CHAPTER LVIII.
A weary delay and suspense had been endured till the day broke. Tarahad been told, in kind and respectful tones, by the young Khan, whoseprotection she had claimed, to rest in the palankeen, and he hadconsiderately shut the door to prevent annoyance to her by his men. Soshe sat undisturbed, but listening to the fearful din from the town andtemple, shuddering at every cry and shriek; and when all was at lastsilent, speculating upon the probable fate of her father, and of hermother and Radha, in a dreamy uncertainty, mingled with extreme terror.
What had happened? That the town had been surrounded by the King'stroops there could be no doubt; yet why the violence? Who could theyoung leader of the party be, by whom she had been arrested, who spokeher own Mahratta tongue so softly and so well? A strange thing, for hewas evidently a Mussulman of rank. He had looked so grand and beautifulas the torchlight flashed upon his bright steel morion and silvery coatof mail. She had never seen aught like him before. He might resemblethe god Ramchunder, she thought, when he went to battle with the demonRawun; and she shut her eyes at a vision at once so beautiful and soterrible. Her gentle mind was all confusion, mingled with dreadful andundefined anticipation of misery; yet one thing was clear, she hadbeen saved by that noble youth from Moro Trimmul and Gunga's uniteddesign--saved from worse than death.
The torch carried with her palankeen had been extinguished in thesurprise, but the torch-bearer had been detained, and she could see himsitting near the litter pouring a drop or two of oil upon it now andthen to keep it alight, yet without flaring. Once it did blaze up, andrevealed for an instant the faces of the bearers sitting on their hamsin a group, and the horsemen with Fazil in his bright armour standingaround them; but all were strangers, else she would have spokenagain--anything to divert her brooding thoughts and misery.
As the grey light of dawn increased she could see, through the smallVenetian blinds of the litter, that the royal horsemen stood in groupsat a short distance, all with their swords drawn. One party watchedMoro Trimmul, who, tightly swathed in a cotton sheet so that he couldnot use his arms, sat upon his horse, which was tied to another.Gradually she could see his features, gloomy and stern; savage, indeed,as he writhed in the bandage which he was powerless to remove. Nearhim, on a strong pony, sat the girl Gunga, covered with a coarse whitesheet, which had been thrown over her. A short stout man was holdingher pony's head, and his own horse stood beside her. Around were thesoldiers, all mounted, and apart from them their young leader, on apowerful white horse, which stood still, tossing its head, and champingits bit occasionally.
Past this figure, upon which her eyes rested wonderingly, as thegrowing daylight revealed it more fully, she looked up to the glen,and temple, and town, where all was still--a silence she thought likedeath. The usual sounds of waking life, the music at the temple, whichalways played as daylight broke, the earliest morning hymns, and clashof cymbals, were all wanting. They were at the mouth of the glen in asmall paddock, near an old temple; she knew the place perfectly, andmany a time had wandered there with her mother, or, with other girls,in search of flowers, and pieces of frankincense from the ancienttrees which grew among some ruined walls. If the service in the templehad not been interrupted, it would have been proceeding at this hour,and the sound would come clearly to the place where they were; but thestillness was not broken. The men about her occasionally conversed inlow tones or in whispers, but were for the most part silent.
It was now light enough to move, and the young Khan, calling to thebearers, bade them take up the litter and proceed. They were about todo so, when Tara again renewed her piteous appeal to him.
"O do not take me away!" she cried, "O release me! I can find my way upthe mountain. My father was in the temple; my mother and all my peoplelook for me. O noble sir, what am I to you? let me go; by your honour,do not deceive me!"
"Not so, lady," said Fazil, stooping from his horse towards the litter."It is not fit for thee to go alone after last night's disturbance; andthere are rough folk up yonder, for whom I will not answer with one sofair as thou art. No one ever relied in my honour that was deceived.Still trust, lady, and I will see thee safe amongst thy people; fearnot."
"O noble sir," said Tara sobbing, "I do trust, I will trust; but O,give me not to him yonder, who is bound. He would have carried me away,and dishonoured me. O sir, you have been my preserver from this danger,and I kiss your feet. My father is Vyas Shastree, the chief priest ofthe temple, and we are well known. Take me to him, or send for him, andhe and my mother will bless you. O noble sir, deceive not a helplessgirl!"
"Vyas Shastree!" cried Gopal Singh, who had overheard the latter partof Tara's passionate appeal; "then this, Meah Sahib, is his daughterTara, the strange new Moorlee; so beautiful that they say she bewitchesall men who see her. Art thou not she, O girl? art thou not Tara, theMoorlee? Speak truly."
"I am Tara," she replied, "but no Moorlee. I serve only in the temple."
"It is a lie," cried Gunga sharply; "she is a Moorlee, and one ofus; do not believe her. Was she not dancing in the temple when thedisturbance began? He carry her off, Meah Sahib?" she cried to FazilKhan, pointing to Moro Trimmul. "I tell you we had all arranged to gotogether, and because she is more dainty than I am, he got a palankeenfor her."
"Peace, girl," cried Fazil; "be not shameless."
