To the surprise of her servants the Rani came forth without herburkha, or long mantle, invariably worn by native ladies of rank to conceal the whole person in public.
She promptly ordered the curtains of thedulito be removed.
For a moment her servants hesitated to comply. Never before did they recollect such an order to have been given.
"What," she cried. "Dost thou not hear my command? Take those hangings away. I am not a Mohammedan, but a Hindu Rani in my own right. Of old time our princesses were not afraid to show their faces to the people. It is my pleasure that they shall know well the features of Lachmi Bai."
The curtains were hurriedly removed. The Rani entered her chair, and surrounded by her servants was borne in the direction of the city gate, through which it was expected herguruwould enter.
At the head of the procession, the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, marched with pompous dignity. Against all contingencies, he had prudently further armed himself with a long sword, that trailed in the dust at his side, and made him an awe inspiring object to the beggars that chanced in his way.
As the procession passed through the streets, the people saluted the Rani with terms of affection. Many turned to catch a glimpse of her face.
"See," they cried. "The Rani of Jhansi fears not the gaze of our eyes."
It had gone little more than half the distance to the gate, when it was met by a bullock cart in which rode an old man of venerable aspect.
The Rani seemed to instantly recognize his features. She commanded her bearers to halt.
"It is my dearGuru," she cried. "Ah, how glad I am to see him."
On his part the old man recognized the rich liveries of the servants as those of his godchild, the Rani. With an effort he dismounted from his cart and would have prostrated himself before her, had she not anticipated his action.
She alighted quickly and knelt at his feet. She embraced them affectionately, and cried in a voice which all might hear:
"OGuru, live forever. Grant a blessing to thy godchild, Lachmi Bai."
For a moment the old man's face reflected the astonishment of the crowd that had gathered. That she should thus humble herself in public was certainly a surprising act. But its significance was not lost upon the people, who, as the old man raised her in his arms tenderly, called down a thousand blessings on her head.
The first greetings over, theGuruwas about to again climb into his rickety vehicle, when the Rani interposed. She insisted that he take her place in theduli.
At first, the old man demurred at so great an honor being accorded him. But the Rani was persistent.
"Before, I have ever met thee, dearGuru," she cried, "as but a poor captive in Jhansi. Now that I am the Rani, I desire my people shall see I am not unmindful of the ancient customs of our race."
Thus she followed on foot behind herGuru'schair, as the procession returned to the palace.
The great hall of the palace presented a splendid, an imposing spectacle. Its pillars were decorated with banners and trophies, its walls hung with rich draperies from the looms of Kashmir and Sind. At the further end a throne of ivory inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, was placed under a gorgeous canopy. It stood upon a platform approached by a short flight of steps, covered with a Benares carpet of black velvet embroidered with gold thread. The subdued light, the atmosphere of antiquity, that pervaded the audience chamber of the Rani of Jhansi, enforced that reverential feeling, by which the human voice naturally sinks into a whisper.
As yet the throne was unoccupied.
In the body of the hall were groups of magnificently attired maharajas, rajas, and military officers, awaiting the entrance of the Rani. Diamonds blazed in turbans of many colors, ropes of pearls hung about their necks, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, scintillated in barbaric profusion amid the gold embroidery of their robes of state.
Amid these dazzling personages, Ahmad Khan, the humble servant of God, was a conspicuous figure by the simplicity of his martial uniform. In his new characterhe had evidently curbed his passion for outward display. In place of jewels he had mounted a green badge in his turban, as a sign that he was one among the Faithful who had obeyed the commandment of the Prophet and made the pilgrimage to the Holy City. Slung from his shoulder was a plain leather band suspending a sword encased, also in a plain leather sheath. But the sword was as sharp as the arm was strong to wield it. He gazed proudly round upon the throng. Was there any man who cherished evil in his heart? If so, his enemy was careful to display no outward sign of animosity.
Indeed, it was the knowledge that this awe inspiring warrior had openly espoused the Rani's cause, the report of his descent upon Sadescheo, carried swiftly to the boundaries of the state, that had brought many wavering nobles in haste to tender their allegiance at the firstDarbarof the Rani.
Among the last to enter the hall before the hour set for the council was Prasad Singh. He had undoubtedly spent much time and thought in arraying his handsome form to striking advantage. A diamond aigrette rose from the folds of his turban directly above his forehead. A collar of emeralds encircled his neck, his long outer garment was stiff with embroidery, the velvet scabbard of his sword was encrusted with gems.
Ahmad who seemed to have been watching for Prasad, at once strode to the Hindu noble's side and greeted him with every outward mark of friendship.
He drew Prasad apart and spoke in an undertone to avoid being overheard.
"This is thy day, O Prasad," he said congratulatingly. "Thou wilt be reckoned as among the most fortunate of men. Thou mayest prepare thyself to receive the felicitations of both those who wish thee well and those who envy thee."
Prasad returned the Mohammedan's salutation responsively.
"What did the Rani say," he asked, "when thou spoke to her of me"?
"What could she say," replied Ahmad, in a tone as if he had advocated the other's cause so well that there could be but one conclusion drawn. "What could she say! I swear never did eloquence so flow from my tongue in any man's behalf, as it did for thee, my Prasad. I vowed to the Fair One that the appointment thou seekest should by every right be thine. Upon the Holy Book I swore that but for thy dash and bravery, even the war scarred veteran, Ahmad Khan, might have been compelled to turn his back before the fury of that night of storm, and the strength of Sadescheo's frowning walls."
Prasad's gratitude manifested itself in a warm tribute to the other's friendship.
"But," he protested with a slight accent of concern, "I fear thou mayest have performed thy task too well, O Ahmad."
"Not I," returned the other. "Fear not that one whohas trod the pavement of the Afghan court has not learned to pick his way most warily. Be assured thy desire is already granted."
A sound of distant music broke upon their ears.
"Hark"! enjoined the Mohammedan in a whisper. "Hark! The Rani cometh toDarbar."
As the music drew nearer the nobles ranged themselves on either side of the hall leaving a passage in the center for the Rani and her attendants to approach the throne. A profound silence fell upon the brilliant assembly.
