25. Tent-walls.
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.
CHAPTER XIII.
Madar waited for a while, until he saw that the Khan’s servants had arrived; when, taking his silver stick of office with him, he sought their little separate encampment, which, busy as it had seemed elsewhere, was now swallowed up in the mass that occupied the space around them. He lurked about the busy and tired men for some time, not hazarding a remark to any one, lest he should meet with a sharp repulse, which indeed was to be expected; seeing that after a long march, men who must provide and cook their dinners, have much more to do than to hold conversations with prying inquirers.
At last, seeing Daood, the Khan’s attendant, busy preparing his master’s hooka, he advanced towards him, and seated himself upon his hams close to him.
‘Salaam Aliekoom, brother!’ said he.
‘Salaam!’ was the only reply Daood chose to give.
‘Mashalla! the Khan has returned in good health.’
‘Shookr Khoda! he has.’
‘Inshalla! he will long continue so.’
‘Inshalla!’
‘And so he has married a young wife! Well, the Khan is a powerful man—a youth, yet.’
‘Inshalla, brother!’ and Daood continued his employment most assiduously, humming a popular tune.
‘The brother of the Khanum is a fine-looking youth—may his prosperity increase!’
Daood looked at the speaker with no amicable eyes. ‘Who, in the name of the Sheitan, art thou, O unlucky man? How darest thou, even in thy speech, to allude to the Khanum, and what mean these questions? Go! stay not here, or it may be that some of our folks may lay a stick over thee; and haply myself, if thou stayest much longer. Go, I tell thee; or thou mayst chance to eat dirt.’
Madar saw plainly enough there was little to be gained by conversation with Daood, so he left him; and after a while tried a groom who was busy with one of the Khan’s horses.
With him he was more successful, and soon he learned the history of the young man and the events which had occurred during their march from Hyderabad. Stored with these, he was preparing to depart, when he was roughly accosted by Kasim and Dilawur Ali, who had observed him in conversation with the groom; for Dilawur Ali well knew the character of the man to be of the worst kind, and that the inquiries he was making were to gratify the curiosity of his master, or perhaps to serve worse purposes.
Dilawur Ali