THE RAJAH SURPRISED
It was on that very night, the night of the 23rd of May, that Hoosanee returned to Gumilcund, after his unsuccessful effort to save Grace Elton and her cousin. He reported himself to his master at once, and gave an account of what he had done. It was his opinion that the rising at Nowgong would be speedy and cruel. Many of the Sahibs, he said, were disliked by the people and soldiers, and would not be spared. He did not venture to repeat his conversation with the chuprassie; but he said that he believed there was one servant in the Captain Sahib's service who might be trusted. 'The lotus-eyed,' he averred, must be saved at all hazards, and he offered, should his master desire it, to go to the station again, and to linger about in disguise, watching over her, until the danger was over, or the rising had come. In case of a rising, he would provide for some temporary refuge in the neighbourhood, whence, if they could not escape in any other way, his master would fetch them at the point of the sword.
Tom agreed to the proposal, suggesting only that he should go in place of Hoosanee; or, if that were impossible, that they should go together. But both his servant and Chunder Singh, who was present, pointed out to him so clearly that his presence, instead of helping, might spoil everything, that he was obliged to give way. Hoosanee should have the honour and joy of watching over the sweetest woman on all the earth; Chunder Singh should hold himself in readiness to obey the first summons to arms, and Tom had spies posted in the different villages on the route between Nowgong and Gumilcund, so that Hoosanee's messages might be passed on from one to another, and that help could reach him speedily.
He was himself meditating a dangerous enterprise, nothing less than marching into Jhansi alone, presenting himself before the Ranee, and persuading her, under promise of his personal support, and his influence with the Government in case of her failure—for he had now certain knowledge that she intended soon to raise the standard of revolt—to allow him to carry off to Gumilcund the English women and children in the station.
But many things had to be done before he could start. June was nearly in when, riding Snow-queen, and dressed as an Indian of rank, he left Gumilcund. In despite of all Chunder Singh urged to the contrary, he was unattended, it being his belief that the Ranee would be more likely to listen to him if he entered her palace alone.
The hot season being well in, he travelled principally at night, resting by day in a grove or peasant's hut. He was treated with consideration everywhere. Now and then a greybeard would reprove him for travelling so heedlessly in these unsettled times, and once or twice he was asked his business. To this he would answer that he was a kinsman of the Ranee of Jhansi, and that she had sent for him; but that what her will was he knew not. Everything, in fact, went well, so that, but for the adventure I am about to relate, he would have been in Jhansi before the rising; and it is just possible that, by his influence, the memory of a proud and not ungenerous woman would have been saved from a foul blot, and many innocent people delivered from destruction.
He came to within a few miles of the borders of Jhansi. For the last two days he had been pressing his pace, for sinister rumours were abroad, and he feared to be too late. But there had been terrible rain, and the ways were miry, and Snow-queen was hanging her head dejectedly. For her sake rather than his own he determined to rest for a few hours. There was a village close by. He rode in slowly, and asked for the house of the headman, where, after a little parley, he was allowed to rest, while he watched his horse being fed and watered.
He was on the little mud platform in front of the house. Snow-queen was tethered close by. It was mid-day and the place was silent as the grave, so that presently, in spite of strenuous efforts to hold his eyes open, he fell into a dog's sleep. How long it lasted he could not tell. He was aroused by the trampling of feet and clamour of many voices. He sprang up, and, almost at the same moment, the headman came to him, with a strange look in his eyes.
'You must go on,' he said, 'the Ranee is here.'
'Ranee—what ranee—of Jhansi?' he asked.
'I know not,' the man answered; 'but we want this place.'
'And you shall have it. I am ready to go on,' answered Tom. 'First let me pay you for your trouble.'
The man took the money hurriedly, and Tom turned aside to where he had left Snow-queen, and vaulted into the saddle. He had scarcely done so before the foremost of the troop of horsemen that were clattering through the village came up with him and seized his bridle-rein.
'What do you want with me?' said Tom, trying to free himself.
In a trice two or three more rode up, and he found himself surrounded.
'Now, then,' he cried out, angrily. 'What is the meaning of this?'