Nearer rolled the sound of an inspiriting martial air. Presently amid a loud clash of cymbals and the beat of drums, the foremost of the procession swept into the hall. Fans of peacock feathers waved aloft, emblems of state were borne before her to whom all eyes were directed.
"The Rani, the Rani," passed in an impressive whisper from mouth to mouth. In turn, each of the nobles made a low obeisance.
She walked with a stately, measured pace, a little apart from the rest of her suite. As she moved along the human aisle, the earnest expression on her beautiful features gathered an abstracted look, as if the thunder of the music crashing upward to the roof, carried her vision beyond the brilliant spectacle of the moment, to some perspective scene yet to be unfolded.
For the occasion she had robed herself with great magnificence after the Mohammedan rather than the Hindu fashion of ladies of high rank. Her reason was, perhaps,that it afforded her a better means of impressing those to whom a sumptuous display of jewels and fine raiment formed a considerable part of their existence.
In place of the simple, gracefulsari, she wore an outer garment of scarlet cloth of gold, disclosing beneath, silken skirts of delicate hues and of such filmy texture that one might have supposed it was by a miracle the intricate embroidery of pearls had been stitched upon the material. Upon her head there rested lightly a cap of scarlet velvet set with pearls, that contrasted with the dark color of her gathered tresses. Pearls, lustrous, priceless pearls, adorned her neck, her ears, even her slippers. Upon her fingers, diamonds of Golconda served to draw attention to the symmetry of her hands.
"In the Paradise of the Prophet," murmured Ahmad as she passed, "could there be found such a one"?
Following in the Rani's train, the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, marched with a lofty air, as if he trod upon the necks of the nobles present. His glance chanced to rest upon Prasad Singh. An inward tremor caused his spirit swiftly to descend to earth.
He hastily grasped a talisman that he had purchased from his friend the astrologer at great cost, and muttered a prayer.
"May holy Devi protect her servant from the accursed designs of the evil one."
The Rani approached the throne and seated herself with quiet dignity. On her right, the aged man, to whom shehad accorded so great honor on the previous day, took up his station. Behind her, grouped themselves the personal retinue of her court.
The music ceased. Amid the silence which ensued, Ahmad Khan strode forward to the lowest step of the throne. Hesalaamedthrice before the Rani, then turned, and in a loud voice proclaimed her title.
"Behold," he cried. "The Pearl of Jhansi, the noblest of our Queens. Long live the fair Rani, Lachmi Bai."
The nobles gravely echoed the Mohammedan's salutation.
Then, one by one, they came forward, and were in customary form presented. They returned after the ceremony to chairs of state, or to seats upon the rugs spread on either side of the throne.
For each she found a suitable expression of greeting, but to Prasad she spoke in a gentler tone, and bade him take a place of honor at her hand.
"What did I tell thee," whispered Ahmad aside to him.
The Mohammedan had also been similarly favored by the Rani.
"What did I tell thee, friend. But I do not blame thy qualms. Lover like, thou canst not see a flower open until it is in full blossom."
A smile of gratification lit up Prasad's face, clouded for a moment as the Rani singled out the young Dost Ali, to stand upon the dais.
The presentations over, the Rani then rose to address the gathering. She spoke quietly but in her voice therewas an unmistakable note of authority. It penetrated clearly to the furthest recesses of the hall.
First, she graciously thanked the nobles for their response to her summons to theDarbar, and their spontaneous recognition of her sovereignty. In return she assured them that her one aim was to promote the welfare of her state and people, that to everyone should be secured justice in his person and property.
"I who had suffered so much in that respect," she cried, "can never be unmindful of the misfortunes of others."
She then proceeded to confirm the nobles in all their ancient rights and privileges, and reviewed the situation as it related to the cause of India as against that of the Foreigners. The news from Delhi, she regretted to inform them, was unsatisfactory. Disrupted by internal dissension, the position of Bahadur Shah was fast becoming desperate, in the face of the investment of the city by the Foreigners. It was surely a warning to them in Jhansi, she declared emphatically, to submerge all personal animosities in the common object of defending to the death, the freedom they had regained with so much difficulty. She had, the Rani further related, dispatched trustworthy messengers to urge speedy action, on behalf of the cause, upon the powerful Maharajas, Gækwar of Baroda, Sindhia of Gwalior, and the great Mohammedan Nizam of Haidarabad. There was little reason to doubt that if they could only be persuaded to follow the unmistakable sympathy of their troops and people, Delhi mightyet be preserved to the Emperor, and the Foreigners driven into the sea.
"But, my Lords," she cried, "we, at any rate, must prepare ourselves to defend the State of Jhansi against enemies from whatever direction they may come. The fortresses that have fallen into decay under the dominion of the Foreigners must be repaired speedily. New cannon must be cast forthwith and mounted on the walls. Ammunition and stores of grain above all our likely needs accumulated, and more troops raised to guard the passes. With your loyal co-operation, I have no doubt this necessary condition of affairs may be brought about with little waste of time."
The Rani paused for a short space; an interval that was utilized by her hearers in expressing their approval of her words.
At the commencement of her address they were impressed by her beauty and dignity; but as she proceeded amazement at her clear perception of the danger and needs of their position, gave place to all other feelings. More than one exclaimed:
"Truly the voice of Lachmi Bai is that of a great Rani."
With a motion of her hand she regained their attention, and continued:
"My Lords," she said. "To direct our best efforts for the end I have explained, there must above all things be established a firm central government in Jhansi. Not that I aspire to deprive any noble of his rule within hisown district, but all authority must emanate from the throne it is mine by right to occupy. For this purpose certain officers of government must be appointed."
Ahmad's countenance remained impassive, while Prasad's gathered a look of eager expectancy.
"It is," the Rani continued, "partly to gain your approval of such appointments that I have called you to thisDarbar. By such action, I trust, no jealousies will be aroused, no mistakes made that will stir up internal discord."
She paused for a moment, but as the countenances of the nobles thus far indicated approval of her words, she resumed.
"First, it is my desire that my honoredGurupresent, whose advice hath ever been of great benefit to me since my childhood, shall occupy the office of minister of state. In choosing him, you all know I am but following many ancient precedents, wherebyGurusof kings and princes have, by their wisdom, added luster to the crowns worn by their godchildren. Have I your approval of the appointment"?
