It is now necessary to revisit Abdool Rhyman Khan and his party, whom we left at a small village in the pass leading behind Pencondah, and in their company to travel awhile through those districts which lay between them and the city whither they were bound.

There were no dangers now in their path, no attacks from the Mahrattas to be apprehended, nor was there the irksome heat which oppressed and wearied them before. A few showers had already fallen, the earth had put on its verdant covering, and travelling was now a pleasure more than a fatigue. The Khan had intended proceeding by easy stages, but the news he had heard of rumours of fresh wars, of the personal activity of Tippoo among the army, which was always the forerunner of some campaign, made him more than usually solicitous to press forward.

So on the fifth day they were at Balapoor; and leaving the lady to the care of the servants to rest for awhile, the Khan, accompanied by Kasim, rode forward to the town and fort of Nundidgroog, where he knew some of his own men were stationed.

‘Do you see that pile of rocks yonder?’ said the Khan to Kasim, as they rode along.

‘I do; why do you ask?’

‘Because,’ he replied, ‘that is a place well worth seeing, and one which was a rare favourite of Hyder Ali’s—may his memory be honoured!’

‘Why? Had he a summer-house there?’

‘Yes, there is a sort of a house there, to be sure,’ returned the Khan laughing; ‘but not one of pleasure, I should think. Many a poor wretch has been in it, who would have given the wealth of the world, had he possessed it, to have got out again.’

‘It is a prison then?’

‘It is, and one from which but few return alive.’

‘How so? You do not mean to say that they are murdered?’

‘I mean to tell you plainly, that you had better not get into it; few of our people have ever been sent there, for it is reserved for the kafir English—may their tribe be accursed!—and a few of them are now and then thrown from the top, to terrify the rest into submission to the Sultaun’s will, and to become a feast for the kites and crows. Look! I suppose some of them have been cast over lately, for there are vultures wheeling in the air overhead, and making stoops as if they would alight.’

Kasim shuddered; he thought it a base death for any one to die, to be thrown from thence—to reach the bottom haply alive!—and to be left to struggle there maimed and helpless—to linger till death came, accelerated perhaps by the jackals or vultures.

‘Have you ever seen this, Khan?’ asked Kasim.

‘Never, but I know those who have: the office of executioner is no enviable one to a soldier; and he who has this post, though as arrant a coward as can well be in the field, yet can stand by and see brave men hurled over these rocks; for, to do them justice, the English are brave as lions and their courage cannot be quelled: we learned that at Perambaukum, to our cost.’

‘Ay, I have heard of that. Report states it to have been a good battle.’

‘Mashalla! you may say so; and, blessed be Alla! the arms of the true believers were victorious over the infidels; yet they fought well, and, though a handful of men, defied our utmost attacks and continued charges.’

‘Then you were there, Ali Khan?’

‘Yes. I was then in the Pagha—the Royal Guard; and I was desired by Hyder (peace be on his name!) to protect Tippoo Sahib, who led the charges. He fought like a tiger as he is, and many of the infidels tasted of death at his hand; but one of them, as we charged and overthrew their last square, made a thrust with his bayonet at the young prince, which—praise to Mahomed!—I parried; and in return, caused him to taste of death. The young man never forgot that deed, and some others I was fortunate enough to perform before him, and I am what I am.’

‘Then, like those of his rank, he does not forget benefits?’

‘Never; he is faithful to those he loves, but a bitter foe to those who provoke him. Above all, the English are his detestation; he sees their restless love of intrigue and power; he knows how they have sown dissensions in Bengal, and wrested many fair provinces from the sway of the true believers; he fears their abilities and knowledge of the arts of war; and though he has some French in his service, yet he can see plainly enough that they have not the powers of the others either to contrive or to execute. Above all, he fears the prophecy about him by a holy man whom he consulted, which no doubt you have heard.’

‘No, indeed, I have not.’

‘Not heard that? Ajaib! it is very strange; but how could you, after all. Know then, that as he sat one day in one of the innermost apartments of the palace in the garden of the Deria Doulut—where no one could by any possibility have access to him, and where he was engaged in study—there was heard a voice conversing with him, and his was gradually raised till it became furious, as, Inshalla! it often does to the terror of his enemies.’

