"Are you in earnest?" said the oldest of the three; "or do you merelyask to find out whether our poor town would afford you such precious commodities?"
"God forbid, sirs," said I, "that one so young as I am should dare to endeavour to jest with men of your age and respectable appearance. I do indeed seek what I have said, and shall rejoice if any of you can direct my steps, for here I am a stranger."
"Since such is the case," replied the old gentleman, "I am happy in being able, even at this moment, to present you to Shekh Nusr-oo-deen, who sits here beside me, and who follows the respectable calling you are in search of. But you had better dismount, and, if such is your pleasure, join our Mujlis for as long as you feel inclined. My worthy friend will then, I doubt not, be happy to accompany you to his abode, and show you the articles you require."
"You are kind," said I, "and I accept of your civil invitation." So saying, I dismounted, and ascended by a few steps to where they were sitting. A few moments were occupied in the ceremonies of being seated. My new acquaintance called for a hookah and sherbet, and in a few moments we were on excellent terms.
"And what may be your distinguished name?" said the elder of the three, who had first accosted me. I named myself,—"A poor Syud," said I; "an unworthy descendant of our Prophet,—on whose name be peace!"
"Mashalla! I told you so," cried the old man. "Mashalla! there is no mistaking the noble race;—and his speech too! How say ye, my friends, is it not sweet and mellifluous, like a verse of Hafiz?"
"Ameen! Ameen!" cried both, "'tis even so; the young Syud is a worthy representative of his tribe, and we are fortunate in having made his acquaintance."
"You overpower me, worthy sirs," said I; "I little merit these encomiums; for having spent all my days in camps and in strife, I have learned few of those courtesies which ought to adorn the manners of every true believer."
"You have served then with Sindia?" asked the pearl-merchant.
"No," said I, "not in his armies, though there has been tough fighting enough to be seen with them. I have served in the Dukhun; and, I am proud to say, under the banners of Salabut Khan of Ellichpoor."
"A good name," cried all; "the noble Khan too has won it bravely, though not on our side in the late contests."
"It matters not," said I; "wherever a blow was to be struck, or there was hope of a fight or a foray, Salabut Khan was ever first in the fray, and the last to leave it."
"And your destination, Syud?" asked the pearl-merchant.
"Jhalone," I replied. "Salabut Khan has reduced his force; and there being no longer hope of employment for a cavalier like myself, I returned home to my father, and have taken quiet service with the Rajah,—whom Alla preserve! for he is as generous a prince as any of Hindostan; and on his behalf I have recently been on a mission to the durbar of Doulut Rao, on some matters which have been in dispute between them. I am proud, too, to say, that all has been quietly settled."
"Soobhan Alla!" cried the third worthy; "how could it be otherwise, since our honoured guest has managed the negotiation?"
Again I bowed my head to the earth, and acknowledged the compliment. Some desultory conversation followed, and I rose to depart. "My time is precious," said I, "and I implore you to excuse me. I have much to arrange about the men who accompany me, and I go on to the chowree to settle their accounts with the kotwal: if the worthy Shekh will allow one of his attendants to point out his abode, I will notice it, and visit him ere sunset."
"Nay, Meer Sahib, this cannot be," replied the Shekh: "behold I am ready, I will accompany you; my poor house is not far off, and Alla forbid I should be the means of trespassing upon your time." He arose, girded up his loins, threw his shawl over his shoulders, and thrusting his feet into his slippers, prepared to accompany me.
"I take my leave then, worthy sirs," said I to the others; "may health be with you!"
"Not without the pan and utr, Meer Sahib," said the elder; "it cannot be, that we should let you go like a dog." And calling to an attendant, the articles were brought. The pan was presented to me; I was duly anointed on my beard and under my arms, and after a few more salams and compliments, I was following my new acquaintance the pearl merchant.
"Is he to be bunij?" whispered one of my attendant Thugs to me in Ramasee, as I passed him.
"Hush!" said I, "speak not a word; but run all of ye before us and clear the way, as if I were a great man."
They obeyed me and ran forward, shouting and pushing the crowd to and fro, as though I had been a nobleman of fifty descents and a hundred titles.
We soon reached the house of the merchant; and leaving our slippers at the door, he took me by the hand and led me at once into the private apartment, where I suppose he transacted his business or received his best customers. It was a dahlan, or verandah, opening into a court, in the centre of which was a small fountain; its edges were planted with red poppies and larkspur, in various figures; and a plantain tree or two flung their broad green leaves over all. The place looked cool, and was scrupulously neat and clean. The room where we sat had been newly whitewashed, and its floor covered with a white cloth, except the musnud itself, which was of yellow cloth, bordered with blue velvet; a few large luxurious-looking pillows invited me to recline, and forget the world and its cares. Such shall be my own home, thought I, after awhile; a fountain is easily made, and I will enjoy my peace and quiet even as this worthy does. I had seen a hundred such, but the unobtrusive neatness and comfort of the spot struck me forcibly; and whilst envying the possessor his peaceful lot, I was inwardly forming a plan to decoy him with me, which I had leisure to mature, for he had left me seated, and was for some time absent.
He returned after some time, bringing with him a small casket, and leading by the hand a noble-looking boy, whom he presented to me as his son, his firstborn. He was about twelve years of age, intelligent in feature, and withal handsome, and possessing a confidence of manner I had never seen surpassed. "Alla has been merciful to you, my friend," said I; "and the Sahib Zadah is worthy of his sire. I had a son too once, who promised to be such a one as the boy before me; but it was His will! and I have now a lonely house. Yet why obtrude my griefs upon a stranger? You have doubtless other flowers of the same tree."
"There are three of them," said the merchant, "and they are the pride of my existence; for, after all, what is wealth? what is honour? what is well-doing or respect in the world, without some one to inherit it, and to tell of his father to yet unborn generations? And you are yet young. Why be without hope? Alla will not fail to listen to the prayers of a devout Syud."
"Alas!" said I, "I think not of it. A girl remains to me, who is contracted in marriage to the son of a worthy neighbour, and upon her rest my hopes at present. It is on her account that I seek a few pearls for the marriage ceremonies."
"And they are here, Meer Sahib; pearls from Surat and from Serendeeb,—jewels that a monarch might be proud to wear." And he opened the casket, and displayed its beautiful contents to my admiring eyes.
"They are indeed beautiful," said I; "but a poor soldier like myself has little to do with such costly ornaments. Show me, I pray you, a few of a lower price, such as will suit my present wants, which do not reach further than three hundred rupees' worth."
He selected a string, and held them out to me; they were what I really required, and the purchase was quickly concluded. Still, however, the glittering strings lay before me; and as I took up one in particular of great beauty, from the evenness of the pearls and their bright water, I said, as if involuntarily, "Would that my patron could see these!"
"Eh! what?" cried the merchant. "Do you think he would purchase them?"
"Assuredly," said I; "for shortly before I left Jhalone the Rajah was in the greatest need of pearls, and sent hither and thither for them, but without success; none were to be procured; and he was even talking of sending to Surat for some; but the length of the journey, and the risk, put the matter out of his head."
The merchant mused for awhile. At last he said, "And you really think he would purchase them?"
"I do. His daughter will be married next year, and he is collecting jewels for the ceremony."
"They are very beautiful," said the merchant, taking up the string, "are they not? I have had them now for two years, and no one here is rich enough to purchase them; yet they are cheap, I swear by your beard they are, and I look for but little profit upon them."
"The price?" I asked.
