CHAPTER XXIII
When the two had gone Kassim clapped his hands together: "Now then for the ordeal, the search for truth," he declared.
Hot wood-ashes were poured into the horse-bag, and, protesting, cursing, struggling, the powerful Bagree was dragged to the centre of the room.
"Who sent thee to murder Amir Khan?" Kassim asked.
"Before Bhowanee, Prince, I did not kill him!"
At a wave of Kassim's hand upward the bag of ashes was clapped over the decoit's head, and he was pounded on the back to make him breathe in the deadly dust. Then the bag was taken off, and gasping, reeling, he was commanded to speak the truth. Once Kassim said: "Dog, this is but gentle means; torches will be bound to thy fingers and lighted. The last thing that will remain to thee will be thy tongue, for we have need of that to utter the truth."
Three times the nosebag was applied to Hunsa, like the black cap over the head of a condemned murderer, and the last time, rolling on the floor in agony, his lungs on fire, his throat choked, his eyes searing like hot coals, he gasped that he would confess if his life were spared.
"Dog!" Kassim snarled, "thy life is forfeit, but the torture will cease; it is reward enough—speak!"
But the Bagree had the obstinate courage of a bulldog; the nerves of his giant physical structure were scarce more vibrant than those of a bull; as to the torture it was but a question of a slower death. But his life was something to bargain for. Half dead from the choking of his lungs, with an animal cunning he thought of this; it was the one dominant idea in his numbed brain. As he lay, his mighty chest pumping its short staccato gasps, Commander Kassim said: "Bring the dog of an infidel water that he may tell the truth."
When water had been poured down the Bagree's throat, he rolled his bloodshot eyes beseechingly toward the Commander, and in a voice scarce beyond a hoarse whisper, said: "If you do not kill me, Prince, I will tell what I know."
"Tell it, dog, then die in peace," Kassim snarled.
But Hunsa shook his gorilla head, and answered, "Bhowanee help me, I will not tell. If I die I die with my spirit cast at thy shrine."
Kassim stamped his foot in rage; and a jamadar roared: "Tie the torches to the infidel's fingers; we will have the truth."
Half-a-dozen Pindaris darted forward, and poised in waiting for the command to bind to the fingers of the Bagree oil-soaked torches; but Kassim moved them back, and stood, his brow wrinkled in pondering, his black eyes sullenly fixed on the face of the Bagree. Then he said: "What this dog knows is of more value to our whole people, considering the message that has been brought, than his worthless life that is but the life of a swine."
He took a turn pacing the marble floor, and with his eyes called a jamadar to one side. "These thugs, when they cast themselves in the protection of Kali, die like fanatics, and this one is but an animal. Torture will not bring the truth. Mark you, Jamadar, I will make the compact with him. Do not lead an objection, but trust me."
"But the dead Chief, Commander—?"
"Yes, because of him; he loved his people. And the knowledge that yon dog has he would not have sacrificed."
"But is Amir Khan to be unavenged?" the jamadar queried.
"Allah will punish yonder infidel for the killing of one of the true faith. Go and summon the officers from below and we will decide upon this."
Soon a dozen officers were in the room, and the sowars were sent away. Then Kassim explained the situation saying: "A confession brought forth by torture is often but a lie, the concoction of a mind crazed with pain. If this dog, who has more courage than feeling, sees the chance of his life he will tell us the truth."
But they expostulated; saying that if they let him go free it would be a blot upon their name.
"The necessity is great," Kassim declared, "and this I am convinced is the only way. We may leave his punishment to Allah, for Allah is great. He will not let live one so vile."
Finally the others agreed with Kassim who said that he would take the full onus upon himself for not slaying the murderer, that if there were blame let it be upon his head. Then he spoke to Hunsa: "This has been decided upon, dog, that if thou confess, reveal to us information that is of value to our people, the torture shall cease, and no man's head in the whole Pindari camp shall be raised against thee either to wound or take thy life."
