The force marched late one day. Moro Trimmul had ascertained that the litters and followers generally, would not arrive in camp before nightfall. It was dark, for there was no moon; and he laid his plans accordingly. Day and night, he and Gunga, in various disguises, had watched about the Khan's tents, and had tried to get speech of the servants. He dare not come openly, except to the Khan's Durbar, where he heard nothing. He was nearly hopeless of success, when he understood casually that the evening march was determined upon. All the force was not to move; but some only with the Khan, for the sake of convenience of supplies and water. It was a short stage—only four or five miles, and the Khan's tents were to precede the force. He and his family were to remain in a village for the night, and several houses had been cleared for him. Thus much had Gunga picked up, and for once, fortune seemed to favour their designs.
Fazil had recovered, and again rode with his men. Tara, therefore, once more occupied the litter, which was closed, and carried with those of Lurlee and Zyna. Had she continued to ride as she wished, nothing could have happened. As it grew dark Moro Trimmul—with a small body of horsemen which he had detached from the Envoy's and kept about his own person—followed Tara's litter at a distance, and yet so as not to interfere with it. As it grew dark, and they neared the place where they were to stop for the night, he observed that Tara's palankeen was the last: he knew it from the white devices sewn on the red cover; and he dexterously, yet apparently unpremeditatedly, pushed his horsemen between it and the others, in a narrow lane, in which litters, horsemen, and soldiers were much crowded together. Then he stopped his men, pretending there was obstruction in front; and so the litters of Lurlee and Zyna, which were surrounded by footguards and guides as usual, went on for some distance, never missing the one behind.
Moro Trimmul was exultant. At the next turn in the road, his own servants, who had been instructed beforehand, went to the bearers of Tara's litter, pretending to have been seeking them, and, abusing them roundly for their carelessness in remaining behind, bade them come on rapidly. The men followed blindly; they knew they were to go to a village, and here was one; and, pressing forward, they presently reached a house to which they were directed.
"Put down the palankeen. Gosha! Gosha! Murdana! Murdana!" was cried by several voices; and a screen of cloth being stretched, as usual, from the palankeen to the entrance of the court, and the door of the litter opened, Tara emerged from it unsuspiciously: then the door was instantly closed behind her, a thick shawl was thrown round her head which almost stifled her, and she felt herself taken up by powerful arms, and carried rapidly onwards. She struggled violently, but a voice she knew but too well, hissed into her ear through the shawl, "Be quiet, else I will kill you;" and for a moment she lost consciousness.
[CHAPTER LXVII.]
Tara revived as the shawl was pushed roughly from her head, and the cool air reached her face; in another moment she was set down in a verandah, closed from the outer court by thick woollen curtains, in which a small lamp, placed in a niche, glimmered faintly. There could be no doubt now. Releasing her, Moro Trimmul drew himself up, panting with the exertion of carrying her, and looked at her from head to foot ere he spoke; while Gunga, advancing from a dark corner of the room, and bending lowly with a mock gesture of reverence, touched the ground near her feet, and then retreated a pace so as to see her better.
"Thou hast had powerful friends, Tara," said the Brahmun bitterly, and with a scornful sneer—"very powerful; even the enemy's general and his fair son; but the gods are not with them, but with me. Once, in blood and terror, didst thou escape me; but not now, girl—never more. Now thou art mine, and there is nothing between thee and me; nor sister, nor father, nor mother; only thee, and only me; and thou hast a long account of misery to pay me."
"The holy Moorlee of the goddess forgot her faith and her vow among the cow-slaying infidels; and the Mother hath sent me to bring her back from her dainty lover, who rides in cloth-of-gold and bright armour," said Gunga, with another mock reverence. "Art thou ready, O Moorlee of Toolja Máta? ready to be such as I am, in her service? Come! there is thy master and mine; be content that thou art saved the sin of faithlessness to her. Didst thou think she—the Mother," continued the girl, advancing a step at each word till she was close to Tara, who shrank from her—"the Mother would loose thee from thy vow to be the petted toy of an unclean Toork? O Tara, didst thou think it? Ah, yes! I know thou didst, faithless, when the fair boy's arms were about thee."