CHAPTER XX
_RETRIBUTION_
Although, judged by the standard of such great battles as the King ofPrussia's, or the famous victories won by Marlborough over the French,this affair of Plassy may seem to be but a trifling skirmish, yet thecountry whose fate was decided upon that field, namely theSubahdarship of Bengal, Orissa, and Behar, is equal in magnitude tothe whole of King Frederic's dominions. In fact the blow struck thatday resounded throughout the entire East Indies, procuring for theEnglish an authority in every Court of Indostan, and for Mr. Clive therank of Omrah, with many rich presents, from the Great Mogul himself.
For eight miles we kept up the pursuit of the flying Moors, and onlyrested from sheer weariness. The next morning Meer Jaffier rode intoour camp at Daudpore, ill at ease. But Colonel Clive received him withfriendship, and caused him to be saluted as the Nabob of Bengal. Fromhim we learned the particulars of what had taken place on the previousday in Surajah Dowlah's camp.
The night before the battle the young Nabob had some suspicions thatthere was treachery going on round him. When the next morning he sawhis army halting at a distance from the English lines, and refusing tocome to close quarters, his suspicions were confirmed. One of hisgenerals on whom he most relied was slain soon after the artillerycombat commenced, and this further terrified him. Without quitting histent he sent for Meer Jaffier, whose division was posted on theextreme right, and implored him to save the day. He even took off histurban, than which there can be no greater humiliation for anOriental, and cast it at his uncle's feet, bidding him defend it. MeerJaffier left the tent, and at once despatched a message ofencouragement to Colonel Clive, which, however, never reached him.Shortly afterwards the unhappy Surajah Dowlah, vanquished by his ownfears, or, it may be, by the stings of his remorseful conscience,mounted a swift camel and fled, and this was the signal for thatgeneral movement of retreat which had given us the victory.
After Colonel Clive and the new Nabob had discussed the situation fora short time, it was agreed between them that Meer Jaffier shouldproceed at once with his force to the capital to check any attempt atrallying on the part of Surajah Dowlah. Colonel Clive, with theEnglish army, was to follow more slowly.
The moment I heard of these arrangements, I asked the Colonel forpermission to go forward in advance.
"Why, what do you desire to do?" he asked.
I showed him the written authority I had received from Meer Jaffier,and then, in as few words as possible, told him the story of Rupertand Marian, and of my resolution to deliver or avenge them.
"Go, my boy," he said when I had finished. "I will give you an orderin my own name, as well as that you have from the Meer Jaffier; andGod grant you may be in time to save your cousin and your sweetheartfrom the fury of that young tiger we have driven into his lair."
It was late at night that I came for the last time, riding on anelephant, into the city of Moorshedabad. Through the crowded streets Iurged my way, escorted by a handful of Meer Jaffier's horsemen, andseeing on every hand the tokens of the anarchy which had followed uponthe news of Plassy. The people were abroad, lights gleamed in everydirection, men ran hither and thither, and doors stood open with noone to guard the entrance.
As we drew near to the palace of the Nabob the confusion increased.From the shouts of the crowd in answer to our questions we gatheredthat Surajah Dowlah had entered the city secretly after his flightfrom the field of battle, that he had called his parasites around him,that there had been rumours of another levy and another battle, thathis heart had again failed him, that he was expected to fly oncemore, that he might at that very moment be making his escape beforethe approach of his successor.
As the palace came into view it was evident that if Surajah Dowlahwere not already gone, his presence had ceased to act as a restrainton his former servants. The courtyard was crammed with a strugglingthrong of palace menials and robbers out of the streets, all engagedin the work of plunder. Some were staggering down the steps, entangledin the folds of brocades and sumptuous shawls, others bore tulwars andscymetars encrusted with gems, some were stripping the gold off robes,others picking rubies and sapphires out of their sockets with thepoints of daggers, and secreting them about their persons. The groundwas strewn with plunder thrown away in favour of something morevaluable, rich vessels of green jade lay broken in one place, andsilken garments were trodden underfoot in another. And all this wasmerely the loot of the outer rooms of the palace, for the treasury wasnot yet touched.
At our approach the work ceased. The rioters began to escape, and theeunuchs and soldiers belonging to the palace shrank back to theirquarters. Leaving Meer Jaffier's officer to deal with them, Idismounted from my elephant and pressed my way through into thedeserted palace, taking with me only two men as a protection. I didnot stay to explore the empty halls and dismantled chambers, buthurried as fast as I could go into the garden, and on to thewell-remembered summer-house where I had caught my last glimpse ofMarian on that night a year ago. I ran up to the door at which we hadknocked the same night. It was standing open. I darted through, raninto each room, climbed the stair, and searched every nook and crannyabove. Not a trace of her I sought was there.
Without lingering a moment I went on and explored the other buildingsin the garden. In some of them I found frightened women, left alone,and expecting that I had come to slay them. But from none could I hearanything of the English captive. Here and there a frightened eunuch,dragged cowering from his hiding-place, recalled Marian's presence ayear before, but could or would tell me nothing of her fate. I ravedand stormed through the seraglio like one possessed, but it was all invain.