"From a poor man, like you, Meer Sahib, a Syud and a soldier, I would take six thousand rupees, but from a Rajah and an infidel I would ask eight."
"Good," said I. "Now listen to me. I am, as you say, poor; and I have the heavy expense of this marriage coming upon me. What say you to accepting my aid, and taking the pearls to Jhalone and selling them there? The Rajah is much guided by me; and if I get him to pay eight thousand rupees, you will pay me back the three hundred I now owe you for those I have purchased? Turn it over in your mind, and tell me your determination."
"Jhalone is a long way," said the merchant; "and if I sell my pearls, how am I to get back with the money? Thieves will hear of the transaction, and I may be waylaid and murdered."
"Fear not," replied I; "be at rest on that score. To one who has come so far from his home to oblige him, the Rajah will give an escort to return. Of this I am confident; and if this is all that prevents your making the determination to accompany me, you had better dismiss it from your mind at once."
"I will consult the astrologer," said he.
"Nay, Shekhjee," I replied, "this is too ridiculous. What have we true believers to do with astrologers? The man you would consult is a Hindoo, and there is abomination in the very word. Besides, what danger is there? I have some fifty men with me, my own attendants, and the Rajah's sepoys, therefore no harm can come to you; as for your return, you will have a few horsemen, who will afford you ample protection. Again, you said you have had the necklace for two years, and never had an offer for it; why, therefore, keep your money unemployed? Be wise, man, and come with me."
"Yes, father," said the lad, "listen to what the brave Meer Sahib says; and I will accompany you, and see the world beyond our town. You know you have promised to take me with you the first journey you make."
"Well, it is very tempting, certainly," said the merchant. "Eight thousand rupees, you said, Meer Sahib? That is worth going for, and these baubles are useless to me here. To tell you the truth," continued he, "I got them from a Pindharee, who served with Cheetoo, or Dost Mahomed, I know not which; he kept them as long as he could, but the Lubhurs were broken up by the Feringhees (a sad blow to our free trade), and though a few horsemen, his own followers, stuck to him, yet he had nothing to give them; at last, when they became mutinous, and threatened his life for their pay, he was obliged to sell these, and I was the purchaser."
"And you got them cheap?" said I.
"Yes, they were not dear, Meer Sahib; a man in necessity rarely drives a hard bargain. I got them cheap; and yet I swear to you that they are cheap at eight thousand rupees. I say this from experience: for I have sold worse to Mahdajee Sindia himself for ten thousand: but he will not purchase now, and they lie heavy on my hands."
"All, therefore, considered, Shekhjee," said I, "you had by far better accompany me to Jhalone. As to the journey, a month will see you back again; the season is favourable for travel; and as we are a strong party, and march by night, you will never be incommoded by the sun."
"Well, Meer Sahib, I have almost determined; but it will be necessary to tell those inside," and he pointed with his thumb to the zenana; "and as you said you had to go to the kotwal on some business, if you could look in here after it is all over, about the time of evening prayer, I shall be able to give you a decisive answer. Much as we affect to despise women, you know, I dare say, Meer Sahib, that it makes one uncomfortable to undertake anything, more especially a journey, without consulting them."
"As you will," said I; "I am indifferent about the matter; it is for your good alone that I have offered this counsel; and in this world of infidelity and selfishness it is refreshing to the heart either to assist a brother Moslem, or to be assisted by one without selfish motives. Alla Hafiz! I take my leave, and I will return by the Moghreb, and bring the money for my pearls." I left him.
"Is he to be bunij?" again asked the Thug.
"Peace, fool!" said I, laughing; "he has gorged the bait, but the hook is not yet struck. Wait. Inshalla! Ameer Ali is not the son of an owl or a jackass; and, Inshalla! we will yet throw dirt on his beard, for all he is so cautious."
I had no business with the kotwal, as you may have imagined. I rode to my tent, and assembling the leaders of the band, developed to them my plans, and gave them instructions as to their demeanour and conduct before our new guest in prospect: this done, I was easy about the rest. If he came!—It was almost too much to hope for; yet I had confidence in myself and in my fate. And the boy! that beautiful boy!—I had (for once) no heart to be a participator in his death. "I must not allow him to accompany us," I said to myself; "enough that the house is made desolate by the death of the father." I was thus musing when Laloo came to me.
"You are mad, Meer Sahib," said he; "this plan is not feasible. Bunij met with on the road is well enough; but to drag a man out of his house, as I may say, to destroy him, is too bad; and I do not think it is justifiable."
"Ha!" cried I; "so you are turned against me. How is this?"
"God forbid that you should say so, Meer Sahib; but look at the matter. You are known in the town, people have seen you enter the house of the merchant, and they will know that he accompanies you. Will they not hunt us out?"
"You are an owl," said I, laughing: "trust me, there is no fear; and as for taking the man out of his house, I tell thee I see no more difference in it than in having met him on the road in a regular way. Let me alone, I know my work, and when we have got him, you shall yourself applaud what I have done."
"Nay, it was but a friendly remonstrance," said he; "and as you feel confident, go on with the matter. He will be good bunij?"
"Assuredly, to the tune of some thousand rupees. By Alla! I was tired of the humdrum work we have been at lately, and my blood stagnated in my veins. This has stirred it, and I have set myself to the work. You know I seldom fail."
"Seldom, indeed, Meer Sahib; but can I do aught?"
"Yes, you can," said I: "follow me at a little distance, and note the house. The fool I am after will depend on his astrologer for a good day to quit his home. I am sure of this, for he said he would; and he took my bantering against it with an ill grace. Find out his servants, and from them the Brahmin; take money with you and pay him. There is enough of daylight yet, and remember to-morrow morning is to be a lucky one, and the next a bad one. Mind this, and do your best, for much depends upon it—nay, everything."
"On my head and eyes be it!" said he; "and therefore, Meer Sahib, I pray you accompany me even now, better in disguise perhaps, and show me the house. Leave the rest to me, and I will not fail."
"A good thought," said I. "The sun will not set for the next four hours; I can easily return and equip myself afresh." So saying, I stripped myself of my fine clothes, put on others which were soiled and dirty, tied up my face, except my eyes, and tucking my sword under my arm, looked as disreputable a brawler or smoker of ganja as any in the good town of Tearee.
"Come," said I, "our errand is soon done;" and so it was. We walked past the house, and I left my ally at the corner of the street, with a hundred rupees in his waistband, and a cunning heart in his breast.
I returned, and re-dressing myself, I mounted my horse, and took my way to the merchant's, with the money I owed him. I found him in the same spot; but as the evening was sultry, he led me to the terrace of his house, where carpets had been spread for our convenience. I paid my money, and received the pearls, and then entered upon the main object of my visit.
"You will go then, Shekhjee?" said I; "or is your mind against it?"
"Not at all, not at all," replied he. "It is my wish to go,—my great wish, Meer Sahib; but when I mentioned it in my zenana, though the proposition met with no opposing words or tears, they one and all declared that a lucky day must be fixed, without which it would be clearly of no use my going at all. You know what women are, Meer Sahib; suffice it to say, that I could not overcome their scruples; for the more I argued and persuaded, the more strongly they opposed; and in fact, the matter became so serious, that to pacify them—mind you—to pacify them—I sent ten rupees to a Brahmin who lives hard by, who is a noted astrologer, and the only one here in whom any confidence is placed. Alla is my witness, I cared not what he said; but when a message came back to say that to-morrow was an unlucky day, the whole Zenan-khana, wives, slaves, and asseels, set up such a howl of lamentation at what might have happened, and afterwards of congratulation at my having escaped the threatened evil, that I was fairly stunned, and have given up the idea of the journey for to-morrow at any rate. But you know, Meer Sahib, to-morrow's conjunction of planets may have a different effect, and as you will stay"——
"Indeed, Shekhjee," said I, "I cannot stay. Here have I idled away three whole days, and I can remain no longer, for time is precious to me. My patron will even now wonder what has delayed me; and to lose his favour will be the loss of my means of maintenance. So to-morrow I start, most assuredly, whether you come or not. And as to your accompanying me, that is your matter; I am perfectly indifferent to it, except that I shall lose your pleasant society on the road."
