Tales of Destiny
E >> Edmund Mitchell >> Tales of DestinyTALES OF DESTINY
By EDMUND MITCHELL
LONDON
CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1912
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY
EDMUND MITCHELL
CONTENTS
Introduction 1
Chap. I. The Maid of Jhalnagor. Told by the Rajput Chief 5
II. The Hollow Column. Told by the Tax-Collector 19
III. What the Stars ordained. Told by the Astrologer 35
IV. The Spirit Wail. Told by the Merchant 60
V. The Blue Diamonds. Told by the Fakir 101
VI. The Tiger of the Pathans. Told by the Afghan General 128
VII. Her Mother Love. Told by the Physician 146
VIII. The Sacred Pickaxe, Told by the Magistrate 170
TALES OF DESTINY
INTRODUCTION
Just without one of the massive bastioned gates of the city of
Fathpur-Sikri there stood in the year 1580 a caravanserai that afforded
accommodation for man and beast. Here would alight travellers drawn by
the calls of homage, by business, or by curiosity to the famous Town of
Victory, built, as the inscription over the gateway told, by "His
Majesty, King of Kings, Heaven of the Court, Shadow of God, Jalal-ad-din
Mohammed Akbar Padishah."
At the time of our story Akbar was at the zenith of his glory. He had
moved his court from Agra, the capital of his predecessors on the throne
of the Moguls, after having raised for himself, on the spot where the
birth of a son had been promised him by a hermit saint, this superb new
city of Fathpur-Sikri, seven miles in circumference, walled and guarded
by strong forts at its seven gateways. Emperor and nobles had vied with
each other in erecting palaces of stately design and exquisite finish of
adornment. A beautiful mosque commemorated the good deeds of the saint,
and provided a place of prayer for those of the Moslem faith. In the
palace of the Emperor was a magnificent audience hall, with marble
columns and stone-carved galleries, in the centre of which stood the
throne of gold sprinkled with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, surrounded
by a silver railing, and covered by a canopy of rich crimson brocade.
In this audience hall the great and good Akbar was wont to receive not
only his subjects, rich and poor, the former assembled to pay their
court, the latter to lay their grievances before the Imperial judge; but
he also extended welcome to strangers from afar. On the question of
religion his mind was at this period in a state of change, for he had
broken from the strict faith of the Moslem, had publicly announced that
there was good in all beliefs, had overthrown ceremonial rules, whether
of Islam or of Hinduism, and had proclaimed all things lawful except
excess. His thoughts thus drifting toward a new religion, a divine faith
that would bring into one fold the votaries of all religions, he was
glad at his court to give audience to learned doctors from distant lands
as well as from every part of India. All were welcome--Brahmins and
Buddhists, Moslem schoolmen, Hindu fanatics, pantheists, the worshippers
of fire, the Jews whose prophets are Abraham and Moses, even Christian
padres from far-off Europe. It was Akbar's delight to listen to their
expositions and discussions, and to the defence of their varied dogmas.
Thus did the fame of the king for tolerance, benevolence and wisdom
become noised abroad far and wide, so that visitors flocked in
ever-increasing numbers to the beautiful city. At our caravanserai
without the gate there would often, in the cool of an evening, be
gathered together on the shaded veranda a group of travellers
representing diverse races and classes. Some of the town-dwellers, too,
would be there, resting and refreshing themselves after their walk to
the city walls, while from the near-by camp of the Rajputs, who formed a
portion of the royal bodyguard, there would oftentimes stroll over a few
men-at-arms.
On such occasions it would generally happen that the debates recently
listened to in the Imperial Hall of Assembly would be subjected to
comment. And from discussion of this kind the conversation would quite
frequently change to story-telling, dear to the hearts of all natives of
Hindustan, and by no means to be despised, for in a good story there may
be implanted the kernel of a sound philosophy.
