Barclay of the Guides

  CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH

  Wolf and Jackal

  Next morning Ahmed found his camel contentedly munching at his stall,with no visible diminution of his hump; and his bales of goods wereranged in decent order along the walls, though when he came to examinethem he found that their contents were strangely mixed. But he saidnothing of that; he only expressed to the innkeeper his gratificationthat the night had seen such wonders wrought, and after a simplebreakfast he went out and, hiring no coolie this time, took a few of hismore costly wares to visit his old friend the darwan of Minghal Khan.Cordial greetings passed between them; the darwan had pleasantrecollections of the dainties with which he had been regaled by thisexcellent Pathan at his former visit. Then he asked why his friend hadbeen so long in hiding the light of his countenance from him. Ahmed toldhim that he had been ill, and made him laugh heartily at his story ofhow the rascally innkeeper had brought a dead camel to life and restoredstolen goods in the space of one night.

  "And now, good darwan," he said, "thinkest thou I might show some of mywares to your noble master? My business has halted while I was sick, andI must needs sell somewhat lest I starve."

  "Truly, my friend, it is an ill time. The great man has no money; we,his poor creatures who are not worthy to unloose his shoes, get nowages, and our khansaman sells more and more of our chattels day by dayto get the wherewithal to buy our poor food. And I fear me, even if theillustrious one were as rich as Nadir Shah of old renown, it would bevain to approach him now. But a little while ago there came a chaprasiwith news that his regiment had been rioting. Indeed (and this khabarwas whispered in my ear) the men tried last night to gain some littlesustenance from the plunder of some new men who have come--woe uponthem!--to this sorely crowded city. And by ill-hap they had the worse ofthe encounter; verily these new-comers sting like scorpions; and theirleader, one Asadullah, has gone to the palace to complain to theProtector of the Poor, our illustrious king. The great one is even nowclothing himself in haste to go also to the palace and acquaint theIllustrious with the truth of the matter. And so it is an ill time, as Isaid; neither his pocket nor his temper suits with business of thysort."

  "Hai! how wretched is my lot!" said Ahmed.

  "Here is the great one's horse," said the darwan, as a sais led theanimal from the courtyard and began to walk him up and down. "And beholdthe great one himself."

  He rose from his squatting posture at the door as Minghal came out. Thesubahdar was clearly in a state of great annoyance. He kicked aside thesmall bundle which Ahmed had laid on the ground, and bade him betakehimself to Jehannum.

  "Merciful one, be not wroth with the meanest of thy slaves," said Ahmed,salaaming humbly. "If I might but be allowed to see thy face at somemore convenient season! I have wares of great beauty and worth, evensuch as might delight the eyes of the hazur himself and----"

  "Bas, bas!" cried Minghal. "Get thee hence and trouble me not."

  He called to the sais to bring up his horse.

  "There is a shawl woven most marvellously with gold threads," Ahmedsaid, with an air of the greatest deference. "If the magnificent onewould but deign the wink of an eye----"

  "Enough, I say!" cried Minghal, with his foot in the stirrup. Then athought seemed to strike him. "Come to me to-morrow; I may then cast aneye on thy worthless trumpery."

  "Hazur, thy servant's heart leaps for joy," said Ahmed, salaaming, andMinghal sprang to the saddle.

  "Tell the khansaman to make ready a repast fit for princes against myreturn this night," he called to the darwan. "I shall not return untilthe sun goes down."

  Then he rode off on his clattering way to the palace.

  "Thou art favoured above all," said the darwan to Ahmed, "and, being ajust man, thou wilt not forget to let a little flow over from thy fullcup?"

  "My prosperity shall be thine, worthy darwan; and the thought of thegreat one's favour to come will be as a delicious perfume to me thisday."

  On leaving the darwan, Ahmed found his way to the quarters of the menwho had beaten off the attack of Minghal's regiment the night before. Hefelt some curiosity to see this warlike Pathan, named Asadullah, whosearrival had so soon been followed by a broil. When he reached the serai,he learnt that the chief had not yet returned from the palace; andknowing that Minghal had also gone thither to put his side of the storybefore the king, Ahmed guessed that the poor old monarch would have anuncomfortable morning.