He was fairly perplexed. He had evidently reckoned on my stay; but my careless yet determined manner of speaking left him no hope of a change in my opinions; and, as a Persian would have said, he held "the finger of deliberation between the teeth of impatient desire." There he sat for a long time, looking on the ground in silence. It was a struggle between the love of gain and superstition; for though he had wished me to believe the contrary, he was as fully imbued with the belief of lucky and unlucky days as any of his wives, slaves, or asseels. At length he said:
"Meer Sahib, you remember our agreement—the two hundred rupees? I will make it another hundred if you stay one more day. You are a poor man, and a hundred rupees will buy many clothes for your daughter's marriage."
Here was a direct attempt to cheat me out of a hundred rupees; and, for the latter part of his speech, I could have strangled him on the spot. Yet I kept my temper: I was playing too deep a game to lose it, and for a trifle too.
"No, Shekh," said I, "it cannot be; I would not for a thousand rupees stay an hour after daylight to-morrow: you cannot tempt me. But have you ever thought that your Nujoomee may have played you false, and that it requires a few more rupees than ten to make the heavens propitious? I have heard of such things, ay, and proved them too, or perhaps I might believe in the aspect of the stars as you do."
"Ay! say you so, my friend?" cried he. "By Alla I would beat the rogue with a shoe in his own temple, with a shoe of cow's leather too, if I could think he was trying to cheat me; but that is impossible. How can he help the position of the stars? And yet say, shall I send more money?"
"No," said I, "surely not; if he is honest, he will fling it in your servant's face; if he is a rogue, he will keep it, and send word that the stars have changed; in the first case you will eat dirt, in the second you will be cheated, and he will laugh at your beard. No, I see no help for you, but to go in defiance of him, the zenana, and the stars; and this will prove you to be a man."
"Impossible, Meer Sahib," said he, despondingly. "Putting the Nujoomee out of the question, I have four wives, Alla help me!—the lawful number, you know; but oh! my friend, their wrath is dreadful, and I dare not provoke it."
"It is enough," said I; "you will not go, because you dare not,—not because you do not wish it."
"Exactly, Meer Sahib: you have hit upon the very cause. My own heart is willing, and the prospect of gain leads me; but those women"—
It was prayer time, and the Muezzin's sonorous voice proclaimed the hour from the roof of a neighbouring mosque. We performed our ablutions, and, as good Mussulmans, we spread our carpets, and turning to the still glowing west, poured forth our evening praise and thanksgiving. I was determined to stay till the last moment I could, to give my emissary time for his proceedings, and, if no message came from the astrologer, to try some other plan, or even to agree to stay another day. Ah, gold! thought I, if thou desertest me now at my best need, I will forswear thy worship.
Our prayers were ended, and still we sat and conversed, but no message came to suit my purpose. I had gradually led the merchant back to the subject of the journey, and was picturing to him, in terms suited to his avaricious soul, the reception he would assuredly meet with at Jhalone; and I was preparing my words to introduce a change in my opinions as to staying another day, when a servant came up the steps, and whispered something in his ear, at which he started, yet at the same time his face put on a joyous appearance.
"Excuse me for an instant, my friend," said he; "I am wanted below—some one awaits me in the Dewan Khana. Wait here, and I will rejoin you instantly."
My heart beat loud and quick in my bosom as I watched him down the steps. Could it be that I had succeeded? or was there any fear of danger to my own person? I looked over the terrace; it was far too high to leap from; escape, if there was danger, was impracticable. But a moment's thought rallied me; and as I disengaged my trusty sword, and held it ready for action, I laughed at my own fears, for I knew that I could defend that narrow stair against a host. I looked over into the court-yard of the Dewan Khana, but saw no one: I could hear two loud voices in low and earnest conversation; and as I stretched forth my neck, and bent over the parapet of the terrace, in the vain endeavour to catch a syllable, I was suddenly gratified by seeing the merchant and a figure robed in white, which I knew at once to be that of a Hindoo, while his bare and shaven head proved him to be a priest, emerge from the Dewan Khana; and now their words came clearly to me.
"Then there is no obstacle?" said the merchant.
"None," said the Brahmin (for so he was); "as I have said, there was a mistake in the tables and calculations which I have just discovered. My art also told me that thou wert anxious to go; am I right?"
"Right, ah, virtuous Brahmin, assuredly thou art. I am promised gain—nay, wealth."
"And thou wilt be successful," said the other. "May Narayun grant it! I will pray for thy good fortune."
"Do so, do so, good Brahmin: good Seonath, I will not forget thee on my return. Inshalla! I can be grateful: I will make a nuzzur through thee to the temple."
"You will not fail to do so, I think, Shekhjee, for Ballajee hath been propitious to thee ever since thy nuzzurs have been offered up at his shrine. But I go to present thy gift, though it is a small one. Narayun keep thee!"
"It shall be doubled—trebled, Seonath. I swear to thee by Alla I will not forget when I return. Thou goest! Well, Alla Hafiz, my friend awaits me."
He returned to me. "Rejoice with me, my friend," cried he, "my kind Meer Sahib! After all, to-morrow is the lucky day. My friend the Brahmin sent one of his disciples to say there was a mistake in the calculations upon his tablets, and that the aspect of the heavens was favourable to me for an unlimited period. Ah, how wise he is, Meer Sabib, and how honest!—you called him a rogue: but see, he might have kept me in suspense for a month, and refused to consult the stars at all until he had been well paid. Well, afterall, it is the power of Alla, and doubtless these infidels hold some communion with him which is denied to those of the true faith."
"So it would seem, Shekhjee," said I, humouring him; "it is no doubt wonderful that your friend, for an astrologer, is for once honest. Of course, you paid him liberally for his new discovery?"
The merchant winced. "A trifle, Meer Sahib; a few pice to purchase oil for the temple was all he wanted."
"Oh, rare disinterestedness!" cried I; "truly it is grateful to the heart to see such conduct in this selfish world, where every one appears to strive how he can overreach his neighbour. Of course, he has no prospective advantage?"
"None, Meer Sahib, none! How could a true believer have dealings or connection with an infidel? Do I not take advantage of his learning for my own convenience, and then laugh at his beard?" And he chuckled.
Liar! said I to myself, as I clenched my hand and ground my teeth, thou shalt answer to Alla for this perjury before thou art many days older. Verily this is a meritorious deed, and therefore hast thou been delivered into my hands. A Hajji too! Oh, shame, shame! Yet then I remembered the Arab verse which saith, "If thy neighbour hath performed the Haj, trust him not; and if he hath done it twice, haste thee to remove thine abode from his vicinity."
"Good, O Hajji," said I, "and you do right. But the night wanes, you had better make preparations for the journey; and let me offer you counsel; bring no one with you but a servant or two; my company is ample for your protection. I have a small pal which will hold us both; and, above all, bring not your son,—he will but fatigue himself for no good purpose, and be a clog on our rapid movements, for rapid they must be."
