Fazil was as good as his word to his fair sister, and having seen Bulwunt depart, gained the door which led to the private apartments, and proceeded to that in which he knew he should find her.
The room was upon the first story, which, by means of deep stone brackets, had been constructed so as to project somewhat over therooms beneath. It contained, indeed for the most part consisted of, three large oriel windows, overhanging the line of the walls, so that they commanded a view up and down the main street, which led to Toorweh and the royal palaces. These windows were large enough for several persons to sit in and enjoy the air; and the floor of the centre one, which was the largest, was raised a step above that of the room, so as to form a dais, on which a thickly-quilted cotton mattress, covered with clean white muslin, was laid every day, and furnished with large pillows, so that those sitting there could recline luxuriously, if they pleased. Between the stone mullions of the windows, carved screens or shutters of wood had been inserted, which were fixtures, except a portion in the centre which opened on hinges. Without them were heavy wooden shutters, lined with iron, with openings to fire from should it be needed.
The other windows did not project so far, and were in fact single arches, filled deep with carved latticework, closed during the day, but open in the evening to admit the fresh air. Beside each was a large Persian carpet and a pillow. The floor of the apartment had also a thin carpet of quilted cotton cloth, covered with white muslin; and the perfect neatness of the whole, the walls being pure white without ornament, gave evidence of very vigilant superintendence by the Khan's present wife, perhaps by Zyna herself. One lamp burned in a corner, and, being agitated by the wind, which blew freely through the apartment, gave a flickering light, which left much of the space in actual gloom.
Zyna had been there some time, and the sweet freshness of the evening air had tempted her to throw open the lattice window to admit it more freely, as she sat in the balcony or oriel window already mentioned. Looking out upon what was passing below her, she did not observe her brother's entrance, and almost started as he spoke.
"I did not hear thee, brother," she said, rising and making way for him. "Come and sit here, it is so fresh after the rain. What kept thee so late? We hear the Durbar was very full to-day, and that there are more rumours of war. O, I pray not, brother?"
"True, sister, there are such rumours," he replied; "but nothing new. The Wuzeer is at Nuldroog with the army. The Emperor's forces lie about Dowlutabad, so there is no change. But I was not in Durbar. I was looking after some other matters. Come and sit here, Zyna, and I will tell thee. See," he continued, as she seated herself by him, "the city looks calm and beautiful, does it not? Yet, who can tell the wild acts now in progress there, and the wild plots which disgrace it?"
In truth it was a fair scene. The house or palace of Afzool Khan stood somewhat apart from other buildings, upon a slight eminence,and the room they were in overlooked a large portion of the city to the south, west, and north. Between the combined twilight and light of a moon about half-full, the outlines of the city generally, and of some of the most remarkable buildings, could be seen distinctly, and formed a picture of great beauty. To the north, the large dome of the mausoleum of Mahmood Adil Shah stood out boldly against the clear grey sky, as well as the high dark masses of the King's palaces in the citadel, and of that of the "Seven Stories" in particular, in the windows of which lights already twinkled here and there, and disappeared.
A little on the left of the palace was the massive cavalier of the "Oopree Boorje," with the King's flagstaff on its summit; below, the dark lines of the fortifications, with lights gleaming from each guard-room upon the bastions. Thence the eye travelled round the city, resting here and there upon massive domes and slender minarets, shining tenderly in the moon's rays, which also fell softly upon the outlines of terraced houses and palaces, and upon the dark masses of foliage of their gardens. Over the most populous parts of the city also nearer to them, the evening smoke hovered like a thin mist, catching reflection of the thousand lights and fires beneath: and a hum of voices arose from thence:—otherwise, all was still around them, and the broad street leading to Toorweh nearly deserted. Night was fast falling, and a bright star here and there already sparkled in the sky.
"Yes, it is a fair scene, sister," he continued, as she drew closer to him. "Yet, even now, men are plotting villany and treachery. There is no peace in it."
"No peace, brother!" she said, echoing his words; "cannot others be as we are—enjoying what Alla sends them without strife? Why should it not be so?"
"Why, Zyna? because of ambition, which, with the hot thirst it begets, dries up men's hearts; because of avarice, driving them to barter kingdoms and honour for gold; because of fraud, and deceit, and lies, and profligacy. Alas, girl, where ends the catalogue? Even now I fear the evil thoughts and treacherous plots of our fair city."
Zyna shuddered, and nestled closer to her brother. "Why is thy speech so sad to-night, Fazil?" she said timidly; "does aught threaten us or our friends?"
"Listen, sister, and judge," he returned. "I cannot help these fancies. Ah, Zyna! if I had one like thee to be with me always—to be more to me even than thou art—perhaps the world, fair as it lies there, would have few charms for me."
"She would be forgotten before a bright sword or a gallant horse, brother," replied Zyna, in a tone of raillery.
"Not so, by the Prophet!—by your head and eyes; no, Zyna," cried her brother earnestly. "Let such an one come, and thou wilt see what she would be to me."
"Would it were so, brother! and yet I know of no one—not one as yet—whom thou couldst love like me. None of the maidens of this city are worthy of thee; no, not one, Fazil."
"Ah! nothing less than one of the blessed houris of Paradise would content thee for me," returned the young man, laughing; "but one like thyself would quite content me, sister. Perhaps even now thou hast been thinking I have some love-secret to tell thee, for I have not accounted for my delay these two evenings, but love there is none, dearest. No—none at all," as she shook her head and laughed incredulously,—"none. A graver matter, truly, if I am right. Listen, Zyna, I have told thee of Kowas Khan before—my friend, the Wuzeer's son——"
"What of him?" she returned, so abruptly that her tone of alarm startled her brother. "Yes," she continued, correcting herself, "surely—often—dear brother, hast thou not told me of his bravery when the Moghuls besieged the city? but do not mention him, else I will go away."
"Nay, go not, Zyna. I will not tease thee," he replied, "yet why should I not speak of him? Is he not a hero—a very Roostum? Is he not beautiful?—a youth for a maiden to love, or a man to make his friend! But enough of this," for he perceived the confusion his last words had occasioned: "to say the truth, I am anxious for the whole family, and there is much cause to fear; the Wuzeer is not keeping his faith with the King. But for that, indeed——"
"Hush, brother!" said Zyna, again blushing, for she knew that she had been sought in marriage by the Wuzeer for his son; "may God forbid evil to him or any of them; and men have as yet spoken well of him. Why should he be suspected?"
"Alas, who can say?" replied her brother sadly. "Who can tell to what crimes pride and ambition may not urge a man? Truly, sister, it will not be marvellous if the Wuzeer, seeing the danger of the Moghuls on the one hand, of Sivaji Bhóslay on the other, and knowing better than we do the divisions among our own nobles, should forget his faith, and try to strike in for himself. 'Twas thus, so writes the historian of honoured memory, Mahomed Kasim Ferishta, that our own kingly house rose into existence, and the Nizam Shahy and Kootub Shahy dynasties also; what wonder, then, that Khan Mahomed—the rich, the honoured, the powerful—should be tempted to follow examples so successful and so prosperous?"
