Tales of Destiny Part 17

"Among the n.o.bles there had hitherto been the silence of stupefaction.

But at last, one of their number, an elderly man, advanced, and prostrated himself on the rich carpet spread in front of the dais, thus rendering public homage to his rightful king. 'Jai, jai, jai!' shouted the mob, and soon a dozen others among the n.o.bles had given the pledge of fealty.

"Meanwhile the kinglet on the throne of gold had been forgotten. He had made no move, but had contented himself with staring around in confused and helpless surprise. But now Todar Rao, the sirdar, had sprung to his side and dragged the youth to his feet.

"'O princes and people, this is your rightful king,' cried the soldier in stentorian tones, 'crowned and proclaimed and accepted by your pledges of loyalty. My orders to the troops are death to those who now betray him.'

"But the words had hardly pa.s.sed his lips, when two score of the mountaineers, shouting 'Deen, deen,--Kill, kill,' had swarmed over the silver railings surrounding the throne. There was the momentary clash of steel on steel, the impotent curse of an angry man, a shrill pitiful cry of anguish from the youth who in his terror had crouched behind the awnings descending from the canopy. And when the tribesmen again faced the mult.i.tude, the soldierly figure of Todar Rao had disappeared, and the throne was vacant for the reception of its rightful occupant.

"Amidst a wild tumult of joy the young prince ascended from the dais and took the royal seat, showing in his every movement the natural grace and dignity that might almost in themselves have proved his right of heritage, and that certainly won to his cause the last waverers among the onlooking mult.i.tude. Even the bodyguard of the slain sirdar were now joining in the universal acclaim.

"The first to bend a knee to the rightful king enthroned was the royal queen, his mother. And then the lady stepped back, a little to the rear and to the side of the throne, drawing her silken sari over the lovely countenance that would never again be beholden by the people.

"'Never again!' The thought had scarce pa.s.sed through my mind, as I watched the scene from the fringe of the crowd, when a more grim and terrible reality was given to the unspoken words than I had ever intended. Close to the spot where the maharanee had halted were some hangings of brocade arranged, as we understood later, so that the seated and veiled figure of a woman might observe the brilliant pageantry of the day from the privacy of this purdah.

"And from out these hangings there now stretched, stealthily but swiftly, a bejewelled hand, which plunged a long dagger between the shoulders of the queen mother.

"Without a cry she fell. I was quickly by her side, and the young maharajah and myself, as we bent over her, caught her dying words.

"'All is well, my beloved son,' she murmured. 'I have accomplished that which I was sent into the world to perform. In peace I yield my soul to G.o.d.'

"With the last word she breathed her last breath. And such is mother love."

There was a suppressed sob in more than one breast at the close of the venerable hakeem's tale. Down his own furrowed face the tears were streaming.

"And the woman who struck the foul blow?" inquired the Afghan in an eager whisper.

"The slave mother of the dead pretender. Well, she too had given her all for mother love. The tribesmen tore her limb from limb."

And the hakeem pressed a hand to his eyes to shut out the memory of a dreadful scene.

VIII. THE SACRED PICKAXE

TOLD BY THE MAGISTRATE

The first wolf-grey of the dawn was creeping over the scene, and turning to a sickly yellow the flare of the little oil lamps arranged around the veranda. The morning air bit shrewdly, and more than one of the seated or reclining figures had gathered his robes more closely around him. All eyes were now turned on the kotwal. He alone of the company had not contributed from his store of experiences.

"Methinks it is too late for any more story-telling," he protested diffidently, with gesture and glance toward the east in token that he spoke truly.

"Nay, nay," cried the Rajput, "this night will not be complete without the full measure of our entertainment. Come, come, friend; the sun is yet an hour below the horizon."

Murmurs of approval showed that the general wish had been interpreted.

"Be it so, then," a.s.sented the magistrate. "I have heard so many stories this night that it would indeed be churlish on my part to refuse to give you one of mine. Well, listen.

"Know, my friends, that I am a district judge in Delhi, presiding over that quarter known as the Bara Bazaar, where the merchants most do congregate. One day some few years ago it befell that I was seated alone in the hall where I hold my court. It was the afternoon hour, all the suits of the day had been disposed of, punishment had been meted out to those who deserved it, justice had been done to rich and poor alike, in accordance with the orders of our most righteous master Akbar, to whom be all honour and glory.

