CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
Within the Gates
It was still early morning when Ahmed rode up to the red walls of Delhi; but in spite of the hour there was already much traffic through the Ajmir gate. A long line of bullock-carts was filing along the Jaipur road past the garden suburb of Paharganj, conveying country produce into the city. A regiment of sepoys was marching out of the gate towards the encampment lying across the road. To the left of the gate rose the tomb of Ghazi Khan, and in the centre of the city towered the dome and minarets of the Jama Masjid—the splendid mosque which is the Mecca of Mohammedan India. Ahmed was amazed at the vastness of this city of the Moguls. He felt as a Highland lad might feel if suddenly transplanted from his little village among the lochs and mountains to the turmoil of London.
Delhi had none of the aspects of a beleaguered city; indeed, it was never in the military sense besieged. The British force was far too small to attempt a strict investment of the great city. Men might go in and out as they pleased. The holders of the Ridge were far more closely beset. Save that his communications were open in the rear, General Barnard might himself have been considered to be in a state of siege. He was holding his ground, waiting for the opportunity to strike a blow.
Ahmed followed at the tail end of the procession of carts. As he approached the gate he observed a strong guard of armed sepoys there, and wondered whether he would have any difficulty in passing. He felt a little timid now that he was actually drawing near to the heart and focus of the great rebellion, but he crushed down the feeling, and assuming a bold front accosted one of the guard and began in his imperfect Urdu to pour out his tale of tribulation.
"Salaam, jamadar!" he said, giving the man a sausage by way of ingratiation a title at least two grades above his proper rank, and raising his right hand to his brow in due Moslem salutation; "thou dost behold one who is very thankful to Allah this day."
"Salaam, banijara," said the man. "What is this thou tellest me?"
"Thou beholdest one, a peaceable trader, as thou seest, who has escaped the very jaws of death. I was one of a small caravan bringing rich merchandise for the subahdars of the army of the faithful; nay, maybe for the most noble shadow of Allah the king himself. And lo! we were set upon in the twinkling of an eye by a troop of vile Gujars, sons of perdition, and though we fought like lions—was not Sherdil, the son of Assad, among us?—what could we do? We are not men of the sword, like thee."
"True; the camel is but as a leaf when the tiger springs upon him. Go on with thy tale."