Perhaps for the reason that no one particularly aspired to the office, perhaps because they might have thought there was little to be feared in the person of the venerable form at the Rani's side, the reply came unanimously, that the Rani's worthyGurushould be appointed her minister of state.
"It is well, my lords," she cried. "Now to a more difficult matter. It must be known to you all that an armywithout a chief commander, whose orders must be obeyed by everyone without question, is a mere rabble in the face of the enemy. But the difficulty in Jhansi is, that all my officers are so brave and competent, that to single one out from amongst the others for the high honor in my gift, is an impossibility. I have, therefore, to suggest a remedy in this way."
She moved forward to the edge of the dais and stood before them, a majestic figure.
"My Lords," she cried, stretching forth an arm. "I, Lachmi Bai, the Rani, will command the forces of the State. If anyone doth say me, nay, he hath the right to let his voice be heard in council. I will listen to him patiently."
At critical moments in the lives of those destined to play heroic parts in the eyes of their fellow creatures, it not infrequently happens, that nature appears to cast a vote in their favor, by a striking manifestation of sympathetic accord. To many, such may be no more than coincidences, but to some, particularly to the Oriental, they are fraught with deep significance.
The sun mounting over the Palace discovered a rent in the awning of one of the windows set in the roof of theDarbarhall. It sent forth a shaft of dazzling light that, penetrating the darkened chamber, descended full upon the form of the Rani of Jhansi. In her robes of state, for the moment, she appeared in a blaze of splendor, that to her audience betokened a supernatural power guiding her destiny. Against such, what was man, thathe should dare to raise a voice in protest? Was it not clearly a sign that the blessing and protection of the great God rested on her head. Even to Ahmad Khan, surprised and dumbfounded by the Rani's unexpected action, as seeming to again baffle his carefully laid plans, the incident was not lost upon his sense of superstition. Prasad's mind merely reflected the feelings of the others. A profound silence followed the Rani's declaration. No man ventured a yea or nay.
The Rani waited patiently a few moments for their answer, then again spoke.
"By your silence, my Lords, am I to gather your consent"? she asked.
A Raja rose from his chair of state and replied:
"Surely thou art the Rani," he exclaimed. "Is it not the will of God that thy word shall be a law with us. Thou art the commander of us all."
"It is the will of God," came without a dissenting voice from all parts of the hall. "Aye, it is the will of Mahadiva."
The Rani warmly thanked the nobles for their confidence. She again eulogized their valor and loyalty, assuring them that when the moment of danger threatened, she would not be found wanting in courage, if necessary, to lead her army in person. So gentle yet so stirring was her appeal, that even the hearts of those before given over to sensual indulgences, were moved to do brave actions in her behalf.
They sprang to their feet and shouted enthusiastically."Thou art our Rani. We will follow thee to the death, O Queen of Jhansi."
An expression of surpassing happiness rested on her face.
"Then, my Lords," she cried, "I bid you all attend me to-morrow when I will repair in state to the White Turret, and raise upon it my banner as the emblem of my military authority."
"And let him who dares," she concluded, "lift his hand against it."
The walls trembled with the applause which her concluding sentence and her defiant air brought forth.
Again she enjoined silence by a gesture.
"Before theDarbarcloses," she added, "I have yet to speak a word to you. With much thought I have decided that the well tried valor of the noble Ahmad Khan, entitles him to the subordinate command of the forces quartered in the cantonments, as long as he shall remain in Jhansi. Further, for certain reasons, I will appoint as my lieutenant of Jhansi, the noble, Dost Ali, lately come to us from the great Amir of Afghanistan, Dost Mohammed."
Briefly she recapitulated the reason urged by Ahmad Khan for the Dost's appointment to the greater office. No voice dissenting she then declared theDarbarclosed.
Kindly she turned to Prasad and invited him to accompany her to her private apartments.
With intense chagrin, jealousy, and disappointment inhis heart, he bowed haughtily, and pleaded as an excuse a pressing matter requiring his presence elsewhere.
For a moment a look of pain crossed her face.
But the music again sounded, the fans of state waved on high, the procession re-formed, and between the ranks ofsalaamingnobles, the Rani retired from her firstDarbar.
Ahmad Khan had scarce time to adjust his plans to the unexpected course taken by the Rani. But in the appointment of hisprotégé, even to the lesser position of honor, he beheld a dagger by which to stab his rival's favor with the Rani, a fatal blow.
Prasad strode toward the door, wrapt in gloomy, bitter feelings, without exchanging a parting salutation with anyone.
Ahmad followed quickly and caught up with the Hindu noble before the latter had crossed the threshold.
"Stay, good friend," he cried. "Thou art in a great hurry to shake the dust of theDarbarhall from thy feet."
"Aye," returned the other, with sullen ill humor. "And it will not be long before I shake the dust of the accursed city from my feet."
"Why so"? asked Ahmad with assumed astonishment.
"Why so," retorted Prasad angrily. "How canst thou ask, why so, after thy cajolery"?
Ahmad shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. "Friend, Prasad," he asserted. "I give thee my word,no man in theDarbarwas more astonished than Ahmad Khan when the Rani grasped the sword of state herself."
For once he spoke the truth honestly.
"Of that I make no complaint," retorted Prasad. "If the Rani so wished it, hers was the prerogative; though a strange one for a woman to assert."
"Then to what hast thou taken so much offense"? asked the Mohammedan with apparent innocence.
Prasad, in turn, regarded Ahmad with a look of astonishment.
"Art thou so guileless, O Ahmad Khan"? he asked, "after all that has passed between us, not to imagine that I might be offended with the Rani's action, in giving to another—a stranger—that which she knew I besought of her favor."
"Ah! as to that, my Prasad," returned Ahmad, pacifically, "there may have been many reasons in the Rani's mind, apart from the chief one given. She may have assumed thou wouldst not have cared for the lesser honor conferred upon Dost Ali—by the way a handsome fellow too; or, woman like, mind, I say no word against the beauty, wisdom, and courage of the Rani, she may have admired the gallant bearing of this fellow. A new favorite, perchance. Thou must remember, good Prasad, she is a woman as well as Rani, and turneth her gaze first upon one, then toward another."
Prasad's brow scowled threateningly.