"What! and forget his King, who has raised him from—from——" she could not add slavery; "forget honours, titles, lands, wealth? O brother!"
"Ah, Zyna," returned Fazil, sighing, "believe me, there are few minds so noble, and so humble too, as to despise power in little things; how much less a position so exalted as that of monarch of these noble realms. Men have already forgotten 'Rehân' the slave, in 'Khan Mahomed,' the Wuzeer of Beejapoor. We know what he was, we see what he is, and we can think what he might be. If he is playing for the highest stake, it is a game in which his life is of no account."
"I would I had not known of this, brother, from thy lips," said Zyna sadly. "True, it seems to have a terrible distinctness: and his son?"
"Nay, by your head and eyes, he is pure, Zyna. My own dear friend," he exclaimed, "I would answer for him with my life. As for the rest, 'tis but suspicion as yet. Whatever the matter I know of may lead to, I am resolved to see the last of it. Listen.
"Last evening I was coming from the Durbar, and, dismissing the men who were with me, I rode to some open ground to exercise my horse. It is not far from the King's palace at Toorweh: and to get there I proceeded through the outskirts of the city, which lead to the quarter of the lower orders of the people. I had not ridden far when I met the palankeen of the King's secretary, attended by some horsemen. It seemed strange to meet him there, because, when I left the audience hall, he seemed immersed in business. So I rode up towards it with the intention of saluting him again, when he shut the door as it were carelessly, but, as I thought, with an evident desire not to be seen: this stimulated my curiosity. I had no pretence for following him, only there happened to be an acquaintance, who was in command of his escort, and who called me. I joined him, unobserved by the Meerza, and accompanied him under pretence of friendly chat. By-and-by, as the better part of the town grew more distant, I asked him banteringly what had brought so great a person as the King's Meerza into so mean a quarter, and whether I might see the end of the adventure; and looking about him—to be sure the rest of the escort were out of hearing—he told me that, after leaving the court, the Meerza had first gone to a respectable Hindu house in another quarter and remained there some time; and when he came out he was attended to the door by a Hindu soldier, who bade him depart, and told him not to forget the shop of Rama of Ashtee, in the 'kullal's' quarter, and Tannajee Maloosray. Thence a man was sent as guide to another house, and he showed him to me then running with the bearers before the palankeen. 'So I can only suppose it is some work of the King's,' added my friend, 'with which we cavaliers have nothing to do.' I thought otherwise, for Tannajee's name is famous; and we rode on.
"After some time the guide stopped at the door of a decent house, which I think was a Jungum's Mutt. The Meerza did not get out of his palankeen, and a man came to the doorway and began to speak in Persian, after having looked round suspiciously at all of us. I shall not forget the man, Zyna, for he had piercing grey eyes and a hooked nose. I suppose he thought no one could understand him, for he did not speak low. Still, as his head was partly inside the door of the secretary's palankeen, I could not hear all, and could only approach, indeed, on pretence of my horse being restless. I heard, however, the man's direction to the secretary, a Hindu temple of Bhowani, in the plain on the east of the fort, where papers were to be shown at midnight, and the Wuzeer's name was mentioned. Thither I will go, 'Inshalla!' to-night. I can disguise myself, and my speech is Mahratta or Canarese, as I please, and Bulwunt Rao goes with me."
"Go not, my precious brother," said Zyna, interrupting him; "there must be danger among these plotters. Remember what thou art to us all, Fazil."
"If my love were not what it is for Khan Mahomed's son," he replied, "I would not hazard this matter; but we, thy father and myself, owe the Wuzeer many favours, and I should hold myself false did I hesitate to peril something in their cause. Even thou, Zyna, hast not forgotten how Kowas Khan and our brave Bulwunt Rao fought over me when I had been stricken down in the Friday's fight with the Moghuls, and but for them I had perished. Yes, sister, I must go."
"Go? whither, son?" said Afzool Khan, whose entrance had not been observed by either; "whither wouldst thou go, and for what?"
"Father!" uttered both at the same moment, and, rising, saluted him reverently.
"Be seated, my children," he said; "I too will join you. Your mother hath not been here?"
The allusion made was to their father's second wife, whom he had married after the mother of his children died, and who received from them all the honour and respect, if not the tender love, of their real mother. Her name was Lurlee, to which her title of Khánum being added, she was known among her friends and dependants as Lurlee Khánum; and she will appear presently in her proper person.
"No, father," replied Zyna, "she was going to cook something for you, and had something to do with her tables; and said that there was something going to happen, for that Mars and the moon, or stay—really I don't know, father, how it was—I forget."
"Ah," returned her father, smiling, "bicharee—poor thing!—those stars are a sad trouble to her. But what art thou going to do, son?"
"Tell him all you have told me, brother," said Zyna.
Fazil recapitulated what he had told his sister, and finding his father interested, again stated his intention of following up the secret, whatever it might be.
"Go, my son," said the old Khan, "I cannot gainsay thee in this matter. If we can protect Khan Mahomed or keep evil from his house, or if any of these vile plots can be traced to those concerned in them, a few sharp examples may deter others. But why not take some of the Päègah? those are dangerous quarters by night."
"Impossible, father, they are too wary; and Bulwunt Rao says there will be spies and scouts watching everywhere. So we are better alone, and with your leave, father, I go to prepare myself."
Afzool Khan opened the casement, and looked out. He partly leaned out of the window, and appeared to be gazing abstractedly over the city. The young moon was now low in the sky, and the stars shone out more brilliantly than before; but clouds were gathering fast in the south-west, which, from the lightning flashing about their tops, boded a storm. As yet, however, the gentle light of the moon pervaded all, glinting from the bright gilded pinnacles of domes and minarets, and resting tenderly upon the white terraces, walls, and projecting oriels of houses near him—upon the tapering minarets of his own private mosque, and the heavy but graceful foliage that hung about them.
"It is a type of what is coming," thought the Khan—"here the moonlight only partially dispelling the gloom, which will increase; there heavy night-clouds already threatening. Even so with our fair kingdom: the tempest of sorrow may break over us. We cannot stop it, but we may at least endure the trial, and be true to our salt."
He was long silent, and the beads which he had removed from his wrist were passing rapidly through his fingers, while his lips moved as though in prayer. Zyna dared not speak, yet he looked at her lovingly as his lips still moved, and passing his arm round her, drew her to him. Perhaps with that embrace more tender thoughts came into his heart, some memories that were sad yet grateful.
"There will be no danger, Zyna," he said assuringly, as he felt her trembling, and guessed her thoughts; "Fazil and Bulwunt Rao are both wary. The moon, too, is setting, and it will be dark, perhaps raining. He comes, daughter," continued the Khan, as Fazil's foot was heard on the stairs; "let us look at him."
As he spoke, Fazil entered the room and made the Hindu salutation of reverence to his father. "Should I be known as your son, father?" he asked.
"Nemmo Narrayen Baba," cried Afzool Khan, laughing, and returning the salutation in the same style. "If thou knowest thyself, it is more than I can say of thee."