'Our lady, the Ranee, would have speech with you, sir stranger,' said the first of the troop.
'Where is she; and what does she mean by stopping a peaceful traveller?'
'You are alone. She has armed men at her back,' said the horseman cynically. 'But she means you no hurt. You had better come quietly.'
'Loose my bridle-rein, then,' cried the young rajah. 'And you,' to the two or three ragged-looking figures that were crowding about him, 'fall back!'
They obeyed and he went forward slowly, with all the dignity he could command. Had he seen any chance of escape, he would have given a touch to Snow-queen, and in a few moments she would have shown them a clean pair of heels. But he was not in open ground; he was in the long straggling street of the village, with horsemen in front of him and horsemen behind, and there was no possibility of getting away. Wit, he felt, must serve him for strength, and if, as these men had said, their leader was really a woman, he did not doubt that he would be able so far to humour her as to be allowed to proceed.
Presently he lifted up his eyes and saw her. She was in the midst of the cavalcade, borne in an open palanquin, and covered from head to foot in a saree of black gauze richly spangled with gold.
As he approached, the men-at-arms who accompanied her separating to right and left to let him pass, she ordered her bearers to stop. Tom drew up in front of her and made a low salute. He could not discern the features of the lady's face; but he saw enough to make him sure that she was not the Ranee of Jhansi. A few seconds passed. He would not speak until she addressed him; he sat with head bowed humbly, after the Oriental fashion, while the piercing eyes behind the black and gold saree looked him through and through.
Then came a curious and unexpected shock. She was speaking. He thought, at least, that she was speaking; but he could not be quite sure that his senses had not deceived him. For this high, clear voice, winged, to his fancy, with mockery, was not, certainly, the voice of one of the daughters of the land. Yet the language was the supple Urdu that the educated natives use.
'Who are you, sir stranger? And what brings you to our dominions?' she said.
He gave an involuntary start, then answered, bowing low, 'Were it not that the whole world is under the dominion of beauty, I might ask my gracious lady her right to stop the traveller on his journey. As it is, I bow to her will. I am a kinsman of the Ranee of Jhansi, and I go in hot haste to confer with her on the strange portents of the time.'
From behind the saree came a sound like the repressed gurgle of laughter; but it was stopped instantly, and the high, disdainful voice went on. 'I believe that you are lying, sir stranger; but the truth of your saying shall be proved. We, too, propose to visit our sister of Jhansi. Remain you with our escort, and we will take you in with us. If you are really what you profess to be, the delay will be of no account to you, and you may save your skin.'
'My skin is not of so much account to me that, for its sake, I should neglect my duty. The business on which I have come is urgent, and I cannot delay. Will your Highness permit me to take my leave?'
There was another suppressed gurgle. He could have sworn, moreover, that from under the black and gold gauze there came a little English 'No'; but in the next moment he thought that his fancy must have been playing tricks with him, for the veiled lady was speaking in stern, slow accents.
'I will not permit you to leave us. Fall back, and take your place amongst my men.'
'Your Highness——'
'Silence! I have listened to you long enough. Abdul, seize his bridle-rein. If he resists, dismount him, and bring him on foot.'
Seeing that there was, for the moment, no possibility of successful resistance, Tom fell back amongst the escort, who, so long as he walked on with them quietly, did not seem disposed to show him any violence.
The headman of the village came out, meanwhile, to meet them, bringing provisions, and laying himself and all he possessed at the feet of the Ranee. She accepted his homage, but did not deign to speak to him, and, after halting for a few moments, she ordered her bearers and escort to proceed.
Tom had been longing to leave the village, for he thought that, on the open ground, he might easily escape; but he found himself so closely watched, that no such effort was practicable. Reluctantly he made up his mind to wait until the night.
He had gone over this ground before, making himself well acquainted with the bearings of the country, and when, soon after leaving the village, the leaders of the cavalcade swung round to the left, he knew perfectly well that they were going away from Jhansi, and not towards it. This he said to Abdul, but he was vouchsafed no answer. Tired and irritated, wondering what was to be the end of this strange adventure, and blaming himself bitterly for having halted when he was almost within a stone's throw of his goal, he went on the way he was led.
