CHAPTER LVI.
"A dark night, my lord," cried Pahar Singh, as the Khan and his son,accompanied by the Peer, rode up to a large fire which, kindled bydry thorns from the hedges, sent up a ruddy blaze high in the air assome loose fodder was thrown on it, displaying the tall form of thechief, as he stood there with his nephew and several others, "and yeare welcome; and here are the rest, too," he continued, as the foremostmen of the body of cavalry crowded up, the strong light revealing thedark faces of the Abyssinians and the noble horses on which they weremounted. "Bismilla! as ye say, let us mount and depart."
"I have not kept you longer than I could help," said the Khan, "and themen are divided into bodies, as you directed, under their own leaders.With me are some of my people, and the noble Ibrahim Khan himself withhis; and I will remain with you as you proposed. The rest of my men gowith my son."
"When we get near the place, Khan," said Pahar Singh, "I will givedirections. And now, beat the drum, Lukshmun, and do you and Ramalook after the guides--you know the road; go on, and beat the drumoccasionally to let us know where you are."
"I would it were daylight, father," said Fazil; "it will be no easymatter guiding all those men in the dark."
"Fear not, my lord," cried Pahar Singh, "we shall see better when weare away from those fires, which only blind us. The roads are dry, andyour Beejapoor horses don't fear stones. In three hours or more weshall be near the place, then a rest, and some arrangements; and afterthat you can give your own orders, and we, your servants, can executethem. Come, sirs, we can strike into the road at the end of the fieldby the trees."
"Shall we have no torch on this unsainted errand?" said the Peer,rather peevishly.
"Huzrut," said Pahar Singh, "this is hardly work for a man of God, andthe roads are rough. No; we must manage with what light the sky givesus, for we have to deal with wary people, and 'twere a pity to take theKhan so long a night ride and show him no sport. If you are afraid theroad will be too rough, do not come: but ride with the force to-morrow."
"Afraid!" cried the Peer contemptuously. "I, a servant of God, afraid!Astagh-fur-oolla! If there is any work to do, thou shalt see whether apriest cannot strike as hard a blow as a layman. The Khan can bear mewitness that wherever he goes I am ever beside him."
"Pardon me," cried the chief, laughing, "I will doubt no longer. I onlyfear that, in catching thieves, there may be less need for our swordsthan for contrivance to outwit them."
"And may not we know how, father," cried Fazil, riding to his father'sside, as they reached the end of the field, "what this contrivance is,and where we go?"
"To Tooljapoor, my lord," replied Pahar Singh in a low voice, not soas to be heard by the Peer: "a nest of traitors is assembled there,and we need to take them out of it. Keep together, now, I pray ye,gentlemen: I must ride before all for a short distance, and will rejoinye by-and-by."
"Tooljapoor!" exclaimed the Peer, when Pahar Singh had disappeared, "anest of idols and thieves, indeed. The haunt of a devil in the shapeof an old woman, whom they all worship. I know her, with her red eyes;and when I have seen the idolatrous Kaffirs bow down before her bythousands, I have longed for the sword of our lord the Prophet to beamong them. 'Inshalla!' when----"
"Peace, Huzrut," said the Khan, in a soothing tone, interrupting him."I have promised that the temple and the idol come to no harm, oncondition of taking none who are there, and----"
"Well, well, Khan," returned the Peer impatiently. "I am not a Roostum,to slay all the unbelievers myself, or to overturn that abode ofdevils! Do as thou wilt, friend; do as thou wilt. I will not striketill thou dost--till I hear thy war-cry; after that--'Futteh-i-Nubbee'(Victory to the Prophet) say I!"
"Ameen!" said the Khan dryly, "but I trust there will be no need of it.Come, Fazil, let us turn into the road and keep it, before the mainbody comes up. Listen," continued the Khan, as they rode on by an openpathway among the fields of tall corn. "His plan is for the town to besurrounded above, and a ravine below to be blocked up. He would givethee the latter work, son, as the people will try to escape thence."
