Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  It was no fear of Maloosray or lack of enterprise that caused theyoung Khan to desist from his pursuit; but finding that his retainerhad not followed him, nor, indeed, any of the guard--the fear thatBulwunt might have been wounded occurred to him, or that he had beenapprehended and detained. It was hopeless also to trace Maloosray, orto ascertain which way he and his companion had proceeded, as theyissued from the door of the courtyard into the lane behind. Turningback then, after he had run a few paces, by the way he had come, anddirected by the clamour inside the house, he passed rapidly through theyard, and entered the room where the quarrel had taken place; this hefound filled with armed men, with several torch-bearers standing aroundwhat appeared to be the dead body of his friend.

  Fazil had observed Maloosray's violent attack upon him, and thatBulwunt retreated a step or two to avoid it; while at the same timehe had advanced towards his own antagonist. The consequences of thatblow, therefore, were not immediately seen by him. Now inexpressiblyshocked and grieved by the result, Fazil heeded no one; but pressinghis way through those assembled, somewhat roughly, he threw himself onhis knees beside Bulwunt, who was quite insensible, and, laying asidehis sword, strove to raise him up. He saw indeed with great grief thatBulwunt had received a very severe wound; and the pool of blood flowingfrom the cut, which had not been stanched, and his apparently lifelesscondition, caused the most lively alarm.

  "Will no one help me?" cried Fazil, looking round, while vainlyendeavouring to stanch the blood which occasionally welled from thegaping wound, as Bulwunt breathed heavily. "For the love of God and theApostle lend me thy waist-band, good sir!" he continued, addressinga respectable-looking man who had accompanied the soldiers, and whowas, in fact, the petty officer over them; "or bid some one loose mywaist-cloth, else he will perish. Alas, my true friend and brother!"

  "And who are you," returned the man contemptuously, "who, in the dressof a Kafir Gosai, dares to take the name of the holy Apostle?--on whombe peace!--a thief or murderer, I warrant. How say you, brother! He mayhave done this himself, and now mingles with us to pretend grief andavoid suspicion. Here is some evil, depend upon it; seize him and bindhim fast."

  "Yes, my lords," cried the keeper of the house, who now venturedforward, "bind him fast. That is the fellow who did the murder. Theyquarrelled over their ganja; and though I did all I could to preventthem----"

  "Peace!" cried Fazil, accustomed only to command, and who could illbrook the measures threatened; for several men had closed about him attheir officer's order, while another had kicked away his sword, whichone of the men was picking up. "Peace, I say; raise him up! See, he isbadly wounded; have you no compassion? He will die!"

  "Whether he dies or whether he lives, one would think it was littleconcern of thine, boy," replied the man; "and there is blood on hissword, too," he added, as the man who had possessed himself of it heldit up to the light. "Seize him, brother, and bind him fast; he willhave to answer for this in the morning. Who art thou, ill-born?"

  As the leader of the party spoke, several of the soldiers had thrownthemselves upon Fazil, who still kneeled beside Bulwunt, and, holdinghim down, pulled the turban rudely from his head, and in an instantbound his arms with it so tightly behind his back that the act causedhim immediate and exquisite pain.

  "Who art thou, knave?" asked the man again peremptorily.

  "Speak," cried several of the men, shaking him rudely; "don't you hearwhat his worship says to you? Speak!"

  "It is useless for me now to say who I am," replied Fazil lookinground. "Enough that I am one of your own faith, as ye will know whenthe morning breaks;--one who may be able to punish you for roughuncivil usage, or reward you if that poor fellow is speedily aided.I care little what happens to myself; but if ye know of a physiciannear, or a skilful barber, I pray, good sir," he continued, addressinghimself to the officer, "send for him, that a valuable life may besaved."