‘Taajoob!’ exclaimed Kasim, ‘who was it?’

‘Willa alum! (God knows),’ replied the Khan. ‘But listen: it is said the Mushaek^[23]—for so he appeared to be—cried to him with a loud voice, and bade him beware of the English Feringhees, for they were plotting against him; and that though the day was far distant, yet danger threatened him from them which could not be avoided. Then some say that the being (may Alla forgive me if he hears it!) upbraided the Sultaun with many errors of faith, and with being given to idolatry in private, and with doing magic, to the hurt of his own soul; and it was this which made him so angry.’

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‘And who was it after all?’

‘Alla knows!’ said the Khan mysteriously; ‘Alla knows! Some people say it was a Fakeer named Shah Yoonoos, who had wandered in unknown to anybody, and had reached the Sultaun’s chamber; but others say it was one of the spirits of the air (over whom it is known he has power) who had taken that form to visit him by day. But Alla only knows the truth, after all. Certain it is, however, that he does perform rites which I, as a humble and pious Mahomedan, would object to.’

‘Did no one try to seize the intruder?’

‘Many, so it is said; but he passed forth from among them all, and has not been seen since.’

‘Most extraordinary, certainly! I marvel not now, Khan, that he should be so suspicious of the English. I for one long to have a blow with them, and to see how they fight.’

‘Inshalla! the opportunity will not be long wanting; you will have it ere you have been long with us. But among our people here we shall learn something, for they have always the quickest information from the capital.’

Shortly afterwards they rode into the outer court of the Temple of Nundi, at the town under the fort of Nundidroog, and the scene which presented itself to the eyes of Kasim was as novel as it was interesting.

The court was a large square, contained in a sort of piazza formed by a colonnade of huge square blocks of granite placed in three rows, about twelve feet asunder, each piece probably sixteen feet in height; across these at the top, to form a roof, were transverse pieces of equal length. The spaces between the pillars thus placed, formed excellent stalls for horses, and the enormous area was thus converted into one huge stable,—where of old the Brahmin priests had wandered, dispensing charitable aid to the wretched, or instructing those who thirsted for knowledge.

In the centre were a few gay tents, and many camels were sitting and standing around them; several elephants too were busied with huge piles of leafy branches before them, selecting the tenderest morsels, and brushing away flies with others. Around were groups of men,—some lying under a rude screen, formed of three spears tied together, with a cloth thrown over them; others lounging and swaggering about, gaily dressed, and armed to the teeth; many were gathered into knots, and, either sitting upon spread carpets or standing together, were occupied in smoking, or listening to some itinerant musicians or storytellers. In various parts were little booths, where coarse confectionery was sold; and many a portly-bellied group of money-changers, with their keen and shrewd eyes, were sitting on the ground, naked to the waist, with heaps of courees and pice^[24] spread before them. There were women selling fruit out of baskets and sacks, others hawking about sour curds; with a thousand other busy, bustling occupations going on with vigour, for which the presence of the cavalry found full employment.

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Before them, and above the piazzas, appeared the richly ornamented and curious high pyramidical roofs of the temples, and their massive and decorated gateway; and above all frowned the bare rock of the fort,—a naked mass of about eight hundred feet perpendicular, arising from a rugged and woody slope of an equal height. The walls around the summit, which were built upon the very giddy verge, were bristling with cannon, and the numbers of men about showed that it possessed many defenders.

All these objects, assisted by the bright colours of the costumes, the caparisons of the horses, camels, and elephants, some of which were already equipped for travel, formed a picture which, glowing under the slanting beams of an afternoon sun, caused the young man’s heart to bound with delight as they entered the large square and rode onwards among the motley crowd.

‘What think you of my fine fellows, Kasim?’ said the Khan, as they passed various groups of stout, soldier-like men. ‘Inshalla! they are worth looking at.’

‘Ul-humd-ul-illa! they most truly are,’ replied the young man, who was, to say the truth, somewhat bewildered by the excitement of the scene. ‘And do you really command all these, O Khan?’

