CHAPTER LXVI.
A pleasant life was it to Tara. The daily stages of a large armyencumbered with heavy materiel are necessarily slow at all times, andthe country roads were not as yet dry from the recent rains, so thatthe force could not hurry on. The Khan himself was in no haste. On thearrival of the Mahratta ambassadors he had received them courteously,and insisted upon their being the guests of the royal camp. They hadnot much to say, beyond general protestations of attachment. Theirmaster's demands were simple, they knew; but he would treat for themin person when he met the Khan. Meanwhile, supplies for the royalforces were abundant; the stages they arranged were shorter perhapsthan the Khan, and especially Fazil, approved of; but they found grainand forage provided everywhere, and the camp bazar had always theappearance of a busy fair.
On his own part, Afzool Khan, yielding to the persuasions of Sivaji'sagents, despatched an envoy of his own, the Brahmun Punto Gopinath,to Pertabgurh. Their master's mind, they said, would be relieved byit; and as Sivaji had evinced confidence in sending his own servantsunsolicited, so a similar mark of courtesy could hardly be refused.The Khan did not object to it. The Envoy received his instructions, toact as circumstances might require, leaving all points of detail forfuture arrangement; and Bulwunt Rao was placed in command of the escortwhich accompanied him. In this capacity he was safe against all localenemies; and he went the more willingly, as he trusted, under thisopportunity, to interest the Rajah in his own affairs.
So there was no hurry, and it was a pleasant life. Every day, ornearly so, there was a change; the force moved forward a few miles, orit halted; tents were pitched, thrown down, moved, and again pitchedin pleasant places; perhaps in some soft grassy plain spangled withflowers, or in a stubble field with the stacks of ripe grain standingaround them. The Khan's Durbar tent was open to all comers, where theleaders of the various bodies of troops met every day for business orceremonial visits, as it might be: behind it the private tents enclosedby a canvas wall, which afforded a large area. Before all, floated theroyal standard, and a place was cleared near it which was appropriatedfor public prayer. Five times in each day, if the force halted, did themusical chant of invitation to prayer resound from this spot; and asoften did the devout among the soldiery assemble there, and perform thestated devotions. Every afternoon the priest and other divines preachedto the people; and it was remarked that the sermons on the holy war,though they were continued at intervals, were of quieter character thanthey used to be at first.
Perhaps the religious zeal of the Peer had relaxed since the slaughterat Tooljapoor, and was satisfied with the fact of the idol having beenoverthrown and defiled. Perhaps the Khan supposed enough had been doneto terrify the Mahratta people, and that the rest would follow uponnegotiation.
There was very little change in the daily life: the early march, thehalt for the day, the household occupations, and then the pleasanttalk with Zyna and Lurlee. Her tales of the Hindu life, and of herhome pleasures and occupations, were told again and again by Tara,often with bitter tears, and yet told again and again, and heard bysympathizing friends.
Two different worlds, as it were, were thus brought together. What didthe simple Brahmun girl know of the grandeur of Mahomedan nobles, ofwhich only a faint rumour had ever reached her? To her unclean, shewould once have shuddered at nearer contact with them, however richor grand they might be. Now, how different! They had respected herhonour, and they also respected her faith; and every day her littlecooking-place was arranged, with water brought by a Brahmun for herbath and her drinking, which no one interfered with. Sometimes, Zynaand Lurlee would look on while the little maiden dressed her simplemeal, as she had often done at home,--amused, and wondering at herdexterity; and it was not long before the Khan himself was a petitionerfor some delicate specimen of her handiwork, which, it was remarked, heate with infinite relish, and pronounced better even than Kurreema'sefforts to the same end.
They procured the girl the books she loved, and eagerly, and withinfinite animation, she would read and expound sacred texts, which eventhe priest admitted contained at least moral and virtuous doctrine.Occasionally, too, he was unable to control himself, and he answeredthe little preacher from his own books, hurling at her texts translatedfrom the Koran into bad Mahratta; and half angry with, and half amusedby, the seeming petulance with which she resisted conversion, allowedher greater liberties, perhaps, than he had ever been known to submitto before from "an infidel."
