Chapter 2

Then he carried out his intention. He called the boy Ahmed, and had him trained in the Mohammedan faith by the mullah of his village, who taught him to read the Koran (though, being in Arabic, he never understood a word of it). Ahmed wore a white turban, kept the Musalman fasts and feasts, and though he was at first very miserable, and wept often for the father he had lost, he gradually forgot his early life, and delighted his new father's heart as he grew up a straight, sturdy Pathan boy. Rahmut was wonderfully kind to him. His wives were at first jealous of the boy, and there were some in the village who never lost their first distrust and envy of him; but as years passed by, and Ahmed proved himself to be as bold and daring as he was sunny-tempered, as good at hunting and warlike exercises as he was in the ritual of religion, he became a favourite with most. The chief visited with heavy punishment some who dared to give expression to their resentment at his adoption of a Feringhi boy, and after that the ill-feeling died down, and if any remained it found an outlet only in murmurs which the envious ones were careful to keep from their chief's ears.

Ahmed was now sixteen. He was his adoptive father's constant companion at home; but the old chief, while he allowed the boy to take part in his hunting expeditions, would never permit him to share in the raids which he sometimes made on the villages of his neighbours, nor in the horse-stealing enterprises he ventured in the British lines. He seemed to be beset by a fear lest the boy should be snatched from him, and in particular he dreaded lest any contact with the British should awake dormant recollections in his mind and be the means of carrying him back to his own people. The only experience Ahmed had of contests with men had been gained in occasional attacks on caravans of merchants as they passed between Persia and Afghanistan. But now that the boy was sixteen, Rahmut thought it was high time, he should be married in accordance with the customs of his country, and was looking about for a suitable bride. The old chief argued that when Ahmed was married there would be less likelihood of his ever wishing to leave his tribe, and he might then be given a greater freedom and take a full share in all their activities.

Though Ahmed thus had few enemies in Shagpur itself, there was one in Minghal's village of Mandan who caused Rahmut Khan some anxiety. This was his nephew Dilasah, a man near forty years old. Dilasah had expected to succeed his uncle in the chiefship, but he was an idle, ill-conditioned fellow, not without a certain fierce bravery when roused, but little inclined to bestir himself without great cause, exceedingly fond of eating, and very fat. For him Rahmut had the deepest contempt. There was a stormy scene between uncle and nephew when the Feringhi boy was brought to the village and formally adopted by the old chief; Rahmut poured out his scorn upon Dilasah, and the latter withdrew in high wrath and indignation from the village and joined himself to Minghal's folk. Rahmut was at first glad to be rid of him, but as years passed, and Minghal, by cunning wiles and stealthy diplomacy, increased his influence in the country and drew more and more men into his tribe, the chief of Shagpur foresaw that one day he might have serious trouble with his rival, and that the succession of Ahmed would be disputed. But he hoped that he would live long enough to see the boy develop into a full-grown warrior, able to hold his own by force of arms if the need should arise.

If he had guessed that his absence on the horse-stealing expedition would be taken advantage of by his enemy, he would without doubt have remained at home. But he had heard that Minghal had gone westward to intercept a caravan of cloth merchants on the road to Kabul; it was a trick of Minghal's to draw the old man out of the way; and thus it happened that the village was so poorly defended when Minghal made his attack.

CHAPTER THE THIRD

Sky-high

Old Ahsan, the gate-keeper, looked gloomily out of the lattice window and watched the proceedings of the invaders. He had spied Dilasah, his master's nephew, among them, and knew that the incident was more than an ordinary raid. Minghal's men gave no sign of any intention to collect the villagers' property--whether in goods or in animals--and afterwards burn the village; it was clear that the chief meant either to seize the place as his own, or to set his henchman Dilasah at the head of it. And that Ahsan had rightly guessed was proved when Minghal himself came to the foot of the tower and summoned all within it to descend and salaam to their new lord Dilasah.

Ahmed drew the gate-keeper back and put his head out.

"What dost thou think of us, Minghal Khan?" he cried scornfully. "Are we asses or even as camels? Know that we hold this tower for our rightful lord Rahmut, and thou had best return to thy little dwelling while there is yet time."

The Pathan's face darkened with anger.

"Thou darest mock me, Feringhi dog!" he cried. "Come down at once, or we will burn thee alive and send thee to the Pit."

