Chapter VII

_HOW AHMAD KEPT HIS OATH_

Ahmad returned alone to the Rani's palace. To avert all suspicion of his conduct, he dismissed his Afghans to the cantonments on approaching the city. With the plea of furthering Prasad's interest, he had advised the Hindu noble to absent himself when the report of their expedition was made. It would be difficult, he explained, to properly advocate the claim of another, if the person chiefly concerned were present.

Prasad clearly perceived the force of the Mohammedan's suggestion. He relied implicitly upon the other's good faith, and readily acquiesced.

"Make my best _salaams_ to the divine Rani," he enjoined Ahmad on parting, "and say that I will come to her side as soon as I have changed my attire for garments more suitable to the presence of a queen."

Ahmad vowed that he would leave no compliment unsaid on Prasad's behalf.

"In truth," he reflected, as he proceeded on his way, "I may be wrong, but this Rani of ours seems rather to prefer the smell of powder to the most delicate perfume of Teheran. I fancy the courtier finds less favor in her eyes than the man-at-arms. Ah what a treasure! What an _houri_. She must, by the God of Islam, she shall be mine, if I am compelled to play a hundred different parts in turn."

As Ahmad dismounted, the beggar who had petitioned everyone entering the palace that morning, ceased his cry for alms. He crouched further into his corner as instinct told him it was the fierce Mohammedan at hand--one whose boast was that he neither feared nor pitied any human being.

Ahmad remarked the beggar's action.

"Thou poor wretch," said he in a voice into which he threw as much compassion as he could assume. "Art dumb now as well as blind."?

Surprise was depicted on the face of the beggar, who had learned by past experience to expect a curse if he ventured to address Ahmad Khan.

"Noble Lord," he faltered. "Is it truly the voice of the great Ahmad that I hear"?

"Whose voice else"? demanded the Mohammedan in return.

The beggar shrugged his shoulders.

"Lord I know not," he answered.

Ahmad cast a small coin at the beggar's feet, and ascended the palace steps.

On the porch Bipin had been an interested spectator of the scene.

"Blessed Devi," he reflected. "What next will happen? Perchance we shall behold Ahmad Khan robed as a _Mollah_ calling his people to prayer, from the balcony of a minaret. Everyone seems to be what he is not. To think that the well-looking Prasad should possess so villainous a heart, and the black Mohammedan display compassion for the unfortunate."

Bipin was still in a most unhappy frame of mind. That morning another circumstance had occurred fraught with ill-omen. A white cat bereft of one eye had persistently endeavored to sharpen its talons in his legs. To fathom the significance of the beast's actions, Bipin had promptly repaired to his friend the astrologer, who for a monetary consideration, had assured his client that they betokened the swift unfolding of Prasad's design. As a consequence, Bipin had armed himself with an ancient and rusty flint lock pistol, the massive butt of which protruded from his waistband.

The weapon at once attracted Ahmad's notice.

"What," he cried with gruff humor. "What do I behold? The worthy Bipin Dat, the man of peace, armed for mortal combat."

"Illustrious Lord," returned Bipin gravely. "When every man goeth armed, he is a fool who doth not follow the prevailing fashion."

"True, O Secretary," returned Ahmad, laying a familiar though heavy hand upon the other's shoulder. "Come, I like thee all the better for thy display of spirit. Soon thou wilt be wielding a sword with the best Afghan in my troop."

"And why should I not," rejoined Bipin. "One need not be born in a fortress to make a good fighter."

Ahmad threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Bipin," he replied, "I am inclined to think thou hast mistaken thy calling. Thou shouldst have been a soldier. Come! I will beg a commission for thee from Her Highness, so that thou mayest win the title, _Singh_."

"Not so fast, good sir," replied Bipin. "In dangerous times arms are well enough for protection, but he who makes a profession of exchanging blows receives too many for my liking."

Ahmad laughed again. "Well! well! Bipin," he exclaimed. "I make no doubt when the moment comes thou wilt acquit thyself with the best of us. But in the meantime I would see the Heaven endowed Rani."

Bipin turned, and beckoned Ahmad to follow. He led the way into the palace.

The Rani had feared that in spite of the solemn injunction she had laid upon Ahmad, his uncontrolled nature might have led him into some overt act against Sadescheo. She was relieved, early in the report, to learn, that he had managed to enforce her authority upon the Maharaja without igniting a racial conflagration within her territory.

"Ahmad," she cried with a display of satisfaction. "Thou hast done well indeed. How can I reward thy services sufficiently"?

"Noble Rani," he answered. "Thy approval of my actions is all the recompense I ask."

A momentary expression of added relief crossed the Rani's face.

She was afraid he might demand that which his soldierly qualities entitled him to claim, but which she still hesitated to give.

