Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER LIX.

  Fazil and Pahar Singh went out together into the street. The latter ledthe way through the gate and along the main streets of the town to itscentre, where a busy, motley scene now presented itself. The Amil, orlocal civil officer, was seated in his Kucheri, or hall of audience,surrounded by a crowd of people to whom he was giving orders for flour,grain, butter, sheep, forage, and the other countless necessities ofthe force which had so suddenly come upon him. They did not pausethere, but turned down the main street leading to the temple, thegilded spires and other portions of which appeared at the end of it,the craggy sides of the glen, and, beyond all, the precipices of theRam Durra, which were veiled in the blue morning vapour.

  Now there was no doubt of what had happened. The pavement of the bazar,worn smooth by the naked feet of thousands of pilgrims and devotees incenturies past, was stained with blood which, as they advanced, wasstill wet and slippery in many places. Already had the town scavengersbegun to wash it away, and were pouring vessels of water on the flagsand sweeping them with brooms. A few shops only were open for the saleof flour, butter, and groceries, the owners of which sat within, withscared faces, evidently in the direst terror.

  "They lay thick here," said Pahar Singh--the first words he had spoken,"but have been removed, and they are burying them yonder, outside, alltogether--infidels, as your father would say, and true believers. Butstay, Meah Sahib, there is one of my poor fellows lying here in a shop.I thought him dead, but he is alive as yet; let us look at him. A poorfellow," he said, repressing a sob; "a poor hunchback, but he was likea dog to me--not a man. Perhaps he may know me now, or he may be dead;let us see."

  Pahar Singh turned to the right into a small courtyard, in an openverandah of which several rough-looking men were sitting beside a bodylaid on the ground, and partly covered with a bloody sheet. They roseas the chief advanced, and saluted him.

  "How is he now, Nursinga?" asked Pahar Singh; "will he live? Rama,"he continued, bending over the man, whose eyes were evidently glazingfast, "Rama, dost thou know me--the master?"

  The man looked vacantly around, hearing the words, smiled, and feltabout with his hands, as if to clutch what it was denied him to see.Suddenly, and as the chief put his own hand into that which sought it,the dying eyes brightened, and met those of his master in a scared,wild gaze at first, but one which softened tenderly into a look of raptaffection. He tried to speak, but it was hopeless; to raise himself bydrawing his master's hand to him, and clasping that he had in both hisown--but in vain. The lips moved, and Pahar Singh bent his head down tolisten. The bystanders could hear nothing; but Pahar Singh said in hisear loudly, "Yes, it shall all be done--all; fear not."

  It was enough. Perhaps the man might have lingered a while if he hadnot been excited; but the old chief's words had suddenly rallied theflickering lamp of life. It had sparkled for a moment, and fell back,dull and smouldering, into the socket; the eyes again glazed, and theclasped hands relaxed their grasp, tried once more to recover it,failed, and fell powerless beside him, and the rugged bronzed featureswere fast growing into the strange majesty of Death.

  "It is no use staying," said the chief, drawing away his hand to brushthe tears from his eyes, "he will not know me again. Come, Meah; I,too, am growing a fool. See to him, all of you. If his brother come,well and good; if not, bury him decently, and not with the rest."

  "Have you any retainer who is loved and trusted as you would trust afaithful hound?" asked Pahar Singh, suddenly turning round as theywere walking out of the court. "Ah! I forget, dogs are impure to youMussulmans," he continued; "forgive me."

  "Nay, no forgiveness is needed," replied Fazil. "Yes, I have one astrue and faithful to me as that poor fellow was to you."

  "What is he?" asked the chief abruptly--"Mussulman or Hindu?"

  "Hindu," replied Fazil; "a Mahratta."

  "A Mahratta," cried the chief; "one of the enemies of your race? Imarvel, and yet am glad. Yes, be true to him and he will never deceiveyou; he will give his life for you. Only be true, as I have been tomine. Two in a month," he muttered to himself; "one there, one here;my best and truest. What matter, Meah?" he continued aloud; "sooner orlater the message reaches us all. Mine might have come last night, yetI am here."

  Was this the old Jogi of the temple of Beejapoor? the sordid loverof gold, the pitiless robber and murderer? A strange contradictionin character as in acts; and now, sobbing as he walked out into thestreet, Fazil could see that tears were wet on his cheek, and glistenedon the grizzled moustache where they had fallen.

  "He was shot here," said the chief, pausing at the gate, "whilebreaking it in with his axe, and the shot came from that loophole. WhenI got in, the man who fired it died with a blow where he sat, so thouwert avenged, my poor hound. But what use is it, Meah, now my slave isgone? Come; you have already seen enough of this misery, and what isbelow there is worse. Will you go on?"

  "Yes, I will go," returned Fazil. "I would know if one Vyas Shastreewas slain, with others."

  "Vyas Shastree, Meah!" cried the chief. "Why, he was in the temple.I saw him. Ah, the poor Shastree, I hope not, for I knew him well--alearned Brahmun, sir; indeed come, search for him is at least anobject."