"I will follow your advice in all things, Meer Sahib. I shall bring no servants; the man who will drive my spare tattoo can attend me when I require it; and the less show I make, the less I shall be suspected of carrying money with me."
"Remember then," said I, "you come to my camp by the time the morning-star rises; we shall all be ready for you, and the sun will not be powerful ere we reach our stage."
He promised to be there by the appointed time, and I left him. I found my trusty emissary waiting for me in my tent. He burst into a loud laugh when he saw me. "Is he safe?" he asked at length. "Ah, Meer Sahib, I have had great amusement, as no doubt you have also."
"He is, he is fairly caught. The net is around him; one pull and he is a lost man. And you, my faithful friend, you have succeeded so that I marvel at your success."
"Marvel not," he replied; "the task was easier than I thought. But hear my adventures."
"Surely," said I; and I called for a chilum, while he proceeded.
"You remember when you left me?"—I nodded,—"Well, it was a long time ere I could find a servant; and in despair I lay down in the shade of the wall, but kept awake; at last a fellow came out, a Hindoo, as luck would have it, and I followed him: 'Canst thou direct me to a kulal's shop?' said I; 'I have travelled far, and my throat is dry.' I saw that the fellow himself drank, from the colour of his eyes, and they sparkled at the mention of the kulal's shop. 'There is one close by,' he replied; 'I will show it.' 'Good,' said I, 'thou shalt share my potations.' Well, we entered the shop, and went into the inner room. I called for a bottle of liquor, and paid for it; the place was somewhat dark, and I poured what I took on the ground, but he drank every drop; he finished the bottle as though it had been water, and I sent for more. At last I began by asking him who his master was, and what service he did, and, Mashalla! I heard in a wonderfully short time all about him; and, lastly, that he was going on a journey, but had been prevented by an astrologer's having declared the morrow to be an unlucky day. In fine, my friend Sumbhoo (for such was his name) got very drunk, and having told me much of his master's private history, which did not redound to his credit, he fell senseless on the ground, and there I left him; but not before I had ascertained that theastrologer resided at a temple in the next street, and that his name was Seonath."
"I have seen him," said I; "a tall, fair man, a good-looking priest, and stout enough for a Thug."
"You saw him! How and where?" I told him, and we had a hearty laugh as I described the scene in the court-yard, and mimicked the cringing tones of the merchant, and the haughty ones of the Brahmin.
"But listen," said Laloo, "and wonder as I did. I soon found the temple and the Brahmin, and accosting him, I begged for a charm against the evil eye for my child. He looked at me—ya Alla, how he looked! I quailed under his gaze, and my flesh crept as if I were in an ague fit; for once I was afraid, for I knew not the man, and yet he seemed as if he could read my heart. 'Follow me,' said he, 'I would speak with thee apart from these prying people.' He spoke kindly, and I followed him, though almost mechanically. He went before me. 'Leave your shoes,' said he; 'this place must not be polluted: it is sacred.' At last we were alone, in a small court, where there was a shrine of the god. Again he turned on me, and looked into my face. I really knew not what to think; and oh, how glad I was when he put an end to my suspense by repeating our signal words!"
"Our signal?"——"Yes, Meer Sahib, even so; I was as much astounded as you are, but the mystery was soon solved; he proved to be a priest of our holiest of temples, Bindachul, who had travelled into these parts, and having picked up some astronomical lore at Benares, set up here for an astrologer, and found the trade so profitable, that he has not returned to Bindachul. Of course, I had no reservation with him; I developed our plan, from which he at first drew back; but I opened my purse, and five ashruffees worked such a change in his sentiments, that he listened to my words with complacency, altered the face of the heavens as far as they concerned your friend, and, in fine, offered there and then to go and say that his calculations were wrong, and that everything boded prosperity to the poor Shekh."
"He has not failed us," said I.
"No," replied Laloo, "I know that; but we have to pay handsomely. He wanted a hundred rupees more; but I represented that we were a large band, and there would not be much to divide, and I obliged him to be content with a Bhuttote's share, added to whatever a general subscription might amount to when the band should be informed of the part he had played."
"And he is content?"
"You have had the best proof, Meer Sahib; has he not done the errand he promised? And when did a Brahmin of Bindachul ever break his faith? He dare not: Bhowanee would smite him on the spot, or kill him by lingering torments."
"And how," I asked, "are we to convey this share to him, whatever it may turn out to be?"
"Easily enough; we can get a hoondee on this place, and send it to him in a letter, or we can despatch a man with it."
"True, we can," said I; "and so now go; repeat to the men the lesson I taught them, and enjoin them to be circumspect and wary. We have good bunij in prospect, and, Inshalla! we will get it, too. But I wish I could see the Brahmin, who has done us so good a turn in this matter."
"Let him alone," said he; "he told me, that although he wished much to see you, having often heard of your conduct, it was better to avoid suspicion, and that any open intercourse between him and you would expose him to the inquiries of those with whom he was associated, and had better be avoided. And he is right, Meer Sahib; it would do no good."
Four days passed, and the merchant was still in our company. He was slightly attended, and we could have terminated his existence whenever we pleased; but we were anxious to carry him on as much of the journey as we could,and to baffle any traces of our route, by turning to the right and left, away from the regular tracks, and by footpaths and byways only known to ourselves. Yet we had got far enough, and I knew that the next day's march would lead us through a jungle, which was one of our favourite bhils, and where I had from the first determined that he should die.
We were on the road early on the fifth morning, and as before (indeed, as was my wont) I was riding at the head of my party. It was now daylight, but we were entering the jungle, and I was merry in my heart to think that he was in my power, and that a large and valuable booty would be our prize in the course of a short hour, when I saw an animal move in the bushes on my right hand. Another instant, and a hare again crossed my path! I laughed within myself. Fools that they are, thought I, these brethren of mine! no Jemadar but myself would dare to pursue this track after so dire an omen; himself and his whole band would fly, as though a hundred tigers were in their path, and would leave their bunij to escape, or to follow them, as his destiny might guide him. But I!—I laugh at it: once I have proved that the omen is harmless, and shall it deter me now? Ah, no, no! my game is sure, and within my grasp.
And so it was. Sahib, we had not gone a coss, when I saw the place I had determined on; and there the merchant died and his two servants. Yes, he died by my own hand. I pulled him off his pony and strangled him; and the servants were cared for by the others, but not before one of them had cut down one of my men; for in my eagerness to possess myself of the prize before me, I had not seen that the servants of the merchant could observe my actions. The poor fellow who had fallen was dreadfully wounded; yet he still breathed. What to do with him I knew not: we could not wait, and to transport him with us was out of the question.
"What shall we do with Anundee?" said I to Laloo: "we are far from our stage, and we cannot, with our large party, say we have fallen among thieves."
He solved my doubts at once. "Put him out of his pain," said he; "the man is dying: what matters another thrust? he can be buried with the rest. The men might not like it if they saw it, but all here are engaged, and most of the band have gone on. We can wrap him up in his sheet afterwards."
I drew my sword and stepped towards the dying wretch; he looked supplicatingly towards me and strove to speak, but my heart was hard. I was sickened by the deed I had done, and I prayed Alla to forgive me the blood of the miserable creature.
Wretch! said I—interrupting Ameer Ali—and you murdered your own companion, your brother to whom you were sworn?
I did, Sahib, I did; yet why call it murder? He would have died in a short time; I did but rid him of his misery.
