“Ah! that is a good idea.”
“They will know well that it is a symbol of the uttermost degradation. In their own biblical records they will remember that it is stated that the sign of bondage in Eastern lands was for the women to be compelled to grind corn with the hand-mills.”
“It shall be as you suggest,” answered the Nana, thoughtfully.
“And when they have, through these means, been impressed with a sense of our power and their own thorough humiliation, then consummate your victory.”
“How, Azi?”
“By slaughtering them.”
“Hush, Azi—we will discuss that matter later on. For the present let them be conveyed to the Beebee-Ghur and carefully guarded.”
The Beebee-Ghur was a small house situated between the native city and the river. It had originally been built by a European for his native mistress, but for some years had been occupied by a humble native scrivener. It was a small, ill-ventilated place, with but wretched accommodation. The walls were blackened with smoke, and the furniture of the place consisted of a few rough deal chairs and tables. But into this place were crowded over two hundred women and children. Left there, without any certainty as to the fate for which they had been reserved, they felt all the agony of horrid suspense, and they shuddered as they thought what that fate might be. Madness seized some, and a merciful death speedily ended the sufferings of a few others.
When Nana Sahib and Azimoolah had seen their captives safely guarded, and some of the most delicate and refined ladies seated on the ground, grinding corn, they turned their horses’ heads towards the Bhitoor Palace.