‘Most of them, I daresay, are my youths, Kasim; but I have no doubt some of the garrison of the fort are here also, and it would be difficult to distinguish them. But these are not all; Mashalla! and praise to the Sultaun’s bounty, we have as many more at least—nay, three times as many—at the city. But there is surely more activity than usual going on, and this looks marvellously like the preparations for a march; so let us press on to the tent yonder, for there shall we find Hubeeb Oolla Khan, or Shekh Jaffur Sahib, my Jemadars, who will answer my queries. I marvel none of my rogues have yet found me out.’

‘Why, they can hardly see your face, Khan,’ said Kasim; ‘and I daresay they little expect you to drop, as it were, from the clouds thus suddenly among them.’

‘Perhaps not; but here we are at the tent: dismount, and let us enter together.’

As he spoke, the Khan alighted, and unfolding the muslin scarf which had been tied about his face, he was instantly recognised by a number of the men who were lounging about in front of it, and who now crowded round him with congratulations.

‘The Khan Sahib is come!’ shouted several to their companions.

‘My lord’s footsteps are welcome!’ cried those who were nearest. ‘Inshalla! victory waits upon them.’

‘It is a fortunate hour that has brought him,’ cried another, who pressed forward, and bowed before him. ‘What are my lord’s wishes? let him order his slave Dilawur Ali to perform them.’

‘Ha! art thou there, friend?’ said the Khan. ‘Well, since thou wishest for employment, go on, and tell the Jemadar Sahib that I am here. Which of the officers is with you?’

‘Jaffur Sahib, Khodawund! he will have rare news for my lord;’ and he departed.

‘This looks like a march,’ said the Khan to another: ‘say, is it so?’

‘It is, protector of the poor! but we know but little of the true cause as yet, though many rumours are afloat; the most prevalent is—’

But here he was interrupted by the Jemadar himself, who had hurried from his tent, and now advanced towards them. The two leaders embraced cordially.

‘Ul-humd-ul-illa! you are welcome, Khan Sahib,’ said Jaffur; ‘but do not remain here: come, I pray you, to your servant’s tent, and rest after your journey.’

He went in, and was soon seated upon the soft cushions of the Jemadar’s musnud. Kasim followed, but, uncertain how to act, he continued standing, until he was desired by the Khan to be seated near him. This, together with the Khan’s marked attention to the young man, appeared rather to disconcert the Jemadar, who regarded the new comer with some suspicion, and Kasim could not help imagining with some dislike. I shall have an enemy in this man, thought Kasim for an instant; but again, he reflected that he had nothing to fear, and soon ceased to regard the furtive looks of the Jemadar, which were cast upon him from time to time, as the Khan appealed to him in support of his opinions or remarks during the conversation, which naturally turned upon the movements of the corps of cavalry he commanded.

It was true that the corps was about to move: all the outposts, except a few of those immediately upon the Mahratta frontier, had been called in, and had joined within the past day or two; and the morrow had been fixed for the departure of the whole from Nundidroog towards the capital. For the reason of this many rumours were in circulation: the Jemadar said that a sudden rupture with the English was one; that there was only to be a muster of the cavalry was another; and after that was finished the Sultaun intended to go a-hunting into the forest bordering upon Coorg. But there was a third, which had been confirmed by news that day received from the city, that some very angry messages had passed between the Rajah of Travancore and the Sultaun, and that both had ordered musters of their forces. This the Jemadar thought the most likely of all, as he knew there had been negotiations pending between the Sultaun and the Rajah relative to some forts which had been taken possession of in a manner that did not appear warrantable by the latter.

For the present, the Khan and Kasim were the guests of the Jemadar; and having partaken of refreshment, they set out to procure a resting place for the night, or one where they should be able to have their tents pitched.

As they went forth, many were the hearty greetings which saluted the Khan; every veteran especially, whose bronzed and furrowed face showed that the scorching heats of summer had for many a year passed over him in constant and active employment; and many a man, whose deeply-scarred face or breast gave a sure proof of often tried courage, met him with that hearty familiarity, and yet scrupulous deference, which, while it yielded nothing to the man, yet showed submission to authority and high respect for rank. All were unanimous in rejoicing that the Khan had returned, in such terms as, while it gratified Kasim to think he had become the friend and companion of one so honoured and beloved, caused him also to suspect that the Jemadar Jaffur Sahib was not much liked among them.