"By the Prophet, an excellent plan," said the priest,--"no better couldbe devised. A few horsemen across the mouth of the glen will catch allthat come out of the temple like fish in a net. I know the place well.No one could get up the sides of that glen at night,--no, not one."
"I would rather go with thee, father," said the young man; "my placeis with thee; surely any one could manage below, and if there bedanger----"
"There will be no danger, son," he returned: "these people will becaught in their own trap, worshipping their horrible idol, and will beunarmed. I shall keep outside the gates, and watch for the fugitives.Pahar Singh knows the men he wants, and will take his own people andsome of the Abyssinians inside. If needs be, we can meet in the temple,but there must be no question in regard to this arrangement, which eventhe Peer ratifies."
"Surely, my lord," said the priest, "it is the fittest in all respects;and Pahar Singh, considering that he is an infidel and robber, seems aman of some propriety of manner, and is doing our lord the King goodservice."
"Dost thou remember the cry, 'Ulla dilaya to leonga!' and the tallKullunder who brought the Wuzeer's papers to the Durbar?" asked theKhan; "that was Pahar Singh."
"Ulla dilaya to leonga!" exclaimed the priest. "Yes, I remember.'Puna-i-Khoda!' (protection of God) was that he? Then the night beforethere was the same cry in the fort as I left the King; could that havebeen he also? I thought it might have been some drunken Kullunder, asthey said it was."
"The night before Khan Mahomed was killed?" cried the Khan and Fazil ina breath.
"Yes; why do you ask?" returned the priest; "it was near morning."
"It was curious enough," said the Khan carelessly, "but thoseKullunders are very early; they like to be on foot when the women aregrinding at their mills, to get a handful of flour."
"Yes, it was about that time," said the priest unsuspiciously, and theconversation dropped.
It was almost impossible to reunite again; for the road, which waspretty broad and free from stones at first, shrunk to a narrow path,through corn-fields on each hand, and it was difficult for more thantwo to ride abreast with comfort; and sometimes, indeed, that evencould not be managed. They passed several villages at irregularintervals, and proceeded without check or halt. Pahar Singh, for themost part, rode in front of his own troop; but returned occasionallyto the Khan and his son, who, being between the advanced guard and themain body, were unimpeded by the crowding which elsewhere unavoidablyexisted.
Whether it was that their eyes had become more accustomed to thedarkness, or that the gloom of the first part of the night had relaxedin some respect, it hardly signified; for, without betraying theirpresence at any distance, there was light enough to distinguish thepath; and to follow, without much inconvenience, the men who precededthem. These were, as we know, ignorant of their destination: and mostbelieved it might be Puraindah, or somewhere on the western frontier,where disturbance had occurred.
Those in advance, however, halted at length; and the rushing sound ofthe trampling of the heavy body of horse, which had continued throughthe night like a dull hoarse roar behind, gradually grew fainter asthe mass of men collected and stood still. The Khan and his son, withthe Peer, were speculating as to whether that was to be the place ofdivergence, when Pahar Singh and his nephew rode up, and at once put anend to the doubt.
"We separate here," he said; "and this, Meah Sahib, is my son whowill lead you; you will find him true and intelligent. Do not go toSindphul," he added to Gopal Singh; "Lukshmun knows the high-road toRutunjun by Uljapoor, and that will take you close under the passbetween Sindphul and the town. Keep in the hollow near the river, andwhen you hear our shouts above, turn into the ravine, and get up as faras you can. We will give you time before we ourselves move into thetemple."
A few words of farewell, as father and son dismounting, embraced eachother; a commending of each other to God and the Prophet; and Fa
zil andhis father separated.
The ground on which they had halted was level, and covered with thickcorn-fields, which extended, almost unbroken on their left hand, to thesouth; but on their right, small watercourses and ravines rendered anypassage between the road westward and the hills impossible. Where theystood, the hills were low, and a passage or gap in them to the rightwas pointed out by Pahar Singh as the direction of the main body: infront, they appeared to grow higher, and a bluff termination of onebay, which stood out a dark gloomy mass against the sky, was pointedout by Pahar Singh to the Khan as near the town, and a light whichseemed at times to glow in the air about its brow, as the illuminationof the town and the temple.
