CHAPTER II.
BITS, BRIDLES, SPURS.
The letter, however, did not refer to Kate; though, curiously enough,the Englishwoman it concerned had been, and still was concealed in anAfghan's house. Kate, then, had not been the only Englishwoman inDelhi. There was a certain consolation in the thought, since what wasbeing done for one person by kindly natives might very well be donefor another. Besides, removed as he was now from the fret and strainof actual search, Jim Douglas admitted frankly to Major Hodson that hewas right in saying that Mrs. Erlton must either have come to an endof her troubles altogether, or have found friends better able,perhaps, than he to protect her.
Regarding the first possibility also Major Hodson was skeptical. Hehad hundreds of spies in the city. Such a piece of good luck as thediscovery of a Christian must have been noised abroad. They had notmentioned it; he did not, therefore, believe it had occurred. Hewould, however, inquire, and till the answer came it would be foolishto go back to the city. Jim Douglas admitted this also; but as thedays passed, the desire to return increased; especially when MajorErlton came to see him, which he did with dutiful regularity. JimDouglas could not help admiring him when he stood, stiff and square,thanking him as Englishmen thank their fellows for what they know tobe beyond thanks.
"I am sure no one could have done more, and I know I couldn't havedone a quarter so much; and I'm grateful," he said awkwardly. Thenwith the best intentions, born from a real pity for the haggard manwho sat on the edge of his cot looking as men do after a struggle ofweeks with malarial fever, he added, "And the luck has been a bitagainst you all the time, hasn't it?"
"As yet, perhaps," replied Jim Douglas, feeling inclined then andthere to start cityward, "but the game isn't over. When I go back----"
"Hodson says you could do no good," continued the big man, still withthe best intentions.
"I don't agree with him," retorted the other sharply.
"Perhaps not--but--but I wouldn't, if I were you. Or--rather--_I_should of course--only--you see it is different for me. She----" MajorErlton paused, finding it difficult to explain himself. The memory ofthat last letter he had written to Kate was always with him, makinghim feel she was not, in a way, his wife. He had never regretted it.He had scarcely thought what would happen if she came back from thedead, as it were, to answer it; for he hated thought. Even now thecomplexity of his emotions irritated him, and he broke through themalmost brutally. "She was my wife, you see. But you had nothing to dowith it; so you had better leave it alone. You've done enough already.And as I said before, I'm grateful."
So he had stalked away, leaving his hearer frowning. It was true. Theluck had been against him. But what right had it to be so? Above all,what right had that big brutal fellow to say so? There he was goingoff to win more distinction, no doubt. He would end by getting theVictoria Cross, and confound him! from what people said of him, hewould well deserve it.
While he? Even these two days had brought his failure home to him. Andyet he told himself, that if he had failed to save one Englishwoman,others had failed to save hundreds. Fresh as he was to the facts, theyseemed to him almost incredible. As he wandered round the Ridgeinspecting that rear-guard of graves, or sat talking to some of thethousand-and-odd sick and wounded in hospital, listening to endlesstales of courage, pluck, sheer dogged resistance, he realized at whata terrible cost that armed force, varying from three to six thousandmen, had simply clung to the rocks and looked at the city. Thereseemed enough heroism in it to have removed mountains; and coming uponhim, not in the monotonous sequence of day-to-day experience, but in asingle impression, the futility of it left him appalled. So did thenews of the world beyond Delhi, heard, reliably, for the first time.Briefly, England was everywhere on her defense. It seemed to him as iffrom that mad dream of conquest within the city he had passed to asstrange a dream of defeat. And why? The fire, unchecked at first, hadblazed up with fresh fuel in place after place and left?--Nothing. Nota single attempt to wrest the government of the country from us; noteven an organized resistance, when once the order to advance had beengiven. Had there been some mysterious influence abroad making menblind to the truth?