On a summer night in the year named eight men were assembled on the
veranda of the caravanserai. The full moon had just risen above a tope
of tamarind trees, and its silvern radiance revealed every detail of the
scene. A Rajput chief occupied the place of central prominence, cushions
arranged for his convenience, on one of which rested his scimitar, the
emblem of his soldierly profession. Not far from him, in a
half-reclining posture, was a general of the Afghans, also of the
bodyguard of the Emperor. A hakeem, or physician, and an astrologer,
both in the Moslem style of dress, were seated close together, legs
crossed beneath them; while a little apart were two Hindus, as the caste
marks on their foreheads showed, a tax-collector from the country and a
kotwal, or city magistrate. Just above the steps leading on to the
veranda, surrounded by his bales of merchandise, sat a merchant from
Bombay, a big and stalwart man, attired in spotless white raiment, on
his head a voluminous muslin turban. In striking contrast, squatting on
the ground below the steps, at his feet a wooden begging bowl, was a
fakir, or religious ascetic, a loin cloth his sole covering, his face
bedaubed with ashes, his lean chin resting on his upraised knees while
he listened to the dialogue and watched each speaker's face with eyes of
keen alertness.
There had been some desultory conversation, which finally resulted in
the Rajput chief being begged to relate in detail an experience at which
he had previously hinted. The first story led to another story, and the
third to yet another, and so on, until each member of the company had
contributed to the general entertainment. And these are the tales that
were told by the travellers on the veranda of the caravanserai outside
the walls of Fathpur-Sikri that moonlight night in the days of the
mighty Akbar:
I. THE MAID OF JHALNAGOR
TOLD BY THE RAJPUT CHIEF
Well, since you would have it so, listen to the story of Rukpur Singh,
hereditary chief of Jhalnagor, mansabdar of five hundred men, captain of
the bodyguard of Akbar the Great, King of Kings, Lord of the Earth.
"This day in the Hall of Assembly, in the presence of the great Padishah
himself, we have listened to the arguments of men of diverse faiths. It
is well. As Akbar, the Most High, himself has said, all religions are
good; each man has the god or gods of his fathers; let there be no
obstacle placed against worshipping the divine power in any manner that
seemeth fit. That is both wisdom and justice. That is why I, a Hindu, a
Rajput, one of the twice born, can serve my lord, the Moslem Emperor
Akbar, with loyalty of heart and of sword that no man may question."
At these words the captain of the bodyguard touched the jewelled hilt of
his scimitar lying on the cushion by his side. He glanced around, as if
to see whether anyone present dared to question the fidelity he had
professed. But there was neither movement nor remark among his
listeners, and with a disdainful little smile of self-complacency he
resumed.
"During to-day's discussion, in the spirit of tolerance that Akbar
teaches to all of us, we Rajputs have had to harken to severe
upbraiding. We are accused of inhumanity because in our homes a female
child may be done away with at birth, lawfully and without dishonour. Be
it so; the fact itself I shall not dispute. Nor shall I defend the
practice except to point out that a woman more or less in the world does
not matter, that the babe suffers no pain and knows no ill, that had she
lived it might have been to a life of widowhood--if courage were wanting
to choose the suttee--and therefore to long days of shame and sorrow.
"Furthermore, has it to be remembered that the marriage of one of our
daughters costs much money. According to the rules of our caste and the
customs of our race, the ceremony must be worthy of the parents and of
the position they occupy; all of the district must be feasted, and let
the expense be grievous as it may it must be borne. To some who are rich
the money thus spent is of no account. But to others who are poor yet
proud--and all Rajputs are proud--a wedding that is seemly for a
daughter of the house may mean poverty and ruin for the father and
brothers during twenty years to follow. In certain circumstances this
misfortune cannot be thought of. The honour of the race, the very safety
of a whole clan, may depend on rigid economy as a provision against
danger. So it may be both right and wise for an infant daughter to be
put painlessly to her death. Such was the doctrine my father taught me,
and his name is blessed."
The speaker dropped his eyes, folded his hands across his breast, and
for a full minute remained in silent meditation. When at last he looked
up again, there had come over the usually stern and haughty face a
wonderful glow of kindliness, and his voice took a softer modulation.
"However, know this, my friends, that in my zenana at Jhalnagor there
are little girls--three, and more will be welcome should the divine
Krishna send them. Three little daughters have I, all born of my wife
Lakmibai, the jewel of Jhalnagor. With sons also am I blessed--two brave
little boys, of whom I may well be proud. But I love them not more than
my daughters, nor would I change any one daughter for a son. This do I
say out of the truth of my heart, and in no wise because fortune has
been kind to me and mine, and has given us such prosperity that there is
a fit dower for each daughter without my treasury knowing the loss.