"By God," he muttered. "She shall not treat me so."
"Nay, nay, Prasad," Ahmad rejoined restrainingly."Thou canst not dictate to the Rani. She would care little even if thou didst menace her with a sword. With her thou must fence with other weapons. I make no doubt it is but a passing fancy she hath conceived for this Dost Ali."
"Dost Ali"! Prasad muttered fiercely, "Dost Ali! Dost Ali had better look to the sharpening ofhissword."
"Come! come, good Prasad," continued Ahmad, laying a friendly hand upon the other's arm. "Dost Ali hath no weight in the Lovely One's esteem. But display thy spirit and she will quickly turn again to thee, for she loveth thee in her heart, I could swear to it. Be advised in this way. Absent thyself from the ceremony of to-morrow. I will tell her I know not what ails thee, that thou art falling sick, perchance. Then behold how she will fly to thy side. Then see how speedily she will grant anything thou askest."
"Ahmad," the other returned gravely. "I know not what to think of thee. Thy ways here may win for thee the Seventh Heaven of thy Prophet's Paradise, or the lowest pit of his Inferno. But thou givest shrewd advice, I make no doubt."
Ahmad laughed. "Come, friend," he rejoined. "Clearly thou dost not understand a woman's ways. She delighteth in men striving for her favor, but let the chosen one display indifference, and she is at his feet. In the meantime let us to my house without the city. There," he added insinuatingly, "thou wilt discover a little treasure that may amuse thee—a Kashmir dancinggirl of no ordinary charm, my Prasad. True her eyes, her lips, her form, are not comparable to the endowments of the superb Rani, but she hath a way with her that pleaseth many. Some of theGiours'spirits have I, too; and though as one of the Faithful I may not taste of such, yet thou mayest in their subtle waters, forget the passing cloud until the sun shall again blaze upon thy turban. Come! Let us away, and forget our disappointments. All will yet go well with thee."
To this proposal, after some demur, Prasad reluctantly consented.
With a courtly bow that concealed the sinister smile upon his face, Ahmad motioned the Hindu noble to take precedence of him, by passing first out of theDarbarhall.
The house of Ahmad Khan, with numerous out-buildings, was situated in a large compound, pleasantly shaded by willows, and overlooking the placid waters of the lake that stretched over a wide expanse to the eastward of the city. Both externally and internally its atmosphere suggested the impression that the owner was not averse to a comfortable, even a luxurious retreat after the hardships and dangers of his military exploits.
If the stables filled with high-bred chargers, the walls decorated with a splendid collection of trophies, and the large retinue of armed servants unmistakably emphasized the profession of Ahmad Khan; the shaded halls, luxurious divans, and the soft rugs woven in rich colored arabesque patterns, told that he possessed other tastes than those pertaining to the field of battle.
To Prasad he remarked these evidences of another life apologetically.
"For Ahmad Khan, O Prasad," he said, "the step of a mosque, or the bare ground for a sleeping place is enough; a bowl of rice and a cup of the coffee he has learned to drink in foreign lands sufficient provender; but for those who honor his roof with their presence, he is bound by the law of Islam to provide more generous entertainment."
"Truly," returned Prasad, as his eyes wandered over the handsome furnishings of the house. "Truly if thou keepest all these things solely for the benefit of thy guests, thou must indeed be a prince of hospitality."
Ahmad consigned his friend to the care of a skillful barber, who, for an hour previous to the evening meal, deftly shaved, perfumed, and assisted in attiring the Hindu noble's person in garments befitting one to whom the Lord of the House desired to extend the greatest honor.
In order to avoid the least semblance of offense to his guest's susceptibilities, Ahmad had ordered the dishes of the repast to be prepared separately, those from which Prasad was to partake being cooked by a Brahman. For a similar reason water was served by one of that caste.
The meal was sumptuous, both in the display of gold and silver plate, and in the long succession of courses spiced to tempt the palate of an Oriental epicure.
Prasad's ill humor was plainly marked in his meagre appetite. Savory dishes, of which he would, under ordinary circumstances, have partaken with avidity, he barely tasted. Others, he let pass without even inserting his fingers to test their quality.
"Come," cried Ahmad, at the conclusion of the banquet, "thou shalt now drink of the choicest of theGiours'spirits. I warrant that after the first cup thy peace of mind will be restored. Thou wilt forget past disappointments in the happiness of the present."
Wine for Prasad's benefit, and coffee for the Mohammedan were then served.Hookahswere set before them and lit by obsequious servants.
Prasad cast restraint to the winds and drank deeply, while his companion watched him craftily, encouraging his libations. But the insidious spirits of the Foreigners, looted from their bungalows, only served to intensify his dejection.
"Accursed life," he muttered. "What am I, that I should submit so tamely to the fickle humor of the Rani"?
"Patience, good friend, a little patience," returned Ahmad assuagingly, yet with an added sting.
"Dost Ali is but a passing fancy. Forget him in the pleasure of the moment. Drink, and thou wilt surely feel a new man before theMollah'svoice at sunrise, calls the Faithful to their devotions."
He raised his hand as a signal to an attendant, a heavy curtain was drawn back and a group of musicians, accompanied by dancing girls arrayed in yards upon yards of silken drapery, entered the apartment. They advanced to the divan upon which the two nobles sat languidly drawing from theirhookahsandsalaameddeferentially. The musicians then seated themselves in a half circle in front of the divan, while the girls awaited the first bars from the instruments. Presently an inspiring air rose in the chamber, the girls assumed individual poses, and thenatchcommenced.
Their graceful actions, glancing steps, and sensuous attitudes, frequently called forth words of praise from theMohammedan; but Prasad's gloomy thoughts remained unconquered.
"Surely thou art hard to please," remarked Ahmad, as the girls retired for a brief rest.
"Thou knowest the distemper of my mind," replied the other sullenly.
"Aye, but wait," exclaimed Ahmad. "The jewel that shall bring fire into thine eyes hath not yet appeared."
He again gave a signal. The curtain was once more withdrawn. Upon the polished surface of a slab of ebony, uplifted upon the shoulders of six stalwartharkars, Ganga, the star ofnatchgirls, was borne into the room.
