Chapter 6

"I made no comment, but inwardly reflected that once more kind fate was working in my favour. Of course, with Sheikh Ahmed alive, there would be no need to use force for Baji Lal's rescue. But safeguarded on the way, we should be all the quicker in reaching our destination.

"It was toward noon on the fourth day from Punderpur--for there were now no inquiries to delay me--that we came in sight of the village of Sengali. It was just ten days then since the date of my departure in quest of the missing man. So my mind was at ease; according to the patel's promise, there remained yet four days of safety for Baji Lal and Devaka.

"But all at once fear smote my heart. There was a strange absence of people in the fields and on the outskirts of the village. Dreading I know not what, I begged of the Sheikh to press forward. Our escort was some distance behind us on the road, but, without waiting for the troopers, we set our tired horses to their best speed.

"Coming to the pipul tree and the tank, we found this usual place of congregation deserted. Now indeed was I thoroughly alarmed, likewise my companion, and of one accord, without waiting to visit the constable's compound, we turned our horses' heads in the direction of the home of Baji Lal.

"And there indeed we found a dense crowd, the hoarse murmur of their voices being borne to our ears before we turned the corner. The first thing that smote my eyes was a thin column of smoke mounting skyward.

"Sheikh Ahmed too had seen, for he whipped up his horse unmercifully. As he flashed past me, I was struck by the ashen grey that had stolen over his features. His face was drawn, his nostrils quivered from excitement.

"I could not but admire his eager determination. 'What gratitude! What unselfishness!' I thought to myself. 'Here is this man, rich and highly placed, ready to endure prolonged fatigues and hardships, to face any adventure, and all for the sake of a humble villager and his wife who did but nurse him when he was sick. Not often do we find such men, not often do we see the rich incommoding themselves for the poor.'

"Emulating his example, I urged my lagging beast to a final effort. In a brief minute we were on the outskirts of the crowd, where perforce we had to dismount. The Sheikh led the way as, afoot, we passed through the throng.

"When we got within clear view of the house, I saw that faggots had been placed all around it, and that these were already alight, giving forth the smoke we had seen from a distance. I looked about me in dread. Where were Baji Lal and Devaka? I questioned a man who was blocking my way. He turned round, and, to my joy, I recognized Bimjee, the barber. He gazed at me sadly, and, without expressing surprise at seeing me, pointed to the flat roof.

"There, beyond the low parapet, tied to a stake, was poor little Devaka. Her face was covered by her sari, and whether she were living or dead it was impossible to tell.

"'And her husband?' I asked, trembling. 'Not yet dead?'

"'No. But when the sun is at its highest point, which will be in a few minutes now, he will be dispatched with a sword and his body flung into the fire. See! they are already pouring oil on the faggots, so that the haunted house may be quickly consumed. It will soon be all over with our poor friends.'

"'Not so, not so,' I cried, 'for Sheikh Ahmed has come back. See, there he is, hastening to rescue his humble friends. He has not rested day or night since he heard of the disaster that had befallen them.'

"The crowd had parted before the Sheikh, and through the rift I now beheld Baji Lal, standing with his hands tied behind him at a little distance from his burning home. But to my surprise Sheikh Ahmed darted past him.

"'Ah!' exclaimed the barber, noticing my disconcerted look. 'He thinks that Devaka is in greater peril, and leaves you to rescue her husband.'

"I looked at the curling smoke, and shuddered. Assuredly there was no time to be lost if the woman was to be saved.

"'You are right, Bimjee,' I cried. 'We'll look after Baji Lal. Come along.'

"And I gained my friend's side none too soon, for already a sword was pointed at his breast. Leaping on the man who held it, I thrust the weapon aside.

"The patel, standing by, turned on me with a ferocious look.

"'How dare you hinder justice, Chunda Das?' he demanded. 'This is by decree of the panchayet.'

"'Your promise bound the village council as well as yourself,' I retorted. 'It is but ten days since I departed on my quest for Sheikh Ahmed, and you assured me faithfully that for two weeks at least nothing would be done to this man and his wife.'