"So when the learned mullah from Stamboul denounced infanticide, I was
one with him in sympathy, for my inclination is to cherish with love and
care every female child the gods send.
"Now would you hear how a Rajput came to this manner of thinking? My
story is that of a little maid. Listen. It happened just five years gone
by.
* * * * *
"Under the firm and just rule of our master Akbar there has been peace
for many years in our part of the world. Except when, as now, I come to
Fathpur-Sikri for my yearly month of service in providing part of the
Emperor's bodyguard, I live quietly among my own people. The soil around
our villages is tilled, our shopkeepers buy and sell, we worship in our
temples, and we are happy, for no enemy comes to disturb the peace of
our beautiful little valley of Jhalnagor embosomed among the hills.
"One day it befell that I had gone on a hunting trip with a party of my
friends. In the early dawn we had descended from the fort on the hill
top which is my home and the rallying-place for my clan--a small clan,
numbering but a few thousands, but nobly born as any tribe in Rajputana,
brave and of honour unsullied, men who have never yet given a daughter
to the harem of a Moslem."
The features of the Rajput flashed with pride. His brother-at-arms, the
Afghan, met the defiant look, and said, with a quiet smile:
"There are many Rajput women wed to Moslem lords."
"Yes, but not Rajput women of Jhalnagor. They would have died
first--many of them did so prefer to die when the Moslem host first
swept over our land. In the hour of defeat, against overwhelming
numbers, within the citadel of Jhalnagor the women of my race, refusing
to accept dishonour, bared their bosoms to the spears of those they
loved, husbands, brothers, and fathers, and so they died."
With hands outstretched and eyes upraised in rapt pride and reverence
for the deeds of his ancestors, again the Rajput fell into momentary
silence.
"The story of the little maid." It was the voice of the physician
recalling the narrator to his task.
"Yes, the story of the little maid," resumed the Rajput. "As I have
said, we had gone to the hunt one morning--a party of twelve, riding on
three elephants. For we were in pursuit of a tiger, a destroyer of men,
which the villagers had marked down in a patch of jungle by the river
side. Of the hunt I need say nothing; we killed the tiger, and, with the
huge, striped body slung across the neck of my elephant, we were
returning home. It was toward evening, for we had rested in the forest
during the heat of the day.
"We were just entering the narrow gorge that leads to the fort on the
hill, when, right on the pathway before me, I saw the prone figure of a
child. Almost my elephant's feet were upon it before the sage brute
himself stopped and trumpeted a warning to us in the howdah, for, the
tiger's body occupying the place where the mahout was wont to ride, the
latter was walking, and he, too, had not noticed the tiny bundle of
bright yellow clothing lying on the road.
"Glancing down, I beheld a little girl with her forehead touching the
dust. At my calling she arose, and spread her hands across her breast.
"'Listen, O chief, to my warning, listen, O my lord,' she called out in
a shrill tone of supplication. Already had I observed that her face was
one of great beauty, although that of just a little child, but six or
seven years old.
"The other two elephants had halted behind mine, and some of the party
had descended. But at the approach of these men the maid shrank away,
and, keeping her eyes fixed in my direction, she continued to address
me:
"'Listen to my words, O chief, and be saved from death.'
"In another moment I had sprung to the ground. As I advanced the child
ran toward me, absolutely fearless. Taking her in my arms, I sat me down
by the roadside. Close to my breast she nestled, and, with sobs and
tears now, told me her story.
"A robber band was in the nullah--less than a mile further along--full a
hundred strong, fierce men and murderers. For they had already slain the
father and the mother of the little maid, humble woodcutters. I had
known them well; they were poor, but of mine own people, and instantly
in my heart I vowed that I would be avenged.
"The little girl, Brenda her name, as she told me in her childish way of
confidence, had hidden in the brushwood all day, trembling and afraid.
But at last she divined that the men had come to slay me, for as the
afternoon advanced they disposed themselves among bushes and behind
trees, also in the hut of her dead parents. And even now were the
assassins in waiting for me, for the girl had seen our party ride forth
in the early morning, and she knew that I had not yet returned.
"When, with wonderful intuition for a child so tender in years, the
thought came to her mind that I was to be assailed, she stole down the
gorge, moving cautiously through the undergrowth, and awaited at the
spot we found her to give me warning.