It was about to pass away if there had been, he felt, when on the14th, he watched John Nicholson re-enter the Ridge at the head of hiscolumn. And many others felt the same, without in any way disparagingthose who for long months of defense had borne the burden and heat ofthe day. They simply saw that Fate had sent a new factor into theproblem, that the old order was changing. The defense was to beattack.
And why not, with that reinforcement of fine fighting men? Played inby the band of the 8th, amid cheering and counter-cheering, whichalmost drowned the music, it seemed fit--as the joke ran--if not toface hell itself, at any rate to take _Pandymonium_. The 52d Regimentlooked like the mastiff to which its leader had likened it. The 2dSikhs were admittedly the biggest fellows ever seen. The wildMooltanee Horse sat their lean Beloochees with the loose security ofseat which tells of men born to the saddle.
Jim Douglas noted these things like his fellows; but what sent thatthrill of confidence through him was the look on many a face, as atsome pause or turn it caught a glimpse of the General's figure. It wasthat heroic figure itself, seen for the first time, riding ahead ofall with no unconsciousness of the attention it attracted! but with aself-reliant acceptance of the fact--as far from modesty as it wasfrom vanity--that here rode John Nicholson ready to do what JohnNicholson could do. But in the pale face, made paler by the darknessof the beard, there was more than this. There was an almost languidpatience as if the owner knew that the men around him said of him, "Ifever there is a desperate deed to do in India, John Nicholson is theman to do it," and was biding his time to fulfill their hopes.
The look haunted Jim Douglas all day, stimulating him strangely. Herewas a man, he felt, who was in the grip of Fate, but who gave back thegrip so firmly that his Fate could not escape him. Gave it backfrankly, freely, as one man might grip another's hand in friendship.And then he smiled, thinking that John Nicholson's hand-clasp would goa long way in giving anyone a help over a hard stile. If he had had alead-over like that after the smash came; if even now---- Idlethoughts, he told himself; and all because the picturesqueness of aman's outward appearance had taken his fancy, his imagination. For allhe knew, or was ever likely to know----
He had been sitting idly on the edge of his cot in the tiny tent MajorErlton had lent him, having in truth nothing better to do, and now avoice from the blaze and blare of the heat and light outside startledhim.
"May I come in--John Nicholson?"
He almost stammered in his surprise; but without waiting for more thana word the General walked in, alone. He was still in full uniform; andsurely no man could become it more, thought Jim Douglas involuntarily.
"I have heard your story, Mr. Douglas," he began in a sonorous butvery pleasant voice. "It is a curious one. And I was curious to seeyou. You must know so much." He paused, fixed his eyes in a perfectlyunembarassed stare on his host's face, then said suddenly, with a sortof old-fashioned courtesy: "Sit you down again, please; there isn't achair, I see; but the cot will stand two of us. If it doesn't it willbe clearly my fault." He smiled kindly. "Wounded too--I didn't knowthat."
"A scratch, sir," put in his hearer hastily, fighting shy even of thatcommiseration. "I had a little fever in the city; that is all."
The bright hazel eyes, with a hint of sunlight in them, took rather anabsent look. "I should like to have done it myself. I've tried thatsort of thing; but they always find me out."
"I fancy you must be rather difficult to disguise," began Jim Douglaswith a smile, when John Nicholson plunged straight into the heart ofthings.
"You must know a lot I want to know. Of course I've seen Hodson andhis letters; but this is different. First: Will the city fight?"
"As well as it knows how, and it knows better than it did."
"So I fancied. Hodson said not. By the way, h
e told me that youdeclared his Intelligence Department was simply perfect. And hisaccounts--I mean his information--wonderfully accurate."
"I did, indeed, sir," replied Jim Douglas, smiling again.
Nicholson gave him a sharp look. "And he is a wonderfully fine soldiertoo, sir; one of the finest we have. Wilson is sending him out thisafternoon to punish those Ringhars at Rohtuck. I don't know why Ishould present you with this information, Mr. Douglas?"