For a moment, even Prasad's gaze rested approvingly upon the seductive form of the famous dancer. Her supple figure, attired in elaborately embroidered shawls, and colored silken skirts, artistically disclosed, one beneath another, was displayed with an effect well chosen to captivate those whom it was her profession to enthrall. Flowers adorned her hair. Her neck, arms, and ankles were ornamented with jeweled trinkets.
Upon theharkarshalting before the divan, she raised her arms above her head, and assumed a graceful pose. In a low, fascinating tone, she commenced a dreamy song of love. Presently her feet caught the rhythm of the music, and to the accompaniment of tiny silver bells attached to the bangles on her wrists and ankles, she portrayed by her actions, in turn, the passions of love, hope, jealousy and despair.
From time to time Ahmad uttered exclamations of satisfaction. Prasad, in spite of himself seemed to be fascinated by her charm.
"Didst thou mark that languorous glance she cast on thee"?—Page105.
"Didst thou mark that languorous glance she cast on thee"?—Page105.
Ahmad quickly noticed his guest's brightening humor.
"What did I tell thee," he whispered insinuatingly. "Miserable indeed would be the man whose soul was insensible to the eyes of such a one. Didst thou mark that languorous glance she cast on thee"?
Prasad sighed heavily.
"I grant you," he replied, "with but one exception, she hath a matchless form. At any other time she might have made a fair impression. Now, chains bind my soul about a thankless vision."
The girl finished her part by lightly springing from her elevated position, and prostrating herself before the nobles.
Ahmad took from his waistband a handful of gold coins and tossed them to the girl.
"Take them, O Ganga," he cried. "ByAllah! Thou hast almost performed a miracle. Thou hast found favor in the eye of the inconsolable."
A slight note of sarcasm marked the Mohammedan's concluding sentence.
Far into the night the two nobles watched the repeated efforts of the dancing girls, stimulated by cups of wine, to outdo their previous displays of art. But after the first surprise on beholding Ganga's charms, Prasad relapsed within his cloud of dejection.
At last, the early shafts of dawn penetrated the reed blinds and mingled their light with that of the silverlamps suspended from the roof; a warning that the moment of sunrise was at hand. Twittering of awakened birds, and the voices of men and beasts proclaimed for the multitude the passing of the hour from rest to labor.
Prasad rose wearily from his recumbent position.
"Ahmad," he exclaimed. "In truth, I feel as if I may be sick. Perchance thou wilt not be obliged to resort to subterfuge in my behalf."
Ahmad turned a penetrating look toward his guest.
"Thou wilt not attend the ceremony of to-day"? he asked.
"As thou advisest," returned the other. "Do what thou thinkest best for me. I am sick with love, with jealousy, with I know not what, for yonder Rani."
He turned and slowly made his way toward one of the exits from the room.
Ahmad also rose to a standing posture.
From the balcony of a minaret near by, the voice of aMollahresounded through the clear atmosphere.
"There is but one God and Mohammed is the Prophet of God."
Ahmad strode from the room to a porch facing the west. He knelt and reverentially bowed his forehead to the pavement.
"Thanks be to God," he murmured devoutly, "for the countenance He turneth toward His servant."
Then he uplifted his face to the brightening heavens. He stretched forth his arms above his head, as he cried in a deep, sonorous voice:
"Allah! Allah! Allah"!
In the open space before the main entrance to the Rani's palace, a crowd of nobles, soldiers, and sightseers had collected. High mettled horses led by grooms, paced back and forth, while their owners in dazzling groups discussed the news of the morning. Peddlars of trifles, beggars, and ascetics, plied their various callings profitably in the interval awaiting the Rani's departure for the White Turret.
Before the door a suite of officers and servants in gala liveries, surrounded a royal elephant, gorgeously caparisoned with plumes, and scarlet velvet cloths embroidered with gold thread. To its back was strapped a canopied statehoudahfor the use of the Rani.
Near by, a groom with difficulty controlled the impatient spirit of a pure blue-black Arabian charger, the property of Ahmad Khan. The Mohammedan noble had entered the palace to make his daily report to the Rani.
Presently, without ceremony, the Rani came forth. A short period of confusion ensued as the nobles hurriedly sought their horses, and the soldiers pressed back the throng surging about the palace.
The Rani paused on the steps and gazed round as if she missed a familiar object. In so doing her eyes chanced to rest approvingly upon Ahmad's mount.
"Whose brave steed is that"? she asked of an attendant.
Ahmad strode forward and acknowledged himself as its owner.
"A gift from the Amir of Bukhara," he explained, "in recognition of a slight military service rendered. I prize the beast more than all the occupants of my stables together. No one hath ever crossed his back but myself, and," he added, "I doubt if anyone would care to try."
"Ah," laughed the Rani. "Dost wager a challenge then on Akbar's behalf"?
"Not I, fair Rani," returned the Mohammedan, "for it might mean a speedy death to one so venturesome."
Impulsively the Rani walked toward the beast. "Akbar," she cried, "Dost recognize a friend with those clear eyes of thine"?
The animal started, arched its proud neck, and snorted defiantly.
"Come, good Akbar," exclaimed the Rani soothingly. "Come. Thou art too noble a beast to display malice to a woman."
Fearlessly she raised her arm and affectionately stroked the glossy neck, passing her hand gently downward across its face.
A tremor passed over the beast's frame. It stamped the ground and whinnied as if half pleased with the caress, yet still uncertain in its humor.
Ahmad hurried to the Rani's side, while others watched with expressions of alarm.
"Noble Lady," he urged. "I pray thee touch not the beast. Its temper is so uncertain that I cannot answer for your safety."
The Rani again laughed lightly, as she permitted the animal to sniff her hair, her face, and hands.
"Akbar knoweth whom to trust," she cried. "See, he discerneth a true Maratha, of whom it has been said, he is born in the saddle with a sword in his hand. I vow, O Ahmad," she added, "this day I will ride your Akbar, or go in no other manner to the White Turret."
Before Ahmad could interpose a further objection, she had gathered the reins in her hand, placed her foot in the stirrup, and sprung lightly on to the charger's back.
The horse swerved violently, then halted, with ears set back and form rigid.
A moment of suspense for those watching followed.
"Come Akbar," urged the Rani firmly, while gently patting the beast's neck. "Come, thou must curb thy temper for thou canst not throw a daughter of the Marathas."
