Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER LXVIII.

  It was a house something like their own at Tooljapoor. There was themaster's seat, with its flowers and holy text painted on it; theverandah open to the court; the thick curtains between the pillars letdown to exclude the night air, which was chill. The room was neat andscrupulously clean. She was once more in a Brahmun's house.

  Before Tara sat two women, both elderly. One a stout and matronlyfigure, with a grave but kind countenance, and grey hair neatlybraided, with heavy gold rings round her neck, wrists, and ankles,plainly but richly dressed, indicating rank and wealth; the otherevidently a widow, clad in coarse white serge, her head clean shaved,and her wrists, ankles, and neck without any ornaments. She had strongcoarse features, much wrinkled, small piercing eyes deep set in herhead, and her skin was flaccid and shrivelled. She was the eldersister of the Envoy, and lived with him a life of austere penance andprivation, and, as a Hindu widow, was a pattern of scrupulous attentionto the rules of her faith. Neither rose to meet her.

  Tara advanced and touched their feet in token of reverential submissionand salutation. By the lady, whose evident rank had attracted Tarafirst, the action was received at least without repugnance, and perhapswith interest; but by the other with marked aversion--she drew back herfeet as though to prevent pollution, and shrank aside, evidently toavoid contact.

  "Thou art welcome, daughter of Vyas Shastree," said the one: "peace bewith thee."

  "And that gilded thing is called a widow and a Moorlee!" cried theother, with a scornful glance at Tara. "O sister, admit her not! Whyhas she any hair? Why is she more like a bride than a widow?--a harlotrather than a virtuous woman?"

  "I am a widow and an orphan," returned Tara meekly, sinking down andtrembling violently, as she addressed the first speaker. "I have beensaved from dishonour, lady. O be kind to me! I have no one on earth toprotect me now. They are all gone--all--and may God help me!"

  "Your mother was one of the Durpeys of Wye, was she not?" asked theEnvoy's wife, whose name was Amba Bye. "Do they know of thee?"

  "I do not know, lady," returned Tara; "they have never been to us, norwe to them; but my mother was a Durpey, and used to speak of them."

  "Her father lately married that wild sister of Moro Trimmul's, andSukya Bye is sure to know her," said the widow.

  "O, not to her!--not to her!" cried Tara passionately--"do not giveme to her? I beseech you by your honour, by your children, lady, byall you love on earth, not to give me to her. Do with me as ye willyourselves, ye are matrons, but----"

  "And why not, girl?" asked the widow, interrupting her.

  "Peace! Pudma Bye," said her brother, now entering, and seeing that hissister's question had caused pain, "the girl hath had a sore trial;listen to her, ere thou art hard on her. Speak, daughter, let us knowfrom thine own lips how and why thou wast suffering violence from MoroTrimmul."

  "From Moro Trimmul!" exclaimed both ladies in a breath.

  "Yes, from him did I rescue her, sister, else she had fared badly, Ifear," returned the Envoy. "A violent and wicked man,--who must bebrought before the council, to prevent further scandal. But speak,daughter,--thy name?"

  "Tara."

  "Tara: well, fear not. Amba Bye is strict, but kind. Speak truly, welisten."

  And Tara told her little story: how she had become a priestess whenthe goddess called her; what she knew of holy books; how she had beencarried off from the temple by Moro Trimmul, and how he had persecutedher before. How she was taken by Fazil Khan, and had been saved by himfrom the King's harem at Beejapoor. Finally, how they had treated herwith honour and respect, and were taking her to her only refuge at Wye.

  Ah, it was a sad story now: a glimpse of a heaven of delight now shutout from her for ever! She saw the stony eyes of the grim old widowwandering over her, from her glossy braided hair and the garland ofjessamine flowers which Zyna had put into it just before they leftcamp, to the gold ornaments about her neck which Zyna would have herwear; and, above all, to the silken saree, and the golden anklets whichFazil liked, because the tiny bells to them clashed so musically asshe walked. Over and over again, as she told her simple story, and wasbelieved by the Baba Sahib and his wife, did his sister evince decidedunbelief and scorn. But at the last her brother rebuked her.

  "I rescued her myself from violence," he said, "and what she tellsme confirms her whole story. Peace, Pudma! one so helpless and sobeautiful should have thy pity, not thy scorn."