"Don't you, sir?" was the cool reply; "I think I do. Major Hodson mayhave his faults, sir, but the Ridge couldn't do without him. And I'mglad to hear he is going out. It is time we punished those chaps; timewe got some grip on the country again."
The General's face cleared. "Hm," he said, "you don't mince matters;but I don't think we lost much grip in the Punjab. And as forpunishments! Do you know over two thousand have been executedalready?"
"I don't, sir; though I knew Sir John's hand was out. But if you'llexcuse me, we don't want the hangings now--they can come by-and-by. Wewant to lick them--show them we are not really in a blind funk."
"You use strong language too, sir--very strong language."
"I did not say we _were_ in one----" began Jim Douglas eagerly, when avoice asking if General Nicholson were within interrupted him.
"He is," replied the sonorous voice calmly. "Come in, Hodson, and Ihope you are prepared to fight." The bright hazel eyes met JimDouglas' with a distinct twinkle in them; but Major Hodsonentering--a perfect blaze of scarlet and fawn and gold, loose, lank,lavish--gave the speech a different turn.
"I hope you'll excuse the intrusion, sir," he said saluting, as itwere, loudly, "but being certain I owed this piece of luck to yourkind offices, I ventured to follow you. And as for the fighting, sir,trust Hodson's Horse to give a good account of itself."
"I do, Major, I do," replied Nicholson gravely, despite the twinkle,"but at present I want you to fight Mr. Douglas for me. He suggests weare all in a blind funk."
With anyone else Jim Douglas might have refused this cool demand, forit was little else, that he should defend his statement against a manwho in himself was a refutation of it, who was a type of the mostreckless, dare-devil courage and dash; but the thought of that umpire,ready to give an overwhelming thrust at any time, roused his temperand pugnacity.
"I'm not conscious of being in one myself," said the Major, turningwith a swing and a brief "How do, Douglas." He was the most martial offigures in the last-developed uniform of the Flamingoes, or theRing-tailed Roarers, or the _Aloo Bokhara's_, as Hodson's levies werecalled indiscriminately during their lengthy process of dressevolution. "And what is more, I don't understand what you mean, sir!"
"General Nicholson does, I think," replied the other. "But I will gofurther than I did, sir," he added, facing the General boldly: "I onlysaid that the natives thought we were in a blind funk. I now assertthat they had a right to say so. We never stirred hand or foot for awhole month."
"Oh! I give you in Meerut," interrupted Hodson hastily. "It waspitiable. Our leaders lost their heads."
"Not only our leaders. We all lost them. From that moment to this itseems to me we have never been calm."
"Calm!" echoed Hodson disdainfully. "Who wants to be calm? Who wouldbe calm with those massacred women and children to avenge."
"Exactly so. The horrors of those ghastly murders got on our nerves,and no wonder. We exaggerated the position from the first; weexaggerate the dangers of it now."
"Of taking Delhi, you mean?" interrupted Nicholson dryly.
Jim Douglas smiled. "No, sir! Even you will find that difficult. Imeant the ultimate danger to our rule----"
"There you mistake utterly," put in Hodson magnificently. "We mean towin--we admit no danger. There isn't an Englishman, or, thank Heaven,an Englishwoman----"
"Is the crisis so desperate that we need levy the ladies?" asked hisadversary sarcastically. "Personally I want to leave them out of thequestion as much as I can. It is their intrusion into it which hasdone the mischief. I don't want to minimize these horrors; but if wecould forget those massacres----"
"Forget them! I hope to God every Englishman will remember them whenthe time comes to avenge them! Ay! and make the murderers rememberthem, too."
"If I had them in my power to-day," put in the sonorous voice, "andknew I was to die to-morrow, I would inflict the most excruciatingtortures I could think of on them with an easy conscience."
"Bravo! sir," cried Hodson, "and I'd do executioner gladly."
John Nicholson's face flinched slightly. "There is generally a commonhangman, I believe," he said; then turned on Jim Douglas with bentbrows: "And you, sir?"