The disguise was indeed perfect. Fazil was naked to the waist, and a coarse cloth of some length, which might serve as a sheet if unwound, was crossed upon his shoulders and chest in thick folds. A long scarf of thick soft muslin was tied about his loins, leaving his muscular arms bare and free. On his chest and about his neck was a necklace, consisting of several heavy rows of large wooden beads, which, with the cloth, might turn a sword-cut, while both served to protect him from the damp night wind. About his head was a turban of coarse cloth, and a strip of finer material, passing under his chin, covered his mouth and eyes, and was tied in a knot above his turban, leaving two hood ends hanging down on each side. His face was smeared with white earth, and above his nose the broad trident of Krishna was painted in white and red, covering nearly the whole of his eyebrows and forehead. The loose Mahomedan drawers had been changed for a Hindu waist-cloth, or "punja," tied tightly about him, and reaching barely to his knee; while the ends were rolled up, leaving his legs and most part of his thighs bare, which, with his arms, were covered with brown earth to subdue the fairness of the skin. The whole of his clothes were of one colour, a deep reddish brown, which is called "bhugwa," and is the sacred and distinctive colour of all religious devotees. At his back hung a broad black shield with steel bosses upon it, and he held in his hand a sabre with a plain steel hilt and black scabbard, which his father recognized as a favourite weapon. Nothing could have been better suited for his guise than the whole equipment, nor was there anything left to desire in its perfect adaptation to resistance or flight, should either be necessary.
"Bulwunt waits for me in the garden, and I go. Thy blessing, my father," said Fazil, stooping forward.
"Go. May Alla, and the saints, and the holy Emaon Zamin protect thee!" said the Khan, rising, and placing his hands tenderly on his son's head. "Go, and return victorious!"
"Ameen! ameen!" (amen!) sighed Zyna, for her heart was with her brother, as he turned to depart upon his perhaps perilous mission.
"You have not stayed long, Meah, after all," cried the cheery voice of Bulwunt Rao, as he saw his young master approaching the place of meeting, a large peepul tree, which stood at a back entrance to the garden. "And you are as good as your word. I thought there might be some lecture from 'the Mastu,' and some remonstrances from the Khánum, and possibly that the stars were not to be overcome; but all seems to have gone well. Did they know you?"
"My sister seemed rather frightened as she saw me, and shrank back, but my father declared me perfect, and bade me God-speed," replied Fazil; "but look over me once more: dark as it is, it might be a matter of life or death if we were discovered."
"Discovered, Meah! No, trust me for that!" replied Bulwunt. "Only keep that courtly tongue of yours quiet, or if you speak at all, let it be in Canara, which somehow suits you better than our soft Mahratta, and let it be as broad as you can make it. Leave the rest to me. 'Mahrattas know Mahrattas,' is one of our common proverbs, not untrue either. No salaams, Meah! If there be occasion to salute any one, you know the mode. So—join your hands and thumbs together, carry them up to your nose. There, your thumbs along the nose—good. Now a gentle inclination of the head, very little——Shabash! that was excellent. Take care that no Bundagee or Salaam Alyèk—or other Moslem salutation escape you: if you have need, a soft 'Numuscar Maharaj,' or if we meet a Gosai, 'Nemmo Narrayen Bawa!' Or, better than all—why risk anything? keep a silent tongue, and leave me to talk."
"Nay, not so fast, friend," cried the young Khan, smiling at his follower's earnestness, "fear not for me; I know enough of the customs of the dress I wear to bear me out if need be, and I would fain have my tongue as my hands are—at liberty. No ganja, I hope, since your brain is clear."
"By your head and eyes, no, Meah, I have only drunk water since you first called me," he replied earnestly; "look here," and he executed one of the most difficult of the movements which accompanied his sword exercise,—"will that do?"
"Let us on then, friend, in the name of all the saints, for we have enough to do ere morning, and it is some distance to the temple."
"Nearly a coss, Meah, and we have to pass some bad places beyond the deer park. Come, let nothing induce you to enter into a brawl, or notice insult, or we shall fail. If we are attacked, we can strike in return. Come!"
So saying, they moved on rapidly and silently to the Hindu temple which Bulwunt Rao knew of. Their appearance—for both were attired as nearly as possible alike, except that Bulwunt had concealed more of his face than his companion—was too common and unobtrusive to attract attention, and they passed unnoticed through the respectable portions of the city, meeting, however, few passers in the now dark and deserted streets.
Passing the wall of the deer park, and skirting the walls and glacis of the citadel, patches of open rocky ground succeeded, where a few sleepless asses picked up a scanty night meal, and the houseless dogs of the city snarled and fought over the carrion carcases of cattle, or the offal which had been thrown out there, or disputedtheir half-picked bones with troops of jackals. Now they met men at intervals, who, with muffled faces and scarcely concealed weapons, watched for unwary single passengers, from whom by threat or violence they might be able to extort the means of temporary debauchery. Some such looked scowlingly upon the friends, and sometimes even advanced upon them; but seeing at a nearer glance no hope of anything but hard blows, passed them by unheeded.
"Many a good fellow has had an end of him made hereabouts," said Bulwunt in a low voice, as they passed a more conspicuous group than usual, who seemed inclined to dispute the way with them. "How much would there be found of a man by morning, to ascertain what he had been in life, if his body were thrown upon one of those heaps of carrion, which the hyenas, dogs, and jackals are fighting over? Do you not hear them yelling?—Bah! that would be an ugly fate, and that is why I seldom venture into this quarter by night."
"Then you come sometimes?"
"Why not, Meah? Are there not adventures enough for those who seek them? I tell thee, many a young noble, ay, and old one too, that I could name, come here after dark and amuse themselves gaily for an hour or two; but thou art not of that sort, Meah; else I had brought thee long ago."
"And that is the quarter yonder, I suppose," said the young man, "above which the light gleams brightly."
"You are right, Meah; a few minutes more and we enter it."
A scene it was of coarse open profligacy. Shops of a low character for the sale of spirits were everywhere open, filled with flaming lamps, or before which stood large iron cressets filled with cotton seed soaked in oil, that burned brightly, sending forth a thick ropy smoke, and showing groups of men, women, and children too, sitting on the ground, drinking the hot new liquor, or the more rapidly intoxicating juice of the date palm-tree; which, contained in large earthen jars, was being dispensed by ladlesful to people clustered around them. All this part resounded with obscene abuse, and songs, and violent wrangling. In one group two men had drawn their daggers, and were with difficulty held back by women hanging about them. In another place, two women had hold of each other's hair, and were beating and scratching each other with their disengaged hands.
They passed through all; many a gibe and coarse invitation familiar to Bulwunt Rao, who, had he been alone, could not have resisted them, followed them from men and women. But he was for the time steady, checked by the presence of his young chief, and with the fierce desire of meeting his hereditary enemy burning at his heart. They were now near the place in regard to whichBulwunt thought he could not be mistaken. A little further there was a Hindu temple gaily decked out with white and orange-coloured banners; people were singing evening hymns within it, and their voices rose even above the hoarse murmur of the crowd, and there was a clash of cymbals accompanying them. Bulwunt stopped, and laid his hand on his companion's arm.
"That is the temple," he said, "by which I know the kullal's, and that is where we shall meet Tannajee, if at all. That is Rama of Ashtee's shop across the street."