  "Let her have her head shaved, and be such as I am; let her live withme, and bathe in cold water before dawn; let her say the name of God onher beads a thousand times an hour during the night; let her do menialservice," cried the widow rapidly; "and then, if she can do thesethings, brother, she is a Brahmun widow, and true; else cast her outto the Mussulmans with whom she lived. Art thou ready to do all this,girl?" she continued, stretching out her long skinny flaccid arm, whichwas naked to the shoulder, and showed that the serge about her was heronly garment.

  Tara's spirit sank within her. Yes, such as the being before her wereHindu widows--such they would claim her to be. "It were better if Iwere dead," she groaned--"better if I were dead."

  "Better if thou wast dead!" echoed the widow. "Ay, much better. Suchas thou art, were better dead than live, in a harlot's guise, to be adisgrace to the faith!"

  "Nay, peace, sister," said her brother--"I will have none of this.While she is with us, she is our guest and daughter, and shall be caredfor tenderly. Take her away, Amba, and let her rest. I will see AfzoolKhan at the Durbar to-morrow, and inquire if what she says be true; butmy heart already tells me it is so."

  Amba Bye rose and said a few soothing words to Tara as she stood overher and raised her up. "Come," she said, "I will not harm thee--come."And Tara rose and followed her to an inner room. The old lady hadperhaps been afraid of her sister-in-law, or she was softened by Tara'sbeauty and grief, for, as she closed the door, she sat down and tookher to her heart, laying her head on her bosom. "Thou art a gentlelamb," she said, stroking her head. "God help thee, child," and Taraclung to the kind heart, and felt, as it were, loving arms once moreclosed around her.

  That night she slept with Amba Bye. Her sleep was at first broken,and full of fearful dreams; but wearied nature and youth in the endobtained their mastery over her, and she sank into a deep slumber,--sodeep, that the sun was high in the morning ere she awoke.

  It had been a weary time to Zyna, Lurlee, and the Khan's household,and even the Khan and the priest sat up far into the night, speakingof Tara. No one had slept. As to Fazil, he, with Shere Khan, Lukshmun,and a body of horse, rode round the country for miles, all throughthe night, seeking Tara. No one dared speak to him, and the men hadnever seen him so excited before. He and Lukshmun, whose activity evensurpassed his own, had stopped every palankeen; every cart or carriagewhich was covered; every veiled female they could see. Villages hadbeen searched also, but no trace of Tara was found--none; and Fazilreturned home dejected and worn out, only, however, to change his horseand the men, and to start once more with Lukshmun, who would not leavehim, on an errand equally fruitless. That day (Fazil was still absent)Baba Sahib sought Afzool Khan after the afternoon Durbar, and told himwhat had happened: how he had rescued Tara, how he had sent her on toWye with his wife and sister, and how she would be safe in his hands;and he heard in return how she was respected and loved in the Khan'sfamily.

  "We cannot allow her, Khan," he said kindly, "to remain with you, muchas you have respected her faith. It would be a scandal to Brahmuns,if the daughter of Vyas Shastree were the guest even of Afzool Khanand his household. It is not compatible with her purity or her honour,which, now her father is dead, her people must protect. We--that is, mywife and myself--have charged ourselves with her for the present; andher people, the Durpeys of Wye, are rich and devout,--they will receiveand protect her."

  Afzool Khan remonstrated as far as possible. Tara had grown to be afamiliar and beautiful object to him; but he felt the Brahmun wasright, and he must not connect her nam
e with his son's. He dare notmention to Lurlee what had been done, but he told Fazil, when hereturned, and so all knew of it.

  "At least she is safe and in honourable keeping," said Fazil, whenhe had heard all, "and for the rest, as God wills. But as for thatBrahmun, father, he escaped me once--it may not be again."

  "Look!" cried Lurlee to Zyna, who was sitting sobbing bitterly--"look!Had I only been careful, this would never have happened. It was Sundaynight, and Saturn ruled from the second hour of the first watch tothe end. Could anything be worse? We should not have moved at all. Mypearl, my love, she should not have left us! Hai! Hai! May the peace ofthe Prophet be with her, and the protection of Alla be upon her till wemeet again!"

  "Ameen! Ameen!" sighed Zyna, but she was not comforted, nor was Fazil.