The Young Rajah

by William Henry Giles Kingston

After giving orders to the chief officer of the guards to select a band of fifty trustworthy men, he changed his Oriental costume for his seaman’s dress, taking care to stick a brace of pistols and a dagger in his belt. Then ordering Bikoo to accompany him, he set out for the temple, which was in a remote part of the city.

Quaint and monstrous designs ornamented all parts of the building. Leaving the guard outside, Reginald passed under a low archway, when he found himself in a hall, on each side of which he could distinguish, through the dim obscurity, the hideous forms of the presiding divinities of the temple.

“I see no priests or worshippers in the place,” he whispered to Bikoo.

“The holy men are engaged in their devotions in the lower hall, where the tomb of the saint is situated,” answered Bikoo, leading the way.

Reginald followed, holding a pistol ready for use, should his guide prove treacherous, or the priests appear inclined to oppose his entrance. At the further end of the upper hall was a flight of steps leading downwards. The slave descended them, and Reginald boldly made his way after him. His ear then caught the sound of persons uttering prayers in low monotonous tones; and on reaching the bottom of the steps he saw, by the light of a lamp which burned on an altar on one aide of the vault, a number of strange-looking beings. Some had long matted hair hanging over their faces, and heavy iron hoops round their necks; most of them with garments scarcely sufficient for decency. Some were standing upright, beating their breasts; others were kneeling or extending themselves flat on the ground, against which they were striking their heads.

Before a tomb of richly-carved stone stood an aged man, with a long white beard, but with scarcely more clothing on him than his companions had. In his arms he held a large open volume, and though he could not, from the position in which he held it, have read its pages, he was apparently repeating the contents. Reginald doubted whether he was sufficiently absorbed in his task not to observe him as he approached. Bikoo glided noiselessly behind the tomb, while Reginald stood ready to assist him, watching the countenances of the degraded beings engaged in this strange mode of worship. Most of them stood as motionless as statues, with their eyes seemingly fixed on vacancy their lips only moving as they uttered their meaningless prayers. For a moment it struck Reginald as a clever trick of the slave to effect his escape. But at length he saw him emerge from the darkness, carrying something wrapped in a cloth, which he held close to his side to prevent the priests from seeing it. He hoped in another moment to have the long-wished-for treasure in his hand, when the seemingly unconscious beings before him dashed forward to seize Bikoo, who, springing for protection to the young rajah, gave him the casket. The priests on this turned on the white stranger, whom they now apparently perceived for the first time.

“Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” they cried out. “You are robbing us of our treasures. The curses of the gods will fall on you.”

“My friends,” exclaimed Reginald, presenting his pistol, “stand back, and I will explain myself. This casket belongs to me, and was stolen by one of your fraternity, so that I am but recovering my own. If I am rightly informed, a considerable amount of property stolen from other persons lies concealed in this vault. My guards are without, and, summoned by me, they will enter, and, taking possession of all the treasures they can find, will deliver them to their proper owners. If you refrain from interfering with my proceedings, I will allow you to continue your devotions, and to remain at present as guardians of the treasures concealed in this place.”

The priests, considering that “discretion was the better part of valour,” and seeing the bold bearing of the young stranger, allowed him and Bikoo to mount the steps; when, traversing the hall, they quickly made their way into the open air, glad to escape from the mephitic atmosphere of the vault and the fury of the priests—who, as soon as they had recovered from their astonishment, broke forth in loud cries and threats of vengeance. They grew cooler, however, on discovering the rajah’s troops at the entrance of the temple, and hurried back to their devotions with the advice they had received from the stranger strongly impressed on their minds. Many a prayer was offered up that Doorga would protect their ill-gotten wealth from the grasp of the infidels.

Followed closely by his guards, Reginald, who had a horse in waiting, rode back to the palace, carrying the precious casket, which he was unwilling to trust to other hands. On his arrival an officer met him at the gate with a message from the rajah, who was anxiously waiting his return. Reginald found him, to his surprise, on foot, pacing slowly up and down a broad verandah overlooking the city, to which he had caused his divan to be carried, that he might enjoy the fresh air.