"'More cattle have died,' he answered, sullenly.

"The crowd were pressing round us, with angry gestures and threatening looks, like wild beasts baulked of their prey.

"'Pull his beard,' 'Knock off his turban,' and such like impertinences were hurled at me. But, taking no heed of these, I again addressed the patel, raising my voice so that all around might hear.

"'You gave me fourteen days to find the stranger whom you say was murdered, and ahead of time I have returned and brought him with me. And Baji Lal, whom this very minute you were about to murder--aye, murder--is an innocent man, and his wife a maligned woman.'

"And such is human nature, that they who a short time before had been so keen to see Baji Lal done to death, were now loud in their acclamations at his escape.

"But the patel looked at me with lowering brow.

"'Fine words, Chunda Das, but I do not see the Sheikh?'

"The crowd hushed their outburst, and faces again looked serious.

"'Oh, yes,' cried some one. 'Let us see him. Where is Sheikh Ahmed?'

"'Where, indeed, but in the burning house, endeavouring to save your other victim?' I made answer, turning round and pointing with uplifted arm to Devaka, who now was standing with hands held out beseechingly to the throng, her face uncovered, full of entreaty.

"And even as we gazed the flames burst through the roof beneath her feet, and the clouds of smoke almost hid her from view.

"There was no sign of Sheikh Ahmed, and I was greatly perturbed. What had happened to him? Why did he not appear on the roof? From their countenances I could see that the spectators were still unconvinced of the presence of the man.

"Baji Lal up to this time had remained passive, his head bowed as if in helpless acknowledgement of the power of destiny. But at my call he cast his eyes upward with the others, and, beholding the form of his wife through the eddying smoke wreaths, he broke out in loud and passionate appeal.

"'Chunda Das, friends, neighbours, do not let her burn. She is innocent of any crime. Do not let her perish. Chunda Das, cut my bonds, that I may save her or die with her.'

"I was about to sever the thongs that confined his wrists and ankles, when the patel laid a detaining hand on my shoulder.

"'Not so fast, not so fast, if you please. We have not yet seen Sheikh Ahmed, and Baji Lal is still condemned to die.'

"I flashed an indignant look at the relentless man, but a cry of 'There he is, there he is,' broke from the mob. And, sure enough, through the clouds of smoke, could be seen the figure of the rescuer, crouching low as he cautiously crept along the roof, with a hand on the parapet to guide his movements. With bated breath we watched as he neared the fainting woman, and then, rising to his full height, tore at the rope which bound her to the stake.

"At last he had released her, and gathered her senseless form in his arms. But a billow of black smoke blotted out the grim scene. A moment of tense silence and sickening uncertainty. Then a great shout from the throng, a shout of pent-up joy and relief, when the hero with his burden came staggering out through the flame-framed doorway of the building.

"I rushed forward with the rest, and received Devaka in my arms. She had swooned. I gazed at her rescuer in admiration, his face blackened, his hair singed, his clothes torn. But could I believe my eyes? The brave man who had sunk to the ground in a heap was not Sheikh Ahmed, but Bimjee, the village barber!

"Hastily consigning Devaka to the care of women standing by, I hurried forward.

"'Sheikh Ahmed is in that house,' I cried, 'probably overpowered by the smoke. We must save him. Who will come with me?'

"All remained silent. Then some one called out:

"'It is no use, Chunda Das. It is impossible, the walls are falling.'

"But at that very instant the Sheikh appeared through the clouds of smoke rolling from the doorway. He tottered forward, bearing in his arms a large bundle wrapped in a cotton quilt. Outstretched hands caught him as he fell, and carried him away from the burning ruins, for the walls had now indeed collapsed.

"Neighbours vied with each other in offers of help. Baji Lal and Devaka were taken to one house. Sheikh Ahmed and myself went to another. The barber had recovered, and had quietly departed for his own home.

"Next day I sent round word that all the villagers were to come to the usual place of public gathering, the widespread pipul tree. No second bidding was required; the open space was soon crowded, right to the edge of the tank and to the wall of the temple.