"But the gaol, Hazari Sahib?"
"No, dog, if thou but tell the truth in full, that we may profit, to-morrow thou may go free, and if any man in the camp wounds thee his life will pay for it. Till noon thou may have for the going; even food for thy start on the way back to the land of thy accursed tribe. By the Beard of the Prophet no man of all the Pindari force shall wound thee. Now speak quick, for I have given a pledge."
There were murmurs amongst the jamadars at Kassim's terms, for their hearts were full of hate for the creature who had slain their loved chief. But Kassim was a man famous for his intelligence. In all the councils Amir Khan had been swayed by the Hazari's judgment. It was an accursed price to pay, they felt, but the Chief was dead; to kill his slayer perhaps was not as great a thing as to have Hunsa's confession written and attested to. All that vast horde of fierce riding Pindaris and Bundoolas had been gathered by Amir Khan with the object of being a power in the war that was brewing—the war in which the Mahrattas were striving for ascendency, and the British massing to crush the Mahratta horde. It had been Amir Khan's policy to strike with the winning force; perhaps his big body of hard-riding sowars being the very power that would throw the odds to one or other of the contenders. Their reward would be loot, unlimited loot, so dear to the heart of the Pindari, and an assignment of territory. To know, beyond doubt, who had instigated the murder of the Chief was precious knowledge. It might be, as the Gulab had said, Sindhia's Dewan, but there was the English officer there at that time; and the message of friendship may have been a message of deceit and the true object the slaying of Amir Khan who was looked upon as a great leader.
Hunsa had lain watching furtively the effect of the Commander's words upon the others; now he said, "I will tell the truth, Hazari, for thou hast given a promise in the name of Allah that I am free of death at the hands of thy people."
"Wait, dog of an infidel!" Kassim commanded: "quick, call the Mullah to write the confession, for this is a sin to be washed out in much blood, and the proof must be at hand so the guilty will have no plea for mercy. Also it is a matter of secrecy; we here being officers will have it on our honour, and the Mullah, because of his priesthood, will not speak of it: also he will bear witness of its sanctity."
Soon a Pindari announced, "Commander Sahib, here is the holy one," and at a word from Kassim the priest unrolled his sheets of yellow paper, and sitting cross-legged upon a cushion with a salaam to the dead Chief, dipped his quill in a little ink-horn and held it poised.
Then Hunsa, his eyes all the time furtively watching the scowling faces about him; fear and distrust in his heart over the gift of his life, but impelled by his knowledge that it was his only chance, narrated the story of Nana Sahib and the Dewan's scheme to rid the Mahrattas of the leader they feared, Amir Khan; told that they knew that the British were sending overtures for an alliance, but that fearing to kill the messenger—unless it could be done so secretly it would never be discovered—they had determined to remove the Chief. When he spoke of the other Bagrees, Kassim realised that in the excitement of fixing the murder upon one there they had forgotten his troop associates, and a hurried order was passed for their capture.
Of course it was too late; the others, at the first alarm, had slipped away.
When the confession was finished Kassim commanded the Mullah to rub his cube of India ink over the thumb of the decoit and the mark was imprinted on the paper. Then he was taken to one of the cave cells cut out of the solid rock beneath the palace, and imprisoned for the night.
"Come, Jamadars," Kassim said—and his voice that had been so coarse and rough now broke, and sobs floated the words scarce articulate—"and reverently let us lay Amir Khan upon his bed. Then, though there be no call of the muezzin, we will kneel here; even without our prayer carpets, and pray to Allah for the repose of the soul of a true Musselman and a great warrior. May his rest be one of peace!"
He passed his hand lovingly over the face of the Chief and down his beard, and his strong fearless eyes were wet.
Then Amir Khan was lifted by the Jamadars and carried to a bed in the room that adjoined the surya mahal.
When they had risen from their silent prayer, Kassim said: "Go ye to your tents. I will remain here with the guard who watch."