lallajee,"he said jocularly, but in the strange tongue; "my hand is sure, and Iam the best Bhuttote in Allund."

  What the Lalla understood or guessed it was impossible to conceive;but Fazil felt assured that murder was to be done. "By Alla and hisProphet!" he said to Bulwunt, "come what may of it, are we men to standby tamely and see foul murder committed before our eyes? Were thewretch a hundred times more liar and coward, one good blow should bestruck against that ruffian. Ho, Pahar Singh! Maun Singh!" shouted theyoung Khan before he could be prevented by his companion. "Hold! wouldye do murder?"

  "Hur, Hur, Mahadeo!" cried his companion at the same moment, and bothrushed to the place where, on the side they had been standing, the wallseemed the lowest; but it was still too high to be reached without ascramble over rough stones, which delayed them longer than they hadthought. The top once gained, they leaped into the enclosure with drawnweapons; but as they did so, Fazil saw one man on the top beyond,another climbing up, aided by his companion. For him and Bulwunt Raoto rush across the court was the act but of an instant; yet they weretoo late: the Jogi--Pahar Singh--had escaped, and his companion was inthe act of dropping down, when, aided by a bound, the well-aimed weaponof the young Khan reached him. Where or how Fazil Khan had woundedthe robber he knew not; but when he examined his bright blade, therewas a broad stain upon it which could not be mistaken. As he looked,hesitating whether he should leap down and follow, he could justdistinguish two figures dimly, running at desperate speed through thetrees across the plain, which were quickly lost in the gloom.

  Bulwunt Rao was at his side. "Another moment and we should have hadboth: the gods have protected them; and it is of no use following,Meah," he said.

  "No, no, they are gone," returned Fazil; "it is useless to follow:better for us to see after that poor wretch yonder--the villains mayhave murdered him, after all;" and they hastened to him.

  The flickering blaze was still playing about the little fire, andserved them with enough light to distinguish the objects by it,disclosing, too, more of the apartment or verandah than they had yetseen; and as both entered the place at the same moment, a cry ofexecration burst simultaneously from them.

  "The villains have been too sure! While we scrambled among those stonesthey killed him. See, here is an ugly gash, Meah!" said Bulwunt Rao.

  "That would not kill him," said Fazil, stooping to raise up thebody--"and he is quite warm. I most fear this cloth about his neck; butlook for some water. I would not have him die. So now--dash some in hisface--his heart beats, too--he lives, Bulwunt Rao!"

  "Praise to Narayun! there is at least a chance for him," cried Bulwunt."Awake--arise, O Lalla! and fear not," he continued to the wounded man;"your enemies are gone, and you are with friends who can protect you.Here, drink some water. I am a Hindu who give it; and speak, O man witha small liver!"

  These cheering words, accompanied by a few gentle blows on his back,and a little water forced into his mouth, restored something likeconsciousness to the wretch. He opened his eyes and stared wildlyabout, and into the faces of those who stood over him: then he put hishand to his throat as if it hurt him.

  "Ay, I dare say," continued Bulwunt--"I dare say they hurt thee badly;but fear not, Sree Swami has sent you friends; drink, and it will doyou good. Tut, man, you need not be particular about caste; here ismy junwha, and there is no need to ask further. That's well--can youspeak?"

  "Ye are not they," said the Lalla huskily, and in a low tone. "Friends,how came ye here? Hai, Hai!--alas, where is my gold? and where are therobbers who would have killed me? May their mothers be defiled!"

  "Perish the gold, meanhearted," cried Fazil; "with thy soul hoveringbetwixt life and death, is thy first thought for thy gold?"

  "I worship thy feet, brave Gosai," returned the Lalla; "but it was allI had, for which I had risked much. Hai, Hai! it is all gone now, and Iam in a strange place without a copper or a friend;" and he turned tothe wall and sobbed bitterly.

  "It was a round sum to lose, certainly," said Bulwunt; "but thy life issafe, and thou hast only to steal again, Lallajee!"

  "Better to have died--better to have died, sirs!" cried the mandistractedly. "When shall I see so much gold again? Look, noble sirs,is all gone?
has he taken all?"

  "It was here they counted it," said Fazil; "look about--a piece or twomay be found; or they may have dropped some in their flight."

  Bulwunt blew a dry stick into a blaze, and looked around. He wasfortunate--a few coins had escaped Pahar Singh, which he gave to theLalla, who tied them up in his waist-cloth.

  "Look for more--look yonder, kind sir; and the blessings of a poorKhayet be on you both," returned the Lalla. "My eyes are dim: alas!"he exclaimed, as he put his hand to the back of his neck and feltblood,--"I am killed--I am dying!"

  "Peace, fool!" cried Fazil impatiently, "a child would have cut deeper:it has been a strange escape. Give me your scarf--I will tie up thewound."

  "And here is some more money for you, too, Lallajee," said Bulwunt,who had now returned, having picked up several gold pieces in the linewhich Pahar Singh had taken across the court. "There may be more, andif you come to-morrow early, you may find them."

  "But now we cannot wait, Lalla," added Fazil; "there is no further fearof your life. The clouds are gathering fast, and there will be rain; wewill see you safe to a guard-room, and I will have you cared for in themorning; or you can sleep here if you like."

  "Ah, leave me not, gentlemen! I am poor and in great pain," replied theman. "My clothes and horse are a long way from hence: how shall I getto them? Take me with you and I shall live, else he will find me outand kill me--that Pahar Singh."

  Supporting the wounded man between them, the two friends unfastenedthe door of the courtyard and passed out. The glare and noise of thebazar seemed only at a short distance, and knowing that a strong guardwas placed at night near the end nearest the city, they went to it asdirectly as they could. A few questions were carelessly asked as to thecause of the wound, and as vaguely answered. A traveller found wounded,who had been robbed, was probably cause enough to account for hiscondition.

  "We cannot delay, Lalla," said Bulwunt, in answer to his cries thatone at least would stay with him. "We have far to go, and the nightis passing fast. The clouds, too, are gathering, and the thunder isgrowling in the distance. Hark! there will be a storm. Come, Meah," hewhispered, "we may miss him whom we seek. See that the man's wounds aredressed, Duffadar," he continued aloud to the officer of the guard,"and let him sleep here."