"If all others were only like thee," she returned, "how much easier would be my lot, how much more secure would be our position."

"Fair Lady," resumed Ahmad. "My position is uncertain, for I know not how soon I may be called away to sharpen the blunted teeth of Bahadur Shah's overfed soldiers. Wrangling among themselves over the plunder that has fallen into their hands at Delhi, they will scatter to the jungle like a band of jackals at the voice of the Foreign hunter. But if Ahmad Khan might presume to offer the great Rani some advice in certain matters, he would consider himself well repaid for any service he has rendered."

"Gladly will I hear thee, friend Ahmad," acquiesced the Rani.

"Principally is it," continued Ahmad, "in reference to the offices thou wilt doubtless make in _Darbar_ to-morrow. Above all things it would be advisable to appoint a commander of the troops, to whom both thy Hindu and Mohammedan subjects will look with respect and confidence. If thou hast determined this already, then will the voice of thy humble servant remain silent."

"No Ahmad," returned the Rani thoughtfully. "I have not done so as yet. That matter troubles me more than all else. There are so many worthy aspirants that it is difficult to select the one who would suit the office best. Willingly will I listen to thy advice."

"Then, noble Rani," Ahmad proceeded, "Taking into account the conflicting aspects of the question, the man to be chosen must possess more than one qualification. Courage and daring must first of all be his birthright, but equally important is a knowledge of military strategy--none the less valuable if intuitive rather than acquired by experience, and in which rapidity of action must be the outward manifestation of an alert mind. To these must be added firmness of character to enforce discipline even to the point of seeming cruelty, holding human life in his own person and in that of others as of no account when necessary, yet not unmindful of the needs of his soldiers whose affection he will thereby gain in return. If, further, he should possess youth and a gallant bearing it will be to his advantage, for the trooper is ever the more eager to follow a captain of distinguished presence. If he possesses these qualities, noble Rani, even though thy selection were to fall upon a comparative stranger to the state, be assured thou wouldst act most wisely. Such a one I dare to have in mind."

Unconsciously Ahmad had faithfully portrayed the character as yet undisplayed of the girl before whom he stood.

In the pause which ensued it was evident the Rani was mentally reviewing the faces of those known to her who would be most likely to coincide with Ahmad's description.

"Ah"! she exclaimed at last. "Dost thou refer to Prasad Singh"?

A look of slight astonishment broke upon Ahmad's face.

"Prasad Singh"! he ejaculated. "Noble Lady," he protested, "for aught I know to the contrary Prasad Singh _may_ possess all these qualities and more. Untried in any important affair, he _may_ prove to be a great captain, though in our little ride to Shahpur, but for the banter of his rough companion, I think he would more than once have turned back. But Prasad surely is a good comrade and a handsome fellow, even if his name doth not hover on my lips."

"Whose name dost thou have in mind, then"? asked the Rani somewhat perplexed.

"It is the young officer Dost Ali, noble Lady," replied Ahmad confidentially. "Thou wilt have heard his father was a Maratha who was driven into exile by the Foreigners, and dying left his young son to the protection of the illustrious Dost Mohammed. Brought up by such a leader, he has well learned the trade of arms. By birth a Hindu and a Mohammedan by adoption, both factions in the state might well unite to serve under him. Moreover, such action on thy part would surely please the great Amir of Afghanistan, some of whose troopers are now a part of thy forces, and whose doubtful attitude toward the Foreigners might thereby be determined in support of India's cause."

The Rani turned from Ahmad and gazed out of a window pensively. There was forming quickly in her mind an ulterior object that might be promoted by following Ahmad's suggestion. Among her older officers there was a marked disposition to regard her opinion in military affairs lightly, as that of a mere girl whose judgment in such matters could be of no value. A younger man, susceptible to her personal charm, would, she thought, be more likely to follow, unhesitatingly, the dictates of her will.

"Thou hast observed the young officer of whom I speak, my Rani"? Ahmad asked with a shade of anxiety in his voice, as he waited on her answer.

"Truly I have," she answered. "I have remarked him well several times. I like his manner and appearance. There is much discernment in what thou sayest. For a space I will think over it, and to-morrow make known my decision."

Ahmad _salaamed_ low and withdrew from her presence.

So far, he was satisfied with the favorable view the Rani seemed to take of his covert plan of installing a _protégé_ of his own in one of the most important offices of the government, and the deeper project of eventually destroying his rival by that means.

The Rani proceeded to an inner court, and called her chief waiting woman to her side.

"Rati," she began. "I am curious to know what other women--the ladies of the _zananas_--think of me. Tell me, O Rati, thou who learnest such things, what is the opinion in such places of Lachmi Bai"?

The girl looked nonplussed.

"Speak truly," enjoined the Rani. "Flattery enough I can have for the wish."