"I would kill them, sir; as I would kill a mad dog in the quickest wayhandy; as I'd kill every man found with arms in his hands. Treason isa worse crime than murder to us now; and by God! if I tortured anyoneit would be the men who betrayed the garrison at Cawnpore. Yet eventhere, in our only real collapse, what has happened? It is reoccupiedalready--the road to it is hung with dead bodies. Havelock's march isone long procession of success. Yet we count ourselves beleaguered.Why? I can't understand it! Where has an order to charge, to advanceboldly, met with a reverse? It seems to me that but for thesemassacres, this fear for women and children, we could hold our owngayly. Look at Lucknow----"
"Yes, Lucknow," assented Hodson savagely. "Sir Henry, the bravest,gentlest, dead! Women and children pent up--by Heaven! it's sickeningto think what may have happened."
John Nicholson shot a quick glance at Jim Douglas.
"It proves my contention," said the latter. "Think of it! Fifteenhundred, English and natives, in a weak position with not even apalisade in some places between them and five times their number oftrained soldiers backed by the wildest, wickedest, wantonest townrabble in India! What does it mean? Make every one of the fifteenhundred a paladin, and, by Heaven! they are heroes. Still, what doesit mean?"
He spoke to the General, but he was silent.
"Mean?" echoed Hodson. "Palpably that the foe is contemptible. So heis. Pandy can't fight----"
"He fought well enough for us in the past. I know my regiment----" JimDouglas caught himself up hard. "I believe they will fight for usagain. The truth is that half, even of the army, does not want tofight, and the country does not mean fight at all."
"Delhi?" came the dry voice again.
"Delhi is exceptional. Besides, it can do nothing else now. Rememberwe condemned it, unheard, on the 8th of June."
"I told you that before, sir; didn't I?" put in Hodson quickly. "If wehad gone in on the 11th, as I suggested."
"You wouldn't have succeeded," replied Jim Douglas coolly. Nicholsonrose with a smile.
"Well, we are going to succeed now. So, good-luck in the meantime,Hodson. Put bit and bridle on the Ranghars. Show them we can't have'em disturbing the public peace, and kicking up futile rows. Eh--Mr.Douglas?"
"No fear, sir!" said Hodson effusively. "The Ring-tailed Roarers arenot in a blind funk. I only wish that I was as sure that thepoliticals will keep order when we've made it. I had to do it twiceover at Bhagput. And it is hard, sir, when one has fagged horses andmen to death, to be told one has exceeded orders----"
"If you served under me, Major Hodson," said the General with a suddenfreeze of formality, "that would be impossible. My instructions arealways to do everything that can be done."
Jim Douglas felt that he could well believe it, as with a regret thatthe interview was over, he held the flap of the tent aside for theimperial figure to pass out. But it lingered in the blaze of sunshineafter Major Hodson had jingled off.
"You are right in some things, Mr. Douglas," said the sonorous voicesuddenly: "I'd ask no finer soldiers than some of those against us. Byand by, unless I'm wrong, men of their stock will be our best warweapons; for, mind you, war is a primitive art and needs a primitivepeople. And the country isn't against us. If it were, we shouldn't bestanding here. It is too busy plowing, Mr. Douglas; this rain ispoints in our favor. As for the women and children--poor
souls"--hisvoice softened infinitely--"they have been in our way terribly;but--we shall fight all the better for that, by and by. Meanwhile wehave got to smash Delhi. The odds are bigger than they were first. ButBaird Smith will sap us in somehow, and then----" He paused, lookingkindly at Jim Douglas, and said, "You had better stop and go inwith--with the rest of us."
"I think not, sir----"
"Why? Because of that poor lady? Woman again--eh?"
"In a way; besides, I really have nothing else to do."
John Nicholson looked at him for a moment from head to foot; then saidsharply:
"I didn't know, sir. I give my personal staff plenty of work."
For an instant the offer took his hearer's breath away, and he stoodsilent.
