But neither Shaitan nor any other cheetah could keep up a great speed for more than a few minutes at the uttermost, so it was necessary that the hunting-leopard should be brought up as close as possible to his quarry before being unleashed. The common way of hunting with a cheetah is to bring it to the field of action on a cart, and then to leave it to stalk its own quarry; but this is by no means as sensational as the method that obtained in Kappilavatthu, where they were usually used to hunt gazelle and bustards. The hunters of the Rajah were accustomed to stalk their own quarry, leading the hooded cheetah until they were near enough to unleash the animal, and let it run the gazelle down in full view of the hidden spectators. Very considerable skill was necessary in doing this, for one false move by a clumsy hunter might easily startle a whole herd of gazelle, and a day’s sport might be lost. Perhaps the most difficult thing for the men who led the cheetahs was getting their quarry between them and the spectators, for this was the only way in which the whole of the chase could be watched. Sometimes, particularly at the beginning of the season, when the gazelle were less wary, a very big hunt would be arranged, and then the little deer would be driven slowly between the cheetahs and the spectators.
There was an immense plain near the Rajah’s summer palace which was one of the largest preserves of antelope and gazelle for a hundred miles round. One day at the beginning of the season, all the court moved out to the summer palace, and towards the end of the baggage-train the cheetahs with their keepers travelled in bullock carts.
Hussein left Shaitan in charge of Yussuf, and walked by the side of Jehangir, who might otherwise have been worried by the tumult and the noise. He spent a good deal of time every day with Jehangir, for neither of them had very much to do.
When everything had arrived at the great white summer palace, and Hussein had seen that both Jehangir and Shaitan were comfortable, he joined Yussuf, and they went with the rest of the hunters to the great plains where the gazelles were to be found, for there was to be a hunt the next day, and it was necessary for each man to know the place where he should hide, as it was going to be a hunt in which the gazelle were to be driven.
The men disposed themselves cunningly among the bushes so as not to disturb the feeding deer, and they whispered together.
‘It seems to me,’ said Yussuf, ‘that the gazelle are more timorous than formerly, and more watchful.’
‘Perhaps the villagers have been harrying them.’
‘After what happened last year they would never dare to come within miles of the preserves.’
‘That is true: it is more probable that the leopards have increased. I saw three half-grown cubs last year, but Khem Singh would not let me shoot them, saying that they would provide sport for the Rajah when they grew up.’
‘Khem Singh is the son of a noseless mother: he thinks of nothing but the honour that he will obtain by driving his leopards out to be shot — he never considers us.’
‘Inshallah: but did you hear the tale which is told of his wife’s cousin?’
‘A jocose tale, but I heard a better concerning his second son’s third wife …’
At length the plans for the hunt were completed, and it was decided that some picked deer should quietly be separated from the herd, and driven across the plain towards the Rajah’s stand. At various points the cheetahs would be concealed, one for each gazelle.
The next day Hussein arose early with the rest of the hunters and went to his appointed place. He led Shaitan, hooded, by a leash. From his place Hussein could see down the bush-covered slope to the sandy plain, and over it to the belt of trees where the spectators were.
He squatted down behind a bush. Shaitan sat beside him, sniffing the air eagerly. He slipped the cheetah’s hood off, and Shaitan looked round, taking his bearings. They could not see a sign of the other hunters, but Hussein knew that old Yussuf was a little way to the right, and another man to the left.
They waited nearly two hours for the Rajah and his party to arrive before anything began to happen. Hussein and Shaitan had settled down into a waking doze. After the Rajah had arrived the gazelle were driven slowly towards the belt of trees.
Hussein was staring vaguely out over the bushes, tickling Shaitan’s ears. All at once something in the bushes lower down the slope caught his eye. He looked more closely, and saw a tawny beast creeping flat on its belly between the bushes. At first he thought that it must be one of the cheetahs, but soon he saw that it was larger, more thick-set, and without a cheetah’s long neck: he realised that it must be a wild leopard. He watched it for some time before he was convinced; then, when he was sure that he was not mistaken, he decided to creep along to Yussuf, who would know what to do.
If the leopard were left undisturbed it might spoil the whole hunt by taking one of the gazelle, and heading the rest. Hussein put the hood on his cheetah’s head and tied the leash to a sapling. Then he began to crawl quietly towards Yussuf. But by the time he was half-way there the gazelle had come into that part of the plain which lay between the slope and the trees. Hussein was in a particularly exposed position; there was no good cover for yards, and if he moved or made a noise the gazelle would certainly be headed back. He crouched quite still, pressed against the ground: the little deer were uneasy, but not panicking; they were trotting in fairly close formation towards a patch of tall grass some way to Hussein’s right. From the corner of his eye Hussein could see that Yussuf had unleashed his cheetah, which was creeping down the slope towards the deer. Suddenly he saw three of the cheetahs break cover and dash into the open. The gazelle were flying before them right past the leopard. They were all going at a tremendous speed, with the cheetahs gaining a little. They were all quite close together. All at once the leopard gave a loud, hoarse scream and leapt into the midst of them. At first nothing could be seen for dust, and then Yussuf’s cheetah shot away from the bushes and charged into the cloud of dust. At its first leap the leopard had knocked one of the long-legged cheetahs over, and had cannoned into another. Instantly they all set upon the larger leopard, who disabled two so quickly that Hussein could hardly see what had happened before they fell. Yussuf had not seen the leopard, and could not see it for the dust; he thought that the cheetahs were fighting amongst themselves, so he caught up his staff and ran down to separate them.