  He spent the rest of the forenoon in wandering about the city, pickingup what news he could. Then he returned to his own serai for his middaymeal and a sleep; he foresaw that he might have little opportunity forrest during the night. On awaking, he went out to the bazar and bought astout hook, like those by which carcases are hung in butchers' shops. Ashe left the bazar, he overtook Minghal Khan's khansaman, who wasreturning with a load of provisions he had bought for his master'ssupper. Ahmed had wished more than once for an opportunity of conversingwith the khansaman, and the present moment seemed favourable.

  "Salaam, worthy khansaman," he said, stepping alongside the old man.

  "Salaam, but I know thee not, stranger, and I am in haste," was thereply.

  "Far be it from me to hinder one so venerable in years and so exalted inposition, yet since thy worthy master has deigned to say that he willlet his eye rest on my poor wares to-morrow, I would fain say arespectful word to the ruler of his household. It is a proud thing toserve one so high in the king's favour, and I warrant thou findest hisservice more to thy taste than that of him thou wast wont to serve--theaccursed Feringhi."

  The khansaman looked at him sharply.

  "What knowest thou--a banijara from the hills, if my eyes see aright--ofwhom I served?" he said.

  "Thy excellent darwan is a friend of mine," replied Ahmed, "and he hastold me one or two things. How thy heart must have rejoiced when thy oldmaster and all his family met their fate! Didst thou have a hand in it?"

  "Would that I had!" said the khansaman, with fervour. "Would that allthe dogs of Feringhis were even as that dog of a sahib under whose yokeI groaned!"

  "'Tis beyond doubt that all his family were slain? Had he many sons?"

  "None, save the child that now learns the vile learning of the Feringhisfar over sea."

  "That is pity. Maybe he had daughters?"

  "One pale-faced thing, of no account."

  "Without doubt she is dead also. Though indeed it is said that some ofthe Feringhis' women escaped, being preserved by some unworthy childrenof the Prophet. Even as I came hither I beheld such a pale-faced thingin the palki of a zamindar; not that I saw her, the palki being closed;but it was told me by the palki-wallahs. She had been seized out of thehands of her ayah and khitmutgar as she sought safety."

  Ahmed watched the khansaman narrowly as he said this; but there was nochange in the man's expression. It was that of complete indifference.

  "I perceive we are drawing near to the great one's house," he continued."Salaam aleikam!"

  In a small lean-to off the stable of the serai, Ahmed fastened the hookhe had bought to a short length of rope, and wound this about his bodybeneath his outer garment. Just after sunset he issued forth, carrying alathi, and made his way across the Chandni Chauk to the narrow lanewhich ran past the back of Minghal's house. When he reached the spot atwhich he had descended from the colonnade, he unwound the rope, andraised it by means of the lathi until it rested on the top of the wall.Then he climbed up the rope, and having disengaged the hook, let himselfdown on the other side by means of the lathi; he laid his simpleapparatus in a corner under the colonnade. While doing this he kept awary eye on the servants' quarters that looked on to the garden, takingcare to dodge the beam of light that issued from the kitchen, where, nodoubt, preparations were being made for Minghal Khan's evening meal.Then he stole across the garden, and lurked for a little by the door.

  Two hours later, Minghal Khan, having finished the more substantialportion of his meal, was reclining on cushions in his dining-room,eating sweetmeats and sippin
g sherbets with his guest, the Mirza AkbarSultan. Both were in good spirits. The sweetmeats were a portion of somescore hundredweight which the Kotwal had recently bought for thedelectation of the soldiers, and which the king himself had inspectedand deigned to taste. And a day or two before Akbar Sultan himself hadsummoned all the wealthy bankers of the city, at the instigation of thequeen, and by means in which he was an adept, had extorted from them8,000 rupees, a thousand of which he had immediately appropriated--washe not a prince?--handing five hundred, with princely generosity, to hisgood friend Minghal Khan.

  "Truly thou art much in my debt," said the prince; "not more for rupeesthan for my support in that matter of the old rogue."