The beast pricked up its ears at her voice, and neighed its subjection.
"Ah, Ahmad," she cried with taunting pleasantry, "thou must seek another mount. Why not ride in thehowdahof my elephant. How much didst thou wager, friend"?
"Surely the devil is in the girl," he muttered in astonished accents. "What will be her next performance"?
A servant approached the Rani deferentially.
"If my Lady Rani," said he, "elects to ride on horseback, will she let her pleasure be known concerning the noble elephant"?
"Truly," she replied. "If Ahmad Khan likes not to go in so much state, let my worthy secretary, Bipin Dat mount on high. From that exalted perch, he can survey the heavens and the earth complacently, frown majestically upon the populace, and imagine that he has at last become a Maharaja."
The Rani shook the reins and curveted to the front of her nobles.
Gallantly she led the brilliant cavalcade through the bazaars and streets to that part of the walls upon which the White Turret had been specially erected to fly her banner.
Plaudits saluted her progress on all sides. The people were accustomed to witness the exercise of greater personal freedom on the part of the Maratha ladies, to what is usually accorded women of high rank in other parts of India, but it was the first time they had beheld a princess of such beauty and high spirit leading, instead of being surrounded by the retinue of her court.
With admirable skill she controlled Ahmad's restive charger, until shortly, as if proud of its lovely burden, the beast followed obediently the guidance of her hand. At the bastion of the White Turret she dismounted and approached the spot where a group of officers awaited her arrival.
Her banner was already bent to the halliards, and heldby a lieutenant so that its silken folds might not be sullied by contact with the ground. Near by, a soldier stood at a gun ready to ignite the powder of a first salute as the flag rose upon its staff.
The nobles grouped themselves about the Rani. An officer holding the halliards begged to know her command.
For a moment she hesitated. Then as if a sudden impulse had taken possession of her mind, she took the ropes from his hand and turned toward the nobles.
"My Lords," she cried. "The Rani will herself raise her banner on the walls of Jhansi, aye, and defend it, against whatsoever enemy may come."
Slowly hand upon hand she pulled upon the rope. Slowly the banner, embroidered with her device, rose upon the staff. It reached the top and waved proudly in a gentle breeze against the pale blue morning sky. A white cloud of smoke for an instant hung over the ditch below the bastion, as the tongue of the cannon saluted her military rank. Spontaneously swords flashed in the bright sunlight: spontaneously a loud chorus rose, mingled with the repeated roar of the cannon, hailing the fair defender of a throne.
"Lachmi Bai! Lachmi Bai! Rani of Jhansi," they cried.
She gazed round with joyful gratitude. A moment later, the same wistful look that marked her countenance upon the palace steps, came back into her eyes.
She beckoned Ahmad to her side.
"Where is the noble Prasad Singh"? she asked. "I have not seen him since theDarbarof yesterday."
An expression of regret settled upon Ahmad's face.
"Noble Rani," he explained. "Prasad Singh is sick."
His manner and intonation, whether intentional or otherwise, clearly implied a desire to conceal another reason.
The Rani returned his gaze penetratingly.
"I would speak with thee upon our return to the palace," she enjoined.
Ahmad bowed his compliance to her wish.
The ceremony was over. The Rani thanked the nobles for their renewed demonstration of affection. She again urged them to lose no time in repairing the defenses of their fortresses, and in the arming and drilling of fresh troops. She bade them farewell until she would again summon them toDarbar.
So while the Rani's banner fluttered defiantly from the peak of the White Turret, the procession retraced its way to the palace. Upon the Rani's countenance happiness called forth by the enthusiastic greetings of the people, was occasionally shaded by a look of disappointment. Something evidently had been wanting to complete the gladness of the hour.
On dismounting she summoned Ahmad to follow her into the interior.
"My Lord," she said, when they were alone, "thy reply concerning Prasad Singh causeth me to suspect that something hath gone amiss with him. Hath thefoolish fellow taken umbrage at some new imaginary slight"?
Ahmad looked uneasy. He hesitated to reply, as if under the necessity of exercising prudent dissimulation.
"Thou dost not answer me," resumed the Rani, in a tone of some impatience. "Tell me, I command thee, why it was that Prasad Singh did not comply with my invitation to be present at the ceremony of the morning"?
"Fair Lady," Ahmad replied evasively, "surely the truth is, that the noble Prasad Singh is sick. I doubt not he was unable to be present."
"Sick is he," the Rani echoed, "Aye, but thy manner leadeth me to suspect another cause. I beg thee, good Ahmad, to tell me the nature of his malady. Is it a distemper of the mind"?
"Noble Rani," returned Ahmad, "Prasad Singh is sick. I ask thee to urge me to no further explanation."
"But I will urge thee," retorted the Rani imperiously. "I will have the whole truth from thee ere thou dost leave the palace."
Ahmad Khan appeared a victim of deep confusion.
"Most gracious Rani," he besought her, "I trust thou wilt not visit thy displeasure upon one who is my friend, my good comrade. Verily do I love Prasad as a brother. Ill would it seem in me to expose the pardonable follies of a gallant youth."
"Follies," exclaimed the Rani petulantly. "Speak! What follies hath Prasad Singh committed"?
Ahmad assumed an apologetic mien.
"Merely, noble lady," he replied, "the usual overflow of spirit in one of his high birth. He hath indulged too freely of the accursed spirits of the Foreigners."
A look of disdain settled on the Rani's face.
"So," she cried. "Like too many others he forgets the precepts of his caste. This, I did not think of Prasad. The spirits of the Foreigners! Truly one of the many curses brought to India in their civilizing wake." She concluded with intense bitterness in her voice.
"Noble Rani," continued Ahmad. "It was to draw him from the evil habit that I took him to my house; but alas! by some means he procured theGiours'intoxicating drink, and—"
He checked himself suddenly as if he would draw back from disclosing a moral precipice yawning beneath Prasad's life.
"And," caught up the Rani quickly. "And what more, good Ahmad Khan. What more hast thou to tell of Prasad"?
"Noble Rani," he petitioned with apparent earnestness. "I implore thee now to close my mouth."