It was a foul deed, Ameer Ali; and one that haunts your memory, I doubt not.
Sometimes, was the careless answer of the Thug; and I bade him proceed.
We wrapped the body in the sheet which was around its waist, having taken the money from the waistband. Laloo and myself carried it to the grave, now nearly filled to the top.
"So he is dead!" cried the Lughaees; "he could not have lived long after that cut: the fellow who gave it would have done for more of us had not some of us seized on him; but we have laid him quietly,—he will break no more good men's heads: and as for poor Anundee, he must be buried with the rest, for to burn him is impossible in this lonely place."
And hewasburied; they deepened the centre of the pit, put some heavy stones over him, and covered him with earth: and I felt a load taken from my heart as he was covered from my sight for ever. Only Laloo knew what I had done, and I knew him to be faithful and silent: nevertheless I often afterwards wished either that another had done the deed, or that I had let him die.
A rare booty we had, Sahib. After we had eaten the Goor at the next village, we hastened on to the end of the stage; and before we ungirded our loins I opened the caskets and divided the spoil. Not only had the merchant brought the necklace I have mentioned before, but a heap of unstrung pearls; and on reckoning up their probable value, we estimated the amount at twenty-fivethousand rupees. Now therefore we had no inducement to tarry away from our homes; we needed no fresh adventure to enrich us, and we pushed on to Jhalone. We reached it in safety, and again I clasped Azima to my heart, and rejoiced to see that my child was well, and with a girl's eagerness looking forward to the time when her marriage ceremony was to take place. My father too was well, and had reached Jhalone without any adventure worth recording, so at least he told me. But of Ganesha there was no news, save that he had diverged to the eastward, and was supposed to have gone in the direction of Benares; and I little cared, except that the revenge for the destruction of the Moonshee's son rankled in my heart and was not forgotten.
Months passed at my home without care, and in peace. Alas! now that I think on it, I can only compare the course of that time to the gentle stream of a river, which, as it winds among peaceful scenes and between green and flowery banks, ruffled only by the soft winds playing over its bosom, is suddenly arrested, dashed among rocks, and its current changed to turmoil and furious contention with its stony opposers. I saw no mark of my future lot, no warning was given to me; destruction came upon me in one fell swoop, and I was overwhelmed—I and mine! But for that stroke of fortune I had lived till now an honest and gentle life, for I abandoned Thuggee; and the more I experienced of the soothing pleasures of my home, the more I became estranged from my habits of wandering, and of plunder and destruction. Nor was the least urgent reason in the meditated change of my life, that I dreaded every day more and more that some unlucky chance would reveal to Azima the dreadful trade I followed. I could paint to myself the effect it would have on her loving and gentle disposition, and the prostration of every faculty of her existence, under the shock of knowing that I was a murderer; and often, as she lay upon my heart in the dead of night, these thoughts have come so thick on me, that could her soul have held any mysterious communion with mine, she would have recoiled in horror from my embrace, and fled from me for ever. And these fancies recurred so frequently and forcibly, that sometimes I almost thought them a warning of coming evil, and I had fully determined to remove my abode and my wealth to Delhi, after my daughter's marriage, there to reside for the remainder of the days which might be allotted to me.
I have said months passed without incident; I should have mentioned that an English gentleman, some time after my arrival, came to Jhalone; and in the many conferences he held in secret with the Rajah, we were given to understand that a treaty of some kind or other had been made, and that he had placed himself under the protection of the English Government. I thought not of it: yet even then a system was working silently yet surely, which, for a time, struck at the power and confederacy of the Thugs a blow as severe, nay more so, as being more lasting, than any they had yet experienced.
The Englishman had left Jhalone some time, and his visit was nearly forgotten by us; my daughter's marriage had begun, and everything was rejoicing in my house. About noon one day one of the Rajah's Hurkaras came with a message that he required my presence and my father's in the Durbar, on particular business. In vain was it that I excused myself on the plea of the marriage ceremony. The messenger would take no excuse; and at last, seeing no alternative, we girded our loins and accompanied the Hurkara.
We were ushered through the various courts to the Dewan Khana, where the Rajah sat in Durbar, surrounded by his Mutsuddees and soldiers. Leaving our shoes at the entrance, we were as usual advancing towards his Guddee to make the customary salutations, when a sudden rush was made upon us from both sides of the hall, and we were at once seized and disarmed. In vain I struggled with my captors, in vain I attempted to shake them off by the most strenuous exertions; it was useless: I was surrounded and overpowered, my turban was torn rudely from my head, and my arms were bound so tightly with it, that I thought the blood would have burst from under my nails. I desisted at last, and remained passive in the hands of the soldiers. My hour is come, and my fate has led me on thus far to desert me at last! thought I; it is the will of Bhowanee and of Alla, why should I resist?
Seeing me quiet, the Rajah addressed me. "Ah, Ameer Ali," said he; "what is this I hear of thee, that thou art a Thug, a common murderer? Can this betrue of one who was looked up to in Jhalone as a merchant, and a respectable man? What hast thou to say? Speak, man, and prove if thou canst to me, that the accusations I hear against thee are false."
"Rajah," said I, "I know not who hath poisoned thy mind against me or mine; is there any one in your city who can speak one word against, me? Have I not been fair and honourable in my dealings with all, and with thyself, too? Have not I managed villages and brought them to prosperity from desolation? and can any one, young or old, in this Durbar say that I have ever wronged him, or defrauded him of a fraction? Rajah, none can say this; and therefore, why am I and my old father thus disgraced in the eyes of the city, and torn from our houses in the midst of the rejoicings of marriage?"
"Iaccuse thee not," said the Rajah; "Bhugwan alone knows whether what I hear is the truth or not; but witnesses are many against thee and the old man; let them speak, and we will afterwards decide in your case. Bring them forth!" cried he to an attendant; "one by one let them give their evidence before these unhappy men: we desire no secrecy in this matter."
There was a moment's pause in the assembly, and every eye—a hundred eyes were upon us. I looked to my father, to see the effect his situation had on him; but I read no hope in the glance he threw on me; his energy had deserted him, and he looked like a convicted felon long before he was so in reality; he returned my anxious and meaning glances by a stare of stupid apathy or extreme fear,—I know not which; and it was pitiable to behold him, for his venerable and respectable appearance but ill assorted with the disgraceful situation he was in. I turned away from him to look at the man who entered, and then I felt that my doom was sealed. I have never mentioned him, but he had been connected with our gang from the first as a Tilhaee, or scout, and had afterwards assisted as a Bhuttote on many occasions. His name was Sooruj; he had accompanied me on all my first expeditions, and had served under my father for some time before I became a Thug; he therefore knew every particular of my career, and until I became a Pindharee described every event with minuteness and fidelity, omitting not one nor adding in any way to those I had been so deeply concerned in. He offered to point out the spots upon which travellers had been destroyed, declared the amount of booty we had gained on many occasions, and ended by denouncing both my father and myself as the greatest leaders in Bundelkhund, as men who could take the field at any time with two hundred followers or more, and as cruel and remorseless Thugs. He dared me to disprove his words, and indeed I quailed under his accusations; for they were true, and truth searches the heart and overwhelms the guilty. But against my father he was the most bitter. "Look on him, Rajah!" cried he; "look on this hoary wretch! one would think that, old as he is, he would have ceased to deprive his fellow-creatures of life; that he would have spent the remainder of his days in propitiating Bhowanee by sacrifices, and his own Prophet by prayers! yet it has not been so. Within the last two months he has returned from an expedition laden with spoil, and the last man he strangled was one of thine own subjects, oh Rajah,—one who was respected and beloved here, and whose bereaved family will rue this day that I have declared his fate in your Durbar."