I turned back to the main building, by this time in the hands of thenew Nabob's servants, who were restoring it to some sort of order.They told me that Surajah Dowlah had got away an hour previously,having let himself down by a rope from a lattice into a boat on theriver, with only two attendants. When I showed them the papers I hadreceived from their master and also from Colonel Clive, they offeredme every assistance, and even joined in the search. During severalhours we ransacked every part of the palace, but found no signs ofeither of the English prisoners. The principal eunuchs were called andquestioned. At first they declined to speak, but when one of the Moorswith me threatened them with torture they became more communicative,and finally one of them asked if we had gone down into the secretdungeons.
This hint sent a cold shiver through my veins. I bade the eunuch leadthe way, and he conducted us through a secret door, down a narrowwinding stair into a horrible basement, constructed under the bed ofthe Ganges, where no light could come by day or night, except thatbrought by the torches of the gaolers. The place was like a maze, withbranching passages and cells, almost every one of which held somevictim of Oriental tyranny. But I had neither eyes nor thoughts forwhat was around me, as we hurried down passage after passage andopened door after door in the search for those two whom I had come tosave. Finally the eunuch stopped at a certain door at the very end ofthe darkest passage we had yet traversed. It was opened, and I lookedin.
I could not at first believe that what I beheld was a human being.Stretched out on the damp soil of the den lay a miserable, shrunkenobject, a thing like a skeleton wrapped in parchment, with the faintoutlines of a man. On our entrance it moved and just raised its head.
"What do you want?" it asked in Indostanee. And then in English itbreathed, "Is this the end?"
It was the voice of my cousin Rupert!
With a cry, I was on my knees by his side, lifting his woeful head inmy arms.
"Rupert! Look! It is your cousin Athelstane!"
He moved slowly and sat up. Then a shudder went through his attenuatedframe.
"Don't you see what they have done to me?" he groaned. "The devilshave put out my eyes!"
And the devils had. Rupert Gurney, the bold, handsome, careless,wicked, swaggering Rupert, whom I had loved and feared and hated allmy life, would never be bold nor handsome nor swaggering any more, andI should neve
r need to fear or hate him again. His wickedness had beenrewarded; his crimes had met a heavier retribution than any I had everthought to inflict. He had fallen into the hands of one compared towhom he had been but a beginner in iniquity; one fit of SurajahDowlah's cruel frenzy had struck upon him, and had left him brandedfor life.
Of Marian's fate he knew nothing. As soon as I had given directions tohave him carried up out of the dungeon I renewed my search for herwith a heart ready to burst at the thought of what I might find.
When we did find her I was almost relieved. After the frightfulapprehensions I had entertained, it seemed to be good fortune thatshe should be merely wasted away, without any outward disfigurement ofthat face that had been my beacon in dreams and raptures for thosevain years. In my own arms I bore her out of that doleful place and upinto the open air, through the palace now swarming with the stir andbustle of the newly arrived Nabob's Court, into the garden where theday was breaking and the birds were beginning to sing, and laid herdown, at her own desire, on a bed in that very summer-house where Ihad tried--ah, why had I failed?--to rescue her on the night thatseemed so long ago.
There for two days I never left her. Some of the eunuchs first, andafterwards some Indian women, came and waited on us, and brought usall the food we needed--and that was not much for either of us. Shelay still, saying little, and sometimes holding my hand while sheslept, and then waking up to shed tears upon it, and to murmur thegratitude which I had done so little to deserve. On the second day Ihad Rupert brought to her. He was better by this time, though stillvery weak, and just able to walk across the room with his arm restingin mine. I guided him to a seat beside her, and placed their hands inone another's, and then I came out quickly. I left them together; forif I had loved Marian, he had loved her too, and if my love for herhad been the stronger, so had been hers for him. And I could not feeljealousy any longer now that Marian was dying.
For this was the end of it all, the end of my stormy love and rivalryand my adventures in the Indian realms. Marian, the beautiful Marian,the woman whose fascination had led me so far, and involved me amongsuch strange events in such unwonted scenes, was dying. I had come toolate to save her, and all I had done or attempted for her sake hadbeen in vain. And when I knew this, when I looked back over thosethree troubled years and saw the outcome, there came borne in upon mymind a great resignation; I beheld myself as if I had been anotherperson, and the folly and wickedness that was in my heart stoodrevealed to me as they had never been even in those dreadful hours inthe Calcutta dungeon, when I sank down, as I believed, to die.Standing beside that bedside of the woman I had loved and sinned for,watching the grey stain of mortality creep out upon those gloriousfeatures, the world and all its prizes and possessions became to me amockery, and all that remained to comfort me was the memory of words Ihad read in that old Book at home: there, in that heathen palace,surrounded by the temples and trophies of false gods, was vouchsafedto me the light which I had refused to receive when I dwelt amongChristians in a Christian land, and the Divine mercy which hadfollowed me through so many wanderings overtook me at the last.
On the morning of the third day one of the Indian servants who waitedupon us took me aside and whispered something in my ear--somethingwhich made my heart beat fiercely and sent a tingle through my veins.