"Nay, thou shalt open it the wider," she rejoined. "Speak, tell all thou knowest, I command thee."
"Miserable, faithless friend, that I must appear," he exclaimed self reproachfully.
"Thou wouldst be a disloyal servant if thou didst not obey thy Rani," she retorted. "Come! It is the Rani who commands thee."
He spoke in a tone of regretful emotion.
"Thou hast heard, noble Rani, of the charms of a certainnatchgirl, Ganga, by name"? he asked.
"Aye," she replied tersely.
"Alas! then," continued Ahmad. "The noble Prasad lyeth sick or drunk, I know not which, of the Giours' spirits and the subtle influence of this dancer of Kashmir."
For a moment even Ahmad quailed before the display of jealous anger on the Rani's face. She raised her arm with a threatening gesture as if about to give full play to her resentment; but as suddenly as the flame of passion had been called forth, as quickly it yielded to her control of temperament.
"Go," she commanded in a quiet voice, made more impressive by the emotion with difficulty suppressed. "Go, tell Prasad Singh, the Rani orders his presence hither immediately. If he delays, he may mount his horse and ride forth from her state.
"I have spoken," she concluded, turning from the Mohammedan.
"Noble Lady," petitioned Ahmad, "thou dost not blame thy servant for disclosing that which his conscience had enjoined him to conceal. Alas! Prasad hath eaten of Ahmad's salt."
"Thou hast obeyed my command," she replied. "In so doing thou didst well."
Ahmad bowed low and left the apartment.
The Rani turned again to watch his retreating form. When it had disappeared from view, sorrowfully she unfettered her emotion.
"Oh! that Prasad—Prasad, whom as a woman I have loved, and as the Rani I would honor, should appear in such a weak, a worthless light. Prasad, my Prasad," she cried, "that thou of all men shouldst be the shadow to darken my hour of happiness."
A sob broke from her lips. She covered her face with her hands.
In spite of the Rani's urgent dispatch, Ahmad returned leisurely to his house. If gravity rested on his face, his spirit was grimly elated at the successful progress of his design upon Prasad.
"The accursed Hindu," he muttered at intervals. "He is well enmeshed in the net God has placed in the hands of His humble servant."
Prasad expectantly awaited his host's arrival on the porch. He marked the Mohammedan's serious aspect and begged of him the reason.
"Hath something gone amiss, good friend"? he asked anxiously.
Ahmad waved his hand indifferently, as he drew Prasad to a room apart.
"It is nothing that can be defined clearly," he returned, "but a feeling of uneasiness caused by the Rani's capricious humor. One knows not what to expect of her next. At the ceremony of the morning she first insisted upon riding to the White Turret on my Arabian charger, Akbar; and then raised her banner with her own hands. In truth, though," he cried with a note of genuine admiration, "I cannot but own she made a brave display of spirit. She looked as gallant a captain as ever rode at the head of a troop. The people worship her, the noblesprostrate themselves at her feet, even Akbar, who never yet submitted to the caress of any mortal being, acted like a lover at the sound of her voice, and followed the guidance of her hand as obediently as a faithful hound. I confess I know not what to make of her."
"True, O Ahmad," acquiesced Prasad. "Thou hast in part stated my own sentiment in regard to her. I know not what to make of the peerless Rani. But tell me," he urged, "did she notice my absence? Did she by word or sign indicate her feeling"?
Ahmad replied thoughtfully.
"I make no doubt the Rani marked thy absence, O Prasad, for it seems nothing of any moment escapes her notice. But as she loveth thee, she is far too circumspect a woman to disclose her tender sentiment in public. A favor she may cast here and there, as in the case of this Dost Ali; but the expression of her deeper feeling she will keep for thy ear alone. Thou wilt doubtless hear from her in some covert manner. She will, in turn, up-braid thee for thy negligence, and lavish upon thee tributes of her devotion. Have patience, good friend, for it is no boast that Ahmad Khan hath not mingled in more than one court intrigue without learning somewhat of the devious ways of women. Thou must control thy passion for a little."
"Patience"! exclaimed the other with every sign of impatience. "How can I have patience when I think she may, even at this moment, be casting her ravishing smiles upon Dost Ali."
"Ah! Dost Ali," Ahmad returned contemptuously. "Think not of him. He is but a feather wafted to her feet to-day, and to-morrow blown by the wind of Fate, God alone knows whither."
Prasad cast himself wearily upon a divan.
"Ahmad," he exclaimed. "Verily am I sick. I know not what it is that ails me."
Ahmad regarded his guest with apparent concern.
"Aye," he responded, "thou dost look unwell. Thy brow is feverish. Thou art out of humor, and hadst better see a skilful physician who will soon set thee in order. One such as I have in mind, the worthy doctor and astrologer, Mohurran Goshi. He hath mastered all the ancient schools of medicine; a man of profound learning, a sure foreteller of things about to happen."
"I beg thou wouldst send for him quickly," besought Prasad, "that he may relieve me of the burden that seems to be crushing me to earth."
Ahmad readily complied. He summoned an attendant, by whom he dispatched an urgent call to the astrologer.
In the meantime he regaled Prasad with the gossip of the court. He told of the ceremony at the White Turret, referring insinuatingly to the favor displayed toward Dost Ali, and of the Rani's varying humor.
As a consequence Prasad's restlessness and jealousy increased, in spite of the mollifying clause which Ahmad invariably subjoined.
The jolting of a bullock cart as it rumbled along theuneven road leading up to Ahmad's door, told of the astrologer's arrival.
Ahmad went forth to meet him alone. As soon as the astrologer had alighted, the Mohammedan engaged him in a whispered conversation.
"Thou fully understandeth thy part, learned Astrologer," he said in conclusion.
"Most rightly, noble Lord," the other answered obsequiously.
"Thy reward shall be greater than even thy mind can conjure, if thou art successful in ridding Jhansi of this meddlesome interloper," Ahmad promised. He conducted the astrologer-physician to Prasad's side.
In a bag slung over one shoulder, Mohurran Goshi carried his medicinal pills and ointments; while in the hand of the other arm, he grasped his calendar, and certain instruments pertaining to the occult branch of his dual profession. He approached Prasad and felt the patient's pulse gravely. Gravely, too, he examined Prasad's tongue, shook his head several times significantly, and then betook himself to a seat on the floor near by, where he absorbed his mind in a deep scrutiny of his calendar, intermittently muttering an unintelligible jargon.