The girl's uneasiness increased visibly.

"Noble Rani. They say. They say"--she hesitated.

"Yes, what do they say"? the Rani demanded impatiently.

"That thou art well gifted, O noble one," the girl replied evasively.

The Rani turned a look of displeasure upon the girl. "I did not ask for that," she spoke authoritatively. "Tell me what else do they say of me"?

"Some affirm that thou art as beautiful as the opening lotus, but others"--

The girl broke off timidly.

"Others," concluded the Rani with a smile. "Others are afraid for their sweethearts, aye Rati"?

"Perchance, noble Lady," acquiesced the girl.

The Rani's humor displayed itself in a silvery laugh that was echoed by the walls of the court.

"Rati," she commanded, "what more do they say"?

"O great one," petitioned the girl, "urge me not in this manner, lest thou become offended."

"Offended surely will I become unless thou doest as I bid thee."

The girl paused a moment, then proceeded fearfully.

"They say, O Rani, that thou art vain of thy beauty, and forgettest thy modesty as a Hindu woman by so openly consorting with soldiers and gallants."

"Say they so," the Rani cried passionately, stung to the quick by the implication.

The girl fell at the Rani's feet and implored her not to visit punishment upon an unwilling offender's head.

"Pardon, O Queen. Thou didst force me," she besought fervently.

"I am not angry with thee, poor girl," the Rani replied in a softened tone. "But while my actions are seen by all, to what do many of these _zanana_ beauties stoop? The shutters of their windows can best tell. I will show them, these women of such fine sensibilities, how the Rani, for all her pride, observes a custom too much falling into disuse among the rich and great. I have heard that my honored _guru_[3] cometh to aid me with advice, that he even now approaches Jhansi. Go, therefore, order my bearers, so that I may go forth to receive him with all the respect due his office."

The girl rose, and departed to obey the Rani's behest.

The Rani raised a hand wearily to her forehead.

"So much discussion to appease," she murmured, "so much jealousy and envy among those who should assist, rather than thwart the only one who dared to do what has been accomplished. Love! Ah, only it seems do the poor and afflicted truly love the Rani. Even Prasad, who vows by all things sacred that my image beatifies his sleep, hath ever a favor uppermost in mind."

Presently a state _duli_[4] with curtains to screen the occupant from view, was carried to the entrance of the palace.

To the surprise of her servants the Rani came forth without her _burkha_, or long mantle, invariably worn by native ladies of rank to conceal the whole person in public.

She promptly ordered the curtains of the _duli_ to be removed.

For a moment her servants hesitated to comply. Never before did they recollect such an order to have been given.

"What," she cried. "Dost thou not hear my command? Take those hangings away. I am not a Mohammedan, but a Hindu Rani in my own right. Of old time our princesses were not afraid to show their faces to the people. It is my pleasure that they shall know well the features of Lachmi Bai."

The curtains were hurriedly removed. The Rani entered her chair, and surrounded by her servants was borne in the direction of the city gate, through which it was expected her _guru_ would enter.

At the head of the procession, the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, marched with pompous dignity. Against all contingencies, he had prudently further armed himself with a long sword, that trailed in the dust at his side, and made him an awe inspiring object to the beggars that chanced in his way.

As the procession passed through the streets, the people saluted the Rani with terms of affection. Many turned to catch a glimpse of her face.

"See," they cried. "The Rani of Jhansi fears not the gaze of our eyes."

It had gone little more than half the distance to the gate, when it was met by a bullock cart in which rode an old man of venerable aspect.

The Rani seemed to instantly recognize his features. She commanded her bearers to halt.

"It is my dear _Guru_," she cried. "Ah, how glad I am to see him."

On his part the old man recognized the rich liveries of the servants as those of his godchild, the Rani. With an effort he dismounted from his cart and would have prostrated himself before her, had she not anticipated his action.

She alighted quickly and knelt at his feet. She embraced them affectionately, and cried in a voice which all might hear:

"O _Guru_, live forever. Grant a blessing to thy godchild, Lachmi Bai."

For a moment the old man's face reflected the astonishment of the crowd that had gathered. That she should thus humble herself in public was certainly a surprising act. But its significance was not lost upon the people, who, as the old man raised her in his arms tenderly, called down a thousand blessings on her head.

The first greetings over, the _Guru_ was about to again climb into his rickety vehicle, when the Rani interposed. She insisted that he take her place in the _duli_.

At first, the old man demurred at so great an honor being accorded him. But the Rani was persistent.

"Before, I have ever met thee, dear _Guru_," she cried, "as but a poor captive in Jhansi. Now that I am the Rani, I desire my people shall see I am not unmindful of the ancient customs of our race."

Thus she followed on foot behind her _Guru's_ chair, as the procession returned to the palace.