"I had taken from my garments my silver betel-nut box, and was leisurely spreading on a leaf the smear of lime preparatory to enjoying my pan supari, musing the while on the strange little ironies of life that came to my knowledge each day in the discharge of my magisterial functions.

All at once a shadow from the open doorway fell across the room. Raising my eyes, I beheld the tall figure of a man. On meeting my look he bowed his body, and with both hands outstretched, courteously salaamed me.

"'Protector of the poor, listen to my story,' he said.

"In silence, while I adjusted the fragments of betel-nut on the limed leaf and rolled up the morsel, I motioned him to a place on the edge of the carpet whereon I myself sat. For my first glance had shown me that the stranger was a man of consequence, his garments being rich and his look that of one accustomed to the exercise of authority.

"He took his seat, and arranged his flowing and finely embroidered robes around him. I proffered him the pan supari I had prepared, but with a wave of the hand he declined this courtesy. So I placed the morsel in my own mouth, fell to its meditative mastication, and awaited the beginning of his tale.

"'I am a well-to-do traveller, as you would think. O kadi--a pilgrim on my way to the sacred shrine of Juggernaut, as I profess myself to all who make inquiry and to whom an answer is due. But I am not what I appear to be. In reality you behold in me--a thug.'

"The man lowered his voice mysteriously when he p.r.o.nounced the last word, bending forward so that I might hear it.

"'And what may be a thug?' I asked, for the name to me was quite a new one.

"'Listen,' he said eagerly, and still in a low whisper. 'The thugs are wors.h.i.+ppers of Bowani.'

"'There are countless thousands who wors.h.i.+p Kali, the dread G.o.ddess,' I replied.

"'Yes, but we, the thugs, not only wors.h.i.+p her as the wife of Siva, G.o.d of destruction, but we are her devoted priests who put men to death in her name and for her glory.'

"Now indeed did I p.r.i.c.k up my ears and listen intently. But I did not suffer my awakened interest to betray itself in look or tone of voice.

"'Some fanatics may seek to justify human sacrifice,' I said. I was treading cautiously; later I would tell the man that such foul deeds were against the decrees of Akbar, and involved the penalty of death under the feet of elephants. But meanwhile I wanted his confession.

"'Ah, you know nothing about the thugs,' continued the stranger. 'But hearken to me, for I have come to tell you all, and for a reason you will presently understand. We are thousands strong, and we live in all parts of Hindustan and the Deccan. We are caste brothers, and are bound together by our wors.h.i.+p of Bowani. The traditions of our creed have been handed down for generations from father to son. You have never heard of the thugs, O kadi, although you sit in the place of justice. Do you know why? Because I am the very first of the sect who has broken his vows of silence, and spoken the word thug to one outside our secret a.s.sociation.'

"'Yet you say you are thousands strong.'

"'Yes, we are strong in numbers, but stronger still in our fidelity to our vows. When once we have sworn on the sacred pickaxe, it is impossible to speak words of treachery.'

"'If it be for the good and happiness of all men,' I interpolated, encouraging him to keep on speaking freely, 'there can be no treachery, no breaking of vows in revealing the truth.'

"'It is to reveal the truth that I have come to you. It is by the orders of Bowani herself; for I have wronged her, and she is angry and has loudly proclaimed to me that thuggee is ended--that her protection is for ever withdrawn from me and my fellows, because, O misery, we have grievously offended her. Hark! Do you not hear the voice of Bowani even now?'

"The man raised his face toward the rafters of the room, and, with right hand uplifted, his att.i.tude was one of intent listening.

"'Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy,' he murmured, in a strange absent monotone, as if repeating words he was actually hearing. 'You have broken my laws. Go now to your doom, you and all your brothers. Such priests Kali will not have. Thuggee is no more. I will seek some other wors.h.i.+ppers.'

"After a pause of tense silence, as if the listener was awaiting for more, he dropped hand and eyes. And now my mind took a new turn of thought. There was the confused, unmistakable glare of insanity in the man's eyes. Half unconsciously, I leaned back on my cus.h.i.+ons and placed a hand upon the dagger in my k.u.mmerbund.

"The stranger noticed the movement, and, lunatic though he undoubtedly appeared to be, interpreted my thoughts.

"'Be not afraid of me, master,' he said. 'This is the only weapon I carry.'

"And with these words he slipped off a silken scarf that he had been wearing loosely around his throat, and tossed it on the carpet between us.