"I'm afraid not, sir," he said at last, though from the first he hadknown what his answer would be. "I--I can't, that's the fact. I wascashiered from the army fifteen years ago."
General Nicholson stepped back, with sheer anger in his face. "Thenwhat do you mean, sir, by wearing Her Majesty's uniform?"
Jim Douglas looked down hastily on old Tiddu's staff properties, whichhe had quite forgotten. They had passed muster in the darkness of thetent, but here, in the sunlight, looked inconceivably worn, andshabby, and unreal. He smiled rather bitterly; then held out hissleeve to show the braiding.
"It's a general's coat, sir," he said defiantly. "God knows what oldduffer it belonged to; but I might have worn it first- instead ofsecond-hand, if I hadn't been a d----d young fool."
The splendid figure drew itself together formally, but the other'spride was up too, and so for a minute the two men faced each otherhonestly, Nicholson's eyes narrowing under their bent brows.
"What was it? A woman, I expect."
"Perhaps. I don't see that it matters."
A faint smile of approval rather took from the sternness of themilitary salute. "Not at all. That ends it, of course."
"Of course."
Not quite; for ere Jim Douglas could drop the curtain between himselfand that brilliant, successful figure, it had turned sharply and laida hand on his shoulder. A curiously characteristic hand--large, thin,smooth, and white as a woman's, with a grip in it beyond most men's.
"You have a vile habit of telling the truth to superior officers, Mr.Douglas. So have I. Shake hands on it."
With that hand on his shoulder, that clasp on his, Jim Douglas felt asif he were in the grip of Fate itself, and following John Nicholson'sexample, gave it back frankly, freely. So, suddenly the whole facebefore him melted into perfect friendliness. "Stick to it, man--stickto it! Save that poor lady--or--or kill somebody. It's what we are alldoing. As for the rest"--the smile was almost boyish--"I may get thesack myself before the general's coat. I'm insubordinate enough, theytell me--but I shall have taken Delhi first. So--so good-luck to you!"
As he walked away, he seemed to the eyes watching him bigger, moreking-like, more heroic than ever; perhaps because they were dim withtears. But as Jim Douglas went off with a new cheerfulness to seeHodson's Horse jingle out on their lesson of peace, he told himselfthat the old scoundrel, Tiddu, had once more been right. Nikalseyn hadthe Great Gift. He could take a man's heart out and look at it, andput it back sounder than it had been for years. He could put his ownheart into a whole camp and make it believe it was its own.
Such a clattering of hoofs and clinking of bits and bridles had beenheard often before, but never with such gay light-heartedness. Onlytwo days before a lesson had been given to the city. There had been nomore harrassing of pickets at night. Now the arm of the law was goingcoolly to reach out forty miles. It was a change indeed. And more thanJim Douglas watched the sun set red on the city wall that evening witha certain content in their hearts. As for him, he seemed still to feelthat grip, and hear the voice saying, "Stick to it, man, stick to it!Save that poor lady or kill somebody. It's what we are all doing."
He sat dreaming over the whole strange dream with a curious sense ofcomradeship and sympathy through it all, until the glow faded and leftthe city dark and stern beneath the storm-clouds which had beengathering all day.
Then he rose and went back to his tent cheerfully. He would run noneedless risks; he would not lose his head; but as soon as the doctorssaid it was safe, he would find and save Kate, or--_kill somebody_.That was the whole duty of man.
Kate, however, had already been found, or rather she had never beenlost; and when Tara, a few hours after Jim Douglas slipped out of thecity, had gone to the roof to fetch away her spinning wheel, andfinding the door padlocked on the inside, had in sheer bewildermenttried the effect of a signal knock, Kate had let her in as if, so poorTara told herself, it was all to begin over again.
All over again, even though she had spent those few hours of freedomin a perfect passion of purification, so that she might return to hersaintship once more.