"And is the other temple far off?" asked Fazil.
"Not now; a few more turns down the back lanes yonder, and we shall find it among the tamarind trees in the plain. We will go there at once."
Bulwunt knew the place perfectly. A quiet secluded spot, where often, stupid from the effects of ganja, or drink, he had gone to sleep off the effects before he went home. A place where one or two Jogis, or Gosais, or Sunniasis of ascetic orders, usually put up, or travellers sometimes going eastwards, who had to be clear of the city before dawn. The grove, too, was a favourite place for encampment, and droves of Brinjarries, or other public carriers, halted there in fair weather. Now, however, it was quite vacant, and the natural gloom of the place was deepened by the darkness of the night, while the glare to which their eyes had been exposed, caused it to seem more gloomy still.
"An evil-looking place, friend, at this hour," said Fazil.
"Ay, Meah, dark enough; yet better than the light we have left yonder," he replied, pausing and looking back to where the glare of the kullal's quarter rose into the dark night air above the houses;—"better than that. Yet it is a strange place to come to at night, unless there be any one here. Be cautious, Meah, I will look in."
The temple was a small one, upon a low basement; the high conical roof or steeple could hardly be traced among the heavy foliage that enveloped it. There was a court around it, the wall of which was not so high on one side but that a man standing on tip-toe might look over it; and as Fazil was about to do so, Bulwunt Rao pulled him back.
"For your life, no," he whispered, "some one is there. I saw the flicker of a fire yonder; come round to the back of the verandah. I know of a hole in the wall which is not filled up."
Fazil followed. His companion was right. A hole had been left in the wall for light or air, and some loose stones and bricks stuffed into it. Just enough aperture remained for both to see plainly what was therein. On two sides of the small court, opposite to the temple, was a terraced building roughly built, the pillars supporting the clay roof being of rudely-hewn timber. The basement waslevel with that of the temple, and ascended by three low steps in the centre. Three persons were sitting on the floor near the embers of a fire; two enveloped in white sheets, which were drawn over their heads, and partly over their faces; they might be Brahmuns, who had been worshipping at the temple. The other was a "Jogi," or ascetic, who, in all his majesty of dirt and ashes—his hair matted and twisted about his head like a turban, the ends of a long grizzly beard tucked over his ears, and naked to the waist—sat cross-legged upon a deer's skin before the embers, which cast a dull and flickering light upon his naked body.
Occasionally, with his right hand, he took ashes from the fire and rubbed them over his broad hairy chest and sinewy arms, and occasionally over his face, telling his beads the while with his left. None of the men spoke. Could they be the persons of whom they were in search?
"I fear we are wrong, Bulwunt," whispered Fazil, "these must be Brahmuns with that Jogi."
"I know of no other temple, Meah," returned Bulwunt; "but wait here, I will go round to the door and question them."
"Be careful, friend; I like not the look of the old Jogi; be careful," interrupted Fazil.
"Nay, I am not going to quarrel with him," continued Bulwunt Rao; "but watch what they do. You will see all their faces if they turn to me." And with cautious steps he moved in.
The door of the temple was in front. Bulwunt had seen it was partially opened when they arrived. Fazil heard it creak on its hinges as Bulwunt opened it, and saw him emerge from behind the basement of the temple; and amidst a rough cry of "who comes?" "who art thou?" from the three persons, walk slowly and firmly up to the basement of the verandah, and make the customary reverential salutation.
"Thou art a bold fellow," exclaimed one of the men covered with a sheet, who stood up, looking at Bulwunt from head to foot, "to intrude upon respectable people unbidden. A Gosai, too, whence art thou?"
"I am a poor disciple of Amrut Geer, of Kullianee, if ye know the town," answered Bulwunt, deferentially; "and they call me Poorungeer. I have come to the city on business, and have travelled far to-day. I often put up here, and, as I saw lights, I entered, in the hope of shelter for the night. It will rain presently, and, with your permission, I will take a drink of water and rest here."
"There is plenty of water in the well without," returned the man sulkily; "and there are the iron bucket and cord—take them and begone. There are a thousand Gosain's Mutts in Beejapoor, why shouldst thou stay here?—begone!"
"Nay, be not inhospitable, O Bawa!" returned Bulwunt. "I am weary and footsore; it is a long way to the only Mutt, I know, and it is not safe for a man alone to pass the plain at night."
"I tell thee begone," said the Jogi; "there is no room for thee here; begone, else we will turn thee out."
"Direct me, then, to a resting-place, good sirs," replied Bulwunt. "I would give no offence; I pray ye be not angry." "Nay," he continued, observing a gesture of impatience; "behold, I am gone. I would not be unwelcome. Only say, O Jogi, what this temple is called?"
"This is the temple of Toolja Dévi, and dedicated to the Holy Mother at Tooljapoor," replied the man. "If thou hast need to visit it, come to-morrow, and thou wilt see the image. Depart now, or these worthy men may be angry. Thou hast interrupted already a discourse on the mysteries——"
"Which would have benefited me, Bawa, also. I shall not forget their inhospitality. Now I depart." And saluting the Jogi, who lifted his hand to his head, and staring fixedly at the others, whose faces were plainly visible by the light of the fire, which had blazed up, Bulwunt Rao left them.
"Listen, Meah," whispered Bulwunt to Fazil, as he rejoined him. "These are the people, no doubt; there are some holes in the wall behind them, which I saw when within; come round to them, we shall see and hear better, and can listen to the old Jogi's discourse on the mysteries; no doubt it will be edifying. The old Jogi is some one, I think, in disguise, but it is well done. Come, and tread softly."
The light tread of their naked feet was not heard amidst the rustling of the trees above; and, as Bulwunt had said, there were several holes in the wall which enabled them to see and hear perfectly, except when the conversation was carried on in the lowest whispers. They were, however, on the highest side of the court wall.
"We are right now," whispered Fazil; "but have the weapons ready in case of need. I like not the Jogi nor his friends."
The inmates of the little building were silent for some time, and one of them, who had kept his face concealed, at length lay down, and drew his sheet over him. The other two smoked at intervals. Now one, now the other, lighting the rude cocoa-nut hooka with embers from the fire before them.
"Didst thou know that lad, Pahar Singh—that Gosai?" asked his companion. "Methinks he was more than he seemed. I know most of that old robber Amrut Geer's cheylas, too, but not him; he may be a new one perhaps. Only I wish I had not seen him; there was an evil eye in his head;" and the speaker's shoulders twitched as though a slight shudder had passed through him.
"What dost thou care about evil eyes, Maun Singh?" replied the Jogi, laughing. "I know not the man, and why should he trouble thee, brother? Depend upon it he was no more than he seemed, else why should he have named Amrut Geer of Tooljapoor? Why art thou thus suspicious?" And he again applied himself to the hooka, whose bubbling rattle rang through the building.
"Nay, it does not signify, only one does not like to be intruded upon, that's all. I had as well shut the door of the temple, brother."
"Do not bolt it," cried the Jogi; "they will be here soon," as the man went and closed it; then returned, and with another shrug or shiver, lay down, when both relapsed into silence.