Nor indeed was he. Sprung from the lowest rank of the people, he possessed ferocity of character, which had early attracted the notice of the Sultaun, and he had risen rapidly to the station he held. He had also been a ready instrument in his hand to effect any cruelty he willed; and if war was to be carried into any district where Mahomedanism had not advanced, and forcible conversions of the inhabitants were to be made, or if any of the unoffending people were to be hung because they would not become converts, Jaffur Sahib was generally selected, as well from his address as a soldier, as from his unscrupulous character, from among the others of the same stamp who abounded about the person of the Sultaun. He was born at Arcot, and inherited all the narrow prejudice and extreme bigotry peculiar to his townsmen, and hated all English with a malignity, in which perhaps he was only excelled through all that host by the Sultaun himself.

The presence of Kasim, in such intimate association with his commander, immediately became a source of vexation to him; and as suddenly as he had seen him, he had conceived a violent aversion to him. He saw generous courage, honesty, and faithfulness written upon the brow of the young man; and as none of these found any place in his own heart, so did he at once dislike the fancied possessor of them; for he knew the Khan’s generous nature, and how easily all the authority he had by incessant intrigues possessed himself of, might be reduced in a moment by one who, after becoming acquainted with the details of the service, could not fail of observing that many abuses existed under his fostering care. The Khan had not mentioned Kasim to him, nor could he divine in what capacity he attended upon his person, and he burned with curiosity to discover. When the Khan was gone, therefore, he addressed himself to his chief Sontaburdar, or bearer of a silver club, whose name was Madar Sahib, a man who had followed his fortunes, and often shared whatever spoil was wrung from the unfortunate whom they could get into their power. There was something too in his retainer’s face which seemed to expect the question; and at the slight turn of his master towards him, who had been musing ‘with the finger of deliberation placed between the teeth of vexation,’ he folded his hands and bent himself to listen. They were alone, for every one else had followed the Khan when he went out.

‘The curses of the Shietan upon the old fool,’ he said; ‘could not he have kept away for a day longer? I tell thee, Madar, this appearance of his is not only a thousand rupees out of my pocket, but the loss to me of all the honour, credit, and influence which a short campaign would have given. I say a curse on him.’

‘Ameen!’ said his servant; ‘my lord’s star is unfortunate to-day; but, Inshalla! it will brighten.’

‘And then that smooth-faced boy that he has brought with him,’ he continued, not heeding the other’s remark, ‘I’ll warrant, his prime favourite. Knowest thou aught of him?’

‘Nothing, Khodawund; but I can inquire.’

‘Do so,—see what hath brought them together. Perhaps he is the brother of this new wife he has married—the old dotard! if so, we may soon expect to get our leave to depart, Madar, for the old Khan will use his utmost influence to secure a good place near himself for his pet.’

‘Alla forbid! my lord has no cause to think so as yet; but I go, and will soon bring the information.’

While this colloquy was going on, the Khan and Kasim had gone forward to seek for a place of temporary refuge; and after examining many parts of the broken cloisters, all of which afforded but indifferent shelter, Dilawur Ali, who had been looking about, suddenly returned.

‘I have found a place, O Khan,’ he cried; ‘come and see; it is clean, and if we had any kanats,^[25] we could make it comfortable enough for a night’s lodging.’

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They followed him onwards to the end of the large square; and entering through a small doorway, found themselves in a square court, in the centre of which was a cistern of water, which could be approached by easy steps for the convenience of bathers. There was a deep cloister all round, supported upon carved pillars of wood, which afforded ample accommodation for the Khan’s party. It was the upper part of the outside, however, which attracted their attention and admiration; and indeed the exquisite design and ornaments of the screen would merit a description at our hands, if anything so intricate could be described so as to give any idea of the building, but it consisted of a regular number of highly ornamented niches in the most florid Hindoo style, each niche containing some many-armed image of Hindoo veneration, male or female, in grotesque attitudes. The whole was of pure white stucco, and contrasted brightly with the dark green of some noble tamarind-trees which nodded over it, their light feathery sprays mingling with the innumerable angles and pinnacles of the architecture. Above these rose the tall summits of the temples, and again the naked grey mass of the huge granite rock frowned over all, appearing to overhang the scene.