"One of my subjects!" cried the Rajah; "thou canst not mean it. Speak! and let not fear prevent your disclosing the truth."
"Fear! Rajah, I know it not. If I feared him, that old man, should I have dared to speak as I have done? Listen; you knew Jeswunt Mul, one of the most respectable of the shroffs of Jhalone?"
"Knew him, oh messenger of ill tidings! Jeswunt Mul is not dead?"
"Askhim," said the man hoarsely; "or stay, ask the other man you have here; let him be brought forward, he will tell the tale; I saw it not. But Jeswunt Mul will never speak more, and let those who believe the good man safe at Saugor shave their mustachios and mourn, for he will never more be seen. Yes, he is dead, andthatold man looked on while he writhed out his last agony under the roomal of the Bhuttote;" and he pointed at my father, while he regarded him with a look of grim and revengeful pleasure.
There was a general shudder through the assembly, as the deep tones of the informer's voice fell on the ears of those who heard it; and "Jeswunt Mul dead!" was repeated by many in an incredulous tone as they drew into knotsand whispered together. Nor was the Rajah himself least struck by the melancholy information. He sat on his musnud in silence, though it could be seen by the working of his features how much he was affected. But he aroused himself at last.
"Thou didst not then see this murder?" said he to the informer.
"I did not, Maha Rajah; but send for Bodhee, he will relate the particulars."
Bodhee! thought I; then there is indeed no hope. Until his name was mentioned, I had a faint idea that the accusation might be a fabricated one; especially as I had heard nothing of the sahoukar's fate from my father: but Bodhee had been with him, and he was the chief of the Lughaees, and it was more than probable that he had dug the grave for the victim.
"Let Bodhee be brought forward," cried the rajah.
He came; his fetters clanked as he moved, and it was not until he had advanced into the midst of the Durbar that he beheld my father and myself bound and as criminals. The sight staggered him, and well it might; he had been trusted by us, raised to the rank he held by my father, and ever treated by him as a son, though he was of a different faith to ours. His face was convulsed by his emotions—they might have been those of a faithful heart struggling against ingratitude; and I looked with a breathless anxiety to the first words which should fall from him. But before he spoke the Rajah addressed him.
"Miserable wretch!" said he, "your life has been spared on the condition that you speak the truth, and reveal, without reservation of a single circumstance, every deed of murder you have been engaged in: this has been promised you by the English, and you have now to prove that you will perform your engagement. If you do perform it, well; if not, though the English are your protectors, I swear to you that you shall be dragged to death by my elephants ere a ghurree of time has passed over you. Bid the elephant be brought!" cried he to an attendant; "and see that the chains are ready. By Gunga! there will be work for him ere long: and now," continued he to the approver, "knowest thou aught of the death of Jeswunt Mul of this town,—he who used to manage my private affairs, or if he indeed be dead? Speak, and remember that truth alone can save you."
There was a breathless silence; my father gazed at the informer with an intense anxiety; it was evident to me that he thought one word from him would seal his fate for ever, or that, should he deny the deed, he would escape. Earnestly, imploringly, he looked at him, and the informer was well nigh overcome; he trembled in every limb, and the big drops of sweat stood out on his face, while the veins of his forehead swelled almost to bursting.
"Speak, Bodhee!" said my father in a hollow voice,—yet still he smiled,—"speak, and tell the rajah that his poor servant Ismail is not guilty of this deed."
"Silence!" exclaimed the Rajah; "gag him if he attempts to utter a word to influence the informer; we will do justice in this matter; and you, Meer Sahib (turning to a respectable-looking person who was seated near him), you shall be able to tell the Sahib-logue that justice can be done in the Durbar of Jhalone. Bring up the elephant," he cried to the attendants; "and do you, Bodhee, look your last on the earth and sky, for by Gunga, I swear, thou art nigh to death if thou deceivest me. I read it in thy face that this matter is known to thee."
But still Bodhee hesitated: there was evidently a struggle within him whether he should die in defence of his old protector, or betray him to save his own life. For a moment the former feeling prevailed; he turned to the Rajah, and said distinctly and firmly, "May I be your sacrifice, Maha Rajah! I know nothing of this matter: of other murders I can tell you, but I know nought of this."
"He lies!" said the other approver; "he was with Ismail Jemadar; he is afraid to speak out, and has lied to you, O Prince."
"You hear him," cried the Rajah to Bodhee; "you hear what your fellow Thug says; yet, much as you have deserved death, I give you a few moments more: the shadow of the verandah is now close on my musnud,—till it reaches it thou shalt live—beyond it, one finger's breadth, and you die!"
There was not an eye in the crowd that was not fixed on the advancing shadow; barely a hand's breadth of light remained, and the Thug gazed on it as though he were fascinated by the eye of a tiger. My father! oh he was fearful to look on; his eyes were glazed—his lips were tightened across his teeth—fear,agony, was depicted in his countenance in stronger lines than I had ever before seen. I could not look on him—his face was altered, and his usual bland expression had been usurped by that I have described. I felt sick, I could have died I thought; and would that Ihaddied, to have been spared what followed.
"Fool!" cried the other approver, "will you sacrifice your life for those who will be instantly put to death?" He spoke in Ramasee.
The words rallied the man to whom he addressed them, and they saved him.
"Pardon, pardon!" he cried; "O, mighty prince, I have told lies. Jeswunt Mul is indeed dead; these hands dug his grave, and bore his yet warm body to it."
"Ai Bhugwan! Ai Seeta-ram!" cried the Rajah, "and is it even so? My poor friend, and art thou dead?" and for a moment or two he wept. "This is womanly," said he, rallying himself. "Proceed, O kumbukht! Let me know all, and what sharehehad in it."
"We met the Sahoukar at ——," said the Thug. "Ismail well knew that if we were all seen by him he would suspect us, so he sent the greater part of the band out of the village, and prevailed upon Jeswunt Mul to come and sleep in our camp, instead of remaining where he was. He went to the village, and brought him away himself, else he would not have come. The grave was dug long before he arrived; and he had not been an hour with us after the sun had set, when he was strangled in the Jemadar's presence by two Bhuttotes; and his two servants shared the same fate. I buried them all. The Sahoukar's pony we sold the next day for twenty-five rupees; and we got but little else, for he had no money but in hoondees, which we burned."
"Enough, enough," said the Rajah; "this is ample proof."
"Nay, if your greatness requires more proof, I can give you some now," continued the approver. "Look at the Jemadar's hand: he wears on it a ring he took from the body himself, and it may be recognized even by you, Maha Rajah."
My heart sank within me at this new and desperate stroke of fortune. I saw the ring torn from my father's finger. All examined it. A Sahoukar who was in the assembly declared it to have belonged to Jeswunt Mul, and, more than all, his name was engraven on its inner surface.
"Enough!" again cried the Rajah; "I know it myself. I could have sworn to that diamond among a thousand. Away with him! chain him to the elephant; let him be dragged through the town, and proclamation made that he was a Thug."
"Stay," cried the Syud, who had not as yet spoken, "he may have something to urge in his defence. Ask him, and hear him."
"Speak!" cried the Rajah to my miserable father—"speak, O kumbukht!"
And then my father's proud spirit broke out. With the certainty of death before his eyes, he quailed not. While hope remained of life, he had clung to it, as every man will; and when I had expected a grovelling entreaty for his life to be spared, from his previous demeanour, he asked it not, but gloried in the cause for which he died.
