"Will you set this wretch before my eyes on the gaddi from which he has swept his father and his brother?" she shrieked. "Can the heavens look down on such a sight of shame, and not grow black?"
The soldiers cowered before her, but a short thick-set man pushed his way to the front. "I am not wise," he said, and a laugh answered him, "but a plain man may ask questions that the learned cannot answer. Her Highness desires us to slay Sher Singh. For whose benefit? say I. She says he is a murderer, but even if it were so—which I see no cause to believe—he is the last of Partab Singh's house. To whom should the kingdom fall, if he were slain? To her Highness herself—who might then be less desirous of death? To her friends the English? perhaps to Jirad Sahib—who would not be the first to owe a throne to a woman's favour. Not one of these has any cause to desire the death of Sher Singh, of course—I lay my hand upon my mouth for having even uttered the thought—but who then does desire it? Not the soldiers of Partab Singh, say I."
"And thou sayest well, brother!" burst from the soldiers. "Sher Singh Rajah! We will set him on the gaddi, and by the might of the Guru! if the English interfere, we will fight them." Out of the tumult in the ranks a high thin voice rose above the rest. "Back to the zenana, shameless one! Wilt thou disgrace thy lord, as she of Ranjitgarh doth daily?"
The two Englishmen and their followers moved towards the Rani to protect her, but she waved them back with measureless contempt, then turned upon the jeering soldiers with eyes glowing like live coals.
"Truly Jirad Sahib spoke well when he warned me that you, for whom I have stripped myself of the very jewels of my marriage-portion, designed only to play me false. Ai Guru! what a lot is mine, to dwell in a land where the men are as women, even as those that sell themselves for gain! Hear then the curse of the widow, the childless one. Behold the unavenged ashes of my son!" she thrust forth the brazen urn. "As I cover them from your unworthy sight with the cloth stained with his innocent blood"—sweeping her veil over it—"so shall the blood of Agpur extinguish the burning embers of her houses. As you have cried shame upon me, seeking to avenge my dead, so shall your childless mothers and your widowed wives find shame in seeking to avenge you, and the death of honour shall be denied them. For innocent blood shall the doom come, though my eyes shall not behold it, and through these two Feringhees"—she indicated Gerrard and Charteris—"who shall execute justice on the murderer in the day when they shall make a road for a corpse through the great wall of Agpur."
"The doom is easily averted, if only by slaying the two Feringhees and the woman here and now," said the short man who had stood forth as Sher Singh's champion, but this time his words did not meet with the former ready response.
"Aye, do so," said the Rani coolly, "and bring the English down upon you to fulfil the curse as soon as it is uttered."
She faced the ready weapons defiantly, but Sher Singh, who had been sitting drooping upon the edge of the palanquin, apparently too weak either to defend himself or to interfere to prevent a massacre, now summoned strength again and interposed.
"The army has spoken truth," he said. "I am Rajah, grievous as is the cause that brings me to the gaddi, and evil as shall be the fate of the murderers of my brother. Against Jirad Sahib I bear no malice for his doubts of me, for he has been led astray by the bitter tongue of a woman crazed with grief. She demands vengeance; I will be her avenger, as is fitting, since my father was her husband. In my house she will receive due honour as his widow, and it will fare ill with any man who speaks of shame in connection with this day. Let her Highness be conducted back to her elephant and carried into the fort, where a suitable reception awaits her."
"Not unless she wills it," said Gerrard firmly. "Where does your Highness choose to dwell?" he asked of the Rani, who stood waiting impassively.