"When all were assembled, with Sheikh Ahmed, Baji Lal and Devaka, also Bimjee the barber, standing by me, I faced the throng.

"'Good people,' I said, 'our worthy friends, Baji Lal and his wife, have been publicly disgraced. They are now to be publicly reinstated as honoured members of the community. Sheikh Ahmed will explain the sobbing and wailing that used to distress them just as much as it mystified you all, and eventually caused suspicion of an abominable crime. Listen to the story Sheikh Ahmed has to tell.'

"As I stepped back a pace, the Sheikh came forward. His handsome countenance beamed goodwill to all, and a murmur of friendly greeting bore testimony to his popularity. In soft, melodious voice, he addressed the eagerly expectant crowd.

"'I am indeed heartily grieved that through any fault of mine my kind host and his wife Devaka should have suffered so severely. I may now inform you that when I tarried in your midst some time ago, I was on my way to the court of Akbar on an important mission. I was, as you know, accompanied by a servant. I had in my possession a most valuable harp, encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. It had formerly belonged to the Maharanee of Kholtan, and had been looted from her palace during the last war. Our Emperor, the Padishah, had long been desirous of possessing it, for the fame of the instrument, its beauty and value, was widespread. By a fortunate chance I became acquainted with the man who was hiding it in the city of Poona. I promised, in the name of my lord and master, the mighty Akbar, a lac of rupees, and undertook to carry the instrument safely to the Emperor at Fathpur-Sikri. On account of its extreme value we decided to conceal it in a rough packing, and, with a view to avoid attracting attention, that I should be attended on the road by no more than one body servant, a man who had been long in my employment and in whom I placed implicit confidence.

"'Well, all went right until, just as we neared this village I fell sick--as I now believe, through the agency of my faithless attendant, who would have poisoned me so that he might possess himself of the precious harp. Fortunately I was succoured by our good friend, Baji Lal, and nursed back to health by him and his devoted wife Devaka. I had sent my servant on to Punderpur, there to await a summons when I again felt well enough to travel. But one night he returned of his own accord, bringing the news that the Padishah himself was approaching Punderpur, and now would be the time for me to complete my mission.

"'But there was something in the fellow's manner that awakened my distrust. At this time my suspicions were but vague, yet sufficient to prompt me to caution. Without discovering my inmost thoughts, I acquiesced in his proposal, and, disregarding the entreaties of my kind hosts, prepared to take the road without an hour's delay.

"'But first I had to dispose of the bejewelled harp in a place of safety, for I had made up my mind not to carry it any longer with me. At Punderpur it would be possible to get an escort of Akbar's cavalry, and then I could return with them for the treasure. So meanwhile I had to find some sure hiding-place, this in preference to burdening anyone here with my secret.

"'The walls of my room in Baji Lal's house were covered with a thick tent-cloth. While my servant was feeding the horses, I loosened one edge of this, and to my joy found the space between the inner and the outer covering sufficient to take the harp. I stripped off the bulky wrappings in which the harp had been carried up to this time, leaving only a swathing of fine silk. Then I carefully bestowed the instrument in its place of hiding, tying it securely to a beam high up toward the ceiling, and finally I restored the tent-cloth wall exactly as I had found it. Thereafter I stuffed a few billets of wood into the empty casing of the harp, and when my servant returned I bade him carry forth the package, and secure it across my saddle-bow, just as I had been wont to travel heretofore. Even though it was yet dark, we rode forth on our way.

"'Next day I noticed that my servant kept watching me in a furtive manner, and I congratulated myself on the precaution I had taken, and inwardly resolved to be more than ever on my guard not to be caught unawares. But, alas! I was still weak, and exhausted nature overcame vigilance, so that one night I slept soundly. I remember nothing of what took place. But when I came to myself some woodcutters were bathing my head. They said I had been beaten and wounded, and had bled profusely. I tried to stand up, but was seized with a great faintness, and would have fallen had not my succourers steadied me. With tender care I was carried to Punderpur, happily not far distant, where I was yet once again kindly bidden to the home of strangers.