  This speech was received with a shout of derision by most of the party;but their leader was not unobservant, and he saw at once, by the mannerand speech of Fazil, that he was no common person; certainly not, whathis attire proclaimed him to be, a Gosai. There was a chance thathe might be some one of rank in disguise. The keeper of the househad declared him to be the man who had struck down the unfortunateBulwunt; but, again, the consideration of his return to the spot, andhis sincere grief at the poor fellow's wound, went far to assure theofficer that his prisoner had not done the deed, and that whoever didit had escaped. These thoughts rapidly occurring, caused the Duffadarto doubt whether rigour was needful. "Art thou a Gosai?" he askedagain. "Answer truly!"

  "There is no God but God, and Mahomed is the Prophet of God," exclaimedFazil, repeating the creed, and, as rapidly as possible, in Arabic, thefirst part of the midnight prayer. "No, good sir, I am no Gosai, but ahumble disciple of the Prophet, on whom be peace!"

  "Toba, Toba! now shame on me that I should have put a Mussulman todisgrace," exclaimed the Duffadar. "Loose him, friends--we will seeto this; and run one of ye to the respectable Meer Hoosein, who livesin the alley yonder, and is a skilful doctor; and, if I mistake not,there is a clever barber, one Nunda, who lives near him, and who isaccustomed to matters of this kind. Bid him bring his needles to sewup the wound. And, hark ye, no excuses from either about the rain andlateness of the night; this is the King's business, and a matter oflife and death."

  Then turning to Bulwunt, who had been raised up while Fazil's arms werebeing unbound, and who appeared sensible, he spoke cheerfully to him,bidding him not to be afraid, for he would be well treated.

  "Water!" gasped the poor fellow, looking dreamily about him andpointing to his mouth--"Water!"

  "Here is a vessel full," cried a bearded soldier, advancing; "drink,friend."

  "Hold," said Fazil, "he is a Hindu; he will not take it from you. Whereis the kullal? Let him get some."

  "Here, great sir," said the man, advancing with a brass vessel full."Who is he? May he take water from me?"

  "He is a Mahratta," replied Fazil.

  "Then there is no fear," added the kullal, and he knelt down and poureda little into Bulwunt's mouth, who drank it eagerly, and, laying holdof the vessel itself, took a long draught, which seemed to revive him;while the kullal, untying the scarf about his chin, wetted it withwater and applied it to the wound; and, removing his turban, alsowetted his head.

  This treatment soon revived Bulwunt, who now sat up and passed his handdreamily over his eyes, but did not speak.

  "He seems recovering," said the Duffadar to Fazil, who had been pulledto one side and was held by two men, though his arms were untied. "Sofar thou art fortunate, young sir; but, in the name of the saints, whydidst thou strike him down? Was this well? 'Twas but yesterday thatthe Kotwal swore on the Koran that he would have the right arm of thefirst brawler who should do murder: pity such fate should befall thee,young as thou art! Are there not enough of the Shah's enemies abroadto try thy weapons upon, without mixing in midnight brawls? But speakto thy friend, if friend he is. It may have been a hasty blow, deeplyregretted."

  "Sir, you are under some extraordinary mistake," said Fazil, who hadseveral times tried to interrupt the speaker. "I am not the man who didthis. Ho! Bulwunt, Bulwunt!" he continued, "speak if you can, and fearnot. I am here, and these are friends."

  "Meah," said the poor fellow very faintly, "I am badly hurt. I may die,Ai Narayun! Ai Bhugwan!--Water, Meah! I am faint and sick,"--and hefell back almost insensible.

  "Loose my arms, good sir," cried Fazil impatiently; "I am no thief torun away. If there be a Hindu among you, give him some water. I may notdo so."

  "Let him go," said the Duffadar to the men, "there is some mistakehere, I think, and no enmity between them; and do thou, Jewun Singh,fetch a vessel of water--he will drink from thy hand freely."