As a result he finally delivered a sage diagnosis of the case.
"It is clear, noble sir," he said, addressing Prasad, "that the origin of your malady lies in the evil influence of an enemy working through the affection of one upon whom your heart is set, but whose notice he has temporarilybeguiled. Most fortunate is it that you have called to your assistance, in time, a physician-astrologer, by profound study and long experience, well fitted to combat such designs."
Mohurran Goshi glanced craftily toward Ahmad, and gleaning that thus far his opinion was being well received, proceeded:
"By a sure sign I can demonstrate to you, great sir, the truth of what I affirm, that I am able to avert impending misfortune on your behalf, restore the object of your affection to your arms, and further you in your ambition. Soon will your sickness pass away like darkness before the rising sun. Is it the noble Lord's pleasure that I should do this"?
Prasad had not escaped the atmosphere of superstition in which the majority of his race had from time unknown been reared. In his condition of mind he was more than ready to fall a victim to the wiles of the astrologer.
"Do so," he replied. "From what you have said I feel great confidence in your ability."
The astrologer first called for a bowl of water in which he requested Prasad to wash his hands and forearms. Then he produced a splinter of bone which he required his patient to hold in the water, while he muttered in a low tone for several minutes.
The incantation over, he bade Prasad withdraw his hand from the water, when there appeared, a little above the wrist, the blotch of a human form impressed upon the skin by some dark stain.
The astrologer pointed to the mark on Prasad's arm with triumph.
"Behold, my Lord," he cried, "the image of thine enemy, the one who seeks to do thee so much injury."
Both Ahmad and Prasad expressed their astonishment at what appeared to them a miraculous display of the astrologer's skill.
"Now, my Lord," resumed Mohurran Goshi. "If it be thy pleasure that I should foil this enemy of thine, thou hast but to give thy command."
Prasad well understood the covert allusion to a fee in advance implied by the astrologer, and produced a handful of silver coins to secure his valuable services.
These, the astrologer tucked safely away on his person, and then proceeded to destroy the malign influence aiming for his patient's ruin.
From Prasad's hand he took the bone, and smeared it with an ointment, which he declared was composed of the most precious ingredients—the fat of a cobra, the blood of a white rat, salt, and the hoof of an animal unknown to them. He then rubbed the blotch on Prasad's arm with the bone for a space, again muttering unintelligibly, when lo! the image had disappeared.
The astrologer solemnly held up the bone before his patient's eyes.
"Into this, noble sir, have I gathered the influence which causes you so much bodily and mental anguish."
With wonder, the eyes of the two nobles gazed upon the bone fraught with so much magic charm. Thoughas a Mohammedan, Ahmad affected to scoff at the mysterious science professed by the astrologer, his hereditary instinct at times caused him momentary qualms, when inexplicable demonstrations of its power were afforded.
The astrologer next called for a metal tray, a seed, and a gold coin. These produced, he placed the seed, the gold coin, and the piece of bone together on the tray, and once more solemnly muttered incantations over them. As Ahmad and Prasad watched intently, in a twinkling the bone leaped into the air and disappeared.
"Thus, my Lord," cried Mohurran Goshi, "will thy trouble depart from thee, if thou art careful to follow my directions."
Prasad breathed a deep sigh of relief as if already a great weight had been lifted from his mind.
The astrologer then took the coin and passed it several times over his patient's head, muttering incantations as before, and finally inserted it in a fold of Prasad's turban. In the process it strangely changed from the precious metal into copper, another convincing proof of the astrologer's extraordinary power over inanimate things.
He then took the seed, and wrapping it in a sheet of paper bearing cabalistic signs, handed it to Prasad.
"This," said he, "is to place beneath your pillow, which, with the coin, will surely ward off a return of the evil influence. Now as to the medicine for your body."
From his bag he drew forth several pills, compounded, he asserted, of ground pearls, coral, and an herb of wonderfulmedicinal virtue, only found with difficulty in the high altitudes of the Himalayas. These he enjoined Prasad to take at certain intervals, setting a price upon them that might have warranted their curative power over any ill to which mortal flesh is heir.
"Now," said he, "it will be well for you not to leave the illustrious Ahmad Khan's roof for some days, during which I will call to mark your progress, but," he added insinuatingly, "if through the medium of a discreet friend, the object of your affection could be brought to your side, there is no doubt you would attain a speedy recovery. A slight cloud is still suspended over your head, but with my aid, be assured, it will be dispelled at the fitting moment."
Mohurran Goshi then gave some directions regarding the patient's food, gathered his effects together, consigned the two nobles to the protection of God,salaamedseveral times before them, and went forth to climb into his rickety bullock cart.
"A sage and skilful physician," remarked Ahmad approvingly.
"Undoubtedly," coincided Prasad. "Now that he hath assured me that the accursed Dost Ali will be removed from my path, I feel a change for the better."
"Did I not assure thee that with patience all would come well," rejoined Ahmad.
"Aye, truly, good friend; but didst thou remark the last advice of the learned physician"? asked Prasad.
"Regarding the mission of a discreet friend"? queried Ahmad in return.
"To be sure."
"That is an easy matter," exclaimed Ahmad reassuringly. "To-morrow when I make my report to the Rani I can prudently disclose to her thy unhappy condition. No one, good Prasad, can for a purpose assume a more sympathetic tone of voice, or a more pleading expression, than thy friend the man of arms. In a moment, I warrant, the fair Rani will be at thy side."
"Do this for me," returned Prasad in a grateful voice, "and there is nothing thou canst not ask of me."
Ahmad vowed solemnly that it would be his chief duty on the morrow.
"And now," said he. "If thou art ordered a meagre diet, the learned astrologer-physician said nothing against a bountiful feast for the eyes. Let us see what the fair Ganga can do to assist us in passing a leisure hour."
"As thou wilt," returned Prasad, evincing but little interest in his host's suggestion. "Ganga is well enough doubtless for one whose soul is not captivated by an incomparable form."
Ahmad glanced with the suggestion of a smile toward his guest.
"The swine," he muttered underneath his breath.