Nothing new! Nothing new! Nowhere to hide when a reckoning's due, But right earns right, and wrong gets rue, With nothing deducted or given in lieu; And neither the War God, I, nor you Ever could make one lie come true! Vale, Ceasar!
As Yasmini herself had admitted, she headed from point to point after amanner of her own.
"You know where is Dar es Salaam?" she asked.
"East Africa," said King.
"How far is that from here?"
"Two or three thousand miles."
"And English war-ships watch the Persian Gulf and all the seas fromIndia to Aden?"
King nodded.
"Have the English any ships that dive under water?"
He nodded again.
"In these waters?"
"I think not. I'm not sure, but I think not."
"The grenades you have seen, and the rifles and cartridges were sent bythe Germans to Dar es Salaam, to suppress a rising of African natives.Does it begin to grow clear to you, my friend?"
He smiled as well as nodded this time.
"Muhammad Anim used to wait with a hundred women at a certain place onthe seashore. What he found on the beach there he made the women carryon their heads to Khinjan. And by the time he had hidden what he foundand returned from Khinjan to the beach, there were more things tofind and bring. So they worked, he and the Germans, for I know not howlong--with the English watching the seas as on land lean wolves comb thevalleys.
"Did you ever hear of the big whale in the Gulf?"
"No," said King. That was natural. There are as a rule about as manywhales as salmon in the Persian Gulf.
"A German who came to me in Delhi--he who first showed me pictures ofan underwater ship--said that at that time the officers and crew of onesuch ship were getting great practise. Do you suppose their practisemade whales take refuge in the Gulf?"
"How should I know, Princess?"
"Because I heard a story later, of an English cruiser on its way upthe Gulf, that collided with a whale. The shock of hitting it bent manysteel plates, and the cruiser had to put back for repair. It must havebeen a very big whale, for there was much oil on the sea for a long timeafterward. So I heard.
"And no more dynamite came--nor rifles--nor cartridges, although theGermans bad promised more. And orders for Muhammad Anim that had beensaid to come by sea came now by way of Bagdad, carried by pilgrimsreturning from the holy places. I know that because I intercepted aletter and threw its bearer into Earth's Drink to save Muhammad Anim thetrouble of asking questions."
"What were the terms of the German bargain?" King asked her. "Whatstipulations did they make?"
"With the tribes? None! They were too wise. A jihad was decided on inGermany's good time; and when that time should come ten rifles in the'Hills' and a thousand cartridges would mean not only a hundred deadEnglishmen, but ten times that number busily engaged. Why bargain whenthere was no need? A rifle is what it is. The 'Hills' are the 'Hills'!
"Tell me about your lamp oil, then," he said. "You burn enough oil inKhinjan Caves to light Bombay! That does not come by submarine. Thesirkar knows how much of everything goes up the Khyber. I have seenthe printed lists myself--a few hundred cans of kerosene--a few scoregallons of vegetable oil, and all bound for farther north. There isn'tenough oil pressed among the 'Hills' to keep these caves going for aday. Where does it all come from?"
She laughed, as a mother laughs at a child's questions, findingdelicious enjoyment in instructing him.
"There are three villages, not two days' march from Khabul, where menhave lived for centuries by pressing oil for Khinjan Caves," she said."The Sleeper fetched his oil thence. There are the bones of a camel in acave I did not show you, and beside the camel are the leather bags stillin which the oil was carried. Nowadays it comes in second-hand cansand drums. The Sleeper left gold in here. Those who kept the Sleeper'ssecret paid for the oil in gold. No Afghan troubled why oil was needed,so long as gold paid for it, until Abdurrahman heard the story. He madea ten-year-long effort to learn the secret, but he failed. When he cutoff the supply of oil for a time, there was A rebellion so close toKhabul gates that he thought better of it. Of gold and Abdurrahman, goldwas the stronger. And I know where the Sleeper dug his gold!"
