Barclay of the Guides

by Herbert Strang

"We were like leaves, as thou sayest, when the wind blows. We were scattered, and I in my haste quitted the road, and by the grace of Allah got myself away among trees and bushes, and so escaped. And I wandered long, and by great good fortune found myself at length upon this very road. 'Twas good fortune indeed, for had we not been molested we might verily have blundered upon the camp of the Feringhis, and then my goods would have come to the hands of vile kafirs instead of true believers. And now that I have found the city of peace, I would fain know of some good serai where men of my folk are wont to resort, so that I may rest somewhat from my journey before I carry my goods to the subahdars and have some recompense for my toils and perils."

He slipped a coin into the man's hand; bakshish would always smooth the way.

"In very truth thou hast been fortunate," said the sepoy; "yet not wholly, for it is no good time for buying and selling in Delhi. We soldiers—even the subahdars, save some few who made great plunder at the first rising—cry out for money, and there is none that hears. Yet thou mayst find some of the princes who will look at thy wares: go in peace."

And he gave Ahmed the names of two or three serais frequented by traders of his nation. Ahmed went on his way rejoicing. He had asked for the Afghan serais merely to avoid them; his imposture might be discovered if he came among genuine merchants. After a little trouble and discreet inquiries he found a humble inn at the corner of the Moti Bazar, near the centre of the city and not far from the Kotwali—the head-quarters of the city police—and having left his wares and his camel in the charge of the bhatiyara, he sallied out into the thronging streets, to learn somewhat of the immense city in which, as he supposed, his lot was for some time to be cast.

He made his way first to the Chandni Chauk, and was amazed at the shops which lined that thoroughfare. He had seen shops in Peshawar, but none like these. The street was thronged, and the people were talking excitedly in groups. Hovering on the outskirts of one of these he heard the name of Bakht Khan frequently mentioned, and by and by made out that this rebel artillery officer was expected to arrive shortly with a vast host which would sweep all the Feringhis before it. He went on until he reached the palace, and stood for some time watching the streams of people coming and going—officers, court officials, scribes, bankers—all showing signs of the same excitement. Then he passed on by the palace wall until he reached the Calcutta gate, and saw the fort of Selimgarh stretching out into the river, and learnt from a bystander whom he ventured to address that it was by this very route that the first mutineers had ridden in from Meerut; and there, a little to the left, was the Magazine, the scene of Lieutenant Willoughby's great exploit, when, after defending his post with nine companions against a horde of assailants, he at last blew it up rather than let it fall into the hands of the rebels.

When midday came he was tired and hungry, and returned to the serai for a meal. Later in the day, when the heat was past, he unloaded his bales, hired a coolie, and set forth to offer his wares to the Prince Mirza Mogul, subahdar of the volunteer regiment of native infantry, who seemed to be one of the most important persons in the city. But on arriving at the head-quarters of the regiment he found that the prince had gone to attend a darbar at the palace. Some of the subordinate officers, however, were curious to see the contents of the bale he had brought, and he displayed before them the fabrics he had purchased in Karnal with money given him by Hodson Sahib. Many of the officers, in spite of their having received little or no pay from the King of Delhi, were rich with the spoils of looted provincial treasuries, and were quite ready to bargain for the many-coloured shawls whose merits Ahmed extolled with oriental extravagance.

It takes a long time to conclude a bargain in the East, and Ahmed knew enough of the part he was to play to make no attempt to shorten the business. After haggling for an hour or two he allowed the purchasers to buy some of his goods at what they considered very low prices, not forgetting to assure them that he was being absolutely ruined, and but for the disturbance of trade, due to the upheaval, he would not dream of parting with his wares at such low figures. And he told over again the story of his providential escape from the Gujars, and made himself so pleasant that the officers gossiped freely with him about things that were happening—of the regiments that were expected to arrive in the city, the confiscation of the property of Beg Begam Shamen, the shooting of four spies who had been captured in the English camp. Above all, they complained of the stinginess of the miserable old king, who would neither pay them their arrears nor allow them to obtain their just dues by exerting pressure on the shroffs. They talked in very large terms of the wealth they would secure when the Feringhis were finally defeated, and Ahmed went away feeling that at present they had absolute confidence in their ultimate success.

Next day he heard sounds of firing, and learnt by and by that an engagement had taken place with the English at Sabzi Mandi, a suburb at the southern end of the Ridge. Presently a great mob of yelling fanatics rushed into the city with an elephant they had captured from the English, and they led it in triumph to the palace as a present for the king. Ahmed followed in their wake, accompanied by his coolie with a bale. He had learnt that a regiment of sepoys was quartered in temporary barracks close to the palace, and it seemed likely that the officers might be in the mood to become purchasers. On reaching the barracks he found that they had gone to the palace to join in acclaiming the leaders of the force which had that day, according to their own account, done prodigious execution among the enemy. Ahmed was not sorry; while waiting for the return of the officers he would have an opportunity of gleaning a little information from the men. And so, after a little exchange of courtesies, he said—

"Without doubt such fine men as you must have a famous warrior as leader."

"Without doubt, though we know him little yet," was the reply. "He is, at any rate, a fellow-countryman of yours, O banijara, and a very devout man."