But Ahmed only laughed. Talk of burning was mere foolishness, for the tower was of stone, and though they might burn the door, there was nothing else inflammable within their reach, save only the barricade which had been thrown across the winding stair, and even a Pathan's courage might shrink from attacking that in face of sturdy defenders armed with jazails on the stairs. Of this barricade, however, Minghal was as yet unaware, and his reply to Ahmed's scornful laugh was to set his men to make an assault upon the door. But they had no sooner approached it than a matchlock flashed from a narrow slit in the wall, and one of the assailants staggered back with a bullet in his leg. Furious, Minghal shouted to the other men to do his bidding, but another shot fell among them as they crowded about the door, and since they could not see who had fired, nor had any chance of hitting if they shot back, they made haste to flee out of harm's way, and Minghal himself saw that the task he had set them was impossible. The door was of stout and massive timber, and could not be broken in without a deal of hard battering; it would be folly to lose lives in that way when his purpose might be achieved by means of a charge of gunpowder. So he called off his men and bade them search the village for powder, not having brought more with him than was contained in his men's powder-flasks.

At this Ahmed chuckled: all the powder lay in two large bags in one of the upper rooms of the tower, whither it had been conveyed at the first alarm. The men's hunt through the village was fruitless. But Ahsan sighed heavily a little later when he saw two leave the village and gallop at a hot pace in the direction of Mandan.

"Minghal has sent for powder, Ahmed-ji," he said. "Without doubt we shall all be blown up."

"No, no; they cannot get back before morning," replied Ahmed, "and every day favours us. Maybe my father will come back earlier than we suppose."

"And if he does not?"

"Why, then we must defend ourselves as long as we can. Suppose they bring powder: they cannot lay a charge against the door in the daytime, for we could fire into them and blow them up with their own stuff. And when night comes, the moon will light up the inner wall for some hours, so that they would still be in great danger. And if, when the moon goes to the other side, they contrive to place their charge and blow in the door, it will only be to find us with our jazails at the barricade, and they will never get beyond it."

Ahmed's cheerfulness inspirited the old gate-keeper and the rest of the garrison. The women and girls had been conveyed to the upper chambers, and Ahmed at the fall of night went up to them and did what he could to reassure them. Once or twice during the night, after the moon had gone down, there were sounds from below indicating that another attempt was to be made on the door; but a shot from the window was sufficient to send the men scuttering back to the houses, and the hours from midnight to dawn passed undisturbed. The garrison snatched a little sleep, and were roused by the morning cry of the mullah in the village mosque calling to the faithful to awake: "Prayer is more than sleep!"

It was afternoon when the two men who had left the village were seen returning with three others, their horses loaded with bags, which no doubt contained gunpowder. They were received with shouts of "Wah! wah!" from their comrades as they entered the gate. Ahmed, watching them with Ahsan and others, saw them convey the powder to a lean-to beside the gate-keeper's hut against the wall. There was great cheerfulness among Minghal's men, who had idled away the day in gambling. Early in the morning Ahmed had seen three of them leave the village in the opposite direction from Mandan; and going to the top of the tower, he watched them ride for some two miles until they reached a hillock whose summit rose a little higher than the tower roof. There they dismounted and led their horses into a thin copse. They did not reappear, and Ahmed guessed that they had been sent there as an outpost to guard against any surprise from the sudden return of Rahmut Khan. It was clear that Minghal was resolved to carry through his design to the uttermost.

Confident as he was in appearance, Ahmed in reality felt no little anxiety. The quantity of powder brought into the village by Minghal's messengers was large enough not merely to blow in the door and the barricade, but even to make a breach in the tower wall. He knew very well that if the enemy once forced their way into the tower the case was hopeless; for the men he had with him were all well on in years, and with the fatalism of their race they would regard the first success of the enemy as a clear sign of Heaven's favour. It seemed to him imperative that Minghal should be by some means prevented from succeeding in any part of his purpose, and as the afternoon wore on he took counsel with Ahsan, telling him frankly of his anxieties.

"What you say is true," said the old man; "but how is it possible to do anything? They have the powder--may their graves be defiled!--and when it is dark we shall not be able to see to take aim at them as they bring it to the door."

"If we had but one friend in the village! The cowards! And they are fools as well, to desert a chief like my father for one like Minghal Khan. Were there one brave man having any wits among them, he would blow up that powder, and our trouble would be gone."

Ahsan could only sigh and wish that the chief had not gone horse-raiding.

"He is too old for such deeds. 'Tis time he rested and made ready to obey the last call. Hai! and some day, if he continues thus, he will fall into a snare--some calamity will light on him. It may be with him even as it was with Mir Ismail of Bangash."

"Why, how was it with him?"

"He had gone on just such an errand, and he was old, like our master Rahmut. He had cut a hole in the stable of the Malik he had gone to rob, and was in the very act of loosening the horse's halter when he was disturbed by a noise. Loh! he made haste to escape by the hole he himself had made, but being old and stiff, he had but got his head and shoulders out when his legs were caught from behind. Hai! hai! and then was he in desperate fear lest he should be dragged back and known by his captors, for he was a famous stealer of horses, and it would have snapped his heart-strings if they saw him and gloated over his capture. The honour of his family and people would be smirched. Wherefore he cried aloud to his son, who waited outside, bidding him cut off his head rather than let that shame fall upon him. His head being gone, they would not recognize his trunk."