"O noble sir," exclaimed Tara, interrupting him, "heed her not; whatmatter what she says? only take me to my father, then you will know thetruth. Indeed, indeed, I am no Moorlee like her; and forgive me forsaying so much, but you are kind, and so I speak."
"Who is this girl?" said Fazil sternly to Moro Trimmul. "What art thoudoing with her? Is she Vyas Shastree's daughter?"
"I give no answer; find out for yourself. Why do you ask of me?"replied Moro Trimmul sullenly. "Cut me to pieces, but you get no speechfrom me."
"It is no use, Meah, asking him," said Gopal Singh; "let us take her upinto the town, and see after her people."
"Not yet," returned Fazil. "My father will most likely encamp at thatvillage yonder, among the trees. Let these persons remain here, and wewill go and see what they have been doing in the town. Stay thou here,Shere Khan, with the men. See that no one disturbs this girl; keepthe others apart, and wait for us by the trees yonder. Fear not," hecontinued to Tara; "I will bring news of thy people; keep close withinthe palankeen, and no one can harm thee;" and so saying, he turned hishorse in the direction of the pass.
"Fear not, lady," said Shere Khan, a fine old soldier; "he will beas good as his word. Ay, look after him; the bravest, gentlest, mostfaithful master that ever men served under. Yes, trust to his honour;he will not deceive thee, he is too brave and too innocent for that."
For the time it was a sweet assurance to Tara, and one utterlyunexpected; for Mussulmans--or Toorks, as the Mahrattas calledthem--had hitherto been terrible people in her imagination; but thedread for her father lying at her heart had as yet no relief, and hersuspense and terror continued.
Leaving Tara with his party below, Fazil Khan, with Gopal Singh, andothers, rode up the pass, as soon as the rugged path could be safelytraversed. What had happened in the temple? It was clear there had beensome fighting--that Fazil had expected from the Mahratta chiefs; theywould hardly be taken without resistance, and there was an undefineddread lying at his heart, that if the fanatical spirit of the men hadbeen aroused by the Peer, some evil might have been done to the Hindupeople or to the temple. Again and again he regretted that that holyperson had not been sent on to Sholapoor with the main body of theforce, and blamed himself for not having foreseen mischief.
Fazil Khan by no means shared the grim detestation of Hindus asinfidels, in which his father gloried; and he had been no willinglistener to the denunciations poured out against them by the Peer andother preachers, in the sermons on the Jehad or religious war, whichhad been preached at the capital and in camp. True, his father and thePeer, as well as others, resented the mingling, under the green bannerof the faith, of Mahratta infidels wit
h Moslems; but Fazil knew themto be good and true soldiers; and his friendship for Bulwunt Rao, andexperience of his devotion, had changed the young Khan's feelingsvery materially. Perhaps, also, Bulwunt Rao's character had, in somerespects, softened the Khan's dislike of "infidels," "Kaffirs," as hecalled them; but on occasions, the old fanatical spirit would breakthrough all restraint, and urge him to deeds for which he had butlittle remorse. Too justly, therefore, Fazil feared this might havebeen such an occasion.
They gained the summit of the pass as the sun's rays, rising throughlines of cloud which hung over the eastern horizon, spread like a rosyfan into the blue and yellow sky above, tinging the lower lines ofcloud with tints of scarlet and gold, against which the dark purplemasses of mountain stretching into the plain stood out in bold relief.About the space between the town and the edge of the mountain, some ofthe Abyssinian horsemen were distributed in groups; while further onwere other bodies of men, some mounted, others leading their horsesup and down. The Nagarchees, or kettle-drummers of each body, werebeating the assembly vigorously, and single men were rapidly arrivingfrom other quarters and joining their divisions. Fazil rode on withhis companions, looking for somebody he knew, who might give him newsof his father, when, from behind a mass of buildings which formed thecorner of a street outside the town gate, a cavalcade approached, ledby men of his own Paigah, and in the midst of which rode his father,the Peer, and Ibrahim Khan, the leader of the Abyssinians, accompaniedby the tall, martial figure of Pahar Singh.
A hearty greeting ensued from all, and Fazil saw that his father andthe Peer were flushed with excitement, while in the severe threateningaspect of Pahar Singh, there was an expression which he could notdefine, which might be either habitual--the result of the night'sfatigue, or something more--perhaps grief.
"Come on, my son," cried the Khan cheerily; "we have ordered upprovisions for the men, and can rest here in the Gosai's Mutt, beforewe ride on to Sholapoor, and get some kicheri cooked, which our friendIbrahim Khan has promised to see after. Inshalla! we sent many aKaffir to hell last night before his time," he continued, twisting uphis moustaches, "and Tooljapoor will long remember firing upon AfzoolKhan's men and killing true believers! but we did not get that Brahmunof Sivaji's,--what was his name, Pahar Singh?--though he was there whenwe came; and that was a pity. M--M--M----"
"Moro Trimmul," said Pahar Singh, interposing.
"Ay, that was it--thanks, friend; and what hast thou done, my son?"
"I have taken him!--that Moro whom ye sought," returned Fazil, "withtwo women and their servants."