  It was a terrible sight as they advanced. Why dwell on it? Many bodieshad been removed, and all the wounded; but many still remained, menand women together, as yet unclaimed, and there was blood everywhere,glistening and drying in the sun. Near the temple porch were severalbodies in a heap. Pahar Singh looked at them all narrowly, but theShastree was not among them. One of the temple attendants was sittingin the vestibule, weeping in stupid grief; the chief shook him roughly,roused him, and he got up.

  "Didst thou see Vyas Shastree?" he asked; "was he hurt last night?"

  "He was killed," said the man, "there," and he pointed to the entrance."He was fighting, and a negro killed him. Ere day broke, they took himup and carried him away."

  "Dead?" asked Fazil.

  "Dead," said the man,--"quite dead; I helped to put him upon the litterthey brought for him, and they have burned him by this time."

  "And his wife?" asked the chief, "Anunda Bye?"

  "Seek her at her house," said the man, turning away. "She was not here,nor Radha Bye either. His daughter Tara was here, but no one knows whatbecame of her."

  It was enough. The Shastree was dead. Another man who advanced frombehind the shrine said the same, and Fazil need ask no more. He lookedaround--the place was slippery with blood, and dark, except for a dimlamp in the shrine. He looked in,--the altar was bloody, and the image,its rich clothes torn and dabbled in blood, lay beneath, on its back,as it had fallen. The dim ray of the lamp fell upon it, upon a few goldornaments still about its neck and arms, and upon the weird ruby eyes,that seemed to him to glow with a fiendish expression of malice.

  "Evil spirit," he said, turning away, "if thou art in being among thedevils, thou art at least helpless to rise, or to avenge thyself--liethere for ever. Why does the blessed Alla suffer thy abomination?"

  "Come away," cried Pahar Singh to the young man. "Faugh! the place isevil; come--go not near the Mother, she may hurt thee."

  "Do you believe in her?" asked Fazil.

  "I fear her," was the reply; "she is very greedy and very terrible: shetakes life for life, and more besides. Come--we will see after thesewomen: I know the Shastree's house."

  Life for life, and more besides! Those words came back with a strangevividness upon Fazil's memory in after times. Then, they but excited ashudder of regret at the superstition which suggested them.

  "O that I had come up here, instead of going below!" said Fazil tohis companion. "Had I but known the place, I would have done so. O myfather, why was this done?"

  "It could not have been stayed, Meah. As they say in Persian,'Shooduni-Shooduni'--what is to be, is to be," returned Pahar Singh;"nay, for that matter, why did I bring your father and his men at all?Some of those pig-headed servants of Nimbalkur's began it by shuttingthe gate, and killing my po
or Rama; and after the Peer Sahib's cry of'Deen, Deen!' you might as well have tried to stop the Beema in floodas the men. All I could do was to save Nimbalkur and others, while thePeer was pulling down the Mother from her altar, and spitting on her.Aha! holy priest! we shall see who is strongest, the Mother or thee.Bless God for it, Meah, that thy father had nothing to do with that;and when the Peer proposed to send for cows to slay there, he would nothave it done."

  Fazil sighed. It was not that he feared the goddess Mother, though ofher power then, as now, there was an undefined dread among Mahomedans,and ceremonies of propitiation, and deprecation of evil, were oftenperformed privately even among the most strict in religious matters;but he dreaded the effect on the Mahratta people at large. No one couldknow of the true reason of Afzool Khan's advance on the town; theplunder and desecration of the temple would seem to all to have beenthe actual purpose; and the deed would produce a shudder of execration,he well knew, from one end of Maharastra to the other.

  Thus conversing, they reached the upper gate, where one of the men inattendance on the dying retainer met them. The tears on his face neededno speech to explain them. "He is dead," said the man; "he never spokeafterwards."

  "My poor fellow!" exclaimed Pahar Singh. "Ah! Meah, the best swordsman,the best rider--hunchback as he was--the best at all his weapons of allthat I have; and the truest heart too, rough and faithful. Well, nomatter now. Is Lukshmun there?" he continued.

  "No, master, he is not. We have sent for him."

  "Do not delay. Bury Rama at once. I do but accompany the young Khan;and then the horn will sound. Be quick."

  They passed on, turning to the left, into a street which ascended to ahigher level in the town. As they proceeded, evidences of plunder andviolence were but too visible. Here a patch of blood on the pavementstill wet--there portions of cloths,--brass and copper vessels droppedin flight,--doors broken in with axes, and the interior courts of suchhouses as were entered in dire confusion--women and men alike, weepingand wailing bitterly.

  "This is the Shastree's house, Meah," said Pahar Singh; "enter and see."

  There was no one in it. They went to the end of the courts, even tothat in which was the temple and Tara's garden, all so trim and neat.The body of an Abyssinian was lying among the flowers, and another of aMahratta near him. The sacred fire was still smouldering on the altar,and Pahar Singh reverently lifted some logs of wood, and put them onit. Here and there about the rooms were splashes of blood and marks ofviolence, but none of the room doors were open.

  "Their property is safe, Meah," said the chief; "but who are alive, andwho dead? There is no one here. Let us ask the neighbours."