The gold circlets were gone already, her head was shaven, the coarsewhite shroud had replaced the crimson scarf. Yet here was the memasking for the Huzoor, and setting her blood on fire with vaguejealousies.
She squatted down almost helplessly on the floor, answering all Kate'seager questions, until suddenly in the midst of it all she started toher feet, and flung up her arms in the old wild cry for righteousness,"I am suttee! before God! I am suttee!"
Then she had said with a gloomy calm, "I will bring the mem more foodand drink. But I must think. Tiddu is away; Soma will not help. I amalone; but I am suttee."
Kate, frightened at her wild eyes, felt relieved when she was leftalone, and inclined not to open the door to her again. She couldmanage, she told herself, as she had managed, for a few days, and bythat time Mr. Greyman would have come back. But as the long hoursdragged by, giving her endless opportunity of thought, she began toask herself why he should come back at all. She had not realized atfirst that he had escaped, that he was safe; that he was, as it were,quit of her. But he was, and he must remain so. A new decision, almosta content, came to her with the suggestion. She was busy in a momentover details. To begin with, no news must be sent. Then, in case hewere to return, she must leave the roof. Tara might do so much forher, especially if it was made clear that it was for the master'sbenefit. But Tara might never return. There had been that in hermanner which hinted at such a possibility, and the stores she hadbrought in had been unduly lavish. In that case, Kate told herself,she would creep out some night, go back to the Princess Farkhoonda,and see if she could not help. If not, there was always thealternative of ending everything by going into the streets boldly anddeclaring herself a Christian. But she would appeal to these two womenfirst.
And as she sat resolving this, the two women were cursing her in theirinmost hearts. For there had been no bangings of drums or thrumming ofsutaras on Newasi's roof these three days. Abool-Bukr had broken awayfrom her kind, detaining hand, and gone back to the intrigues of thePalace. So the Mufti's quarter benefited in decent quiet, during whichthe poor Princess began that process of weeping her eyes out, whichleft her blind at last. But not blind yet. And so she sat swayinggracefully before the book-rest, on which lay the Word of her God, hervoice quavering sometimes over the monotonous chant, as she tried todistill comfort to her own heart from the proposition that "He isMight and Right."
And far away in another quarter of the town Tara, crouched up before amere block of stone, half hidden in flowers, was telling her beadsfeverishly. "_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_" That was the form she used for awhole tragedy of appeal and aspiration, remorse, despair, and hope.And as she muttered on, looking dully at the little row of plattersshe had presented to the shrine that morning--going far beyondnecessity in her determination to be heard--the groups of women comingin to lay a fresh chaplet among the withered ones and give a "jow" tothe deep-toned bell hung in the archway in order to attract the god'sattention to their offering, paused to whisper among themselves of herpiety. While more than once a widow crept close to kiss the edge ofher veil humbly.
It was balm indeed! It was peace. The mem might starve, she toldherself
fiercely, but she would be suttee. After all the strain, andthe pain, and the wondering ache at her heart, she had come back toher own life. This she understood. Let the Huzoors keep to their own.This was hers.
The sun danced in motes through the branches of the peepul tree abovethe little shrine, the squirrels chirruped among them, the parrotschattered, sending a rain of soft little figs to fall with a faintsound on the hard stones, and still Tara counted her beads feverishly.
"_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram! Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_"
"Ari! sisters! she is a saint indeed. She was here at dawn and sheprays still," said the women, coming in the lengthening shadows withodd little bits of feastings. A handful of cocoa-nut chips, a platterof flour, a dish of curds, or a dab of butter.
"_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_"
And all the while poor Tara was thinking of the Huzoor's face, if heever found out that she had left the mem to starve. It was almost darkwhen she stood up, abandoning the useless struggle, so she waited tosee the sacred Circling of the Lights and get her little sip of holywater before she went back to her perch among the pigeons, to put onthe crimson scarf and the gold circlets again. Since it was hopelesstrying to be a saint till she had done what she had promised theHuzoor she would do. She must go back to the mem first.