"Pahar Singh!" whispered Bulwunt to the young Khan; "the robber, murderer, rebel, what you please. The man after whom we wandered so long last year. Ah, 'tis a rare plot, Meah, if such be the instruments."
"Hush!" said Fazil; "they are speaking again. Listen!"
"Where did you get those papers, O Toolsee Das?" asked Pahar Singh of the man who had been lying down. "What, hast thou been asleep? Tell me again, lest I make a mistake."
"Not I, please your Highness," replied the person addressed, raising himself upon his arm; "but if you talk in that gibberish language of your country, what am I to do? It is dull work waiting when one's eyes are heavy with sleep, and I am not rested from that fearful ride."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Pahar Singh; "that ride, Lalla! O man! it was but a child's ride after all, only forty coss. You will be lively enough by-and-by. Now, if you can speak without lying, tell me truly, are those papers genuine or not?"
"My lord," replied the Lalla, sitting up; "they who come will best know that. If they had not been genuine they would not have been worth the stealing, nor these long journeys, to which your servant is not accustomed, nor the risk of being compared with original documents. I told my lord this before, and——"
"True, Lalla," said Pahar Singh, interrupting him; "but one likes to hear a thing over again when it is pleasant. Ha, ha! when it is pleasant, you know——"
"When the honour of great houses is at stake we Mutsuddees have to be proportionably careful," returned the Lalla pompously; "and when your poor servant saw what these were, you see—my consideration for the king—for this state—may it flourish a thousand years—was great, and I—I, ahem—brought them away——"
"You mean you stole them, Lalla? Out with the truth, good fellow."
"Well, sir, if you don't like my words. Yes, I stole them, and itwas a blessed chance which has enabled me to turn them to such good account," said the Lalla, smiling blandly. "Excellent indeed, my lord; and I," continued the Lalla, rubbing his hands, "ha! ha! my lord, and I——"
"Ha! ha! ha!" responded Pahar Singh, interrupting him with a coarse laugh. "We shall see. No blood in that robbery, Maun Singh. Ours are seldom so neatly done, I think; but the Lalla is a master of his craft. Well, and if they are genuine, you will have a rich reward. O, much money; gold perhaps, who knows? and half is mine for not cutting that lying coward throat of yours, or hanging you like a dog, Lallajee."
"Noble prince, I have not forgotten the agreement, nor my lord's hospitality," returned the Lalla, joining his hands.
"Ah, that is well," returned Pahar Singh grimly. "One should not forget obligations, and they are only five days old. By your child's head, Maun Singh, he had a narrow escape, only for the boy and thee. Ah, it was rare fun. A coward—a peculiar coward! He did not think he should live, and he told us of the papers; only for that, they would have gone into the river with his carcase. Ah, yes; it was well done. What if they are false, O Lalla, and we have been brought so far in vain! O man, think of that."
"Yes, think of that, Lallajee," returned Maun Singh, turning himself lazily round to speak. "There are few like thee who are made guests of, and fed instead of becoming food. Ha, ha, ha! art thou not afraid?"
"My lords, I can say no more. I have told you all I can, and the rest is in their hands who come," said the Lalla, humbly putting up his hands to his nose. In his heart, however, the man was chuckling, secretly. He thought those who were to come would be attended by a retinue, and he purposed to watch his opportunity and denounce the robber, who would be seized on the bare mention of his name; and when he, Toolsee Das, should not only get the price of the papers, but, he felt sure, be rewarded for having enticed so wary a robber into a trap. The Lalla, therefore, endured the raillery and coarse abuse expended upon him with a peculiarly grim satisfaction.
"Yes, a cowardly knave, by your eyes, Maun Singh," continued Pahar Singh, while both were laughing heartily. "Ah, how he begged for life! And we have fed him well since too, though I am not sure that I did right in bringing him here, after all. I think I ought to have sent thee after thine ancestors, Lalla!"
"I doubt not, valiant sir, that your worship hath slain many of the King's enemies," said the Lalla, trembling in spite of himself, but inwardly determining to show no mercy, "and you are pleased to be merry."
"Dog, if thou hast deceived me, and brought me fifty coss fornothing, to save thy miserable life," said Pahar Singh, fiercely, "thou shalt not escape me twice. Hark! what is that at the door?" for it was now shaken violently; "they are come, Maun Singh. Remember, Lalla, I am no Pahar Singh now, or thou diest on the spot. See what I have for thee here," and he showed the shining naked blade of a sword concealed under the ashes. "Enough, don't be frightened, only be discreet. Go, Maun Singh, brother, open the wicket quickly," for those without again shook it impatiently. "Two are to come, only the two; there might be treachery with more. But ho, ho, ho! Pahar Singh is a match for ten, is he not? Now, see thou speakest the truth, O Lalla," he continued; "and my vows for the temple, and the well, they are not to be forgotten—nor—the feeding—five thousand Brahmuns. Forget not this on thy life. I am thy Gooroo, teaching thee 'the mysteries.'"
These words came from him, jerked out, as it were, by morsels, during the brief interval that elapsed before those he expected arrived; and which he employed in rubbing additional handfuls of ashes from the edges of the fire upon his face, body, and limbs, so as to render his disguise more complete, and in heaping up ashes on his sword, the hilt of which lay towards him, ready for action. As he finished, he took a string of wooden beads from his hair, and settled himself on his heels, in an attitude of austere devotion; for, after a brief parley at the gate, steps were heard advancing, and the Lalla, though his heart sank within him at seeing only two persons accompanying Maun Singh, rose as they ascended the steps of the basement, and were clearly visible by the light of the fire, which Pahar Singh had caused to burn brightly.
Fazil Khan's heart beat fast as he saw that one of the persons who ascended first was the King's secretary, his most trustworthy and confidential servant. His handsome, grave, Persian face, and long grey beard, with the lameness he was known by, which resulted from a wound, were unmistakable. The other, who had his face partly concealed, and who might be taken for an ordinary attendant to the Secretary, seemed nowise remarkable; but, as the pair sat down before him, and this person removed one fold of the scarf about his face—though he kept his mouth and nose still covered, as if to exclude the night air—the large sad eyes of the young King were plainly visible.
Fazil beheld him with an intensity of wondering interest, which it is impossible to describe, and fairly panted with excitement. "If he had known whom he was to meet here," he thought, "he would not have exposed himself to this risk: Alla and the Prophet have sent us." And as this escaped him, partly interjectionally and partly in devout prayer, the young Khan seemed to swell with the consciousness that his King might owe his safety, nay, even life, to them.
The Secretary was a veteran soldier, but he was unarmed, except a small knife-dagger in his girdle. Fazil, therefore, loosened his sword in its sheath. "Be ready," he whispered to his companion, who pressed his hand silently, in acknowledgment of the caution. Bulwunt had evidently not recognized the King; indeed, it was well perhaps that he could not see the face, or have his suspicions awakened: he might not have preserved the same composure as his young master.