The leopard had dealt with three of his slighter adversaries before Yussuf reached them, so he was free to spring at the man. Hussein snatched up a stone and ran down the slope; he flung the stone, and hit the leopard in the side. At the same time Yussuf hit it on the head with his stick, which broke in his hand; the leopard sprang at him, and knocked him down. The old man fell heavily, striking his head against a stone. Hussein tripped over a root, and his speed carried him sprawling full on to the leopard, which turned under him. For a second both were too stunned to do anything; then Hussein seized the leopard’s throat, and squeezed it with all his strength. The leopard grunted, and jerked convulsively to free its legs, which were under Hussein’s body. At first they were entangled in the clothes, and Hussein pressed himself as hard as he could on to the leopard to keep him there. But there was a rending sound as its hind feet kicked clear: Hussein felt the claws tearing into the flesh of his thighs, and he crushed the throat between his hands furiously. He glared fixedly into the yellow eyes a few inches in front of his, and ground his teeth with rage: he dashed the spotted head up and down for a moment, and then put all the strength of his body into crushing the leopard’s throat. For a moment he could hear the choked sounds of the leopard’s breath hissing in and out, and the ripping of its claws. The pain was appalling, and there was a redness before his eyes: sweat dropped from him on to the leopard. The sinewy body beneath him writhed and jerked powerfully: the forefeet came into play. Once more Hussein clenched his hands; the leopard’s tongue was protruding stiffly, its breath was hissing more thinly; it was half-dead. It clawed madly in a last effort, and for the first time Hussein cried aloud. He did not shriek from the pain, but shouted
in his fury.
Then everybody ran up: the Rajah himself shot the leopard through the head, and someone pulled Yussuf from beneath the two. He was half-stunned, but not seriously hurt. Hussein was in a worse way; he was carried home on a litter.
By the time he reached his quarters Yussuf was quite recovered, and he swore that Hussein had saved his life, saying, ‘See what men are the Faithful, what lions of the desert. Allah’s curse on all unbelievers. By my father’s beard we will be blood brothers, and my women shall nurse him. Inshallah.’
And although he was old enough to be Hussein’s father, he performed the ceremony that made them blood brothers, and took him into his own house, where his women, especially his third wife, who was grateful — for she loved Yussuf — and his fourth wife, Fatima — for she loved Hussein — nursed him most tenderly.
They sent for a famous hakim from Dacca, who gave Hussein a stewed leopard’s heart garnished with texts from the Q’ran, and the Rajah sent his own doctor, a Scotsman, who applied antiseptics, which were, however, carefully wiped off as soon as he departed.
Sixteen
But in spite of his doctors Hussein recovered, although at one time it had been a very near thing. For the whole time of his illness, Jehangir had stood, almost without cease, before the door of Yussuf’s dwelling, and he became extremely thin; he hardly fed at all until they brought Hussein out on to the verandah.
It was the same, to a lesser degree, with Shaitan, who also became thin, and pined visibly, so that his beautiful coat became matted. Because of this, and because of his deed — but principally because his cheetah pined for him — Hussein gained great izzat in the eyes of the other hunters.
When he was walking about again he was sent for by the Rajah, who had been greatly impressed by the incident — especially by his own part in it. At this time there were a number of Englishmen visiting the state, and the Rajah wished to demonstrate his own magnanimity, kindness, and other virtues, so Hussein was brought in, dressed magnificently in a gold-embroidered robe lent for the occasion. He knelt before the throne — the Englishmen and the rest of the court were on either side of it — and the court poet recited a long poem in Persian describing the deed, particularly the Rajah’s part in it. Then the prince drew a ring from his finger and threw it to Hussein, who called a long blessing on the Royal House and its heroic head, giving all the credit for the slaying of the leopard to the Rajah. The Rajah, who was in a good temper that day, was delighted when he saw that his visitors were impressed, and he said to his treasurer, who stood behind the throne, ‘Fill this good man’s mouth with gold.’
The treasurer looked rather sour at this, for finances were low as usual, but he pulled a fat purse from his waist and came to Hussein.
Hussein opened his mouth as wide as possible, and pressed his tongue down to make more room. The treasurer, a Bengali Brahmin, drew some coins from his purse and put them in; Hussein tasted that they were copper at once, but he dared not say anything; he had to content himself with glaring reproachfully at the Brahmin. The treasurer, looking distinctly less sour, filled the open mouth and retired. Hussein closed his mouth with some difficulty, and struck his head on the ground three times before shuffling out backwards on his knees, according to the custom of the court. However, he was consoled by the fact that the treasurer had accidentally slipped in a gold mohur among the rest, and that the Rajah’s ring was of good red gold, with a small, but sound, ruby in it.