They sat in silence for a long while after that, she looking at thetable, with its ink and pens and paper, and he thinking, with handsclasped round one knee; for it is wiser to think than to talk, even whena woman is near who can read thoughts that are not guarded.
"Most disillusionments come simply," King said at last. "D'you know,Princess, what has kept the sirkar from really believing in KhinjanCaves?"
She shook her head. "The gods!" she said. "The gods can blindfoldgovernments and whole peoples as easily as they can make us see!"
"It was the fact that they knew what provisions and what oil and whatnecessities of life went up the Khyber and came down it. They knew aplace such as this was said to be could not be. They knew it! They couldprove it!"
Yasmini nodded.
"Let it be a lesson to you, Princess!"
She stared, and her fiery-opal eyes began to change and glow. She beganto twist her golden hair round the dagger hilt again. But alwaysher feet were still on the footstool of the throne, as if sheknew--knew--knew that she stood on firm foundations. No sirkar everdoubted less than she, and the suggestions in King's little homily didnot please her. She looked toward the table again--then again into hiseyes.
"Athelstan!" she said. "It sounds like a king's name! What was theSleeper's name? I have often wondered! I found no name in all the booksabout Rome that seemed to fit him. None of the names I mouthed couldmake me dream as the sight of him could. But, Athelstan! That is aname like a king's! It seems to fit him, too! Was there such a name, inRome?"
"No," he said.
"What does it mean?" she asked him.
"Slow of resolution!"
She clapped her hands.
"Another sign!" she laughed. "The gods love me! There always is asign when I need one! Slow of resolution, art thou? I will speed thyresolution, Well-beloved! You were quick to change from King, of theKhyber Rifle Regiment, to Kurram Khan. Change now into my warrior--mydear lord--my King again!"
She rose, with arms outstretched to him. All her dancer's art, heruntamed poetry, her witchery, were expressed in a movement. Her eyesmelted as they met his. And since he stood up, too, for manner's sake,they were eye to eye again--almost lip to lip. Her sweet breath was inhis nostrils.
In another moment she was in his arms, clinging to him, kissing him. Andif any man has felt on his lips the kiss of all the scented glamour ofthe East, let him tell what King's sensations were. Let Ceasar, who waskissed by Cleopatra, come to life and talk of it!
King's arm is strong, and he did not stand like an idol. His head mightswim, but she, too, tasted the delirium of human passion loosed andgiven for a mad swift minute. If his heart swelled to bursting, so musthers have done.
"I have needed you!" she whispered. "I have been all alone! I haveneeded you!"
Then her lips sought his again, and neither spoke.
Neither knew how long it was before she began to understand that he, notshe, was winning. The human answer to her appeal was full. He gave herall she asked of admiration, kiss for kiss. And then--her arms did notcling so tightly, although his strong right arm was like a stanchion.Because he knew that he, not she, was winning, he picked her up in hisarms and kissed her as if she were a child. And then, because he knew hehad won, he set her on her feet on the footstool of the throne, and evenpitied her.
She felt the pity. As she tossed the hair back over her shoulder hereyes glowed with another meaning--dangerous--like a tiger's glare.
"You pity me? You think because I love you, you can feed my love on aplate to the Indian government? You think my love is a weapon to useagainst me? Your love for me may wait for a better time? You are not sowise as I thought you, Athelstan!"
But he knew he had won
. His heart was singing down inside him as it hadnot sung since he left India behind. But he stood quite humbly beforeher, for had he not kissed her?
"You think a kiss is the bond between us? You mistake! You forget! Thekiss, my Athelstan, was the fruit, not the seed! The seed came first! IfI loosed you--if I set you free--you would never dare go back to India!"
He scarcely heard her. He knew he had won. His heart was like a bird,fluttering wildly. He knew that the next step would be shown him, andfor the present he had time and grace to pity her, knowing how he wouldhave felt if she had won. Besides, he had kissed her, and he had notlied. Each kiss had been a tribute of admiration, for was she notsplendid--amazing--more to be desired than wine? He stood with bowedhead, lest the triumph in his eyes offend her. Yet if any one had askedhim how he knew that he had won, he never could have told.