‘Ay, this will do right well,’ cried the Khan; ‘we have not been in such comfortable quarters for many days. The camels will soon be here, and then a place can be screened off and made private. Often as I have been at the fort, I never discovered this quiet spot before: truly the kafir who built it had wisdom; and for once (may the Prophet pardon me!) I honour one of the accursed race. What sayest thou, Kasim?’

‘I doubt not that forgiveness will be easily granted for an offence so slight, Khan Sahib. I confess that I for one have many friends among the unbelievers; and, though I hate their idolatry, yet I cannot help loving their gentle dispositions, and admiring their genius, which after all is the gift of Alla to them as much as to us.’

‘You must not give vent to such opinions as those, Kasim,’ replied the Khan; ‘must he, Dilawur Ali? for at the city there is nought breathed but destruction of the infidels of all denominations; and if thou wouldst not make enemies, thou must chime in with the prevailing humour, or keep thy thoughts to thyself.’

‘Good advice, noble Khan,’ said Dilawur Ali; ‘there are quick ears enough to hear, and ready tongues enough to convey to the Sultaun (may his prosperity increase!) whatever malice or spite may dictate to bad hearts; and we need not go very far from this place to find many. Thou must pardon this freedom of speech,’ he continued to the young man; ‘but I am an old soldier, and the Khan Sahib can tell you that I have fought beside him, and I have often known a young man ruined by indiscretions of which he was not aware.’

‘I thank you much for your speech,’ said Kasim, ‘and desire your friendship. Inshalla! we shall know each other well ere long.’

‘Inshalla!’ replied the other; ‘when the Khan Sahib is settled here for the night safely, if you will come to my tent, I will give you such information regarding this our service,—for I presume you have joined it,—as may be of use to you hereafter.’

‘Ay, go to him, Kasim,’ said the Khan; ‘Dilawur Ali is a Syud, a worthy man, and religious too,—in all respects fit for thy company. From him thou wilt learn many things which I could not tell thee, and which will not be lost upon thee.’

As they spoke, the palankeen of the Khan was seen approaching,—the bearers with some difficulty threading their way through the crowd. Kasim ran to meet it, and conduct it to the spot where the Khan was; and for the first time for many days, nay since the attack upon the village, he caught a glimpse of the fair inmate; for the doors were slightly open as it approached; and though, as a good Mussulman ought to do, he would have turned away his head from any other, yet he could not resist the opportunity of looking through the crevice; and he thought that, if perchance her eye should rest on his, a moment’s glance would satisfy him, and would assure him that he was not forgotten.

The bearers were about to make a wrong turn as they came up, and Kasim called loudly to them. Ameena heard his voice; and the temptation to steal a passing glance at him (who we must own had been more in her thoughts than her lord might have liked could he have seen them) caused her to withdraw from her face the end of her garment with which she had covered it for an instant, that she might see the better; she would not have done so perhaps, could she have guessed that he was looking for her. But as it happened, some obstruction in the way of the bearers obliged them to stop so close to him, that the palankeen brushed his person, and they could have spoken, so near were they. Their eyes met once more; his in admiration which he could not conceal, hers in confusion which impelled her instantly to cover her face, but not before she had seen that the scarf she had given him to bind up his wound still occupied a prominent place upon his breast. ‘He has not thrown it away,’ she said to herself. She little knew how he valued it.

Her palankeen was carried on through the door into the place we have described. The others had departed, and she was alone with her lord, who, bidding her his usual hearty and kind welcome, opened the doors wide, and displayed to her the view which had surprised and delighted the others previously; and she broke out into a burst of girlish admiration at a sight she so little expected when her palankeen entered the gloomy doorway.

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