"'A munshi named Khyraz was the name of my new benefactor. He was most wishful that I should hunt down my faithless servant, who, I need not say, after leaving me for dead, had disappeared with my horse and the package which was supposed to contain the precious harp. However, as I had still the instrument in safe keeping, and as I did not want the story of its being in my possession to get noised abroad, for this would have robbed me of the pleasure of surprising our King of Kings with the production of the coveted prize, I let the rascal go, for the time being at all events. But his day will come, the son of a pig who betrayed the master whose salt he had eaten for years. May the tombs of his ancestors be defiled!

"'Of course the news that had brought me to Punderpur was false. So far from Akbar being in the vicinity, I now learned that he had gone on a journey to Gwalior, and would not be back to Fathpur-Sikri for several months. Therefore, I took the opportunity of paying a business visit to Benares, resting content in my mind that the harp could be in no safer place than in its snug hiding at the home of Baji Lal, where no robbers would ever dream of prying.

"'However, I was just on the eve of retracing my steps to this village when Chunda Das came to Punderpur in quest of me. We met at the house of Munshi Khyraz, and there I learned of the disaster to my friends here, and the terrible doom that was contemplated for them. Imagine my dismay, too, when I discovered that their house was to be burned. My beautiful harp! It would be destroyed! So we hurried back, sparing neither ourselves nor our beasts.

"'When I saw the tongues of flame actually curling about the home of Baji Lal, I became oblivious of aught else save the rescue of the priceless harp from destruction. Through the blinding smoke I groped my way to my old sleeping room. I nearly succumbed three or four times before I managed to tear down the tent-cloth. Then, by the flicker of the flames I could see the harp reposing in its hiding place in all its gleaming beauty. I had no time to feel surprised that its silken covering had been blown aside, and indeed was at that very moment fluttering in a current of air.

"'Just as my hand reached forth to seize the precious instrument, I was startled by a subdued plaintive cry. For an instant I paused and wondered. Then I discovered that the wind was blowing through a crevice in the wall just behind the harp, and that it was the breeze rushing through the opening that was causing the strings to vibrate and give forth their weird complaining.

"'And this, good people, is the explanation of the unrestful spirit. When the wind blew strong, the cries were loud and insistent; when the blast came gently, the sobbing was low and wailing.

"'I am distressed that so simple a thing could have caused such trouble. But in reparation I will undertake to build for Baji Lal and his wife a new home. I hereby give to their good friend, Chunda Das, an undertaking to that effect'--he passed a paper to me as he spoke--'whereby I make myself liable for all moneys expended. And to Devaka I give this chain, which I hope she will always wear in remembrance of her good deed in nursing Sheikh Ahmed back to health.'

"And, throwing a long gold chain around the neck of Devaka, the Sheikh bowed to the company, and, with salaams of farewell, passed through the throng, toward his escort waiting for him all ready mounted at a little distance. Soon there was the clatter of hoofs, and they were riding away across the plain. I had noticed that at Sheikh Ahmed's saddle-bow was a bulky package, undoubtedly the precious harp in its wrappings.

"That was all there was to be said, and after a while the crowd began to disperse. On every hand there was loud acclaim for the Sheikh and his noble generosity, and Devaka's gold chain, which she now held timidly in her hand, was the object of many admiring glances, and drew for her general words of congratulation.

"At last all had gone their several ways, leaving Baji Lal and his wife, Bimjee and myself, alone beneath the pipul tree. A first look into each other's eyes showed that we were all of the same mind. In their excitement of the moment the unthinking throng had approved; but for us there was nothing but bitter disappointment.

"It was Baji Lal who first voiced his feelings.