  They inquired of several. One man said that Janoo Naeik and the townRamoosees had defended the house and beaten off plunderers; but theyknew nothing of the women.

  "Come," said Pahar Singh to Fazil, "we lose time here. Let us seekJanoo Naeik. I know him. He will be at the Kucheri, and will know;" andthey went.

  Janoo was found, but he had no idea of telling Pahar Singh, the robberchief, and a good-looking Mussulman, where he had hidden Anunda andRadha, who, now safely delivered from their night-watch on the ledge ofthe rock, had been guided by his son at early daylight over the hill tothe village of Afsinga, where they were in safety. Janoo had returnedto his post; and if Fazil and Pahar Singh had opened the kitchen doorthey would have found five of his men in it, who had watched themnarrowly, and were on guard over the house.

  To their united inquiries Janoo had but one answer,--the Abyssinianshad attacked the house, carried off the women, and murdered them."Alas, alas!" he said, pretending to weep bitterly, "they had not evenBrahmuns' rites. They were flung into the trench without, and buriedwith the rest. Alas, alas! and so beautiful as they were. Do ye doubt?Look, here are some ornaments of theirs which I am going to give to theSirkar," and he showed a small bundle tied up in a bloody cloth, thecontents of which chinked as he handled it.

  "We can do nothing more, Meah," said Pahar Singh.

  "My lord, I ate their salt--why should I tell a lie?" he returned, witha real expression of sorrow. "Go and see if they be in their house.""They are after no good," thought Janoo; "and if I could only findTara Bye, the Shastree would give me a gold kurra. At any rate, I haveprevented them asking more questions, I think."

  "Poor girl," thought Fazil, "she is desolate indeed--father, mother,all dead. Had they any relatives here?" he asked of the Ramoosee.

  "None, my lord. The Shastree's elder wife came from Wye in the Concan,they say; and the last one, Moro Trimmul's sister, also from thence.Here there is no one; and I would not tell them if there were," headded to himself. "What do they want with them?"

  "We had better go, Meah Sahib," said Pahar Singh. "I will but tellBoorhan-oo-deen the Naeik to seal up the house of the Shastree, andguard it from plunder, and join thee at thy father's. Do not wait forme."

  Fazil went on sadly. The state of the girl whom he had already rescuedfrom violence, affected him deeply. So beautiful, so strangelybeautiful to him, unaccustomed to see the higher classes of Hinduwomen. "O that Zyna was here," he thought. "She might be a sisterto her, and soothe away that grief. Who can break to her what hashappened?"

  As Pahar Singh had predicted, Fazil found his father and the Peer inthe act of dismissing the Mahratta sirdars, apparently with respect;for there was a silver bottle of uttar standing upon a salver, and atray with betel leaves on it, on the floor, in the centre of the room.Ibrahim Khan and several other officers were sitting around, and thepriest had apparently relaxed from his devotional position. A servanttook up the salver and tray as Fazil entered, and the chiefs preparedto rise at the signal, as did also the Khan.

  "Have we leave to depart, Khan Sahib?" said an elderly man, with longwhite moustaches.

  "Depart in peace," replied Afzool Khan. "I think you all understandnow, that it happened inadvertently. 'Shooduni-Shooduni,' youknow--what was to be, was to be; and what is done, is done. His Majestyshall hear favourably of your visit to me. Inshalla! he will besatisfied; and all intended fines and confiscations will be averted.Only for that Brahmun intriguer ye had been safe. Did the royal troopsever interfere with ye before? Mashalla, no! Ul-humd-ul-illa. No!Astagh-fur-oolla! No! and never will again."

  "And the bounty for restoration of the temple, Khan Sahib?" said theold chief inquiringly.

  "Ahem! Good. I will see about it; yes, I have no doubt the King willbe merciful. Go in peace," said the Khan decidedly; and, saluting themagain, they passed out.

  "You see they are satisfied, son," said the Khan quickly; "we have toldthem it could not have been helped, and they agree. Well, what didstthou see? Did Pahar Singh tell thee how they fired first?"

  "He did, father! he told me all, and I have seen all. I pray themerciful Alla never to show me such a sight again. O father, how manyhouses are desolate and in misery which were happy homes last nightbefore we came!"

  "Ameen! my son," returned the Khan, sighing: "yes, we all say so now.Do we not, Huzrut? But they fired first, and what was to be was to be!"

  "And the idol was overthrown; that image of the devil's mother," criedthe priest grimly. "Didst thou see that, Meah?"

  "I did," said Fazil, "and rejoiced, though those devilish red eyeshaunt me still."

  "I spat on them, Meah, while they glared at me from the ground," saidthe Peer savagely; "and I, too, see them still, flashing though thepriest's blood which gushed out upon them. But what fear, Meah, whatfear? What sayeth the holy book, chapter twenty-second? 'Verily theidols which ye provoke, beside God, can never create even a singlefly;' no, nor hurt one either, my son. Wherefore there is no fear--nofear; be comforted."

  Fazil thought the priest shuddered as he shrugged his shoulders, and,shutting his eyes, settled himself once more on his heels, and begantelling his beads with great devoutness. So a general silence fellamong them.