"See," she would cry, "Huzrut! here are God's holy words to us poorHindus hundreds of thousands of years old, but yours are, after all,but a few hundreds. Surely the elder has precedence?" If she couldtranslate the beautiful Bhugwat Geeta to him, that book so full ofmystic religious doctrine, he could understand her better, she thought;but she had no words that he could comprehend, in which to convey thesense of the noble Sanscrit; and it must be confessed that her generalattempts in argument were failures.
Kind Tara! gentle Tara! was any servant ill,--and the cold air and dampearth gave many fevers,--who so ready with knowledge of simples as theBrahmun girl? who so watchful, who so careful? In turn she had tendedLurlee and Zyna, who suffered at first from the change and exposure incamp. Then Fazil grew ill too, and for several days could not ride. Shecould ride: she had never travelled in a palankeen in her life--herfather could not afford one: so she gave up her litter to him, androde a stout ambling palfrey of the Khan's which was gentle, and arelief on long marches from his heavier war-horse; and old Shere Khanand his men, her first escort from Tooljapoor, claimed the privilegeof guarding her as she rode, rapidly and fearlessly, and managed theactive horse with skill and grace.
Once Moro Trimmul saw her riding with this escort of heavily-armed men.She was wrapped in shawls, and had twisted one round her head like aturban, which covered her face all but her eyes. He concealed his ownface and person as she passed, but the fact that she was riding with sonoble a company to attend on her, disquieted him. "She is growing intofavour," he thought, "and is in danger. It is necessary to act beforewe reach Wye."
Whether Moro Trimmul was in camp or not, she had not thought toinquire. Fazil had told her once, with a very perceptible tone ofdisappointment, that he had been released, and had gone away. He wasnever seen in the camp, but, with Sivaji's envoys, put up in villagesnear where the force might halt. They did not vex her with his tale ofher having been taken away under her father's sanction, which Fazil,Lurlee, and Zyna had never believed, and by common consent the name ofthe Brahmun was never mentioned among them.
Ah, yes, a pleasant time indeed! What more delicious to a young girl'sheart than the consciousness of awakening love? Could she help it?did she desire it? Neither, perhaps; but it would come nevertheless:and there would come too, with all the persuasive adjuncts of her ownhelplessness and dependence, the sense of evident respect in which shewas held by Fazil, and his honourable reticence, even of speech withher. So a new life, a new desire for life, was growing within her, andincreased day by day. Did she endeavour to check it? Not then; it wastoo delicious.
Before it, the old home was fading away, the forms of father andmother already becoming dim and shadowy, as belonging to the past. Theold temple occupations, the preparation for daily duty, were beingsupplanted by other feelings, undecided as yet, but ineffably tender.Did she regret that these were growing into definite form in her ownheart? Not then. She had no certainty of what she thought, and if anyone, even Zyna, had asked her to define what was passing within her,she could not have done so.
O, the wondrous stirring of that new life, shutting out all the old!the gentle growing of an absorbing passion. If Fazil spoke to her, shetrembled; but not in fear. She had no fear of him. No matter what hesaid, she listened, and never replied. When he was ill, she took to himthe little soothing potions she had made, and, as he lay tossing withfever, was conscious that they would relieve thirst, and would not beforgotten. She could speak to him then, a word only, perhaps, to tellhim to be patient, that he would be relieved if he would b
e still. Eventhis was a fearful but an exquisite pleasure.
How often Zyna spoke of her brother! How precious he was to her; howbrave he was; how beautiful! Had Tara ever seen any one like him? No;those timid, loving eyes had never looked up to any one before, farless to such a one as Fazil. What did she know? She could only seethat there was, in her eyes, the godlike beauty the old poets wrote ofK[=a]mdeo--those soft, loving eyes which sometimes earnestly lookedinto hers, before which she dare not open her own. If he came into thetent accoutred, blazing with cloth-of-gold and steel armour, she fledat once, and from a distance watched Zyna embrace him, perhaps fastenan amulet upon his arm, or relieve him of his heavy clothing and armour.