But Kate, opening the door to her with eyes a-glitter and a wholecut-and-dried plan for the future, almost took her breath away, andreduced her into looking at the Englishwoman with a sort of fear.
"The mem will he suttee too," she said stupidly, after listening awhile. "The mem will shave her head and put away her jewels! The memwill wear a widow's shroud and sweep the floor, saying she comes fromBengal to serve the saint?"
"I do not care, Tara, how it is done. Perhaps you may have a betterplan. But we must prevent the master from finding me again. He hasdone too much for me as it is; you know he has," replied Kate, hereyes shining like stars with determination. "I only want you to savehim; that is all. You may take me away and kill me if you like; and ifyou won't help me to hide, I'll go out into the streets and let themkill me there. I will not have him risk his life for me again."
"_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_" said Tara under her breath. That settled it, andat dawn the next day Tara stood in her odd little perch above theshrine among the pigeons, looking down curiously at the mem who,wearied out by her long midnight walk through the city and all theexcitement of the day, had dozed off on a bare mat in the corner, herhead resting on her arm. Three months ago Kate could not have sleptwithout a pillow; now, as she lay on the hard ground, her face lookedsoft and peaceful in sheer honest dreamless sleep. But Tara had notslept; that was to be told from the anxious strain of her eyes. Shehad sat out since she had returned home, on her two square yards ofbalcony in the waning moonlight, looking down on the unseen shrine,hidden by the tall peepul tree whose branches she could almost touch.
Would the mem really be suttee? she had asked herself again and again.Would she do so much for the master? Would she--would she really shaveher head? A grim smile of incredulity came to Tara's face, then aquick, sharp frown of pain. If she did, she must care very much forthe Huzoor. Besides, she had no right to do it! The mems were neversuttee. They married again many times. And then this mem was marriedto someone else. No! she would never shave her head for a strange man.She might take off her jewels, she might even sweep the floor. Butshave her head? Never!
But supposing she did?
The oddest jumble of jealousy and approbation filled Tara's heart. So,as the yellow dawn broke, she bent over Kate.
"Wake, mem sahib!" she said, "wake. It is time to prepare for the day.It is time to get ready."
Kate started up, rubbing her eyes, wondering where she was; as intruth she well might, for she had never been in such a place before.The long, low slip of a room was absolutely empty save for a reed mator two; but every inch of it, floor, walls, ceiling, was freshlyplastered with mud. That on the floor was still wet, for Tarahad been at work on it already. Over each doorway hung a fadedchaplet, on each lintel was printed the mark of a bloody hand, andround and about, in broad finger-marks of red and white, ran theeternal _Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_ in Sanskrit letterings. In truth, Tara'sknowledge of secular and religious learning was strictly confined tothis sentence. There was a faint smell of incense in the room, risingfrom a tiny brazier sending up a blue spiral flame of smoke before atwo-inch high brass idol with an elephant's head which sat on a nichein the wall. It represented Eternal Wisdom. But Kate did not knowthis. Nor in a way did Tara. She only knew it was Gunesh-jee. Andoutside was the yellow dawn, the purple pigeons beginning to coo andsidle, the quivering hearts of the peepul leaves.
"I have everything ready for the mem," began Tara hurriedly, "if shewill take off her jewels."
"You must pull this one open for me, Tara," said Kate, holding out herarm with the gold bangle on it. "The master put it on for me, and Ihave never had it off since."
Tara knew that as well as she. Knew that the master must have put iton, since _she_ had not. Had, in fact, watched it with jealous eyesover and over again. And there was the mem without it, smiling overthe scantiness and the intricacies of a coarse cotton shroud.
"There is the hair yet," said Tara with quite a catch in her voice;"if the mem will undo the plaits, I will go round to the old poojarnisand get the loan of her razor--she only lives up the next stair."