"Yes," said he, drawing himself up, while his eye glistened proudly, "I scorn to die with a lie upon my lips. I killed Jeswunt Mul because he was a villain, as you are, Rajah! because he employed Thugs, and would not reward them, but wrung from them every rupee he could, as you do. I have murdered hundreds of men, because they were given into my hands by Alla; but I never destroyed one with the satisfaction I did your friend. Ay, you were friends and brothers in guilt, and you know it. My life! I care not for it. What has an old man to do with life? his enjoyments are gone, his existence is a burthen to him. A short time, and nature would have claimed me. You have anticipated the period. Yet, O Rajah! Bhowanee will question you for this deed—for the destruction of her votary. My blood be on your head, and the curse of a dying man be with you! You have deceived me, robbed me, shared my spoils, takenthe produce of murder; nay, be not impatient, you know it is the truth, and that Alla, who is the judge of all, knows it also. He will cast your portion in Jehanum, as a kafir; and Bhowanee will rejoice that the destroyer of her votary writhes in the torments of the damned."
"Gag him! strike the kafir's mouth with a shoe!" roared the Rajah in a fury, more like that of a beast than a man, as he foamed at the mouth. "Away with him! and let his son look on his dying agony."
And they dragged us both forth,—I should not say my father, for his step was firm. I struggled against my tormentors, but it availed me not. "One word, my father!" cried I to him as we were brought near each other. "Wilt thou not speak to thy son?"
He turned his head, and a tear stood in his eye. "I leave thee, Ameer Ali; but thou knowest a believer's Paradise, and the joys which await him—the seventy virgins and everlasting youth. Thou art not my son; but I have loved thee as one, and may Alla keep thee!"
"No more!" cried the rough soldiers, striking him on the mouth, and dragging him forward.
"Revenge me!" exclaimed my father in Ramasee. "Tell the English of that monster's conduct to us; and when he is torn from his seat of pride, my soul will be happy in Paradise."
He spoke no more; I was held forcibly, so that I saw the end of that butchery. They secured him by a chain round his loins to the fore-foot of the elephant, and they tied his hands behind him, so that he could not save himself by clinging to it. He still continued repeating the Kulma; but now all was ready—the Mahout drove his ankoos into the head of the noble beast, which uttering a loud scream, dashed forward. A few steps, and my father's soul must have been in Paradise!
Sahib, can I describe to you the passions which then burned in my heart? I cannot. A thousand thoughts whirled through my brain, till I thought myself mad; perhaps I was. Revenge for my father was uppermost; and oh that I could have got loose: by Alla! unarmed as I was, methinks I would have sprung on the Rajah and strangled him. But resistance was unavailing; the more I struggled, the tighter my arms were bound, until they swelled so that the pain became excruciating, and I well nigh sunk under it. I suffered my guards to lead me away from the Durbar; I was thrust into a vile hole, and at last my arms were unbound.
That day—Alla, how it passed! Men gazed at me in my cage as though I had been a tiger, and mocked and derided me. The boys of the town hooted me, and thrust sticks at me through the iron gratings. One and all reviled me in the most opprobrious terms they could devise,—me! the respectable, nay the wealthy, to whom they had bowed before, when I basked in the sunshine of the Rajah's favour—but I was degraded now. Alas! my dreams, my forebodings had come to pass—they had been indefinite shadows—this was the reality. Alla! Alla! I raved, I called upon Azima's name, I implored those who still lingered about my prison to fly and bring me news of her, and to comfort her; and I cursed them when they derided me, and mocked my cries. Azima, the name that might not have been breathed by mortal out of the precincts of my zenana, became a word in the mouths of the rabble, and they jested on it, they loaded it with obscene abuse, and I heard it all. In vain I strove to stop my ears,—it provoked them the more; they shouted it close to the iron bars and spat at me. Night came, and I was left in my loneliness. I should have been in her fond embrace—now I shared the company of the rat, the lizard, and the scorpion. It was in vain that I courted sleep, to steep my senses in a temporary oblivion of their misery; my frame was too strong, and my anguish too great, for it to come to me. I wrestled with my agony, but I overcame it not, and I had to drink the bitter cup to the dregs. At last the morning broke; I performed the Namaz: the dust of the floor served me instead of sand or water for my ablutions. Water I had none; I had begged for it, formy mouth was parched and dry with anxiety, yet no one gave it. Again the court was filled; old and young, women and children, all came to look at the Syud—to look at Ameer Ali the Thug—to deride him, and torment him! But I was now sullen; like a tiger, when his first rage, after he has been entrapped, has subsided, I cowered into the corner of my cell, and covered my face with my waistband, nor heeded their savage unfeeling mirth, nor the bitter words they poured out against me. In vain was it that I now and then looked around to see whether one kind pitying glance rested on me. Alas! not one; every face was familiar to me, but the eyes either spoke a brutal satisfaction at my sufferings, or turned on me with the cold leaden stare of indifference. I tried to speak several times, but every murmur was hailed with shouts from the rabble before me, and my throat was parched and my tongue swelled from raging thirst.
The whole day passed—I had no food, no water. It was in the height of the burning season, and I, who had been pampered with luxuries, who in my own abode should have drunk of refreshing sherbets, prepared by Azima, was denied a drop of water to cool my burning throat. In vain I implored those nearest to me, in words that would have moved aught but hearts of stone, to intercede with the Jemadar who guarded my prison to allow me a draught of the pure element. I might as well have spoken to the scorching blast that whistled into my cage, bringing with it clouds of dust, which were increased by the unfeeling boys when they saw I shrank from them. Thus the day passed: evening came, and still no water, no relief, no inquiry into my condition. Had I been placed there to die? And no sooner had the thought flashed across my mind than I brooded over it. Yes, I was to die! to expire of thirst and hunger; and then, oh how I envied my father's fate! his was a quick transition from the sorrows and suffering he had undergone during one short hour, to Paradise and the houris.
And from evening, night, I had watched the declining sun, till its last fiery and scorching beams fell no longer on my prison-floor—I watched the reddened west until no glare remained, and one by one the stars shone out dimly through the thick and heated air—and I thought I should see the blessed day no more, for I was sick and exhausted even to death. I lay me down and moaned, in my agony of spirit and of body, and at last sleep came to my relief. For a time all was oblivion; but horrible dreams began to crowd my prison with unsightly shapes and harrowing visions; my life passed as though in review before me, and the features of many I had strangled rose up in fierce mockery against me,—faces with protruding tongues and eyes, even as I had left them strangled.
Why describe them to you, Sahib? why detain you with a description of the horrors of the scenes which rose to my distempered fancy, and at last woke me, burning as though a fire raged in my bowels, and would not be quenched? But morning broke at last, and the cool air once more played over my heated and fevered frame, and refreshed me. Yet I was still in agony;—who can describe the sufferings of thirst? Hunger I felt not: thirst consumed me, and dried up my bowels. How anxiously and impatiently I looked for the first man who should enter the court where my prison was! One came, he passed through and heeded not my piteous cries: another and another: none looked on me, and again I thought I was to die. Another came; I called, and he turned to regard me. He was one that I knew, one who had eaten of my bread and my salt, and had been employed about my house, and he had pity; he had a remembrance of what I had done for him: he came, and looked on me. I spoke to him, and he started, for my voice was hollow, and thin and hoarse. "Water!" cried I, "for the sake of the blessed Prophet, for the sake of your mother, one drop of water! I have tasted none since I was confined."
