“When I left him,” answered Kulluka, “he was still alive, but I fear the worst, and I doubt whether I shall ever more see my former pupil in life.”
“But say, what has happened?” asked Iravati. “See, I am quite composed, and can listen calmly to all you have to tell.”
Then Kulluka recounted all that he knew of Siddha’s last encounter. The Emperor had granted his earnest wish, and allowed him to march with his Rajpúts against the rebels in the north. There for some time, among the mountains so well known to him, he carried on a war which was both successful and glorious; he sought rather than avoided dangers, and had been victor in many a daring adventure, from which even the bravest of his followers had shrunk. At last, however, the insurgent bands, as he was traversing a mountain pass, managed to cut him off from the main body of his troop. After a long and hard struggle, in which many of the enemy fell before his sword, covered with wounds, he sank from his horse to the earth, while most of his followers lay either wounded or dead around him. Vatsa, who had never left his side, instead of attempting useless revenge, let himself slip from his horse, and lay motionless as though dead. A few moments later the troop arrived and drove back the enemy, and Vatsa sprang to his feet and found to his joy that his master still lived. With the help of some of the soldiers the wounded man was laid on a rude, hastily constructed litter, and carried to a Buddhist cloister in the neighbourhood. “At that moment,” continued Kulluka, “I was myself in the cloister, when the soldiers arrived with their sorely wounded leader. The good monks gladly afforded him all the help in their power. Among them was one learned in medicine, who assured me that neither skill nor care should be spared to bring him back to life. After a time Siddha regained consciousness, and seeing me, made a sign of recognition; but it was some minutes before he gained strength to speak. ‘Friend,’ he said, ‘I am going to leave you, I feel that I cannot recover. Do me a service.’ I looked inquiringly to the monk learned in healing, but he shook his head. He also seemed to have little or no hope. He strove to enjoin silence on Siddha, but Siddha heeded not. ‘I must speak,’ he said; ‘Kulluka, take the veil that you will find there with my armour, take it as quickly as possible to Iravati, and tell her that she was never so dear to me as now that death is near. Go at once, and do not wait for my death; let me die knowing that she has received this token from your hands.’ He then shut his eyes and spoke no more. I did not hesitate to fulfil his last wish; and taking the veil, and leaving Siddha to the faithful care of the monks and Vatsa, I at once set out.”
“I thank you,” said Iravati, “for the service you have rendered us both. But Siddha still lived, he was not dead when you left him? Then I know what I have to do.”
“To do?” asked the Brahman. “What can you do?”
“I shall go with you to Siddha,” answered Iravati calmly.
“You!” cried Kulluka in astonishment; “a weak, helpless woman attempt to pass through mountains and forests swarming with bands of insurgents and robbers, without a strong escort!”
“You did not fear,” was the answer, “to expose yourself to these dangers to fulfil Siddha’s wishes, and I fear them as little. Do not be afraid that you will find me a hindrance; I am not so weak, and am well accustomed to mountains and forests. No,” continued Iravati, as Kulluka made fresh objections, “do not attempt to shake my resolution, you will not succeed; and if you will not take me, then I will travel, accompanied by a servant. Do you think that I have come hastily to this determination, and that I shall draw back? I have more than once thought of the possibility of such an event as has now happened. I have often compared my life to that of Damayanti, and have determined that she should be my example. And what is my self-sacrifice to hers? Alone and despoiled of everything, she wandered through the wilderness, seeking her faithless consort. I, at least if you allow it, go under the protection of a man of tried courage, and where he can force his way I can follow.”
“His arm will never fail when you need his protection,” cried Kulluka; “and though his arm may be stiff, it still has strength enough to wield a sword. I both honour and respect the resolution to which you have come. Now prepare for the journey, and you will find me ready to undertake it with you.”
Without delay Iravati gave orders to her servant to hasten all the necessary preparations for the journey, while in a few words she told her the reason for undertaking it. The faithful Nipunika was not a little shocked when she heard the recital, but as she made an attempt to dissuade her dearly loved mistress from the undertaking, Iravati insisted on silence.