The silence was becoming oppressive, though only of a few moments' duration, when Fazil observed the Jogi twitch the sleeve of the Lalla's garment as a sign to begin. Though it had cost him a pang to think he had no present hope of securing the robber, Toolsee Das, in truth, was pretty much at his ease. The position and rank of the King's secretary were unequivocal; who the other person might be, he could not conjecture—perhaps an assistant, perhaps a son—he might be either. There was something, certainly, in the look of those great black eyes, which was uncommon; but they gave no response to the Lalla's rapid but curious investigation of them: they could not be fathomed at a glance.
There was nothing in the demeanour of either of the persons before him to excite personal apprehension; and the Lalla was quite sure that Pahar Singh would not give him up, or the papers either, without an equivalent in money; and as he could not have Pahar Singh taken, it was assuring to think that he need not be apprehended himself, for it was quite certain that the robber would get more for the secret here than if he and the papers had been conveyed to the Imperial camp. There, a short questioning, and the executioner would be sure; and the Lalla shuddered for an instant at the thought of what would have followed. Here, as one who could give information of the enemy, and who could disclose state counsels, to what might he not aspire? If the people and their language were barbarous in northern estimation, yet he had seen enough of the city to be satisfied of its beauty; and were not many of the northern people already settling among the Dekhanies?
Such thoughts were flashing rapidly through the Lalla's mind—far more rapidly than we can write them—when he felt the sudden twitch we have already mentioned: he joined his hands together, and began, in a mincing accent, some of those courtly Persian phrases of complimentary welcome, common to the Mahomedans of the north, and which we need not repeat. The Secretary, however, was not in a mood to endure them.
"Peace, Lallajee!" he said; "we are rougher people here than those from whom you have brought these idle compliments, and you can keep them till you get back. Now to business—do not detain us."
"Ah, yes. My lord desired to see some letters of which I spoke to him," he replied; "some that I mentioned yesterday."
"It is therefore that I have come, and it will be well if they can be produced. You have higgled for them overmuch, good fellow," replied the Secretary, curtly.
"Nay, if my lord regrets," said the Lalla, "there is no need to press the matter further. Baba!" he continued to the pretended Jogi, "thou canst burn them in the fire there, only perhaps the King——"
"Not so fast, good sir," said the Meerza, speaking more blandly. "I remember all that has passed between us and that valiant gentleman yonder," and he pointed to Maun Singh, "and I am willing to perform my part of the bargain. And is this the Gooroo of whom ye spoke?"
"Sir, it is," replied the Lalla. "A holy man—one unused to the ways of the world, and who travels from shrine to shrine in the performance of sacred vows. Such were the Rishis; such are those from whom holy actions emanate; and such are the virtuous Jogis of the present day, of whom my Gooroo is a noble example. He, desiring the welfare of the Shah—may his splendour increase, and live for ever!—sent me to inform you, O fountain of eloquence and discretion! that they were in existence——" Here the Jogi gave another twitch of interruption, and a look, with a low growl, which the Lalla well understood, and continued—
"You see, noble sirs, he hath already suffered the interruption of his devotional abstraction, and is uneasy; for he never speaks unless to bless his disciples, or removes his eyes from the end of his nose: in continuing which, and repeating to himself holy texts and spells of wonderful power, he is pre-eminent in absorption of his faculties. So my lord will excuse him, and will remember the condition attached to the perusal of the papers."
"The gold, the gold—the money first!" growled the Jogi. "My son, my vow, my vow!"
"Noble sirs," continued the Lalla in a deprecatory whine to both, which appeared perfectly natural, as he looked from one to the other, with his hands joined, "you must pardon him; he is not a man of courts or of the world, but of temples, and holy shrines, and ascetic exercises; and some time ago he made a vow to build a temple on a spot where he had an ecstatic vision of heaven, and to dig a well, and feed five thousand Brahmuns, and to pass the remainder of his days in assisting poor travellers and in holy contemplation. A holy man,therefore, noble gentlemen, and he is anxious about the gold, not as filthy lucre, but for the sake of the temple and the well."
"Peace!" interrupted the Meerza. "What, in the name of the Shytan, are the well and the temple to us? Let us get up and depart, Sahib," he said to his companion, "they have no papers; this is but a scheme to raise money. I like them not, my lord," he added in a whisper, "and bitterly do I regret having brought you here unarmed and unattended. May God and the Prophet take us safe hence!"
The Lalla was not watching their faces in vain; he felt that he had gone far enough; and a fresh scowl from Pahar Singh, which was not to be mistaken: and his action, as he turned up a corner of the deerskin on which he sat, exhibiting a small red satin bag which might contain papers, assured the Lalla that he need not delay longer.
"Nay, my lords, be not impatient," he said blandly. "When was—he, he!—business of importance ever well done in a hurry? Behold!" added the Lalla, taking up the bag, "here are the papers which the holy father has kept safely for me beneath his deer's hide. Have I your permission to open them, Baba?"
"Open, and be quick," was the short answer of the Jogi.
"Simply then, noble sirs," continued the obsequious Lalla, taking some Persian letters out of the bag, "here they are; and if either of ye know the handwriting, the signature, or the seals of Khan Mahomed, Wuzeer of Beejapoor, he will, Inshalla! be able to recognize them. I do not know them myself, but that makes no difference; they are no forgeries. If you, my lord," he added to the Meerza, "know them, you will find that your poor servant has spoken the truth. Look at them carefully."
The Meerza received the packet with trembling hands, but he said firmly, "Thou knowest the penalty thou hast incurred if these be forged; and if a slave like thee shouldst have dared to question falsely the honour of one so exalted as the Wuzeer, beware!"
"I know—I know, O most exalted and worthy sir!" replied the Lalla, humbly but confidently shutting his eyes, folding his hands upon his breast, and bowing his head over them; "your worship told me before it would be death. But it will not be so. O no! In your poor slave's destiny is written favour and advancement at your hands, and his planets are in a fortunate conjunction."
"I would hang him to the highest tree in Beejapoor, to the topmost branch of the Goruk Imlee, to feed the crows and kites for a week. What a rascal he is, Meah!" whispered Bulwunt.
"Hush, and be ready! there is a life on every word," returned Fazil, hearing the King speak in Persian in an under-tone to the Meerza.
"There is no escape from death," he said in a sad tone, "if these papers be not false."
"True!" exclaimed the Jogi, abruptly, but whether it had reference to the Lalla's speech or the King's, could not be certain. The King looked at him suspiciously, but the man appeared once more to have relapsed into abstraction.
"O, that I know, worthy sir," returned the Lalla carelessly, "we must all die in the end: we are all mortal: what saith Saadi?" and he quoted a verse from the Bôstan. "I have no fear of them, noble gentlemen! May it please you to look at them first, and then determine about killing me afterwards. He, he, he!"
"He does not tremble under those eyes," whispered Fazil to his companion. "This must be true. God help them all!"
"If there be faith in handwriting and seals," resumed the Lalla after a pause, "I fear not. If these documents had not been so precious, why should the asylum of the world, my master, have kept them so carefully in his own writing-case? The time is not come, O Meerza! but you will yet hear of a reward having been set upon your poor slave's head. Be it so; I claim the protection of Ali Adil Shah for the service I now do him, Bismilla! Open the packet there, and say whether I have death and infamy before me, or life and honour in the King's service, for there is more at stake in this matter than my lord knows of. Bismilla! open it."