"And did his son obey him?" asked Ahmed.

"He did, and so was the honour of his house saved," replied the old man.

Ahmed was silent for a minute or two; then he said--

"Ahsan, think you I could cut a hole in that shed where the powder-bags are laid?"

"Hai! How wouldest thou get there?" said the gate-keeper. "Verily not by the door; were it opened, Minghal's dogs would burst in."

"True, but could you not let me down over the wall by a rope?"

"And what then? The gates are shut: there is no entrance."

"But I know of a place on the other side of the village where there are notches in the wall, by which I might mount; and, the wall scaled, I could steal my way to the shed and maybe cut a hole and lay a train, and so fire the powder that lies there for our destruction."

"You could never get over the wall unspied," said the old man; "and if they catch you, you are dead."

"But the place where I can scale the wall will be in darkness when the moon shines on the tower. If it is to be done it must be done before the moon has crept round, for as soon as the tower door is in darkness be sure they will set about their purpose."

Ahmed was deaf to all entreaties, and about an hour before the earliest moment when the besiegers might be expected to begin their operations, he was let down by a rope from a window overlooking the wall, this side being in deep shadow. Having reached the ground, he stole along at the foot of the wall until he came to a spot some little distance away where he believed the notches to be. They had not been made intentionally, but were due to the crumbling of the clay of which the wall was made, and had not been filled up. He found them without difficulty, the outer side of the wall being at this point partially illuminated, while the inner side, in the shadow of the houses, was dark. Pausing a moment to make sure that all was quiet within, he set his bare foot in the lowest notch, and, aiding himself with his hands, heaved himself slowly up.

When his head was just below the top of the wall, he waited again, listening intently for sounds of movement or speech within the village. All was quiet in the immediate neighbourhood, though voices came faintly to his ear from the direction of the tower. He raised his head and peered over: nothing was to be seen; then with a final heave he rolled himself over the top, hung by his hands for a moment or two until his feet found a hollow to rest in, and then as quickly as might be made the descent, dropping the last six feet and alighting noiselessly on his bare soles.

A narrow lane ran between the wall and a large barn in which the villagers' grain was stored. Beyond this was the smithy, the potter's house, and one or two more small buildings, so that he could come, with fair security, to within a few feet of the shed where the powder lay. These last few feet of space were not screened, and in crossing them his risk would be greatest. Having come to the edge of it, he passed round the corner of the building, and saw to his joy that the enemy was hid from his view by the projecting shed itself. He stole along by the wall, gained the side of the shed, and without an instant's delay set to work with a chisel he had brought with him to loosen one of the planks in the wooden side, working with all possible silence. Once the light sound of a footstep caused him to scurry back to the shadowed lane; but the disturber, whoever he was, passed in another direction, and Ahmed sped back to finish his work.

Having removed the plank, he squeezed through into the shed without much difficulty, being slim, and groping about soon laid hands on one of the powder-bags. In this he cut a hole, then laid a train of powder to the opening in the shed wall, lighted the slow match Ahsan had furnished, and, breathing hard, ran like a deer back along the lane. At first he could not find the spot where he had descended the wall, and feared lest the explosion should occur before he had regained the tower. But discovering the place at length, he swarmed up, and now in his haste ventured to drop the full height of the wall. He fell on his face, rose in an instant, and scampered back to where the rope still dangled from the window. He had but just laid hands on it when there was a deafening explosion, followed by a great outcry from the men. When he regained the top of the tower, he ran with Ahsan and others to a window whence he could look down upon the scene. The shed was in flames; and he was surprised to see two or three forms prone on the ground near it. One of the men who had been keeping watch told him that several of the enemy had come to the door of the shed, no doubt to bring out the powder, at the moment when the explosion took place, and had been hurled to the ground by the flying timbers.

Minghal and Dilasah were raging up and down among their men. They looked on helplessly while the shed burnt, Minghal crying out that there was a traitor in the village. The street and the open space in front of the tower were crowded with people who had been startled from sleep by the uproar, and Minghal in his fury sent his men among them, to slash and slay. The poor villagers fled away and hid themselves, Ahsan declaring that they deserved no pity, because they had deserted their rightful master for the invader.

There was much rejoicing in the tower at the success of Ahmed's bold enterprise. Even the most faint-hearted now took courage. But it was clear that the enemy had no intention of departing. The failure of their scheme had made them only the more vindictive. Minghal sent some of his men for more powder; the rest, keeping well out of gunshot, squatted against the walls of the houses, ready to prevent any egress from the tower. It was plain that Minghal meant to make another attempt, and if he failed to gain entrance, to starve the defenders out.