If Fazil were absent, Tara and Zyna would often sit and talk of him.Poor little heart! how it fluttered then. She could not tell his sisterwhat rose to her lips, but, as her heart swelled, she felt as if shecould do some great thing for him or for Zyna--defend them, or avertevil from them--even if she died herself, it would be welcome. Yes, theold story--the old story!--the telling of which, in all its wondrousforms, will never finish here, or finish, but to be renewed hereafter!
Did Fazil perceive this? Not yet. He had a true gentleman's bestsafeguard against presumption, an innate modesty in regard to women,which prevented it; and yet ... how often he watched the lithe andgraceful figure as it passed from his presence on some trifling errand,or the glowing intellectual face as it quivered under the excitement ofexplaining any portion of one of her old-world books which interestedher,--or the quiet, demure expression which gathered over it, as shesometimes brought--for she would allow no-one else to touch the vesselsshe cooked it in--her little daily contribution to his father'sdinner, and waited apart with folded arms till he had told her, with apleasant smile or joke, how much he liked it!
"Ah!" said Shere Khan, after Fazil's first journey in the palankeen,and as he lay, languid and weakened by his fever, in the outer tentwhere his retainers could attend on him--"whom hast thou sent us, Meah?They tell of Chandnee Begum of the Nizam Shahee's, but who, afterall, was one of our royal race,--that she rode with her army of truebelievers, and fought with her enemies. By Alla! this girl rides sothat it is hard to follow her; and we all say, there is that in hereyes which, had she a sword in her hand, nay, without it, would leadus, as only thou, or the Khan could lead us, Meah. Yes, she is a jewelof great price."
And Fazil liked to hear this; he liked to hear old Goolab exhaust hervocabulary of endearment upon Tara, as she sat by him, rubbing hisfeet when the fever oppressed him; and when, in those feverish dreamswhich are part of the disorder, strange fancies beset him, the Brahmungirl often became a prominent actor in those unreal scenes of hisimagination.
So it grew on. The habits of Eastern people do not admit of thosedemonstrations and protestations of love which form part of our socialhabits. But we have no warrant for saying that their feelings are theless ardent or permanent. We think not; and that there, as elsewhere,they progress silently, and are afterwards called into active exerciseby occasion and opportunity, and with possibly more energy and passionthan among ourselves.
When Lurlee had rallied the Brahmun girl sometimes upon her attachmentto her old faith, now, she said, hopeless,--and Zyna, throwing herarms round her as they sat together in the twilight after eveningprayer, besought her to give it up--to come to them as a sister, asa daughter,--and pleaded hard for this,--Tara was sorely tried. Whomhad she now to look to? whither was she going? If there were someof her mother's relatives at Wye,--and all she knew of them was thesurname,--what was she to do? Even were they there, what was she todo? Against her, ever rose up the hard cruel wall of Hindu widowhood;the servitude, the nearly inevitable dishonour among strangers, of herown faith, the hopeless weariness of an unloved and uncared-for life;and so, better death. All this had passed through her mind before, atTooljapoor, and then there was no alternative. Now?
O, how hard the new young life pleaded--as these thoughts passedthrough her mind--the certainty of love on the one hand, even as afriend or dependant, and of respect and protection from all evil, eventhough to minister to the old Khan should be her only occupation.This, and to see Fazil daily--to see Zyna--to be held to that roughold Lurlee's heart--to be the child, for so they called her, of allthe servants,--what had the other life to compare with this? Even ifshe found her people, what had they to offer her but misery? for so itseemed.
And when, one day (Wye was now only a few stages distant), Zyna toldher what they wished--what they all spoke of among themselves--whatFazil had proposed to his father,--and how the old Khan had at firstgently resisted it, desiring a high connection for his son, and yet hadconceded in the end;--when Lurlee came and pleaded too, and told her,and proved to her by the planets and the elements, that she would befortunate to the house and to Fazil--a loved and honoured wife,--whatcould she say? The new life now rose up within her vigorous anddefiant against all other thoughts; and its blessed shape--definite,honourable, irresistible, and delicious to contemplate--would not berepelled.