"We shall have to snip it off first," said Kate quite eagerly, for, intruth, she was becoming interested in her own adventures, now that shehad, as it were, the control over them. "It is so long." She held up atress as she spoke. It was beautiful hair; soft, wavy, even, and thedye--unrenewed for days--had almost gone, leaving the coppery sheendistinct.
"She would never cut it off!" said Tara to herself as she went for therazor. No woman would ever shave her head willingly. Why! when she hadhad it done for the first time, she had screamed and fought. Hermother-in-law had held her hands, and----
She paused at the door as she re-entered, paralyzed by what she saw.Kate had found the knife Tara used for her limited cooking, and,seated on the ground cheerfully, was already surrounded by ripplinghair which she had cut off by clubbing it in her hand and sawing awayas a groom does at a horse's tail.
Tara's cry made her pause. The next moment the Rajpootni had snatchedthe knife from her and flung it one way, the razor another, and stoodbefore her with blazing eyes and heaving breast.
"It is foolishness!" she said fiercely. "The mems cannot be suttee. Iwill not have it."
Kate stared at her. "But I must----" she began.
"There is no must at all," interrupted Tara superbly; "I will findsome other way." And then she bent over quickly, and Kate felt herhands upon her hair. "There is plenty left," she said with a sigh ofrelief. "I will plait it up so that no one will see the difference."
And she did. She put the gold bangle on again also, and by dawn thenext day Kate found herself once more installed as a screened woman;but this time as a Hindoo lady under a vow of silence and solitude inthe hopes of securing a son for her lord through the intercession ofold Anunda, the Swami.
"I have told Sri Anunda," said Tara with a new respect in her manner."I had to trust someone. And he is as God. He would not hurt a fly."She paused, then went on with a tone of satisfaction, "But he says themem could not have been suttee, so that foolishness is well over."
"But what is to be done next, Tara?" asked Kate, looking inastonishment round the wide old garden, arched over by tall foresttrees, and set round with high walls, in which she found herself. Inthe faint dawn she could just see glimmering straight paths parcelingit out into squares; and she could hear the faint tinkle of the waterrunnels. "I can't surely stop here."
"The mem will only have to keep still all day in the darkest cornerwith her face to the wall," said Tara. "Sri Anunda will do the rest.And when Soma returns he must take the mem away before the thirtyregiments come and the trouble begins."
"Thirty regiments!" echoed Kate, startled.
"He and others have gone
out to see if it is true. They say so in thePalace; but it is full of lies," said Tara indifferently.
It was indeed. More than ever. But they began to need confirmation,and so there was big talk of action, and jingling of bits and bridlesand spurs in the city as well as in the camp. They were to interceptthe siege train from Firozpur; they were to get round to the rear ofthe Ridge and overwhelm it. They were to do everything save attack itin face.
And, meanwhile, other people besides Soma and such-like Sadduceansepoys had gone out to find the thirty regiments, and secret scoutsfrom the Palace were hunting about for someone to whom they mightdeliver a letter addressed
"To the Officers, Subadars, Chiefs, and others of the whole militaryforce coming from the Bombay Presidency:
"To the effect that the statement of the defeat of the Royal troops atDelhi is a false and lying fabrication contrived by contemptibleinfidels--the English. The true story is that nearly eighty or ninetythousand organized Military Troops, and nearly ten or fifteen thousandregular and other Cavalry, are now here in Delhi. The troops areconstantly engaged, night and day, in attacks on the infidels, andhave driven back their batteries from the Ridge. In three or fourdays, please God, the whole Ridge will be taken, when every one of thebase unbelievers will be sent to hell. You are, therefore, on seeingthis order, to use all endeavors to reach the Royal Presence, so,joining the Faithful, give proofs of zeal, and establish your renown.Consider this imperative."
But though they hunted high and low, east, north, south, and west, theRoyal scouts found no one to receive the order. So it came back toDelhi, damp and pulpy; for the rains had begun again, turning greattracts of country into marsh and bog, and generally wetting theblankets in which the sepoys kept guard sulkily.