"If you were to go back to India except as its conqueror, they wouldstrip the buttons from your uniform and tear your medals off and shootyou in the back against a wall! My signature is known in India and I amknown. What I write will be believed. Rewa Gunga shall take a letter.He shall take two--four--witnesses. He shall see them on their way andshall give them the letter when they reach the Khyber and shall sendthem into India with it. Have no fear. Bull-with-a-beard shall notintercept them, as I have intercepted his men. When Rewa Gunga shallreturn and tell me he saw my letter on its way down the Khyber, then weshall talk again about pity--you and I! Come!"
She took his arm, as if her threats had been caresses. Triumph shonefrom her eyes. She tossed her brave chin and laughed at him, onlyencouraged to greater daring by his attitude.
"Why don't you kill me?" she asked, and though his answer surprised her,it did not make her angry.
"It would do no good," he said simply.
"Would you kill me if you thought it would do good?"
"Certainly!" he said.
She laughed at that as if it were the greatest joke she had ever heard.It set her in the best humor possible, and by the time they reached theebony table and she had taken the pen and dipped it in the ink, she waschuckling to herself as if the one good joke had grown into a hundred.
She wrote in Urdu. It is likely that for all her knowledge of the spokenEnglish tongue she was not so swift or ready with the trick of writingit. She had said herself that a babu read English books to her aloud.But she wrote in Urdu with an easy flowing hand, and in two minutes shehad thrown sand on the letter and had given it to King to read. It wasnot like a woman's letter. It did not waste a word.
"Your Captain King has been too much trouble. He has taken money from the Germans. He adopted native dress. He called himself Kurram Khan. He slew his own brother at night in the Khyber Pass. These men will say that he carried the head to Khinjan, and their word is true, for I, Yasmini, saw. He used the head for a passport, to obtain admittance. He proclaims a jihad! He urges invasion of India! He held up his brother's head before five thousand men and boasted of the murder. The next you shall hear of your Captain King of the Khyber Rifles, he will be leading a jihad into India. You would have better trusted me. Yasmini."
He read it and passed it back to her.
"They will not disbelieve me," she said, triumphant as the very devilover a branded soul all hot. "They will be sure you are mad, and theywill believe the witnesses!"
He bowed. She sealed the letter and addressed it with only a scrawledmark on its outer cover. That, by the way, was utter insolence, for themark would be understood at any frontier post by the officer commanding.
"Rewa Gunga shall start with this to-day!" she said, with more amusementthan malice. After that she was still for a moment, watching his eyes,at a loss to understand his carelessness. He seemed strangely unabased.His folded arms were not defiant, but neither were they yielding.
"I love you, Athelstan!" she said. "Do you love me?"
"I think you are very beautiful, Princess!"
"Beautiful? I know I am beautiful. But is that all?"
"Clever!" he added.
She began to drum with the golden dagger hilt on the table, and tolook dangerous, which is not to infer by any means that she looked lesslovely.
"Do you love me?" she asked.
"Forgive me, Princess, but you forget. I was born east of Mecca, but myfolk were from the West. We are slower to love than some other nations.With us love is more often growth, less often surrender at first sight.I think you are wonderful."
She nodded and tucked the sealed letter in her bosom.
"It shall go," she said darkly, "and another letter with it. They lootedyour brother's body. In his pocket they found the note you wrote him,and that you asked him to destroy! That will be evidence. That willconvince! Come!"
He followed her through leather curtains again and down the darkpassage into the outer chamber; and the illusion was of walking behind agolden-haired Madonna to some shrine of Innocence. Her perfume was likeincense; her manner perfect reverence. She passed into the cave wherethe two dead bodies lay like a high priestess performing a rite.