  "I am thy unworthy servant, illustrious one," returned the other, "andall I have is thine. And how can I repay thee better than by helpingthee to somewhat of the old rogue's booty?"

  "Art thou sure he has this booty?"

  "My head upon it, illustrious one. For what purpose has he sought refugein this city? Only that his booty may not fall into the hand of theFeringhis, for assuredly he has no mind to fight them. Wah! thou camestto the palace at a fortunate hour,--fortunate for thee and me. That oldrogue Asadullah forestalled me there, and the king had waxed hot againstme, listening to his tale. He had that moment sent for me when Iarrived. And though when I put the matter before him his anger wassomewhat appeased, the issue would not have been so pleasing hadst thounot come to lend me the aid of thy persuasive voice. Wah! Did not theold rogue fume when the king turned to him and bade him cause no moretrouble! Didst thou mark his flaming eye? Didst thou hear him mutterwords of rage as he turned his back on the Pillar of State and strodefrom the presence? Wah! the king will favour him no more; never was hisdignity so scantly regarded."

  "But this booty of which thou speakest--how is one to obtain it? I havebled the shroffs; there will be a great wailing among them, and even Idare not do more for a while, lest the king, who is unstable as water,should again visit me with his displeasure."

  "Listen, illustrious one; I know of a way. Asadullah has not yet provedhimself. He has yet to go out and fight the Feringhis. Now, as thouknowest, I am a partaker in all Bakht Khan's counsels. We do littleagainst the Feringhis at present, but to-morrow is Bakr-Id, and whatmore fitting than that we should mark the great day with a terribleonslaught against the infidels? Asadullah must then go forth to fight;Bakht Khan shall order it; and while he is absent with his band, whateasier than to visit the serai where he lodges, and take the treasurethat he conceals there?"

  "But he will leave men to guard it."

  "A handful only, and what will they avail against thy faithful ones?And, moreover, may it not come to pass that Asadullah will be slain inthe fight? Then he will return not, and there will be none to say usnay. And if, perchance, he returns, can he gainsay what we have done forthe holy cause? Here are thousands of faithful ones perishing for lackof their just pay; is it not justice that ill-got treasures should betaken from the few and divided among the many?"

  "That is justice," said the prince. "It would be a good thing for thegreat number of the faithful that Asadullah should go forth to fight andnot return. But how can we be sure that Bakht Khan will send him forthand set him in the forefront of the battle?"

  "He will do so at thy persuasion, prince. As for me, it were best I heldmy peace, for the noise of this quarrel between the old rogue and me hasgone abroad, and if I were to propose this thing Bakht Khan mightsuspect me of a desire to serve my own ends more than the interests ofthe state. But with thee it is otherwise, and Bakht Khan will assuredlypay heed to thee."

  At this moment Bakht Khan was announced. After greetings, the princecunningly led the conversation to the desired point. He suggested thatthis new-comer was not a fighting-man at all.

  "He is a braggart," he said. "Lo, the father killed a tomtit, and theson, forsooth, is called a mighty archer! They talk much of thisAsadullah's might in war, but what has he done?"

  "I know a fighting-man when I see one, prince," said the sturdy general,"and if ever there was a fighting-man that so proved himself to me atthe first look, this Pathan is the man."

  "Bah!" sneered the prince. "A dog is a lion in his own lane. Dost thoujudge of sweetmeat by the loftiness of the shop where it is bought?"

  "Does the cat by the fire know the worth of a hunting-dog?" retortedBakht Khan, bridling. "I am a fighter, and I know the marks of afighter."

  "Shoes are proved on the feet, not on the last," said the prince. "Is itnot easy to prove the truth? Asadullah has not yet done battle with theEnglish. Let him go forth and show himself a man of war. As for me,verily I believe that when the time comes he will be found wanting. Didnot the fox say he would rather suffer a hundred hungers than behold onedog's face?"