It was afternoon when the veiled lady met him, and they tramped on until nightfall.
By this time, so far as Tom, who had begun to lose his bearings, could judge, they were many miles distant from Jhansi. They encamped in open ground, there being no village or grove of trees at hand. A tent was pitched for the lady, who had been travelling for some time with the curtains of her palanquin closed. Tom, who felt that she was dealing treacherously with him, and who was haunted, moreover, by a bewildering suspicion that she was something very different from what she gave herself out to be, made an effort, when the cavalcade halted, to spring forward from his place in the rear, that he might speak to her, or at least catch a glimpse of her figure; but the fierce and burly Abdul placed himself in front of him. The vigilance of this man had never for one moment faltered, and it was evident to Tom that he was keeping up the other men to their duty of watchfulness.
Thinking it well to appear submissive, he dismounted with the rest of the horsemen, tethered and fed Snow-queen, and joined one of the groups that were assembled round the little fires that had been lighted to cook the men's evening meal. A place was made for him, and he was given a supper of chupatties and dal, which, as he was simulating the manners of a person of high rank, he received in his own bowl, retiring a few yards distant from his attendants to eat it.
Then he returned to the spot where he had left Snow-queen, wrapped himself up in his chuddah, and, with his back propped against the tree to which she was tethered, fell into a deep sleep.
Tom was one of those favoured mortals who have the gift of sleep. No matter how anxious and harassed he might have been in the daytime, night always brought him peace and refreshment. Afterwards he thought of it as a strange thing. Here he was alone in the midst of strangers. What they wanted with him he did not know; but he knew full well that he had upon his person what, if they discovered it, would tempt their cupidity past any reasonable limit of endurance; he knew also that he had a great stake to fight for, and a hard problem to solve, and yet he slept—slept as peacefully as if he had been in his own little room in the cottage that looked down upon the silver Thames.
Two hours passed away. His attendants had looked at him several times, and, at last, being satisfied of his perfect unconsciousness, they had followed his example, and now no one but Abdul was awake.
Abdul had received his orders. He was to watch over the prisoner, but not to molest him in any way; he knew very well that, if he were detected in any attempt at outrage or robbery, he would pay the forfeit of his life for the crime; but the stillness of the moment and the perfect unconsciousness of the sleeping man were too much for his prudence. He would not hurt him. That would be to betray himself; but he would cautiously feel about him to see if he had valuables concealed in his sash or turban. If he had not, no harm was done. If he had, and if Abdul purloined them, then Abdul would be so much the richer, and the high-born youth, who would not venture, surrounded as he was by hostile strangers, to make any ado about his loss, would be the poorer. And that would be all.
Thinking thus he crept closer to Tom, and, having softly drawn his chuddah aside began to finger his fine satin tunic. Once or twice the sleeping youth stirred, and then the robber drew back, but supposing himself in a dream, he settled down again, and Abdul went on with his work. The heart of the robber was jubilant and his fingers were light, for he was sure now that there was gold in the youth's waistband, gold which would soon be transferred to his own. The gold was almost within his grasp, he heard its jingle, his long fingers swept it, as they moved to and fro. Why then did he stop suddenly and draw back? Had he seen the youth's breast and shoulders white in the moonlight, and did he recognise him as one of the hated race, whom, in a few short weeks, the children of the Prophet would scatter and slay? But this should have given him courage, for he knew very well that he had but to say that a Feringhee spy had entered the camp, and the youth whom he purposed to rob would have his lips sealed effectually. Surely it was something more that stayed Abdul's hand. And, in that moment's pause, his prey escaped him. Strong, and with all his wits about him, Tom awoke; seeing his chuddah and tunic open, and Abdul glaring at him, like a startled wild animal, he sprang to his feet and struck out with the dagger which he carried in his belt.
At the same moment the robber was smitten from behind. As, with a muttered cry, he fell to the ground, a voice broke upon the stillness of the camp: 'So the White Ranee punishes treachery. Let all take notice and beware!'