Walking to the bed, she stood for minutes, gazing at the Sleeper andhis queen. And from the new angle from which King saw him the Sleeper'slikeness to himself was actually startling. Startling--weird--like anincantation were Yasmini's words when at last she spoke.
"Muhammad lied! He lied in his teeth! His sons have multiplied his lie!Siddhattha, whom men have called Gotama, the Buddha, was before Muhammadand he knew more! He told of the wheel of things, and there is a wheel!Yet, what knew the Buddha of the wheel? He who spoke of Dharma (thecustoms of the law) not knowing Dharma! This is true---Of old there wasa wish of the gods--of the old gods. And so these two were. There is awish again now of the old gods. So, are we two not as they two were? Itis the same wish, and lo! We are ready, this man and I. We will obey, yegods--ye old gods!"
She raised her arms and, going closer to the bed, stood there in anattitude of mystic reverence, giving and receiving blessings.
"Dear gods!" she prayed. "Dear old gods--older than these 'Hills'--showme in a vision what their fault was--why these two were ended before theend!
"I know all the other things ye have shown me. I know the world's sillycreeds have made it mad, and it must rend itself, and this man and Ishall reap where the nations sowed--if only we obey! Wherein, ye olddear gods, who love me, did these two disobey? I pray you, tell me in avision!"
She shook her head and sighed. Sadness seemed to have crept over her,like a cold mist from the night. It was as if she could dimly see herplans foredoomed, and yet hoped on in spite of it. The fatalism that shescorned as Muhammad's lie held her in its grip, and her natural couragefought with it. Womanlike, she turned to King in that minute andconfided to him her very inmost thoughts. And he, without an inkling asto how she must fail, yet knew that she must, and pitied her.
"Have you seen that breast under the armor?" she asked suddenly. "Comenearer! Come and look! Why did his breast decay and his body stay wholelike hers? Did she kill him? Was that a dagger-stab in his breast? Ifound perfume in these caves--great jars of it, and I use it always.It is better than temple incense and all the breath of gardens inthe spring! I have put it on slaughtered animals. Where the knife hastouched them, they decay--as that man's breast did--but the rest ofthem remains undecaying year after year. It was a knife, I think, thatpierced his breast. I think that scent is the preservative. Did she killhim? Was she jealous of him? How did she die? There is no mark on her!Athelstan--listen! I think he would have failed her! I think she stabbedhim rather than see him fail, and then swallowed poison! Afterward theirservants laid them there. She smiles in death because she knew the wheelwill turn and that death dies too! He looks grim because he knew lessthan she. It is always woman who understands and man who fails! I thinkshe stabbed him. She should have loved him better, and then there wouldhave been no need. I will love you better than she loved him!"
She turned and devoure
d him with her eyes, so that it needed all hismanhood to hold him back from being her slave that minute. For in thatminute she left no charm unexercised--sex--mesmerisrn--beauty--flattery(her eyes could flatter as a dumb dog's flatter a huntsman!)--graceunutterable-mystery--she used every art on him she knew. Yet he stoodthe test.
"Even if you fail me, Well-beloved, I will love you! The gods who gaveyou to me will know how to make you love; and lessons are to learn. Ifyou fail me I will forgive, knowing that in the end the gods will neverlet you fail me! You are mine, and Earth is ours, for the old godsintend it so!"
She seemed to expect him to take her in his arms again; but he stoodrespectfully and made no answer, nor any move. Grim and strong his jowlwas, like the Sleeper's, and the dark hair three days old on it softenednothing of its lines. His Roman nose and steady, dark, full eyessuggested no compromise. Yet he was good to look at. She had not liedwhen she said she loved him, and he understood her and was sorry. But hedid not look sorry, nor did he offer any argument to quench her love. Hewas a servant of the raj; his life and his love had been India'ssince the day he first buckled on his spurs, and Yasmini wouldn't haveunderstood that.