"The child had described to me the leader of the gang, and I had
immediately recognized Gunesh Tanti, accursed son of a pig, a robber
from across the desert of Sindh, who had more than once ravaged peaceful
villages of Rajputana. He would know that I had treasure in the fort,
and of an instant I could read his wily plan. Moving through the
country, he had doubtless heard a day or two before of this projected
expedition of mine for the killing of the man-eating tiger. So he had
designed to slay me on my homeward way, and, the deed accomplished,
would rely on gaining access to the citadel by loading his ruffians into
the howdahs of my elephants. Once over the drawbridge and within the
portcullised gateway, his murderous scheme might have been easy, for my
score of men-at-arms on duty would have been taken by surprise and so at
a disadvantage.
"But knowing now the danger, I laughed in my beard, for Gunesh Tanti,
this human tiger and slayer of innocent men, just as had been the tiger
now slung across the back of my elephant, was fairly delivered into my
hand. He who had come to trap me was himself entrapped. And thanks all
to this little maid of the glen! At the thought, I patted her soft cheek
with my hand, and in response she smiled up into my eyes with wondrous
trust and winsomeness.
"Our party, as I have said, numbered twelve, this without counting the
three mahouts, lithe and active men, and brave as any one of us. The
neck of the gorge was narrow, and for a hundred yards on either side
there were steep precipices down which rocks could be tumbled on fleeing
men. By a goat path over the hillside the fort could be reached by one
sure of foot and knowing the way. Such a lad was of our party, a cousin
of my own, who could race with the deer.
"In a few minutes he had girded his loins and was on his mission,
disappearing over the crest of the almost perpendicular crag up which he
had clambered. He was to warn the garrison, turn out every man and boy
fully armed, and bid them to sweep down on the ambushed robbers. The
mothers and the maidens would hold the fort. No other garrison, when
once on the alert, was needed for such an enemy."
Again the Rajput smiled proudly, but the silence of intent listening was
unbroken, and he continued:
"The firing of a matchlock was to be our signal that my men held the
upper end of the pass, and were descending on our enemies. Meanwhile, my
immediate followers prepared the rocks above the narrow neck of the
defile and got them ready for instant rolling down. To this last task
four of our number were deputed. The others abided with me. Our plan was
to block the narrow passage by ranging the elephants abreast of each
other, and, so that the animals themselves might not be stampeded by the
unexpected din of battle, we chained their forelegs, first each animal
separately, and then the middle one to his comrades on either side.
"At last all our preparations were completed, the huge beasts in line,
my companions mounted into the howdahs. I alone remained on foot, I and
the little woodcutters' daughter, standing by my side, holding
trustfully to my hand, and no longer weeping.
"'You must come with me, my almond-sweet,' I said, as I raised the child
in my arms, and passed her up into the howdah of my own elephant, the
central one. Then I myself clambered aloft. The tiger's corpse had been
flung to the ground, and our three mahouts sat in their proper places,
iron goads in hand, ready to perform their task of keeping the elephants
under control.
"At last, after a tense period of waiting, the welcome report of the
matchlock reverberated from among the hills.
"The fight does not really concern my story," said the Rajput, grimly.
"It is sufficient to say that Gunesh Tanti and all his band perished to
a man--some slain by the swords of my horsemen charging down the pass,
some crushed by the falling rocks, some of the last survivors, who flung
themselves desperately against our living barrier, dying on our
handpikes or being trampled under foot by the elephants. Not one of more
than five score men lived to carry back the tale of death to the robber
haunts whence they had come.
"On our side some lives were lost, seven in all; but this is the penalty
that brave men have to pay in the doing of righteous deeds. Their
memory is honoured.
"As for the little maid, I had nested her in the best-protected corner
of the howdah, and in the thick of the fray, when a shower of arrows had
fallen upon us, I had covered her tiny form with my shield. But during
the final hand-to-hand fight, when all was din and turmoil with the
shouting of the men and the angry trumpeting of the elephants, I had not
paid her any special heed. From her lips came no sound to attract my
attention--no cry of fear, nor wailing murmur.
"But at the end I looked for the little child, lifting the shield that
had partly guarded her. She met my gaze with a smile. But straightway I
noticed that an arrow, descending almost perpendicularly, had pierced
her soft little arm, and transfixed it to her side. Yet had she not
cried out, nor even now, when I was tending her, did she whimper.