I left the summer-house and took my way into the palace. Through thestately halls and along the marble pavements, amid the servile crowdthat swarmed to pay homage to Meer Jaffier, I passed, and on till Icame to that hideous stair up which I had brought two of SurajahDowlah's victims such a short time before. On the way I gatheredsomething of what had taken place.
One of Surajah Dowlah's former subjects, a man whose ears the youngNabob had barbarously cut off for some offence, had recognised him inhis flight, and had betrayed him to the agents of his successor. Hewas brought back in chains to Moorshedabad and carried before MeerJaffier, at whose feet he flung himself, sobbing, and beseeching thathis miserable life might be spared. Meer Jaffier, partly moved by hisentreaties, partly restrained by regard for Colonel Clive, had shown awish to spare him. But in Meer Jaffier's son, young Meeram, the fallentyrant had found a spirit as ferocious and ungovernable as his own.This boy--for he was scarcely sixteen--thirsted for his cousin'sblood, and even attempted to stab him in Meer Jaffier's presence. MeerJaffier, afraid of his son, had ordered the prisoner to be removedinto the dungeons under a guard, and this was done. But the fury ofMeeram was not to be appeased. In the dark hours of the night, unknownto his father, he had descended into the dungeon, bribed or overawedthe guards, and----
They threw open the door. They held up their torches over a darkobject lying on the ground. There, with a dozen red rents in the bosomof his tunic, with blood thickly soaked into the dye of his silk robe,with blood caked upon the rubies and emeralds in his turban, I sawSurajah Dowlah, dead!
For some minutes I stood still in the presence of this impressiveretribution, recalling the brief but terrible career which had thustragically ended. There lay the cruellest despot of his age, thepractitioner of horrible debaucheries, the sworn enemy of the Englishname, who had driven us out of Bengal, and perpetrated thenever-to-be-forgotten massacre in which I had been so nearly included.I was but newly come out of the presence of two of his victims, andhere I beheld him cut off from light more surely than the man he hadblinded, dead while the woman he had murdered still breathed. I gazed,and was satisfied. The evil desires of vengeance which had tormentedme for so long were utterly extinguished. I beheld before me thejustice of high Heaven, and I came away, not exulting, but awed andsubdued.
I returned to Marian's bedside, and from that time I did not leaveher till the end. Occasionally she would talk to me in a low, sweetvoice, calling back memories of the old town of Yarmouth and thepleasant scenes of her youth. Once she spoke to me of myself.
"I have treated you very ill, Athelstane. I knew that I could neverrepay you for your love, but it made me proud to have it; I liked tocount upon your devotion to me, and I deceived and tempted you."
I tried to protest, but she would have it so.
"I have been wrong in everything I did to you," she said. "I oughtnever to have treated you as a friend, but as a stranger. Then youwould have grown out of your foolish passion, and have forgotten me;for, believe me, Athelstane, I was not fit for you, nor you for me.Beneath your hot temper and adventurous spirit, in which you resembleyour cousin, you are a very different nature. You are a Puritan atbottom, and your conscience will not let you rest except in sober,honest ways of life. It is better that you should take a wife fromamong your own people, one whose nature is in accord with what isdeepest and best in you, and not with what is worst. Forgive me,Athelstane, and forget me, as one that crossed your life by an evilchance and wrought you only harm."
But that, as I told her with tears, I never could do, nor wouldbelieve. And even now, when I look back across the years with calmervision and a wiser judgment, I am still glad that I knew and lovedMarian Rising, and never wish to root the memory of that wild romanceout of my heart.
She spoke to me also of my cousin Rupert, saying that she had long agoforgiven--indeed, I think she never was really able to resent--hiswrongs done towards her, and asking me to do the same. I assured herthat I had long ago buried all remains of ill-will between us, and Ipromised her that I would take him back to England with me, andendeavour to make his peace with his father at Lynn.
Soon afterwards she became very weak, and, seeing that the last momentwas approaching, I fetched Rupert in to her. He stood with his headbowed above the bed, his hair streaked with grey and the marks of theagony he had suffered on his face, while Marian caught hold of hishand, and, with the feeble remains of her strength, carried it to herlips and kissed it. In the doorway stood an Indian, gazing at thesight with solemn, unmoved visage. Outside we could hear the distantclash of the temple gongs in honour of some sacrifice, and through thelattices there was a glimpse of high white walls, with narrow slits ofwindows, shaded o
ver by the dark-green foliage of a teak tree. Was itall real? I asked myself, or some vision which had come to me in thenight, and from which I should awake to find myself abed in my ownlittle room at home in Brandon?
So the hour passed, and the last minute came.
"Pray for me, Athelstane," Marian whispered to me, "for I have been agreat sinner, and for myself I hardly dare to pray."
So I knelt down upon the floor, and the blind man opposite me did thesame; and as I used the familiar phrases which I had learnedunconsciously in my youth from many repetitions, a peace stole overthe room, and Rupert's great sobs ceased to shake him, and the hand Iheld in my own grew very still and cold. And presently I looked up,and saw that Marian was dead.