"'Chunda Das,' he said slowly, 'Sheikh Ahmed has promised to recompense me for my losses; he has given a costly present to my wife. We want neither his gifts nor his promises. They are as dust to us. The little we did for him was not done for gold. Yet we took him into our home, and fought death for him, and won. He left a valuable treasure under our roof without consulting or trusting us. When this act of his brought disaster on our heads, it was no thought for Devaka or for me that brought him back in hot haste. It was the possible loss of the harp that occupied all his thoughts. When he came upon the scene, he saw me tied and ready for the word to die. On the roof he saw my wife with the flames already leaping to devour her. Yet not one finger did he put forth to save either her or me. He just rushed into the smoke-filled house, that he might secure the harp--an instrument of great price, let it be. But you, my dear friend, had ridden night and day to find the man whom our neighbours thought we had murdered. Our faithful friend Bimjee'--Baji Lal stretched out his hand to the barber--'defied fire and smoke to rescue a defenceless woman from an atrocious death. Neither of you had anything to gain by these deeds of bravery and self-sacrifice. You did them for pure love of us. What do we want with that selfish man's gifts? Chunda Das, give me the paper which binds him to his promise to restore my home, that I may tear it into fragments and scatter it to the winds. Devaka, my wife,'--and his voice fell to a tone of great gentleness--'hand the necklet to Chunda Das, that he may restore it to the giver.'

"Devaka, who, as I have said, had already removed the chain of gold from her neck, looked at it perhaps a little lingeringly, let it slip through her fingers caressingly, then with a sigh placed it in my hands and turned away. But her sigh, I knew, was less for the surrender of the gift than for the unworthiness that had prompted its bestowal.

"Her husband contemplated her compassionately. 'You have not many trinkets, little wife,' he said, 'but this one would not remind us so much of good deeds done as of base ingratitude. I have no home to take you to at present, but Bimjee wants us to stay with him until I can build you another.'

"He stretched forth his hand to Devaka, and, leading her away, departed. Bimjee, after a salute to me, followed his bidden guests at a little distance. For myself, I remained awhile to ponder all these happenings.

"To say that I was disappointed in Sheikh Ahmed would not adequately express my feelings. From the first I had been attracted to the man, by his handsome figure, distinguished bearing, and pleasant smile. During our intimacy of four days on the road I had admired the brilliancy of his conversation, and had taken great delight in his entertaining recitals of adventure in many far lands. From one like him I had certainly never expected this display of callous selfishness. But such is life. We have to keep ourselves prepared for many disillusionments. And, as I remarked at the outset of my narrative, an experience of this kind teaches that, if in judging our fellow men we are to be chary of condemnation, it behoves us also to be discreet in commendation."

And so ended the Bombay trader's story.

* * * * *

After an interval of silence, the voice of the Rajput chief spoke up:

"What became of Baji Lal and Devaka?"

"Oh," replied the merchant, "from that day their happiness returned and continued. For the villagers were ashamed to have doubted them, so all contributed to the building and furnishing of their home, and would take no denial. Good fortune seemed to settle on their roof-tree. Little Devaka is now the mother of a fine boy, and she wears a chain of gold around her neck, one given to her by the women of the village when they heard that she had scorned the proffered gift of Sheikh Ahmed, and understood the reason why."

"And the Sheikh and his wonderful harp?" questioned the Afghan soldier. "Did the costly toy reach its destination?"

"The harp is in the treasury of our Sovereign Akbar. Sheikh Ahmed started back for Poona with the lac of rupees he had promised in the name of the Padishah and half a lac more for his own recompense. But he and his company were attacked by a swarm of Mahrattas, and perished to a man."

"And the treacherous servant?"

"About him I know nothing. My tale is told."

V. THE BLUE DIAMONDS

TOLD BY THE FAKIR

"You have certainly improved on the moral of my story," said the astrologer, addressing the merchant, silent now after the telling of his tale. "If it is for God alone to pronounce the censure on mankind, then assuredly it is for God also to award the praise. As the story of Sheikh Ahmed and his jewelled harp well shows, deeds may be done openly by the hand, but the motives for their doing lie secretly in the heart. And the heart is the innermost temple where none but the high priest, the individual soul, holds communion with his God, the supreme Deity of the universe."

"So that a man's life is an unsolvable riddle to all but himself," concurred the hakeem.