The Meerza held the packet irresolutely, as one who almost feared a knowledge of its contents, and looked for a moment to his companion——
"Bismilla!" said the King, eagerly speaking in Persian, "open it; this suspense is intolerable. Dost thou fear for Khan Mahomed? art thou his friend?"
"By your head and eyes, by the King's salt, no," answered the other. "For good or for evil, Bismilla! I open it,"—and he tore the cover hastily.
The heart of Fazil Khan beat so hard in his bosom that its throbbings seemed painfully audible to himself, and he almost fancied they must be heard by all inside; but he was still, as was also his companion.
As the wax-cloth covers were withdrawn, there appeared several letters in the bundle,—large, and the paper covered with gilding, such as are sent to persons of the most exalted rank only. Eagerly, most eagerly, did the practised eye of the Secretary run over each superscription, and each was narrowly scrutinized. One by one he passed them to the King, and Fazil could see that, whatever they were, they caused the deepest expression of interest in both their countenances. Suddenly the Meerza came to one which, having examined even more narrowly than the others, he passed on, with a deep sigh, to the King.
It was taken eagerly, and at once opened and read, while the Lalla turned from one to the other with an intense expression of curiosity, fear, and hope blended together, marked on his features.
"Does that Jogi understand Persian, thinkest thou?" asked the King of the Lalla.
"Not a word, I will answer for it with my head," returned the man confidently. "How should he?"
"And thyself?"
"Surely, excellent sir; I have long served in the royal Dufter, else how should I have known what to take and what to leave?" He spoke now in Persian, and the conversation continued in that language.
"If there were more, why didst thou not take all, Lalla?" asked the Meerza.
"All, Meerza Sahib? that the theft might be discovered before I had time to get away? Ah, no, good sir! A Mutsuddee may be a rogue, but he should have discretion," and he quoted the Persian proverb to that effect; "and to all appearance the royal desk still holds the same packet which I made up with other papers, and sealed with the private signet as it was before. No; the theft is not suspected yet, unless that packet have been opened by the Emperor when I was missed——"
"And thou knowest the contents of this letter, Lalla?" inquired the King.
"I could say them to you, for I have them by heart, noble sir; perhaps they are somewhat remarkable, for when I read them, I thought Ali Adil Shah would like to hear them, so I committed them to memory. I will even repeat the letter to you if this worthy Meerza have no objection. I presume," he continued to the Secretary, "that your friend is in the King's confidence as much as yourself."
"Surely," was the reply. "I may say that he is more in it than I am myself, else I had not brought him."
"Enough," said the Lalla; "I am satisfied. Now, open the letter and compare it with what I repeat. There is no Alkab."
"True," said the King, "he has drawn a Mudd at the top."
"Proceed after the Mudd, then," continued the Lalla, "the letter runs thus:—
"It has been the will of the all-powerful that the forces of my lord, the ruler of both worlds, should retire. Let not that trouble his heart. By the favour of the most merciful, matters will yet take a prosperous course for my lord's true interests. All here, with this poor suppliant for his bounty, are day and night labouring in his behalf: and already many, as by the endorsed list, with their adherents, have been gainedto the true cause. Others demur, but will repent; again, others are obstinate, and cannot be moved, but they are not many. A few months more, and when the season opens, the harvest will be ripe for the gathering. Then, there will be no turning back for my lord from this city; for its people, with this poor servant, rejoicing to escape tyranny, will at once turn to the asylum of the two worlds, and give my lord's fortunate footsteps a happy welcome. We are tired of the false religion; and as to the King, he is but yet a boy, and has neither power, knowledge, nor any friends: and are men of venerable age to submit tamely to his idle fancies? Surely not. He can be ultimately provided for. For the rest, my lord's promises are undeserved by the least of his servants, who is not fit to kiss his feet; but my lord can at least rely that his administration will be carried on entirely in his interest, and to his honour and glory. What need to write more? it would be beyond the bounds of respect. May the splendour of dominion and honour increase! The signature of Khan Mahomed, Wuzeer of Beejapoor."
"It has been the will of the all-powerful that the forces of my lord, the ruler of both worlds, should retire. Let not that trouble his heart. By the favour of the most merciful, matters will yet take a prosperous course for my lord's true interests. All here, with this poor suppliant for his bounty, are day and night labouring in his behalf: and already many, as by the endorsed list, with their adherents, have been gainedto the true cause. Others demur, but will repent; again, others are obstinate, and cannot be moved, but they are not many. A few months more, and when the season opens, the harvest will be ripe for the gathering. Then, there will be no turning back for my lord from this city; for its people, with this poor servant, rejoicing to escape tyranny, will at once turn to the asylum of the two worlds, and give my lord's fortunate footsteps a happy welcome. We are tired of the false religion; and as to the King, he is but yet a boy, and has neither power, knowledge, nor any friends: and are men of venerable age to submit tamely to his idle fancies? Surely not. He can be ultimately provided for. For the rest, my lord's promises are undeserved by the least of his servants, who is not fit to kiss his feet; but my lord can at least rely that his administration will be carried on entirely in his interest, and to his honour and glory. What need to write more? it would be beyond the bounds of respect. May the splendour of dominion and honour increase! The signature of Khan Mahomed, Wuzeer of Beejapoor."
"Ay, what need of more?" sighed the young King. "Enough here—enough to prove the man's treachery, the least deserved that ever the false world saw. Yet, Meerza, there are still many true to the King: there are some suspected ones in the list that we know of," he continued, his eye running rapidly over it, "but Afzool Khan, and many of note, are not here, and yet rumour has assailed them also."
"Yes, they are intimates," said the Secretary, "but no more, I think."
"Then I have won my reward and my life!" exclaimed the Lalla anxiously, in his own tongue.
"Your life, surely," replied the Meerza; "but for the reward, we need to make some further scrutiny into those papers ere that can be disbursed: they must be compared with others in the King's possession. Therefore I will take them with me to-night, and if you will come to me—you know my house—early to-morrow, all will be arranged to your satisfaction."
"But, my lord—noble sirs," cried the Lalla, in evident dread, "that was no part of the bargain. Did we not settle——" He could not, however, finish the sentence on account of a rude and decisive interruption.
"I forbid it. I forbid one paper or one of you passing hence this night till the money is paid," said the Jogi, severely.
"And who art thou?" demanded the Meerza, haughtily. "Peace! withdraw; this is no place for thee, or the like of thee."
"Who am I?" retorted the ruffian. "Who am I? One who has the right, as he has the power, to demand what he seeks." And as he spoke he snatched from beneath the heap of ashes before himthe heavy sword he had kept concealed there, which flashed brightly in the firelight, and started to his feet, as did also his follower. "Stir not!" he exclaimed to the King and Secretary, who had been too much startled by the sudden action to rise with the Jogi; "stir not, or ye die on the spot!" Drawing himself up to his majestic height, Pahar Singh laughed scornfully. "Ha, ha, ha! a boy and a penman against me! Ha, ha, ha! put up thy weapon, Maun Singh, there is no need of it."
"Who art thou?" demanded the King, rising notwithstanding the threat, and returning the glance as steadily as it was given.