While he was convalescent, Hussein had great difficulty with Fatima. She had believed that he had given Yussuf opium simply to the end that he might come to her with more safety, but when she had found that she was mistaken in this, she began to wonder whether she was not also mistaken in Hussein. She had persuaded herself that he was passionately in love with her, whereas it was she who did all the loving. It was a God-send to her when he was brought helpless to Yussuf’s house, for she was able, whenever she was alone with him, to ask him whether he thought that she was peerlessly beautiful, excessively intelligent, and infinitely too good for her surroundings, and Hussein was constrained to answer, ‘Yes', for he liked his wounds to be dressed tenderly, and he had a wholehearted dislike for poison in his food. She was a pleasant enough woman if one stroked her the right way — perhaps a little too passionate, but then, a woman with only one major defect is as rare as a two-legged ass with only one eye — but if, on the other hand, one were to thwart her powerfully, or to wound her vanity deeply, she was of the type that would busily grind up a glass bottle into a fine powder, and put it into one’s food. But she had to be content with Hussein’s almost monosyllabic love-making, for no other token of affection passed between them.
‘There was once a man called Ismail Dinn,’ said Fatima, ‘who was very much in love with me, although I could not care for him at all: he used to say that I was like Balkis of Sheba, only she had hairy legs, and I have not. He also used to say that my beauty was such that when he first saw me, he said to a friend of his that he would rather possess me than the whole of the harem of the Amir of Kabul; was he not a foolish man? Would you say in your heart that he was a flatterer?’
‘Oh no,’ replied Hussein, rather wearily. For many days the opinions of this abominable Ismail Dinn, and several others, had been put into his mouth in this way, and he was heartily sick of it, and of the vain, foolish woman, who talked ceaselessly. He sometimes wondered where she got all her wind from, for when she was talking about herself, and she rarely spoke of anything else, she never seemed to pause for breath, but went on and on and on, quite remorselessly.
Frequently he cursed the day on which he had first seen her, and often he had cursed the eyelid that had automatically dropped over his left eye when her pretty face had been revealed by the dropping of her veil. He had ample time to think about the best way of breaking with her as he lay, day after day, on his spring bed, but think as he might, he could not devise a plan which would rid him of her clacking tongue while he was in Yussuf’s house. As soon as he was well, he would be free of it, but he did not wish to incur a feud with a woman — he had had experience of one — and he could not think of any other feasible way of getting out of the entanglement into which his misguided desire for amusement had got him, except by alienating her somehow, and that was not at all desirable while he was still ill, and not so very desirable afterwards.
Hussein’s code was an elastic one, and it would stretch surprisingly on occasion; but he did not like making a cuckold of a man whose salt he had eaten, when he was not in love with the woman.
As he became convalescent, the situation became more and more trying: Fatima progressed from delicate hints that indicated her desire for a more robust type of love-making, to broader hints, and from broad hints to positively improper suggestions.
She was curiously obtuse in some ways, and although Hussein was consistently unenthusiastic, she put his attitude down to his sickness, and to the diet that the hakim had ordered for him. After she had come to that conclusion, she fed him almost exclusively upon meat and violent curries, but they only made him very liverish and irritable.
The situation was rapidly nearing a crisis, and Fatima had begun to punctuate her kisses with long, meditative stares that made Hussein most uneasy, when Ram Narain came to Yussuf’s house. He came with the old man, dressed as a Mohammedan; Hussein hardly recognised him at first, and he looked at Hussein as if he did not know him at all.
‘This is Ibrahim Khan,’ said Yussuf, introducing him to Hussein. ‘He is of the Faithful, and he has the care of three of the hawks — he is newly come into the service of the Rajah.’
Hussein saw that they were supposed to be strangers, so he made no sign of recognition.
Yussuf related the whole of Hussein’s adventure with the leopard, and then he called for food. It was Fatima who served them; she attended to Hussein’s wants with such care that Ram Narain looked at her twice. Only Yussuf noticed nothing: he was an old man.
After they had fed and talked for some
time, Yussuf went out, and they were left alone.
‘Did you get my message?’ asked Ram Narain, speaking in Pushtu.
‘I have had no message since I have been here,’ replied Hussein in the same tongue.
‘Did no sanyassi carrying a bundle wrapped in blue cloth ask you for alms?’
‘No. No such man came near me.’
‘He was an old man, with a long white beard.’
‘An old man? Now I heard gossip of an old man being found dead on the road near here: they said that he had a white beard.’
‘That was probably he; I heard nothing from him or from you, so I came here to find out what was happening. He was to have told you that you were to ascertain the names of the sahibs who were here not long ago — it was a small thing, and not very important — he was doing something else as well.’
‘I saw those sahibs when the Rajah gave me this ring; there were seven of them.’
‘Seven? What were they like?’
‘Two were tall, proper men, soldiers, I thought, although they were not in uniform; then there was a dark one, with a beard, and one short sahib, very fat and red: the rest I forget.’
Ram Narain thought in silence for some time, then he chuckled to himself, and asked after Hussein’s health.