"Alas!" said he in a low tone, "how can it be, Meer Sahib? the Rajah has threatened any one with death who speaks to you or brings you food."
Again I implored; and I who had been his master prostrated myself on the ground and rubbed my forehead in the dust. He was moved—he had pity and went to fetch some; fortunately no one saw him, and he brought a small earthen pot full, which I drank as though it had been that of the well of Paradise. Again and again he took it and refilled it; and at last he left me, but notbefore he had promised to visit me in the night, bring me a cake of bread if he could, and, more than all, news of Azima and of my house.
The next day passed, and I had no food. I treasured up the water which had been left with me and sipped it now and then; but by nightfall again I was in torment. Yet I had hopes, for I knew that the young man would not deceive me; he had sworn by his mother's head to bring me food, and he could not break his oath.
And he came. I had sat watching, with that anxiety which can only be known by those who have been in a situation like mine, listening to every distant footfall, to every noise, as though it were the step of him I looked for. I have said he came; he was muffled in a blanket, and had stolen in unobserved by the lazy sentinel at the gate; he brought me food, a few coarse cakes, and an earthen pot of milk. "Eat!" said he in a low tone; "I will sit here, and will tell you the news you bade me inquire for afterwards. I was ravenous, and I ate; coarse bread, such as I should have loathed three days before, was now a luxury, sweet and grateful; I ate it, drank the milk, and was thankful; and I called him and blessed him for his venturous daring, and for his gratitude to one who could no longer do him a kind turn. "And the news, Gholam Nubbee? can you tell me aught ofherand my child?"
"My news is bad, Meer Sahib, and I am the unwilling messenger of tidings which will grieve your soul and add to your misery."
"Say on," said I: "tell me the worst; tell me she is dead, and you will only say what my soul has forewarned me of."
He paused for a while. "You must know it sooner or later, Meer Sahib—she is dead."
"And my child?" "She is with the good Moola who protected your wife when she had no longer a house to cover her, and who performed the last rites of our faith to her when she was dead."
"No home!" cried I; "they did not drive her forth?"
"They did, Meer Sahib. The Rajah sent soldiers, your house was stripped of everything, and your gold and silver, they say, was a prize he little expected; your wife and child were turned into the street, with only the clothes they had upon their persons. But to her it little mattered, for I have heard she never spoke from the time she knew of your father's fate and the cause of your imprisonment. They say she sat in stupor, like a breathing corpse, without speaking a word to say where her pain was."
"Enough!" said I, "go; may Alla keep you! I would now be alone, for grief sits heavy on me."
Then she was dead—my Azima, my beloved!—she for whom I could myself have died,—she whom I had loved as man can only love once—she was dead; she had known that I was a Thug, and that had killed her. It was well—better far that she should have died, than lingered on to be scoffed at and insulted as the wife of one who was now a convicted murderer. Had she lived I could never have dared to approach her, for she was pure, and I—!
I may say I almost rejoiced at her death, Sahib; I did not grieve as I should have done had the blow fallen on me while I was yet in prosperity—then it would have been hard indeed to bear; but now I was altered, and she was dead, and again I say it was well. Alla in his mercy had taken her from her scene of suffering, almost before she knew to its full extent the horrible reality. And my child too was safe; she was in friendly hands, and the Moola would be a father to her.
The day after the nocturnal visit of my humble friend, food was allowed me; it was scanty to be sure, but still I existed, though worn down by sufferings, which I have no words to express, to a shadow of what I was. Three months passed thus, and they appeared to me like years when I looked back on them. At the end of this time I was taken to the Rajah's Durbar. Few were the words he spoke to me, but those were bitter ones; for he had shared my spoil, taxed me for protection, and, after putting my father to death, he had plundered my home, and his booty was the accumulation of mine for years past. I say my father, and yet he had told me he was not my parent. But what mattered that now? he was dead, and the mystery of my birth, if any had ever existed, was gone with him. What mattered it too who was my father? I wasalone in the world; not a tie, save one, bound me to existence. My daughter was with strangers, and in a few years she would forget me,—truly I might say I was alone.
I was in the Rajah's Durbar—I had no friend; no one of all those by whom he was surrounded, who had formerly courted me, eaten of my bread, and flattered me that I was yet to rise to greatness under his patronage—not one spoke for me, not one interceded to avert my shame. The Rajah spoke to me. "Ameer Ali," said he, "I had trusted thee, I had thought thee honest (how he lied as he spoke!), I had believed thee a rich and fortunate merchant; but, O man! thou hast deceived me, and not me alone, but thousands, and thou art a Thug and a murderer. Still, because I have a lingering sentiment of kindness towards thee, I do not seek thy death; justice has been satisfied in the destruction of the hoary villain who made thee what thou art, and who led one who might have been an ornament to the world to be a wretch upon whose head is the blood of hundreds. Yes, Ameer Ali, I speak truth, and thou knowest it. And though I desire not thy death, yet thou canst not be released without a mark on thy brow that men may know and beware of. Throw him down," cried he to the attendants, "and let him be branded!"
They threw me down. Sahib, what could my attenuated and wasted frame do against men who had suffered no misery like mine? I struggled, yet it was unavailing; they held my arms, and legs, and head, and a red-hot pice was pressed upon my forehead; it was held there as it burnt down to the bone, ay, my very brain seemed to be scorched and withered by the burning copper. They took it off, and raised me up. Alla! Alla! the agony that I endured—the agony of pain, and, more than that, of shame; to be branded publicly that the world might think me a thief; to have a mark set on my forehead that I must carry to my grave—a mark only set on the vile and on the outcasts from society. Sahib, it was a bitter cup to quaff!
"Away with him!" cried the Rajah, "away with him! Release him at the boundary of my territory. And mark me," he continued, addressing himself to me, "I have given thee thy life, Ameer Ali; go and be wise; learn by what has happened to be an honest man for the future; and, above all, remember that if ever thou art seen in Jhalone again, or in any of my towns or villages, nothing will be able to save thee from the feet of an elephant."
He rose and strode out of the Durbar; and, in pain and misery, I was conducted in two days to the frontier of his country and unbound. Two rupees were given to me, and again the wide and cruel world was before me. I hurried from my late keepers. I bound my turban over my still burning and aching brow, so that man might not see my shame, and took the road before me. I wandered almost unconscious of anything, save the pain I was suffering, until night fell around me, and I directed my steps to a village, the lights of which were a short distance before me. Exchanging one of my rupees, I sat down at the shop of a Bhutteara and satisfied my craving appetite. There I slept, and when I arose I was refreshed, and again believed myself to be Ameer Ali. The morning breeze blew fresh on my face as I took my way out of the town; the refreshing rest of the night had invigorated me, and I bounded along with a light heart—yes, with a light heart,—for I was free! I had no thought for the past now. It was my fate which had been fulfilled: what had been written in my destiny had come to pass. As I proceeded, a jackass brayed on my right hand, and I hailed the favourable omen with a joy I can feebly express. Yes, great Bhowanee, mother of men! cried I, aloud, I answer to thy omen; I am ready, and again devoted to thy service. I have sinned against thee; I had wilfully avoided thy warning omens, led on by an irresistible destiny and by a proud heart. I have been punished, and have bought a dear experience; but henceforward no votary of thine breathing shall excel Ameer Ali in devotion to thee; and therefore, great goddess, vouchsafe the Thibao and Pilhaoo. And they were granted; the omen on the right was followed by that on the left, and I felt that I was pardoned, and again accepted as a Thug.