"I drew forth the arrow, breaking it in twain, so as to let the shaft
pass through the arm. Although blood flowed freely, I saw at a glance
that the wound in the body was a mere puncture, and also that on the
limb only a piercing of the flesh. Therefore was her hurt not serious,
although of a certainty painful, and terrifying too for a child so
young. But even now not one word of complaining did she utter. She kept
her sweet smile on me. Brave little maid!
"Tearing a length of cambric from my turban, I had bound both arm and
tender breast, and readjusted the sari of yellow-dyed cotton that formed
her simple garment. And now she reposed, happy and contented, in my
arms. I remained in the howdah, while my companions cut off the heads of
the robbers, and loaded these trophies of victory on one of the other
elephants, so that a triumphal pile might be made in the courtyard of
the citadel. Then, with the tiger replaced on the neck of my own
elephant, we moved for home, a group of fifty horsemen now forming our
escort. The headless bodies of our enemies were left as fitting spoil
for the jackals and the vultures, the latter of whom, scenting the
carrion, were already beginning to drop down, it might seem, from the
blue vault of heaven.
"By the time we gained the fortress the dusk was gathering. Across the
drawbridge, promptly lowered at the sound of our joyful shouting, I saw
my wife standing beside the big carronade that commanded the roadway up
the hill. The smoking match was in her hand, but at sight of me she
stooped and smothered in the dust the spark that would have dealt out
death to the robbers had they ever gained a near approach. Descending
from my elephant, I greeted her and thanked her for the courage of
herself and all the other women, our loved ones.
"Then my friends above handed down gently into my arms the form of the
little maid. At sight of my wife's sweet and kindly countenance the eyes
of the child were lighted with joyousness. But with a quick motion wife
drew her veil completely over her features. Ere this was done, however,
I had caught a strange look in her face--a look of mingled surprise and
terror. At the same moment her old attendant and confidant, Rakaya,
flung herself at my feet, and began to babble for my forgiveness.
"'What means this?' I asked, glancing in profound amazement from the
woman's prostrate form up into my wife's eyes. There again I read the
strangely troubled expression. Puzzled, yet restraining my curiosity
before the others gathered around, I placed the wounded child in my
wife's arms, and, with a gesture to signify that she and Rakaya were to
follow, I led the way to the women's quarters.
"Once within the zenana, I told my story briefly: how the little damsel
of the glen had saved me from certain death, and then, through danger
and through pain, had been brave as the noblest-born Rajput maid could
be. After this recital, I commended the child to my wife's affections,
bidding her love the orphan as she would a daughter.
"Then was the lovely countenance of my wife, the jewel of Jhalnagor,
suffused with great joy. Hugging the child to her motherly bosom, she
exclaimed:
"'Oh, my lord, I have a confession to make, but now you will forgive me.
Do you remember our first-born babe?'
"My brow darkened. I felt the hot flush of shame on my cheeks. For our
first-born had been a girl, and I--disappointed and aggrieved, because I
was then strongly under the influence of my father's teachings, proud of
my family's position and wealth, and fearful to be impoverished in the
future--had given the word that the babe must die. This in spite of my
wife's pitiful tears and pleadings. And it was not the memory of the
deed itself that made me now ashamed, but the memory of those tears and
of how I had repelled her. Through the intervening years I had tried
never to think of this painful episode, and, with two little boys
playing at my knee, had well nigh forgotten the first child that had
come. Mention of the dead and buried past now made me resentful.
"'Why do you speak thus?' I asked, angrily.
"'Because, my lord,' exclaimed my wife, dropping on her knees at my
feet, yet with the little child still pressed to her breast, and drawing
me down to her with her free hand, so that we were all three close
together, 'because, oh, my lord, in our arms now this very moment is our
first-born, our daughter. We spared her, Rakaya and I; we bribed Runjit,
who is now dead, and to whom you gave the terrible orders, and Rakaya
smuggled the babe safe away to the cottage of the woodcutters. Since
then I have managed to see her sometimes by stealth, and have loved her;
but I have never dared to clothe her in any but humble garments--no
silks, no bangles, no jewels of any kind--lest suspicion should be
aroused.'
"'Oh, great master, forgive your humble slave,' moaned the old crone,
Rakaya, grovelling in a corner of the room.
"But to my wife only I paid heed. 'Can this be?' I murmured, surprised
and deeply moved.