"It concerns thee not," answered Pahar Singh. "Pay me the money promised on those papers—ten thousand good rupees—on this spot, or you pass not hence alive. Brother," he added to Maun Singh, "be ready. They have brought the money, and we must get it."
It was a moment of intense anxiety to Fazil Khan and his companion. A word—a sound from them, and the life of the young King was gone. Fazil could see that, except a small dagger in each of their girdles, the King and his Secretary were unarmed. To rush to them soon enough to be of use, was a thing impossible; they would be dead ere he could strike a blow. There was no absolute peril, however, as yet, and too much at stake to risk anything. Pahar Singh appeared to have no evil intention; but, if provoked, it was plain he might do violence, and would not hesitate to use his weapon if rescue were attempted.
The King saw his danger. There was little avail in temporizing, and his thought and action were alike prompt. His own life and his friend's were both at stake; and what did the money signify? Not a feather in the balance. Could his attendants, whom he had left at a distance, even hear of his danger, he must perish ere they could approach him.
"Hold!" he cried, "whoever thou art, Jogi. If the Lalla says thou art to have the money, it will be given. Our bargain was with him."
"And his with me," returned the man. "Give it me;" and as he spoke he advanced close to the King.
"Pay it to him—let him have it," cried the Lalla to the King, "and keep back your men if you have any with you, else there will be bloodshed. He is desperate, noble sirs; do not provoke him."
"I would do him no harm," said Pahar Singh to the Secretary, "but it is as well to be certain in case of treachery;" and he drew a small dagger from his girdle with his left hand, and held it in an attitude to strike into the King. "Go, if the money is here; bring it quickly; but beware of any attempt to rescue him, or you will cause his death. You could not reach me ere I had struck him down.Go then, Meerza Sahib, my friend Maun Singh will bring the bags: he is strong enough."
"Go, friend," said the King, "do as he says. If the people ask questions, say I am safe, and will be with them presently."
"And leave thee with him!" said the Meerza, anxiously. "I will not stir; there is peril, and my place is beside thee."
"There is no peril if ye are true," said Pahar Singh; "much, if ye are false. Go!"
"Go, friend, I will trust him; his object is money, not my poor life. Go! I am not afraid of him, nor he of me," said the King.
"How noble he is!" whispered Fazil to his companion.
Both would have given all they possessed to have been by the King's side to have struck down the ruffian.
"Ay, Meah, I would we were by his side," returned Bulwunt. "Who can he be? Whoever he may be, he is indeed fearless; but he will not be harmed if they bring the money. Hush! they may speak again."
The Meerza turned silently to go, and descended the step, accompanied by Maun Singh.
"Come," said the latter to the Lalla; "help to carry the bags, good man; it will save me another journey. Come!"
The Lalla followed, and the two remained standing face to face, the young King and the outlaw looking steadily at each other.
"Afraid of thee?" said Pahar Singh in a low voice, and dropping the arm which had held the dagger uplifted. "Afraid of thee? No, proud boy: he who defied thy father's power at its greatest, hath little to fear from thine. Ali Adil Shah, thinkest thou that this poor disguise could conceal thee? Yet thou art bold and true, and I rejoice that I have had proof of it, for men told me thou wert a coward—a boy of the zenana—only fit to herd with women. Now thou hast met the 'Lion of the Hill' bravely," he continued, using the play on his own name, "and he will turn from thee peacefully. Thy life hath been in my hand—nay, is now in it were I to strike—but I give it to thee freely; promise me mine in return, and swear by thy father's spirit that, once gone from this, thou wilt not turn back, nor suffer any one of thy retinue to do so."
The King started as the man covertly declared his name, and the covering fell from his face.
"Thou Pahar Singh, the Lion of Allund?" he said.
"Even so, monarch," returned the chief. "Ha! ha! The man whom thy slaves—cowards—tell thee they pursue. Aha! they dare not. Pahar Singh is monarch of his own wilds; no royal troops dare to come near them. But keep thine own counsel, and now listen. Thou mayst need me yet, and I may do thee good service. Two thousand good hearts and stout arms, such as thy money cannot hire,serve Pahar Singh. Swear to keep faith with me, and I will be true. Hadst thou been a coward, and quailed at the sight of this weapon, I should have been tempted to slay thee, Adil Khan, like a dog, for never yet did coward sit on the throne of Beejapoor. For what has happened, thou hast my respect. Enough! remember Pahar Singh, and in two days or less I will send thee more tidings, or come myself. Thou mayst kill the messenger, but he will not tell of my hiding-place; and if harm come to him, I swear to thee, by the Lady of Tooljapoor, my Holy Mother, that I will take a life for every hair of his head, and burn a hundred villages. Now, silence! I have spoken. Am I free to go, scathless as thou art? Thy hand upon it, monarch!"
It was frankly given, and the rebel and outlaw, instead of taking it rudely, and as if prompted suddenly by a kindly feeling of reverence for his King, bent his head gently, touched it with his forehead, and kissed it.
"Thy hand has touched my lips—put it upon my head, and swear by thy father not to harm me," he said, quickly.
"I swear by my father not to harm thee, Pahar Singh: only be thou henceforth faithful to thy King's salt," he replied, as he placed both his hands upon the outlaw's head.
"Enough," returned Pahar Singh, removing them, pressing them again to his forehead, and kissing them reverently; "I will be true to thy salt, O King; but speak to no one of me, and wait patiently till I come—I may have news for thee. A fakeer's rags and a beggar's cry admit me everywhere—'Ulla dilâyâ to léonga'[6]—by night or by day, wherever thou art, in durbar or zenana, whenever you hear it—admit me, or order me to be confined, and send for me—I shall bawl loudly enough. If I come not in two days, do not doubt me; but stir not in this matter till I arrive—it may be very soon, I cannot say. Now cover thy face; they come," and he resumed his former threatening attitude.
The Meerza, with the two others, emerged from behind the temple almost as he spoke, and in a few moments had ascended the steps of the apartment. Maun Singh drew a heavy bag from beneath the scarf which was round his shoulders; but the eye of the robber at once detected its small size.
"Those are not rupees, Meerza; beware of treachery with me. I have not harmed him," he exclaimed.
"No, it is gold, holy Baba. Behold!" and he opened the bag, and poured the contents carefully into a little heap on the floor near the fire. "There is more thanhebargained for," he continued, pointing to the Lalla, "but it does not matter; you are welcome to it, for the temple and the well."
"Enough," returned Pahar Singh; "I am satisfied. Go, take your papers, and begone; molest me no more." And, sitting down on his deer's hide, he heaped up the gold coins carefully with his left hand, while his right still held the sword.
"And my reward, O Meerza Sahib!" cried the Lalla eagerly, as he and the King turned to depart; "thou wilt not abandon me to him."
"It is there with the rest," answered the Secretary; "Lallajee, help yourself, we must begone."
"Nay, but I want it not; only take me away—take me away. I fear him," cried the man, in a piteous voice, and trembling violently.
"Peace, fool," exclaimed Pahar Singh, rising and holding him back powerfully. "Peace, I will settle with thee!"