  Fazil's first act on being released was to examine the wound, which wassevere, and required care. The sabre of Maloosray had cut deep into theneck, close to the shoulder, and the l
oss of blood had been very great.A little higher up and the wound must have been instantly fatal. Towring out the scarf which the kullal had placed upon it, and replace itwetted, was Fazil's first care, and in this the Duffadar and some ofthe men now lent a willing hand. Fresh cool water was also brought bythe man who had been sent for it, and Bulwunt Rao, having again drunkfreely, sat up supported by his young lord.

  "Ask him now, Duffadar Sahib," said Fazil, "whether it was I whowounded him, and, on his reply, give me liberty or not as seems good toyou. Speak, Bulwunt Rao, did I hurt you?"

  "Now may his tongue rot who says so," replied the wounded man, lookingwildly about him. "But thou art safe, Meah!--and did they escape?"

  "Who?" asked the Duffadar sharply.

  "Tannajee Maloosray, the friend of Sivaji Bhoslay," returned Bulwunt."People know of him, perhaps!"

  "Tannajee Maloosray? Thou art dreaming, friend," said the Duffadar,with an incredulous smile. "Tannajee dared no more enter Beejapoorthan--than----"

  "Than you, good sir, dare go to him, I suppose," said Fazil, ending thesentence. "Nevertheless, he was here, and but for a mischance wouldhave been lying dead there."

  "Tannajee here!" mused the Duffadar; "this must, then, be some deepplot, and the city is full of plots. Sir," he said to the young Khan,"the mention of that name, and all the events we have seen, causemany suspicions in my mind which I am not competent to dispose of;therefore, whoever thou art, release is impossible till the morning,when I must give an account of all matters to the Kotwal, who hascautioned the guards to be watchful against Mahratta parties and Moghulemissaries."

  "Willingly," replied Fazil. "I could not leave him now, nor till hiswound is dressed. As for myself, I am Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan,though I may not tell why I am disguised as an infidel, and why foundin this place; suffice it to say it was in the King's service."

  "Now may I receive my lord's pardon," cried the old man, presentinghumbly the hilt of his sword as an offering. "Why did he not tellme sooner, and this offence and presumption would have been spared?Who among us does not know the valiant Afzool Khan, and have not allheard of his son Fazil Khan, the pillar of the state?" he added to themen, who fell back, saluting the young man with mingled curiosity andrespect.

  "Give me some water," said Fazil. "This dress and appearance areagainst me, Duffadar," he continued, laughing; "and if I had told who Iwas when ye seized me first, my arms might even have been bound a screwtighter perhaps. It does not signify now, for you only did your duty,as I can bear witness. Ah, the water is come--pour it over my hands,good fellow, and after the paint has disappeared, some of ye may knowme."

  "I know you, my lord," said a youth who pressed forward, as Fazilturned again to the light from the door where he had been washing hisface. "Yes, father," he continued to the Duffadar, "this is truly thebrave young Khan--no doubt of that;" and he stepped forward and touchedFazil's feet.

  "Too dangerous, too dangerous," said the Duffadar, "for one like him.Yes, thou art right, Ashruf--now I know the face too; but the disguisewas perfect; who could have guessed it? Too dangerous: and thou theonly son of the noble Khan! Ah, sir, had any evil befallen thee----"

  "No matter if I had died," cried Fazil, "it would have been in theShah's service; but here are the physician and barber, and my friend'swound must be dressed; and do one of ye see for that kullal, who knowsmore of Tannajee than any one else. Where is he?"

  While some of the men went to search for the kullal, the barber, havingtrimmed the lamp and increased the light by several wicks, unfastened aleathern case containing razors and other instruments, and selectingtwo crooked needles fitted with waxed silk thread, put them aside,while he washed the wound clean in a careful and confident manner. Afew stitches brought the lips of the cut together, after which it wasbound up with fresh leaves of the neem tree, which cooled the wound andrefreshed the patient.

  All this having been effected, Bulwunt Rao was carefully raised up andborne by several of the men to the chowree, or guard-room, which washard by, but at the opposite side of the quarter to that in which theLalla had been lodged.