"Only give me time," she cried, hiding her burning face in Zyna'sbosom--"only give me time! It is so sudden--so unlooked-for." Then sheadded, after a pause, and looking up sadly, "I am his captive and hisslave; not of your people, lady, but a stranger, and an infidel, as thepriest says; impure among my own sect, and of no account but for shameand dishonour. As such, I cannot come to a noble house. Ah, do not mockme!"
"They say," returned Zyna, "that the Emperors of Delhi sought bridesfrom among the Rajpoots, and esteemed them as honourable and as nobleas themselves; and thou art a Brahmun, Tara, far purer and nobler thanthey. But no matter: thou art our own Tara, whom Alla hath sent to us,and whom we have received thankfully, for him whose heart no one asyet has touched. Let it be as we all will;" and Tara, at last, said itshould be so.
Was she grateful or happy, this desolate girl? O, far beyond either!All those dreamy imaginings which at home, among her books and flowers,had taken no definite shape, now assumed a palpable reality. In hereyes glorious, in her heart Fazil was supremely glorious also. Shedared not look at him now, even by stealth; but there was ever asweet assurance of his presence--of his care--of his thought, whichproduced a kind of ecstasy, filling her mind with a sublime devotionand innocent passion: often filling her eyes, too, causing a strangelytight feeling at her heart as if she could not breathe, and then a deepsigh as her tears welled over; and she hoped, with an almost deliriousjoy, that she was to belong to him by-and-by: no matter how far distantit might be,--only to belong to him, and be for ever with him.
And so the time passed to them all. A pleasant life which, day by day,grew to be more absorbing to Tara, and caused indifference to outwardoccurrences. But had her enemy been idle?
The force marched late one day. Moro Trimmul had ascertained thatthe litters and followers generally, would not arrive in camp beforenightfall. It was dark, for there was no moon; and he laid his plansaccordingly. Day and night, he and Gunga, in various disguises, hadwatched about the Khan's tents, and had tried to get speech of theservants. He dare not come openly, except to the Khan's Durbar, wherehe heard nothing. He was nearly hopeless of success, when he understoodcasually that the evening march was determined upon. All the force wasnot to move; but some only with the Khan, for the sake of convenienceof supplies and water. It was a short stage--only four or five miles,and the Khan's tents were to precede the force. He and his family wereto remain in a village for the night, and several houses had beencleared for him. Thus much had Gunga picked up, and for once, fortuneseemed to favour their designs.
Fazil had recovered, and again rode with his men. Tara, therefore, oncemore occupied the litter, which was closed, and carried with thoseof Lurlee and Zyna. Had she continued to ride as she wished, nothingcould have happened. As it grew dark Moro Trimmul--with a small bodyof horsemen which he had detached from the Envoy's and kept about hisown person--followed Tara's litter at a distance, and yet so as not tointerfere with it. As it grew dark, and they neared the place where
they were to stop for the night, he observed that Tara's palankeen wasthe last: he knew it from the white devices sewn on the red cover;and he dexterously, yet apparently unpremeditatedly, pushed hishorsemen between it and the others, in a narrow lane, in which litters,horsemen, and soldiers were much crowded together. Then he stopped hismen, pretending there was obstruction in front; and so the litters ofLurlee and Zyna, which were surrounded by footguards and guides asusual, went on for some distance, never missing the one behind.
Moro Trimmul was exultant. At the next turn in the road, his ownservants, who had been instructed beforehand, went to the bearers ofTara's litter, pretending to have been seeking them, and, abusingthem roundly for their carelessness in remaining behind, bade themcome on rapidly. The men followed blindly; they knew they were to goto a village, and here was one; and, pressing forward, they presentlyreached a house to which they were directed.
"Put down the palankeen. Gosha! Gosha! Murdana! Murdana!" was criedby several voices; and a screen of cloth being stretched, as usual,from the palankeen to the entrance of the court, and the door of thelitter opened, Tara emerged from it unsuspiciously: then the door wasinstantly closed behind her, a thick shawl was thrown round her headwhich almost stifled her, and she felt herself taken up by powerfularms, and carried rapidly onwards. She struggled violently, but a voiceshe knew but too well, hissed into her ear through the shawl, "Bequiet, else I will kill you;" and for a moment she lost consciousness.
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