Caste

by William Alexander Fraser

CHAPTER XX

"Is the one alone?" Amir Khan asked when a servant had presented
Barlow's yellow slip of paper.

"But for the orderly that is with him."

"Tell him to enter, and go where your ears will remain safe upon your head."

The bearer withdrew and Captain Barlow entered, preceded by the orderly, who, with a deep salaam announced:

"Sultan Amir Khan, it is Ayub Alli who would have audience." Then he stepped to one side, and stood erect against the wall.

"Salaam, Chief," Barlow said with a sweep of a hand to his forehead, and Amir Khan from his seat in a black ebony chair inlaid with pearl-shell and garnets, returned the salutation, asking: "And what favour would Ayub Alli ask?"

"A petition such as your servant would make is but for the ears of Amir
Khan."

The black eyes of the Pindari, deep set under the shaggy eyebrows, hung upon the speaker's face with the fierce watchful stab of a falcon's.

Barlow saw the distrust, the suspicion. He unslung from his waist his heavy pistol, took the tulwar from the wide brass-studded belt about his waist, and tendered them to the orderly saying: "It is a message of peace but also it is alone for the ears of Amir Khan."

The Pindari spoke to the orderly, "Go thou and wait below."

When he had disappeared the Pindari rose from the ebon-wood chair, stretched his tall giant form, and laughed. "Thou art a seemly man, Ayub Alli, but thinkst thou that Amir Khan would have fear that thou sendst thy playthings by the orderly?"

"No, Chief, it was but proper. And you will know that the message is such that none other may hear it."

"Sit on yonder divan, Afghan, and tell this large thing that is in thy mind."

As Barlow took a seat upon the divan covered by a red-and-green Bokharan rug, lifting his eyes suddenly, he was conscious of a mocking smile on the Pindari's lips; and the fierce black eyes were watching his every move as he slipped a well-strapped sandal from a foot. Rising, he stepped to the table at one end of which the Pindari sat, and placing the sandal upon it, said: "If the Chief will slit the double sole with his knife he will find within that which I have brought."

"The matter of which you speak, Afghan, is service, and Amir Khan is not one to perform a service of the hands for any one."

"But if I asked for the Chief's knife, not having one—"

"Inshalla! but thou art right; if thou hadst asked for the knife thou mightst have received it, and not in the sandal," he laughed. The laugh welled up from his throat through the heavy black beard like the bubble of a bison bull.

The Pindari reached for the sandal, and as he slit at the leather thread, he commented: "Thou hast the subtlety of a true Patan; within, I take it, is something of value, and if it were in a pocket of thy jacket, or a fold at thy waist, those who might seek it with one slit of their discoverer, which is a piece of broken glass carrying an edge such as no blade would have, would take it up. But a man's sandals well strapped on are removed but after he is dead."

"Bismillah!" The Pindari had the paper spread flat upon the black table and saw the seal of the British Raj. He seemed to ponder over the document as if the writing were not within his interpretation. Then he said: "We men of the sword have not given much thought to the pen, employing scribblers for that purpose, but to-morrow a mullah will make this all plain."

Barlow interrupted the Chief. "Shall I read the written word?"

"What would it avail? Hereon is the seal of the Englay Raj, but as you read the thumb of the Raj would not be upon your lip in the way of a seal. The mullah will interpret this to me. Is it of an alliance?" he asked suddenly.

"It is, Chief."

The Pindari laughed: "Holker would give me a camel-load of gold rupees for this and thy head: Sindhia might add a province for the same."

"True, Chief. And has Amir Khan heard a whisper of reward and a dress of honour from Sindhia's Dewan for his head?"

"Afghan, there is always a reward for the head of Amir Khan; but a gift
is of little value to a man who has lost his life in the trying.
Without are guards ready to run a sword through even a shadow, and here
I could kill three."

He raised his black eyes and scanned the form of Ayub Alli. There was a quizzical smile on his lips as he said:

"Go back and sit thee upon the divan."

When Barlow had taken his place, the Chief laughed aloud, saying, "Well done, Captain Sahib; thou art perfect as a Patan; even to the manner of sitting down one would have thought that, except for a saddle, thou hadst always sat upon thy heels."

Barlow smiled good humouredly, saying, "It is even so; I am Captain Barlow. And this,"—he tapped the loose baggy trousers of the Afghan hillman, and the sheepskin coat with the wool inside—"was not in the way of deceit but for protection on the road."

"It is well thought of," the Pindari declared, "for a Sahib travelling alone through Rajasthan would be robbed by a Mahratta or killed by a Rajput. But as to the deceiving of Amir Khan, dost thou suppose that he gives to a Patan the paper of admittance, or of passing, such as he gave to thee. Even at the audience I was pleased with thy manner of disguise."

Barlow was startled. "Did you know then that I was a Sahib—how did you know?"

"Because thou wert placed in my hand in the way of protection."

Then Barlow surmised that of all outside his own caste there could be but one, and he knew that she was in the camp, for he had seen her. "It was a woman."

"A rare woman; even I, Chief of the Pindaris—and we are not bred to softness—say that she is a pearl."

"They call her the Gulab," Barlow ventured.

"She is well named the Gulab; the perfume of her is in my nostrils though it mixes ill with the camel smell. Without offence to Allah I can retain her for it is in the Koran that a man may have four wives and I have but two."