"Now Alla be praised!" cried the Peer, "that he fell into thy hands,Meah, for that crowns our work; and alive?"
"Alive and unhurt, Huzrut."
"Are you sure it is he?" asked Pahar Singh. "There are as many MoroTrimmuls as there are Tannajee Maloosrays!"
"Your nephew says it is. He, and a humpbacked servant or retainer ofyours, both knew him," returned Fazil.
"Yes, uncle," cried Gopal Singh, who now joined the group, "it is thetrue man; but he is sullen, and will not speak. We have left him below,safely bound; Lukshmun is watching him as a dog watches a rat, andthere are all the young Khan's men and ours with him."
"Go, bring him up," said Afzool Khan; "let us examine him, and take hisstatement."
"Good, my lord; my nephew will go for him, if a Hindu may be trusted,"said Pahar Singh, as Fazil thought, with a sneer.
"Certainly," replied the Khan, "let him be brought."
"And the women, Meah?" asked Gopal Singh.
"Not yet," he replied; "let the Brahmun come first;" and the young man,turning his horse, galloped towards the pass.
"What women?" asked the Khan carelessly.
"Two who were with him," replied his son. "I will tell you of themafterwards."
The house they were going to was only a few yards distant; Ibrahim Khanrode on, saluting them as he passed, and they dismounted and entered."Embrace me, son," said the Khan, before he seated himself, "and givethanks to God for the victory. Alla has been merciful, and has----"
"Yes, he has permitted his servants to do vengeance on the infidels,"said the Peer, interrupting Afzool Khan; "the idols of Satan have beenoverthrown, and their altar sprinkled with the blood of their infidelpriests."
"Protection of God!" cried Fazil; "the temple has not been harmed, norits people, I trust? We had no war against priests, father."
"Not the temple, Meah--not the temple," returned the Peer, rubbing hishands together complacently. "It would take a good deal of gunpowderto blow it up, and we have none; but for the rest, the work was welldone. Inshalla! they will not be able to renew their devil-worship;and when the King, on whom be peace, gives permission, I--I, Peer SyudBundagee--will come and destroy this house of idols, and build a mosqueupon it; and true believers will be feasted with cow's flesh slainwithin its precincts. Ul-humd-ul-illa, who hath given us the victory!"
"Father," said the young man gravely, "is it as he says?"
"Even so, my son, and thank God for it; and I have vowed to give athousand rupees to the work, in memory of the victory," replied AfzoolKhan.
Fazil turned away, sick at heart. What evil might not have been done?more, even, than his fears had anticipated.
"And thou hast no congratulation for thy father, Fazil?" asked theKhan, in a tone of disappointment.
"O father, a thousand that thou art safe through last night," criedFazil, "and----"
"No rejoicing for victory over the infidels?" asked the priest, witha sneer. "Thou hast a rare sympathy with them, I know, Meah Sahib; isthis seemly in a Mussulman?"
"Not with rebels, not with the King's enemies," returned Fazil quickly;"but I never warred against priests and women yet, nor did he. Whathath been done, father?"
"Well, son," replied the Khan, "they would not let us in after thoseMahratta rebels, and Pahar Singh there broke down the door; meanwhilesome of our men had been shot, for they fired first, and Huzrut therecried 'Deen, Deen!' and we all rushed in pell-mell and cleared thecourt; that is all." He said this apologetically, Fazil thought, andfeared to tell the rest.
"Will you come with me, Pahar Singh?" said the young man; "you know theplace; I would see it."
"Yes, I will come," said the chief, rising, and sighing as he replied;"perhaps it could not be helped, and yet some things were done whichwill stir Hindu minds sorely throughout the country. Come, Meah Sahib;it is not a pleasant sight, but I will go with you."
"Keep the prisoner till I return, father," continued Fazil; "I wouldfain hear what he says for himself."
"If thou wilt go, son, return quickly," replied the Khan, "but I hadrather thou didst not. What is the use of it? what is done is done;"and Fazil thought his father sighed.
"I would rather see the worst with my own eyes, father," replied Fazil,"than hear lies from others. Come, sir," he added to Pahar Singh, whowaited for him, "I attend you."
"He will be vexed at what he finds," said the Khan when Fazil was gone;"and it will distress his young heart. He has never seen the like, andit requires older eyes, like thine and mine, Huzrut, to look on suchsights unmoved."
"Ay, true," replied the Peer; "but one or two battle-fields will beenough to cure him, and methinks he is over-tender to infidels. Well,we shall see what he advises about this Brahmun, for he is clear incouncil. The man ought to die."
"He will not care about the men," said the Khan, musing abstractedly,"but about the women who are dead; and that loving heart of hismother's which she gave him, will be grieved. God knows I would nothave had it so."
"Ameen!" said the Peer, "nor I, Khan. But they were only Kaffirsafter all, and did not Feroze Shah, of blessed memory, make a pile ofinfidels' heads before the gate of Gulburgah fort?"
Afzool Khan did not answer--he appeared ill at ease: and the priest,taking his beads from his waist-band, settled himself on his heels,with his eyes shut, assuming an attitude of complacent meditation onthings divine, as they passed rapidly through his fingers.
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