Ahmed did not fear the first, but was greatly troubled at the prospect of a prolonged siege. In the few minutes' grace between his arrival in the village and the coming of the enemy there had not been time to convey a large supply of food and water into the tower. The water was already running short, and it was necessary to put the inmates on a scanty allowance. With great economy they might make it last for two or three days; then, unless help came, there would be no choice but to surrender, or to make an attempt to escape at night by means of the rope. Minghal as yet, clearly, had no suspicion that the powder had been fired by any one from the tower. It might be easy for the men and boys to let themselves down as Ahmed had done, but it would not be so easy for the women and girls to descend in the same way, and the least sound would bring the enemy upon them. From the top of the tower during that day Ahmed cast many an anxious glance in the direction whence his father might be expected to return; but there was no sign of him, and indeed, but for some mischance in his expedition, it was hardly likely that he would be back for several days.

In the afternoon Minghal's messengers returned with another supply of powder. As ill-luck would have it, with the fall of night a thick mist came down upon the village, obscuring the moon; and under cover of the darkness the men brought powder to the tower door and fired it. The door, massive as it was, was blown to splinters, and with yells of triumph the assailants rushed in when the smoke had cleared, confident that they were on the point of mastery. But the defenders had had ample time to prepare for them, and when, ignorant of the barricade, they began to rush up the winding stairs, Dilasah being at their head, they were met with a sharp fusillade, which struck down several of them and sent the rest scuttling away with yells of alarm. Dilasah himself was among those who were wounded, and Ahmed from his conning post above could dimly see his rival being carried away by two of the men.

This set-back, while it eased Ahmed's position for the moment, had the effect of making the enemy still more determined. Hitherto the most part of the men had not been greatly interested in the business. The quarrel was a personal one of their chief's; for themselves they would have been satisfied with plundering the village and returning to their own place. Even though Minghal inflamed their racial and religious prejudices against Ahmed as one of the hated Feringhis, they saw little to gain by capturing or killing him. But now that they had themselves suffered, their warlike instincts and their passion for revenge were aroused; and, moreover, they were nettled by their failure, considering that they outnumbered the defenders by at least ten to one.

The night passed quietly, but evidence of their new spirit was shown next day. Ahmed, looking from his window, saw signs of great activity below, though for a time neither he nor Ahsan nor any other of his comrades understood what was afoot. By and by, however, it became clear that the enemy were busily constructing shields of wood and goat-skins with which to defend themselves against musket-shots from beyond the barricade. The work was apparently finished by midday, for the men squatted in groups on the ground, taking their dinner, and talking with great cheerfulness. But when the hours of the afternoon went by without the expected attack, Ahmed concluded that it was put off till night, and felt that this time it would be pushed home. Defended by their shields, the men could easily bring powder to the base of the barricade, and if that was blown away it was only a question of minutes. It was useless to attempt to disguise from his comrades the great danger in which they stood, especially as they were now reduced to their last pitchers of water.

Now Ahsan made a proposal.

"'Tis time for you to leave us, Ahmed-ji," he said. "Minghal, that son of a dog, is bent on seizing you. It matters little about the rest of us, but you are the apple of the master's eye, and if you are safe, 'tis of little moment what happens to us. We shall become Minghal's men; we shall at least be saved alive. Do you, then, escape by the rope when darkness falls, and run to the hills, where you may hide until the master returns; and when you are gone, after a time we will deliver ourselves up to Minghal."

This suggestion was applauded by the other men. They had in truth little to gain by further resistance. If their lives were spared they would only pass into the service of another chief, and since Minghal's star seemed to be in the ascendant, that was a fate which all expected sooner or later to befall them. But Ahmed was very unwilling thus to throw up the sponge. Apart from his disinclination to desert his post, he knew how his father would be cut to the heart at the triumph of his rival, and felt that he himself would be for ever disgraced if this calamity should come upon the old chief during his absence. Yet he felt the impossibility of holding out much longer, and was troubled at the thought that all those with him might be killed if he did not yield.

"I will go apart and think over what you have said," he said to the man, "and I will come again and tell you my thoughts."

He went to the top of the tower, and leaning over the parapet began to ponder the difficult situation in which he found himself. And as he was sadly thinking that there was no other course than to surrender (for to run away and leave his comrades was abhorrent to him), his eye was suddenly caught by a small dark patch moving on the hillside far away towards the British frontier. The sun was behind him, the air was clear, and, gazing at what had attracted his notice, he was not long in coming to the conclusion that the dark shadow on the hill was a body of horsemen.