  The commander-in-chief fell into the trap. He vowed that Asadullahshould indeed go forth and fight, and he was ready to wager that thePathan would acquit himself well. A great sortie was planned for thefollowing night--the night of Bakr-Id, the first of August--the day onwhich Abraham's sacrifice of Ishmael was commemorated by the slaying ofa bull, a great day among good Mohammedans. Asadullah should becommanded to lead an attack on one part of the British lines, and by hisconduct then should the dispute be decided. The three men sat longdiscussing the details of the proposed operations. It was late beforethe party broke up, and when the visitors had gone, and Minghal hadretired to bed, the khansaman came in sleepily to clear away theremnants of their refreshments and put out the lamp. He carried the trayinto the other room, listened, as if to make sure that all the householdwas in repose, then slid the panel of the almirah and disappeared in thehole in the wall, carrying his tray with him.

  A moment later, a figure crept out from beneath a divan against the wallof the dining-room. He crossed the landing to the opposite room, went tothe almirah, and slid back the panel. But then he was baulked--the wallappeared solid. There was no lock, no handle by which the door in itcould be opened. Ahmed felt up and down, from right to left, and wasalmost in despair, when the wall opened slowly, as of itself. He startedback, thinking the khansaman was returning; but finding that all wassilent he approached again. Unknowing, he had pressed a little woodenbutton cunningly let into the stone, and released the spring that heldthe slab in place. He crept through, and took the precaution of pushingthe stone back, then began to descend the steps of the narrow spiralstaircase on which he found himself. He counted the steps--they werethirty; and then he came to a low passage, as narrow as the staircase,through which only one person could pass at a time. It was so low thathe knocked his head against its roof in the darkness. But some few pacesin front of him he saw a thin line of light across the floor. Hestealthily approached; there was a door. He heard voices, but could notdistinguish words. Was the door fastened? He pushed it gently--ityielded.

  "If I could but be sure she was safe!" he heard a low voice say.

  "Without doubt she is safe, sahib," was the reply. The voice was thekhansaman's. Ahmed thrilled. The khansaman was faithful after all. Hehad his old master here in hiding. Who would have suspected so unlikelya place? And he was trying to cheer the doctor's despondency as to thefate of his daughter. Clearly he had not told him what Ahmed had said ofthe capture of the English girl by a zamindar.

  "You have no news of her?" said the first voice.

  "None, sahib; but that is not strange. The missy sahib would fear tosend a messenger, lest he should betray your presence. And it is hardernow than it was for folk to go in and out of the city. This very day theorder has gone forth that none shall enter or depart without a writtenword. A man--his name is Gordohan Dass, and he lives at Lattu--was goingout at the Delhi gate this morning in a shigram, and the guard stoppedhim and searched his cart, and there they found cartridges and bullets.They were but for his own protection, he declared. Nevertheless theybeat him, and took his cart and all that was in it, and sent him to theKotwali. There is little hope of news until the sahibs come and take thecity."

  "Will that ever be? What are
they doing? Will they never begin theassault?"

  "In Allah's good time, sahib. They are waiting on the Ridge; none canmove them. Why they wait so long who can tell? The people say in thecity that they are but five hundred now; that the colonels eat grainlike their horses; that three generals have killed themselves beforetheir troops for shame. But it cannot be true, sahib, for else why dothe sepoys always come back discomfited? No; Allah is great, and thesahibs will yet come and punish the evil-doers, and then all will bewell."

  "But it is so long! How long is it since you found me in the street, andbrought me here?"

  "Two moons and more, sahib."

  "Two months! And we have heard nothing all that time of Mary. I must go,Kaluja. In this dress none would recognize me; I can pass as one oftheir own hakims. You must help me to escape from the city."

  "Nay, sahib; it is not safe. And besides, you are too weak--you wouldfall in the street."

  "No, I am strong enough now. See, I can walk quite well."

  There was a brief silence; then Ahmed heard a groan.

  "Did I not say so, sahib? It would be folly; it would kill you. You mustbe patient."

  "I could be patient if I were certain of Mary's safety. Did not yourmessenger return? Are you sure he has not returned?"

  "I have neither seen nor heard of him, sahib."

  "It is this anxiety that is sapping my strength. My wounds were healedlong ago. Is there no one in this great city you can trust to go andcome again?"

  And then Ahmed pushed the door wide open, and entered the room.