Nor did she understand that, even supposing he had loved her withall his heart, not on any conditions would he have admitted it untilabsolutely free, any more than that if she crucified him he would loveher the same, supposing that he loved her at all. Nor did she trust the"old gods" too well, or let them work unaided.
"Come with me, Athelstan!" she said. She took his arm--found littlejeweled slippers in a closet hewn in the wall--put them on and led himto the curtains he had entered by. She led him through them, and, red ascardinals in lamplight on the other side, they stood hand-in-hand, backto the leather, facing the unfathomable dark. Her fingers were so strongthat he could not have wrenched his own away without using the otherhand to help.
"Where are your shoes?" she asked him.
"At the foot of these steps, Princess."
"Can you see them yonder in the dark?"
"No."
"Can you guess where the darkness leads to?"
"No."
He shuddered and she chuckled.
"Could you return alone by the way Ismail brought you?"
"I think not."
"Will you try?"
"If I must. I am not afraid."
"You have heard the echo? Yes, I know you heard the echo. Hear itagain!"
She raised her head and howled like a wolf--like a lone wolf that hasfound no quarry--melancholy, mean, grown reckless with his hunger. Therewas a pause of nearly a minute. Then in the hideous darkness a phantomwolf-pack took up the howl in chorus, and for three long minutes therewas din beside which the voice of living wolves at war would be aslumber song. Ten times ghastlier than if it had been real, the choruswailed and ululated back and forth along immeasurable distances--becameone yell again--and went howling down into earth's bowels as if the lastof a phantom pack were left behind and yelling to be waited for.
When it ceased at last King was sweating.
"Nor am I afraid," she laughed, squeezing his hand yet tighter.
She led him down the steps, and at the foot told him to put on hisslippers, as if he were a child. Then, hurrying as if those opal eyesof hers were indifferent to dark or daylight, she picked her way amongboulders that he could feel but not see, along a floor that was onlysmooth in places, for a distance that was long enough by two or threetimes to lose him altogether.
When he looked back there was no sign of red lights behind him. And whenhe looked forward, there was a dim outer light in front and a whiff ofthe cool fresh air that presages the dawn!
She led him through a gap on to a ledge of rock that hung thousands offeet above the home of thunder, a ledge less than six feet wide, lessthan twenty long, tilted back toward the cliff. There they sat, watchingthe stars. And there they saw the dawn come.
Morning looks down into Khinjan hours after the sun has risen, becausethe precipices shut it out. But the peaks on every side are very beaconsof the range at the earliest peep of dawn. In silence they watched day'sherald touch the peaks with rosy jeweled fingers--she waiting as if sheexpected the marvel of it all to make King speak.
It was cold. She came and snuggled close to him, and it was so theywatched the sparkle of dawn's jewels die and the peaks grow gray again,she with an arm on his shoulder and strands of her golden hair blownpast his face.
"Of what are you thinking?" she asked him at last.
"Of India, Princess."
"What of India?"
"She lies helpless."
"Ah! You love India?"
"Yes."
"You shall love me better! You shall love me better than your life!Then, for love of me, you shall own the India you think you love! Thisletter shall go!" She tapped her bosom. "It is best to cut you off fromIndia first. You shall lose that you may win!"
She got up and stood in the gap, smiling mockingly, framed in thedarkness of the cave behind.
"I understand!" she said. "You think you are my enemy. Love and hatenever lived side by side. You shall see!"
Then in an instant she was gone, backward into the dark. He sat andwaited for her, cross-legged on the ledge. As daylight began to filterdownward he could dimly make out the waterfall, thundering like thewhelming of a world; he sat staring at it, trying to formulate a plan,until it dawned on him that he was nearly chilled to the bone. Then hegot up and stepped through the gap, too.
"Princess!" he called. Then louder, "Princess!"
When the echo of his own voice died, it was as if the ghoul who made theechoes had taken shape. A beard--red eye-rims--and a hook nose came outof the dark, and Ismail bared yellow teeth.
"Come!" he said. "Come, little hakim!"
Chapter XV