"But the Gulab is of a different faith," Barlow objected and a chill hung over his heart.

The Pindari laughed. "The Sahibs have agents for the changing of faith, those who wear the black coat of honour; and a mullah will soon make a good Musselmani of the beautiful little infidel. Of course, Sahib, there is the other way of having a man's desire which is the way of all Pindaris; they consider women as fair loot when the sword is the passport through a land. But as to the Gulab, the flower is most too fair for a crushing. In such a matter as I have spoken of the fragrance is gone, and a man, when he crushes the weak, has conflict with himself."

"It's a topping old barbarian, this leader of cut-throats," Barlow admitted to himself; but in his mind was a horror of the fate meant for the girl. And somehow it was a sacrifice for him, he knew, an enlargement of the love that had shown in the soft brown eyes. As he listened schemes of stealing the Gulab away, of saving her were hurtling through his brain.

"And mark thee, Sahib, Amir Khan has found favour with the little flower, for when I thought of an audience with her in her own tent—for to be a leader of men, in possession of two wives, and holding strong by the faith of Mahomet, it is as well to be circumspect—the Gulab warned me that a knife might be presented as I slept. A jealous lover, perhaps, I think—it would not have been Ayub Alli by any chance?"

What Barlow was thinking, was, "A most subtle animal, this." And he now understood why the Pindari, as if he had forgotten the message, was talking of the Gulab; as an Oriental he was coming to the point in circles.

"It was not, Chief," Barlow answered. "A British officer on matters of state, would break his izzat (honour) if he trifled with women."

"Put thy hand upon thy beard, Afghan—though thou hast not one—and swear by it that it was not thee the woman meant when she spoke of a knife, for I like thee."

Barlow put his hand to his chin. "I swear that there was nothing of evil intent against Amir Khan in my heart," he said; "and that is the same as our oath, for it is but one God that we both worship."

The Chief again let float from his big throat his low, deep, musical laugh.

"An oath is an oath, nothing more. To trust to it and go to sleep in its guardianship, one may never wake up. Even the gods cannot bind a heart that is black with words. It was one of my own name who swore on the shrine of Eklinga at Udaipur friendship for a Prince of Marwar, and changed turbans with him, which is more binding than eating opium together, then slew him like a dog. Of my faith, an oath, 'by the Beard of the Prophet,' is more binding, I think. Too many gods, such as the men of Hind have, produce a wavering. But thou hast sworn to the truth as I am a witness. The delay of an audience was that thou mightst be well watched before much had been said, for a child at play hides nothing, and if thou hadst gone but once to the tent of the Gulab, Amir Khan would have known.

"But as to this,"—his hand tapped the document—"it has been said that the British Raj doles out the lives of its servants as one doles grain in a time of famine. If an envoy, such as a Raja sends in a way of pride, came with this, and were made a matter of sacrifice, perhaps twenty lives would have paid of the trying, but as it is, but one is the account."

Barlow shot a quick searching look into the Pindari's eyes; was it a covert threat? But he answered: "It is even so, it was spoken of as a matter for two, but—"

The Chief laughed: "I know, Sahib; thou art pleasing to me. Of the Sahibs I have little knowledge, but I have heard it said they were a race of white Rajputs, save that they did not kill a brother or a father for the love of killing. What service want they of Amir Khan?"

"There are rumours that the Mahrattas, forgetting the lessons they have received—both Holkar and Sindhia having been thoroughly beaten by the British—are secretly preparing war."

"A johur, a last death-rush, is it not?"

"They will be smashed forever, and their lands taken."

"But the King of Oudh has been promised a return to glory to join in this revolt. The fighting Rajputs—what of them? Backed by the English they should hold these black accursed Mahrattas in check."

Barlow rose and, the wary eyes of the Chief on every move, stepped over to the table and pointed to a signature upon the document.

"That," he said, "is the signature of the Rana of Mewar, meaning that he also passes the salt of friendship to Amir Khan."

He turned the document over, and there written upon it was the figure "74 1/2."

"Bismillah!" the Chief cried for he had not noticed this before; "it is the tilac, the Rana's sealing of the document; it is the mystic number that means that the contents are sacred, that the curse of the Sack of Fort Chitor be upon him who violates the seal, it is the oath of all Rajputs—tilac, that which is forbidden. And the Sahibs have heard a rumour that Amir Khan has a hundred thousand horsemen to cut in with. Even Sindhia is afraid of me and desires my head. The Sahibs have heard and desire my friendship."

"That is true, Chief."

"This is the right way," and the Pindari brought his palm down upon the Government message. "I have heard men say that the English were like children in the matter of knowing nothing but the speaking of truth; I have heard some laugh at this, accounting it easy to circumvent an enemy when one has knowledge of all his intentions, but truth is strength. We have faith in children because they have not yet learned the art of a lie. In two days, Captain Sahib, thou wilt be called to an audience." He rose from his chair, and, with a hand to his forehead said: "Salaam, Sahib. May the protection of Allah be upon you!"

"Salaam, Chief," Barlow answered, and he held out a hand with a boyish frankness that caused the Pindari to grasp it, and the two stood, two men looking into each other's eyes.

"Go thou now, Sahib; thou art a man. Go alone and with quiet, for I would view this message and put it in yonder strong box before others enter."