Ibrahim Khan, and several other officers of minor rank, had now joinedthe group, and in a few words Pahar Singh explained how they were toact. One body would turn to the right close to the town, and guard theroads towards Little Tooljapoor and Boree; another party would spreadto the left, on the plain which led to the top of the pass; the third,which would be commanded by Pahar Singh and Ibrahim Khan, would enterthe town and seize the temple gate, where there could be no egress forany one except through it, or the postern below. Up the precipices ofthe glen, and over the high walls of the temple, escape was impossible.
"Come, sirs," said Pahar Singh, after a delay which, to the Khan,appeared intolerably long; "they are now near enough: follow me;" and,turning his horse up the pass, the men, taking the direction from thosein advance, moved after them as fast as the stony nature of the ascentwould allow.
* * * * *
It had been a rare night of enjoyment to the crowds assembled in thetemple, and attracted by the unusual amount of entertainment, the townitself was nearly deserted by its Hindu inhabitants, who--men, women,and children of all ranks, classes, and ages--had betaken themselvesto the lower court, which was as full as it could well be packed: thepeople sitting in rows, as we have described on a previous occasion,on the ground, or perched upon terraces, the roofs of houses, and uponthat of the vestibule.
As the night wore on, and the assembly seemed in no humour to separate,Anunda, foreseeing the confusion which would arise when the ceremoniesshould conclude with the last procession, had proposed to Tara, asshe joined them for a while in their accustomed seat on the roof ofthe vestibule, to retire before the crush began; but Tara herself wasin the highest spirits: she had no fear of Moro Trimmul; he had notso much as saluted her or seemed to notice her. Gunga and the otherpriestesses had exhibited a flattering deference, assisted her tobring garlands, and danced before her, as the processions passed roundthe shrine, singling her out as their object of respect--almost ofadoration.
Few who had noticed Tara that night--and who did not?--ever forgotthe triumphant looks and gestures of the seemingly inspired girl asshe moved lightly and gracefully before the priests; or the sweet,thrilling voice, which seemed to rise high above the rest in the solemnhymns and chants of the ceremony. She felt secure in the protection ofher father, and even of the other girls, who had besought her to staytill all was concluded; and the last service, more solemn and moremeritorious than the preceding, would be at the sacred hour of themoon's change.
"Do thou and Radha go," she said; "it will be well. I cannot leaveanything unfinished, else the Mother will be angry, and I shall regretit. I will stay near the shrine, and return with my father."
Anunda did not object, and she and Radha, congratulating themselvesupon having left early enough to escape inconvenience, gained the gateof the temple unobserved, and made their way through the desertedstreets without interruption. There was no one in the house; all thewomen-servants were absent at the ceremony. The watchman who guardedthe outer door of the house--one of the hereditary Ramoosees of thetown--sat with two of his men in the porch, and, when the women camein, asked leave to go and see the last procession, which was readilygranted; so they were left alone: but without apprehension.
From the terraced roof they looked out for some time, for the brilliantillumination lighted up the temple spires, and from the largeoil-cressets a heavy smoke arose, which, floating above the temple andits glen, caught the glare below, and ascended high into the air; andso still was the town, that the measured cadence of the recitationcould be heard, though not the words; while occasionally a burst ofmusic or solemn hymn suddenly broke the silence, which was otherwiseoppressive.
Radha heard her brother's voice when his turn came, and listening toit, wept silently. When should she see him again?--would absence curethe madness that now possessed him?
"Weep not, child," said Anunda, throwing her arm around her, andguessing her thoughts; "it is well he goes. When he departs, thou wilttrust us the more, and be dearer unto us."
Tara: A Mahratta Tale Page 58
